“I have ordered refreshments for you,” said Ragoczy. “I hope you will not refuse them.”
“No, I won’t; I am parched and famished,” said the Magistrate. “I would like to think you will not hold my duty against me.”
“Whom do you seek here?” Ragoczy asked as he went to open the door.
Hildegard brought a tray into the room and carried it to the occasional table next to Lindenblatt’s chair. “Magistrate,” he said as he set it down.
Lindenblatt nodded and said to Ragoczy. “You know, in my father’s day, no servant would address any of us directly. They spoke only when spoken to, and would not look at their betters.”
“This way is much more practical,” said Ragoczy. “The change is for the good.”
“I hope so,” said Lindenblatt, and poured himself a large glass of beer from the stoneware pitcher Hildegard had brought.
“I’ll ring for you when the Magistrate is through, thank you,” said Ragoczy, dismissing Hildegard.
“Comte,” said Hildegard, and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Ragoczy watched while Lindenblatt took a long drink of beer, then asked again, “Whom do you seek here?”
Lindenblatt set down the glass. “I regret to say that our information shows it is your second coachman.”
“You mean Marcel Lustig? He has worked for me only two months.”
“No, no, not Lustig. Ulf Hochvall.” He spoke the name as if confessing to a great wrong.
“Hochvall?” Ragoczy looked shocked. “Are you sure?”
“I wish I were not.” Lindenblatt took a second long draught of the beer and reached for a wedge of cheese.
“He has not been in my employ since the end of April.” Ragoczy paused to consider how to go on. “I have helped him set up in a drayage business in Sacre-Sang; Kleinerhoff aided me in making the arrangements; being the head-man of Sacre-Sang, he was in a position to hurry things along.” He gave a single, ironic laugh. “This is not what Hochvall wanted, but he was resigned to it: since his leg was broken, Hochvall has not been able to handle a coach-and-four. Both of us hoped his leg would mend completely, but since it did not, I have sought to provide him a living of some sort. He was disappointed not to be able to continue as a coachman.”
“If that is the case, he has repaid your generosity most shabbily,” said Lindenblatt, swallowing his cheese with the help of a sip of beer. “He has been passing information to Kleinerhoff for the last three years. He has occasionally sheltered the robbers in your coach-barn. It was he who sought to turn suspicion on you.”
“That is …” He left the rest unsaid.
“The mark of an unworthy man,” said Lindenblatt. “I will have to order him charged; I had hoped to do so while I was here, but if he is in Sacre-Sang, then I must shortly go there.” He took another wedge of cheese and bit into it, chewing vigorously.
“The villagers are bound to know you are coming. The harvesters will announce you as sure as fanfares.” Ragoczy tapped the secretary-desk. “If they support Herr Kleinerhoff, then you may find it difficult to arrest anyone.”
“Just this morning most of the band of robbers was captured by the Magistrates’ guard. All of them have been offered the opportunity to receive a reduced sentence if each of them will give a sworn statement to the court in regard to all their activities. That is proceeding as we speak. I have seen what the guards seized, which includes two registers of loot and booty. I had no idea of how extensive their activities have been.”
“And you are certain that Kleinerhoff and Hochvall are implicated?” Ragoczy asked sadly.
“I have proof in three forms, including several letters from Kleinerhoff that were seized during the arrests of the robbers, describing where and when the band could strike for best results. He mentions Hochvall in a dozen notes, describing how trustworthy he is, and approving his knowledge of roads and lanes in the region. Kleinerhoff’s hand has been recognized by my clerk, who knows it very well.” He finished his glass of beer. “I am dismayed to have to inform you of all this, but better that you hear it now, from me, than from someone else with incorrect information.”
“True,” said Ragoczy. “I am grateful to you for tending to something so distasteful in such a prompt manner.” He lifted his head, hearing another coach approaching. He turned to Lindenblatt. ‘If you will excuse me?”
“Another visitor?” Lindenblatt asked nothing more as he took his hat from his knee and replaced it on his head. “I will not be long here; there is much yet to do.” He rose to his feet. “If you will do me the service of coming into Yvoire tomorrow for the first court procedure, I would very much appreciate it.”
“Yes, of course,” said Ragoczy. “At what hour?”
“At nine I will begin. If you would, bring with you all correspondence you have had with Herr Kleinerhoff, and any records you have of your dealings with Hochvall. If you arrive half-an-hour early, I will brief you on what is to come. Magistrate Fulminus will be handling the actual charging of the outlaws, but I am still primary administrator of the case.” He looked back at the tray. “I wish I had had more time to enjoy your hospitality. But there is much to do.”
Ragoczy held the door for him. “I will be in Yvoire at eight tomorrow morning, and will be at your disposal.”
“Merci, Comte,” said Lindenblatt and sighed. “Now that we are Swiss France again, we must speak in French. When we become Swiss again, we will probably revert to German, or possibly Italian.”
Ragoczy expressed no opinion, but nodded seriously and indicated the front door where Balduin was waiting. “Until tomorrow, Magistrate. I thank you for doing me the courtesy of making this call.”
Outside, the second coach was nearing the turn into the paved courtyard; grooms were coming from the stable to take it in hand.
“Preferable to a summons, isn’t it?” Lindenblatt said, then started down the broad, shallow steps toward his coach.
“Balduin, if you will inform Madame von Scharffensee that—” Ragoczy began, only to hear footsteps behind him.
“Is this Hedda?” Hero breathed from just behind his shoulder. “Is that her coach?”
“I assume so; Gutesohnes is driving,” said Ragoczy, stepping aside so that Hero could see the four Kladrubers come to a halt behind the Magistrates’ coach.
“Oh. Oh, dear,” said Hero as a sudden stab of panic went through her. “I hope I have done the right thing, that she and I will—What if this doesn’t work out?”
“That is the gamble we all take whenever we extend ourselves,” said Ragoczy with such kindness that Hero gasped. “What matters is that you are willing to try.”
“You’re right: I mustn’t lose sight of that,” she decided aloud. “Shall I go out to her?”
“You may want to wait until she is out of the coach, so you may take your cue from her.” As Magistrate Lindenblatt’s coach pulled forward to turn around, the second coach came up to the edge of the steps.
“We traveled quickly,” Gutesohnes called from the driving-box. “The horses have earned their oats today. They kept up a steady trot for three leagues.” He set the brake and prepared to get down.
Balduin stepped forward, opened the door and let down the steps, then moved aside to allow the passengers to get out while Gabriel, the new footman, got off the rear of the coach and unbuckled the boot-cover.
First out was Oberin Josepha; the Mother Superior was impressive in her dark-gray-and-white habit, although her starched headdress was a bit wilted. She bowed rather than curtsied. “Comte Franciscus, it is good to see you again,” she said in German.
“And you, Oberin.” He bowed slightly to her. “I trust you had a good journey?”
“Oh, yes,” said Oberin Josepha. “Your coach is quite luxurious.” She swung around, her habit shielding the descent of the second passenger. “Come along, child. We have reached the home of the Comte. You remember him, and Madame von Scharffensee.”
A small figure in a
dull-pink frock emerged from the coach, climbing down the steps backward, and taking refuge in the ample folds of the Oberin’s habit, large, chary blue eyes peering around the nun.
“Oh, welcome, welcome, Hedda,” said Hero. “Please come in. Both of you.”
“She is a little shy,” said Oberin Josepha. “Come, child. Make your curtsy. The lady is going to take care of you from now on. Show her how much you appreciate her care.” She covered her annoyance with a suggestion of amusement. “This isn’t a game, Hedda.”
Hedda hung back.
“Until tomorrow,” called out Magistrate Lindenblatt as his coach started down the drive, picking up speed.
Ragoczy held up his hand in farewell, thinking that he should probably decide which of his records to take with him in the morning. He held out his hand to Hero. “Let the nun bring her to you. It will be less upsetting that way.”
“I want to hug her, but I suppose she will need time for that.” Hero sighed once. “I don’t care how long it takes: I want her to be glad to be with me.”
“That is an impulse I understand well,” he said and fell in beside her, offering the steadiness of his arm as she came down the steps.
“Hedda,” said Hero. “I am here to welcome you.”
The child took firm hold of the Oberin’s skirts.
Gutesohnes alighted at last and slapped his duster, laughing at the clouds that arose from the canvas. “Take the team to the stable and walk them for twenty minutes, then turn them out in the big paddock,” he ordered the grooms. “I will come to see to their grooming in an hour.”
“When you have finished with the horses,” Ragoczy said, raising his voice to be heard, “then come to my study. You and I have matters to discuss.”
Gutesohnes ducked his head to show compliance. “After dinner, if you will permit.”
“Certainly,” said Ragoczy, glad of the reprieve, however brief. Before nightfall, he would have to send word to the stable to have a horse saddled for him at six in the morning., but that could wait; now he had a much more pleasant task—to walk out toward the carriage with Hero to greet the diffident child in the drab frock and simple straw bonnet, who stood at the side of the travel-rumpled Mother Superior, and do all that he could to make both of them feel welcome at Château Ragoczy.
Text of a letter from Madelaine de Montalia in Athens to Saint-Germain Ragoczy, Comte Franciscus at Château Ragoczy, near Lake Geneva, Yvoire, Swiss France; carried by commercial messenger and delivered thirty-two days after it was written.
To Saint-Germain Ragoczy, my favorite Comte, the greetings of your Madelaine on this, the 19thday of November, 1818,
My dearest Comte,
I discover I must thank you yet again. I have today received confirmation that I will be able to sail on the Evening Star from Athens to Alexandria as soon as the winter storms have passed. I have sent word ahead to the Imperial Hotel, reserving the suites you mentioned, and providing the copy of your assurances for the manager. I will carry your authorization to draw on your accounts there, although I hope I will not need to encroach on your generosity. As deeply as I long to travel upriver on the Nile, I will be content to remain in Alexandria until appropriate arrangements may be made. Simply being in Alexandria will bring me many steps closer to the Egyptian monuments I seek. I know I would not be going there had you not intervened.
For that reason, I ask you to permit me to find an expedition bound up the Nile on my own. If I linger in Alexandria for too many years, I may change my mind and appeal to you to aid me in my search, but for the time being, I think it behooves me to do all that I may to find an expedition planning to do the sort of work I am interested in undertaking. I am learning to be patient, so I do not insist on an immediate opportunity, but I would rather set out sooner than later. I have money enough to purchase my passage and then some, which should suffice to persuade any antiquarian of my usefulness.
Here in Athens there is much excitement over the success of the Serbian Obrenovics leading the recent uprising against the Ottoman Turks, as well as his supplanting of the Karageorgevics. While many applaud Milos Obrenovic’s audacity, others are outraged at his murder of Kara George. The feud developing between the families promises to spread out through the Balkans, and may lessen what remains of the Turkish hold on the region. Everyone in Athens has an opinion on the matter and will discuss it at the slightest opportunity. There are many here in Athens who believe the Ottoman Empire must collapse, and that the sooner that happens, the better it will be for everyone, including the Turks. While I do not agree completely, I am fairly certain that the Ottoman Empire cannot continue on as it has been for much longer. If the Serbs can separate themselves and their territory from the Ottomans, so can many of their client countries, including Greece.
No, I have no wish to become part of any insurgency; escaping the Terror was enough to convince me that revolutions are as likely to destroy the supporters as the opposition. I would much prefer to be allowed to do my work in peace. Yet I listen and I know what I am seeing: this reminds me of Paris before the Bastille was stormed and those six unfortunates were rescued. I can feel it in the air, which is one of the reasons I am glad to be leaving this place in three months or so. I will be traveling with Missus Neva Colchester, who is a very respectable widow of thirty-eight summers, going to Egypt to be a governess to the children of Sir Beresford Rollo, the diplomat. If my reputation is to be protected, I am sure she is more capable of preserving it than almost anyone I have met. I understand her husband was an officer in the British Army, killed in the Peninuslar Campaigns against Napoleon. She has said he left her with a small legacy and a house north of London which she cannot afford to occupy alone, and no one in her family who wishes to share it with her. So rather than sink into genteel poverty, she has decided to put her education to good use. Her work in Egypt is supposed to last for five years with the possibility of extension if she proves satisfactory.
I tell you this so you will not think I have lost all regard for the good opinion of others. I have not and I will not flout customs out of vexation or botheration. But I find I am chafing at the limitations that are so much imposed in this part of the world. I have always assumed I could find a way to accommodate expectations, but in this part of the world, I will not go about swathed in a kind of tent, looking out at the world through a small screen in front of my eyes. As shocking as many of the Greeks and Turks think it, I will continue as I have done from my first journey to Asia Minor: I will dress and conduct myself as a European scholar. And I will make a point of going to church, to show I respect religion. It is fortunate that the tales of vampires being unable to tolerate religious places is untrue, or I would find my sojourn here much more difficult.
Saint-Germain, I do miss you. I miss you as I miss my heartbeat or the hunger for food. Every day I think of you, and I wish we could spend more time together. I comprehend your reservations about such an attempt, and in the rational part of my mind, I share those reservations. But when it is late and the moon is low in the western sky, I cannot help but regret that it must be so. For no matter whom I choose to love, nothing will ever supplant my love for you: I will always be reminded of you, of your gentleness as passionate as any work of van Beethoven or von Weber. All that I am I am because of you. Nothing will ever change that, nor would I want it changed. From now until the True Death, you will be first in my heart, as dear to me as the life you have given me, and my soul.
Eternally,
Madelaine
EPILOGUE
Text of a letter from Hero Iocasta Ariadne Corvosaggio von Scharffensee at Obenzemmer to Saint-Germain Ragoczy, Comte Franciscus in Iraklion on Crete; carried by commercial courier and delivered forty-nine days after it was written.
To the most excellent Comte Franciscus, Hero von Scharffensee sends her fondest greetings on this, the 7thday of May, 1823,
My dear Ragoczy,
Your attorney and factor, Reinhart Kreuzbach in Speicher, informs me that
you are still traveling, so I have asked him to arrange for a courier to bring this to you wherever you may be. I would just as soon continue to keep Gutesohnes here, so Kreuzbach will engage a commercial courier to bring this to you.
It hardly seems credible that two years have passed since I last saw you, but so it is, and I am sorry that more was not possible. I am so grateful to you for bringing the sad news about my father to me directly rather than entrusting it to Gutesohnes or some other hired servant. I have finally found an official to help me to arrange a Christian—albeit Orthodox—burial for him and his companions, which his executor is unwilling or unable to do. I thank you for the introduction to your Turkish factor, who has proven most reliable in these negotiations, and willing to do all that the Ottomans require to bring this sad episode to a conclusion. I suspect that this smoothing of obstacles is your doing, too, and I add that to my reasons for gratitude.
I am troubled by the news in Europe. Just when I see a glimmer of hope, there is an uprising, or a plot, or an assassination. The last three years have been tumultuous ones, what with a new King of England, a new heir in France, a revolution in Spain, an attempted revolt in Naples, a war of Independence in Greece, Bolivar and de San Martin victorious in South America, Mexico casting off the Spanish yoke, West Africa and Haiti up in arms, Brazil emancipating itself from Portugal. The recitation alone is exhausting; the actuality is undoubtedly dangerous. Even the mad rush to Egypt, thanks to Champollion’s work on the Rosetta Stone, is tiring to contemplate.
On a lighter note, I have hired a second tutor for Hedda, who is now fourteen, and beginning to show promise. She has an ear for languages and so I have expanded her instruction to include Dutch, Czech, Greek, and Spanish in addition to the French, German, Italian, and English she already knows. I would like to enroll her in some advanced school in two or three years. I know the Università of Padova has graduated women from time to time, and I seek your advice if this might be worth pursuing for Hedda. She is reluctant to leave Obenzemmer, and has said she would like to remain here doing her own studies, but I hope against hope that perhaps she will decide to broaden her horizons and seek a wider world for herself, for as awkward as life may be for educated women, it is preferable, I think, to do as much as one can to improve the state of other women than to accept the strictures of society and remain dependent creatures.
Saint-Germain 21: Borne in Blood: A Novel of the Count Saint-Germain Page 37