Circle of Shadows

by Imogen Robertson

VI.5

  THEY RETREATED TO THEIR SALON. Harriet’s colour was high, and as Crowther told Graves of what had happened in Swann’s chamber, she walked to and fro across the room, her skirts flicking and tumbling around her.

  ‘I can hardly believe it!’ Graves said. ‘Did you suspect it, Mr Crowther? That Swann was one of the group?’

  ‘I did. A man who has spent his time that near to absolute power … He would not be the first to think he could wield it better than his master.’

  Graves opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before saying, ‘You must think me hopelessly naive.’

  Crowther smiled at him. ‘It sits rather well on you, my boy.’

  Graves sighed. ‘I have been looking through our notes while Mr and Mrs Clode rest to see if I can find any trace of the name Kastner. I can find none.’

  ‘Swann confirmed that Antonia Kastner is the model for the automaton,’ Crowther said. ‘But he claims to know nothing of what happened to her after she left here.’

  Graves sat back on his chair and rubbed his eyes. ‘No mention of an “Antonia” either. Perhaps Julius knows who commissioned him for this item with the same design. I saw him this morning. He invited me to watch the festivities in the square, so if you want to find him, I would do so there.’ He pushed the papers on the table about a little hopelessly. ‘At any rate, I want to know what it was that he made that had this symbol on it.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ Harriet said suddenly. Graves looked up at her rather stunned, though Crowther’s face showed no emotion.

  ‘These Minervals! The Duke is right, they brought this on themselves. Let them suffer. They deserve these miserable deaths. To take that woman’s reputation, to forcibly separate her from her child … Let whoever is taking revenge on her behalf finish his work with that miserable Chancellor! I shall toast his success as we leave this poisonous place.’

  They were silent. Graves began to say something, but Crowther made a gesture to silence him. Crowther then turned to the window, placing his hand against the pane of glass. The courtyard outside was full of movement, servants running to and fro, carriages and horsemen clattering over the cobbles. ‘If you, Mrs Westerman, had dedicated your energies to revenge after your husband’s death, the world would be a poorer place. These are not actions you should admire or wish to emulate. And what of Clode?’ Without wishing to, Crowther found himself thinking of Manzerotti and his gibe about Crowther’s great speeches on truth or justice. ‘Come, Harriet. If these deaths prove anything, it is that revenge is death itself.’

  ‘Would it be wrong to kill Manzerotti?’

  ‘It might not be wrong, but it would do no good. Nothing you can do will bring your husband back to you.’

  Harriet sat down at the table and covered her face. Graves stood up slowly. ‘I also have some news. Mrs Padfield’s sister Beatrice is dead. Michaels found her body and is gone to give Mrs Padfield news of it. I shall return to my post guarding Swann. This killer’s work is not complete while he lives. And whatever Swann has done … no one should die like that.’

  ‘You have had the lion’s share of the watching, Graves,’ Crowther said, though he kept his eyes on Harriet’s bent head.

  ‘Daniel and Rachel are resting together. I would not wake them.’ He left quietly and for a while the only sounds in the room came from the servants passing to and fro in the courtyard outside. Crowther remained standing, watching Harriet and leaning on his cane. She made no sound, but he saw the teardrops falling on the polished wood of the table. ‘If there were any way known to man or God, Harriet, that could undo the hurt that was done to you … To bring James back …’ He thought of the Alchemist, his boast that he could bring back the dead, and stopped. He thought of the blood, the rituals, the woman talking to spirits among the servants, the seal which fixed a spirit in a vessel.

  Harriet raised her head. ‘Oh, Crowther, that’s just it. You see it, don’t you? It is not just revenge. I’m certain that poor woman is dead, and some madman is trying to bring her back.’

  Harriet was very quiet as they made their way out of the palace. She was a still point amongst the frenzy of excitement around her. It seemed the Duchess’s arrival was imminent and the city was putting on a brave display for her. The stands were filled with the nobility, all splendid in blue and gold. Along the lower ranks of the stands were a large number of ladies and gentlemen visiting from other courts and therefore not in the Duke’s own colours; they provided an ornamental border to the stands.

  The women were in coloured and embroidered silks, their hair worked high, and the faces in the stands, male and female, were all powdered and rouged after the French fashion. Harriet, glancing up, was reminded of a display of porcelain dolls in Pulborough. On a whim she had bought the least unfriendly-looking of the display for Anne. Her daughter had seemed delighted with the present, but treated the doll with a sort of superstitious awe. Her rag doll was dragged about with her wherever she went, while this porcelain monstrosity was named Margaret, at Crowther’s suggestion, and placed high over the nursery. Anne and her rag doll occasionally brought it interesting pieces of gravel and set them at its feet like nervous worshippers before an idol.

  There was a small stage at the centre of the square with a pair of high-backed, throne-like chairs on it, a cluster of less impressive seats in front of it and a small reading lectern. A number of musicians were being given some last-minute rehearsals from the court composer.

  Every other available space in the square and throughout the gardens leading up to the palace itself was filled with the citizenry of Maulberg. All were in their best and jockeying for position in a good-humoured fashion. Whatever rumours might be flying around about the sudden spate of illnesses among the members of court, the atmosphere was of expectant good cheer. There was a stir in the mass of people at the front of the palace and a group of horsemen began to clear a way down the central path. An open carriage painted in silver and red drew up in front of the central portico. The Duke emerged and stepped inside accompanied by three visiting Princes all in blue military uniforms.

  They began to make their way down through the gardens and the people started to cheer. The Duke raised his hand and waved. The trumpeters on the dais struck up a fanfare.

  ‘There he is!’ Harriet exclaimed, and for a moment Crowther thought his companion had been caught up in the excitement of the moment, but he found that rather than pointing at the Duke, she was pointing at a young man with red hair and a slightly dirty coat on the edge of the crowd, some twenty yards from them. They jostled their way over and Harriet put a hand on his sleeve.

  ‘Mrs Westerman!’ he said with a grin. ‘I’ve come to see the fun. So glad to hear Mr Clode is out of the hole. Saw Mr Graves up at the village this morning.’

  ‘Julius, have you made something recently with a design on it, a little like the Star of David, but with words, letters on it.’

  ‘You mean the Djinn bottle? That was about a year and a half ago.’

  The crowd around them roared, so Harriet had to raise her voice.

  ‘The Djinn bottle? Why do you call it that?’

  ‘Well, the design you mentioned is a bit like one of the Seals of Solomon. You know when he built the Temple in Jerusalem he was supposed to have used enslaved spirits to help him. Then he sealed them in brass vessels, and the Templars found them during the Crusades … then ran off with them to become Freemasons in Scotland. Or was that the Holy Grail?’ He was straining on his tiptoes to see over the crowd. ‘Ooh look, the Duchess’s coach is coming!’ A fresh blare of trumpets rang out. A coach built more for show than travel and all in gold was drawing up to the stage. The horses all wore golden plumes that must have made them the envy of some of the women in the stands. Around them, everyone had a handkerchief in the air and was waving it furiously.

  ‘What was it?’ Harriet said, tugging on Julius’s sleeve.

  ‘Just a large brass bowl, with a domed cover. The whole thing looked like an ostrich eg
g, with that design repeated on it round the edge. Fits together very neatly. The engraving took forever. Ahh, here she comes.’

  The door to the golden carriage had opened and the steps were let down. A thin figure in blue and gold appeared and the cheering increased in volume. ‘Oh, that’s a nice touch – look, she is bending down to kiss the ground of Maulberg, and wearing our colours.’ The crowd seemed to agree. The roar and cheers reached a feverish clamour. The Duke stepped forward and took his bride’s hand to lead her to the stage.

  ‘Who commissioned it?’ Crowther bawled in Julius’s ear.

  ‘Eh what?’

  ‘The Djinn bottle! Who commissioned it?’

  ‘No idea. It all came through one of the footmen at the palace … Wimpf. Peculiar job, but I was well paid for it.’

  The Duke led his bride to one of the thrones and took his seat beside her, still lightly holding her hand. She looked so young. The three Princes who had come with the Duke, and a number of other dignitaries who had emerged from the retinue of the golden coach also took their places on the dais, and a young man was ushered up to give a speech. A hush fell, and the man began to speak in Latin.

  ‘Top scholar at the Leuchtenstadt, that lad,’ Julius said to them, and tucked his thumbs into his waistcoat. ‘What a great honour. He’ll have a medal to show his grandchildren. After the recitation they will sign the marriage certificate then return to the palace for the gala. There is to be a public feast here too, you know. A lion’s head pouring wine. Three roast oxen.’

  Harriet was turning away when she felt a touch on her arm. ‘Michaels! I am glad to see you.’

  He nodded. ‘Happy to find you in this crowd, Mrs Westerman, Mr Crowther. I have been looking for Mrs Padfield, but she is not at home. Do you know where I might find her?’

  Julius turned away from the scene for a moment. ‘Good to see you, Michaels. She is in the stands there with all the court ladies fluttering their fans at the new Duchess. You’d do best to wait for her back at their home. They will all have to change their dresses again for the gala.’ Michaels shoved his hands into his pockets and looked grim. Harriet began to move to the edge of the crowd and Michaels and Crowther followed her.

  They walked until they could find space enough to speak. ‘What news, Michaels?’ Harriet asked quietly. ‘We heard from Graves that the girl is dead.’

  ‘Been in the ground a good long time,’ he answered. A couple of young men jogged past them towards the crowd, singing as they went. Michaels watched them pass before continuing, ‘No sign of Kupfel’s papers, or her book of odds and ends. She was buried near a waterfall between Oberbach and a nasty little place called Mittelbach.’

  ‘You are sure it is her?’ Harriet asked. The crowd behind them gave a great roar of approval; it rolled and rocked between the buildings.

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘My congratulations on finding her,’ Crowther said quietly. ‘How did she die?’

  ‘It was luck, is all. As to her death, the back of her head was smashed. Strong arm and a rock, I think.’ There was another cheer and the crowd began to applaud. The air crackled and boomed with the sound of a volley of gunfire.

  ‘The military salute,’ Harriet said, glancing over her shoulder. ‘The marriage contract is signed. Who owns land in that area, Michaels? What are the important houses? Did you hear the name of Kastner?’

  ‘No, Mrs Westerman, can’t say I did. There are plenty of healthy farms and a good number of men who’ve done well in Oberbach and have built a house – they might any of them been a temptation to young Beatrice. Mittelbach is part of the estate of Count Frenzel. You might ask him.’ The crowd was beginning to disperse. ‘I owe that woman news of her sister. I had better be waiting for her when she comes back to change her frock. Good luck to you both.’ He turned away from them and was swallowed into the crowd.

  Harriet leaned on Crowther’s arm. ‘I wish Krall were here. He could frighten an answer out of Wimpf. Do you think we might manage to get a name from him?’

  Crowther shook his head. ‘No doubt Krall is still busy protecting the Duke. We might get some intelligence from Wimpf, but Krall would do a better job of it, I agree. We have another line to follow though, Mrs Westerman, if you are not too exhausted.’

  ‘I am quite well. What do you mean?’

  ‘The school.’

  VI.6

  HERR KINKEL WAS FAR, far too busy with the arrangements in the east wing to see the signing of the marriage contract. The back quarters of the palace were a frenzy of movement. The new Duchess’s retinue had to be accommodated, their baggage stowed correctly, their servants billeted and everyone required hot water. However, he did notice Wimpf, helping the stooping figure of Chancellor Swann into a waiting carriage. The blinds were drawn down. Strange. Strange too that rather than slamming the door and letting the carriage drive off, Wimpf got up behind as if to travel with the Chancellor. Where could they be going? Still such a frenzy, he had even seen old Kupfel wandering round court yesterday. If Theo had to press his father Adam into running errands, he was pushed indeed. Herr Kinkel wondered about this for almost five seconds, the complete time available to him, then the housekeeper almost knocked him from his feet, staggering along the passage with fresh linens in her arms, after which he returned to more pressing duties.

  Rachel sighed sleepily and put out her hand. Her fingers brushed her husband’s chest and she felt her hand being taken and his kiss on her palm. As she opened her eyes, she found him watching her and smiled. She let her hand rest on his jaw for a moment.

  ‘Did you sleep?’ She moved closer to him.

  ‘I did – and better, I think, than I have for some time.’

  She laughed and tucked her head under his chin. ‘As did I.’ Perhaps for the first time, lying there, she realised what her sister had lost when James Westerman was killed. She thought of Harriet, her restlessness. It had been in her long before James had died, those first years of marriage they shared, sailing over the oceans till she had been forced to remain in Caveley, for Stephen, for her. Then to lose James, that bond between them which kept part of her soul out in the winds and weather even while she remained in Sussex. She knew she was like Harriet in many ways, but she did not share that restless nature. It was what divided them. Her arm lay over Daniel’s side, she could feel it rise and fall with his breathing. To live with him, to bear his children, to face the coming winters together in their own home and among their friends was all the adventure she wished.

  ‘Daniel …’ She tilted her head back so she could watch his face as she told him. ‘I believe I am to have a baby. Are you pleased?’

  Some time later they found Graves in the parlour and told him their news. He wrung their hands so hard Rachel had to protest.

  ‘Please, Daniel, defend me! Graves, you will tear my hand off!’

  ‘Lord, I’m so delighted!’ He almost danced away from her, then his smile faltered.

  ‘What is it, Graves?’ Daniel said, looking a little more serious, but keeping his hand on Rachel’s shoulder.

  Their friend grimaced and folded his arms across his chest. ‘Only that I wanted to tell you what has happened with Swann. Great dramas. These Minervals have been exposed by Manzerotti and some child genius.’ Rachel smiled to herself. For all his responsibilities, Graves had something of the child in him still. ‘All the victims of these gruesome murders were on the list, some inner circle of seven treating the Duke as a puppet and trying to make Maulberg a breeding ground and haven for their philosophy. The Duke is trying to handle it quietly, but I had some words with Colonel Padfield. He expects to detain a number of people during the celebrations this evening.’

  Rachel was amazed. ‘Manzerotti was working for the Duke?’

  ‘He was. All the time. Seems the Duke did not want a group of revolutionary poisoners running his state for him.’

  Daniel frowned. ‘One moment, Clode. There have been six victims. Surely the attack on Swann was something diff
erent. Rachel, should you not sit down?’

  ‘Daniel, I have only this minute got up. So these Minervals were influencing Swann? Flattering him? Using his closeness to the Duke …?’

  ‘He was a fully paid up member,’ Graves said, opening his arms wide. ‘Crowther thinks I am naive not to have suspected it, but Padfield was shocked white too. Swann is banished!’

  Daniel sat down rather quickly. ‘My God. I shall think every man I meet a revolutionary now. Where are Harriet and Mr Crowther? Are they guarding Swann?’

  ‘No, they’ve gone charging off to see if Julius can let them know who ordered those strange commissions. The automaton is certainly modelled on that poor lady, Antonia Kastner. My dear Mrs Clode, are you sure you should not sit down? You are rather pale.’

  ‘Did you say Antonia Kastner, Graves?’ she asked.

  ‘I did.’

  Clode took her hand. ‘What is it, my dear?’

  She looked at him, her eyes wide. ‘Oh Daniel! I do not think it was you that saw something you shouldn’t have done. I think it was me.’

  The Ludwigsschule was formed around a wide courtyard on which the pupils could be taught the basics of military drill. It was deserted. At the entrance provided for pedestrians under the wrought-iron gates they were met by an elderly gentleman who lifted the latch for them and asked their business.

  ‘We wish to enquire about a child who died here some six years ago,’ Harriet stated. ‘I am afraid we have not an appointment.’

  The gatekeeper scratched his neck and looked suspiciously at them. ‘Today?’ he said. ‘A child six years dead and you wish to enquire for him on the afternoon of the Duke’s wedding?’

  ‘We come directly from the Duke,’ Crowther said. The man opened the gate and shuffled aside to let them in before slamming and locking it again. ‘They are watching the opera now at court, aren’t they?’ he offered by way of conversation as they crossed the vast expanse of the drill yard at his comfortable pace.

  ‘So I understand,’ Harriet said.