Franz nodded reluctantly.
“The right men would feel loyalty to Katrin and be disillusioned enough with the Queen that they would fight a force sent at her command,” Menders continued very softly. “Having been removed from service, they would no longer be under oath to the Crown.”
Franz clutched his head, thumping it down on his desk.
“Gods, Menders, you’re beyond having your head taken off, you’re marinating for the roasting spit, do you know that?”
“Franz,” Menders said, in a low and terrible voice that made the stricken doctor look up in surprise. Menders rose, removed his glasses despite the daylight, and leaned across the desk, nose to nose with his friend. “I live to protect and care for Katrin. I will do anything. I will kill anyone. I will stop at nothing to protect her, not if I have to cut the throat of our drunkard Queen in front of her entire Court of toadies. Nothing will prevent me from doing what I’ve sworn to do.”
Franz closed his eyes for a moment and then shook his head.
“All right. Put your goggles back on and sit down.”
Menders did so.
“You’re really afraid of this faction, the ones plotting against the Queen?” the rattled doctor said after a while.
“To a degree,” Menders replied. “But it’s also certain there will be other plots in the future. If I recruit a Guard they could keep Katrin in sight and serve as lookouts while going about their other tasks. I desperately need help with all the physical work to be done around here and if any threats arose, we would be ready.”
Franz said nothing.
“The worst time to decide to do something is when it’s already too late,” Menders continued quietly.
Franz was silent for a few more minutes, staring at the top of the desk. Then he drew a long breath.
“I know you killed Madame Holz,” he said softly.
“I was quite sure you did,” Menders responded. “It was the only solution. I offered her several ways out. You know that.”
Rainer Franz erupted, springing to his feet. His chair crashed to the floor.
“Damn it!” he cried. “Here you are, ten years younger than I am, looking like a slightly sinister schoolboy who would think that saying ‘grundar shit’ is the last word in being naughty. I think that I know you. I see you being kind and decent. You work yourself to exhaustion for us. You’re up before all of us, you go to bed after all of us, you’re up in the night checking doors and windows and making sure the fires don’t go out. You love that little girl as purely and tenderly as I’ve ever seen a father love. Then you sit there and tell me that you’re a cold blooded killer as calmly as you would tell me that it’s starting to rain and you talk treason as if you’re discussing a dinner menu! What the hells kind of man are you?”
“I’m every man,” Menders replied, rising to his feet and sauntering across the office. “Every man has the same capabilities but most won’t admit it to themselves. Inside every man is a loving father, or a cold blooded killer – or a slavering animal. What makes the difference between the loving father and the cold blooded killer is a matter of choice. Most men choose not to be a killer. In my case, I accept all these aspects of myself and make use them as is necessary.”
Franz stared at him.
“Haven’t you ever killed a patient when they were dying horribly?” Menders asked in a very gentle voice. “When it would be a mercy to release them from pain that has become constant agony? Did you ever let a baby deformed beyond all hope die at birth rather than slap it into life?”
His voice was just seductive enough that Franz, taken off guard, nodded.
“Then aren’t you a cold blooded killer, my friend?” Menders almost whispered, keeping his tone low, the pitch that he knew could evoke a confidential response in both women and men – the sound that made people let down their guard and say what they would normally keep to themselves.
“It comes to most doctors. It’s merciful,” Franz replied, staring at Menders.
“Yes, taking a life that way can be merciful. Where is the difference between that and taking a life to protect a life?”
“Menders, I’m not saying I regret what happened to Madame Holz. Any woman who was literally aroused when contemplating tormenting a five month old baby is best removed from the face of Eirdon. I don’t look down on you and I don’t consider you despicable, but gods, you sometimes befuddle and terrify me!”
Menders sat back, breaking the intense contact he’d formed with Franz. The doctor didn’t know it, but the last several minutes had been a test - the ultimate test of Franz’s loyalty. He’d passed, handsomely.
“For that, I’m sorry,” he said in a more normal tone. He could see Franz blinking, probably wondering just what had happened between them. “It’s a very difficult thing for most people to accept. I am not a working assassin now. I even wish that mad bitch Holz had just taken my offer of a nice villa in Surelia.”
“How many kills do you have?”
“You don’t want to know,” Menders replied quietly. “Please don’t ask me that again. I’m not ashamed of it, I’m not proud of it. It is just something I did. I will kill if I have to. I’ll decide not to kill if I can.”
Suddenly Franz extended his hand across the desk. After a moment, Menders reached out and gripped it.
“All right, you mad little bastard, I’m with you. We’ll get an illegal Guard for our Princess – and when they put you on the roasting spit, I’ll be right beside you. At least we’ll be able to talk to each other as we slowly sizzle.”
“I’ll bring the onions.”
***
Morschall Komroff, Commandant
Mordanian Military Academy
Erdahn, Mordania
Dear “Father” Sir,
I am hoping that this finds you well and the Academy ticking along nicely. Things move along well enough here – it is still a great deal of work for me, as I have been continuing with the housekeeping organization as well as the estate management, but it’s a price to pay for peace that is well worth it.
Sir, I am in the process of recruiting a private Guard for the Princess. I could use your advice and assistance in contacting those men who have left Special Services for one reason or another. I am aware that Menck and Trantz are both demobilized and in desperate straits, having been given no pensions. Can you let me know who else might be interested in living here at The Shadows? They would need to be willing to take on some physical work as well as helping me with the network I am building and creating a security protocol for the Princess.
As you know, I am venturing into perilous waters, but it is necessary. There have been several plots to date and Bartan has managed to eliminate a couple of assassins before they started on their journeys to The Shadows. I fear that if I hesitate longer I will have made a very dangerous error.
If you have Ifor’s address, I would be glad to write to him directly. Also, any addresses of any of the other “boys” who are no longer in service, or who wish to leave it soon would be enormously appreciated.
With all love and respect,
“Son” Menders
(17)
Plans Move Forward
Menders was pacing the length of the Great Hall, hands on his slender hips, eyes on the floor, his usual attitude for serious thought. Katrin, approaching four years of age, played nearby with several sheets of paper and a soft pencil he had provided.
He looked toward Katrin to be sure that mischief wasn’t in the offing. She was lying on her stomach, knees bent, feet in the air, singing to herself as she drew assiduously on the paper. She would be occupied for several more turns of the Hall.
A decision must be made as to who would be the “mind” of his developing network of informants. He was considering two longtime friends, both brilliant with codes, espionage and organization.
Through his growing network of contacts, Menders received reports about the status of a number of governments, the personal lives of the Queen an
d Princess Aidelia and the doings of various factions which revolved around royal cousins who were in the Throne line.
In return he supplied information on the social atmosphere and mood in his particular part of Old Mordania, which he derived from another network - the extended families and friendship circles of the tenant farmers and landowners in his area.
It was like weaving a web. You started small, close to the center, then slowly expanded into a wider circle. What he needed was the spider that kept the web stable and growing.
The two men he was considering, Ifor Trantz and Harcort Menck, were intelligent and inventive. Each could be ruthless when necessary.
Ifor had been his history and languages tutor at the Military Academy. Five years Menders’ senior, Ifor’s mind was a beacon, brilliant when it came to codes and strategy. He’d had an estimable career in espionage as the partner of the equally brilliant assassin, Falk. Both were part of Menders’ mission in Surelia where an ambush took Falk’s life and left Ifor with a bullet lodged dangerously close to his spine. It gave him episodes of agonizing pain where he could barely care for himself.
Now Ifor, dismissed from Special Services because of his disability, was struggling somewhere, fallen out of sight of his friends, family and colleagues. He’d lost one job after another as his physical condition made it impossible for him to carry out work duties. While Menders was in Surelia, he had paid Ifor for breaking coded messages. Commandant Komroff had sent him a monthly allowance until Ifor vanished, leaving no forwarding address, unable to bear taking charity even from the man he, like Menders, called “Father”.
Harcort Menck had also been a spy and was another of Menders’ tutors from the Academy. His specialty had been mathematics and logic. His mind was the most well-ordered Menders had ever encountered. His memory for people, details, places and events was prodigious. During his career he had been most gregarious and knew more people than Menders could name. He would be invaluable in expanding Menders’ network of contacts.
Menck had also been injured in the line of duty, falling down the façade of a four story building during a mission. The accident had left him with a badly damaged spine and two shattered legs. Though he had healed well initially, he was becoming progressively paralyzed. Like Ifor, he had no pension forthcoming. Currently he was living with family members who were resentful of his presence and increasing debility.
It wasn’t a situation where Menders could write a letter and ask these men if they were interested in a position that would result in them being tortured to death if it was ever discovered that they held it. In other circumstances, he would have gone to talk to them directly, but recently he’d found he could walk up behind Franz, Lucen and Eiren without them taking notice. He must stay with Katrin at The Shadows at all times.
So the decision must be made as to which man to approach with his very unconventional offer – then he must sort out just how to make contact – particularly difficult in the case of Ifor, as no-one knew his whereabouts.
Suddenly he heard soft, rapid footsteps and Katrin was beside him, hands on her hips, walking along with him. She watched him carefully and then mimicked his stance and gait.
He looked down at her.
“Well, Snowflower, what are you doing?”
“Walking like you. What are you doing?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Walking.”
“Thinking while I walk.”
She nodded, wrinkled her brow in “thought” and continued to pace alongside him. She seemed very happy with this new activity so he continued his perambulations.
Normally he would trust a message to the mails, as he did his letters to Cahrin and Olner, but regarding this matter - no. He also couldn’t spare anyone from The Shadows to deliver his proposal to the man he chose.
Menders turned and Katrin turned with him. Her motion was so funny that he couldn’t help smiling. He bent, lifting her quickly and tossing her up in the air, which she loved. She shrieked and laughed and then threw her arms around his neck when he caught her and pulled her close.
“I’ve had enough of walking and thinking because I’m getting nowhere with it,” he said to her as she settled on his hip. He extracted two sweets from his waistcoat pocket and held them up for her to see.
“Now what colors are these?” he asked.
“Red. Green.” Katrin pointed to the correct colors.
“And which one would you like the best?” Menders smiled, amused by the avidity in her eyes. She had a terrific sweet tooth. “The red one tastes like springberries, and the green is like winterleaf.”
Katrin grabbed both sweets and crowed, “Both!”
Menders laughed – then grew silent. Both. He’d ask both men. If they both accepted, one could function as the coordinator for Menders’ network, while the other would be the senior officer of what would be Katrin’s new Guard. A simple solution for a problem of his own making!
Menders tossed the little girl again and then caught her up under one arm like a hopfootle ball, running the length of the Great Hall with her while she squealed and laughed and clapped her hands.
“You’re such a smart girl, perhaps I can send you with messages to Mister Menck and to Commandant Komroff for Mister Trantz,” he said at the end of their romp, settling her on his hip again.
“I’ll do it,” she responded helpfully.
“It’s a little far for you to go right now,” Menders smiled, walking from the Great Hall with her. “When you’re as old as Eiren is you might go that far. She’s going where Mister Menck and the Commandant live when she leaves for school in a few months.”
He slowed, his mind whirling.
Eiren – to school.
He could trust Eiren to carry out the task. She was bright and devoted to Katrin and himself. He would keep the messages very innocent in appearance, so that no danger would come to her.
“An hour of walking and I was getting nowhere and then a few moments of conversation with you and I’ve waxed brilliant, my Little Princess,” he grinned at Katrin. “Shall we go have a talk with Eiren about being my messenger girl?”
***
Eiren looked positively wretched for a girl setting out to fulfill a dream. She’d been crying, and that made her look very red – red hair, flushed red face, red eyes. Worse still, the dress provided by her parents as a going away present was red.
“I wanted to thank you again, Mister Menders,” she quavered. “For the opportunity and all. You and the doctor.”
“If you’re going to thank me, thank me by doing well,” Menders smiled. “And try not to look too heartbroken about going.”
“I’m not! I’m heartbroken about leaving.” Tears welled up in her eyes again. She had never been away from her family for so much as a day before.
“I know it, child, I’m not scolding you,” Menders said gently. “It’s hard for you, but if you look on this as something exciting and interesting, you’ll be surprised how fast you stop being homesick.”
“Did you go away from home to school, Mister Menders?” she asked, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand.
Keeping his tone light, he answered, “I did, and when I was much younger than you. I was only eleven. It was a bit frightening at first, but before long it was very comfortable.” And a hells of a sight better than home, he added in the sanctuary of his mind.
“Eleven! That’s very young. Our Ertoldt is only eleven and I can’t imagine him going far away to school!”
“It was young, but it was the custom in my family. And it worked out well, as you see.” He posed a little and she actually giggled.
Eiren was traveling with family friends who were moving Erdahn. She’d qualified to take a two year teacher’s course and had been given passes for a couple of classes already due to the high quality of her admission exam.
At sixteen she was still very much a child, with few signs of maturation yet. Teeth still too big for her face, hair in long red braids, but she h
ad a keen and active mind. She would do well.
Menders had nearly offered to pay for her to travel home for Harvest Day and Winterfest but diplomacy made him refrain. Mister Spaltz had been grateful to accept her tuition being paid but Menders knew that the farmer would feel compromised if more was offered. This meant that Eiren would be in Erdahn without returning to The Shadows for the two years of her course, as her parents would never be able to afford the fare and would never consent to her traveling alone.
“Now, can you try not to break down in front of the Princess?” Menders asked, trying to sound a little more formal. “She’s very upset as it is.”
Eiren nodded and then lunged forward abruptly and awkwardly, hugging him around the waist.
“Thank you! I know this was your idea and you made it happen,” she whispered.
Startled, Menders patted her back and then eased her away. He tugged one of her braids.
“Make me proud,” he said gently. “And write to all of us. Now, wipe your eyes and we’ll go see Katrin.”
Katrin had been given the room next to his in the long hallway on the first floor because he didn’t want her in the nursery by herself. She’d begun to have nightmares of a creature she called ‘the blue frogmouth’, an apparition which made her seek the safety of Menders’ bed. The idea of her waking alone in the nursery, far away from the other bedrooms, was far too painful.
Katrin looked up as Eiren appeared in the doorway of her room. She had been crying.
“I have to go now,” Eiren said, managing to sound cheerful. “Won’t you come and say good-bye?”
Katrin jumped off the bed and ran to her. Eiren picked her up. Katrin threw her arms around Eiren’s neck and held on like a limpet.
Weaving Man: Book One of The Prophecy Series Page 17