‘What do you see?’ Krall asked.
‘The flowers are growing, of course!’ she said, without looking at him. ‘See, sir, they are climbing right up to the ceiling. Maman, Maman, do you see?’ Her mother covered her mouth. ‘I never saw flowers grow so fast before! How I wish they were always like this!’
Harriet noticed out of the corner of her eye that the Countess was watching now. The Duke looked greatly amused.
‘Do you see the fairies approach, Elizabeta?’ Krall said.
She turned her head this way and that, then a sudden understanding came over her features. ‘Why, they are everywhere!’
‘I think the Fairy King wishes to dance with you,’ Krall said.
Elizabeta suddenly blushed, then stood and took a number of light steps towards Graves and with a deep curtsey held out her hand.
Graves looked at his companions. Crowther gave a tiny nod of his head, and Graves took the little girl’s fingers between his own and bowed.
‘How does the Fairy King look, Elizabeta?’ Krall asked.
‘He is handsome and has a golden crown!’ Graves lifted the girl’s hand and she skipped forward, lifting and dropping her arms, then returning and taking his hand again, they moved forward together. She spun again and returned to him. Graves tried to mirror her steps, but having none of her natural grace, and not the advantage of hearing whatever orchestra was playing to the child he was stiff and unnatural.
‘I thought the King of the Fairies would dance beautifully!’ the child said and the Duke laughed. Graves frowned and the child saw it. ‘Oh, I have made him angry! His eyes are all red. Oh, they glow like the devil’s!’ Graves smiled and bowed. ‘He shall eat me!’
The Duke began to laugh, but the child looked terrified. Her mother made a whimpering noise and tried to move forward, but Krall put out his hand to stop her. Graves looked up at Harriet desperately. Harriet thought for a moment then undid the ribbon at her neck and handed it to him. From it hung a paste flower of brilliants. She had worn it at Rachel’s wedding. Graves took it and handed it at once to the little girl with a bow. She stopped crying at once and stared at it open-mouthed. ‘He has forgiven me.’ She dropped to her knees again and taking Graves’s hand, kissed his knuckles with absolute reverence.
The Duke was still shaking with amusement. The little girl dropped Graves’s hand and became quiet. Graves backed away a little.
‘Elizabeta?’
She was tracing the flowers in and above the carpet once more. The Fairy King seemed forgotten.
‘I’m dizzy,’ she said, her voice a little slurred. ‘I would like to go to sleep now.’
Krall dropped his hold on the mother’s wrist and the young woman swept forward, gathered the child up in her arms, and throwing a dark look at Krall, left the room. The Duke managed to control his laughter.
‘Well, whatever the effect of that mask, it did not mask her judgement of the dancing of milord Graves! Swanny, a purse for the mother and child, with our sincere thanks.’
‘Of course, Your Highness.’
‘I almost wish to see the fairies myself. Interesting. So Krall, is the mask a trap for Djinns? Is it engraved with the Seal of Solomon?’
‘It seems it is drugged, sire, as Mrs Westerman suggested.’
The Countess Dieth had got to her feet. ‘The child was coached! It is a lie to make you release Clode, sire!’
The Duke had hold of his spaniel’s forepaws and was making her dance back and forth on his lap. ‘Would you like to try the mask yourself, Countess? No?’ The Countess was silent. ‘I thought not. No, I do not think the child was coached. Poor Mr Clode.’ He set the dog onto the floor and its claws skittered on the parquet as it retreated beneath the day-bed. ‘Do you think someone might have wished to play a joke on Mr Clode? Then perhaps the drug sent him mad, he killed Lady Martesen and in horror at what he had done, tried to do away with himself. There. I have it.’
Krall stroked his chin. ‘It seemed to me, sire, that Clode was still in some sort of dream when I first talked to him.’
‘So? Krall, are you doing damage to my theory? I was so proud.’ He examined them all in turn. ‘We could then say the death was accidental and our English friends could go home.’
‘I mean, sire, that if he realised what he had done, then cut his wrists, that would suggest his brain had cleared. But it had not. This was a murder of Lady Martesen and an attempt to murder Mr Clode to conceal it.’
‘Oh dear, Krall. You doubt Clode’s guilt, I see.’ The Duke turned to Harriet and Crowther. ‘Hardly a day at the palace and already you have shaken Krall’s faith. What a breath of fresh air and new thinking you are!’
Countess Dieth’s voice shook slightly. ‘Ludwig, if Clode did not kill Agatha, then who did?’
The Duke did not reply, but merely looked up at Krall. The District Officer rocked on his heels. ‘I do not know who might have wanted Lady Martesen dead, sire.’
‘Krall, do you know you remind me of my uncle at times. Do you see how he did that, Countess? He asked his sovereign if he knows anything of the murder, but without
actually
asking!’
‘Very crafty, sire,’ the Countess replied. Her voice sounded hollow, defeated.
The Duke frowned. ‘I have no idea, Herr District Officer, of anyone who might have wished her harm. Lady Martesen was well liked at court.’
Krall bowed.
‘Had her position at court not altered recently, sire?’ Harriet said quietly.
The Duke’s smile became less friendly. ‘What a character you are, madam. It had. But Agatha was not a jealous woman. My betrothed had nothing to fear from her, nor had Agatha anything to fear by my marriage.’ Harriet looked at the floor.
The Duke laced his fingers together and examined his knuckles. ‘So someone has been fooling us. How embarrassing. And not very nice to welcome our bride with a murderer running about.’ The room was silent but for the panting of the little dog under the day-bed. Crowther stepped forward and bowed. ‘You may speak, Mr Crowther. Do so carefully.’
‘Perhaps, sire, it might be best to keep the effects of the mask confidential at the moment. If whoever drugged it is convinced his secret is safe, they may be careless, reveal some sign of their identity.’
‘It would be embarrassing for Maulberg too, Mr Crowther, as I am sure you realise, to release Clode the very second you arrive. Still. The little girl was very suggestible. Perhaps someone suggested the killing to Mr Clode.’ He licked his lips. ‘But even in that case the mystery remains.’ No one spoke. ‘No word of advice, Countess? Chancellor Swann? You are both normally so full of helpful suggestions.’ The Countess’s face reddened under her powder as if she had been struck, but she did not speak. ‘Very well. We have just welcomed Mrs Westerman and Mr Crowther to our court. We wish our new friends to investigate these matters. For the time being, until matters become more clear, Mr Clode will remain at Castle Grenzhow. Krall knows I think him very capable, but I am sure he would be glad of assistance in such a matter. Wouldn’t you, Krall?’
‘Very glad, sire.’
The Duke turned towards Harriet. ‘But perhaps my request alone might not be enough to hold you. I add to it that of your own King. Would you like to see the letter? The British Ambassador brought it along with him this morning. Dear Lord, that man wears ugly shoes.’
Harriet’s throat grew rather dry. ‘Sire, your request alone would be enough to hold us here.’
A corner of the Duke’s mouth lifted. ‘Clever girl. You shall have a copy of the letter in any case, to enjoy seeing your name bandied about in the correspondence of monarchs. See to it, Swanny.’ He looked carefully at his Chancellor. ‘Are you cross I hadn’t told you about my correspondence with Cousin George? Do not look so put out, my dear Swann. Am I not allowed a secret too from time to time?’
Swann bowed.
‘What next, Swann? I assume I have a mountain of papers to look through?’
‘There are a number of matters, sire.’
‘Very well. Krall, I assume from your horrible coat you do not intend to eat at our table this afternoon?’
‘I wish to continue my attempts to discover the history of this mask, sire.’
‘You do work hard! You have every assistance?’
He bowed.
The Duke looked about him. ‘Swanny, have some of the new musicians come in and play while we go through the papers, will you? Such excitement, I feel in need of a little calm.’
H
ARRIET ALL BUT FLED
the room and not until they were a hundred feet of gallery away did she speak. ‘Will you come to the Castle, Crowther?’
‘If you will excuse me, I think I should serve Clode better by consulting about the provenance of the drug on the mask.’
‘In other words you do not think you can stand another tearful reunion so soon,’ Graves said under his breath. Harriet smiled then found herself looking around guiltily. Something in the atmosphere of the palace made her fear she was in danger of being constantly overheard.
‘What did you say to Krall as we left? He looked as if you had struck him,’ Graves asked Crowther. Harriet realised he was talking in low tones as well. Only a day and the palace had them fearing their own shadows.
‘After asking him to come to our private room at his first opportunity, I said, “I believe she drowned”, of course. What else would I say?’
‘Social pleasantries have never been your strong suit, have they, Crowther?’ Harriet said with a sigh. ‘Well, that explains the poor man’s expression.’
‘At least I have not interrogated any despots about their amours today, Mrs Westerman.’
She grimaced. Their footsteps echoed up the corridor which was lined with yet more classical statuary. Muses, heroes and a smattering of Dukes observed them as they passed. The Muses looked at them slyly over their shoulders. The heroes stared boldly and the Dukes looked down their noses. ‘A fair point. Why did you not tell the Duke about the manner of Lady Martesen’s death?’
‘I feared he might fetch in another child to demonstrate,’ Crowther said simply.
Graves shook his head. ‘That man almost frightens me.’
‘He is an absolute ruler, Mr Graves. He has been obeyed his entire life. Perhaps it is not surprising to find that produces a slightly … warping effect. Give Mr Clode my best wishes.’ He nodded to them as if he intended to leave their side, but she put out her hand.
‘Crowther, Rachel has been worried about Daniel. The state of his mind. This drug, do you think the effects might be long-lasting?’
He paused for a moment, putting his weight onto his cane, his long fingers spread out over its silver head, and looked at their faces, all concern. ‘Not the drug itself, I think, given what Rachel has said. But you have been under fire in battle, Mrs Westerman.’
‘A number of times on my husband’s ships.’
‘So you have seen the effects, not on the body, but on the mind such extremes of fear and confusion can have?’
‘More often than I would like. I think I understand you, Crowther.’
‘I fear I do not,’ Graves said.
‘The effects of battle are cruel enough, Graves, but they are at least both understandable and shared. Even so, they can haunt men for years. Daniel’s visions were his alone and included the bizarre murder of a young woman, the cutting of his own wrists and being arrested.’
‘What do you advise, sir?’ Graves’s voice was low and serious.
‘That we find out the truth behind his visions. We are haunted by what we do not understand.’
‘Then we shall. Come, Mrs Westerman. Let us go and find our captured Prince.’ Graves offered her his arm, Harriet took it and they disappeared up the corridor. Crowther watched them go, then turned to search out his quarry.
He found Manzerotti at play in the rooms adjoining the ballroom which had been set aside for cards. The castrato noticed Crowther and at once handed his cards to a gentleman behind him and spoke to his companions. His soft cooing voice made each word a pearl.
‘My nemesis approaches, ladies!’ His French was as perfect as his English. The three women, middle-aged, heavily rouged and jewelled, hid their automatic smiles behind their fans. ‘Please allow the Comte de Griève to take my place among you.’
Crowther did not smile, but simply watched him get up from his chair and bow the Count into his place with the same interest with which he would watch an exotic animal. He could not help thinking of the muscles and tendons of the body when he observed Manzerotti in motion; his physical grace was astonishing. The air seemed to ripple and part for him, allowing him to move through the world without the effort other mortals needed to shift their bodies from place to place. When he approached and made his bow, and Crowther returned it, he felt his own body to be an inferior machine, unlubricated and fixed with cogs and gears more clumsily wrought.
‘Mr Crowther, have you had leisure to examine His Highness’s Cabinet of Curiosities? Of course not. Let us have a look at them together.’
Crowther followed him without a word through a set of heavy double doors into a room, octagonal in shape and lit from above by a glass roof and a series of high windows. The air tasted unused. Against each wall was a display case, panelled over with glass at its top, and set with narrow drawers below. Crowther organised his anatomical samples in something similar in his house at Hartswood, but his cabinet was a far more utilitarian object. These seven cabinets were wonders in themselves. Each was inlayed with mother of pearl into a themed profusion of life. The example to Crowther’s right was smothered in inlays of flowers and vines that tumbled over each other, the stems seeming to thrust and grow under the eye. To his left, animals real and apocryphal clambered on each other’s backs to peer in through the glass at the bones and preserved fragments of their fellows.
In the centre of the room was a large table, octagonal also, and crowded with domed glass cases for larger curiosities. Crowther noticed the skeleton of a two-headed baby. It had been provided with an ivory violin and stood on top of a small mossy rise, one foot lifted as if dancing to its own tune.
‘It was the current Duke’s uncle who created this room,’ Manzerotti said.