“Do you suggest then that we move on at night while Aurich sleeps?” asked Luytens.
“No. That is not possible. The night must be spent on the canal at the lock.” The Colonel smiled apologetically at Alec. “Even if it were possible to spend it at one of Aurich’s inns, I would counsel against it. Your trekschuit, Herr Baron, will be more comfortable, warm, and of a higher standard than any inn.”
“I do not doubt that, Colonel. Do you know which town Prince Viktor is using as his headquarters?”
“Friedeburg Palace. It was from its steps, and before a cheering crowd, that His Highness declared he, and not Prince Ernst, was the fourteenth Margrave of our country.”
“Friedeburg? I know it well,” Alec stated, ignoring for the moment the Colonel’s passing reference to Prince Viktor as ‘His Highness’, the first and only time he had done so. But he was unaware he had punctuated his statement with a tired sigh, as his mind’s eye flooded with memories long since suppressed.
If there were any happy memories from his time in Midanich, they were to be found at Friedeburg, the Margrave’s summer palace, and the cultural and artistic heart of the principality. Its ornate audience chambers and salons teemed with scholars, artisans, courtiers, artists, and musicians, all vying for patronage. And of course, diplomats from foreign courts roamed the corridors, paying court to the Margrave and his family, and also spending inordinate hours gaining the trust and ears of government flunkeys who ran the state bureaucracy with precision, if not panache.
The collection of buildings was of pink and cream sandstone and whitewashed brick, with copper roofing, fanciful turrets, and gilded molding reminiscent of Versailles. It was at Friedeburg Margrave Leopold had resided with his second wife, Helena, the Countess Rosine, and where she had given birth to their son Prince Viktor, raised at the palace, far from Herzfeld Castle, the official state residence of the Margrave. So it was no surprise to Alec why the young prince had chosen Friedeburg to make his declaration, and as his headquarters for his war against his half-brother.
It was in the gardens of Friedeburg, with its numerous ponds sprouting fountains, and around every corner a secluded grotto, that Alec chose to spend most of his time one particular summer, and at the expense of his duties as a junior secretary for the British embassy. At the time such was his youthful over-confidence in his abilities that he was able to convince himself that time spent fornicating in grottoes with a foreign princess was, in a way, taking diplomacy to its natural conclusion of satisfying both parties to the agreement. What he had failed to understand because he’d been an arrogant idiot was that even before the illicit affair had begun, it was doomed to failure—uncovered and condemned, like all furtive agreements between foreign powers—because of its underhanded and thoroughly immoral nature.
How had he dared to presume he could get away with conducting an illicit affair under the nose of Margrave Leopold? To his shame he knew the answer: If he’d been thinking with his brain and not with what was in his breeches he would not have embarked on the torrid liaison in the first place. He managed to endanger not only his own life, but the lives of others. That affair and its consequences were why he now found himself back in a country to which he vowed never to return, and why Cosmo’s and Emily’s lives were in danger.
“Herr Baron,” Colonel Müller said, looking his way and clearing his throat to bring Alec out of his self-castigating reverie. “While Prince Viktor and most of his force are presumed to be spending the winter at Friedeburg, it would be remiss of me not to mention that there remain fierce pockets of resistance in the north amongst the villagers. They do not care if it is winter or not, nor do they follow the rules of engagement.”
Alec forced his thoughts back to the present and tried to sound disinterested. He hoped, too, that by having his mug refilled with tea it would help to deflect his curiosity as to how Prince Viktor and his supporters were faring in the civil war. And in doing so, perhaps he could trip up Colonel Müller, or Jacob Luytens, into revealing where their real loyalties lay—with the newly-declared Margrave Ernst, or did they secretly support the rebel prince? As for his own hopes, they were invested in Prince Viktor. If Midanich was to prosper into the next century, then its only hope was with Ernst’s half-brother. The country needed Viktor. The Margravate would not survive beyond Ernst without him. Alec knew better than any man living that Ernst and Joanna would ruin all that their father Leopold had managed to achieve for this small country which bordered Hanover. Because, when all was said and done, Ernst and his sister were little better than scheming lunatics.
“It must be a constant annoyance to the professional soldier to have to deal with ignorant peasants who do not understand such rules of engagement,” Alec remarked, hoping to provoke either man into an unguarded response. “Such unthinking zeal sees them aid the rebel’s cause by mounting raids and skirmishes. Yet by their very amateur nature, they are bound to fail from the outset.”
“Ha! Fail?” It was Jacob Luytens. “If they do fail, it won’t be through lack of trying! Most of the ignorant yokels who eke out an existence as subsistence sheep farmers at best are betting their best new season’s lambs on Viktor overcoming all opposition. Optimistic rot! Everyone knows, whoever controls this port—the merchant jewel in the Midanich crown—controls the country. And with loyal commanders such as Colonel Müller and his grenadiers, we’ll see this winter through, and the rebellion will be quashed come spring. Isn’t that so, Colonel?”
“That is the wished-for outcome, Herr Luytens. But with most of the Margrave’s soldiers wintering at Castle Herzfeld or at this port, the waterways and surrounding countryside are not safe, Herr Baron.”
“Then the soldiers you have assigned to the journey will be most welcome, and necessary,” Alec replied, noting how deftly the Colonel turned the subject back to Alec’s trek across country, and without adding fuel to Jacob Luytens tirade about the rebels and their leader.
“The journey from here to Aurich…?” Alec enquired, sipping at his tea, and returning his attention to the map. “How long is that expected to take?”
“A day—”
“A day?” Alec was incredulous. “To travel fourteen miles by barge will take an entire day?”
“Yes, Herr Baron. You must remember there are four barges, with heavy cargo. And they all must remain together as one unit, or my men cannot possibly hope to defend them. But the journey by sledge from Aurich to Wittmund should progress much faster,” Colonel Müller continued, drawing an imaginary line on the map. “Here the country is extremely flat, and thus should be easy to traverse, but it is also a great swamp land and pitted with treacherous waterholes.”
He glanced up at Jacob Luytens and tried to keep the disapproval from his tone. “Digging out the peat has only made this situation worse. Removal of the sods has caused great bodies of water to rise up, making the land useless. I know this because I was once an engineer, and saw it firsthand in Holland. The Dutch have scoured their landscape of all the peat and created useless lakes where there was once good farming land. And now that country requires the peat from our land. It is ironic, is it not? Besides,” he added with a shrug, “here it is so flat that any taper lit at night is seen for miles, and your enemy would see you coming and be prepared many hours before you arrived.”
Jacob Luytens opened his mouth to make comment about peat production, thought better of it, mainly because the Colonel was right, so added with a grin, “We have a saying about the land being so flat you can already see on Wednesday who will come to visit next Sunday.”
Colonel Müller nodded, not seeing the humor. “Regretfully, that is very true, Herr Luytens.”
“And the time needed to reach Wittmund by sledge?” asked Alec, sitting back and finally removing his eyeglasses.
“Half a day, Herr Baron,” the Colonel apologized. “That is, if the weather holds, and we do not encounter any—
resistance
. The greatest pockets of rebellion in the north are to be found between Aurich and Wittmund. The road is not safe and has rarely been travelled since the outbreak of the war. Thus this journey will allow for the gathering of much needed intelligence for the Margrave’s generals.”
“You say ‘we’, Colonel. Are you volunteering to lead this little expedition, and gather the needed information?”
The Colonel nodded. “I am not so much volunteering as assigning myself to your welfare, Herr Baron. And yes, it will allow me the opportunity to present a report in person to the Margrave.” He addressed Jacob Luytens. “I will be leaving Emden’s defense in the capable hands of Captain Rall during my absence. And this arrangement was made known to the town’s councillors this afternoon.”
“Then I welcome your presence, Colonel,” said Alec. “And after we reach Wittmund, how do we proceed to Herzfeld?”
“All going well, and we reach Wittmund without incident, then the rest of the journey will also be by sledge. It is by far the fastest method of travel.”
“Half a day’s travel?”
“Yes, Herr Baron.”
Alec suppressed an impatient sigh. Two days of travel for what would normally take a day at most, had it been summer not winter, and had the country not been at war with itself. Two days to keep the members of his travelling party safe, and before he could confront Ernst to bargain for Cosmo’s and Emily’s release. Bargain? He laughed at himself. He wished it were that simple.
“Time I retired for the evenin’,” Plantagenet Halsey announced, slowly straightening his arthritic knees, a hand to his nephew’s shoulder. “Comin’, Parsons? I don’t understand a bloody word they’re sayin’, so you mustn’t either!”
When Sir Gilbert nodded and started stuffing his papers into his satchel, the old man turned to Alec, who had risen also, and squeezed his arm, saying in an undervoice, “You need to get some sleep if you’re off in the morning, m’boy. But before you do that, there’s someone who wishes speech with you…” He gave a jerk of his head at the doorway, and when Alec’s gaze darted that way and his brow furrowed seeing Selina, the old man added with whispered annoyance, “I don’t doubt that baronial ring has some magical power over this lot, what with them hangin’ on your every word, and ’em all bowin’ and scrapin’ before you as if you’re the Sun King come amongst them. So it’s just as well you have me—and her—to keep your boots on the ground and your fine nose out of the air! I’m tired. You’re tired. But we’re both not so tired that I can’t give you advice, and you’ll take it. Now, for God’s sake, go and make your peace with her! And don’t expect any help from that damned ring!”
A
LEC
MANAGED
TO
take a stride toward Selina when the skirt of his woolen frock coat was rudely tugged by Sir Gilbert, who waylaid him with the demand that he, as His Majesty’s representative and head of the legation, was entitled to a complete précis of the conversation with these
foreign types
.
“I’m not your lackey this time, Parsons!” Alec hissed through gritted teeth and pulled his frock coat free.
But he instantly regretted his outburst. He was over-tired, and he’d spent too many hours playing at Herr Baron he was forgetting it was not who he really was, or wanted to be. Perhaps his uncle was right—the Herzfeld baronial ring possessed some sort of magical power over him and the inhabitants of Midanich. The ring had helped him to escape Midanich ten years ago, and it was helping him now to get to Cosmo and Emily. But whatever its supernatural powers, real or imagined, he couldn’t wait to be well rid of it—and this time forever. But for now he had to keep up the pretense; too many lives now depended upon it.
So when Colonel Müller came to life, taking an angry stride forward, affronted that the fat little Englishman had dared to lay a hand on a member of the House of Herzfeld, Alec stopped him with a word. He made Sir Gilbert a short bow of apology and mustered all his patience to say diplomatically,
“I will be only too happy to give you this précis tomorrow, when the journey by barge will give us all the time in the world. But for now you must excuse me.” He had a sudden idea, gaze flickering to the satchel Sir Gilbert held possessively to his barrel chest, and extended his hand, saying with a considered frown, “And to facilitate our discussions, it would be beneficial if I was fully acquainted with His Majesty’s business. If you wouldn’t mind handing over the diplomatic pouch, Sir Gilbert.”
The pouch was held more tightly to the diplomat’s chest. “I would mind, sir! I mind very much indeed. There are documents—sensitive letters, memoranda—”
“All the more reason for me, as your subordinate, to have access to them, so that I am fully cognizant of His Majesty’s wishes. And as you are retiring for the evening, you can hardly object…?”
He let the sentence hang and kept his hand extended, but Sir Gilbert would not be swayed until Colonel Müller took a step closer at Alec’s back, and Plantagenet Halsey hissed at his ear,
“Don’t be a bigger fool than you already are, Parsons! That soldier at my nephew’s shoulder could not care less about you. He has no understandin’ of your position, or of the English tongue, but I’ll tell you one thing he does understand, and that’s fealty. He’d have no hesitation in skewerin’ you for not doin’ as you’re ordered.”
“But I am His Majesty’s representative! I have rights and obligations. I—”
“Not here you don’t! No one cares a fig for you or, for that matter, His Majesty,” the old man said with a huff, a roll of his eyes at his nephew, and patted Sir Gilbert’s shoulder when the round little man reluctantly handed over the satchel. “There, now, that wasn’t too painful, was it?”
“I must tell you, sir, I truly do not understand what is happening in this place,” Sir Gilbert was heard to complain to the old man, who was shepherding him from the room with a hand lightly to the small of his back.
“Ha! You and me both, Parsons! You and me both.”
I
N
THE
INTERVENING
few minutes since Selina had appeared in the doorway and Alec had taken possession of the diplomatic pouch, she had come further into the room and was now in quiet communication with Luyten’s daughter Hilda. And from her smiles and gesturing, trying to make herself understood to a girl who possibly spoke three languages, but English was not amongst them. So he resumed his seat and waited, the diplomatic pouch on his lap forgotten, grateful for the respite and content to watch Selina. He could watch her all day. He was unaware that while he watched her, he was being watched.