Honour and the Sword (48 page)

He lowered his face to mine, and I could smell the wine on his breath.

He said ‘It’s your choice, Mademoiselle. Would you like to entertain a couple of gentlemen of Spain?’

I jerked back my head and spat in his face.

Stefan Ravel

We were going too fast and too loudly, the guard at the top of the stairs had plenty of time to turn and see us before we reached him.

He drew his sword, poor sod, but that’s about all he did. I suppose what he saw was one of their own officers (which was André) being pursued by a great disreputable brute (which was me) so when the kid reached him he only stepped politely aside to deal with me, and André thrust him in the guts before I even got there. He was still alive, mind, I had to shut his mouth and wrestle him down, though André’s knife was still in him, buried so deep I could hardly see the handle. I was still at it when we heard a woman’s cry across the landing, abruptly cut off as if someone had slammed a door.

André was scrambling up, soft shoes slithering on the boards. I grabbed his arm and hissed ‘Wait!’ but he tore himself away and was off and running across the Gallery, drawing his sword as he went. I bundled the corpse behind a filthy velvet curtain so I could go after him, but there were footsteps on the stairs, another of the bastards on his way up. A guard missing at the bottom mightn’t have bothered him, but I’d have to chop him before he found one missing at the top as well. The kid was on his own.

Anne du Pré

I cried out for Florian, which was foolish because he was quite unable to help, but Luiz was like a madman, he smacked his hand over my mouth so tight I couldn’t even bite, his palm was squashing my lips and his fingers locked round my chin. I could hear Florian calling ‘Anne,
Anne!
’, his voice muffled through the bedroom door.

Luiz was tearing at my chemise. The Slug turned to close the door, but it opened hard against him, and a young officer I’d never seen before came bursting into the room. The Slug recoiled backwards, then slumped and seemed to fold on to the floor.

Luiz half released me, and said ‘What the hell?’

I thought the Slug had been knocked down by the door, but then the new officer stepped over him, and in his hand he carried a bloodied sword.

Luiz reacted quicker than I. He dragged me between his body and the officer’s blade, and spoke furiously in Spanish, his voice close to panic. The new officer paid no attention, he looked quite pale with fury as he advanced, and then a startled look leapt into his eyes and he stopped abruptly, staring at Luiz’s face.

Luiz’s voice trailed away, and his fingers dug suddenly into my arms. He muttered only one word, but it sounded like ‘
¡Diablo!
’

The officer hurled himself forward, sword thrusting over my shoulder full at Luiz’s face. Luiz stumbled back against the
chaise-longue,
pulling me against him with one hand while the other groped for his sword. I tried to twist round and away, but Luiz stuck out his leg as we turned, tripping the officer so he fell backwards over the Slug. Brave Pablo, who had stayed quietly hidden behind the door, at once came rushing out with his own sword drawn, and charged straight at the officer while he was still on his knees. Luiz started forward with a grunt of triumph, but I seized his arm and pulled him back, just as Pablo thrust violently downwards. The officer flung himself hard to one side, and Pablo’s sword plunged right into the Slug behind him, hitting the floor with a
thunk
on the other side.

The officer scrambled to his feet, but Luiz was on him at once, shoving me away with such force I crashed into the dressing table and fell down hard by the Slug. Something struck my head and glanced off, and it was my silk box, jarred from the table by the impact, scattering its contents and rolling away under the green chair.

The officer and Luiz were wrestling each other, too close to use their swords, and I could hear the panting of their breathing as they fought. The officer was saying words too, he was almost sobbing them, I heard him say ‘Bastard’ over and over again. Pablo would have intervened, but Luiz’s back was towards him, and there was no opening for his sword. Then the officer managed to free his elbow, wrenched back his arm, and smashed the guard of his sword into Luiz’s jaw with such force he broke his teeth. I heard them crack.

Luiz fell on his knees, making a bubbling, moaning sound, and I turned away, dazed and sick, to find myself looking directly into the face of the Slug. There was a skein of bright-blue silk hanging absurdly in his hair. He was making a curious grunting noise, and there was thick, dark blood oozing out of his mouth. Then his face seemed to freeze, and I think he died there and then. There was tinkly music coming up through the floor beneath my head, and I was looking in a dead man’s eyes.

I heard the ring of swords above me as Pablo and the new officer locked blades in earnest, fencing fast and savagely. I was afraid for my officer, because Pablo was the best swordsman in the Château and the newcomer looked really very young. Pablo’s face was stretched wide in a grin of anticipation.

I struggled to pull the Slug’s sword out of his belt, but it was cumbersome, and my hands were shaking for fear I would be too late. I had it at last and turned back to the fight, just in time to see Pablo dart his rapier straight at the officer’s chest. The officer swivelled sideways, then swept Pablo’s sword aside with his own, and thrust the blade hard into Pablo’s body. Pablo made a terrible noise like a kind of whoop, his eyes bulged, then his hands began twitching and groping at his belly. The officer tried to withdraw his sword, but Pablo’s hands clutched desperately at the blade, trying to keep it in, trying to hold his insides together.

Luiz was on his feet again, blood over his face but his sword in his hand. He was coming at my officer from behind, but the officer did not seem to hear, he was struggling with Pablo to retrieve his sword.

I cried ‘Look out!’ as Luiz lunged forward, and my officer twisted to one side, but his blade was still stuck in Pablo and he was helpless. I thrust the Slug’s sword up at Luiz with all my strength, but I was on the floor, and it only stabbed in the lowest part of his body, just between his legs. Luiz pulled away, making a dreadful noise like a cow in pain, but my officer wrenched his own sword free and turned on him, slashing the blade across his face like a whip, once, twice, before pulling back and thrusting him full in the throat.

Luiz was falling, and there was blood running down the Slug’s sword on to my hand. I turned away in panic, and jumped at the sight of a huge man standing in the doorway. He wore a military buff jacket, but his brown beard was ragged, his whole appearance unkempt, and in his hand he carried a bloodied knife. I realized with an almost overwhelming sense of relief he must be one of André’s men, and our rescuers come at last. Everything was suddenly very quiet, and I became aware of Florian beating his palms more and more weakly against his bedroom door, and the sound of his muffled sobs.

The big man stepped forward, and I was afraid for my gallant young officer, who was staring down at Luiz’s body and seemed quite unaware of anything else. I said ‘Wait!’ as fiercely as I could, and they both turned to me on the instant. I was suddenly acutely aware of the appearance I presented, crouched on the floor with my chemise torn open and the Slug’s bloody sword in my hand.

Then the big man spoke. He said ‘For Christ’s sake, André, get it off her before she sticks it in anyone else.’

It was only then I realized who he was.

Twenty

Stefan Ravel

Right in the balls, and no mistake. You’ve got to hand it to that girl, she knew how to hurt a man, and wasn’t scared to do it either. It made my eyes water just to watch.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’ve a lot of time for your Mlle Anne, but she was a strange sight all the same, first time I clapped eyes on her. There was that hair, of course, you know all about that, but the first thing that struck me was how pale she was. I’d never seen a living person that white. They’d been in that room three years without seeing the sun, and she certainly looked it. Her face was thin too, which gives you some idea how the dons had been feeding them; there seemed to be nothing of it but these big, dark eyes. I’m not generally attracted to ladies of the nobility, M. l’Abbé, but I’ll admit I quite took to this one.

For one thing, she didn’t waste time. There was no bleating for explanations, she was on her feet in a moment and unlocking a door to release her brother. He was a thin, wretched spectacle of a youth with trembling hands and red eyes, and the only thing that made him even lift his head was when André bowed and called him ‘Seigneur’. Nobility and titles, Abbé. Most wouldn’t even need torturing, just call them rude names, and they’d break in a week. This one was broken, and in my opinion fatally. He said only ‘Thank you, Monsieur,’ in a ghostly voice, then turned towards his little sister as if waiting for her orders.

What came out of the second door was even worse. It was blond, with a shy, fluttery expression on its face that would have worked better without the acres of heaving bosom beneath it, and wore the kind of nightdress that was never intended to keep anyone warm. If it had been up to me I’d have shoved her and the lad back in their bedrooms and let the dons keep them. The only one with her mind on the job was Mlle Anne.

Anne du Pré

I feel such a fool for not recognizing him at once. I think it’s because when I’ve dreamed of this moment he used to come sweeping superbly into the room wearing a pourpoint of bright turquoise with a white sash. I don’t even know why turquoise, except I like it. Of course it was silly to think that way, because he can hardly dress like a proper gentleman in the life he is living now, it wouldn’t be practical. In fact, I’m glad he wasn’t. He looked very fine as he was.

And once the big one said his name, I knew him immediately. The hair is as black as I remember, and the face as attractive, but perhaps a little slimmer and finer and harder than it was. He is almost as tall as Florian, but then I always thought he would be by now. Of course we were only children when we met before.

I am not a child now.

He saw me tip the rose out from the vase to retrieve the bedroom key, and when we were releasing Colette he reached out and picked it up.

I said ‘My rose, Monsieur,’ and held out my hand. I knew we couldn’t bring luggage, but didn’t think he would grudge me that.

He said ‘It was always your rose from the moment I picked it.’

I was so surprised I looked up at him, and for a second our eyes met. I turned away
at once
, but my heart was hammering against my nightgown, I felt as if everyone in the room must see it.

The big one started uncoiling a rope from around his waist and left the room, saying to André ‘I’ll do the window, get them there as soon as you can.’

Colette asked if we had time to dress, because she was wearing one of Mama’s more revealing nightdresses and seemed to have lost her wrap, but André shook his head and regretted not, so I took off my shawl and draped it round her. André made a little noise of protest, took off his own cloak and wrapped it round me instead. He was very gentle, and his hands only just brushed my shoulders when he did it. He clasped the cloak round my neck so it shouldn’t get in my way, and I felt him looking down into my face. I couldn’t meet his eyes after what I’d seen there before, so I looked at his throat, his chest, his hands as they fastened the clasp. I turned as soon as I could and picked up my diary, but he took it from me, saying I would need my hands free, and put it into his breeches pocket.

He hurried us out into the Gallery, and it felt very strange just stepping out of the room, as if the barrier had only ever been inside my head. The feel of the boards under my bare feet transported me right back to that first night when they brought us into Mama’s rooms and it all began, but the floor felt rough and sticky, much of the balustrade is broken, and the portraits are all gone from the walls. I almost wish I hadn’t seen it, for now when I picture our Gallery that is how I will remember it. Yet I will also see André’s back as he walked in front of me, sword in hand, tense, strong, ready to die for us if he had to.

We walked quietly round the Gallery towards the main staircase. Colette whispered anxiously there would be a guard at the top, but André turned and gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Not now there won’t be, Mademoiselle,’ he said. ‘Stefan has come ahead of us.’ His confidence in this one man is extraordinary, but also clearly justified, for there was no one there, only the great sweep of empty marble. The sound of music and the rumble of men’s voices floated up towards us from the hall below, but André ushered us swiftly past, and I saw with relief we were not to take that way. Instead we walked along the east landing to the musician’s gallery on the south side, and there was the big man standing by the arched window, indicating a rope tied round a stanchion which was to be our way out.

There was no time to think or be afraid. The big man showed Colette how to stand so he could stoop and hoist her over his shoulder, then at once stepped on to the sill and seized the rope. My poor sister was clearly shocked at the indignity, but had no time for more than a faint squeak before the man began to descend and she disappeared from sight. André signalled Florian to follow, but my poor brother looked at the great drop of the rope and said he could not do it.

I said ‘You can, Florian. It’s the way out.’

I guided him on to the sill, André placed his hands round the rope, and together we helped him start down. But his head had hardly dropped below us before his voice came weakly up to say he could go no further. I peered down into the dark and saw his hands still clutching the rope, but his eyes were closed and he seemed unable to move. The big one was trying to climb up again for me, but could not get past.

André leant out of the window and said quietly ‘Help him, Stefan, I’ll bring Mademoiselle.’ Then he turned to me and held out his arms as the man called Stefan had done. I hesitated a little, for he was not of as substantial a build as his companion, and indeed he is older than me by only a few months.