The Golden Portifor - 31. Chapter 31

Karl Wollherz woke and stretched, accidentally bumping with his elbow the warm shoulder of Andreas Wittig lying next to him. Or, he corrected himself, Andreas, the Freiherr Wittig von Bernenstein. Andreas stirred and murmured ‘Morning, Karlo.’ Then he yawned and sat up. The pink, dawn light was flooding into Karl’s small, bare dormer chamber in the Residenz, which both boys occupied.

Andreas looked down. ‘Shouldn’t yer be outta bed already, looking after yer two lords? No Jonas now to do that duty. And what about yer horses? Yer’s got too many jobs these days, Karlo.’

‘In a moment. Ando, y’knows yer going to have to have yer own servants now, and a house.’

‘S’pose I will. But I’m not in no hurry about it. No hardship for me to live in barracks, considering that I used to live under a wagon near the stinking Neustadt shambles till only two years ago. What I does need is a servant, though. So why not come work for me as my groom? I can pay yer a lot more than Lord Serge can.’

Karl grinned up at his friend. ‘Not sure what Master Jan and Lord Serge would say about that.’ He sobered. ‘I can’t accept the offer, Ando. Jonas’d be pissed at me to begin with. I’m there as much for him and Boro as for Lords Serge and Willi. No, that’s where I belong. Sad of course, ‘cos I’ll be seeing less and less of yer. And ... yer knows I really likes what we does when we’re in bed together. Speaking of which ...’.

Ten minutes later Andreas groaned into Karl’s ear as he climaxed inside him. He slumped on to his friend’s back. Karl offered his mouth and was kissed thoroughly. With another groan, Andreas disengaged and pulled out of Karl, finding a cloth to wipe the results off his still thick and erect penis. He got up and stretched his muscular frame, as Karl lay back and admired for a moment the other boy’s superb body, then he too employed the cloth to his leaking rear, and joined Andreas in dressing for the day. As he finished he adjusted Andreas’s lace fall and sword belt.

‘The captain’s uniform suits yer, Ando. But yer don’t have a company, so what does yer do in the Prinzengarde now?’

‘There’s to be a new ensign for the life company, so I’m to attend His Royal Highness as an aide when required. In other words, stop anyone else trying to murder him I suppose. I’m also to act as relief for Captain von Mighelstein if he’s got other duties. Not too hard a duty. But what I’m really looking forward to is helping Lord Serge and that Mehmed investigate the attempt to kill our Prince.’

***

Serge handed Gerlitz’s pistol over to Mehmed. The two men, with an attendant Andreas, were sitting around a table in the guardroom of the North Citadel. Mehmed weighed the gun and examined it.

‘A very neat little pocket pistol, designed for concealment, and light too. Even so it necessitated a special holster within Gerlitz’s sleeve, as we discovered when he was stripped and his clothing inspected. I’ve had him cuffed and chained to staples in his cell. I don’t want him killing himself before I’m finished with him. But more of that later. What have you found out about it?’

Serge smiled over at Andreas. ‘Our new young Freiherr had a good idea. The garrison here is large and includes officers from several services, and he is well-acquainted and popular with them all. Tell the pasha, Andreas.’

‘Ah well, my lords,’ the youth replied. ‘I showed the pistol around the guard rooms, and it got a lot of interest. I thought the officers who had been in Bavarian service might recognise its make, if our first suspicions are correct. But as it happens the old Englishman, Major Haynes of the Mittenheimer Musketeers, had most to say. He recognised it as from a London workshop.’ He scrutinised a scrap of paper and read out laboriously: ‘It’s by master gunsmith Herr Francis Reynardson of Whitechapel. The major said Reynardson guns used to be very fashionable about the court in the days of the Catholic King James, the one the English chased out of their country. The major went abroad after that and fought for the old king in Ireland before taking service in Spain and then here in Ruritania. He knows his guns, sirs.’

‘Is this English link important?’ Mehmed queried. ‘I have met many of these Englishmen in Constantinople, and lately looted their ships to my great profit. But they are ancient enemies of France, as I understand. They are more likely to favour the Emperor in Vienna, surely.’

‘I would think so,’ Serge agreed. ‘Though maybe adherents of King James favour France, since he is sheltered there? Anyway, the pistol doesn’t tell us much, other than that the plotter or plotters behind Gerlitz maybe had wide contacts. For it certainly was not his own possession as he has claimed. What of the unfortunate von Gerlitz, Mehmed?’

The Turk gave a satirical grin. ‘His interrogation progresses, though it will take more time than your prince will be happy with, but no matter. He has a companion chained alongside him in his cell, the one you loaned me. I commenced some light work on the Gerlitz man, and he proved as resistant as I feared. He babbled away when real pain was applied, but it proved of little use and he would not answer the hard questions. My hopes are stacked on his companion.’

Andreas stirred. ‘Who’d this be, my lords?’ he asked.

‘Your former colleague,’ Serge replied, ‘Hans Blicke.’

‘You see, my young lord Andreas, it is the loneliness that bites hard on captives,’ Mehmed explained, ‘and they will inevitably bond with neighbours in the same predicament, even though they should know better. So now a vulnerable and panicking boy is shackled alongside the Gerlitz fellow, sobbing and proclaiming his innocence of the plot, an innocence of which Gerlitz is of course well aware.’

‘I’d be suspicious, whether or no,’ Andreas declared with a frown.

Mehmed shrugged. ‘No doubt, boy. But the advantage of Hans Blicke is that he is more than willing to undergo the genuine pain and abject humiliation of torture in full sight of Gerlitz, though obviously nothing that will permanently mark him. He found it quite exciting of course, and it was all Master Blicke could do to counterfeit distress at the pain and his supposed humiliation by torture and a public rape. So in the dark of night he is held and comforted by Gerlitz, and slowly that artful boy is bringing the true story out of him. I expect results within the next day or two.’

Serge noticed Andreas give a half-smile and a shake of the head. The youth was quite imperturbable in the face of the world’s lunacies. He supposed it was the effect of Andreas’s street experience.

‘And then what?’ Serge asked.

‘Your law must take its course, I suppose,’ Mehmed shrugged. ‘I have to say, it seems uncivilised to me, but then you Christians have turned from the light of Allah, so what can one expect?’

‘Wasn’t your uncle executed by your Emperor after his failure to take Vienna?’

Mehmed sniffed. ‘The Porte disposes of such high-ranking and awkward persons without fuss; a quick tightening of the cord round the neck, a brief struggle and it is over. Otherwise for the common folk it is the salb, that is hanging, as you would say. There was space for dignity in my uncle’s last words: “Am I to die? Then be it as Allah pleases.” I myself have sent underlings to their execution, but the sword or cord at the neck is quick and merciful if properly applied. Not so what the foolish Gerlitz will experience.’

***

When Serge returned to his rooms in the Residenz, it was to find Karl Wollherz beaming as he opened the door to the suite. The cause of the boy’s pleasure was standing behind him. It was Jan Lisku, fresh from the road and still in his riding gear.

Serge embraced his old companion, with a feeling of relief. His current domestic worries were ones he could do without, and he would happily resign them to his valet and domestic steward. He stood back and said with a wide smile ‘I didn’t summon you, Sancho, so how come you’re here?’

Jan shot a sidelong glance at the groom. ‘It was Karl. His last letter said your establishment here was struggling with two boys, and now I hear it’s but one. However efficient Karl may be he can’t properly support your dignity on his own; fortunately I was already determined to come in person. There’s little to do at Engelngasse in any case, other than compile very neat accounts, which by the way, sir, I have with me for your signature as well as a saddlebag full of letters.’

‘Good. Sit yourself down. You and I have some catching up to do. Karl, go fetch Master Jan some refreshment while he gives me the news from the Sign of the Angel.’

After a long and pleasant conversation in Rothenian with his old friend and counsellor, he turned to his present concerns, ending up with the Jonas question, which was still nagging at him. ‘Did you ... er ... notice anything odd about the boy in his time in Engelngasse, Janeczu?’

‘Odd? In what way odd?’

‘I mean uncanny, difficult to account for.’

Jan frowned at his beer mug, and admitted he had. ‘There were lots of things. Unlike most of the street boys, he was perfectly fluent in Rothenian as well as German, and his vocabulary ...’

‘I noticed that,’ Serge agreed. ‘For a ten or eleven year old boy, it was quite remarkable. Also he was literate. How could a child of his sort of origins have such skills?’

‘It’s possible of course, sir. But difficult to account for. Then there was his behaviour at night. His bed in the new stable loft was as often as not unslept in. When I observed this to him, the lad said he was used to sleeping on cobbles and was not comfortable in beds, so he slept on the floor. I was not convinced. Andreas and Karl are not so eccentric. Nor did he eat much. Mistress Margrit was continually scratching her head over how little dent he made in her cooking and larder, unlike Andreas, who ate enough for two boys. She recalled him at table, but was very vague about what he took there.’

Serge sighed. ‘So how do you explain all these oddities?’

‘Explain them, sir? I can’t. I’d have liked to have questioned him, but somehow the chance always evaded me.’

Both young men stared into their drinks. Serge felt unable to pursue the Jonas question any further. Besides, he had more pressing concerns. Eventually he and Jan scrutinised the domestic accounts and they agreed that Jan should find and take on two new pages for Serge’s household, and would stay with him while they were trained up. ‘I assume, sir, that Hans Blicke may now be considered as in the employment of the Turkish gentleman, even though you’re still paying for him?’

‘I think that when the lord Mehmed Pasha returns to Constantinople, Hans will be going with him. I could suggest that he take responsibility for the boy’s expenses and wages in the meantime, but I can guess what reaction that will provoke. As he keeps on telling me, he’s a guest in my house. Besides, Mehmed’s being very useful to us at the moment, and I don’t want to antagonise him. Now, tell me how my brother’s getting on back in Strelsau.’

***

‘It’s really good to see you, Master Jan,’ said Karl, and he meant it. The two were walking the Lines of the fortifications of Mittenheim in the late afternoon, the sun in their eyes as they looked across the great glacis to the wooded hills to the west.

Jan chuckled. ‘Considering everything that’s been happening, it was about time I arrived to offer assistance. No criticism of you, Master Wollherz. You’ve coped well despite losing Jonas, not to mention Andreas’s promotion to the nobility. Who’d have believed it? Yet you two were always special boys, and I’m proud of the way both of you have turned out. Though that Blicke boy ... well, least said the soonest mended. Perhaps he’ll be better off among those infidel Ottomans, certainly there’s not much Christian about the mad way he carries on with the pasha.’

Karl felt obliged to defend Hans, whom he liked though he didn’t understand him. ‘Oh, he works hard at his proper job, Master Jan. He’s even been helping me out with Lord Serge after Jonas left ... at least he did till the lord Mehmed hauled him off to the North Citadel.’

‘Well, well. Say no more about that. Now how do we find two new pages in this strange city? Any ideas?’

‘Don’t know, Master Jan. Strelsau back home has a hiring fair four days a year. I don’t know if this place does, and even if it does I don’t know when the days might be. It does have a workhouse, I know, and maybe it offers boys for employment on indenture.’

Jan shook his head. ‘You have no idea what sort of boy you’re getting from such places. I think perhaps we’d better wait till we get back home to Engelngasse. But keep your eyes open. There may be servants at court who’re looking for a change of air.’

Karl mused. ‘Wolpert, one of the Graf von Speyer’s lads, is looking for a change, but he wants promotion to groom. He is good, mind.’

They continued worrying at the problem till they finished their promenade along the Lines, then headed back to the Residenz. Just before they reached its east lodge and the well-manned guard post, Karl caught a familiar toothy grin flash in his direction from among a group of lounging boys watching a detachment of soldiers of the guard march past. Karl made his excuses to Jan and dodged back.

‘Wilchin!’ he declared. ‘Jonas said he’d send you. Glad to see you. What’s new?’

‘Nothing good, Karlo,’ his friend said. ‘We needs to talk.’

‘You’d better come with me to the stables. Yer can sleep with Brunhild tonight. She thinks you’re funny. But then I got to get back to Master Jan and Lord Serge, there’s only us two to take care of him.’

***

On his way back to the North Citadel from the Residenz early the next morning, Serge observed marching columns of infantry heading back along the Lines towards the city, drums beating and colours at their head. He had learned enough about military life to recognise that this was the way troops moved in the expectation of battle or in the presence of the enemy. Yet there had been no warning of any attack on the city of Mittenheim. He wondered if this was not just a precautionary deployment, or whether the prince had intelligence he was not sharing with the rest of his council.

He encountered General Dudley with his mounted staff at the citadel’s west gate, observing the movements. ‘What news, general?’ he hailed.

‘Good morning, my lord,’ he replied. ‘Orders received at dawn from the prince. There was no explanation and I assume that this is a precaution in light of the present tension with Bavaria, though, so far as I know, there is nothing as yet to link the assassination attempt with our neighbours; that is, unless you know any different.’

‘The interrogation progresses, my dear Dudley, but slowly.’ Serge was suddenly struck with curiosity. ‘Tell me, have you any acquaintance with a London gunsmith called Reynardson?’

Serge was looking straight at the general’s face as he asked the question, and picked up no discernible reaction to it, but what he did see was the flicker of Colonel Barkozy’s gaze towards his patron.

‘Reynardson?’ mused Dudley. ‘He and his sons used to have a very good business. They still may, though I think the old man would be in his seventies by now. He made his fortune in the days of the Great Rebellion. He was however a convinced Independent, like many of those London tradesman, and the restored king’s court was unfriendly to him, though under Catholic James his fortunes recovered. Why do you ask, my lord?’

‘The assassin’s weapon was a Reynardson pocket pistol.’

‘Interesting,’ the general observed. ‘You’ll find his weapons traded very well in France when King Charles was in alliance with Louis, since the English court and army were closed to his wares. Reynardson weapons would have travelled wherever French armies marched.’

Serge kept his face open and cheerful. ‘Ah! So you’d suggest that the assassin may have been in contact with French agents?’

‘Impossible to say, Sergius. Guns travel, especially those specialist weapons of the quality Reynardson produced. But it is one direction you might look, I suppose.’

Serge bid the general a good morning, and entered the citadel pondering their encounter. He found Mehmed already in the guardroom, and sitting with him was Hans Blicke, wrapped tightly in a blanket. He favoured Serge with a shy grin.

‘Progress?’ he asked.

Mehmed reached over to give the boy’s hair an affectionate ruffle. ‘I think so,’ he replied. ‘My dog of a slave here is such an actor.’

Serge shook his head. ‘You don’t pay his wages, Mehmed, and he’s not your slave.’

‘Ah, but! Remember our agreement, infidel. In return for my help, I own the boy. He becomes my slave.’

‘And as I said before, there’s been no slavery in Ruritania since the eleventh century, as far as I know. I can’t give him to you.’

‘Oh, but my lord!’ Hans pouted. ‘I thought it was agreed.’

‘All I said, young master Blicke, was that I agreed you are the pasha’s to play with, or whatever the pair of you care to do, for as long he’s in Ruritania. I’ll pay your wages and keep my opinion to myself. After that, it’s up to the pair of you how and where you carry on. So what has Hans discovered?’

‘Well, my lord,’ the boy said with his usual mixture of coyness and salaciousness. ‘It was like this. My lord pasha had me thrown back into the cell last night thoroughly flogged, naked and artfully adorned with a lot of blood that wasn’t mine, and with an ... er ... well something spectacular up my bum which shouldn’t have been there and was the devil to get in and out.

‘I wept piteously when I pretended to regain consciousness. And when I sobbed and cried out about why this was being done to poor innocent me, the prisoner comforted me and bewailed his own situation. Someone he only called “He” was supposed to arrange his escape. “He” was someone very powerful at court and in the army and had promised, but now he was beginning to doubt him. But I was not to worry, he would beg that I would be liberated along with him.’

‘In the army, you say?’

‘Oh yes, sir.’

Mehmed gave a broad grin. ‘That limits the suspects, don’t you think?’

***

Serge hastened back to the Residenz. He needed to talk to Prince Henry in light of what he had just learned, but found the antechamber to the prince’s suite densely crowded. Willi bustled up, unusually anxious for him. ‘Where have you been, Phoebus? Zeus is thundering from on high, demanding his favourite aide-de-camp. I’ve had people looking all over the place for you. Get in there. Make way! Make way!’ Willi made strategic use of his wand of office to clear a path through the throng to the doors, which two very large grenadiers were keeping.

One of the grenadiers threw open the door. Within, Serge found Prince Henry at the window in close conversation with General Antonovic. Both were in general officer’s dress. ‘There you are, at last, my lord marshal. Get yourself in uniform. We’re marching!’

‘What’s happened, royal highness?’

‘My father maintains agents at some expense in several neighbouring courts, as you know. He’s been spending freely at Munich of late, for obvious reasons. Early this morning I had a despatch from Strelsau. The assassination attempt was merely the preliminary it appears. Whether it succeeded or failed it was going to be followed up, and a Bavarian army is mustering on our frontier. Their General Gumpp was ordered by the Elector Max to march from Landshut two days ago charged with seizing Mittenheim. So I think we know who was behind Anton von Gerlitz’s madcap exploit. Cui bono, Phoebus. There! I do remember some Latin.’

‘Good heavens! What next?’

‘Well, my lord, I shall stop him of course, and hopefully before the Bavarians reach the city. If Mittenheim falls the situation will be bad for us. I expect that with Mittenheim in their hands they will dig in and my father will have to ask the Emperor for aid, and in that case Louis of France will pile in on Max’s side, which I think may be what both he and Louis want: Louis wants an excuse to move the war out of the Rhineland and bring it to the borders of Austria, while Max perhaps hopes to end up with not just Mittenheim, but all Ruritania for his own kingdom.’

‘Have we enough troops, sire?’

The prince shrugged. ‘Our young Captain Wittig von Bernenstein may tell us. I sent the lad riding hard for the frontier before dawn with a half company of well-mounted Prinzengarde to make contact with the invaders and see how far they may have penetrated and in what strength. Ominously, there has been no word this morning from the frontier fortress thirty miles away at Vorplatzenberg-am-Ebrendt: no doubt surprised and taken at worst, or closely invested at best. Damn it. We’re not well enough set up here for a siege, and the iron ring of outer forts is not yet closed.’

‘His Royal Highness has the garrison taking up positions across the highway from Vorplatzenberg up on the ridge to the west,’ added the general, ‘at the point where it crests the rise between two of the completed artillery forts. I had them finished first since it was obvious that danger would most likely come from the west. Unfortunately, though His Majesty at Strelsau is aware of the incursion and is no doubt mustering his own army in response, reinforcements cannot reach us before the city will be encircled.’

‘I’m sending Dudley with a cavalry brigade north of our position, ready to harass or outflank the Bavarian march,’ Prince Henry noted, ‘You can learn a trick or two from the Ottomans.’

Serge’s throat went tight as a horrible suspicion which had been growing at the back of his mind suddenly moved to strangle him. Prince Henry observed his expression. ‘What is it, Serge? You’ve gone white.’

***

As soon as his lord Serge had left heading for the North Citadel, Karl ran off to the stables. He found Wilchin not unexpectedly in a noisy game of pitch and toss with the stable lads. Karl grabbed his arm and pulled him away from his new friends. They walked out along the wide lane that led from the palace stables to the east lodge.

‘So where’ve yer been, Wilchin? Have yer seen Jonas? Do yer have messages?’

‘A few, and I does have lots of news. There’re things yer needs to know, Karlo. And they’re all happening too fast.’

‘So what’s up with Jonas?’

‘That’s the first bad thing. He took himself off to Faërie after he left you, and walked right into trouble. Remember them other elves he keeps going on about? The ones who don’t think he should be mucking about in Faërie at all. Well, Jonas sent some of his clan to set up a camp in the Unlikely Forest, more of a fort really. He’s learned quite a bit in his time in our world, especially about wars and how we fight them. His idea was to try to close off any humans trying to get into Faërie again, and he had some of his elves stationed in their fort watching the way in by the river, the one we took. But the other elves noticed and they moved on his camp once he quit his job with you and entered Faërie again. They were too powerful for him and his clan and they drove them deeper into Faërie. He’s on the run, hiding out in the deepest part of the Unlikely Forest with his people.’

‘Did he tell yer this?’

‘Nah. He sent one of his lieutenants. A mean elf he was, not a bit like Jonas. He’d created a body for himself like one of them big kids in the Arsenal gang: hard and tough. Nuffin friendly about him. He called me “Human Child” and gave me a “briefing” on the “military situation”.’

‘Go on.’

‘He had issues with a half-elf like me, for sure. But it was “orders”, he said, so I was to listen to what his lord and prince commanded and obey it to the letter. That was how he spoke. Bit of a dick for an elf, if yer asks me. Anyways, obviously the attack on Jonas’s camp by the rival elves means he can’t prevent any humans attempting to get into Faërie, which is gonna happen soon he says. So he needs all the help he can get from our side. And that means we has to get to the old abbey, cos that’s the only place they can cross over, and we may be able to stop them making a hole between the worlds. We has to try anyway.’

‘Medeln? We has to go there?’

‘You, me and any help yer can find.’

Karl pondered this news, as he and Wilchin paused to lean on the wall that enclosed the paddocks. Despite the distraction, it began to occur Karl that there was a lot going on around him: grooms leading horses, and the great stableyard full of Prinzengarde officers shouting orders.

‘Something’s up here too,’ he observed to Wilchin.

‘Yeah,’ said his friend, ‘and that’s the second bad thing.’

***

Prince Henry and General Antonovic stared at Serge. The general was shaking his head in disbelief, which was a bad sign. It was the prince’s reaction that Serge needed, and he simply stood frowning in his magnificent way. After a long silence, the prince gave a small nod of his head.

‘Dudley? My lord, you have to have better evidence than the word of a play-acting boy and your own suspicions, which seem a little formless to me.’

Serge was committed now, and the matter was urgent. ‘Royal highness, the man has been playing his own game since he came to Ruritania.’

‘Of course. Courtiers do. Why come to the court otherwise? We both knew he was acting in the Emperor’s interest when he came here, and he used his connection to your family to help him on his way. And when the wind blew cold from Vienna and he didn’t get his promotion, there was no dishonour for him in quitting Imperial service and moving to my father’s. You can hardly say he didn’t acquit himself well in his conduct in Dalmatia.’

‘Of course not, sire. But it was clear to me during the campaign that he felt himself overlooked and resented your preference for Tedorovic’s counsel. The rewards he got didn’t measure up to what he wanted, whether in fame, reputation or promotion. You didn’t make interest for him with your father over the vacancy as lieutenant general. That’s when I think he decided that Bavaria might have more to offer than Ruritania, and then there’s the matter of the hold that Elector Max has over him.’

‘What’s that sir?’ Antonovic interjected.

The prince pursed his lips. ‘It’s his birth, Antonovic. You’ll know he’s a bastard of the house of Wittelsbach in the old Palatinate line.’

‘Yes sire,’ Serge continued, ‘and when his father, Prince Rupert, died, he left Dudley in his will his claim on the debt the Electors Palatine owed him. Needless to say, there was no way his cousin the Elector would hand over that much money; 100,000 gold ducats Dudley told me. The most he got out of Heidelberg were letters of recommendation to the Emperor and the Elector of Bavaria. But since then the Palatinate has passed to a Catholic branch of the family, over which the Elector Max has quite a hold, one way and another.’

The prince’s frown deepened. ‘So you think Max is promising to pressure the other Wittelsbach Elector, my future brother-in-law, into compensating Dudley for his overlooked legal claim against the Palatinate?’

‘And in return Dudley is willing to assist Max in his strike into Ruritania and procure your assassination, sire. The gun given Von Gerlitz was an English weapon, not only that, but the sort of weapon a young English guards officer might well have picked up in King James’s reign, an officer like Dudley in fact.’

There was a moment of silence, then the prince swore. ‘Damn me. If you’re right, Phoebus, we are deeply in trouble. I’ve just confided a quarter of my available forces and most of my cavalry to a traitor.’

***

The two boys were heading back to the Residenz. Karl had dressed Wilchin in Jonas’s discarded livery, which he had stored in a chest he kept in Brunhild’s box in the stable. She could be counted on to look after anything stored there, and petty theft was rife in palaces, as Karl had swiftly learned.

‘Karlo, shouldn’t you be looking for your lord?’ Wilchin asked.

‘No, after what you told me, I need to find Lord Willi. This way,’ he ordered, leading his friend through the east lodge into the grounds of the Residenz. Two servant boys in red livery got little notice from the guards.

‘The place is like an anthill,’ Wilchin observed.

‘Something’s up alright. Wilchin, do you remember what She told you?’

‘What?’

‘The Lady Fenice’s prophecy. About lying and reaping great honour and telling the truth and accepting dishonour. Well, now’s the time. I kept a secret She told me from my lord Strelsau. It’s time he knew it. That and a lot else.’

‘Will he believe us?’

Karl frowned. ‘He’s more likely to than my lord Sergius, that’s for sure.’

They made their way into the palace but there was no passing the guards into the privy chambers. Karl looked at Wilchin. ‘Go on then.’

‘What?’

‘Do yer stuff.’

Wilchin sighed and walked right up to the nearest musketeer, who stared down his nose at the urchin. Wilchin put his hands on his hips and stared back up at the soldier. No words were said, though the man’s eyelids flickered briefly, then he reached back and opened the door, making way for the two boys.

Karl raised an eyebrow as the door closed behind them.

‘He thought I was a king’s messenger,’ said Wilchin. ‘Not very bright that one. Takes more effort with most people.’

They were in the antechamber and a knot of courtiers was at the far end, where Willi von Strelsau was in conversation with another young lord. Karl hurried over to him. Now that it had to be done, he was keen to get the revelation over.

‘What’s this, Master Wollherz? A message? And who’s this other child? A replacement for the mysterious Jonas?’

‘Could I have a brief word, my lord Strelsau. It’s urgent.’

‘All hell’s broken loose here, but carry on, child. You can’t add to today’s complications.’

‘Over by the window, my lord, if you please.’

‘You’re getting as bossy as Master Lisku. And I don’t even pay you. Very well, what is it?’

Karl put his hand inside his coat and pulled out a leather pouch. ‘Please look at this, excellency.’

Frowning, Willi opened the pouch and pulled out the glittering object within. He looked startled, then annoyed. ‘Did you take this from my quarters, young Karl? What on earth are you doing with my mother’s ring? I could have you flogged for this, and not in the nice way Hans Blicke appreciates.’

‘No sir. This isn’t the ring you have. It’s the other one of the pair.’

Willi stared at the boy, before his mouth reengaged. ‘There are many questions that leap to mind at this point, boy. But let’s start with the obvious; where in the name of all the devils did you find this object?’

‘I think you know where I found it, my lord.’

Willi stared at him, then gave a slow nod. ‘That damned abbey. I’d already worked out that’s where the king sent my mother. You were there a year and more ago as I recall. But who gave it to you?’

‘One of the nuns, my lord. She didn’t tell me what it was, only that I was to hold on to it until the time was right.’

‘Who was this nun? The formidable abbess, Lord Serge’s aunt?’

‘No sir, another one. The abbess is the one who’s keeping your lady mother confined.’

‘And how did you get to realise what it was and what it signified?’

‘I heard around the house sir, and you let me see your mother’s ring, the other of the pair. I’m sorry I kept it secret my lord, but I didn’t know when was the right time.’

‘So why now?’

The boy heaved a sigh. ‘That will take time to explain, my lord. But there’s little enough of it. You’re needed at Medeln.’

‘I beg to differ, young Karl. With a Bavarian army marching on Mittenheim, the city in defence and all hell let loose, I need to be here with Prince Henry.’

‘Your lady mother needs your help.’

‘And how do you know this? You’re being more mysterious than your very strange little friend, Jonas Niemand.’

‘He’s stranger than you might imagine, my lord, and that’s both part of the explanation and the problem.’

Wilchin had sidled up, and butted in. ‘Jonas is an elf, sir, not a human boy. He’s thousands and thousands of years old, and he does magic, all kinds.’

Willi was so distracted he pulled off his wig. ‘What a time to get answers.’

‘So you believe me?’ Karl asked.

‘I didn’t say that, but I’m listening. Come with me.’ Willi marched out of the prince’s suite and through doors out on to the terrace, the two boys trailing after him. He sat on the stone balustrade, fanned himself with his wig, and took a deep breath.

‘So tell me about Jonas Niemand,’ he ordered, frowning in concentration.

‘Well sir, I met him on the streets of Strelsau just after my lord Serge took me into his service. He was the “ghost boy” that talked me into returning to Engelngasse after I ran away.’

Willi nodded. ‘I remember that,’ he replied.

‘When I was at Tarlenheim, he appeared to me again and told me about the old count, my lord Serge’s grandfather, and how he came to disappear and what he was up to at the abbey. It was all about the Tarlenheim blood he said, and my lord Boromeo’s in particular.’

‘The young captain? Well, well. Go on boy. But what’s this to do with my mother?’

‘Well sir, the point is it’s the blood that is a key to unlock the door into another place where all sorts of strange things can happen.’

‘Faërie,’ Wilchin contributed.

‘Yes, and that’s where the old count went and met his end, because he couldn’t control the forces he let loose, like getting on a wild horse that won’t be tamed, sir. But once unsealed, the door can be opened again, and there’s people that are trying, not least his daughter the abbess, we think. She’s a wicked one, alright, and a sorceress. Your lady mother was supposed to follow the old Abbess Clothilde and be abbess in her turn, and also be guardian of the place and its secrets, but my lord Serge’s aunt stopped it and took over the abbey, keeping your mother imprisoned by her magic. Now she’s scheming to open that door again for her own benefit, and she has enough sorcery of her own to do it.’

‘But there are others involved, yes?’

‘Oh yes, sir.’

‘Who does your elf say they are?’

‘Well sir, the old count had disciples other than his daughter, the wicked abbess. But they can cloak themselves from him. He doesn’t know who they are and won’t till they make their move.’

‘Mystery on mystery. The things you’ve been carrying around in your head, boy.’

‘You don’t know the half of it, my lord,’ Wilchin grinned.

‘Hold on! You and Boromeo have been thick as thieves of late. How much of this does he know?’

‘All of it, sir. Jonas revealed himself to him at Tarlenheim.’

Willi’s frown deepened. ‘Things are becoming clearer. Andreas is in this too, isn’t he? All those very strange events on the battlefields of Sebenico and Basovizza involving you and your little friends. Your elf had a hand in them, didn’t he?’

‘Yes sir, Andreas has a great gift.’

‘That wretched sword of his he won’t give up. I knew it. It’s a damned Excalibur.’

‘A what, sir?’

‘Never mind. Your education definitely needs more work on it, child.’

‘So you believe me?’

‘Damned right I do. Not that Phoebus ever would. You did right to come to me. But what a time to do it! What next then?’

‘Well sir, I believe we need to get to Medeln, and we can do it the hard way, or the easy way.’

‘No. That’s not possible at the moment. Had it occurred to you that what’s happening here in Mittenheim with traitors and invasions is all part of what your elf is fighting? The abbess’s allies or rivals or whatever they are are at work here, and for a purpose too, I’ll bet.’

‘But sir! Something’s happening there or about to, I can sense it. And Boro’s in danger.’

‘I believe you, young Karl. I also believe you’re not telling me everything, or anything near it. Your “feelings” seem to arise from more than just intuition. Was Andreas alone in getting gifts from the elf?’

***

‘Ooh! He’s a sharp one is the Black Bastard,’ Wilchin commented as they headed to the stables.

‘You cheated, didn’t you,’ Karl replied.

‘It’s what I do. But it didn’t take much to nudge his mind into being open to what you were saying, Karlo, what with his anxiety about his mum and all. He’s a one who’d like there to be elves and magic. So I just helped him along a little.’

‘You’d better not do that to me.’

‘Who says I haven’t?’ Wilchin flashed his wide and irresistible grin.

‘But we’re stuck here now. He won’t go with us to the abbey, at least not yet.’

Wilchin shrugged. ‘Ando’s out there being brave again. To be honest, I’d not want to go and confront that witch out at the abbey without him and his sword, and what if the fight takes us into Faërie again?’

‘In the meantime, I have to worry about Boro. I can’t get to warn him. He’s not in a place I can take us to, where the barriers are thin. I can make a leap to Medeln, but not back home to Strelsau.’

‘Write a letter?’

Karl shook his head. ‘Are you being serious? It’ll take days to reach the guards barracks at Strelsau. Why don’t you call Jonas?’

‘He’s not receiving at the moment.’

‘It’s all coming together in a way I don’t like. War here, and war in the other world. Ando riding off into danger. Boro beyond our help.’

The boys headed to the Residenz stables. As they reached the gates Karl came to an abrupt stop, his ear cocked. A very familiar and ominous sound had reached him. Restless whinnying and stamping from his equine friends showed they had heard it too. It was the crack and rumble of a cannon shot, loud, sharp and unmistakable. It came from away to the north, echoing back from the hills of the Ebrendt valley.