Circle of Shadows
Copyright © 2012 Imogen Robertson
The right of Imogen Robertson to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2012
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN : 9780755372096
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DEATH AT THE CARNIVAL
Shrove Tuesday, 1783. While the nobility dance at a masked ball in a small market town, the beautiful Lady Martesen is murdered. Daniel Clode is found by her body, his wrists slit and his memories blurred and nightmarish. What has he done?
A DESPERATE MISSION
Harriet Westerman and Gabriel Crowther race to the Duchy of Maulberg to save Daniel from the executioner’s axe. There they find a capricious Duke on the point of marriage, a court consumed by luxury and intrigue, and a bitter enemy from the past.
RIDDLE, RITUAL AND MURDER
After another cruel death, Harriet and Crowther must discover the truth, no matter how horrific it is. Does the answer lie with the alchemist seeking the elixir of life? With the automata makers in the Duke’s fake rural idyll? Or in the poisonous rumours oozing around the court as the elite strive for power?
Imogen Robertson grew up in Darlington, studied Russian and German at Cambridge, and now lives in London. She directed for TV, film and radio before becoming a full-time author, and also writes and reviews poetry. Imogen won the
Telegraph
’s ‘First thousand words of a novel competition’ in 2007 with the opening of
Instruments of Darkness
, her debut.
Anatomy of Murder
and
Island of Bones
, which was shortlisted for the CWA Ellis Peters Historical Award 2011, were also richly praised.
Want to know more? Visit
www.imogenrobertson.com
and follow Imogen’s blog.
Also by Imogen Robertson
Instruments of Darkness
Anatomy of Murder
Island of Bones
Circle of Shadows
‘Matchless storytelling, gripping and moving in equal measure. Addictive’ Nicci French
‘[An] audacious mix of a cultural gloss and uncomplicated, straight-ahead storytelling. The multi-layered nuance of Peter Ackroyd and the buttonholing narrative grasp of Stephen King are stirred into the mix. Although such a combination shouldn’t really work, Robertson makes the various elements coalesce to striking effect’
Independent
‘Authentic naval settings, the noises and smells of London, the opera – all are given the benefit of Robertson’s outstanding attention to detail’
Daily Mail
‘Extremely impressive…a story, told by Robertson with great panache, of jealousy, greed and unkindness among the upper classes’
The Times
‘Chillingly memorable. Imogen Robertson is an exquisite writer, and this is an extraordinary thriller’ Tess Gerritsen
‘Imogen Robertson is annual delight. Her quirky detectives strike sparks off each other as they sleuth the length of Georgian England at its most genteel, and deadly’ Amanda Craig
‘Stylish, enigmatic and wonderfully atmospheric…a story of secrecy and shame, reason and passion, that resonates long after you reach the final page’ Francis Wheen
For Charles and Adam
Huge thanks as always to my friends and family for their support. Much needed, much appreciated. Also to my editor Flora Rees and everyone at Headline, my agent Annette Green, Goldsboro Books, Richard Foreman and the angels.
Thank you too to the staff of the library at the German Historical Institute in Bloomsbury, the Freemasons’ Hall in Covent Garden and, as always, to the British Library. To Andrew again for his advice on the esoteric, and particular thanks to Michael and Maria Start at the House of Automata, for their hospitality and kindness, and for showing us their wonderful collection. I also want to thank whoever handed in my wallet to the police station in Karlsruhe in September 2010. A lot. Iestyn Davies and his recordings remain an inspiration for all that is best in Manzerotti. And again, all my thanks to Ned who fell in love with Germany, promised me a cage of singing birds, and is very tolerant of me leaving Seals of Solomon lying about the place. I’m very lucky to have him.
17 July 1782, Ulrichsberg, Duchy of Maulberg, Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation
T
HE ROOM IS DARK
, lit only by a single candle on the surface of a rough wooden table. The air is perfumed, like church, and heavy with the heat of the day now gone. On one side of the table sits a woman, hardly more than a girl, in a dark blue dress. A gold cross glints at her throat. Her hair, black as pitch and combed to a sleek shine, frames her face and hangs loose over her shoulders. Her face is white and thin. She looks up and smiles.
‘Are we prepared?’
Opposite her, seated in a line like children at their lessons, are four other young people. Two men, two women. They do not look as brightly confident as she. Their shoulders are hunched, their eyes wide. To judge by their clothes, they work for a living. The cloth that covers them is of good quality, but earthy in its tones. No silk. No jewellery to throw the light around. The candle flutters suddenly and one of the women jumps, startled by the movement in the still air, but she feels the girl’s eyes on her and nods bravely. The girl places her hands flat on the table and the four others copy her. Their fingers creep towards each other till they touch lightly, little finger to little finger, thumb to thumb till the outstretched hands form a circle around the base of the candle, the fronds of their fingers reaching towards the light. The shadows leap and play around them, weaving back and forth as if driven by something more than the flame, running towards them and away like waves. The girl in blue breathes deeply and tosses her dark hair from her face. She begins to speak.
‘Sagar, Adona, Egolo, Catan, by our Lord and God, by His holy angels, by the Light of the World, I ask you to come to us. Show what is hidden, tell the truths concealed, open the tomb, pull back the terrible veil of night, and let the dead speak …’ Her voice begins in a sing-song, then sinks to a low, guttural command. It no longer sounds entirely human. Her eyes are half-closed. One of the women opposite begins to tremble and the light flickers again. The strange floral scent in the air has grown stronger. The girl in blue lifts her head and the table starts shaking violently then settles, suddenly. The girl’s companions are as white as she now. The older woman has started to recite the Lord’s Prayer very quietly.
‘The spirits are with us.’ The girl’s eyes are blank, but she tilts her head slightly. ‘Who is it that comes?’ She looks as if she is trying to hear something far off. ‘A lady, noble … she is tall, young. Were you taken from this world in childbirth, madam?’ The youngest of the men flinches, and the girl in blue sees it. ‘She looks so sad.’ Her companions glance about them, furtively searching the rising and falling shadows, but afraid of what they might see. ‘What is your name, madam? Sarah?’ No, she shakes her head. ‘Anne?’ The young man, barely more than a boy, wets his lips and stares at the girl intently. The girl in blue frowns. ‘Anna …’
The boy opens his mouth. ‘Antonia, madam? Is it Antonia?’
The girl in blue nods. ‘Antonia. Antonia sends greetings to her most faithful servant, and friend.’ The boy flushes, his eyes fill with tears. ‘Antonia is come to hear news of those she left behind. She fears for them, their grief. Her concern draws her out of the darkness of death to speak to us.’ The boy is crying now, but he keeps his hands where they are and nods his head.
