Deadly Peril (22 page)

Alec remained unmoved. There was something about the British Consul that put him on his guard. He could not place precisely what that was; that Luytens could barely meet his gaze certainly made matters awkward between them. They had parted as friends ten years ago, and Alec had assumed the friendship remained unchanged, despite distance and time. But when Alec had stuck out his hand in greeting, Luytens had taken it reluctantly, and with none of the enthusiasm associated with the meeting of long-lost friends. And not five minutes into their conversation, the merchant was making enquiries about the requested ransom in jewels and coin, a ransom of which Alec remained ignorant, though Luytens’ persistent enquiry confirmed his suspicion that Sir Gilbert, with Olivia’s blessing, had brokered a deal behind his back (and
that
was something else for him to deal with).

But what surprised and disappointed him most was that Luytens could not provide any assurances that Cosmo and Emily were safe and being treated well. Alec had had to ask. Luytens’ reply was perfunctory at best, which only increased Alec’s anxiety—either Luytens did not know, or his friends were not being accorded every courtesy as political prisoners. Alec had not insisted on a report, not with his uncle, godmother, and Selina within earshot. And now the merchant was willing to let his fellow citizens freeze to death for the sake of his profit margin?! What had happened to the man who had risked his own neck to save Alec’s all those years ago? Had the Seven Years’ War and now this civil unrest turned him into a mercenary?

“You know better than anyone at this table,” Alec said quietly, “that in times of war sacrifices must be made—”

“
Sacrifices
? What would you know of sacrifice, Herr Baron?” Luytens demanded, fists pounding the table, clattering the crockery and causing the black-and-white house cat curled up on the rug in front of the
kachelofen
, to wake in fright and dash out into the corridor as the door opened. “When was the last time England was occupied by a foreign power and its subjects terrorized? When did an Englishman—
you
—last have to defend home and hearth from his neighbors?”

“I’m not here to debate history with you, Jacob,” Alec replied calmly.

Colonel Müller rose off his chair the instant Luytens pounded the table, a hand to his sword hilt, but Alec shook his head, and he sank back down. The Colonel did not understand Dutch. Neither did Plantagenet Halsey or Sir Gilbert Parsons. But all three recognized disrespect in tone and action.

“It’s late and we would all like to go to our beds. But first we must finalize the details of this journey. If you feel you’ve been inadequately compensated by His Majesty’s government,” Alec continued in English, for the benefit of Sir Gilbert and his uncle, who had been patiently silent throughout most of dinner and a discussion which had been conducted in German, and when remembered, sprinkled with French to try and include the two older gentlemen, “I suggest you take up your grievance with Sir Gilbert later tonight, or very early tomorrow morning, before I head off. But at this very minute, I need your advice for the journey to Castle Herzfeld.” He glanced significantly at Colonel Müller, who was ignorant of the conversation, and back at Luytens. “I don’t need to remind you why I am here.”

He let the sentence fall away, to give Jacob Luytens time to find his equilibrium, and to allow Sir Gilbert to add to the conversation if he wished to. But neither Sir Gilbert nor his uncle said a word. In fact they had said very little since the incident on the jetty, which was most uncharacteristic, particularly for Sir Gilbert, who had spent the entire sea voyage pontificating. A glance at both and he suspected their silence was due more to continued shock than good manners; they were still coming to terms with the revelation that the title Baron of Aurich had been personally bestowed upon him by Margrave Leopold. He politely declined to reveal the why, the what, and the wherefores of such an honor, though he had reluctantly shown them upon request his baronial ring, and the documents attached to his elevation.

Earlier that day, his uncle had told him as an aside that at the docks Sir Gilbert had removed his nose from between his diplomatic documents just in time to witness Colonel Müller grab Alec’s hand to kiss the intaglio. That, and watching the soldiers along the jetty salute him had sent the diplomat reeling, the documents dropped from his hand to the filthy wet cobbles without a thought. The old man had chuckled and shook his head, but Alec derived no amusement from his deception, and could not apologize enough for not being able to take him into his confidence; he still could not. To which Plantagenet Halsey had patted his shoulder and told him not to worry: He had every confidence in him. Far from clearing Alec’s conscience, it made him more wretched. And that in turn, made him want to set matters to rights with all speed.

Perhaps more tea would help keep them awake, and put everyone in a better mood. So he lifted his mug with a smile, a signal to the housekeeper who sat on a bench by the heater, knitting, to bring more tea. With a shy smile and a quick curtsey, she came forward to collect the teapot so she could refill it with hot water from the brewing kettle in the adjoining kitchen.

“Aye, you’ve been generous to a fault with your coin for the upkeep of your guests while they’ll be staying here in Emden,” Jacob Luytens begrudgingly conceded, reverting to the German language to include Colonel Müller. “I daily count my blessings that my wife and four of my children are out of harm’s way in Holland. They were visiting Elsa’s mother when the borders were closed. But I have my eldest, Hilda, with me,” he added, a nod to the girl who had come to fetch the teapot. He watched her clear away the used bowls and cutlery, and deftly handle a stack of plates. “Hilda’s a good girl, an excellent housekeeper and cook. She’ll keep the house clean and warm, and her old father fed, until her mother and brothers return.”

The girl smiled, dropped another quick curtsey and scuttled from the room, returning several times to collect up the remainder of the dinner dishes, and finally to set a heavy teapot full of freshly-brewed tea and a plate of aromatic ginger biscuits, baked that afternoon, on the table. She then retreated to her seat by the
kachelofen
and took up her knitting. Her father handled the large teapot and refilled everyone’s mugs, then set the milk jug and bowl of candied rock, used in lieu of sugar, in the center of the table with the biscuits. He took one from the plate and held it up as he offered the plate to Plantagenet Halsey, saying in halting English, “Ginger. Is very good. Take two.”

“As you are fortunate, Jacob, you cannot surely wish to begrudge your fellow citizens, and the Margrave’s militia, some good fortune, also?” Alec said smoothly in German for the benefit of the Colonel, and so Luytens could not renege on an offer about to be forced upon him. “Colonel Müller will be most grateful to have access to the stockpile of turf. In giving it freely, the Colonel will ensure it is evenly distributed. Is that not so, Colonel?”

The ginger biscuit suddenly lost its flavor. The merchant did not like having his hand forced. But he was not surprised. His English friend had a smooth tongue and a handsome smile that meant people went out of their way to help him. He’d saved his life years ago, and in return for what? In the decade since he had aided Alec Halsey’s escape from Midanich, the man had gone on to inherit title, wealth, and a life of leisure while he, Luytens, the British Consul of Midanich, had lost everything to wars and ill-timed investments. Life had been unfair, and it was not his fault. Well, that was about to change. He’d been promised a King’s ransom if he could entice Halsey to leave England and travel to Midanich; Baron Haderslev said that in itself would be a miracle. Well, he’d performed that miracle, because here was Halsey sitting at his table in Emden. He had managed to get the nobleman this far; he could certainly perform another miracle and have him return to Castle Herzfeld; that was but one small step further to him, Luytens, being richly rewarded for his part in the capture and incarceration of Alec Halsey.

So while he had no wish to waste good turf on an occupying force—Emden’s stores of grain and other essentials were already dangerously depleted with the need to house and feed the grenadiers—a moment’s reflection was enough for Luytens to realize that if the Colonel thought the offer of turf was freely made, it could play to his advantage when he required a favor in return.

“Of course I wish every one of our citizens—and the militia—to be warm this winter, Herr Baron,” Luytens replied, tempering his anger and giving Alec a curt nod. He looked to the Colonel. “I will inform the City Council that it would be in their best interests—and the collective good of the entire community—for the stockpile of turf to be handed over to you and your men for distribution amongst all the residences within the town’s walls.”

Colonel Müller looked to Alec. “If I may be permitted to comment…?” When Alec nodded, the Colonel’s mouth twisted into an unpleasant smile as he addressed Jacob Luytens. “You were wise to offer up the turf freely, Herr Luytens. Now knowing about the stockpile, I would have been obligated to tear every warehouse apart in search of such a precious resource. In winter, turf is more precious than gold. But of course, you know that. But perhaps you did not know that withholding resources from the Margrave’s army, particularly in time of war, is a treasonable offence? The Baron has saved you and your people unnecessary expense and suffering. Herr Baron,” he added, addressing Alec in an entirely different voice. “I give you my solemn word that this—
gift
—will be distributed first to those in need, particularly to the hospital, the orphanages, and the churches, then amongst the townspeople and my men. I cannot thank you enough. You, and through you His Highness, will save many from freezing this winter.”

“Please, Colonel, no thanks are necessary,” Alec stated, cutting him off, a heightened color to his cheeks at such effuse gratitude. “That you will take the right and decent action and see that those in most need are provided for is all the thanks I—and His Highness the Margrave—require.”

Alec believed the Colonel would do right by the people of Emden because he was fundamentally a good and decent man. He wished his uncle was able to understand the German language; the two men would have found much in common to discuss, regardless of their opposing political sentiments.

“Now, if we could return to the map,” he continued, not a glance at Jacob Luytens, who he was certain was simmering away with resentment and embarrassment at being called to account; the Colonel’s threat would only add to his bitterness. “Let’s go over the logistics of the journey one last time. Colonel, you have been able to fulfill my requirements?”

“Yes, Herr Baron.” Colonel Müller showed Alec the pages of a small leather-bound ledger, which had scrawled in it a long and detailed list. “Four trekschuiten—barges—have been outfitted: Two for yourself and your traveling companions, another loaded up with luggage and stores, and a fourth—a cargo barge—has the five sledges, requisitioned from members of the town.”

“Sledges?”

“Yes, Herr Baron. The canal terminates at Aurich, so from there the journey is overland. And at this time of year, the marshlands might not be entirely frozen, but the road will be sufficiently icy to carry the sledges, and at speed.”

“And the horses and drivers needed…?”

“Aurich has horses, but I do not hold out much hope of its citizens being able to supply you with the type of animal which has the speed and endurance you require. The town was badly treated by the occupying French force; anything of value was pillaged. Hence, livestock was taken, or eaten, and any horse worth its shoes, confiscated. It will take many years for that town—many towns—and our people to recover from such an occupation. But,” the Colonel added with a shrug of acceptance, “war is war, and we are no longer occupied by a foreign power.”

“No. Now we are at war with ourselves!” Jacob Luytens stuck in, raising his mug with mock congratulation. “After all those years of occupation by French pigs, and then snot-nosed Englishmen—no offence to present company—you’d think we’d have the brains to want peace at any cost. But not Prince Viktor—
traitorous bastard
.”

Alec let Luytens have his moment, and then repeated his question with great patience, as if his host had not spoken at all, “And the horses and drivers, Colonel Müller?”

“Allow me to supply you with both. The regiment has the necessary horses—Frisians, the best there are. Two for each sledge. I also have drivers skilled in handling such apparatus in this weather. I am also assigning a company to protect you and your party and the trekschuiten. They will follow the towpath on foot, ahead and behind the jagers.”

A company was between a hundred to a hundred fifty men, and the need for so many soldiers surprised Alec. “You expect to encounter Prince Viktor’s forces at this time of year? Didn’t you tell me the rebels had retreated as far south as Leerhafe for the winter?”

“That is correct, Herr Baron. The last communiqué reported a battalion of rebels marching from here—” The Colonel pointed to a spot on the map on the outskirts of the town of Wittmund and traced a line south to Leerhafe. “We can deduce from that, the Prince has indeed retreated south for the winter. But we must also assume he has left behind troops—perhaps a company—at Aurich, which he managed to overrun and occupy a month ago. That town is the largest and the best fortified, and it is strategically necessary, if he hopes to march on Emden in the spring. And so with Aurich in the hands of the rebels, it is not safe for you to leave the protection of the trekschuiten and the canal, without troops loyal to the Margrave to protect you and your party. I do not foresee the rebels leaving the safety of the town to engage a company of my men in combat. If I was in command of Viktor’s troops, I would advise a strategy of containment—hold on to Aurich at all costs. Allowing a small party of travelers to move freely on to Wittmund is not so important that they would risk losing their hold on the town. But—” The Colonel gave a lop-sided smile. “—they would risk such an encounter and loss if they knew you were one of the party, Herr Baron. It is vital then that your identity be kept secret so that you are not taken prisoner by rebels, and become a hostage of Prince Viktor. You were wise to remain incognito on the sea voyage here.”