Leading Lady (24 page)

‘Now there's a thought for the spring! Cristabel –'

But she had swept him a deep curtsy and turned away.

The snow slackened in the night, giving way to a brilliant blue morning, and the search-parties were just starting out when a hooded figure came in sight, ploughing through drifted snow at the turn of the mountain road.

‘Fylde, do you think?' Joseph, leading the party, turned back to Franz, who had agreed to stay home with Martha.

‘I don't think so.' Franz shook his head. ‘Not tall enough. Look – it's one of the Fathers.'

‘So it is! With news, I hope.' He had recognised the man now as a probationer who had jibbed at taking the Trappists' final vow of silence. He moved forward to greet him as an old friend. ‘Heinz! What brings you out through this new snow?'

‘We need a doctor –' He paused, remembering. ‘Highness! We've got a very sick man up there. Brother Anselm found him when he was tending the cow last night. He'd got as far as the outer fence, fallen there, lain in the snow God knows how long. We got him in, warmed him as best we could, but his breath rattles in his chest … He's not come round at all … We need help, highness. The brothers sent me to you.'

‘Do you know who it is?'

‘Brother Martin thinks it's the tenor from the opera house. He heard him once last summer. We're afraid for his voice, highness, as well as his life.'

‘I'll come.' Joseph turned to tell a servant to fetch his medical bag. ‘Franz, send down to Cristabel will you? Tell her that her husband is found. Don't let her try to come to him. The path is going to be bad enough for me. If I can I'll have him brought down to the palace, but I doubt I'll be able to. Any further exposure might kill him.'

‘He must have been out long enough already, if he was not found till nightfall.'

‘I'm afraid so. Tell her not to be too hopeful.'

‘Hopeful?' The brothers exchanged a long look.

Desmond Fylde was lying on the bed that had been Joseph's during the summer he had spent with the Fathers. They had heaped him with all the coverings they could find, and put hot bricks to his feet, but he was still shivering convulsively. His breath came harsh and painfully and he looked an old man, Joseph thought, the vital spirit drained out of him.

He muttered to himself as Joseph examined him and sent for more hot bricks, a charcoal stove close to the bed, anything to get rid of his deadly chill. ‘No use.' The words became intelligible at last, but the sunken eyes looked unseeingly past Joseph. ‘I'm finished, done for. Better like this. Let me go, there's a good fellow. To be an old man, an old fool, sitting by someone else's fire?' He spoke as if every word hurt him. ‘She mocked me. Threw me out! Into the snow … Only being civil … Threw me out … So cold … Going to the Fathers … Thinking of a story … Snowing all the time.' He paused for a moment, breathing heavily. ‘She led me on! Of course she did. An Irish prince … I told her … Invade Ireland … Her uncle … Bitch! … Long line of Irish princes …' His eyes focused at last on Joseph. ‘It's the doctor prince! A prince at my bedside. At my deathside. No!' He pushed away the offered hot drink. ‘One prince to another – let me go. Nothing left … Laughed at … mocked … into the snow … used up … useless … the Hound of Ulster!'

Joseph fought for him all that day and all night, but with less and less hope. With no fight from within, no will to live, what chance could there be? Minette had destroyed some vital cog in Fylde's machinery, broken him with one ruthless gesture. By next morning, he had stopped muttering and the slow, painful breath was only a whisper.

Not long now, Joseph thought as the light grew, and looked up to see Cristabel standing in the doorway, dressed in one of her men's costumes, under a heavy fur coat. ‘Is he –?'

‘Dying.' Joseph made room for her by the bed and she took Fylde's hand.

‘He's so cold! What happened?'

‘He did go with Minette. From what he said, she had him
thrown out of the carriage … He lost his way in the snow. Cristabel, he doesn't want to live …'

‘No.' She looked down thoughtfully at the still figure on the bed, rubbing the cold hand between both her own. ‘He wouldn't, not like this.'

‘Cristabel?' Fylde's tired eyes opened.

‘Yes.' She bent closer.

‘I'm sorry. Such a fool … But tell him, tell your doctor prince she doesn't know … I never told her … not about the road … princes don't … Kiss me, my queen?'

She bent to do so, felt the effort he made, and then –

‘He's gone,' said Joseph quietly.

‘Ah, poor Desmond.' One long look, then she bent to close the staring eyes with a hand that shook just a little. ‘I loved him, you know. Once. I'm glad I was here. But it was you I came for. There's trouble at the palace.'

‘Trouble?'

‘The French. They've taken over the palace. Moved in last night. Disarmed our guards … You weren't there … Luckily I'd stayed with Martha – Why had nobody told me about her? Max and Franz are under arrest, I think, but nobody bothered about us, just put a guard on the door. So I came through the tunnel. Martha told me about it. I didn't like it much, but we must go back that way. Surprise them.'

‘I'd forgotten about that tunnel.' He had belatedly taken in that she was not covered in snow, then, looking down at the body, ‘I'll tell them to bury him here, shall I? Before the ground freezes too hard.'

‘Yes, please. Poor Desmond,' she said again. ‘I'm glad you were with him. Thank you, Joseph.' She touched Fylde's cold forehead. ‘We must hurry! Martha's alone.'

He gave the orders quickly and five minutes later they were in the tunnel. So much to say, and none of it could be said. He was almost glad that the going was so difficult. ‘You were a heroine to manage this alone,' he told her, sighing with relief as he opened the door at the far end.

‘Oh, heroines!' They were climbing the rough inner stair in the palace now and she pushed cautiously at the secret door into the royal apartments.

‘Thank God!' Martha rose to greet them, hugged Cristabel
and turned to Joseph. ‘What are we going to do? They've got Franz!'

‘Do you know where he is?' He put a soothing hand on hers.

‘Anna's trying to find out. He's being held hostage to make you give yourself up. If you don't, it will be the dungeons …'

‘I wonder where they think I am,' said Joseph.

‘Nobody's told them anything. I do know that.'

‘And nobody will,' said Cristabel. ‘If I know the Lissenbergers. But I wish I understood …'

‘There are so few of the French. And no leader among the officers.' Joseph had been thinking about it too. ‘Something must have panicked them.'

‘Someone.' Martha had had time to think about it. ‘Your father, do you think?'

‘I don't know, but I was mad to leave him at Gustavsberg. I'm sorry, Martha … But they won't hurt Franz, I'm sure. They are civilised people after all, the French.'

‘No one is entirely civilised when he's afraid,' said Martha.

‘You're right. So we must reassure them. There's a guard on the outside door here, I take it?'

‘Yes, but they've been very civil about it, I must say. Anna comes to and fro … Everyone seems to know … About me …'

‘Good. I told you they were civilised. Fathers themselves, some of them, missing their wives. I wonder … Cristabel?'

‘Yes?'

‘Would there be a French officer's uniform in the wardrobe at the opera house?'

‘Bound to be.'

‘And someone who speaks good French?'

She thought for a moment. ‘I could find someone.'

‘Good. Dress him in uniform. Tell him to cut up through the vineyards, come down to the palace by the mountain road, exhausted, with a tale of a foundered horse and lost despatches … and an urgent summons from the Emperor. Every man needed for the siege of Vienna. Who would dare disobey that?'

‘It's certainly worth a try,' said Cristabel. ‘But how am I
to get down to the opera house? I'm afraid the French know about that tunnel. Everyone does.'

‘Yes, a pity. But I think we can manage. I am about to emerge, very much the prince. Take control, if I can. It's worth a try. Straight from your husband's deathbed.' To Cristabel. ‘Give her a handkerchief, Martha. The desolate widow. I'm sorry!' He had seen Cristabel flinch. ‘We need Anna, Martha.'

‘She should be here any minute.' She cocked her head, listening, gestured them to silence. ‘And here she is.' They could hear Anna speaking to the guard outside as he opened the door for her.

‘Oh, thank God!' Anna saw Joseph, closed the door firmly behind her. ‘You're safe, highness!'

‘For the moment. What's happening in the palace, Anna? And where are my brothers?'

‘Prince Franz is in the armoury, under guard. I'm sorry –' to Martha, ‘they wouldn't let me see him. He's being held hostage for you, sir. They won't hurt him.' This to Martha again.

‘And Max?'

‘They've not got him. No one knows where he is. They are still looking.'

‘He's the one who knows the palace best,' said Joseph. ‘With a bit of luck he got clean away in the confusion when the French took over the castle. And that reminds me, the French officers, Anna. What are they doing?'

‘Sir, I don't think they know what to do. They're all in the great hall … arguing. They're frightened, I think. I don't understand much French, more's the pity.'

‘Time I went to them. They need a leader, and that's what I'm going to be. Can you get the guard away from the door, Anna? Just long enough for Lady Cristabel and me to get out without being seen?'

‘Oh, I think so, sir,' said Anna cheerfully. ‘He's not a bad chap, that guard. He's even learned a little Liss. If I can get him down to the end of the hall, could you slip out, quickly, while he's busy.'

‘Admirable!' Nobody asked what the sentry would be busy doing. Joseph bent to kiss Martha on both cheeks. ‘Take care
of yourself and our little Lissenberger, Martha. And I'll send Franz to you just as soon as I can.'

‘Dear Joseph.' She smiled up at him mistily. ‘I know you will.' She and Cristabel exchanged a quick hug. ‘I've never said how sorry I am.'

‘No time,' said Cristabel. ‘Poor Desmond.'

The two of them slipped quickly down the corridor with just one amused glance for the sentry, who, with Anna in his arms, was totally oblivious. ‘This way.' Joseph had studied his palace since taking it over and led the way quickly down a series of side passages, to emerge, suddenly, close to the dais in the great hall.

It was babel. So far as he could see, all the French officers were present, all frantically talking on a rising tide of noise. He took the steps of the dais in a stride. ‘Silence!' The command, shouted in French, was almost instantly effective. ‘What madness is this?' He went on over the last few fragments of anxious talk. ‘What folly have you idiots been committing while I've been away at Monsieur Fylde's deathbed? Who is in charge at Lissenberg? Who at Brundt? Worst of all, who is watching Prince Gustav?' He singled out three faces in the crowd, beckoned them to him. ‘You, you and you. What explanation can you give for leaving your posts?'

‘It's a conspiracy, sir, a dangerous one.' The officer who had been in charge at Lissenberg hurried to explain himself. ‘We were all to have been murdered in our beds. Last night, it was to have been. My friend here got the word –'

‘Yes.' The man from Brundt took up the tale. ‘By sheer good fortune one of my men overheard two of the conspirators. Bloodcurdling it was, he said. Everyone of us to be killed; no quarter; dead men tell no tales. Then you and Mademoiselle de Beauharnais were to be held hostage for Napoleon's pardon. There was no time to be lost, sir, you must see that. Last night, it was to have been. This was the only place we had a chance of holding out!'

‘And who were these two dangerous conspirators?' asked Joseph. And then, ‘But I am forgetting. Hals!' He had seen the baron, looking miserable, at the back of the crowd. ‘Arrange a carriage for Lady Cristabel at once. Her husband has
just died; she needs to be at home.' Taking obedience for granted, he turned back to the French officer. ‘The conspirators' names?'

‘Two prominent citizens of Brundt, sir. Frau Schmidt, who is some kind of connection of your brother's, I believe. We've got Prince Franz safe under guard, in case he's involved. And a Jew, Ishmael Brodski.'

‘I see.' He thought he was beginning to see a great deal. ‘And who is guarding Prince Gustav?' He turned to the officer who had been in charge at Gustavsberg.

‘My orders were just to come away, sir.' The man shuffled his feet.

Here was a complication Joseph had not thought of. What would Gustav do when he found himself free? But the conspirators at Brundt must have thought of this hazard; he must assume that they would have arranged for a Lissenberg guard to take over if the French should panic as they hoped. And as, amazingly, they had. At one overheard conversation between an old lady and a foreigner. But then the French must be accustomed to treachery and violence. And, he smiled to himself, Frau Schmidt and Ishmael Brodski were a formidable pair. He must play the hand they had dealt him for all it was worth. And, most important of all, he must keep the French officers occupied and give Cristabel time to find her messenger.

‘Orders given by you?' He barked the question at the man from Brundt, the senior of the three officers.

‘There was not a moment to be lost. We've got the palace well guarded, sir, but I reckon they won't try anything now they've lost the element of surprise.'