The Laws of Magic 6: Hour of Need (24 page)

The magical connection, at times, acted as a conduit. In their past encounters, Aubrey had been able to sense aspects of Dr Tremaine, vague impressions of memories and thoughts, but this time all he could feel was an apprehension that he could only interpret as excitement tinged with anticipation.

Captain Robinson came striding along the trench, all enthusiasm and brio, oblivious to the shelling around them. He was speaking, but pointlessly for his words had no chance of being heard. His gestures, however, made his unheard words clear: everyone was to get ready for an advance.

Aubrey couldn’t believe it, but by the time this had registered Captain Robinson was yards away, continuing his job of rallying the troops.

It was easy to see how it had happened. The artillery barrage summoned by Colonel Stanley had clearly been interpreted as the prelude for an advance. Commendable initiative, in this time of erratic communications, but entirely misplaced in this instance.

‘Wait here,’ he said to Caroline, miming his request with both hands, but he was left foolishly gesturing because at that moment the artillery barrage stopped.

The result wasn’t silence because the earth was still settling, protesting at the indignities inflicted upon it, dirt still falling like hail.

A commander’s whistle sounded. Aubrey’s abused ears took a moment to work out that it came from off to his right, in the direction that Captain Robinson had gone. He sprinted in that direction, lurching from one side of the trench as his body did its best to propel him forward with the objective of stopping the poorly timed advance. If Robinson’s men pushed forward by themselves, it could be a disaster. Aubrey needed to warn them, to get the captain to fall back. He didn’t want his plan to be the cause of needless deaths.

Men were scrambling up the sides of the trench, rifles in hand, shouting encouragement to each other and, more chillingly, wordless battle cries. Aubrey swarmed after them and stood for a moment on the other side of the parapet, trying to find Captain Robinson while simultaneously being stunned by how the landscape had been transformed.

It was as if the old no-man’s-land had been stripped away and a totally new one dropped in its place – one that took the essence of the original no-man’s-land and distilled it, creating a place that had all the horror of the old, but intensified a thousandfold. This new no-man’s-land had been made by a madman, one who was entranced by smoking craters and desolation. Aubrey was sickened to think that might be a glimpse of where war was heading.

Robinson’s men were charging. Their bayonets were fixed. In a ragged line, they advanced toward the Holmland trenches, thankfully meeting no resistance.

Aubrey tried to spy the officer, but at that moment a single shot came from the Holmland trenches. Aubrey pitched backward and felt himself falling slowly, dreamily. All his plans, thoughts and hopes ran away, no matter how he tried to clutch them, and then everything else did as well.

M
AGIC
, A
UBREY THOUGHT, IT MUST BE MAGIC
.

One instant he’d been standing on the edge of an Albion trench – rather foolishly, now he thought about it – and the next he was lying in a very comfortable bed in what looked like a Gallian chateau.

Extraordinary.

The bed was one of the old-fashioned four-poster type, with heavy drapes and canopy of blue velvet. He’d never liked the style, finding them dusty, but he was willing to concede that it was considerably superior to the frontline trenches. The lack of gunfire was a particular improvement.

In a comfortable stupor, he allowed his gaze to roam around a room that was the sort of gilt and plaster confection that made him think of wedding cakes. Rather too many cherubs cavorted about the cornices for his liking, but it was clean and warm. The tall windows, with more blue velvet drapes, showed him glimpses of trees that hadn’t been shattered by shell fire.

So I’m definitely not in no-man’s-land.

A formidable woman was sitting on a gilt chair not far from the bed. Aubrey decided that unless she had a penchant for wearing uniforms with red crosses all over, she was probably a nurse. She was studying him carefully and looked as if she were just dying for an opportunity to lunge at him and thrust a thermometer into his mouth.

She confounded this by shaking her head, then getting up and leaving the room. This was, Aubrey decided, very un-nurselike behaviour. His view of nursely behaviour – formed by close reading of
Nurse Lily’s Adventures
, a romance book George had lent him – was that a real nurse would be tending him solicitously, gazing into his eyes while resting a comforting hand on his forehead. Either that or ramming a needle into his arm while lecturing him about the virtues of carbolic soap.

The door opened. Caroline entered, in uniform, and Aubrey felt as if he’d won a lottery. George and Sophie were close behind, and they were equally spruce.

Caroline stopped by the bedside. ‘Nurse Lucas told us you were awake.’

Aubrey sat up and considered this. ‘Nurse Lucas? I knew she was no Nurse Lily.’ He shared a significant look with George.

‘We don’t have time for nonsense, Aubrey.’ Caroline sat on the edge of the bed. She rested a comforting hand on his forehead and he was overjoyed. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Well enough, I suppose, for someone who’s just been shot.’

‘Shot?’ George said. ‘I’m afraid not, old man.’

Aubrey felt his head for a bandage and found only hair. ‘I assumed …’

‘You were standing on the parapet of the trench, doing your best to be a target,’ Caroline said. ‘A mine exploded. Part of the trench collapsed. You fell in and hit your head on a crate of tinned peaches.’

‘Ah. Nothing heroic, then?’

‘You stopped the Holmland advance, Aubrey,’ Sophie said. ‘That is very heroic, no?’

‘They’ve pulled back?’

George cut in. ‘The Holmland front line is still being held, but most of their forces at Fremont have been pulled back.’

‘Wait.’ Aubrey looked at the window. Gardens and blue sky remained serene. ‘How long has it been?’

‘Not quite two days,’ Caroline said. Her reserve slipped a little. ‘You were quite undone by your spell casting.’

‘Holmland reports have been intercepted,’ George said. ‘They’re trumpeting the fact that the Chancellor has been at the front. They’re trying to make it into a propaganda coup.’

Caroline tapped him on the shoulder. ‘The file in your satchel, Aubrey, the one Hugo gave you. We handed it to General Apsley and his staff. The photographs have helped confirm that the Chancellor and the members of the Central Staff were on the Holmland front lines.’

Aubrey was relieved. The file had been important in his spell making, but he was glad it was continuing to be useful.

‘The best news is that the whole mobilisation at Fremont has stopped,’ Sophie said.

‘Forces were being devoted to keeping the Chancellor safe, I suspect,’ Aubrey said, relieved more than triumphant. ‘Until he was able to leave without appearing cowardly.’

‘Reinforcements have started arriving from Lutetia and Albion,’ Sophie said. ‘It doesn’t matter if the Holmlanders regroup now, we are ready for them.’

‘You bought time, Aubrey.’ Caroline patted his pyjamaed shoulder and left her hand there. He covered it with one of his.

‘And now it’s time to get me out of here,’ he said. ‘Wherever here is.’

‘We’re on the outskirts of Divodorum,’ Caroline said, ‘well away from the front.’

‘I venture that this isn’t a military hospital. How did I get here?’

‘That would be my doing,’ came a voice from the doorway.

Aubrey stared. ‘Bertie!’

Caroline, George and Sophie snapped to attention. Prince Albert made a face and closed the door behind him. ‘Oh, please don’t. Sit, all of you. I’ve had enough of that sort of thing this last week to last me a lifetime.’

Prince Albert was in the uniform of Colonel in Chief of the Crown Prince’s Light Infantry Regiment, his own. Aubrey thought the green went well with Bertie’s dark features, and his slimness set off the jacket very neatly.

The prince took off his cap and drew up a chair. He smiled at Sophie, after she and George had sat and Caroline had resumed her station on the bed. ‘Miss Delroy, is it not?’ he said in Gallian. ‘I have been following your exploits with great interest. Your piece in the latest
Sentinel
was excellent. It’s rallied Gallian spirits most splendidly.’

Sophie coloured delightfully and responded in the same language. ‘I do not know what to say, your highness.’ She paused and looked at George, switching to Albionish. ‘Your highness. Is that correct, George?’

The prince laughed. ‘“Bertie” is perfectly acceptable, Miss Delroy, at least in this room. I believe all four of you have earned the right to some familiarity, considering what you’ve achieved in the last few months.’ He frowned at Aubrey. ‘Now, Aubrey, malingering again?’

‘Just practising, Bertie, in case I ever need to infiltrate a Holmland military hospital. I’ll be up in a minute.’

‘That’s what I wanted to hear. I don’t want to pin a medal to your pyjamas. Most undignified.’

‘Medal?’

‘Apparently I have one for each of you, but they’ll probably have to wait, your mission’s being top secret and all that. For now, I want to hear everything.’

Aubrey and his friends looked at each other. ‘Where do we start?’ he said.

‘Start after the Stalsfrieden factory fire. I have reports of events after that, but they’re so spotty I could use them as a leopard suit. Fill in the details, if you would.’

Telling the heir to the thrones of Albion and Gallia about their adventures became so much like old times that Aubrey almost forgot where they were. Caroline, Sophie and George all butted in, correcting his account, taking over, handing it from one to the other and laughing at the prince’s astonishment. Sophie was hesitant to begin with but, heartened by the others, she even managed to groan at one of Prince Albert’s execrable puns about firearms and finding people of the right calibre.

The tone of the recounting became more sombre as they came to describing the events at the front, and Aubrey hoped that Bertie was taking this in. The front was no joking matter. The prince grew more and more angry when they described the hardships of the trenches, and Aubrey thought it was anger most well directed.

After Caroline narrated the last episode – sensibly, as Aubrey had no idea about how she’d dug him out of the collapsed trench, de-peached him and then organised a squad to carry him to medical aid – Bertie sat back, thinking.

‘You’ve done a fine thing, all of you. A touch reckless, Aubrey, but effective.’ He put his hands together. ‘I like to think our generals are a little more aware of what they’re sending our soldiers into than the Holmlanders, but am I deluding myself? Perhaps I should recommend that all members of our High Command must visit the front, and do so regularly. In fact, I’ve a mind to do so myself since I’m so close.’

‘Begging your pardon, Bertie,’ George said, ‘I don’t think you’d be let within ten miles of the front. You’re too valuable.’

The prince grimaced. ‘They do say that, don’t they? I had enough trouble getting this far.’

‘Which makes me ask,’ Aubrey said, ‘what exactly
are
you doing here, Bertie?’

‘I’m doing my bit.’ The prince hesitated and he turned his cap over in his hands a few times. ‘I wanted to do something, you see. Even figureheads can, was my thinking.’

‘You’re far from a figurehead.’ Aubrey knew how much work Bertie had done in the last few years. Ever since his father had grown incapable of fulfilling the role of king, Bertie had taken on many of his ceremonial roles as well as the tedious bureaucratic roles. Even though the public knew the King was ill, Aubrey was sure they had no idea how ill – thanks to Bertie’s work.

‘I appreciate that, Aubrey, but I decided a gesture or two could be important. So I decided to leave Trinovant and to rally the troops. And the alliance.’ He nodded to Sophie. ‘You’re aware that the alliance with Gallia has been coming under some pressure?’

‘It is true,’ Sophie said. ‘My father said that many people are unhappy about the war. They think that Albion is using Gallia as a wall to stop the Holmlanders. And there are others who are unhappy with the way we are governed. They want a king.’

‘Gallian royalists, in this day and age. I can’t believe it,’ Bertie said, without any hint of irony. He picked at the braid on his cap. ‘You forgot to mention the Gallians who are horrified by such a possibility.’

‘Gallia is used to political unrest,’ Sophie said, ‘but it is a bad time for such things.’

‘So you decided to shore up support with a goodwill tour,’ Aubrey said to Bertie.

‘A little more than that, actually.’ Prince Albert hesitated a little and straightened his tie before going on. ‘I took the Gallian Crown Jewels with me to Lutetia and reunited them with the Heart of Gold. After that I read an official document to the Gallian assembly, declining our claim to the vacant throne and promising that our family would never pursue it.’

Aubrey had survived a few bombshells in recent times, but he still hadn’t grown used to them. Especially not when dropped in his own bedroom.

Caroline recovered first. ‘And how was this received in Gallia?’

‘Barely restrained relief is the best way I’d describe it. As Miss Delroy noted, it’s a bad time to be arguing about such things. My quashing any possibility of an Albionite reclaiming the throne of Gallia was the best solution.’ He chuckled. ‘They held a banquet to commemorate this important occasion, but I think the unanticipated nature of my announcement caught them rather on the hop. They couldn’t find the state silver to serve the dinner on and had to borrow some ancient gold plate from the sisters at the Cathedral of Our Lady.’

Aubrey’s curiosity jabbed him. ‘The Gallian state silver is missing?’

‘Stolen, someone said, but the president told me that it had been sold. Silver prices have been going through the roof. He’d ordered that the state silver be sold and the proceeds put into the war effort, to show that the government was serious about sacrifice.’

‘Of course,’ Aubrey said, but another item was nagging at him. ‘And His Majesty, the King? What does he think of these developments?’

‘It was Father, of course, who thought this was the best course of action. He wanted to go with me, but the Privy Council advised against that in the strongest terms. When his doctors also spoke out, he subsided, reluctantly, and agreed when I said that I’d do it by myself. After he made up his mind, he was firm on it. Even when he took a turn for the worse, he insisted that I go.’

The state of King William’s health was of great concern to every Albionite – and every Albionite with close knowledge of his illness was always concerned with how much to tell the public. The war was an additional complicating factor. A strong leader was an advantage in wartime; a gravely ill one a handicap.

‘Prime Minister Giraud would have been happy at your announcement,’ Sophie said carefully. ‘He is a staunch republican.’

‘Indeed he is, Miss Delroy. His glee at my announcement was palpable.’

‘But what about the royalists who’ve been coming out of the woodwork?’ George said. ‘Sophie, you said your father was concerned about them.’

‘He was,’ she said. ‘Some of them have made troubles.’

‘As you say,’ Prince Albert said, ‘Gallia is accustomed to a level of unrest. I believe, and Prime Minister Giraud agrees, that the war against Holmland and its allies is far more important than a long-ago claim to a vanished throne. The royalists are patriots, after all. They will support the government in this time of crisis.’

‘Wait,’ Aubrey said. ‘You said something about the Gallian Crown Jewels. I’ve never heard about Gallian Crown Jewels.’

‘You’re not the only one who does research, Aubrey. I’ve been busy ever since your discovery of that awkward document suggesting my claim to the Gallian throne. After Dr Tremaine’s orchestrated announcement in Fisherberg, I’ve redoubled my efforts.’

‘And given employment to many researchers, no doubt.’

‘Hardly.’ Prince Albert drew himself up, mock seriously. ‘I rummaged about myself. Too sensitive, all this. I didn’t want people talking. No matter how loyal they may have been, a horde of researchers would, simply by their presence, cause gossip.’

‘Dusty work, researching,’ George said.

‘As I found, but I also found some interesting old books in libraries in various palaces about the country.’

‘Bertie, you do understand that you’re one of the few people in the world who can talk about more than one palace, don’t you?’

‘I’m aware of my position, Aubrey. It sometimes has benefits.’ The prince shrugged. ‘I’m sure that no-one has opened most of these books for years, centuries even, tucked away as they are.’

‘You could donate them to a library,’ Caroline suggested.

‘Or build a new one,’ George added.

‘A new library?’ Prince Albert considered this. ‘A capital thought. I’ll look into it, when this war is over.’