The Shadow of Albion (51 page)

came – I gave her my locket, and she said she would send me to Louis – or save

him. I do not know which, Lord Koscuisko, and now thephonka is gone, and what

am I to do? Why should everyone I love suffer because of me?“

„Be quiet,“ Wessex said sharply. „The bad bargain you made with the fairy

woman hardly matters. We are going into the chateau – a matter in which you can be

of some aid. As for your Louis, rest assured, Lady Meriel, that if he is there I will

rescue him. Pretender or King, I would leave no man to the Black Priest’s mercies.“

Sarah stared into the barrel of the gun, transfixed with horror. Geoffrey Highclere

smiled.

Louis stepped in front of her.

„I have spent all my life learning what it is to be a valuable pawn, M’sieur

Highclere. I do not think that M’sieur Talleyrand will thank you for shooting me.

Run, Sarah.“

The last words were uttered in such a conversational tone that both his listeners

nearly missed them. Of the two, Sarah reacted first. She turned and ran.

Every fiber of her being rebelled against deserting Louis, but to do so was the

only weapon Sarah had. Louis had been right – Mr. Highclere dare not kill him. And

so long as Sarah lived, and was free, there would be another chance for her to

rescue him.

Behind her she could hear Mr. Highclere roaring for help. The corridor she ran

down was unfamiliar, leading her away from the staircase to the first floor. She heard

shouts as me house was roused; she had only seconds to find a haven.

She jerked open a door and found a narrow staircase leading bodi up and down.

The servants’ stair. When she closed the door behind her even the dim glimmers of

light from the hall were gone. Sarah hesitated only a moment before stepping into the

darkness of me downward steps.

But when she reached the next landing, the doorway was bricked over; she could

feel me new rough patch of brick, colder than the old plaster that surrounded it

There was no escape from the stairs into the ground floor.

And from above she saw a gleam of light shining upon the wall. Someone had

opened the door to the hallway.

Noiselessly, Sarah fled further into the dark.

Illya Koscuisko saluted gaily and turned the grey aside. The sky was light enough

that the animal seemed to glow, though not as supernaturally as the phouka had

done.

„Where is he going?“ Meriel asked. She was still bundled in the Hussar’s pelisse,

and Wessex had taken her up before him on his horse.

„To make a diversion, to find another way in, to secure our exit,“ Wessex said

dismissively. „Or to be shot, if our friend Talleyrand’s notion of order extends to

posting any sort of guard.“

„I am sorry for all the trouble I have caused you,“ Meriel said diffidently.

„You may be sorry for it later with my good will, assuming we both live through

the next few hours. I have no intention of leaving my wife in Talleyrand’s hands.“

„Do you care for her, then?“ Meriel asked. „Because she did not think that you

did – and when Geoffrey said he would hold her hostage for your behavior, she did

not think it would answer.“

„Woman“ Wessex groaned eloquently. „Listen here, my little adventuress: I am

about to present myself at Chateau Roissy in the guise of one of the Red Jacks who

has just come, from tidying up the business in Trois Vierges – which is to say, you.

In all likelihood, you and I shall be shot at once. If we are not, perhaps we can do

something in the way of rescuing the prisoners. All of this is of quite enormous

concern to me – a concern so great that somehow I cannot summon up the energy

to discuss my marriage. Do you quite take my meaning?“

Meriel turned her back to him as best she could in her awkward position, her back

poker-straight.

The stairs curved sharply around as they descended, the narrow staircase

becoming narrower still until Sarah’s shoulders brushed against the wall on both

sides. She had left both plaster and brick behind – ’here the walls were of

close-fitting stone, beaded with icy moisture from beneath the ground. Even the

steps were wet and slimy, so that if she had not been barefoot, she would have

slipped and fallen a dozen times.

She stopped in the darkness listening. Whoever had come to the stairs to look for

her had not bothered to come all the way to the bottom. She waited a few more

minutes, then crept slowly through the darkness back up to the first-floor door. A

thin line of light shone from beneath it, making Sarah hesitate. If she opened that

door, she might be walking directly into an ambush. Cautiously, she drew back,

continuing on up the stairs.

No light shone beneath the door on the second floor. Slowly Sarah eased the

door open. Darkness, and an unfamiliar hallway. For the moment she’d eluded her

pursuers.

She crossed to a window and pulled back the curtain. It was just dawn; the light

was grey and the grass was silver with morning dew. There was no escape in this

direction: the window gave onto a two-storey drop onto flagstones, and there was

no way for her to climb down.

Someone was riding up the drive. She looked – then stared.

It was the Duke of Wessex. And Meriel was riding with him.

She must attract his attention! Sarah tapped at the window, then realized Wessex

could not hear the faint sound. After an instant’s thought, she balled her fist up in a

fold of her dress and struck the glass with all her might Tinkling fragments showered

out into the cold morning air.

Wessex looked up. Sarah pressed her face to one of the unbroken panes, hoping

he would see her.

He stopped – and then swung himself and Meriel down from the horse’s back,

disappearing into the ornamental shrubbery near the chateau. He had seen.

What to do now? Sarah stared around wildly. She must find some way to get

Wessex inside – but the lower floors of the chateau were filled with armed soldiers.

Then I must go up.

A few minutes’ search found the stairs that led to the higher floors, and once on a

higher level, Sarah squirmed out through a window and stepped onto the roof.

The slates beneath her feet were cold and wet; as smooth as glass. Her

stockinged toes curled around the wet slates, seeking purchase, as she clutched at a

chimney top for support The countryside stretched out far below her, as tiny and

unreal as a toy. Where was Wessex?

There was someone else on the roof with her; Sarah could hear scrabbling as

someone clambered over the slippery slates. Sarah temporarily abandoned her

search for Wessex and went in search of the intruder.

He was clean shaven and dressed in an unfamiliar green military uniform, his hair

dyed an unnatural yellow. At the flutter of her dress in the morning breeze, he

glanced up.

„Ah… the Duchess of Wessex, I presume?“ Illya Kosciusko said.

A few moments later all of them were standing in the small room that Sarah had

originally used as her egress onto the roof. She’d hugged Meriel, and assured the girl

that Louis was indeed here, alive, and well – though Geoffrey Highclere’s prisoner at

the moment „Though I do not think Mr. Highclere will shoot him. He is waiting for

Talleyrand to return from Paris – after that, I do not know what will happen.“

„And before that, we will be gone,“ Wessex announced. „Sarah, you and Meriel

go with Koscuisko, and – “

„No.“ Sarah’s refusal was flat and unequivocal. „I’m not going to be whisked out

of sight and out of trouble and leave you here to die. It will take all of us to save

Louis. And there is something I must tell you, Your Grace – but not right now.“

„I am relieved to hear it,“ Wessex said dourly. He looked at Koscuisko and

shrugged. „As you wish, Duchess. We shall confound the enemy together. Places,

then, ladies and gentleman. The show is about to begin.“

* * *

 „I hope you will find your new accommodations… suitable, Your Majesty,“

Geoffrey Highclere sneered. He swung the barred door closed and thrust the iron

bar through the slots.

He hadn’t dared risk a shot at the Duchess with Louis blocking the way: his life

wouldn’t be worth a lead sovereign if the Black Priest returned to discover that

Geoffrey had executed the King of France. His shouts had brought reinforcements,

however, and he’d sent the chausseurs off after the damnable Duchess, with orders

to turn the chateau inside out until they found her. Geoffrey wasn’t sure how she’d

escaped, but he had no intention of allowing Louis to duplicate the Duchess’s trick.

He had brought Louis down to the lowest level of the ancient part of the castle. In

medieval times, the Due whose castle this had been had kept prisoners here; his

descendants had found better use for the space as a wine cellar. But this section of

the old dungeons was too damp for the convenient storage of casks and the wooden

racks upon which bottles of fine vintage might repose. So this archaic dungeon had

been left very much alone, much to its current owner’s delight. Upon occasion,

Talleyrand had cause to make use of this most unhealthy place, and in his absence,

Geoffrey Highclere had felt it would be just the thing to cow – and secure – an

unruly captive.

„I will find my accommodations familiar, at any rate,“ Louis retorted. „Take care

that I do not take a chill upon the lungs and expire before you can make use of me.“

Louis retreated to the far corner of the cell, and kicked disgustedly at the moldy

straw that lay in stinking, slimy piles upon the damp stone floor. „I console myself

with the knowledge that whatever my fate, the Duchess has won her freedom.“

„Not for long,“ Geoffrey snarled. „And once I have her back, I shall see which of

these antiques can be rendered serviceable once more.“

It was’a fine line to exit upon, but Geoffrey had taken Louis’s words to heart

also, and so he spent a further few minutes lighting the cressets in the iron baskets

upon the walls, and lighting the coals in the braziers.

Louis stood at the back of, his cell until he heard Highclere’s footsteps fade from

hearing, then came forward to examine the door. The bottom half of the barrier was

iron-sheathed wood, with a slot in it for a tray. The top half was open, secured by

iron bars as thick as a strong man’s thumb. Leaning against the bars, Louis gazed

out at an identical row of cells opposite him. The air stank of damp, burning coals,

and rotting straw. With gallows humor, Louis wondered whether he could manage to

sicken and die before Bonaparte’s First Minister returned to question him.

He hoped the Duchess had gained her freedom.

There was a sound, but not from the stairs that Highclere had so lately ascended.

Ah, Mon Dieu, let there not be rats….

It had been a stroke of luck to overhear Mr. Highclere explaining where he had

put Louis, for Sarah had a very good idea that the curving stairs she had tried before

must be a back way into the dungeon. She had tried to lead Wessex and Meriel

along them, but soon the stairs had narrowed so much that Wessex could not pass.

He had told them to go on while he sought for another way and returned up the

stairs, leaving Sarah and Meriel the candle to light their way.

Soon the passageway narrowed even further, so that the two women had to inch

along it sideways, and Sarah began to fear that the stone walls would narrow to the

point that she and Meriel were trapped. The candleflame danced wildly in the cold

draft blowing up from below, and Sarah reluctantly passed the taper back to Meriel

for safekeeping, for if it blew out they had no way to relight it.

The passage was so narrow that Sarah could not reach across herself to pass the

candle back; instead she stretched both hands up over her head and Meriel did the

same, passing the burning taper over their heads. She felt Meriel's fingers glide over

hers and seize the candle firmly. Sarah released it and lowered her arms.

And a sudden gust of air snuffed the flickering taper before Meriel could lower it

to safety.

„Pray pay it no mind,“ Sarah said, as soothingly as she could manage in the

sudden darkness. „It is not as if we are likely to lose our way.“

Meriel produced a shaky giggle, though Sarah could feel the girl trembling with

both cold and fear. „This will teach me, I suppose, to make pacts with the Fair

Ones,“ Meriel said aloud.

„Well, at least you are here,“ Sarah offered, though she could think of no good

reason that anyone in their right mind would wish to be here. The darkness was so