Imogen Robertson - Circle of Shadows

‘So the killer might have taken something more than blood?’

‘Perhaps.’

Harriet rapped her fingers on the veneer of her desk. ‘Could you make out the shape of the ring?’

‘Thicker than your band.’

‘I wonder if the Duke will see me,’ Harriet murmured. Crowther had raised his eyebrows at her. ‘He was often in company with Dieth. Perhaps he remembers it, and in any case I have the desire to know our host better.’

‘Be careful, madam.’

‘There is food in the parlour, Crowther. Eat.’

Harriet was forced to wait some minutes in the anteroom and was wondering if perhaps she was wasting her time, given the number of gentlemen in court dress who also seemed to be waiting to see their sovereign, but it was not long before the door to the Duke’s study was opened again, and a gentleman almost smothered by the splendour of his cravat beckoned her inside.

Though the room in which she found herself was far too grand for anyone but an Absolute Ruler to call it a study, it was a far more domestic space than any other she had seen in the palace. The colours were the brown and green of leather volumes, and the space was broken up with small groups of chairs and tables. The Duke was bent over his desk while Swann hovered behind him, placing one document after another in front of him for signature. Christoph Ludwig looked up as she entered, then beckoned her forward. She heard a movement behind her and saw that Manzerotti was present, curled in the armchair like a cat. She remembered the Duke’s request for music as he worked the previous day and wondered if Manzerotti had been required to serenade his present patron’s signatures.

‘Mrs Westerman!’ the Duke greeted her. ‘I thought you would be on your way to Castle Grenzhow by this time.’

‘My sister and Mr Graves have left to collect Mr Clode.’

The Duke did not look up. ‘I feel like a pharaoh in Egypt, such a plague seems to have struck my advisers. I hope that releasing Clode will lift the curse. Did she suffer?’

‘I am sorry to say it, sire. But yes, she did.’

The Duke was silent, staring at the page in front of him. He was absolutely still for some moments, then, as if he had been suddenly reanimated, lifted his head.

‘Ah, here is an uncomfortable case, Mrs Westerman. I’d be delighted to have your opinion on it.’ Harriet wondered, not for the first time, if she should have listened to Crowther. ‘A young woman is accused of killing her husband. From the accounts the lawyers have prepared it sounds rather as if he deserved it. He was a known drunk, a bully, and she was often seen bruised in the village.’

‘What does she say, Your Highness?’

‘That he was beating her, she used her cooking pot to defend herself, and down he went.’

‘Your subjects surely have the right to defend themselves against attack.’

‘That depends on who is attacking them, Mrs Westerman. A man rules his wife, as I rule my people. If the people disagreed with the way I ruled them, would you say they had the right to rise up against me?’

‘You, sire, are neither a drunk nor a bully.’

‘You are a loss to your diplomatic service, Mrs Westerman.’ Harriet smiled, wondering with what disbelief her husband would have heard that opinion. She thought of Manzerotti behind her and touched her mourning ring again like a talisman. ‘The District Officer of the area — not Krall, my dear, I have thirty-four — the Law Faculty at Leuchtenstadt and my Privy Council all recommend execution. Surely if I only imprison her for a year or two that will be seen as weakness on my part?’

‘Mercy, sire.’

He blinked at her. ‘Swann, the lovely Mrs Westerman recommends mercy. Is your heart still of stone?’

Harriet saw a flash of irritation cross Swann’s face. ‘A crime against a husband is a manner of treason, sire. If you will be merciful, do not agree to her breaking on the wheel, but she must certainly die.’

The Duke smiled lazily. ‘One would think after all these years, Swann, you would have learned not to say “must” to me. We have failed to protect our friend Countess Dieth, so this is our penance. We will be merciful to this girl. A compliment to the fairer sex. An indulgence.’

He passed the paper back to Swann unsigned then pushed himself away from the desk a little.

‘The gentleman at the door said you have something to ask me, Mrs Westerman. Ask it.’

‘Thank you. Did Countess Dieth wear a ring, sire? There seemed to be a mark left on her hand to show she did, but there is no sign of it.’

He frowned briefly. ‘She did, a sort of signet ring engraved with an owl. I never saw her without it. How strange that it is missing.’ His long-fingered hands went to his neck. ‘Lady Martesen also had a similar device — a jewel she wore at her neck. Swanny, do you remember?’

‘No, sire.’

‘I teased her about it when I first saw it. They were cousins, you know. I asked them if it was some family emblem.’

Harriet heard a stir of silk behind her as Manzerotti shifted in his seat. ‘Did she explain it at all?’

‘I don’t remember. It made her blush, you see, Mrs Westerman, when I asked, and Aggie always looked so beautiful when she blushed.’ His smile faded and he put up his hand to take another paper from Swann. The Chancellor did not notice for a moment, and it was not until the Duke had clicked his fingers that a fresh sheet was offered to him. The Duke began to read.

‘Your Highness?’

‘Yes, madam?’

‘Might these attacks be aimed at you, sir? This loss of people … of importance to you.’

He put down his paper and watched her for a few moments. ‘If an assassin can kill Countess Dieth, he could kill me. He has not done so. Therefore I am not a target. No one in court, other than myself, is ever indispensable, but in two days Maulberg will be more secure than it has been for years, and in all likelihood better advised. Do not bridle, Swanny, you know I think the world of you, but we need fresh blood, fresh thinking.’

Harriet dropped her eyes and curtsied.

‘Thank you, Mrs Westerman. Glance to your right as you leave. There is a little Caravaggio of St Catherine there of which I am quite fond. Find who is responsible for the deaths of the women, and it is yours.’

The doors were opened for her, and she paused in the anteroom for a moment, realising her breathing was uncomfortably rapid. She wondered if the Duke had been teasing her when he called her a diplomat. She had just lifted her chin again when the door behind her opened and closed once more and Chancellor Swann emerged. Without preamble he took hold of her elbow and led her into a quieter corner of the room. The waiting gentlemen harrumphed into their collars and stared about them.

‘Chancellor Swann?’

‘Krall has spoken to me of the Major,’ he said simply. Harriet looked up into his face; he seemed to have aged in the last days. There were shadows under his eyes, and they flicked from side to side as he spoke. ‘It is my habit to take a walk in the garden between the hours of four and five o’clock. Perhaps you and Mr Crowther would like to meet me there.’

His manner surprised her, but she nodded. ‘Certainly, Chancellor.’

He hesitated as if about to say something more, then retreated once again into the Duke’s audience chamber.

Harriet found that Crowther had taken her advice, had served himself from the warming plates and begun to eat. He had been joined by Krall. The contrast between the two men made her smile. Crowther took no pleasure in his food, and whatever was put in front of him seemed to regard it as a necessary inconvenience. Krall had filled his plate and was busy trying to empty it again. Harriet waved them back to their seats as she entered. Crowther looked at her, but she only slightly shook her head. Krall had already returned to his food.