Imogen Robertson - Circle of Shadows

Harriet raised her head. ‘Oh, Crowther, that’s just it. You see it, don’t you? It is not just revenge. I’m certain that poor woman is dead, and some madman is trying to bring her back.’

Harriet was very quiet as they made their way out of the palace. She was a still point amongst the frenzy of excitement around her. It seemed the Duchess’s arrival was imminent and the city was putting on a brave display for her. The stands were filled with the nobility, all splendid in blue and gold. Along the lower ranks of the stands were a large number of ladies and gentlemen visiting from other courts and therefore not in the Duke’s own colours; they provided an ornamental border to the stands.

The women were in coloured and embroidered silks, their hair worked high, and the faces in the stands, male and female, were all powdered and rouged after the French fashion. Harriet, glancing up, was reminded of a display of porcelain dolls in Pulborough. On a whim she had bought the least unfriendly-looking of the display for Anne. Her daughter had seemed delighted with the present, but treated the doll with a sort of superstitious awe. Her rag doll was dragged about with her wherever she went, while this porcelain monstrosity was named Margaret, at Crowther’s suggestion, and placed high over the nursery. Anne and her rag doll occasionally brought it interesting pieces of gravel and set them at its feet like nervous worshippers before an idol.

There was a small stage at the centre of the square with a pair of high-backed, throne-like chairs on it, a cluster of less impressive seats in front of it and a small reading lectern. A number of musicians were being given some last-minute rehearsals from the court composer.

Every other available space in the square and throughout the gardens leading up to the palace itself was filled with the citizenry of Maulberg. All were in their best and jockeying for position in a good-humoured fashion. Whatever rumours might be flying around about the sudden spate of illnesses among the members of court, the atmosphere was of expectant good cheer. There was a stir in the mass of people at the front of the palace and a group of horsemen began to clear a way down the central path. An open carriage painted in silver and red drew up in front of the central portico. The Duke emerged and stepped inside accompanied by three visiting Princes all in blue military uniforms.

They began to make their way down through the gardens and the people started to cheer. The Duke raised his hand and waved. The trumpeters on the dais struck up a fanfare.

‘There he is!’ Harriet exclaimed, and for a moment Crowther thought his companion had been caught up in the excitement of the moment, but he found that rather than pointing at the Duke, she was pointing at a young man with red hair and a slightly dirty coat on the edge of the crowd, some twenty yards from them. They jostled their way over and Harriet put a hand on his sleeve.

‘Mrs Westerman!’ he said with a grin. ‘I’ve come to see the fun. So glad to hear Mr Clode is out of the hole. Saw Mr Graves up at the village this morning.’

‘Julius, have you made something recently with a design on it, a little like the Star of David, but with words, letters on it.’

‘You mean the Djinn bottle? That was about a year and a half ago.’

The crowd around them roared, so Harriet had to raise her voice.

‘The Djinn bottle? Why do you call it that?’

‘Well, the design you mentioned is a bit like one of the Seals of Solomon. You know when he built the Temple in Jerusalem he was supposed to have used enslaved spirits to help him. Then he sealed them in brass vessels, and the Templars found them during the Crusades … then ran off with them to become Freemasons in Scotland. Or was that the Holy Grail?’ He was straining on his tiptoes to see over the crowd. ‘Ooh look, the Duchess’s coach is coming!’ A fresh blare of trumpets rang out. A coach built more for show than travel and all in gold was drawing up to the stage. The horses all wore golden plumes that must have made them the envy of some of the women in the stands. Around them, everyone had a handkerchief in the air and was waving it furiously.

‘What was it?’ Harriet said, tugging on Julius’s sleeve.

‘Just a large brass bowl, with a domed cover. The whole thing looked like an ostrich egg, with that design repeated on it round the edge. Fits together very neatly. The engraving took forever. Ahh, here she comes.’

The door to the golden carriage had opened and the steps were let down. A thin figure in blue and gold appeared and the cheering increased in volume. ‘Oh, that’s a nice touch — look, she is bending down to kiss the ground of Maulberg, and wearing our colours.’ The crowd seemed to agree. The roar and cheers reached a feverish clamour. The Duke stepped forward and took his bride’s hand to lead her to the stage.

‘Who commissioned it?’ Crowther bawled in Julius’s ear.

‘Eh what?’

‘The Djinn bottle! Who commissioned it?’

‘No idea. It all came through one of the footmen at the palace … Wimpf. Peculiar job, but I was well paid for it.’

The Duke led his bride to one of the thrones and took his seat beside her, still lightly holding her hand. She looked so young. The three Princes who had come with the Duke, and a number of other dignitaries who had emerged from the retinue of the golden coach also took their places on the dais, and a young man was ushered up to give a speech. A hush fell, and the man began to speak in Latin.

‘Top scholar at the Leuchtenstadt, that lad,’ Julius said to them, and tucked his thumbs into his waistcoat. ‘What a great honour. He’ll have a medal to show his grandchildren. After the recitation they will sign the marriage certificate then return to the palace for the gala. There is to be a public feast here too, you know. A lion’s head pouring wine. Three roast oxen.’

Harriet was turning away when she felt a touch on her arm. ‘Michaels! I am glad to see you.’

He nodded. ‘Happy to find you in this crowd, Mrs Westerman, Mr Crowther. I have been looking for Mrs Padfield, but she is not at home. Do you know where I might find her?’

Julius turned away from the scene for a moment. ‘Good to see you, Michaels. She is in the stands there with all the court ladies fluttering their fans at the new Duchess. You’d do best to wait for her back at their home. They will all have to change their dresses again for the gala.’ Michaels shoved his hands into his pockets and looked grim. Harriet began to move to the edge of the crowd and Michaels and Crowther followed her.

They walked until they could find space enough to speak. ‘What news, Michaels?’ Harriet asked quietly. ‘We heard from Graves that the girl is dead.’

‘Been in the ground a good long time,’ he answered. A couple of young men jogged past them towards the crowd, singing as they went. Michaels watched them pass before continuing, ‘No sign of Kupfel’s papers, or her book of odds and ends. She was buried near a waterfall between Oberbach and a nasty little place called Mittelbach.’

‘You are sure it is her?’ Harriet asked. The crowd behind them gave a great roar of approval; it rolled and rocked between the buildings.

‘I’m sure.’

‘My congratulations on finding her,’ Crowther said quietly. ‘How did she die?’

‘It was luck, is all. As to her death, the back of her head was smashed. Strong arm and a rock, I think.’ There was another cheer and the crowd began to applaud. The air crackled and boomed with the sound of a volley of gunfire.

‘The military salute,’ Harriet said, glancing over her shoulder. ‘The marriage contract is signed. Who owns land in that area, Michaels? What are the important houses? Did you hear the name of Kastner?’