Виктория Холт - The Judas kiss

"This is monstrous. My money did not come from my grandfather but from my grandmother. I had nothing to do with his death."

"I have my friends there. I know exactly what happened. He threatened to turn you out and that very night he died—mysteriously. Oh, I know nothing was proved against you, but suspicion was strong, wasn't it? He was in a burning room which did not burn quite long enough to destroy the evidence. You were not going to make that mistake twice. You made sure that the evidence in the case of our poor Countess was completely destroyed."

"You are talking wild nonsense. I loved the Countess. She and I were the best of friends."

"Do you think I don't know how much you wanted to get rid of her? You are an ambitious woman, Fraulein. You thought if she were not there—if Baron Sigmund were free from his contract with her—you would reign as Grand Duchess of Bruxenstein."

I stared at her aghast and she laughed bitterly.

"I know of those meetings," she went on. "I know of that tender little romance... ."

I was afraid now. I could see it all fitting neatly together. I was reminded of the horror of those weeks at Greystone Manor when I had been under suspicion. I looked into Tatiana's malicious face and I felt the net closing round me.

It was true that if Freya were no more, I had a chance of marrying Conrad. But how monstrous that Tatiana could make such a suggestion! And yet when I looked at the evidence against me, I saw that I was in acute peril.

Conrad would believe in me, I was sure. I must see him. He would surely come now that this terrible thing had happened to Freya.

I could not think clearly. I could only try to fight off this terrible numbness, this sense of impending doom which had possessed me.

"You have been clever up to a point," Tatiana was saying. "But not clever enough. You were too trusting in some quarters. You came here because your sister came. You thought you would follow in her footsteps but more successfully. You were going to try to prove that she was actually married to Baron Rudolph. I suppose you thought that would give you some standing."

"She was married to Rudolph," I said.

She snapped her fingers at me. "You fool!" she cried. "Who do you think wanted Rudolph out of the way if it was not Sigmund and his friends? Sigmund has been too clever for you. He has told me of your cloying sentiment. I know of your affair with him, of course. He found it so amusing and he had to know exactly what you were doing. 'So easy,' he said, 'to lead the Fraulein to great expectations and to discover what she was doing at the same time. She is shrewd enough ... but she has her weaknesses and I found them.'"

"I don't believe you."

"No. That was your weakness. Too gullible. But we are not here to talk about your amorous adventure with Sigmund. That is of no importance to him or to this case. You thought he would marry you when Freya was disposed of. Unfortunately for you, Sigmund was not what you thought —and in any case we knew too much about you. You cannot play the same trick twice."

"This is a nightmare... ."

"Think what it must have been like for poor Countess Freya."

I covered my face with my hands. The loss of my dear little friend ... the knowledge that I was discovered to be Francine's sister ... the hints about Conrad which I did not believe ... the terrible danger in which I stood—it was all becoming unbearable.

"You are under arrest," said Tatiana. "Accused of the murder of Countess Freya."

"I want to see—"

"Yes?" she mocked. "Whom do you want to see? Baron Sigmund is not here. Nor would he wish to see you if he were. Is there anyone else you would like to see—if you were permitted to do so?"

I thought of Hans, but I did not want to implicate him. The Graf was his employer. I thought of Daisy. But she was too close to Hans. Who else was there?

She was smiling at me contemptuously. "Do not search your mind," she said. "Save yourself the trouble, for it would not be permitted. Put a few things together. I am removing you from here for your own safety. When it is generally known that the Countess Freya has been murdered and by whom and for what reason, the people will not leave you to the justice of the land. They will take the law into their own hands. It could be that Kollenitz will demand that you be delivered to them. I would not be in your shoes then, Fraulein Ewell."

I cried out, "I am innocent of what you accuse me, I loved her, I tell you. I would not have harmed her for anything on earth."

"Get a few things together. My parents agree that we should get you away to a place of safety until you stand trial. Hurry. There is little time."

She went to the door and turned to look back at me maliciously.

"Be ready in ten minutes," she said.

The door shut and I sank back into a chair. This was indeed a nightmare. I must be dreaming. Not only was Freya dead, but I was accused of her murder.

Within half an hour I was riding out of the town with a company of guards. People stood about in little groups near the schloss, talking in whispers. There was a hushed atmosphere in the streets. I could smell the smoke in the air. I looked back at the schloss. The scarred wall stood out strongly in the sunlight.

We left the town behind us and came to the forest. We passed near the Marmorsaal and went on. We crossed the river and started to climb. It was about mid-morning when we came to the Klingen Rock. I remembered it from one of my rides with Freya, when she had told me the story of the Rock and the small schloss which stood near the mountain-top.

Prisoners had been kept here in the old days, and when they were condemned to death they were often given the choice of throwing themselves down from the Rock into the gorge below instead of facing execution.

I think I must have been in a state of shock because I could not quite grasp what was happening to me. Yesterday I had been free to ride through the forest, to go to my lover... . Now here I was, a prisoner—falsely accused of murdering one I had loved.

I had lost my dear Freya—a tragedy in any circumstances, but in this way ... I could not grasp the magnitude of what had happened. The loss of a dear one, the terrible suspicion that had come to me and my vulnerability to face the dangers which surrounded me.

We were climbing a rough road cut into the mountainside and at length came to a gate, which was opened by a rough-looking man who regarded me steadily from under shaggy brows.

"This the prisoner then," he said. And then to me: "Get down then. We've not got all night."

I dismounted and he took my horse from me, examining it, I noticed, with a keen eye. A woman appeared.

"Here she is, Marta," he said.

The woman took my arm roughly and peered into my face. I was dismayed by her hard, even cruel expression.

"Zigeuner!" she called, and a cowed-looking boy in ragged garments came running out.

"Take her up," said the woman. "Show her where she's lodged."

I followed the boy into the stone-floored hall and he pointed to a spiral staircase at one end of it. The stone steps were steep and the banister was a rough rope.

"This way," he said.

"Thank you," I answered and he looked surprised.

We went up for a long way, round and round until we reached the top of a tower. He threw open the door and I saw a small room which contained a pallet bed, a jug and basin on a rickety table, and a stool.

He looked at me helplessly.

"Is this ... all I have?" I asked.

He nodded. He had taken the key out of the door on the inside. "I've got to lock you in," he said with a wan smile. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault. Do you work here?"

He nodded again.

"What's your name?"

"They call me Zig because I'm from the gypsies. I was lost and came here. It was more than a year ago. I've been here ever since."