‘Angela?’ Wind asked. ‘Would you mind stepping out? If you could stay in the house, though, in case we get ourselves into a tangle?’
‘Certainly,’ she replied, and stood up. ‘Mr Volkov. Such a pleasure. Delighted to meet you. I do hope you settle down nicely here.’ She turned to the two Englishmen. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen making sandwiches if you need me. And,’ she said cocking her head as the doorbell rang, ‘answering the door for you. What a busy life you lead, Henry.’
When she had left the room, Volkov smiled and tapped the side of his head with an exaggerated gesture. ‘In here, my friends. In here, I have such secrets.’
‘Feel free to share some,’ Wind said.
They kept talking for an hour in a mixture of poor German and halting English, then took a break. Wind and Lytten left Volkov and retreated into Lytten’s dingy hallway.
‘Well?’ Lytten said, after Wind had gone quickly into the kitchen to see if he could get Angela to make him some tea. ‘What do you think?’
‘If what he says is true, then we have a major coup and everyone else has a major crisis. True or false, the best thing would be to pass this on to the Americans and let them get on with it. They’re in charge, after all,’ he said gloomily.
For an hour Wind had lounged on the armchair, looking slightly bored, occasionally interrupting with a vague or sarcastic question. For the most part, though, he had left the questioning to Lytten. But the moment the door of the sitting room had closed, the air of studied disinterest vanished, to be replaced by a thoughtful, alert look.
Calmly, giving details and dates, names and places, Volkov had blown the West’s strategic thinking out of the water. Everything, he said, was wrong. The Soviet Union was not far behind in the development of ballistic missiles, as was thought. The Soviet high command did not assume the West intended no hostile move. They were frightened and had decided to hit out first. All that was needed was to complete their preparations — complete, Volkov said; he was very insistent on this point. A few weeks, he said. In a few weeks’ time they would be ready.
‘Could the Americans have got it all so wrong?’ Lytten asked.
‘It wouldn’t be the first time,’ Wind said. ‘It can be checked, easily enough. It’s the rest which bothered me.’
Lytten could see his point. Once Angela had left the room, Volkov had leant forward in his chair. ‘There is a traitor among you,’ he said with a sly smile. ‘Do you want to know who it is? I can tell you.’
Then he had refused to say any more. Knowledge has its price, he had said. How much did they want to know? Make an offer, and then he would tell them all they needed. All in good time.
‘Do you think he’s a fake?’
‘Of course he’s a fake,’ Wind replied, although Lytten could hear the doubt in his voice. ‘Trying to get a nice pension off us. Trying to make us look ridiculous to the Americans. Or he’s a plant, a walking piece of disinformation.’
Wind looked suddenly haggard. ‘I’d better have him anyway. Cart him off and give him a good going over, and perhaps suggest to the Americans that we may have a problem of one sort or another. Either what Volkov says is true, which is catastrophic, or the Russians are playing a game which is so clever I can’t even understand the rules.’ He sighed. ‘Who was at the door?’
‘No idea.’
‘I’ll get my people ready to take Volkov away. I’ll call the van. I’ll tell Angela we won’t be wanting the tea after all.’
35
There are many ceremonies at Ossenfud, and Jay had taken part in a good proportion of them. For the dead time, the start of the year, the start and end of study each day, the arrival of food. Ceremonies for each season, and for the harvest. Each college had its own rituals and the town had still more.
But he had never witnessed anything quite as strange as the one he observed that day in Willdon. Shortly before noon Jay was summoned by a messenger and instructed to present himself at the entrance to the great courtyard. He took up his position just in time to see the huge doors leading into the grand chamber being thrown open. Henary was there already. A procession, gaudy and ostentatious, slowly emerged, consisting of all the people who lived and worked in the house, some of them carrying Lady Catherine on an elaborate gilt chair. Trumpets sounded, the watchers stamped their feet. It was, for Jay, a fascinating display of power and wealth, not least because Lady Catherine herself was dressed with all the magnificence of her position, covered in jewels from head to foot, wearing the richest garments imaginable and her finest wig.
They proceeded to the edge of the gardens, with Jay, Henary and many others following. Waiting for them was a small party, roughly dressed and looking decidedly uncomfortable and nervous. The jumpiest was a man carrying a large axe, who was dressed in brown working clothes, with heavy leather boots.
‘Who are you?’ he called out in a loud voice, once he had been elbowed in the ribs by a companion as a prompt.
The procession stopped and the golden chair was laid on the ground. Lady Catherine stood up and walked a few steps forward as her entourage fell back to make way for her.
‘I am Lady Catherine, Lord and Lady of the domain of Willdon by right, and I command your obedience.’ She spoke imperiously, disdainfully.
‘That is the wrong answer.’
Two of the other men with him stepped forward and began taking off the jewellery, starting with the huge tiara she wore on her head, then her necklaces, the encrusted belts, the rings on fingers and toes, until she wore no decoration at all. She stood there passively and allowed all this to happen. Each article was handed carefully to an attendant, who placed them carefully in a large wooden box.
‘Who are you?’ The question came again.
‘I am Lady Catherine of Willdon, and I demand your obedience.’
‘That is the wrong answer.’
Again the three men stepped forward, and this time started taking off the wig, the multi-coloured velvets and cloths which adorned her body, until she was standing in a simple dress.
‘Who are you?’ came the question for the third time.
‘I am Lady Catherine of Willdon.’
‘That is the wrong answer.’
For a third time the men stepped forward. They removed her dress, so that she was wearing only the least of undergarments. Then they pushed her down so she was kneeling on the bare ground, her head bowed.
‘No man or woman is above any man or woman. Three times you have denied this.’
The man with the axe, now trembling, stepped forward, carrying a length of leather. He walked up to her and, biting his lip, swung the strap down onto her back, so that the impact could be heard all over the glade. He did not do it so very hard, however. Jay noticed that he attempted to make the lash as light as possible. Still, he repeated the operation twice, and there were three distinct red lines across her back when he had finished. Lady Catherine did not flinch.
‘Who are you?’
‘I am Kate.’
‘That is the right answer. What do you have?’
‘Nothing.’
‘What do you want?’
‘I want to live.’
‘What will you give in return?’
‘What I am asked.’
‘Then you will be the least of people, until you have earned the right to be more. Do you accept this?’
‘I do.’
‘Then stand up, Kate, and follow me.’
She stood and dusted herself down, and Jay could see the broad man whispering anxiously into her ear. He didn’t hear it, but he thought he was asking — was that all right? She nodded briefly, and a second man came forward and dressed her in the rough clothes of a labourer, and gave her a pair of hard shoes with wooden soles.