Jacob put his arm around her carefully to pick her up and felt something at her waist. It was a ribbon, and hanging from it was a little collection of owls — two fobs, two pocket-watches, a flask, a pendant, a ring. Seven in all. He picked up the machine and staggered a little under its weight. His ankle throbbed and he breathed hard. ‘Sorry about this, madam. But I’m almost out of ideas.’
VI.11
The party of hussars came to a slightly disorderly stop, and Harriet urged her horse past them till she could reach the rider at the head of the column.
‘What is happening, Major?’
He nodded to the left and for the first time Harriet noted a stooped servant, staring up in fear at the great horses and glittering uniforms that surrounded him.
‘This man wants us to go to Count Frenzel’s home and help some boy save Chancellor Swann and a Master Florian,’ he said to her. He was smiling slightly. Harriet looked down. The old man held out a gold coin nervously towards her. ‘Oh yes,’ the Major said. ‘He says he’ll pay us.’
Pegel kicked open the door to the courtyard. Florian was slumped on the ground at Wimpf’s feet. Frenzel was carefully laying Swann across the framework of logs on top of the pyre. As Pegel stepped out through the doorway, Frenzel and Wimpf both turned towards him. Wimpf looked startled, Frenzel, quite calm. Ah, Mr Pegel. We thought you’d left.’ He saw Pegel look at his friend. ‘Florian is not dead, Mr Pegel. Merely unconscious. I was finding his ignorant complaints rather irritating.’
‘Get away from Swann, Count.’
The courtyard’s white walls reflected the moonlight, giving everything about the place a pale, dreamlike atmosphere. The flames of the dozen torches around the walls whispered and hissed.
‘Now, now, Mr Pegel. I don’t wish to appear ungrateful. It is, after all, thanks to you that Swann came here — a desperate man is one very easy to fool — but you shall not interfere. Go away.’ He picked up a torch from the bracket and approached the pyre again.
‘I am armed,’ Pegel said, his voice higher.
‘But not very effectively. The pistol you are holding is not an accurate weapon, you know. Wimpf’s is much better.’
‘It doesn’t need to be accurate.’ Pegel moved away from the door-frame, pulling the automaton with him so Frenzel could see it and pressed the barrel of his gun to its torso.
Frenzel stopped. ‘If you harm her, Pegel, I shall pursue you through hell.’ He took a step away from the pyre.
‘Then let us go.’ Jacob nodded to the figure of Swann. ‘All of us.’
‘Not possible.’ Frenzel smiled. ‘We seem to be at something of an impasse.’
Pegel swallowed. Frenzel put his head on one side. ‘Even so close, your shot would be unlikely to damage the vessel.’ Pegel thought he heard something — one of the horses in the stables, no doubt. ‘So even if you manage to pull the trigger before Wimpf’s shot kills you …’ He gave a little nod. Pegel thought he heard something else. Metallic. ‘Wimpf? Please shoot Mr Pegel.’ Frenzel set his torch to the pyre; it began to crackle. Wimpf hesitated. ‘Now, please, Wimpf.’
Pegel lifted his nose: that was horses, several of them. A great shout reached them from the world outside: ‘Hoo-rah!’ and there was a clatter of hooves on cobblestones in the outer courtyard. An English voice, a woman’s, shouting: ‘There, through that arch! Fire!’
Frenzel had gone completely still, the torch in his hand and a look of confusion on his face. Wimpf shut his eyes and held the gun straight, then fired. Pegel darted behind the automaton and felt the force of his own gun exploding, pressed against the automaton’s side. Wimpf’s bullet caught it too. The roar deafened him. Pegel felt the automaton fall across him, trapping his ankle. He yelled, squeezing his eyes closed with the pain. When he opened them, he found himself staring into the automaton’s blue eyes. They flickered. ‘Christ,’ he said, and instinctively reached out and touched her cheek. It felt warm. He dropped back onto his elbows, panting.
‘There, through the arch! Fire!’ Harriet shouted, and the Hussars drove their horses forward. The courtyard suddenly erupted with noise. One, two shots in quick succession. She saw Clode’s thin form slide down from his horse and dash forward. She did the same, lifting up her skirts and running, then came to a halt, blinded by the fierce light of the bonfire. Count Frenzel was surrounded by soldiers. Pegel, looking terrified, was struggling to get out from under some figure that had fallen across him. Another young man was laying over the cobbles some feet away.
‘Swann!’ Pegel shouted. ‘Swann is on the fire!’ It’s too late, Harriet thought. The fire has hold. ‘He’s still alive!’
A man sprang up the bonfire in the corner where the flames were still only smouldering and grabbed Swann round the shoulders. Not until he shouted to the Hussars for help, did Harriet realise it was Clode. Crowther and the Major got to him first and together they dragged the Chancellor’s body down and away.
‘Christ, man!’ Graves was at Clode’s side beating out the sparks on his coat. Crowther had taken off his cloak and was using it to do the same for the Chancellor, then he checked Swann’s pulse and Harriet heard the Major’s voice: ‘He’s gone.’ Then Crowther’s murmured reply: ‘Don’t be so sure.’ Crowther stood up and crossed to the other man, and turned him on his side. He was a young man, fair-haired. Pegel’s friend, she supposed. He groaned.
Pegel finally managed to push away the damaged figure that lay across him. As he shoved it aside, the torso seemed to buckle and Count Frenzel made a desperate swallowing grunt and collapsed to his knees. There was a ringing sound of metal on stone, and a large brass egg-shaped object rolled free from the body. It split apart on the cobbles and in the light of the torches, Harriet saw it ooze something dark and oily. Frenzel began to wail, a high wordless lament, his head tipped back and staring up into the stars above his home. ‘For Christ’s sake,’ Harriet heard Graves say to the Major. ‘Get the Count out of here. Get him to Krall.’ The keening continued.
The Major undid the rope that was round Florian’s wrists and used it to bind his father. Harriet noticed that the Major’s face was dead white. Frenzel would not stand, he would not walk, so they dragged him out of the courtyard, his eyes still fixed on the broken ghost of his wife.
Harriet still could not move. The torches cast red shadows over her dress and caught the light of her hair. All around her, people were busy. Some of the Hussars were dowsing the flames. Pegel had crawled over to where Crowther was tending to Florian. Clode was bent over the Chancellor, Graves at his side. She remained, amazed, watching the fire, and as the Hussars emptied buckets of water on its smouldering ashes under the direction of the old servant, listened to their hiss and complaint. The water ran over the cobbles, soaking the automaton and carrying the contents of the brass vessel into the gutter.
PART VII
VII.1
Dawn had come. Harriet was seated on a low bench of the inner courtyard reading Count Frenzel’s letter to his son. She tried to picture Beatrice, her sharpness and confidence. How terrible to have been so wrong. So she had winkled the story of Antonia’s death from Wimpf at one of the seances in the fake village and set off with her chin in the air. She thought she’d find a fat sheep to fleece in his castle with his grief and his automata, but she had thrown herself into the lap of a wolf. Frenzel related how he studied Beatrice’s book then went to court to find who had been responsible for his wife’s disgrace. There he found Wimpf, their devoted servant, eager to please and already aware of the secret room, its seven glasses. The letter ended with a series of crowing descriptions of the murders Frenzel had perpetrated, his anger when he became aware that Rachel had seen the grave on her visit to his home with Clode, the realisation that he had the means and opportunity to make her husband appear a murderer with the datura drug. Colonel Padfield himself had told the Count about the costumes and the haberdasher’s shop where the party intended to change into their Carnival costumes. Frenzel proclaimed himself an equal of God, and ended again with a declaration of love.