“And I would ask one question of Sir Richard,” said Rodrigo. “What the devil were you doing watching this man’s sister’s bedroom in the middle of the night?”
“Do you doubt the word of a gentleman?” Valazquez demanded vehemently.
“I beg your pardon,” said Rodrigo, bowing. “I thought Sir Richard said he was a Freyan.”
It took Piefer a moment to realize he had been insulted. When he did, his face darkened. Valazquez was incoherent with rage, reduced to sputtering.
“Perhaps I can settle this,” Rodrigo continued smoothly. “My lord Valazquez, I recall spending a most enchanting evening a fortnight ago with a young woman who read poems to me as I rested my head on her white thighs-”
“Rodrigo!” Stephano exclaimed, scandalized.
“You lie! My sister, sir, cannot speak your language,” said Valazquez.
Rodrigo frowned thoughtfully. “Her sumptuous curves, her large, round breasts-”
“My sister is slender and petite!”
“Ah, you see?” said Rodrigo, smiling. “This proves it. We are talking about two completely different young women. I bid you a good evening.”
He started to turn away, as though the matter was concluded.
“All this proves is that you are a rogue and a coward!” said Valazquez, trembling with rage. “What of this?” He took from his doublet a packet of letters, tied with a red ribbon, and thrust them at Rodrigo. “Do you deny you sent these to my sister? Her duenna found them tucked under her pillow.”
“Of course, I deny it,” said Rodrigo. “That’s not my handwriting. But even if I had written them, a letter beneath her pillow doesn’t prove that I was beneath the sheets.”
Valazquez flushed in fury and reached for the hilt of his sword. But before he had his sword out of the scabbard, Stephano was holding his rapier’s tip at the young man’s chest. Piefer hurriedly intervened.
“Gentlemen, this is neither the time nor the place,” he said urgently. “The police might return at any moment!”
Stephano held his rapier on Valazquez until the young man slammed his sword back down into the scabbard, then Stephano returned his blade to its scabbard, though he kept his hand on the hilt. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dag standing alert, his hand beneath his jacket where he kept his stowaway pistol.
“You should not interfere, Captain,” Piefer was saying. “The quarrel of Lord Juan Diego is not with you, but with your friend. There is only one way to settle this matter and that is on the field of honor.”
“You make the arrangements, Sir Richard,” said Valazquez. “If I stay here any longer, I will gut this wretch like a pig.”
Casting a glance of utter contempt at Rodrigo, Valazquez stalked off, walking over to stand beneath one of the oak trees.
Rodrigo looked utterly bewildered. “Arrangements. But this is a jest…
“I’m afraid not, my friend,” said Stephano gravely. “Your sins have caught up with you.”
“I didn’t write to the girl!” Rodrigo protested.
“Stand over there and be quiet,” Stephano ordered in exasperation.
Rodrigo did as he was told, though he continued to listen anxiously.
“I will act as second for Lord Juan Diego,” said Piefer.
“And I will act as second for Monsieur de Villeneuve,” said Stephano. “As the challenged party, we have the choice of weapons.”
“That is true,” said Piefer. “What do you propose?”
“Pistols,” said Stephano.
Rodrigo bounded forward and plucked at Stephano’s sleeve. “Pistols! What are you doing? You remember what happened the last time I fired a gun-”
“You stand a better chance with pistols than you do with a sword,” said Stephano. He turned back to Piefer. “Where shall we meet, my lord?”
“Are you familiar with the cemetery of the Church of Saint Charles, Captain?” Piefer asked politely.
“I am, my lord,” said Stephano.
“The cemetery is quiet, out of the way, suitable to such affairs as this-”
“And you can just bury me while we’re there!” Rodrigo groaned. “Save time, trouble-”
“I propose we meet at the cemetery at the hour of six of the clock in the morning if that is agreeable to you, Captain,” Piefer concluded.
“It is most agreeable,” said Stephano. He bowed. “Your servant, my lord.”
“Your servant, Captain.” Piefer bowed to Stephano.
Piefer did not bow to Rodrigo, but cast him a cold glance and then turned on his heel and walked away to join Valazquez.
Watching Piefer, Stephano experienced again the feeling that something about this man was familiar. Stephano had not met Piefer at court. Stephano had not been to court in months. He watched the Freyan with the disquieting feeling that the answer was important and that it was teetering on the tip of his brain.
Stephano gave up. Whatever it was, he couldn’t take time to concentrate. He had to think of Rodrigo who was facing certain death.
The afterglow lit the sky, but the shadows were dark beneath the oak trees and the park was almost deserted when Stephano gave the private signal to Dag, Miri, and Gythe that he would be in touch with them later. There was nothing they could do.
The three had all witnessed the incident, and they had heard enough of Valazquez’s ravings to figure out what had transpired. Stephano could tell at a glance what they were thinking.
Dag had never approved of Rodrigo, and he obviously believed in his guilt. Miri rolled her eyes and shook her head. She could never understand men and their need to settle such matters with bloodshed. Gythe was troubled and unhappy. He saw her try to come comfort Rodrigo, but her sister stopped her. The Cadre had to keep up the pretense that none of them knew each other.
Dag gathered up Doctor Ellington, put the cat on his shoulder, and waited for Gythe to pack up the harp. Always protective of the two women, he would see to it they reached the Cloud Hopper safely. Dag cast Rodrigo a final stern and dour glance before he left.
“Stephano,” said Rodrigo when they were alone. “You have to get me out of this duel. I don’t know one end of a pistol from another.”
“I’m not certain I can, Rigo,” said Stephano with a sigh. “I always told you something dire was bound to happen. The way you carry on-”
“But I swear to you I never touched that wretched girl! Well, perhaps I did touch her, but nothing more than a kiss on the hand.”
“They have the letters you were imprudent enough to write to the girl.”
“I didn’t write those letters.”
“No one will believe you-”
“Meaning you don’t believe me,” said Rodrigo with a faint smile. He added wistfully, “We could sail off on the Cloud Hopper tonight. We were going to Westfirth in the morning anyhow. Just make an early start?”
“Rigo,” said Stephano, laying his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “this is an affair of honor. Think what would happen if you ran. You would be branded a coward. You would no longer be admitted to court or to any of the elegant parlors or salons you love to frequent. Besides, this affair doesn’t affect you alone. Your father may be an ambassador, but his favor with the king is tenuous at best. Think of the disgrace that would fall on him and your mother and your older brothers if the story circulates that you basely fled-”
“Enough, enough,” said Rodrigo. He had been standing with his head lowered. He gave a thin smile. “Can you make me an expert marksman in one night?”
Stephano thought back to the one time he’d tried to teach his friend to handle a gun and he shuddered.
“It’s late to be practicing with a pistol,” he said evasively. “The neighbors would call the police.”
“I suppose you’re right. I doubt practicing would do me any good anyway. Perhaps this foul Valazquez is as poor as shot as I am,” Rodrigo said hopefully.
“Perhaps he is,” said Stephano, striving to be cheerful, though he gave an inward sigh. He had heard of Valazquez. The young man had fought any number of duels. He was a good swordsman and had a reputation as a crack shot.