‘Accepted and forgotten.’ Prince Albert smiled a little. ‘You know, I can’t banish you from my presence. You’d be like a very large fog.’
Aubrey felt uneasy. ‘Fog?’
‘You’d be much missed.’
Aubrey groaned. The Prince looked thoroughly pleased. But despite the pain, Aubrey felt lucky to see this side of Bertie. His fondness for puns and wordplay was at odds with his public face, that of the serious, dutiful heir to the throne, hardworking in the stead of his father, whose periodic bouts of irrationality were getting worse.
‘Have you come all the way over here just to subject me to that?’ Aubrey asked.
‘I was on my way back to the Palace after the Gallian commitment, but I couldn’t resist. It was your, how can I put it ... pun-ishment?’
Aubrey put his head in his hands. ‘I’m appalled.’
‘Good. You need appalling every now and then.’ The Prince chuckled. ‘I actually did want to see how you were. It must have been dreadful, being taken over like that.’
Aubrey shuddered. ‘Being out of control? A nightmare.’ ‘I’m glad you weren’t successful. It’d make it hard to take up cousin Leopold on his invitation.’
The misgivings Aubrey had felt before Bertie launched his pun assault were nothing to the misgivings that pricked him now.
‘I only know one Leopold,’ he said slowly. ‘One Leopold who’d be your cousin, anyway. We’re talking about the Elektor of Holmland, aren’t we?’
‘Cousin Leopold, that’s what I said.’
‘Ruler of the most powerful nation on the continent? The country that’s looking to expand its borders? The country that’s likely to be our greatest enemy if this war breaks out?’
‘Leopold is most upset about that,’ Prince Albert said. ‘He says Chancellor Neumann and his government are getting out of hand.’
Aubrey rubbed his forehead. ‘You’re not going, are you?’
Suddenly, it was as if the Prince had taken off one set of clothes and put on another. He straightened, nodded solemnly, and the punning young man was gone. In front of Aubrey was the heir to the throne of Albion, the one who’d been born and raised knowing his duty. ‘Aubrey, I don’t want the world to go to war, and that’s what’s going to happen if something isn’t done about it.’
‘And your visiting Holmland is going to stop the war?’
Bertie rubbed his hands together and stared at them. ‘That’s not the public reason for my visit, no. But while I’m there I want to see what I can do. It might be a step in the right direction. I can’t overlook a chance to bring our nations closer together. It may help ease tension.’
‘Of course. But you must have considered that this invitation could be a plot.’ Aubrey had a thought. ‘If you’re shown to be a Holmland sympathiser, it may diminish your reputation here.’
‘It may be. But I’m willing to risk that for the chance to speak face to face with Leopold.’ He frowned. ‘I have doubts over the veracity of some of the public pronouncements that he’s said to have made.’
‘This visit wouldn’t be based around a symposium or anything, would it? Next week?’
A small smile. ‘Leopold always did like a show. He adored visiting the Great Exhibition here when he was small.’
Aubrey glanced at the Special Services operative. ‘I can see that you’ve made up your mind. You’ll have protection?’
‘Tallis and Craddock have insisted on it. As has your father.’
‘You’ve discussed this with him?’
‘Of course. He wasn’t happy, but he understood my reasoning.’ The Prince pursed his lips. ‘I want to ask you to come along. Having such a useful chap as yourself in my entourage might help reassure your father.’
Aubrey was ready to agree, but then he remembered his promise to Caroline and Kiefer. His face fell. ‘Sorry, Bertie. Other commitments.’
Bertie stood. ‘Don’t trouble yourself, old fellow, just thought I’d see if you were available. If there’s anything I understand, it’s commitments.’ He shook Aubrey’s hand. ‘Now, to another of those commitments.’
Aubrey walked with him to the front door. ‘What is it this time? Dedicating a new bridge? A meeting of an excruciatingly dull committee?’
‘A new battleship is being launched at Imworth. I have to be there. Show of support and all that.’
‘Of course.’
Aubrey saw the Prince out. When the door closed, he stood for a moment, admiring his friend. It couldn’t be easy being the heir to the throne – not to mention that Bertie could rightfully claim the throne of Gallia as well if he chose. There’s someone who knows how to keep a secret.
Eight
Events were bumping together like thunder-clouds before a storm. After the Prince left, Aubrey abandoned his plans for more research. He decided to go looking for Hugo von Stralick, but not before taking a special item from the safe and replenishing George’s appurtenances vest with a variety of possibly useful items.
Holmland was at the heart of things, he decided as the underground train made its way toward Little Pickling. Dr Tremaine, the symposium, the appearance of Otto Kiefer and his Beccaria Cage. He needed to talk to someone about Holmland’s intentions, and Hugo von Stralick was the one whose brain he could pick.
The train took him across the river and he waited impatiently, fingering the Beccaria Cage through his shirt, until he alighted at Laidley Grove Station. After that it was a fair hike to get to the Istros Coffee House.
From the outside, the café looked none the worse for the fracas the previous day. The proprietor didn’t look overwhelmingly happy to see him, frowning as Aubrey made his way through the warm and exotic front room.
The inner room was equally warm, but as Aubrey stood just inside the doorway he couldn’t help but feel that something had changed. Gone was the excited argument, the chatter. The tables were well populated, but heads were bowed, conversations guarded. His arrival sent a ripple of surprised glances around the steamy, smoky room, but no-one would meet his gaze.
He scanned the café but couldn’t see von Stralick. He was about to give up when Kiefer wandered through the front door. He looked relieved, and twisted his cloth cap between his hands as if he were trying to wring it dry. ‘Hugo said you’d be looking for him.’
‘And where is he?’
‘He asked me to find you. Find you and take you to him.’
Aubrey didn’t like being at von Stralick’s command. ‘Where?’
‘I’ll take you.’
‘Cab?’
Kiefer looked blank and Aubrey could see him trying to remember how much money he had in his wallet. ‘We will walk.’
Kiefer’s long legs set a cracking pace, but Aubrey found it easy to keep up, thanks to his reconstituted self. This meant he had enough energy to question Kiefer and, after some initial resistance, the youth became almost garrulous, telling Aubrey a long, rambling tale of the way his father had been exploited, his tragic death and the subsequent struggles of the family. Kiefer walked with his head down and his hands clutched behind his back as he kept up his monologue of money problems and how these had made him careful with every penny, even after he’d been sponsored in his studies by one of Holmland’s more generous nobles. On more than one occasion, Aubrey had to steer him around lamp posts and fellow pedestrians, and he had to take him by the arm whenever it came time to cross a road.
After fifteen minutes of this erratic journey, Kiefer stopped suddenly and peered around. They were approaching a busy intersection, near a flower market, if Aubrey’s nose was any judge.
Kiefer turned his gaze to Aubrey. He was calm and serious. ‘Your Dr Tremaine took all my father’s notes, you know. After the laboratory explosion.’