Twenty-two
Aubrey excused himself from the breakfast as soon as he politely could. It caused an exodus. Kiefer hurried off, saying he had still much research to attend to. Von Stralick watched his cousin go, thoughtfully, and then made his excuses as well. Aubrey wondered if von Stralick was having some pangs over his mentoring role for the young magician. It looked as if it was proving harder than he’d expected, with Kiefer’s changes of mood. The young man was driven, there was no doubt about that, but Aubrey wondered if revenge or ambition were proving the stronger motivation.
Caroline was keen to go as well, but George looked mournfully at his plate before joining his friends.
Aubrey promised himself he’d treat his friend to a fine meal – when they had time.
Back at the embassy, Aubrey accosted the first official he saw. ‘Where’s the Prince?’
The man gaped. ‘The Prince?’
Aubrey saw Quentin Hollows descending the stairs. ‘Never mind. Hollows, where’s the Prince? He’s in danger.’
Hollows looked alarmed. ‘He’s gone to visit the Elektor. I say, what’s going on?’
‘He’s taken his bodyguard?’
‘Only a pair of them. He’s visiting the Elektor, after all.’
Aubrey grimaced. The last place you’d expect an incident is exactly the best place for someone to plan one. ‘Send a squad around to the Elektor’s palace straight away. Is a motorcar ready?’
‘Of course.’
‘Good. Can you telephone ahead? Let them know to expect us?’
‘I can.’ Hollows frowned. ‘Can’t you tell me what’s going on?’
‘Remember the attempt on the Prince’s life? The one we were sure wasn’t going to happen? It looks as if it could be under way.’
The motorcar trip was rapid and probably illegal, thanks to George’s sitting in the front seat next to the driver and brandishing a gold ten-mark piece whenever he slowed down.
At the palace, a troop of Imperial Household Guards was waiting for them. George put his arm over the back of the seat. ‘Not quite the welcome we were expecting, old man?’
‘Not quite. But let’s see.’
The officer in charge clicked his heels, but Aubrey noticed how he kept his hand on his sabre. Even though the uniform was laden with gilt and crimson, the sabre looked rather more than ceremonial. ‘Mr Fitzwilliam?’ the officer said in passable Albionish. ‘You will come with us, if you please. And your friends.’
‘Sorry, but we must see the Elektor. Or Prince Albert.’
‘You will come with us,’ the officer repeated and it was clear that the invitation had moved from a request to a demand.
Aubrey sighed and touched the Beccaria Cage. ‘If you wish.’
They were taken to an office. It had been renovated reasonably recently, but its origins as a room in the original baroque palace were clear in the remaining cornices, where cherubs peered down at them from among plaster clouds and sunbeams.
A beefy man was looking out the window, over the parade grounds. ‘The new Werner lorries have arrived,’ he said without turning. ‘The best in the world, you know.’
His Albionish was harsh, but fluent. He was wearing a dark suit of conservative cut. When he turned, the first thing that Aubrey saw was the truly impressive set of mutton-chops that swelled down his cheeks to reach the corners of his mouth, as if two skinny cats were lounging about on his face.
His head was mostly bald, which made his broad brow seem even broader. The whole effect was a man who was top heavy, especially since he was tall and large framed.
‘Chancellor Neumann?’ Aubrey said.
The chancellor frowned, then nodded. ‘You must be Fitzwilliam. You have the look of your mother about you.’ He studied Aubrey for a moment. ‘And your father.’ He bowed to Caroline. ‘Miss Hepworth. I welcome you and your mother back to Holmland.’
‘Your Excellency.’
‘And Doyle.’
‘Sir,’ George said, startled to be recognised.
Chancellor Neumann studied them for a time in a silence that soon became uncomfortable. He didn’t scowl – not quite – but Aubrey saw him committing them to memory. Eventually, he waved a hand – an impatient, peremptory gesture. ‘What is it you want?’
Aubrey glanced at his friends. They couldn’t trust the Chancellor, but could they save the Prince without trusting him?
It was time for subterfuge.
‘The Prince’s medication,’ Aubrey said. ‘He left the embassy without it.’
The Chancellor’s impressive eyebrows shot up. ‘Medication? For the Prince? I have heard nothing about this.’
‘Oh.’ Aubrey did his best to look torn. ‘It was meant to be a secret.’
Caroline came to his side. ‘You can’t keep it hidden, Aubrey. Not now. He could die.’
The Chancellor’s eyes narrowed very slightly, while he shook his head with evident concern. Aubrey knew then that the trick had worked. The Chancellor was filing this titbit of information away. Prince Albert unwell? Needing life-preserving medication? Useful. ‘You have it with you?’
Aubrey touched his appurtenances vest and was rewarded with the satisfying ‘clink’ from a tiny bottle of ink he’d stowed earlier. ‘Right here.’
The Chancellor held out his hand. ‘I will take it to him.’
That wasn’t the result Aubrey was after. He froze with his hand on his chest. ‘I...’
The door opened. The Chancellor stiffened. ‘Your highness.’
A young man stood in the doorway, and Aubrey was startled at the family resemblance to Bertie. He was tall, slim, dark haired, dark eyes, with a razor-sharp moustache. He was younger than Aubrey had thought, too, lucky to be thirty. He wore the dark blue uniform of the Holmland navy.
‘Neumann,’ the Elektor said, his expression open and curious. ‘Who are these people?’
The Chancellor worked his jaw. It was apparent to Aubrey that the last thing he wanted to do was make introductions, but he had no choice. ‘Your highness, this is Miss Hepworth, Mr Fitzwilliam, and Mr Doyle.’
The Elektor brightened. ‘Fitzwilliam? Aubrey Fitzwilliam, the Albion Prime Minister’s son? Bertie has told me so much about you!’
Aubrey seized the opportunity so hard that he was in danger of throttling it. ‘It’s Prince Albert, sir. He’s unwell. I have to get his special medicine to him straight away.’
‘Bertie is here?’ The Elektor frowned. ‘You didn’t tell me this, Neumann.’
What is going on here? Aubrey thought. The ambassador said Bertie had gone to see the Elektor!
‘He hasn’t been here long, your highness. I was about to inform you.’
The Elektor clicked his tongue with exasperation. ‘And where is he, then? Quickly, man!’
The Chancellor hesitated for only an instant, but Aubrey knew calculation when he saw it. The Chancellor was sorting through possible answers before arriving at one that he was obviously unhappy with. ‘The Prince is in your laboratory. He asked to see it.’
‘This way,’ the Elektor said to Aubrey.
A strangled noise came from the Chancellor. Aubrey was startled to see that he was sweating, a fine sheen appearing on his forehead. ‘I don’t think that’s wise, your highness. We have word that an intruder is loose in the palace.’
‘An intruder? Why wasn’t I told?’
‘The matter has just come to light, your highness.’
‘I will take guards.’
The Chancellor stood rigidly, his jaw clenched tightly. ‘I will go, your highness. It may not be safe.’
‘Not safe in my own palace with my own guards? Nonsense! I will find Bertie while you organise the search for this intruder. Now, quickly Fitzwilliam!’
‘I have always been interested in magic and in science,’ the Elektor said as they hurried along the corridor. The four guards trailing them jingled as they jogged.