‘You got any friends here willing to shelter you?’
His left eye glittered with hope and he spoke quickly, his words flickered with spit and fear. ‘The pastor’s — Pastor Huber … His house is down the track past the forge.’
Michaels looked at him. The man was worth nothing, and to take him would rob the growing crowd of its revenge for all the beatings he’d given out. He thought of his wife again, remembering an argument they had had about some business in Hartswood. ‘You’re not God, Michaels!’ she had said.
‘We’re going now.’ He got the man’s good arm over his shoulder and hauled him up, thanking God he hadn’t broken the bastard’s legs. He felt the crowd watching him, jealous, angry, but it was leaderless now. If one man had stepped forward and claimed the blacksmith, the rest would have followed, but no one did. ‘We don’t run, we don’t dawdle,’ Michaels said, and taking as much weight as he could, half-dragged the blacksmith from the square.
V.5
After some minutes breathing in the fresh air, Harriet found that Crowther had joined her. He stood a few feet away from her, leaning on the head of his cane and watching. It was typical of him, she thought, to remain at hand, but not approach her too solicitously. Rather he waited until she had recovered enough to speak. At last she lifted her head and looked about her. It was still early. The entrance to the Lady’s Chapel lay in a small enclosed courtyard, high-walled and hardly overlooked. There were a number of neat piles of workmen’s tools and a stone bench against one wall. Its plainness was a relief in comparison to the rest of the palace, and the slight chill in the air was welcome. The two men guarding the chapel doors kept their eyes on the empty air in front of their noses.
Crowther saw her lift her head, and nodding towards the bench, he crossed the space between them and offered his arm. She took it and let herself be guided. As soon as they had taken their seat he reached into his coat-pocket and produced a document, much decorated with ribbon and seals.
‘What is that?’
‘The order for Daniel’s release.’
‘Krall gave it to you?’
‘He procured it while we had our coffee and had it in his coat all the time. I feel as if it is a reward for having spotted the trickery in the placing of the body.’
She took it from him and traced with her fingertip the impression of the seal of Maulberg. ‘How strange. We came all this distance to obtain this. I should feel elated, should I not?’
He began to twist his cane between his palms. ‘We came to save Daniel, yes. But we also came to know the truth. To find out what has happened.’
‘Where is Krall?’
‘He has gone to fetch my knives for me.’
‘Did he say anything to you about this mysterious chamber?’
‘He seems to think it was a place for confidential meetings. That is his speculation, at any rate. He asks us to let him interrogate Major Auwerk himself.’ She nodded. ‘It seems we were not the Countess’s first visitors, Mrs Westerman. The Duke came and sat vigil with her as dawn came up.’
Harriet sighed deeply. ‘I will never know what is meant here, and what is true. Do you trust Krall?’
Crowther shook his head. ‘I don’t think I trust anything I see here. My instinct is to think Krall honest and well-meaning, but that is my prejudice. I see the show and fakery of the court and do not like it. Therefore when I see Krall looking ill at ease amongst it in his old coat, I am disposed to like him. There is no logic in it. Do you trust him, Mrs Westerman?’
She smiled slightly. ‘You put faith in my instinct, Crowther? I have learned to my cost it is not so accurate as I would like, but my feelings are as yours on the subject.’
She pulled one of the ribbons on the release order through her fingers. She could hear the usual shouts and orders coming from the other courtyards now. The palace was waking.
‘Have you ever seen anything like this murder, Crowther?’ she said at last.
‘No, Mrs Westerman. I imagine few people have.’
‘I cannot help remembering what you told us of Kupfel’s drug. I wish he had not told you about the continued suffering of those rendered passive by it.’
‘May I suggest you do not dwell on the subject? Whatever hell they passed through, their sufferings are over now.’
She did not reply at once, then: ‘Why does he want their blood, Crowther? I had been almost seduced by Graves’s talk of revolutionary Freemasons into thinking these killings had some sort of political intention behind them, then the blood and that symbol. This is some manner of ritual.’
‘Freemasonry is all ritual, in my opinion. It makes the members feel they are more than some ordinary drinking society, but this is a step beyond anything I have heard imputed to any branch of Masonry I know of. No mention of collecting blood, or smothering people with earth.’
‘A pity. It would have made life rather more simple.’ She sat forward and put her chin in her hand, tapping Daniel’s release order against her skirt. ‘The elements. We have three of the four: water, earth — fire, possibly, if Warburg is another victim — what of air?’
‘It is a very easy thing to smother a person who is incapacitated. Close the mouth, pinch the nose. In the absence of any other of the four elements at the death of Fink and Raben, I would suggest that this insanity could say they were killed by air, or rather, the lack of it.’
‘It has a rather twisted logic to it.’ She stared at the flagstones in front of her. ‘Why do people perform rituals? Make sacrifices?’
‘To gain some advantage, some blessing from the gods.’
‘I read a rather colourful account of instances of human sacrifice in my father’s library,’ she said. ‘Peoples who were in the habit of killing prisoners or their own kin for success in wars or some such.’
He smiled. ‘I am surprised your father let you read such things.’
‘Oh, I was forbidden to do so. But he often forgot to lock his study door. Crowther, if these are sacrifices, these victims with rank and position, I feel that whoever is offering them must be asking for a very great favour from his gods. And there is another matter,’ she went on. ‘If we are right, and the blood is being removed from the place of killing …’
‘We are right. The blood flowed, the blood is no longer there. Ergo, it has been removed.’
She lifted her hand, impatient at the interruption. ‘Then perhaps we are not seeing the ritual, but only a part of it. He is doing something else with the blood.’
‘I see.’
At last she stood and smoothed her skirts.
‘I mean to track down this symbol that was on the door, Crowther. And put the order for Daniel’s release into Rachel’s hands.’
‘You will tell them of the murder of Countess Dieth?’
‘I shall.’
‘It is to be given out that Countess Dieth has gone into the country.’
‘Naturally. The new Duchess arrives in state tomorrow morning, does she not? Poor child.’ She turned away. ‘I shall leave you to the Countess. I wish I had had the opportunity to speak with her further.’ She bit her lip, then without another word, left him.
The priest, Huber, opened his door himself, but when he made no move to stand aside, Michaels gave it a firm push and dragged in the blacksmith. The priest stank of brandy, though if they were fumes lingering from the night before or he had started again, Michaels could not say. He saw a simple parlour with a sturdy-looking chair in it, so dropped the blacksmith there.