“You can’t stay here. You have to stop Wallace, Captain,” said Dubois sharply. “Alcazar must not reach Freya!”
“And how do you propose I do that, sir?” Stephano demanded bitterly. “The constables are on their way up the stairs and Sir Henry Wallace is on his way to the docks and he’s holding my friend hostage!”
“That friend would be Monsieur de Villeneuve?” asked Dubois.
“You seem to know all about me,” said Stephano grimly. “Yes, my friend is Monsieur de Villeneuve.”
“Ironic,” murmured Dubois. “It was Sir Henry Wallace who gave the order to have Ambassador de Villeneuve assassinated. I don’t suppose your friend knows that.”
“No,” said Stephano. “Probably just as well he doesn’t.”
“I will deal with the constables, Captain,” said Dubois. “Go into the bedroom. Enter the wardrobe. Inside is a false back that opens onto a staircase which leads to the servants’ quarters. Exit through the kitchen door into a secluded garden. From that point, you are on your own.”
Stephano motioned for everyone to do as Dubois said. Dag led the way, with Gythe and Miri and the Doctor following. Stephano remained a moment. He could hear the constables pounding up the stairs. “I am sorry I shot you, Monsieur. I don’t suppose you have any idea where Henry Wallace might be going?”
Dubois gave a faint smile. “Pietro Alcazar has a brother, Manuel. He serves on a merchant vessel docked in the Foreign Commons. The name of the ship is the Silver Raven.”
Stephano was halfway through the bedroom door when he stopped, turned around. “You’re going to order the navy to sink that vessel, aren’t you?”
Dubois inclined his head. “Alcazar must not be permitted to reach Freya alive, Captain.”
“Give me a chance,” Stephano pleaded. “Let me try to capture the vessel and keep everyone alive, including Alcazar and Rodrigo.”
Dubois gave a faint smile. “God go with you, Captain. And give your esteemed mother my regards.”
Stephano slammed the door shut behind him and pretended he had not heard. He waited a moment to make certain Dubois did not betray them. He listened to the constables enter. Dubois gave them some sort of story about thieves and told them that the man who had shot him had gone out the window.
Stephano could not risk waiting longer. He entered the wardrobe, passed through the false back, and hurried down the dark and narrow stairs that led from the servants’ quarters in the top of the inn to the kitchen area below. He found his friends waiting for him in a garden surrounded by a high wrought-iron fence and tall walnut trees whose intertwined branches effectively shielded them from view of the constables.
Stephano opened the garden gate carefully, afraid the hinges would creak. The hinges were silent, and he noticed they’d been oiled. Dubois thought of everything. Stephano and his friends filed quietly out. The two nuns walked demurely down the street away from the inn. Stephano and Dag with the Doctor back in his accustomed place on his shoulder strolled along behind.
Glancing over his shoulder, Stephano saw constables up on the roof, while others took up positions in the front of the inn. More would be inside, continuing to talk to the grand bishop’s agent, Monsieur Dubois, who was going to be giving the order to the Royal Navy to blast Wallace’s ship-and Rodrigo-out of the Breath unless Stephano could find a way to stop Wallace before that happened.
“What a rotten day! I wonder what the Hell else can go wrong?” Stephano asked himself morosely.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Our eyes wept for our emerald Isle as Glasearrach sank into the Breath. Our hearts wept as our brethren fell to their deaths. Our people wept as God cast us out.
– Trundler Ballad,
THE MORNING HENRY WALLACE FOUND EIDDWEN’S visiting card, Sir Ander entered the archbishop’s dining room in search of a late breakfast.
Sir Ander and Brother Barnaby had been up much of the previous night, standing on the battlements, observing with interest the naval ships moving swiftly through the Breath to interdict any vessel trying to slip out following the closing of the port. The shore batteries located in the concrete bunkers beneath the battlements were fully manned, though only a few guns had been run out to fire a warning volley of powder and wadding, warning irate ship captains that the port-closing would be enforced. The navy caught several ships trying to escape; mostly small boats loaded with contraband.
Sir Ander had explained the naval strategy to Brother Barnaby, pointing out how the larger naval vessels took key positions around the bay while the city’s gunboats moved inside the bay. The smaller gunboats were twenty-four feet long, each mounting a cannon that fired a twenty-four-pound ball. Six armed marines were aboard every gunboat. If a fleeing vessel failed to stop, the marines would fire their muskets. If that failed to persuade the captain, the gunboat would fire the cannon to disable the ship and force it to land. One such vessel was now perched on the roof of a nearby warehouse. Brother Barnaby had never seen such a spectacle, and he had watched in fascinated awe.
Father Jacob had not been on the battlements with them. He had summoned agents of the Arcanum who were currently in Westfirth to the Old Fort, then sent them out to search for the Sorceress and her young disciple known as the Warlock. Father Jacob was hoping that the embargo would keep the Sorceress trapped in this city. Agents were stopping all wyvern-drawn carriages in and out of the city. All overland routes were under surveillance.
Following his meeting, Father Jacob had been engaged in researching the object he had salvaged from the ambush. He had given orders that he was not to be disturbed. At about midnight, Sir Ander had knocked on Father Jacob’s door to see how he was faring. His knock receiving no response, Sir Ander had opened the door softly and quietly.
He had seen Father Jacob hunched over a table covered with a white sheet, taking measurements of the blackened lump and recording them in a book. Sir Ander had watched a moment, wondering what Father Jacob had discovered, if anything. Sir Ander had known better than to disturb his friend while he was at work. He had closed the door and gone off to his bed.
This morning, Sir Ander was alone in the dining room. A servant informed him that archbishop had dined early and gone to see how the work was coming on the cathedral. Brother Barnaby had also dined and had left word for Father Jacob that he would be in the archbishop’s private chapel, praying. The servant had not seen Father Jacob.
Sir Ander assumed the priest had once again fallen asleep over his work. The servant poured coffee. Sir Ander helped himself from the collation on the sideboard. He was dishing out his favorite: Freyan sausages known as “blood pudding,” when he heard Father Jacob’s voice resounding through the palace, shouting Sir Ander’s name in strident and impatient tones.
Sir Ander sat down at the table and began to eat his sausages. The servant looked at him, startled.
“The priest is calling for you, my lord. Should I tell him you are in here?”
“No,” said Sir Ander calmly. “He’ll find me soon enough. I plan to finish my breakfast.”
Still shouting, Father Jacob burst through the doors with a bang, bounding into the room with such energy that the servant, who was accustomed to the elegant, refined manners of the archbishop, jumped and spilled the coffee.
“Here you are, Ander!” cried Father Jacob in a peevish tone.
“Eating breakfast,” said Sir Ander calmly. He pointed to his plate with his fork. “Blood pudding. Excellent. You should have some.”
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” said Father Jacob.
“And now you’ve found me,” said Sir Ander, savoring his sausage.
“I need you to come with me. Now! Where is Barnaby?”
“In the chapel,” said Sir Ander.