
## The Adventure of Anna the Great

### by Camille LaGuire

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_A girl disguised as a boy gets a job in the royal stables and becomes involved with kidnappings and court intrigues._

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Second Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Camille LaGuire. All rights reserved.

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### Table of Contents

Chapter 1 \- My Only Chance for Adventure

Chapter 2 \- Anna Errant

Chapter 3 \- The Mission of the Gentleman in Black

Chapter 4 \- A Few Rumors

Chapter 5 \- The Royal Stableboy

Chapter 6 \- The Villain's Explanation

Chapter 7 \- Council of War

Chapter 8 \- The Bloch Family

Chapter 9 \- The Tournament

Chapter 10 \- Sea Sprite

Chapter 11 \- Nighttime Mischief

Chapter 12 \- After the Fox!

Chapter 13 \- Sea Sprite's Dam

Chapter 14 \- The Duke in the Nighttime

Chapter 15 \- Bloch's Revenge

Chapter 16 \- The Lady

Chapter 17 \- An Escape

Chapter 18 \- Another Escape

Chapter 19 \- A Return

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### Chapter I - My Only Chance for Adventure

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ON A SEPTEMBER evening in 1862, I stood in front of the mirror in my cousin Celeste's room, snipping a pair of scissors in the air. I knew it was probably not the most important action of my life. It just felt like it.

I was fourteen, and even so, I did look more like a boy than a girl. Even with long hair–long, stringy, nut brown hair that hung limp as a rag mop. It would be no great loss. I grabbed a handful of it, raised my scissors and began to cut.

The door opened behind me. I wheeled around, expecting my Aunt Elfreda, but it was only Celeste, who was sneaking in loudly. Celeste was not good at the cloak and dagger side of things.

"Everything is just ready...." When she saw what I was doing she gasped. "Oh, Anna, no! Not your hair!"

A girl's appearance was very important to Celeste, but then she was truly lovely. Her skin was translucent and glowing, like a pearl. Her eyes were large, and her little mouth was red and round. Her body was rounded too, and already quite feminine.

"They'll never think I'm a boy with these beautiful flowing tresses," I said firmly. I raised my hand to snip some more, but she floated across the room to stop me. I can't describe Celeste's walk any other way. The huge folds of silk and lace cover any sign of legs.

"No, no, Anna, please!" She shook her pretty yellow curls at me, and laid a hand on my wrist. "You could hide your hair up under your hat, as the ladies do in plays, when they pretend to be gentlemen."

"And keep my hat on tight for three months?" I said. "What if it falls off? Besides, I've already cut some. See?"

"Oh, that's all right. We can make it into bangs with some lovely little curls."

I sighed and pulled my arm away from her, gently because I didn't want to hurt her feelings. I turned to the mirror and began cutting quickly.

"At least you should let me do it," she said. "You're getting it all uneven."

I surrendered the scissors to her, and she snipped away my main barrier to the male world, shaking her head as each lock fell. I admit she did a good job, except that she left it a little long. I don't think she could help herself, and I didn't mind, since it made me look a little rascally and unkempt.

When I was ready, she blew out the light and we stood together at the window, watching for the light in the stable to go out. Andre, our stableman, would go to bed soon. The moon was out, putting a blue and silver light on everything. Even in that cold light Celeste looked flushed. She had been working herself into a fever all afternoon, and now she trembled in an effort to contain herself.

"Calm down," I whispered.

"I can't help it," she replied. "I'm so excited."

"But tomorrow you'll go on as normal. I'm the one who should be excited."

"I don't see how you're not," she squeaked. "Suppose we should be caught."

I could not tell from her tone if getting caught would be horrible or thrilling. I think her nerves helped me with my own, though. I did not feel nervous at all, only slightly on edge. I was eager. I pressed against the glass. It was so cold it startled me. Perhaps I was a little fevered, too.

I had been preparing for this for months. No, I suppose it was for my whole life, really. I had read every adventure novel I could get–not that I was allowed to read such nasty things, but Celeste's maid smuggled them in to me from her brother. I read them aloud to Celeste at night, when we were supposed to be in bed. Celeste wanted to be a heroine, but I wanted to be a hero. The heroine, after all, never got to do anything. But the heroes got to do wonderful things, like riding and fighting and climbing and spying. I learned to fence by butting in on my brother's lessons. I learned to ride astride from Andre, our stableman, who didn't care if I was a girl, as long as I rode right. I was ready for my own adventure. I could not wait for it any longer.

My real life was boring enough to kill me. My parents are the popular socialites Baron Fritz and Ariel von Halzig, very well known throughout the small Balkan nation of Lifbau, but not so well known to me. They left me to be raised by relatives and I didn't even feel I belonged to them, or to anyone. Aunt Elfreda, who raised me, did not approve of me because I could not sew like Celeste, or dance like Celeste, or do anything at all girls were supposed to do as well as Celeste. I was too awkward, and I was left-handed, which was a sin in itself to my old fashioned aunt. I did try to please her, but I did not really care what she thought. I did not much care about anything, until I decided to run away and make my own adventure.

I had it well planned. For three months they would not even know I was gone. My parents had just left on one of their many voyages. Celeste had convinced Aunt Elfie that they had let me go with them this time. They, of course, thought I was home. All I needed was some of my brother's clothes, and to cut my hair, and I was ready.

The moon was out full now. The white light fell harsh, defining each leaf on the trees and each blade of grass in the fields. All completely still. There was no wind. The whiteness of it looked as if a hard frost had fallen. The bricks in the stable yard shone like a mass of glass cubes. Two horses were out to pasture near the stable, gleaming like pewter. In all that sea of ice and silver, the small lighted window stood out warm and gold. It held our attention for some time, and then I saw an arm reach across it and it went black.

Celeste and I stood a moment longer, to be sure Andre was asleep. I moved away from the window and silently to the door of her room. There I stopped.

"Goodbye, Celeste," I said, grabbing her and hugging her. I was suddenly afraid to leave. What if something happened? What if when I came back I was sent off to some dreadful school in punishment? I might not see her for a long time. "And thank you."

"Goodbye, Anna," she said, hugging me back and giving me a kiss on both cheeks.

"Albert," I corrected. We were both reduced to nervous giggles.

"Yes, gallant Albert," she said. "Goodbye, Albert!"

We again fell to giggling and I made leg with an expansive bow. Then we waved to one another and I reached for the door knob.

"I'll go with you to the stable," said Celeste, growing suddenly serious. "I'll help you with Jupiter."

"No, you'll give us away," I whispered. She looked so hurt that I added, "It's easier for one to sneak by than two."

"I'll watch at the window then," she said slowly.

"All right."

"Don't forget to wave!"

"I won't"

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

"Oh, wait! Good luck!"

"Thank you."

I could see that this might go on for some time, and I felt another fit of giggles forcing its way up from my stomach. I abruptly threw myself out the door, in a manner I imagined some dashing hero might exit a window, and pulled it shut behind me.

With the closing of that door I became a boy. I would be, if anyone asked, the illegitimate son of a nobleman. Celeste and I made the story up on those long nights of waiting. The nobleman was the one who gave me my fine horse, boots and sword. I could always, if not strictly believed, imply that I was not really certain just who my father was, but whether I was believed or not about my parents did not matter. I only wanted to be taken as a boy, any boy. I had no fear of my body giving me away.

I swaggered out of that house. I was so cocky, I felt like laughing, or yelling. Instead I leapt over the mounting block and gave a skip step. I had no skirts to hinder me. I felt so free! I took one last look about the yard, which still shone with silver moonlight, but it no longer seemed cold or eerie. It was a clear light, a pure light, and it lit the road out, that thrilling silver strip that I would soon be on.

I slipped through the white door at the end of our low brick stable. It seemed like complete darkness after the brightness of the moon. A horse nickered quietly and some other answered her. I rode at night often, and I knew that it was common for horses to do this. Andre probably would not even notice, but I held still for a moment, to be sure.

The saddles and tack for each horse were kept across from his stall. I counted down three stalls to Jupiter's tack. I had purchased an astride saddle, saying it was a gift for my brother. Nobody expected me to use it, so it was on the far side of my sidesaddle. I had to reach across and tug it out. It was not heavy, though, and I had run up the stirrups and bound them tightly so they would not jingle. I then groped for my bridles. I went past my double bridle, reluctantly, for it was my prize. It was really only for the finesse riding that Andre had taught me, and its bits and curb chain would clank together. I reached for my snaffle bridle, and my hand felt blank wall. I felt around. It was not there.

I thought for a moment I may have got my bridles on the wrong pegs, and that I was reaching too far, but then my hand came upon the empty peg. The bridle was gone.

I knew what had happened. Andre had not got around to cleaning it until late and had taken it into his room. I rested my hand on the remaining bridle and the bits tinkled, like a little bell.

"Who's zere?"

The voice was loud and harsh, and slightly frightened. A flare of light came with it. I turned and shaded my eyes, holding my saddle in front of me like a shield. Andre stood, or rather crouched, in his nightshirt at the first stall. He was holding a lamp high with his right hand, and a riding crop in the other. He was a small, dark, foreign man, in his forties. He could hardly speak German, though he certainly communicated well enough, and his smile was clear in any language. Aunt Elfie thought him common because he had been a circus performer and a jockey, but I adored him.

"Who is zere?" he said again, coming closer and raising the lamp to get a better view. "Anna?"

He lowered the whip and straightened, still studying me. I lowered my hand and squinted at him, my eyes still not used to the light. I said nothing. He looked at my hair and my saddle.

"You are leaving Gus?"

"You are leaving _us_ ," I corrected. He shrugged. He had no will to learn the language. "Please don't tell."

"Where are you going?"

"Away," I said, as I evaded his eyes. "I'll be back by Christmas."

"You expect danger?" He pointed at my sword. It was my turn to shrug. "Have you money?"

I nodded. I had a pocket full of silver and gold hidden throughout my clothing and belongings.

"You have plans?"

Again I nodded. "You won't tell, will you?"

He sighed and looked at the ground and shook his head. "When I was twelve, I run away to za circus. I have no money, no horse, no schooling. You are fourteen, and have all zis. I will not tell."

"Thank you, Andre," I said, moving to hug him, but the saddle got in the way. "You're a dear."

"I am," he said, as I rushed to the stall. "What shall I say about za horse? He is gone. Zey will notice."

I stopped and turned.

"You didn't tink of zat," he said.

"No, I didn't," I said, returning. "I'm sorry. I'm so stupid. I had a lot to think about."

"I'll tink of someting." He retreated back into his room. I went to rouse Jupiter. In a moment Andre was back with my bridle, which he put on the horse himself, while I feverishly struggled with the saddle. He then produced a halter, which he put over the bridle.

"I tought you might need zis."

"Thank you, Andre."

He stroked Jupiter's neck and said some words in French to him. Jupiter was a dark gelding, almost black, with only a sandy sheen at his fetlocks and face to say he was a chestnut. He was an intelligent animal, graceful and affectionate, bred for agility rather than speed. I think Andre would miss him as much as he did me.

"Why do you come back at Christmas?" Andre said, not looking up from Jup's nose.

"I'll be discovered by then. They'll know I'm gone when my parents get back."

"But tree monts gone, and zey'll never find you."

"I don't know. They'll worry."

"You don't want to make trouble, ah?"

"But I am trouble all the same. I hope I'm not getting you into trouble about Jupiter."

"Ah," he said. "I know trouble so well. We are old friends."

I looked up at Andre. He was still rather young, but the experiences in that life must completely fill it. I knew that when I came back I would have to talk to him more, _listen_ to him.

We led my steed from the stable, and before I mounted I hugged my friend.

"Goodbye, Andre."

"Take care of za horse."

"I will."

I swung into the saddle and waved to him. I could see a vague outline of Celeste at her window, hopping up and down, I suppose in worry at the presence of Andre. I waved enthusiastically to her, but rode away rather sadly. It was a happy sadness, though, for I had just said goodbye to two good friends, when I had expected to be leaving nothing at all behind. I would miss them, and I was angry at myself for missing them all along.

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### Chapter II - Anna Errant

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LIFBAU IS A small nation. Three days of easy riding would take you across it at the widest point, and a day at the narrowest. I was a day and a half away from the capital, which was also called Lifbau. The city was my general destination. That was it, as far as the plans I told Andre I had.

I had intended to ride for two hours and then rest until dawn, but I went on for three. I rode for the sheer pleasure of it. There is no joy like that of anticipation, and in all the things I have done since I do not think I have ever been quite so high as I was that night.

Jupiter had caught something of my fever and was completely responsive, his fault being in over-eagerness, if anything. He sought the bit and yielded to it, arching his neck and prancing beautifully. Not many had mounts with as much spring in their steps. That night I do believe he was without peer.

Calmed by sheer fatigue, we walked the last half hour. I found a copse of bushes off the side of the road, not too close so we would not be disturbed by any very late, or very early, traffic.

I did not sleep. I was still too restless for that, and I was afraid that Jupiter would break away and run home. He rested well, however. I am sure he must have been tired from the workout.

I had not realized how cold a warm September night could be at three o'clock in the morning. My clothing was damp from sweat, and now I felt quite a chill coming on. I had put my only blanket over my horse, for he had sweated more than I. I shivered the night through, only just dozing off now and then. By sunrise my nose was stuffed, my head ached from lack of rest, and I was stiff from sitting still all night, but dreams of glory were still flashing through my head. I stood and fidgeted to get rid of the aches and itches, and started on my way.

I was not far from a town–one never is far from anything in Lifbau–and in no time at all I found a livery stable with a stall available for a few hours. I saw to it that Jupiter's needs were cared for and I strolled off to find my own breakfast.

I went into a bakery to buy a loaf of fresh bread, and to try out my new identity. It was a small place, but crowded. I moved around for a minute before approaching the counter, to give everyone a chance to see me. No one said anything, which I am sure they would have if they had guessed I was a girl. I moved up to the counter, where the heavy-set baker was gossiping with an equally heavy woman customer.

"I'd like a loaf...," I started to say, in a very confident and masculine way.

"A minute lad!" said the baker sharply, waving his hand at me. I smiled at him for calling me _lad_ , but he did not even look at me. "... the queen'll marry him any day now ...."

"Excuse me," I said, still smiling.

"I don't care when she'll marry," said the woman. "It's _who_ that worries ...."

"Excuse me!"

The baker slapped a loaf on the counter, and held out his hand for the money, still gabbing on about the latest royal rumor, which I suppose was more interesting than local gossip.

I tried to ask for some butter and milk, but it was pointless. He hardly knew I was there. I walked around for a while, and found a shop with a dairy cow, but though they sold me their goods, they hardly noticed me either. Nobody noticed me.

I know it was silly, but I was disappointed. I felt as if I should be noticed. I had very successfully become another person. It was quite an achievement. Of course, it was my very success that kept me from being noticed. To them I was just a boy, a gentleman by my clothes, and perhaps a bit too young to have a sword at my side, but nothing unusual, no matter how exceptional I felt. The fact that the world was not as enthusiastic as I was put me in a bad mood. I would prove myself if the chance came.

I stalked back to the stable, imitating a soldier I had once met after he had lost a fencing match and considered himself cheated. It was a fun role, and I threw myself into the character. I had worked myself into quite a jolly rage by the time I entered the narrow street which ran up to the back of the stable.

The street was made to look all the narrower by the three and four story houses which lined either side. Very little light got into it at that time of morning, and that suited it. It was a dark sort of place, with closed up shops, dirt, peeling paint, and small yellowed windows. Also fitting the street was a drab old woman who was being harassed by a young bully.

She was only trying to pass by, but the lad, who was about sixteen, would trip her or pull at her shopping bag, while his friends jeered. The bully was keeping ahead of her, walking backwards so he could face her. He could not see me.

This was my chance, I thought, a good deed and a touch of adventure. I gathered myself up and charged, shoving with both my hands on the small of his back. He went down on his face, his arms and legs sprawling.

"That should teach you to leave an old woman be," I said. He rolled over and got up. I changed my estimate of his age upward to seventeen or eighteen. He was big, and once he saw that I was not, he scowled.

"Hey, Squirt," he said, and he swung his fist at me. His scarred knuckles hit me square in the forehead. I toppled backward, falling on my right elbow and bruising it. I was dazed for a minute and I could not hear or see. My left hand went straight to my sword, but I hesitated in drawing it. The bully, after all, was unarmed.

The dizziness began to clear and I heard laughing. Four other boys, not so big as the first, but big enough, had joined him and all were laughing heartily at me.

"Look out," called the first. "His Majesty's drawing his sword!"

That got my temper up, and when I get mad I get blindly furious. I whipped out my sword and struggled to my feet.

"Oh ho, boys! Run, he's after us!" It was a great joke to them, but still they skipped out of range as I turned slowly around, watching them and facing any that came at me. The big one pretended to have a sword of his own, and they all poked imaginary weapons at me, while mimicking my fencer's stance. I slashed my sword across in front of them, and they all leaped back. I ran at them, swiping my sword back and forth as if it were a sabre. Half of them retreated to the safety of a doorway. I turned and saw the rest gathering. I raised my sword and chased them off with a yell, but the first group crept up from behind and hooted at me.

"Over here, Sir Squirt," the big one said, mimicking my movements.

I felt a whack across the back of my head, and I whirled violently to swipe at the retreating boy who had hit me, but I did not chase him, since another was edging up to the left. I pointed my sword at him, and he stepped back, in mock fear. The rest stayed back, but ready to close in.

I closed my eyes and wished I had minded my own business. This was not the kind of adventure I wanted. I could not see any way to triumph. I could not make them stop, and I felt silly making false lunges at any who came near. My elbow stung.

Keep your dignity, I said to myself. I drew a deep breath and looked around. The old woman had long since made her escape, and I had effectively cleared a path for myself. I drew myself up, trying to hide the shaking that had come over me with the lessening of anger, and sheathed my sword. I walked off with as much dignity as I could muster.

Whistles and catcalls sounded behind me, coming closer. They were following me. My whole body ached to turn around and look, or run. Dignity, I said to myself, you can win with dignity, so I did not turn and did not run. I wanted to see what they were doing. I knew it was probably nothing. They were just following. No need to look back and dignify them. It was best to ignore them.

The stable was not far away. I could see a bunch of loungers in the doorway, watching with keen interest. None of them had made any move to help the old woman or myself, but then, I did not want any help.

"Woo hoo! Let's see your sword again!"

I wanted to give that big one a cut across the face. Dignity, I thought. Keep cool. One foot in front of the other and you will be out of this.

Something hit my back. I felt my chest tighten up as I froze in anger. My passions were so high that for a minute I thought that I would either cry or kill somebody. The loungers at the stable began to laugh.

I could not help but turn to see what hit me, but I did it slowly, as if merely curious. They had thrown an apple at me. I stopped and picked it up. I would have taken a bite out of it, but it was badly bruised, so I just tossed it in the air and caught it. I turned away without looking at them and walked the short distance left, past the chuckling loungers, and directly to Jupiter, to whom I fed the apple. He ate it with a relish.

I had won. It was not much of a victory, and I did not feel triumphant, but I guessed I _had_ really won. This, I supposed, was what adventures were like in the real world, so I had better get used to it. I was still shaking. I hated being so emotional. I put my arms around Jupiter's neck until the trembling went out of them. I granted myself that I was tired. I was reacting to the high emotions of the night before, and for that matter, for weeks of planning.

I washed my face in Jupiter's water bucket and went to pay the stableman. He was busy with a harried but beautiful woman whose coach had a broken wheel.

"I must get to Lifbau this evening," she said with a very slightly accented voice. She looked worried, but her voice was commanding. I admired her control. My voice squeaks at the slightest hint of stress.

"There will be a coach in an hour," said the stableman. "That's as much as I can do."

"Oh, very well," said the woman. "I'll need to move my bags." She looked pointedly at the loungers. They had been closely watching the conversation, but now pretended not to notice her. They must have had their pockets full, for they ignored her even when she pulled out her purse.

"I'll get them," I said, and popped over to her side. The woman continued to regard the men thoughtfully. I thought I saw an odd look cross her face, a flash of emotion, perhaps anger or even fear. It was gone as quickly as it came. She turned away from the men and patted me on the shoulder absent-mindedly.

"Are you sure there is nothing sooner?" she asked of the stableman.

He said no, and I got the woman's bags from the carriage. They were only a pair of carpet bags, which surprised me, because she seemed the fashionable type. I was directed to put them with the other packages that were ready for the coach. She paid me, and I paid the stableman.

As I led Jupiter out, I noticed that the bullies were still on the street. I was still angry. I mounted and waited, looking at them. They must have thought I stopped in fear, for they gathered together and came toward me, grinning at the chance for new sport. In one fluid movement I drew my sword and urged Jupiter to a gallop, letting out a bloody yell.

Their faces changed from mocking to horror in an instant, and they scattered. The leader went left, so I went left, around him, cutting him off. I ignored the others to focus on him. I trapped him against the wall and held him there with my sword.

"Feel lucky you get off with your life, worm!"

It was a line from a very cheap novel, which I had read until it fell apart.

I wheeled around to salute the onlookers, but I was disappointed to see they were not watching. Most of them were gone, the rest were pestering some gentleman, for money I supposed. Their hands were out and their smiles were supplicating.

Triumph is no fun without an audience, so I let out another whoop and cantered by them, making a defiant salute with my sword as I passed. I thought I heard someone say something about a "pipsqueak" but I imagined it was said with some respect.

* * *

IT TOOK ME the whole of the day, and some of the evening, to get to the outskirts of Lifbau. We did not press too hard, because Jupiter was not used to running so long, and for that matter I was not used to riding so long. We found a shady spot and took a rest during the heat of the day. I managed a short nap, and we were off again.

Night fell and I dismounted to lead Jupiter for a spell. He needed a rest, and I sorely needed to stretch my legs. We were nearly in the city. Homes, farms and roadside businesses were close together now. Although I was still a good half hour from the gate of the old town, to all practical purposes, I was in the city.

Traffic had got heavier all day, but as darkness came it lightened somewhat. I left the highway to find it lighter still.

Stables and inns were plentiful along the road. I quickly found an establishment that served both humans and horses, and it even had a small pasture to turn Jupiter out.

I went to the stable first and saw to it that my horse was well cared for, giving him a thorough rubdown myself in gratitude for the hard work he had done for me. I then sought out the owner.

I found him in the dining room. It was a small plaster and beam room which doubled as a tavern and opened out on both the lobby and the street. I stood in the lobby door. The host came to me directly, but he was busy at the moment so he showed me to a seat to wait.

I was bone weary, but I hated to sit after riding all day. I leaned back in my chair and stretched my legs as far as they would go, taking in the atmosphere, and reveling in the mild excitement that had come on me upon reaching the city. It was as if nearby Lifbau gave off a radiance which I could bask in, and that, combined with my weariness, made me feel quite heady.

The inn itself had an atmosphere I liked. I noticed the smell first. It was the smell of age, but not of dust. It was scrupulously clean. There was no dirt even in the cracks of the tables, or on the underside; I checked to be sure. It was not brightly lit, but neither was it dark. I could see the innkeeper and his family thought themselves respectable people, but thrifty. Just enough light, no more. The room was dappled with bright light and half shadow. I began to feel the part of a gentleman traveller.

After some minutes the innkeeper returned and I asked for a room, a meal and some ale, and I informed him of the arrangements I had already made with the groom for my horse. He looked me over doubtfully before he retreated to prepare my order.

The customers at this tavern were few. There was a table of what I took to be regulars; farmers, shopkeepers and the like. Near the street door, seated at several tables together, was a noisy bunch of louts, which the looks of the regulars labelled as an infection on so clean and sober a place. I think they were aware they did not fit, for their boisterousness had an embarrassed, giddy quality to it.

That is, the self-consciousness extended to all except for one of them. He was a gentleman, dressed as for riding in a uniform so black I could hardly see its details. At his side were a sword and pistol, and no cap covered the thick wave of hair on his head. He had one booted foot on the table and was leaning back, gripping the wrist of a serving girl. She did not seem at all annoyed. She let him hold her arm as long as he liked while he spoke to her in low tones and she answered with a slight blush. He was a handsome man. He was young, perhaps twenty-two, quite tall and slender. He had attractive eyes, a long straight nose, a soft active mouth, all capped by that sensuous crop of hair. He looked like the sort of dashing man of action I would like to be. The girl was pretty enough, a little plump, and slightly older than I was.

I would have whiled the time before dinner watching them, but another man entered the room from the street, and his appearance startled me. I recognized him, though I could not place his face at once, and when he saw me he gave a violent start. Then I remembered him. He was one of the loungers I had seen at the livery stable that morning, a man of medium height, underweight, with blond hair that stuck out from his head like straw.

I raised my hand in greeting and gave him a half smile. He nodded and gave me no smile, just a suspicious look as he backed toward the louts by the door. I looked openly puzzled and I nearly got up to talk to him.

"Ilsa!" came a woman's voice sharply from the direction of the kitchen. I turned to see a heavy, middle-aged woman, whom I took to be the cook, or the innkeeper's wife, or both. She lumbered toward the serving girl and her beau. "Ilsa, I need you in the kitchen."

The girl turned hastily, but the young gentleman kept a hold of her hand, giving it a quick kiss before the woman snatched it away. As she bustled the girl past me I heard her speak sharply, but quietly.

"You stay away from him. That young man is a _viper_."

That young man must have had very sharp hearing, for he replied instantly.

"Did you hear that?" His voice rang out, rich and melodic, but not too deep. "She called me a snake!" He put his hand to his chest in mock astonishment. Then he threw back his head and laughed merrily. I liked his laugh.

"You just watch out," the woman continued, no longer bothering to lower her voice. "He bites."

"You listen to her, girl," said one of the rowdies. "She knows."

He laughed loudly as the woman shoved the girl out of the room. The gentleman, however, was no longer amused, and he gave his companion a backhanded whack on the chest. He took his feet from the table and dropped forward, all seriousness.

The rowdies were silent for a moment. Then, as the noise began to rise again, I remembered my puzzling friend from the livery stable. The instant the girl was gone I saw him slink up to the gentleman in black.

My friend took his hat off and whispered in the gentleman's ear, all the while keeping his eyes on me. The gentleman paid close attention and glanced at me once. He then leaned back and asked a question. The others leaned forward to listen to the fellow's answer, which turned out to be quite long.

How I wished I could listen in. I pretended I was not interested, and watched them from the corner of my eye. I did not really need to hear. I could tell from the smirks in my direction that he was recounting my morning encounter with those bullies.

The memory of that incident embarrassed me. It all seemed quite silly now. I felt my cheeks burn as I imagined each detail he told. I was certain he was telling my story in the worst possible light.

He talked at some length. Every so often he made a motion with his hand, as if grasping a sword and wielding it, and I sank a bit further in my chair. Then he grew grave and leaned forward. What he told them I could not guess. He finished with a nod. The gentleman looked up peevishly.

"And then what?" he said sharply. The man lowered his voice further to answer, and the gentleman crossly interrupted twice before he got an answer he liked. Then the gentleman threw back his head and laughed.

It was the second time I had heard him laugh that night, but coming so close on such tense whispering, it startled me. It was a wonderful laugh, ringing and uplifting, but also slightly frightening. It was a laugh I would hate to be at the wrong end of.

One look confirmed that I was at the right end of this one. He glanced at me and raised his glass, then he turned back to the man and shook his head, gesturing for the fellow to sit down. The man seemed to grow more worried at this and whispered urgently, but the gentleman dismissed him with a wave.

Whatever had startled the man had apparently been dismissed by his companions, but it still puzzled me. He must have been a madman who thought I had followed him there. It seemed as likely as anything. In any case, I was sure the man had told my tale badly, leaving out anything positive until the gentleman pressed him.

The innkeeper returned with my dinner. It was a huge meal he set before me, and I was good and hungry. Last of all he set down a mug, of milk.

"I ordered ale," I said.

"That's all you'll get here," replied my host.

"I won't pay for what I didn't order," I said, raising my voice slightly. I felt the need to prove myself after the tale the onlookers had just heard. Unfortunately, the pitch went up with the volume, and I sounded more childish than ever.

"Oh, give the lad what he wants," called the gentleman in black.

"You keep to yourself, or you and your friends can get out," the innkeeper called back. He turned to me and spoke sternly. "This is a respectable house, in spite of the riffraff by the door. You'll take what you get."

"Very well, if there's no help to it," I said very politely. The innkeeper was surprised. I was glad at that, for there seemed less strain in impressing him than in impressing the noisy fellows by the door, and my stomach was most impressed of all, when it at last was filled.

I ate every bit of food I was given, which was a good deal more than I ever got in one sitting as a lady. Then I walked, or rather waddled, out for one last check on Jupiter.

I gave him a light brushing and stepped out of the stable feeling light headed and ready for bed. I was secretly glad the innkeeper had refused me ale. I walked to the front of the inn and saw a one-horse cab stop. A woman stepped out. I could not see her well in the darkness, but I could see her look toward the inn and pause. The driver spoke to her. She rifled in her purse, and paid him. Then, once he'd driven away, she approached the building and came into the circle of the lamp light. She looked much the worse for wear, though she kept the demeanor of a lady. She looked determined, but tired and uneasy. As I looked on her face I saw who she was.

She was the lady from the livery stable, the one who had so urgently needed to get to Lifbau that evening.

* * *

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### Chapter III - The Mission of the Gentleman in Black

* * *

I WAS TERRIFICALLY tired. A part of me said that there was no reason why this woman should not be here, and that I should simply nod and continue on my way to bed. After all, she was probably not really the same woman, just a figment of my over-taxed imagination. All sorts of images from the day were swimming in my head.

Foremost among these visions was the look of shock on that man's face when he saw me. Again and again it played in my mind, like a rhythm, a drumbeat, a heart beat. It began to exaggerate itself and I feared I was forgetting something. Then a recollection surged in on the rhythm, imposing itself upon the first. The woman's face in the livery stable that morning when she looked at those lazy men. It had been quick, but it reflected the same emotions.

I withdrew further into the shadow, rather than come forth. I was awake again now, though it was the dazed wakefulness of over-fatigue. My mind was clear enough and I remembered all the trivial oddities about the woman, the livery stable, and the group in the inn. Something was up and I wanted to know about it.

She was a tall woman, of powerful build, with fair hair and pale skin. Her face was not nearly so beautiful as I remembered it. The strain of the day had stripped all youth and elegance from it. Her clothing, a rich blue traveling dress with black lace, was of the highest quality, but it was badly rumpled.

She did not enter the inn immediately. Instead she paused to look cautiously around. She walked back to the road, looking carefully in each direction. She seemed to be watching for something in particular.

While she was so occupied I heard the door of the inn open. The gentleman in black crept out quietly. He had a pistol in his hand and he was followed by his companions. I could see they meant the woman no good, which disappointed me for I had begun to like that gentleman, though I did not care for his friends.

The woman had begun to sidle back toward the inn, her head turned, eyes still on the road. I opened my mouth to shout a warning, but by then they were on her. She tried to run. Two of the ruffians pinned her arms, while the leader thrust his pistol in her face.

"No use in struggling, madame," he said, his voice as mellifluous as earlier. "It's not ladylike."

"I'll pay you to let me go," she replied, almost in a whisper, but her voice had carrying quality and I could hear her plainly. "I can pay you as much as he does."

"Oh, but he so very badly wants to see you!"

"He'll kill me."

"Nonsense. Well, he might. But if he wanted you dead, you'd be long dead by now." He wagged the gun in her face.

They started to drag her toward the road, but from the end of the street sounded a clatter of hooves and wheels, and the murmur of two or three voices. The kidnappers halted and listened. The sound was coming nearer.

I saw the leader gesture to his men, and the majority of them congregated beside the road, like a drunken group deciding which tavern to head for next, while a few disappeared altogether.

The leader and one other took the woman back into the shadows. I withdrew behind a rain barrel. They came to a stop quite close to me, within easy lunging distance of my sword. I began to draw the weapon ever so slowly.

The leader's face was turned away from me, his attention focused on the approaching carriage. All I could see was his slender silhouette, poised like an alley cat, with simultaneous ease and tautness. The gun wavered, and now it pointed at nothing.

My sword was out and I sprang, jabbing the hand that held the gun. The man let out a yell of surprise and dropped the pistol. He wheeled around, wringing his bleeding hand, and looked for what had stung him. His cohort jumped in surprise too, and the woman wriggled loose and fled, screaming, for the carriage. He went after her, calling to the others and trying to stop the scream, but it grew and carried, as if the woman had had some practice.

The gentleman in black remained where he was. His startled look had become a handsome scowl, a look that played right into my fuzzy, romantic state of mind. I moved out of the shadow cautiously and deliberately, and around toward the road to cut off his escape, but he showed no signs of attempting an escape.

"Ah, the pipsqueak," he said as he got a better look at me. He was angry, but entirely at ease. He glanced once, calmly, toward the road and the commotion. I dared not look for fear of a trick. "Well," he said, "it's time you learned something."

Before I could so much as blink his sword was out and he was attacking me. I had injured his right hand, but now I discovered he was left-handed, like me. I jumped back as his sabre flashed by, an inch from taking my nose off. I was not used to fighting a left handed attack, and I barely parried his next cut, which I felt against my shoulder even as I stopped it. I was an excellent fencer, or at least it had always seemed so. Now it occurred to me that my past successes may have been a big joke by the men who had taught me. His blade came so fast, I could barely see it in time to parry. I had to manage by dodging, and still each cut seemed to snag me here, or just graze me there. His blade swept by my ear, singing with vibrations. I scrambled backwards, out of his range, my feet slipping on the gravel. His reach was long; I could not hope to develop my own attack without coming inside it.

His face no longer looked becoming. It was murderous, and frightening in the poor light of the lamp. I began to feel like a very small boat, while he raged at me like a typhoon.

You wanted adventure, I said to myself, here you are, full into it, and not likely to survive the night.

I lost my balance, only for an instant, but that was enough for him. He made a wild leap at me. My feet could not move fast enough, so I stumbled. As I fell, I thought that there was nothing for it but to run, if it was not already too late. I let go of my sword and when I hit the ground I rolled and began scrambling on all fours.

He grabbed my belt with his left had, still holding his sabre too, and hauled me back. He kicked me over on my back, pinning me to the ground with his foot on my stomach. He raised his sword high with both hands, point down, and waited a second, sneering at me. Suddenly he jerked it higher and plunged it downward. I let out a scream, not like the lady had, but a pretty good one. The sword never hit. He stopped it an inch from my chest, and started chuckling.

"A bit of advice, lad," he said quickly. "When fighting a taller opponent, it's useless to stay outside his distance. Get in there, boy, where it's harder for him to maneuver." He dashed away, scooping up his fallen pistol as he went.

The fight had not lasted long. I sat up and found myself in a ditch along the road, about fifty yards from the carriage, which had come to a stop. It was a closed coach with four horsemen in attendance. The woman had not reached it, and I caught a glimpse of her as the leader helped one of his men drag her into the shadows. The others were occupying the horsemen with a convincing simulation of a drunken riot. In a moment, however, a whistle signaled them and they scattered, chased ineffectually by two of the horsemen.

I pulled myself to my hands and knees. During the fight I had not noticed the hurts I received, but now they made themselves known. I felt as if I had had a bad fall from a tall horse. The palms of my hands were skinned. I had a bruise across my left hip and buttock from my opponent's kick. A muscle was stiff and sore in my back, though I could not remember from what. On top of all this my elbow decided to sting again from its morning injury.

I stood and limped toward the carriage and its two remaining attendants, which I could see now were wearing green uniforms. One of them trotted over to me.

"Are you all right, lad?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I answered, stooping to pick up my sword. He dismounted and looked me over. He was a tall, broad man, an officer I thought from the braid and decoration on his uniform. I was not good at telling one rank from another.

"What happened here?" he said. "Are you a friend of that lady?"

"No sir. I just tried to help," I said. "They kidnapped her."

"That is what I thought. I couldn't see for certain." He shook his head with regret. "We were hoping you may know why or who."

"No, sir," I said, "but I know they'd been tracking her all day."

"Come with me, son," he said, putting his arm around my shoulders. "I want the colonel to hear this."

He lead me to the carriage where the other man, the colonel, was leaning down from his horse and speaking with the occupant of the coach.

"George," said my companion. The colonel looked up and rode to us. He was a smaller man than my companion, though just as broad. He was older, around the half century mark by my estimate. He had the most luxurious mustache I have ever seen and his graying hair, which curled from under his cap, was slightly longer than I would expect from a military man.

"Well, Johan?" he asked eagerly. Johan shook his head.

"He's only a bystander," he said, "but I think he knows something."

The colonel dismounted and patted me on the shoulder. "I saw you out there," he said. "Brave lad."

"Stupid lad," I said. I was beginning to feel the sting of embarrassment at having been so soundly and easily beaten.

"Oh a bit outmatched," granted the colonel, "but you showed spunk, boy. What is your name?"

I very nearly said Anna, but I caught myself. "Albert," I said.

"Well, Albert, do you know the lady those fellows just carried off?"

"No, sir... ."

"Damn. Do you know any of the villains?"

"No, sir, I had only just seen them in the inn while I ate my dinner. The innkeeper may know them. I have _seen_ the lady before though, sir, and one of the men."

"When?"

"This morning ... ."

Here I was interrupted by the return of the other two soldiers. They reported that they had been unable to catch the miscreants. The colonel ordered one of them to the inn to question its inhabitants.

"Colonel Bartleby," a woman's voice called from the coach before I could restart my tale. The colonel went and spoke a moment to her. I wondered at the English name. The colonel had no trace of accent.

"Is he English?" I asked.

"English grandfather," whispered Johan curtly, as if there were some shame in it, but he had a trace of amusement in his voice.

"We're to head back," said Bartleby on returning to us. "Where do you live, boy?"

"I have a room here for the night, sir."

"In that case, save your money. You're coming with us." Colonel Bartleby began to turn away, as if the conversation were done.

"Pardon me, sir, but you haven't asked if I wanted to come."

"Nonsense, lad. This is important, and I haven't time to finish questioning you here." He mounted his horse again, and Johan reached down to help me up on his.

"But sir," I insisted. "I have my own horse to worry about, and I couldn't make him go another step. And I still have to pay for the dinner I've eaten."

Bartleby shook his head impatiently and turned to the other soldier. "Kraus, go settle the boy's account, and see to his pony, will you?" The soldier saluted and trotted off to join his companion in the inn.

That was the end of any objection I could have, and with that I climbed up behind Johan. We rode through the town for over a half an hour, while I wondered about my companions. The carriage had no crest or mark upon it, but the passenger must have been someone important to give orders to a colonel and to have four horsemen in attendance. Lifbau, since it was so small, was a very familiar nation. Attendants were few, even to the royal family. Perhaps she was out in secret.

Presently we arrived at the palace, which confirmed my thoughts on her stature, and came in through the stable entrance, which strengthened my suspicions about secrecy. I did not catch enough sight of her when she left her carriage to learn anything else, for Johan's broad expanse obscured my view.

I was also falling asleep, which did nothing for my thoughts. My mind could not settle on anything, except the fact that I was puzzled and my seat was numb from too much riding.

Johan reached back and pulled me from my perch, for which I felt extremely grateful. I was limp as a rag doll, and he grabbed my elbow, the sore elbow, to keep me from falling. I let out a moan and wiggled free, falling sharply to the ground on my rear, which was also bruised. The double pain brought me awake and my thoughts and memories sharpened quickly.

"If this is the cost of adventure, better that I'd have stayed home," I groaned, climbing to my feet. Johan laughed.

* * *

A FEW MOMENTS later I was seated in a room in the palace. It was a nice room, but obviously not one of the royal salons. It was a businesslike room, with a desk, chairs, and a fireplace, but still fitting in grandeur to the palace. There was fine carving on the fireplace, and the draperies were sumptuous. It was rather small, though, and on the floor above the guard rooms.

In the room with me were the colonel and Johan. Both stood before me, looking appraisingly at me as I sat on a little stool.

"Do you know who we are?" asked the colonel at last, fussing at his mustache with his right index finger.

"You are Colonel Bartleby, and he is Johan," I said, adding a shrug to indicate I knew nothing more.

"I am Colonel George Bartleby, Master of the Royal Guard," he said.

"Oh," I said, in a tone to show surprise and enlightenment.

"And this," he added, turning to Johan, "is the Marquis von Furlenhaur."

I had heard of the Marquis of Furlenhaur. He had the double advantage of being one of the wealthiest men in Lifbau, and of being well known and liked for his good nature and courage. He was often spoken of in the same breath as the queen.

"Your grace," I said, wishing I had paid closer attention to my lessons in manners. Just how did you address a marquis?

The marquis laughed and patted me on the shoulder. "By God, it looks like we've properly impressed him, George," he said. He turned to me and added, in a conspiratorial whisper, "Johan is fine with me, in private, but you'd best keep calling him Colonel Bartleby."

I liked the marquis, and it was gratifying to see that he liked me in return. Perhaps he would be my key to adventure, if he would allow me to tag along behind him. His great stature made me think of the lady in the carriage.

"Sirs?" I said. "Pardon me, but was that lady in the carriage the queen?"

They looked at one another and the marquis said, "Yes," while the colonel said, adamantly, "No."

"Oh," I said. "I won't say anything."

"It's not that it's a secret, lad," the colonel hurried to say. "It is simply that ... ."

"I understand. The queen has enemies." I did not know what possible use what I saw could be to her enemies, but I wanted to sound at least a little sophisticated. "I only want to know what happened."

"You know more than we do, Albert," said Bartleby. I doubted that. "We appreciate your loyalty. Now, tell us your story, particularly where you have seen that poor woman before."

"Well, this morning I had just left from Halzig," I began.

"Halzig?" said the marquis. "You must have left _very_ early."

"Oh, I did. Anyway, in a very small hamlet at the edge of Halzig, I'm not sure of the name but it's on the main road, I saw the lady. Something was wrong with her carriage and she had to buy a coach ticket to get to Lifbau. I helped her with her bags."

I told them about the loafers in the doorway, and I described both the lady and the fellow whom I had encountered again that evening. My listeners gave no sign of recognition to my descriptions. They seemed to grow more puzzled as I spoke, and they asked me a thousand questions I could never answer about names and destinations.

I turned to a description of the events at the inn. The two men before me seemed to sink further and further into an agitated depression. The colonel sat down quite close to me and stared with an unpleasant intensity that made me feel like a criminal rather than a witness. The marquis took to pacing the room with his hands clasped behind him. He did not look at me, and he gave no sign that he was even listening.

"Describe the leader again," ordered Bartleby.

"He was tall."

"How tall?"

"Not quite so tall as the marquis, but nearly so. He had black, thick hair ... ."

"A mustache?"

"No. He was dressed all in black, and like a gentleman. He was very slender."

"How slender? What did he weigh?"

"I'm not very good as guessing weights," I said. "He was slender enough so that no one would argue that he wasn't, but he wasn't skin and bones. He was slender like a sapling. Or perhaps he was more like a spider... ."

"Damn it, lad, comparing the man to an insect doesn't help me. Describe him properly."

"Take it easy, George," said the marquis, stopping his pacing. "Can't you see the boy is tired? He's nearly falling off his chair."

"I'm sorry, Albert, but the description you've given me could fit a dozen men."

"Yes," said the marquis. "But I think we could narrow it down through elimination. How many of them would be kidnappers? And of a woman with a message for the queen?"

"A good many of them," said Bartleby angrily. I let my head droop down in weariness, not listening to what they were saying. "He might not even be someone we know. That may not have even been the same woman!"

I let out a yawn. "I'm sure the innkeeper knows more than I do. And the cook."

Bartleby looked at Furlenhaur, but the marquis shook his head. "Fritz told me the innkeeper hadn't seen them before. The cook knew even less."

"She told the serving girl that he was a viper," I said. "She must have known him."

"You're sure of this?" asked Bartleby, as the marquis stepped out the door and hollered for Fritz. I nodded my head and dropped my chin to my hands, eyes closed, while the marquis' raised voice mingled with the subdued sounds of the guard. After a moment he reentered.

"Fritz now thinks the cook may have been evasive. He'll talk to her again tomorrow," said Furlenhaur. They then spent some time arguing about the situation. Their voices faded to a hum, which drifted across my mind. My body began to drift too, as I slipped to the floor with a thump.

The marquis lifted me to my feet, saying, "Sorry, Albert, we got involved."

Bartleby said something about a room in the stable. I wondered if I were going to be forced to sleep on my feet, like a horse, in one of those narrow little standing stalls.

* * *

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### Chapter IV - A Few Rumors

* * *

WHEN I AWOKE I was glad to find myself lying down, in a bed. I was in a tiny room, not much bigger than a stall. There was enough room for a very narrow bed, a chest and, of all things, a full length mirror at the foot of the bed. I sat up and was shocked to see the battered little boy that looked back at me from the mirror. His hair was sticking out in all directions, his cheek was skinned, his expression was hollow and frightened. It was only when my muscles began to show their painful stiffness that I realized he was me. The look of fear changed to curiosity as I pulled myself up to get a better look at me.

I made a very good boy. Nobody would suspect this creature was a young lady. I was quite dirty from my roll in the ditch, and my shirt was torn in three places. No, not torn, slashed. I examined the holes closely and I was certain they had been made during the duel.

I felt embarrassment at the memory of that sword fight. The whole thing had been a grand tease. It was obvious to me now. The rents in my shirt showed that he could have hurt me if he had wanted to. Instead he chose to frighten me, and beat me, and that he did.

The sound of hooves on cobblestone reverberated outside my window. It was a small window, high up, and I stood on the bed to see out. I looked on a large stable yard, with several horses being led by. I assumed I was looking from a stable, for it smelled like one; sweet and dusty. There was another stable across from me, and beyond that I could see the rooves of the palace.

The yard, I soon realized, was actually a court, bounded on four sides by long stables. The buildings were of stone, and each had an arched walkway on the inner side, making an elegant colonnade around the yard. It was the largest stable I had ever seen, but then, I surmised the palace must have somewhere to put all the horses of visitors, guards and the like.

I hopped down from the bed and stepped into the hall. I was at the middle of the south stable. I was surprised to find little activity there.

To my left the building was almost empty. There were horses in each of the three loose boxes, but the long row of standing stalls, each with a wrought iron divider, marble manger, and well drained dirt floor, all were empty. The other side, however, was three quarters full, and I heard the sound of human voices. To this direction I turned.

A man in the green royal livery popped out of a stall near the end, cursing and slamming the stall door. He was a heavy man, though not obese, with his excess weight centered primarily on his belly.

"Hans! Hans, damn you!" he shouted. A skinny, pockmarked boy came scurrying in from the yard. "Do I have to look after everything myself? I told you to look after that horse. He bit me, damn him."

Hans looked at the stall with dread and slowly slunk toward it. The man examined his arm closely as he turned away and walked briskly toward me. I went to greet him. He stopped when he saw me, scowling.

"Who the devil are you? What are you doing here?"

"The Marquis von Furlenhaur gave me that room to spend the night in," I said, in a polite but forceful voice.

"Oh, did he now? He didn't tell me about it."

"It was very late," I said.

"Well, you've had your sleep," he said abruptly. "Get out."

"Where can I find the marquis? To thank him?"

"The marquis has better things to do than waiting on the likes of you."

"Well, thank you anyway."

I left the stable. The man was a snob and I did not like talking to him. I realized that in my present state I was unlikely to get into the palace, so I went to the guard house to find Colonel Bartleby. There I learned that he was out, and would not be back until afternoon.

I had a change of clothing in my saddle bags, and I thought I might look more presentable mounted on Jupiter, so I asked the guard for directions to my inn, and set out on the hour-long walk to get there.

* * *

AS I WALKED back to the inn, it came into my head what a marvelous position I might be in. Here I was near the palace, having practically met the queen. I was never one for history, and our governesses never taught it to girls anyway, but I did like Queen Christiana. A lot of people did not like her, and nobody had expected her to become queen four years earlier. She had several brothers ahead of her, but they all died together in an epidemic, along with the old king. Most people expected the king's brother, Prince Hugo, to take the throne. He was not particularly likable, but many thought he should rule before Christiana, because she had been married off to the Arch Duke of Kertia, which you may not have heard of, since it is even smaller than Lifbau, and does not exist any more anyway, since it is now a part of Austria-Hungary. Christiana's husband was dead now, however, and her son ruled in Kertia, so she came back to us. Hugo was not fast enough in grabbing the throne, but he was powerful, and he disputed it. He nearly had Lifbau in civil war for about three years, but now things had settled down. Hugo could not get rid of her, and I had heard rumors that he was trying to repair the rift between his faction and hers. The latest rumor was that Christiana might marry Hugo's son, Duke Sigmond of Kirsau, for the greater good of Lifbau, naturally.

And now I had a way into this situation. To be involved in the intrigue of court, and to serve the queen, however lightly and incidentally, at the age of fourteen, was both thrilling and dampening on my spirits. I had an underlying sense of failure, that all I had done so far was to make a fool of myself. It was a creeping, sneaking emotion that had always seemed to plague me. The rapid and intense events of the day before made me feel it sharply, and I think it was made even worse by the fact that I was happy, really happy, which always tends to worry me. It made everything feel especially urgent. I had failed in my first adventure. Certainly I had been exhilarated by it, and my behavior may have been considered praiseworthy by Bartleby, but I had proved nothing, either to myself or to others. I was unchanged by the experience, and dissatisfied. Due to my sex, this could easily be my last adventure as well as my first. I _had_ to seize this opportunity. I _had_ to prove myself. I _had_ to change. I think, somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought that if I did it right I would, somehow, be transformed into a man. I would wake up and no longer be a small and unfeminine female. I would look, I suppose, like the marquis, tall and big and an easy match for the slender Gentleman in Black.

The thought of new opportunities banished any sense of gloom, and I was bright and perky as I went first to the stable to greet my horse. Jupiter was glad to see me, but sluggish. He shuddered and grunted as he moved aside for me to enter his stall, raising his head up and stretching. He was stiff from the previous day's work and I began to give him a quick rubdown to get him going.

The groom, a cadaverous old fellow, with wispy hair and no teeth, wandered idly into the next stall and began fussing with its occupant, and eyeing me curiously.

"Hear a soldier o' the queen's guard paid your bills last night," he said conversationally, but ill concealing his itch to know what happened.

"That was nice of him," I said. I went on brushing Jupiter. His coat was gleaming. "Did you give my horse a hot mash like I ordered?"

"Oh yes, sir," he said quickly. The night before I had hardly rated speaking to. "Hot mash for dinner, and I was about to turn him out in the paddock for you just now."

"Thank you."

"I hear you were in on the excitement last night. What happened?"

"Oh," I said casually, gesturing with my currycomb. "A bunch of ruffians kidnapped a lady. I tried to stop them, but there were too many."

"Yeah, I knew they were up to no good." He gave up the pretense of working and leaned on the dividing boards. "I took one look at them, and I _knew_ it. So. Go on."

I gave him an account of the incident. I did not think he was much interested in accuracy, so I embroidered the details freely. I left out the part about having seen the queen's carriage. He was not having any of that.

"What about the palace guards? How did they come into it?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said, shrugging. "They were just riding along the road. They tried to help too, of course, but they didn't know what was happening."

"And for lack of anything better to do, they paid your bills for you. Ha!"

"Not exactly," I said, as if I missed the sarcasm. "There was a nobleman with them and _he_ paid the bills. He wanted me to come with him and tell him what happened. He was very rich and he was in a hurry. He was just throwing his money around." The man's interest had begun to wane, but at the mention of money it came back stronger than ever. He actually winced when I mentioned it, perhaps because he had not been there to get any.

"It was strange," I continued. "Nobody seems to know who any of those people were. Either the lady or the ruffians. Not even the leader. I'd have thought the innkeeper or his wife would have known something, but I guess they didn't."

The groom harrumphed indignantly.

" _You_ wouldn't happen to know any of them, would you?" I said, still keeping a conversational tone, though it was not easy. "The leader, perhaps? You might have seen him around."

"I might have," he said with a hinting tone. "And the mistress might have too." He turned away and started fussing with the horse in his stall.

"What?" I said. I slipped under Jupiter's neck and climbed the boards between the stalls, hanging half over in eagerness. "What do you know?"

"They should have asked me in the first place," he said, pouting a bit. "I could've told them a few things, and a lot more than they'd say up at the house, that's for sure."

"Tell me, please!" I said, swinging one leg over and sitting on the top rail.

He laughed and said, "You're too young to hear about those kind of things."

"Oh, come, tell me." I had to beg him a bit longer, and he just kept his back to me and shook his head. Then suddenly he leaned close to me.

"Well, I will tell you the mistress has seen that gentleman before, and I'll tell you that he's no gentleman. He wasn't even a man the last time I saw him, more of a boy. And I'll tell you one thing, the mistress has a very good reason for not wanting her husband to know." Now that he had decided to speak, words came flooding out as through a broken dike. Unfortunately he seemed to prefer innuendo to fact.

"What happened?"

"You're too young to hear it," he declared.

"I bet I know. I can tell. It was adultery."

"More like childery. A woman of her age with a nasty young whip like that!"

"How long ago was it?"

"Oh, four years ago maybe ... ."

"He wasn't so very young, then."

"Compared to her he was. Yes, it was four years ago. Right around the epidemic, when Hugo came and took charge."

"What is his name?"

"I don't know. Only saw 'em together a few times. They were always sneaking off someplace. Shameful, it was. And he wasn't really interested in her. Out for trouble if you ask me. He did it just to blackmail her. _I_ think he was blackmailing her just now, too."

"Why?"

"Sheer wickedness."

"No, I mean why do you think that?"

"Well, she didn't say a thing to the queen's soldiers, now did she?"

"And you never saw anything to tell you who he was?"

"Nope. Guessed he had money, may have been a nobleman–he did always come from the way of the palace–but he was no gentleman. That's all I know."

"Thanks," I said, and hopped out of the stall.

"Wait!" he called. "Just tell me who was that gentleman what paid your bills?"

"The Marquis von Furlenhaur," I turned and said.

"Really?" He eagerly came out of the stall.

"Absolutely." I dashed off before he could pump me the way I pumped him.

* * *

FROM THE INNKEEPER I bought a late breakfast and an half-hour's use of the bath. The water was good and hot, and soothing on my sore muscles. I discovered, on closer inspection, that I was not so battered as I thought. I was merely very dirty. The removal of the dirt and the soaking of my body left me in fine shape.

I put on a clean shirt, and pants, and polished up my boots. My old shirt was near a total loss, yet I hated to throw it out. I had so few shirts. I thought perhaps it would make a good work shirt, if I mended it. I did not like mending, but I also have a miserly streak that makes me save things I should not. In the end I sat beside the paddock where Jupiter was grazing, busily, and sloppily, mending while watching the traffic go by.

It was not a very travelled road, at least not at that time of day, but presently I heard the clop of hooves. One horse, at a trot. I did not look up, for I was concentrating on my mending, but a voice hailed me.

"Albert!" said the rider. It was the marquis. He was mounted on a tall gray, a different horse than the night before, and he was without his uniform. He was dressed in a quiet riding costume, a bit elegant, perhaps, but it suited him better. The uniform, when combined with his size, made him look rather too imposing.

"Hello, sir. Johan." I added the last quickly, on remembering that he had given me permission to be familiar the night before. He gave me a pleased smile and jumped off his horse.

"What are you doing there?" he asked. I stood and displayed the shirt. If anything, my mending had made it worse. I had somehow got my stitches crooked, and it was totally misshapen and wrinkled. The marquis began to laugh.

"I was mending it," I said.

"It looks like you need a woman's hand there," he said.

"Uh, yes. I suppose," I said, embarrassed. He did not know that I was a girl, but I felt like a dismal specimen in front of him all the same. If I could not succeed at what I was, how could I hope to succeed at what I was not?

"Don't worry about it, lad," said the marquis, putting his great arm around my puny shoulders. "We'll find some girl or other to fix it for you. I've been looking for you, Albert. Why did you leave the palace?"

"The stableman kicked me out, and I couldn't find you."

"The man's an ass!" he said quickly. "I should have found you a place in the palace, but I didn't want to wake anyone up."

"Oh, that's all right, sir," I said. "The room was very comfortable, and I'm very fond of horses."

"Are you, now?" The marquis seemed delighted to hear it. "Well, that's good. I wanted to talk to you about that." He put his hands on the pasture fence and looked out across the field. It was a small field but he seemed to be looking beyond its limits. "Where are you from?"

"Halzig."

"That's right. You told me last night. How did you come to be traveling here alone?" He turned to look beyond me. His words were clipped and businesslike, but his voice was quiet, almost shy.

"I'm seeking my fortune, I guess," I said. "Or, not exactly. I'm out on an adventure. A little one. I told my mother I'd be back by Christmas." By Christmas I would be known in any case.

"Out to see Lifbau."

"Yes."

"Perhaps you'd like a job, an easy one, while you're here."

"Yes, sir?" I did not want to commit myself yet, but this looked like an opportunity to stay with my adventure.

"We'll be needing extra help around the stables, what with the engagement party coming up." He raised his eyebrows at me.

"You mean Her Majesty and Duke Sigmond?"

"That's the one."

"So they're really getting married?"

"As far as we know," he said quietly. "We'll be overflowing with guests, you see. If you want to see things, right there at the palace would be a good place to start."

"I think I'd like that, sir," I said. "But I'd like to be sure and have free time to, well, to be free."

"I can see to that, but you'll have to work for that silly ass of a stableman. I can't do anything about him. He does his job, and everybody else seems to like him."

"I don't mind," I said, grabbing my bridle from the post where I had hung it, and scrambling under the fence. "Just let me get my horse."

Jupiter did not want to come. He let me catch him all right, but he would not let me bridle him. He was not a tall horse, as horses go, but I was pretty short. I needed his cooperation. The marquis came up behind me as I struggled and pulled the bridle up over Jupiter's ears.

"Thank you, sir," I said. He only nodded, running his hand down Jupiter's flank. "He's usually much better. He's just balky after that long ride yesterday."

"A fine animal," said the marquis. He glanced quickly at me and grinned. "I was expecting a little pony, or a plow horse."

"A plow horse?" I said indignantly. "I'll have you know that his father was Chronus, and that his grandmother was Cacophony."

The marquis' manner had changed. The slight diffidence disappeared and he looked down at me inquisitively.

"Where did you get such an animal?" he asked.

"My father," I said, looking away. Why did I have to brag about my horse? The last thing I wanted was to get into question and answer with him.

"Who is your father?"

I had a complex story made up, but now I felt uncomfortable relating it.

"I ... I don't know, I mean, nobody in particular." The words just fell out of my mouth. I pretended to adjust Jupiter's bridle.

"Ah," he said. "You'd rather I not ask."

"Yes."

"We'll talk another time." I suppose I had made him curious. His tone told me he was not going to make up his own explanation, and he was not going to let the subject drop.

I had hoped that he would think I was an orphan, or at least fatherless, and that would be that. Now I was worried. Perhaps he thought I had stolen Jupiter. I had stupidly told him the horse's background. If he checked, it could get back to Aunt Elfie's stable where it would be noted that Jupiter was gone. I did not know what story Andre had come up with to explain his disappearance, but whatever it was, they would be sure to want to know who this Albert character was.

He might also think that I was running away without permission, which I was, but he could still trace me through Jupiter. I would have to remind him, several times, that I was returning home at Christmas.

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Chapter V - The Royal Stableboy

* * *

THE PALACE WAS an ideal place for a boy to spend his time, and was even more so for me, who had to get an entire boyhood into three months.

The old castle, upon which the rest was built, was at the south end and it was this part that overlooked the stables. It was very old, made of massive stone, with battlements and slit windows, but it was quite small. It had once had a moat, though very little of that was left, just a small section which had been drained and made into a sunken sporting ground. There upon the smooth green lawn people would play croquet, and often gentlemen would practice fencing.

Behind this, to the east, was the huge square stable. There was room, by my inexpert estimate, for a hundred horses, perhaps less with the carriages.

The main part of the palace extended north from the old castle, and it was very elegant and modern, though the architect had gone to great pains at the north to echo the style of the old part at the south. In the north end were the kitchens, and behind it, echoing the stables, was the kitchen farm. It had milk cows and swine, and poultry, but it also had a wider array of exotic fowl and a fish pond.

Extending eastward from the palace complex was a great park, which went all the way into the countryside. It was meant mostly for riding. The former king was very keen on horses, and the park had a number of paddocks and several long, challenging cross-country trails through its woods, all set up so that spectators could see most of the action.

When I arrived that day, following close on the man I had chosen as my mentor, the marquis, I had only a vague idea of all that. It was simply very large and very magnificent.

A boy ran up and took the marquis' horse for him. The same stableman whom I had met that morning hurried after him.

"Herr Bloch!" Furlenhaur said. "I want you to meet this young man."

Bloch glanced at my horse and bowed graciously, taking hold of my bridle.

"How do you do, sir? May I take your horse?" he said, his voice all sweetness. He turned and raised his hand to signal another boy. The marquis began to chuckle.

"No, no, Bloch," he said. "This is your new stableboy."

Bloch withdrew his hand hastily and looked at me more closely. "You again," he said grumpily.

Moments later I was in the stable, the same wing in which I had awakened that morning. My sour-faced employer pointed to a stall.

"You can put your beast in there," he said. "For half a day's work, _every_ day, you'll get room and board for you and your horse. You'll get paid for any other work you do, but you'll do it when it needs doing, not when you please."

"That sounds fine to me, sir," I said as I came out of the stall, lugging my saddle and pack.

"I don't care how it sounds to you," Bloch blurted out furiously. "I don't like people who don't stick to their proper places. You made a fool of me out there. I don't care if you are a nobleman, or an up and coming young rogue. Or a friend of the marquis. You're a stableboy now and you'll get no favors. And I'll take no trouble from you either."

"Yes, sir," I said with such servile enthusiasm that it took him aback. He scowled at me. Then he turned and yelled "Hans!" and walked away.

The skinny boy I had seen that morning came running and Herr Bloch jerked his thumb at me and left. Hans just stood and stared at me. I stood where I was and waited, my saddle and pack still in my hands. He seemed at a loss for what to do.

"Hello," I said. "I'm Albert."

"I'm Hans?" he said. Suddenly the spell was off him and he dashed over to my side. "You're the new stableboy?"

"That's me."

"Oh, well, glad to meet you?" he said, taking my arm and leading me down the aisle. "You'll probably be staying in this room down here, then?"

"I know where it is," I said. The boy was very high strung. He was constantly moving, bobbing, twitching, and everything he said seemed to have a question mark after it. I wondered if Bloch's bullying would have me in such a state after three months. Of course, it was possible I would drive Bloch to distraction instead.

Hans stood in the doorway as I put my things in the little room.

"Herr Bloch is my uncle," he said.

"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry for you."

"Yeah." He fidgeted until I was finished.

"What do I do now?" I asked, putting my thumbs in my pockets.

"Muck out stalls," he said, grinning a little. He had begun to settle down. "That's mostly what we do around here."

* * *

I WAS IN very good physical shape–Andre's training and my own nature had seen to that–but I had never cleaned a horse stall in my life. It was not at all the sort of physical exercise I was used to. It was slow, tedious, and heavy. First I had to shovel the manure onto a large piece of sackcloth, then gather the corners and lug the whole bundle out to the manure pile. I had to toss the manure onto the pile, holding on to the corner of the cloth so it would not get lost in the muck. There was quite a trick to getting the muck on the pile and not everywhere else. I goofed up my first attempt and spilled half of it on the brick yard.

"Clean that up!"

I turned to see Bloch pointing a finger at the mess.

"I was just going to," I said. He stayed while I ran to get the broom, and he watched me as I carefully swept up every trace. I grabbed my muck sack and started to go.

" _Where_ are you going?" he asked.

"To clean the next stall?" I said, stumbling to an uncertain stop.

"You are not finished here," he said, pointing to the pile.

"Oh?"

"Stamp on it."

"Oh," I said, regarding the pile. Well, my boots were already dirty, so I obediently climbed to the top of the pile, which was not very high, and began stomping. When it was suitably compacted I climbed down again and looked at him. Bloch was not looking at me. He was looking peevishly at the ground. I looked down too and saw a few pieces of manure had fallen off the pile while I was stamping. I went to get the broom.

* * *

"OH, MY BACK," I groaned as Hans and I made our way across the yards to the kitchen for lunch. We were later than the other boys because, until I came, Hans had worked alone in the forth wing of the stable.

"You'll get used to it," said Hans.

"The question is, will I get used to your uncle?" I said. "Boy, he's a real stinker."

Hans laughed a quick nervous laugh, a habitual laugh I had learned. "He sure is. Ha ha. A stinker!" He shook his head. "I hate him. Boy do I hate him."

"Why do you work for him for then?"

"What else can I do?"

I shrugged and he pulled me up to the kitchen door. It was a large double door, divided horizontally, with the bottom closed, and the top lashed back like a shutter. Hans leaned over and gave a yell above the busy clank and clatter inside.

"Halloo! Ingrid," he called. "We've come for our dinner!"

I leaned in too. The door was wide enough for both of us, but I had to jump up on it since it was high. Inside was a very large kitchen with a whole row of stoves along one wall, and an open hearth opposite. There were two long work tables at the center, and about a dozen people working around them. I had seen a bigger kitchen. My father had it at his estate–my parents being the social kinds of beast, they needed a large kitchen–but I had only seen a little of it, and that in the off season when it contained only one cook and a maid.

In response to Hans' call a maid detached herself from the bustle and came over, grabbing a bundle wrapped in a napkin. She was a big, healthy girl, about my age, with yellow hair and faint freckles.

"What makes you so late all the time, Hans?" she asked, her light tone showing that she already knew the answer.

"Too much work," said Hans, hopping nervously from foot to foot. "But we won't be so late anymore. This is the new stableboy, Albert."

"Hello," she said. "I'm Ingrid."

"Hello," I said.

She stood for a minute, arms crossed, appraising me.

"Ingrid?" came a shrill voice from behind her. "You're going to need another lunch for the new boy."

"Oh, yes," said Ingrid, glancing furtively and moving back into the kitchen. "Yes, ma'am."

A tall robust woman of late middle age walked up, drying her hands. She held her head high and bore herself with such elegant dignity that, had she not been dressed as a cook, a stranger would certainly mistake her for the queen.

"Frail little thing, isn't he?" she said, looking at me.

"Frail? Ha ha ha." Hans rattled out a laugh. "You should have seen him handle Sea Sprite!"

"He's not so hard to handle," I said. Sea Sprite was a biter, but I had met horses like him before. "All you have to do is know how to hold your elbow so he bumps himself instead of bites. I'll show you how."

"Can you show me how to hold my elbow to fend off my Uncle Wil?"

"You must be underfed, then," said the majestic cook, looking at me as if my thinness were an insult to her personally. "Ingrid," she called shrilly. "Is there any of that duck left?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Give them some of it. And some extra cheese, or some fruit." The cook drifted back to the center of the kitchen and began giving cross orders to the staff at large.

Ingrid hurried over with two napkin-wrapped bundles.

"Lucky you," she said. "She's decided to fatten you up, and you'd better believe she will."

"Great," said Hans. "I never get enough by myself. I'm always hungry. I'm nervous, you know," he added, as if he were enlightening me on something.

In the park, behind the kitchen barn, we found a large tree on a small hill. Under this we sat and ate our lunch. In the napkins Ingrid had wrapped a small loaf of bread, a very large hunk of moist light cheese, an apple, and a leg of a duck, which was greasy, but flavorful from the sauce it had been cooked in.

We did not say anything while we ate. I was hungry, and I adore food, and I adore eating a lot of it. After a while, though, Hans slowed down and wiped the duck grease off his fingers with a piece of bread.

"I'm afraid of horses," he announced.

"It's a fine job you've got then," I said through a mouthful of cheese. I swallowed quickly. "Afraid of horses, and hating your uncle."

"He's afraid of horses too."

"And he's head stableman?"

"Sure, he just makes others do the work," said Hans. "My father said that he was always that way. He always takes the credit for what other people do."

"Why do you work for him then?" I asked again. "I would think you could get _some_ other job."

"Papa thinks that if I work here long enough I'll learn enough about training horses so that he can breed ponies and sell them to rich people with children. All I've learned so far is how to keep a stall clean, but Papa won't listen."

He bit into his apple and stared dismally at the lawn where a small group of riders galloped about.

"What do you want to do?" I asked.

"That's what Papa keeps asking, but I don't know. That's the problem. They say I just like to talk. I also like to listen sometimes, but mostly talk."

"I don't mind listening," I said. "So talk. What do we do around here other than muck out stalls, or is that it?"

"That's most of it, especially for you, because you only have to work in the morning," he said. "Later my uncle will want you to work more, because we'll be busy. Parties and things at the palace, so there'll be guests. Then we have to hold horses, saddle 'em, and bridle 'em, and unsaddle and unbridle, and clean tack, and there's never enough help to do it all."

"Sounds exciting."

"Does it ever," he said unenthusiastically. " _Some_ people are nice. Like the Marquis of Furlenhaur. He always brings his horses in cool if he can help it, and if he ever makes you go to any extra trouble he pays you for it. His horses are well mannered, too. You know the marquis, don't you?"

"Yes," I said.

"Uncle Wil said you're friends or something," he said, looking at me closely. "Are you rich? You don't have to work here, do you?"

"Well, sort of," I said, not sure which question I was addressing. "I guess we have enough money, but I'm on my own just now, so I don't have much. What about Colonel Bartleby?" I asked suddenly, to change the subject. "How is he with the stableboys?"

"We don't work for him," said Hans, glancing back at the stable. "He has soldiers take care of his horses, but he gets after us if he sees us doing anything wrong with a horse. He isn't bad, though. It's the guests that are the worst. And between you and me, the nobler they are, the worse they are. They come in at a full gallop, frightening all the other horses, and just throw you the reins, expecting you to cool him down for half an hour, even if you are already holding two horses. As often as not the horses bite and kick, and you get in trouble if they hurt each other, or the tack. Personally, I prefer cleaning stalls."

I got up and dusted the crumbs off my pants and looked down at my boots. "With all this mucking around I'm going to have to get another pair of boots," I said. Hans bobbed to his feet.

"I'll show you around," he said.

"Later. We ought to get back now. I want to get my work done...."

My attention was drawn away by movement along that road that bounded the south side of the park. It was quick movement, blocked from my view by trees, but in a moment the distant figure of a horseman appeared, riding at a full gallop.

"That's what I mean," said Hans, looking at him also. "No consideration for us or the horse."

"Maybe he has an urgent message," I said.

"I doubt it."

"Do you know who it is?"

"Not at this distance," he said as the figure disappeared behind trees again. "I don't think it was one of the palace people. Maybe he's not even going to the palace."

"Come on, let's go see," I said, shaking out my napkin and hopping over a tree root. Hans followed, but he seemed to lack enthusiasm.

* * *

THE HORSEMAN HAD already arrived when we got to the stable. One of the other stable boys, a blond boy whom I had not met, was walking out the blowing horse. The animal's head hung down to his knees. It's rider was deep in conversation with Bloch, but almost as quickly as I saw him he turned away and bounded for the palace. He was in grey livery which looked almost like a military uniform.

"Hans," I said. "Who has grey livery?"

"Prince Hugo," he said. "Why? Was that what the man was wearing?"

The blond boy led the tired horse near us. He had freckles and a smirk.

"Guess what, Hans," he said. "Your favorite person and horse are coming for a visit."

"Who?" stammered Hans. "Not Viscount von Stenbau!"

"Along with the rest of Hugo's troop," said the boy, leading the horse on. "We're going to be busy."

"Oh, no," groaned Hans. "Well, you get to start off your job seeing everything. They're the worst of the lot. Come on."

He headed into the stable quickly and I followed. He dodged into the tack room and emerged with two green jackets. "You had better put this on. Uncle Wil likes to see us in full livery when the aristocrats are around. I guess the jacket will do until we get you fitted out with a full uniform."

He slipped into his jacket and I noticed that his pants were a matching green, with silver piping up the side. When he had buttoned up and fastened the collar he looked very smart. He was tall, and the uniform's cut made him look broader and more substantial.

"Say," I said. "You don't think there's an extra pair of pants in there with the jackets, do you?"

"Well, yes there are, but I doubt they would fit," he said as I jumped past him to have a look. "Listen, you don't really have to wear it. My uncle prefers it–in the trunk, silly–but it's pretty informal out here. People who come out to the stable don't expect us to be all dressed up what with the work we do. It's out front that we have to be all spic and span."

"Is there a cap to go with it?" I asked, rummaging through the trunk. There were several pairs of pants, but most of them were much too big.

"Yeah, there is. It's kind of a silly one," he said, wiggling as if his clothes itched him.

"Where?" I asked, pulling out the smallest pair of trousers I could find and holding them up triumphantly. Hans smiled at me in amused disbelief. "Well, everybody else has got a smart looking uniform, why not me too?"

"You won't look very smart if it doesn't fit," he said, pointing across the room to a shelf of caps. He was right. They did look silly. The cap itself was all right, but fastened to the front of the brim were two grey plumes. They stuck straight up in a frilly V with a bouncy curl at the tips.

"Looks like a lady's riding hat," I said. Hans giggled.

"Uncle Wil says it adds dignity."

"Well. I'll just add a little more dignity," I said, and I pulled the plumes out. The little knob that was left still looked silly, but not nearly so obvious. "I'll go and change into these." I lifted the pants and dashed off.

Safely shut in my room, I stripped and tried on the livery. The trousers were too large, but with the help of a belt it did not look too bad. The jacket was long enough to conceal the worst of it, and the pant cuffs were hidden in my boots. The only trouble was a bit of bagginess around the knees.

I was nervous. I supported the queen, but that did not stop me from being excited about meeting Prince Hugo. He was, after all, _the_ Prince Hugo. I looked in the mirror and carefully adjusted my cap. Hans burst in without knocking. I noticed he had a cap on now, and without the feathers. He did not say anything, but he glanced at me and went to the mirror to adjust his own cap.

"You say it looks smart?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," I said. "Especially on you. Yours fits."

"Not that it matters," Hans said, looking back at the mirror. "We can never look too sharp for Uncle Wil, and nobody else will notice."

"Somebody might. Maybe Hugo."

"Oh, yeah. Hugo."

"He's pretty bad, you say."

"It's not really him," said Hans. "He rides in a carriage usually and doesn't come back here. It's the people with him. They won't really be so bad, though. Not for you. It's me who it's rough on. Hugo's got this nephew, Tybalt von Stenbau...."

"That viscount you were talking about."

"Yes. He hates me, and his horse hates me too. Every time he comes he seeks me out, because he knows I'm afraid of his horse."

"Point him out to me and I'll take the horse first," I said.

"He won't let you. He hates me." Hans gave me a resigned smile.

"We can try," I said. "Maybe we can shake _him_ up a little."

"If you really want to," said Hans. "I won't complain. The horse is dark grey, kind of unusual because it doesn't have any dapples. Just solid color, with a black mane and tail."

"Is it really that awful a horse?"

"No worse that Sea Sprite, probably. But Tybalt makes it hard by giving a lot of instructions, and I guess once I let him run over me the first time, he just plain won't obey." Hans shook his head.

* * *

FROM THE GATEWAY of the stable yard we could see a number of carriages and horsemen approaching. It was a large group, though at that distance and angle I could not see how many carriages. The whole speeding mass made a lively clot of motion on the roadway, with the carriages trundling and horsemen darting in and out. It was moving very fast, too fast for the people who were beginning to gather along the street. Then it passed from my view as it entered the center of the city.

"That's all we'll see," said Hans. "The carriages will go to the front, and only some of the horsemen will come back here."

"Quite a show, though," I said. "So many. They must be coming to stay a while."

"If you're courting a queen, you do it in style." He let out a short laugh and ran a finger around his collar.

"What have you heard about the wedding?" I asked. "Is it certain?"

"Well, there are still only rumors," he said. "There's been a lot of visiting back and forth, but as you say, it looks like Hugo, and Sigmond and the rest of their lot are here to stay. I bet there will be an announcement very soon, or none at all."

"Maybe while I'm here," I said.

"You're not staying?" he said, looking around quickly.

"Only for a while," I began to say. A loud clatter of hooves interrupted me.

"Here they are now," said Hans. A small group of horses entered the yard, making more clatter than their number seemed to account for. "There. That's the one."

I turned in the direction Hans pointed and ran to take the bridle of the tall, slate grey horse, which was the one making most of the noise. I stopped short, however, when I saw the rider. His lean form swung down gracefully, in spite of the animal's stamping and shying. It was no other than the Gentleman in Black.

My hand took the cheek piece of the bridle, of its own volition, for my mind was too stunned to command it. The rider turned and reached out a gloved hand to snatch it away. The glove was bulky, as if it had a bandage under it.

"Where's that other boy? I want ... ." He stopped as he saw my face, his mouth open in surprise. Then he closed it and smiled. "Hello, Pipsqueak."

"I have a name, sir," I said. "It's Albert."

"Oh, I beg your pardon. Albert. Of course." He said it with half a grin and half a look of mock seriousness. The horse threw its head up and backed off. I went with him, for it was useless to try to pit my weight against his.

"See here," said the rider. "I don't want you snatching at his mouth with the reins. Take him by the cheek piece. Oh, so you have."

When the horse saw that I was not going to fight with him, he relented to a few gentle tugs and I led him back. The rider rocked back on his heels and played with his riding crop. He was still dressed in black, but now he had on a long grey overcoat with a black fur collar. He wore a cap too, which was pushed too far forward. He nodded thoughtfully as I came back to him.

"See to it that he is well walked out. He's had a hard ride. Loosen ... oh." He paused as I reached back to loosen the girth. "When he's cool give him plenty of water, but be sure that it isn't too cold. I want it tepid." He started to turn away and the horse laid back his ears, baring his teeth at me. I had, at least, control of his head and he could not bite me.

"Sir? What's his name?" I asked.

"Regis," he said, turning back again to face me, "because he's nobler than anyone here." He shot a glance at the palace. "Excepting me, of course." He paused to look me up and down. "Somebody get this boy a proper set of clothes," he said loudly. "His pants are falling down."

He turned heel and walked briskly away. My pants were not falling down, but I was embarrassed all the same.

I was not sure what to do. I had to report this to the marquis, but I also had this horse to care for, a horse which was ardently trying to follow his master. I pulled gently on him, and after a short battle I had him walking forward at least, though not entirely in the direction I wanted.

Since the culprit already knew I recognized him, and had not yet run away, and as I had his horse, I decided that it would do no harm to finish my work before I sought out the marquis.

Regis was very uncooperative for the first few minutes. He planted his feet suddenly and even gentle coaxing would not budge him. Then he exploded into a stomping fit and while I was occupied with his feet, his head snaked around, teeth bared. He hit me in the hip, but he did not bite because he snapped his head away too quickly. I took a hold of his snaffle rein to get more control. I did not care what my orders were, and I had no intention of snatching at the animal's mouth. The animal's mouth, however, had every intention of snatching at me. He bit at me again, at my arm, taking a mouthful of sleeve and tugging. He paused, one ear coming forward.

"You're all bluff!" I said to him, and he laid back his ears again. I scratched his forehead and called him a silly boy. The ears came up and he started walking. I think he was too tired to play anymore.

We turned in our circuit to walk in the direction of the palace. I looked up at it and saw, on an upper balcony, a slim dark figure leaning on the balustrade. He was watching me. I did not know how long he had been there, and I stopped. In a moment two women came out and spoke to him, and he went in with them. I turned to Regis and felt his chest. He was cool enough, and I felt a sudden urgency to see the marquis.

* * *

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### Chapter VI - The Villain's Explanation

* * *

I STOWED REGIS safely in a stall with a bucket of water which was, if not tepid, at least not cold from the pump. Hans, knowing the instructions by heart, had filled the bucket beforehand and left it to warm in the sun.

I heard that the marquis was in the old moat and I ran to its edge to look. There were many people on the sunken green lawn, all well dressed ladies and gentlemen. They moved about constantly, talking, greeting one another, coming and going. I walked along the stone edge above them, trying to pick out the large shape of the Marquis von Furlenhaur. It was more difficult than I thought it would be. I suppose I had expected him to stand out, but everyone was standing out. They were all overdressed, particularly the gentlemen, many of whom were in fine dress uniforms of grey or green.

I saw the marquis at last, in a corner with three ladies. He slouched politely in his chair as if to appear no bigger than they were. The four of them were watching the other people and one of the women was speaking to the marquis, who leaned far over so that she did not have to go to any effort to reach his ear.

As I knelt to climb down several people came and stood below me. It occurred to me how all these formal looking people would stare if I bounded down in the midst of them and tore across the crowd. Their expressions would be a good deal like Aunt Elfie's always was. I looked at the marquis, who was now leaning low in the other direction to another lady. Those ladies might be important. One of those ladies could even be the queen.

The moat wall went nearly around to where the marquis was sitting. I crept along it until I was just looking down on his head. I cupped my hands around my mouth and leaned out.

"Psst," I said, very quietly.

He did not hear me. I repeated the sound two or three times, but he was listening too closely to his companions. I began to wave and psst louder, and I wondered if I ought to risk creeping up to him quietly through the crowd. I might not attract attention if I was careful.

Then a fourth woman approached, distracting him further from me. She was a very tall thin woman of about fifty, though she had a youthful and attractive face, which looked slightly familiar. She raised her pince-nez quickly and looked at me.

"My dear Furlenhaur," she said sharply, "there's a small boy hissing at you from the top of the wall."

The marquis and his companions turned to look at me, then he bowed and excused himself.

"Albert," he said. He had been smiling lightly at the ladies, but now he looked serious. "What is it?"

"I saw him!" I said.

"Who? One of the kidnappers."

" _The_ kidnapper. The leader. He's here now."

"Where? Who is he?"

"He brought his horse to the stable. They said he's a nephew of Prince Hugo."

"Tybalt!"

"That's the name."

"I should have known." His hand went to his chin and he looked down thoughtfully. "This could be trouble, Albert. We'll be dealing with Hugo here, not just a kidnapper. Did Tybalt see you?"

"Yes, sir. I took his horse."

"And he recognized you?"

"I'm certain he did, but he didn't seem to care."

"Over-confident as usual. Probably counts on his uncle for protection." One corner of his mouth went up in a sly smile. "That could be an advantage. There is a limit to how far Hugo will go for the sake of family reputation. If we go to him with absolute certainty...no doubts." He raised an eyebrow at me.

"There's no doubt," I said. "It's him. He recognized me too. Look, there he is."

The marquis turned. Tybalt was strolling across the lawn, whistling, behind an older man who looked as if the whistling hurt his ears. They approached the ladies which the marquis had just left.

"All right, Albert," said the marquis. "Well done. I'll take care of it from here."

He straightened up and went to them. The group had drifted farther away, and I skittered along the wall to get as close as possible. The marquis was bowing to the older man and as I got closer I heard him say, "your Highness."

So that was Prince Hugo. He looked terribly old, much older than the three score and some years he was supposed to be. He had a magnificent white beard, neatly trimmed to flow out across his chest and come to a point at the end, like a lion's mane. The face above it, however, made it a toothless lion. It was a sagging, unhealthy face, and his coloring was not right. In spite of the overall limpness, though, there was a tightness around the mouth and eyes that gave it energy.

When the greetings were over, the prince turned away to speak with the tall woman, and the marquis drew Tybalt aside.

"Oh, hello, Furlenhaur," said Tybalt brightly. "How is the state of Her Majesty's affairs, hm?"

"Stenbau, what has happened to your hand?" said the marquis with reserve.

Tybalt raised his bandaged right hand. "This one? I'm afraid it got bit by a very small rat," he said, glancing up at me. Here the tall woman broke in loudly, without even looking away from her conversation with the prince.

"If you spent less time in gutters, you wouldn't be bothered by rats. Small or otherwise."

"But mother," Tybalt protested, not looking up either. "Then I would see less of you."

"Better yet," she replied.

The marquis looked slightly disconcerted. He took a breath and set his jaw.

"Stenbau," he said directly. "I demand that you produce that woman at once. She had better not be harmed."

Tybalt looked blank. "Which woman is this?"

"It's no use pretending. We have witnesses to what you did last night."

"Oh, _that_ woman. Last night."

"What's this?" said Hugo, turning around. "What has he been doing? What have you been doing?"

"Your nephew was involved in a violent abduction last night."

"Abduction? Abduction?"

"It's nothing, Uncle," said Tybalt.

"You do this on purpose," said Hugo.

"Of course he does it on purpose," said the tall woman. "How else do you abduct people?"

"You _try_ to make difficulties for me," continued Hugo.

"And I succeed," said Tybalt. "But really, uncle, it's not so bad. There _are_ more pressing threats to the family than this. Honestly."

They looked at one another, and Hugo frowned a little, as if he had just remembered something.

"Scandalous," he announced to the marquis. "Simply scandalous. We'll have to do something about this."

The marquis then began talking to the both of them in low tones. I cold not quite hear what he was saying. I leaned out as far as I could, cupping my hands behind my ears.

"Albert!"

The harsh call from behind surprised me and I toppled forward. Something grabbed me by the collar, and hair, and yanked me back on my heels. It was Bloch.

"You're hired to do a full half day's work," he said. "You've only done three quarters of a half day's work."

"I had a message to give to the marquis," I said.

"Oh? The first time I've ever seen a message given with ears." He shoved me toward the stable. "Get going."

"Certainly, sir," I said. "I was just going to."

* * *

I FINISHED UP my work by giving several of the horses a rubdown, as I should have, for Regis at least, in the first place. I worked over my time and I earned a pfennig, plus a few more in tips. I was beginning to think I might do pretty well for myself.

Regis, I discovered, had no end to bad habits. He was most particularly a stall crowder. Time and time again he edged his big body over to crush me against the wall. I soon learned that this was a game, and that my part was to yell and wave my arms. He would then jump to the other side of the stall and roll his eyes. More than this, however, he loved the curry comb. The horse lived for a vigorous rub to the underside of his neck or the center of his back. It made him my slave. Until I stopped and went on to something else, and then he would start his crowding trick again.

"Your master won't be coming back to you," I said to him while brushing his face. I was sitting on the manger and he nibbled at my knees. I had to watch out or he would sneak in a bite. "At least I think he won't. Unless Hugo can get him out of this, which I don't think he can. So you'll be left in your stall, poor horse, and I'll be left without an adventure."

I sighed. It was hard to believe that it was already over. I supposed wickedness must meet its reward, but did it have to meet it so quickly? My whole adventure had lasted less than twenty-four hours. Then I felt guilty as I remembered the poor woman suffering through all this.

I slipped out of the stall when I was finished and bumped into Hans. He had changed his livery for a well worn jacket and a patched pair of pants.

"I'm going home now," he said. "I'll see you in the morning. Uncle Wil's already gone home. At night you work for Philip."

"Who's Philip?"

Hans nodded his head down the corridor to a short young man in his late thirties. Philip had a broad build, though he was lean. His hair was black and his quick moving eyes were yellow brown. He leaned against a stall post and looked at us with a sly grin.

"By day I'm an ordinary groom," he said, raising his eyebrows. "But at night I awaken like a vampire to become ... a head stableman!"

"A vampire stableman."

"That's right," said Hans. "Well, I've got to go. Goodbye."

Hans left and Philip regarded me with amused curiosity.

"So you're Albert," he said. His mouth was crooked, as if in perpetual indecision about whether to break into a full grin or not. "Tell me, what have you done to Wilhelm Bloch?"

"Nothing," I said.

"He's taken a dislike to you."

"I know. But I haven't done anything except be myself." Sort of.

"Ah, well, that's the ultimate sin, ain't it?" He swung around slowly, reaching out an arm to pull me along. "Come on, kid. I'll show you to your grub."

Grub was not the word for the fine meal the cook had prepared for us. Philip had a rather large apartment, considering it was in a stable, above the north wing. It was there that we four live-in stable boys, along with Philip, ate our dinner. The cook had sent up soup, a potted chicken, hot potatoes, and bread, as well as some left over teacakes and cold salmon. The cook thought she was going to fatten me up, but I ate everything I could, and still wanted more. If anything I was going to lose weight.

I was very tired, but when I went to bed I found that my mind was more excited than ever. I laid in my bed, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, and listening to the wonderful sounds of snorting and hoof stamps. Dozens of horses, dozens and dozens, and though a lot of them were ill mannered, all of them were wonderful. It was perfect, and I did not really care if my first adventure was over, this was an adventure in itself.

* * *

THE DEW WAS heavy on the grass and there was a sparkly sheen across the park in the sunrise. Jupiter and I trotted steadily in a large figure eight. The grass was still slippery and I could not go out on the cross-country trails, but there was a well beaten area of dirt on which I gave Jupiter a good workout. I slowed him to a walk and let the reins go loose. It would soon be feeding time and people were getting up. I turned Jupiter toward the palace to make a tour of the grounds while we were still alone.

I ran my hand along the back wall of the building. I had not realized how textural it was. The old part was rough hewn with deep wedges of rock, and the new part covered with finely, and deeply, carved moldings. Some of the windows had no draperies and I looked in, but it was too dark yet to see anything.

As I came to the last window along the back side, and intently looked into that one too, I heard voices from around the corner.

"Good God, Mother, no," the voice rang out with a laugh. I sat up from the window so suddenly I startled Jupiter. It was Tybalt's voice.

I rode around to the edge to look. Tybalt was strolling along the wall with the tall woman I had seen the day before leaning on his arm. She had a cross look on her face.

"I suppose she is ravishingly beautiful," she said petulantly. "In a common sort of way."

"Who _are_ you talking about, Mother?" said Tybalt.

"That tramp you're so enamored of."

"You are the only tramp I love, Mother. Or were you referring to Claire?"

I could see no sign of anyone else on the ground, no guard, no one watching. They were completely alone and Tybalt was apparently free to do what he wished.

"No, no," the old viscountess was saying. "I'm talking about that other dreadful woman."

"How do you know she is dreadful?"

"Of course she is. You have no taste. How else would she be?"

"You can see for yourself. I'll bring her to you."

"You will not! I won't see her."

"Suit yourself. Ah, look Mother, there's Alfred. Hullo Alfred!" he called, waving at me.

"Albert!" I called back. His mother was struggling with her eye glasses and at last she raised them to stare at me.

"Oh," she said. "It's that creature that hisses at people from walls. I don't like things that hiss. Send him away."

"Good bye, Alvin," call Tybalt and he turned to hiss in her ear as they strolled on to a door and into the palace.

I found myself half smiling and half frowning. What was he doing loose? It must have been Hugo's doing, or some threat to the poor woman. I felt a slight foreboding, and also a twinge of excitement. If he was free then there must be more yet to happen.

Jupiter shook his mane impatiently and pulled toward the stable. It was time for his breakfast. Reluctantly I let him go, and turned my attention back to work.

* * *

IT WAS A very busy morning, but once I got into the rhythm of if all, the work moved quickly. Hans and I worked together very well, so well that, even though Bloch seemed to spend most of his time supervising our part of the stable, he could find very little to gripe about. Eventually he left us alone.

By late morning I was working in Sea Sprite's stall. I liked Sea Sprite, even though he was a downright vicious stallion. Where Regis made a game of biting people, Sea Sprite made a profession of it. He disliked people, and was not about to put up with any nonsense from them. I liked his attitude, and I got along fine with him. I minded my own business, and let him mind his.

He was a handsome horse, with a really fine vivid red coat, black legs with white socks, and a white snip on his nose. He was a perfect example of a Lifbauan Blood Bay, our unofficial national breed, excepting that the Bays were supposed to be remarkably good natured.

I was brushing that fine coat, as we regarded each other suspiciously from the corners of our eyes. Philip came up and looked in on me.

"Hello, Albert," he said. Sea Sprite put back his ears and bit the door in warning that two people in his stall would be beyond enduring. "Hello, Sprite. How are the teeth? They want you up at the palace."

"Me? Or Sea Sprite?"

"They don't want him."

"Have I done something wrong?"

"They sent an armed guard for you." Philip shrugged and looked back into the corridor. There was a soldier behind him, one of those who had been there the night of the kidnapping.

As we walked back to the palace I asked the soldier what had happened.

"They've found the woman," he said.

* * *

HE LED ME up the back stairs of the palace, not to the little room above the guard house, but to a large, more elegant hall. He stopped at a door and went in. Then he came out and sent me in.

The room had a high ceiling, very high, which was blue and had little swallows painted on it, as if it were the sky. My eyes followed the moldings down, past the rich draperies to the floor. It was not a big room in any dimension but up, and it was crowded with overstuffed furniture, and people. There was the marquis, and Colonel Bartleby, plus Prince Hugo, Tybalt, and another woman and man whom I did not know, and at the center of them all was a woman with her back to me. She was wearing a blue traveling dress, decorated with black lace. Tybalt nudged her sharply as soon as I came in, jerking his head in my direction. She turned quickly and smiled at me, nodding her head in greeting. I bowed.

"Hello, madame," I said.

"Well, Albert?" said the marquis. "Is this the woman you saw at the inn?"

"Yes, sir," I said, but I had to look at her again. She looked quite the same as she had that night, but the stress was gone from her face and she looked younger. She did not look as romantic or exciting without the worry, and that was what I most remembered about her. She looked rather bland in the light of day.

"Are you sure?" asked Bartleby, who must have caught my hesitation.

"Of course he's sure," cut in Tybalt. "The woman herself told you so. Even I admit I kidnapped her. What is the fuss?"

"I'm quite sure," I said, looking again at the woman and nodding. I could see no difference except attitude. Tybalt grinned so quickly that I looked again to be sure. The marquis frowned.

"So you see, Furlenhaur," said Hugo. "It is all a simple misunderstanding."

"Well, _I_ certainly don't understand," said the marquis.

Bartleby turned to the woman. "This man assaulted you in public, and you make no complaint against him?" The woman shook her head as if tired of answering questions. "Why not?"

The woman looked surprised, and confused, and she looked at Tybalt, who broke in impatiently, stepping between her and the colonel.

"Really, Bartleby," he said. "Can't you see? This was neither an assault nor an abduction. It was merely a lover's quarrel. You know how it is. I was jealous, and...a little drunk. I thought she'd left me for another man. I chased her all the way up from Halzig, and waited where I thought they were meeting. Foolish, I admit, for now she really has left me. Darling...." He turned around and shook his head sadly at her. She was not paying attention. I saw him reach over and give her a quick pinch on the arm. I do not think anyone else saw it. She glanced up at him, startled, then dramatically turned up her nose and looked away with an elaborate sigh. The gesture looked as if it had been plucked directly from the stage, and Tybalt looked cross at her. "You see, she's not even speaking to me."

She was acting. I realized that could be what was wrong, why I was not sure of her. I wondered if they had threatened her to force her cooperation. I think the marquis suspected the same thing, because he stepped between Tybalt and the woman.

"Is this true?" he said gently. The woman nodded. I could not see any sign of fear in her, just a sort of tired indifference. She almost looked bored. The marquis looked closely into her eyes and studied her face. She pulled back with slight embarrassment.

"Honestly, sir, it's exactly as he said. You don't need to examine me so closely."

Tybalt had reached around to poke her and give her a warning look, but it was too late. I had heard. The woman's voice was thin, high pitched and weak. It was not at all the voice I had heard that night, nor the morning before it. It was not the same woman. The hair and the dress were the same, and the face had a remarkable resemblance, though I now saw that this woman was much younger. The voice, however, was completely different. That other woman's voice I would never forget. It was strong and rich and beautiful. This woman's voice was irritating in its contrast to it.

"What he did to me was very nasty, but I'll forgive him," she chattered on, "if only to be rid of him. After all, His Highness is making it up to me, and I can use the money... ."

Tybalt was no longer listening to her. He was staring at me. His smile was gone and his look was thoughtful, and threatening. He must have seen my surprise.

"Well, I guess that's that," said the marquis, his back to me.

"That had better be that," said Bartleby.

"I'll see to it," said Prince Hugo. "There'll be no more of this sort of thing."

"Well, I suppose there is no longer any reason for you to stay," the marquis said to the woman. "Thank you, madame. You may go."

"Sir...," I started to say. Tybalt was across the room in a blink. He gripped my shoulder so tightly it hurt.

"We must thank you too, Albert," said Tybalt, giving my shoulder a painful squeeze and pushing me toward the door, "for going to the trouble to come and identify this lady."

"Albert is a very helpful boy," said the woman. "I want to thank you again for helping me with my bags, and trying to rescue me, of course. So gallant of you."

"Well, you must get back to work now," said Tybalt. "Wouldn't want to upset Wilhelm Bloch."

The two of them nearly had me out the door. Then Bartleby stepped up. "I'm going that way myself," he said. "I'll go with him."

The colonel took hold of my arm. For a moment he and Tybalt looked at one another and I thought they might try to pull me in two. Then Tybalt smiled pleasantly and let go.

"Of course," he said.

* * *

ONCE WE WERE out in the hall the colonel glanced around to see that we were alone. He bent down eagerly.

"Well?" he said.

"What, sir?"

"What made you change your mind? Tybalt and I both saw it. Your face changed in an instant. Now tell me, what did you see?"

"It was what I heard," I said. "That wasn't the woman. That wasn't her voice."

"You swore it was her."

"It looks like her, and they dressed her up the same. But it wasn't her. The voice was not at all the same."

"The voice, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"I thought so," he said, slapping his leg. "I thought so. Well, let's go to my office and wait for Johan."

* * *

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### Chapter VII - Council of War

* * *

WE WENT TO the room in which I had first been questioned. Bartleby went straight to his desk and sat behind it, thoughtfully pressing his thumb against his lips and staring out the window. I pulled aside the little stool and sat in the morning sunshine.

In a moment the door burst open and the marquis entered, looking puzzled. He closed the door and paused, hand still on the knob, and looked back and forth between us.

"What did I miss?" he said.

"That wasn't the woman," I said quickly. "They substituted another that looked the same but talked different."

"What?"

"Apparently Albert was struck by some quality in the real woman's voice," said Bartleby, "and this woman made a very poor comparison."

"Ah," said the marquis. "But what was that tug of war business between you and Tybalt, with poor Albert in the middle?"

"Tybalt saw him change his mind, " said Bartleby. The marquis sat down on the edge of the chair to listen and leaned one elbow on the desk. "I don't know what he was trying to do. Perhaps just trying to delay Albert from saying anything. Make it look like an afterthought, as if he wasn't sure."

"He may have succeeded there," replied the marquis. He put his chin on his hand and regarded me for a moment. "How was her voice different?"

"The real woman had a very rich and melodic voice," I said.

"By your own account you didn't hear much of her voice. Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Voices can change with mood. How do you know that the change wasn't a matter of her being so distressed then and calm now?"

"Voices go up in distress, not down," I said, my voice going up some itself.

"But some voices get rather deep, and even melodic, when they get hoarse."

"She wasn't hoarse."

"But she might have been. And you are a rather imaginative young lad."

"It was not her!" I said, standing up. "I'm not making it up."

"I believe you, Albert," said the marquis, patting the air. "I'm just playing the devil's advocate, and you can be sure _that_ devil's advocate will ask much harder questions. Now sit down, that's a good lad. Let's look at what they have on their side. A reasonably respectable adult woman who will swear she is the one, plus the admission by Tybalt that he committed the crime, against that particular woman. Nice little sleight of hand there. And they have Hugo's weight behind them."

"They also have a very plausible story," cut in Bartleby, "considering Tybalt's reputation."

"On our side," continued the marquis, with a nod of acknowledgment to Bartleby, "we have a rather young boy who thinks the voice is different, although he has already positively identified the woman as the victim. An imaginative boy who is looking for excitement, and has run away from home–don't think I didn't guess, Albert–and whom Wilhelm Bloch, that fine upstanding royal stableman, has already labelled as unreliable."

"I'm not," I said.

"Doesn't matter what you are, only what he says."

"Did you get a chance to speak to the queen?" asked Bartleby. "What does she say?"

"She wasn't satisfied, even without knowing about this voice thing. However, she thinks it would be more valuable to let them think she is satisfied."

"I agree with her," said Bartleby. "No point in hurling accusations all around, when we can keep an eye on them better this way."

"And we have the woman's life to think of, if she is alive."

They both nodded and thought.

"I wish I knew whether Tybalt is working for Hugo, or if this is some mischief of his own," said Bartleby.

"We know he's working for somebody," I said. They both looked at me as if I had popped out of no where.

"What?" said the marquis, startled.

"When he kidnapped her they were talking about someone else, remember? Or didn't I tell you that?"

"I think you did," said the marquis. "She was afraid that some mysterious 'he' would kill her."

"She said she would pay Tybalt to let her go," I said nodding. "But he said someone wanted to see her. I think. I can't remember so well now."

"Combine that with the note, and I'd say he's working for Hugo," said the marquis to Bartleby. The colonel nodded and they both smiled. I rested my elbows on the desk to listen.

"This could have interesting results," said Bartleby. "If we catch Tybalt red-handed, so that Hugo can't get him out of it, he won't hesitate to implicate Hugo."

"Perhaps we can even catch Hugo red-handed, eh?" said the marquis. "I never liked this wedding business anyway." They stopped talking and I looked from one to the other.

"What note?" I said.

"Note?"

"You said something about a note."

"Ah, the note. That's how we got into this blasted business," said the marquis. Bartleby put his hand on his arm in warning, and the marquis stopped and looked at me. Then he shook his head. "I don't see why not tell him. The more he knows, the more likely he will remember something important. I'm sure Hugo knows, he's got spies, and how else would Tybalt have known where to wait for her? You see, Albert, I got a note from her several days ago. It was addressed to the queen, but it was sent to me. It was very secretive. She did not sign her name, or state her business. She simply said that she had something to tell the queen. It was important, and her life was in danger, and she must have the queen's protection to tell it. She also begged us not to trust anyone at all, because this woman's enemies might number among the queen's friends. I was inclined to think she was a lunatic, but the queen was interested. So we went to the place and time she indicated, and you know what we found. I really don't even know if the woman kidnapped was the one who sent the note. I wish I knew who she was."

The marquis sat back and thought. Bartleby, however, had a half smile on his face, as if he was trying to remember something. Suddenly he slapped his hand down on the table, making both of us jump.

"Have you ever heard the name Alice MacGuffin?" he said. Neither of us answered. "All the while we talked to that young lady impostor I was thinking that she reminded me of someone, and now I recall who it was. Mrs. Alice MacGuffin. A Scotch opera singer. I saw her perform once when visiting relatives in England. Opera. Does it make you think of anything?"

"Albert and his so memorable voices," said the marquis.

"She could have been an opera singer," I said. "You should have heard her scream."

"I did," said the marquis. "But George, do you know this MacGuffin woman well enough to be sure?"

"No, but it can be checked. She wasn't a great singer, but she was a very popular operetta performer. She had quite an extravagant personality. Someone will know where she has been recently, or if she's missing."

"Hugo's quite the opera-goer," said the marquis, rubbing his chin. "He and Sigmond are always raving about some opera singer or other. I wonder what she could possibly have found out, though."

"I can try to track down if, and when, she had ever met them. It may take a while, though."

"In the meantime we must find out what we can here," said the marquis. "Albert."

"Yes, sir."

"You keep an eye on the comings and goings of Hugo's men in the stable. Particularly Tybalt. Can you do that?"

"Oh, yes, sir. But I can't always find you to tell you right away."

"It doesn't need to be right away. They'd be gone before I could do anything anyway. No, you just keep your eyes and ears open, and remember as much as you can. Oh, and Albert, if Tybalt, or anyone, asks you about that woman's voice or about your belief in her identity, tell him the truth. Her voice sounded different. But also say that we did not believe you, and perhaps that we convinced you that you were mistaken."

"Wouldn't it be simpler to just say I have no doubts in the first place?"

"Tybalt saw you change your mind, lad," said Bartleby.

"Yes, but you must also be sure not to say anything you don't need to," added the marquis. "Be open, don't act like you are hiding anything–that's why I think we should stick as close to the truth as possible–but only say what you have to."

"Yes, sir," I said. "That won't be hard." I was getting a lot of practice at that kind of lying lately.

"You had better get to work, Albert," said the marquis, standing up. "And I have to get to the queen and tell her about this."

"Sirs?" I asked. "Will I get to see the queen sometime? Does she ever come out to the stable?"

The marquis and Bartleby looked at one another and both burst out laughing. "Why Albert," said the marquis. "You were just in the same room with her. It was a small room. You couldn't have missed her."

"That man and woman I didn't know?"

"She was sitting on the settee with Duke Sigmond."

"That was the queen?"

"Yes. What did you expect? A crown, robes and scepter?" He chuckled and patted me on the back. "Come on, Albert. Back to the stable."

For the life of me I could not recall any detail of the queen's face or person. She was simply half of a nondescript couple which had sat on a couch slightly outside the center of attention. I could remember the man slightly better. Duke Sigmond struck me as a middle aged fop, not like my father, who was a well preserved middle aged fop, but like a wastrel whose face showed his years.

* * *

"WHERE HAVE YOU been?" asked Hans, when I got back to the stable. He looked harried as he bounced out of a stall.

"I've just had an audience with the queen," I said, still slightly dazed by the idea. "And I didn't even know she was there."

Hans laughed immediately. "I had to have her pointed out to me three times before I could recognize her," he said. "She doesn't like attention. Why were you there?"

"Oh! They called me to ... ."

"Wait! Here comes Uncle Wil, and we're way behind."

"I'll tell you about it later," I said as we jumped for our muck sacks. Bloch came barreling down the corridor, looking furious, but also pleased in a way. The wicked old man _enjoyed_ bawling out stable boys.

"Hans!" he yelled. "This all should have been done by now."

"I'm sorry sir," I said. "I was called away."

"But you weren't," he boomed at Hans, taking hold of his collar. "You lazy, worthless little ingrate. Just like your father. I gave you this job. Nobody else ever would have."

"I'm...I'm...," Hans could not get any further sounds out. He had gone rather pale, but he did not bother to shake in his boots, because his uncle was doing that for him.

"It's not his fault," I said. "I was...."

"Be quiet you," said Bloch, lashing out at me with his free hand. I rocked back to avoid the slap, and then leapt forward, my automatic reaction being to strike back. Bloch jumped back when I jumped forward, releasing Hans' collar and bumping into the back end of a horse. Luckily for him he was too close for the animal to get its heels up, and the creature merely shoved him back at me. By then I had recovered my self control, but Bloch looked close on losing his. He was furious, but he seemed uncertain what to do. I could see he wanted to hit me, but he did not want to get hit back. He made some incomprehensible sounds of fury, which I think were intended to be a bawling out.

"Get to work!" he said at last. "Get those stalls mucked out. And you, Hans–" he paused and spoke more calmly, "–Sea Sprite needs turning out. _You_ put him in the south paddock."

Hans glanced apprehensively between Bloch and Sea Sprite's stall.

"I'll do it," I said.

"You'll get your stall mucked," said Bloch.

I backed away and picked up my muck sack. Hans went reluctantly to fetch Sea Sprite's halter. When he came back he paused by the stall where I was.

"This is his way of torturing the stable boys," he said. "If he's mad at you, you get Sea Sprite."

"I like Sea Sprite," I said.

"Well, _you_ happen to be crazy. I'm beginning to think you like anything with four hooves and a tail."

"Probably."

"I don't know what Uncle Wil's going to do about punishing you."

"I think this is my punishment," I said looking down at the pile of horse manure I was supposed to remove. "He's gone now. Wanna trade?"

Hans sighed in resignation. "No, he'll be back. It isn't so bad. Sea Sprite likes to go outside, almost at much as he likes tearing people limb from limb. Well, here I go." He fidgeted his shoulders slightly, adjusting his jacket, and walked away slowly.

Fifteen minutes later I was out stomping on the manure pile. I could still hear the sounds of battle going on inside the stable.

"Alfred!"

I turned and watched Tybalt approach from the stable. I did not bother to correct him this time. It was not my name anyway. He came rather jauntily, playing with his riding crop and grinning.

"I need my horse, but that other boy appears to be rather busy." His face became dead earnest as he spoke, then he laughed. I did not think it was particularly funny, but he was so delighted by it that it was infectious, and I felt like laughing too. I frowned and made a pointed show of my displeasure.

"I'll be there in a minute," I said, and I turned away to stamp on the manure a bit longer.

"Mad at me, Bertram?"

"Albert!" I snapped. He grinned.

"I'm sorry I didn't turn out to be such a horrid villain after all," he said, almost earnestly. "I know you were counting on it. I should be furious myself if someone took away _my_ adventure." He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"Just because you didn't do anything so bad this time, doesn't mean you're _not_ a horrid villain," I said. While I was standing on the manure pile I was taller than he was and I could look down my nose at him, which I did now.

" _Touché_ ," he said emphatically. I thought it was rather good myself. After all, it implied that I believed him and his impostor woman, and against my will, which made it all the more convincing.

Just then the stable door burst open and out came Hans and Sea Sprite. The horse had his ears back, his eyes half closed, his nostrils wide and his teeth bared, but he was heading willingly for the pasture at a fast trot. Hans was holding onto his halter with both hands and running alongside. Both looked annoyed, harried, and relieved that they had got out of the stable.

"They seem to be getting on quite well now," said Tybalt. He scooped up a rock and raised his arm to throw it at Sea Sprite.

"Hey!" I said, and whacked him on the back with my muck sack. He wheeled around and jumped at me like I had jumped at Bloch.

"You little...." He hesitated at the edge of the manure and glowered at me. Then he leaned back and half smiled, raising his eyebrows and reaching around to brush off his back. He actually did not have any manure on his back, but he could not see that, and I did not tell him. He glanced over at Hans. "Friend of yours?"

"Yes."

"Good God." He shook his head. "You don't know how to choose your friends, do you?"

"I know who not to pick."

"All right, all right. Get my horse, will you? I'm in a hurry."

"Yes, sir. I'll give him a good grooming and saddle him right away."

"I won't wait that long," he replied. "Just saddle him."

"He ought to be brushed first."

"My, my. Quite the stickler, aren't you? Oh well, always the best for Regis, I say. Go on, but be quick about it."

* * *

IT WAS A sunny day with a cool breeze off the mountains, a nice day for riding. Everyone was at the stable and demanding a mount. I was glad for the relief from cleaning stalls, but it got to be tiring.

I was getting to know all the horses by name. Sorting out the owners, however, was difficult. It all got very confusing. They kept switching mounts on me. Some lent their animals out, some traded, and some just stole, or tried to steal. The Viscountess von Stenbau appeared, in a new blue silk riding dress with a handsome young gentleman at each flank, demanding Regis. Gray went with her dress better than her own chestnut. She threw her riding crop at me when I could not tell her where Tybalt was or when he would be back. Then she cursed when she missed, and galloped off on her own horse, leaving me and her escorts in a cloud of dust. Immediately after that some baron came in and nearly started a fist fight over whether some other fellow should be able to ride a particular horse in a race. And they were the easy part.

It was, as I said, a tiring day.

In the evening, when the horses and the stableboys alike began to droop, Hans sat down on a trunk in the tack room and unbuttoned his collar.

"Phew," he said. I nodded and collapsed on the floor. Hans began to tap his foot.

"I've been telling my family about you," he said after a moment. "They want to meet you."

"I'd like to meet them." I lay back on the floor and put my arms up to cradle my head.

"They want you to come to dinner," he said doubtfully.

"I'd like to," I said.

"Tonight?"

"Sure."

"You won't get anything as fancy as you get here. Or even very good."

"Are you inviting my to dinner, or trying to make me stay away?"

"Just warning you, that's all."

"I'm coming then."

* * *

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### Chapter VIII - The Bloch Family

* * *

SINCE I WAS wearing my livery, Hans decided to wear his too, rather than change clothes. We brushed up and set out through the town. Hans actually lived outside Lifbau. His father, I gathered, was something of a farmer, though not a very successful one. The farm was not far from the royal park, but we took the long way around because I wanted to stop at a tailor to see about taking in my trousers, and I also wanted to pick up something to bring to dinner.

We were walking back, I with a three-pfennig ham under my arm and Hans chatting on about the amusing difficulties some nobleman had made for him during the afternoon. He had a flair for telling a tale. His straight face and air of morose resignation made it very funny. So it was a pleasant walk, through a pleasant neighborhood.

It seemed a rather wealthy neighborhood. Large trees and nice well kept houses lined the street. Each had a neat little fence, which I ran my hand along.

"That's my uncle's house," said Hans suddenly. I looked up at it. It was much like the other houses, except it had a very large frame of windows in front. Each window was mostly made up of many small panes of glass, just like everyone else had, but in the very middle was a large single pane of glass. That must have been expensive, but I'm sure it made the neighbors jealous.

"Nice," I said.

"You should see the inside," Hans said, and we moved on.

Soon we were out of the city and into a row of small farms. These were also neat and tidy. The fences were white, as if freshly painted, the fields were green with a fall crop, and the yards scythed. All this was in spite of the fact that it was definitely a poorer part of town.

Then, abruptly, the fresh paint, neat yards and planted fields stopped. We had come to the end of the road and there the weeds had grown up, and the paint, what there was of it, was peeling off the fence. A small apple orchard, over grown, obscured my view of the house. One tree was partially pruned, and the shears lay on the ground beneath it.

Hans pushed open the sagging gate. "We've had a bad year," he said and went in. I followed.

The house was much nicer than the rest of the farm led me to expect. It too was rather worn and makeshift, but more care and effort seemed to have been put into it and the area closest to it. A small garden, with crooked rows, looked productive to say the least, and there were no weeds in it, though the field behind it had been completely overcome with them.

Off in that field a small boy fought off imaginary legions with a stick for a sword, and in the garden a girl of about eleven was pulling carrots. She jumped up in surprise when she saw us.

"Oh, Hans!" she cried, suddenly smiling and stepping forward. "I didn't recognize you right off."

The little boy defeated his legions and came running at us, yelling and brandishing his stick.

"You've got your uniform on," he cried.

"Not a uniform," said Hans. "Just livery." The little boy stopped and frowned, but the girl grinned and ran for the house.

"Mama, you should see Hans," she said.

"I guess I've never worn it home before," said Hans with an embarrassed grin. "This is my brother, Edric. Eddie. And that was Sandra." Sandra returned with a gaunt woman who was not so tall as her thinness made her look.

"My, my, don't you look handsome," said their mother, admiring Hans. She fit the farm very well. Her hair was half loose, and her apron askew. She held a paring knife in one hand and in the other a potato with a long piece of peel flapping from it.

"He looks stupid," said the little boy with the stick.

"Oh, hush, Eddie, he looks fine, really fine," said the mother.

"I think so too," said Sandra.

"Someday I'll have a _real_ uniform," said Edric.

Sandra said, "Ha!" but Hans bent down and asked, "What sort of uniform?"

"A soldier's uniform with brass buttons," he answered, beaming.

"And you'll look fine in it," said Hans.

"Are you going to be in the cavalry, or infantry?" I asked.

Now all three looked up and noticed me for the first time. Suddenly they became subdued, and the mother began to straighten her hair.

"Oh," said Hans. "This is Albert."

"How do you do?" said mother and daughter together, and both gave me an awkward little bow. "Won't you come in?" added the mother with a little too much politeness. I looked at Hans, but he was urging me into the house.

The inside of the house was much like the outside, that is, worn, makeshift and disorganized. It was a three room house and the room I was in seemed to take up most of it. It was kitchen, parlor, washroom, hall and even bedroom to somebody. The place smelled of cabbage and beer, but it had a warm lively feel to it. Two very small children played on the floor between the hearth and the plain wood table. A mongrel dog appeared out of nowhere and put his paws up on my leg, wagging his tail vigorously.

"Dog!" said the mother. "Get down!" The dog ignored her.

A man was sitting at the table. He rose unsteadily when we entered. I noticed that the smell of beer came mainly from him.

"Papa," said Hans. "This is Albert."

"How do you do, sir," I said.

"How do you do," he answered, bowing. Everyone was staring at me with wide eyes. I turned to Hans.

"Did you tell them I was somebody important?" I whispered.

"I was trying to impress them," Hans answered with a shrug.

"Won't you sit down?" asked the mother.

I looked for the nearest chair. There was one against the wall, and as I went to sit in it the father leapt forward and pulled it up for me. The mother started to say something, and I caught a glimpse of horror in her face as I sat. The chair collapsed just as my seat touched it and I flipped over backward with a crash.

Everyone froze. "Christopher Bloch!" said the mother. "You know that chair has broken back legs."

"Oh!" said the father, putting his hand over his mouth.

I rolled out of the chair and sat up on the floor to stare at it. More than the back legs were broken now.

"Oh...I'm so sorry...," said the father, and I started to apologize for breaking the chair. Edric, however, leapt for another chair and bowled it over backward, letting out a shriek of delight. I started to laugh and in a moment everybody was laughing.

"Here, Albert," said the father, "let me give you a hand up."

"Thank you, Herr Bloch," I said.

"Agh! Herr Bloch is it? That's what they call my brother and I won't be called anything they call him," he said. "Call me Tiger. That's what they used to call me when I was young. Honestly, that's what they called me."

"All right, sir," I said.

"Sir? Ha ha!" he said, taking me by the shoulders and looking at his wife. "You hear that?"

"You might as well call me Lise, then," said the mother.

"Oh! The ham!" I said. It had been under my arm when I sat, but now it had rolled into the corner, where the dog gnawed at it.

"Dog!" cried Lise as she went to shoo him away. The dog wanted to contest her claim, but she picked him up bodily and put him aside. She picked up the ham and wiped it off with her apron.

"Look what Albert's brought us," she said, displaying it.

"The dog's eaten it."

"Oh, don't be so fussy, Sandra," said Lise. "We can clean it up."

"Ick!"

"We can cut off the part the dog ate," I said.

"Yes," said Lise quickly. "That's a good idea. We'll do that. And _you_ , dog, you won't get anything."

The dog did not listen and he stood on his hind legs to beg. Lise hurried the ham over to her wash basin and began to cut at it and wash it.

* * *

I TOOK TO Hans' family immediately, and they seemed to like me, once they had forgotten whatever grand story Hans had told them. I sat on a rough but sturdy bench this time. Hans sat beside me, and everyone talked.

"I've been meaning to fix that chair," said Tiger, picking up a piece of the wreckage. He pulled out a knife and trimmed off the rough edges. From there he regaled me with a tale of when he was known as Tiger, while Sandra sat beside him and told me about the new dress a Mrs. Somebody-or-other had got and how it got torn. Lise, without looking up from her cooking, frequently amended both tales. It was fascinating, but I got the stories hopelessly jumbled. I could see that Hans' talent for talking ran in the family. Hans himself was rather quiet, though it was no wonder with all the competition he had.

"Have some home-brewed ale," said Tiger, ladling some dark brown liquid from a bucket into a mug. He handed it to me. It was a large mug. It smelled all right, as far as I knew, so I took a drink. It tasted horrendous.

"Ung," I could not help but say. Tiger laughed.

"You don't have to drink it lad," he said, reaching to take it from me.

"No," I said, pulling it back. "I'll drink it."

"Mind you, you don't have to."

"Here we are," said Lise. She brought a large platter of cabbage and set it down on the table. "This much is done, anyway. You'll have to wait on the rest."

That was how dinner came, as it was done, the cabbage, the carrots, the smaller potatoes, then the larger ones and the ham. It was all served in wooden bowls, but they were nice wooden bowls. They were beautifully carved, and as I watched Tiger whittle away at that chair fragment, I saw who had carved them.

"That's beautiful," I said, nodding at his present project. He beamed.

"That's the only reason he ever prunes the apple trees," said Lise, smiling. "For fruit wood."

It was getting late and everyone was quieter and warmer in the flickering firelight. Sandra looked suddenly at Hans.

"Tell us what it'll be like when we have our pony farm," she said.

"Yes, tell us," said Eddie.

Hans sat back and frowned most miserably, and glanced at his father, then at the children, all waiting expectantly.

"It'll be grand," he said, suddenly smiling. "We'll have to have a bigger house, of course...."

"And a stable!"

"And a stable. Both made of red brick. As nice at Uncle Wil's. It'll have to be that nice for the people who come to see us."

"And I'll have my own horse," said Eddie.

"We'll all have our own," said Lise.

"The very best too," said Hans, "because we'll make them the best."

"Will mine be white?" asked Sandra.

"Oh, yes, like cream. They'll all be white."

"I want a black one," said Edric.

"Well then," said Tiger. "They'll be half black and half cream."

They went on arguing over which color the ponies should be. Even Hans was arguing. It was like a game which they had gone over before, each knew his proper response, and if he did not, some other would correct him. It reminded me of when Celeste and I would speculate on what I would do when I ran away.

"Some more ale, Albert?" said Tiger, breaking out of the argument. I had, at last, come to the end of the ale I had been sipping all evening, and he must have seen me tip my mug up to get the last.

"Oh, Christopher," said Lise, "don't force that awful tasting stuff on the boy."

"Yes, please," I said. It actually did not taste so bad any more. My tongue must have died during the evening. I found I could drink it right up.

Soon it was late and the pony farm had grown into a veritable kingdom. When the suggestion was made that perhaps even the queen herself would have to work for them, credulity collapsed and the game was at an end. I will not say who made the fateful suggestion, but I will say that she should never have asked for a second mug of ale.

After dinner Hans drew me outside, saying that I did not know my way home and that he would have to go with me. I was badly in need of fresh air. I felt rather good, but I was drowsy and my head was reeling.

"Now you see why I have to work for Uncle Wil," he said, as he pulled me through the gate.

"I do?"

"That pony farm idea is the one thing that keeps them going. We've had a very bad year," he said, stopping to look at me, "but then we always have a bad year. It doesn't matter what he tries to grow, he's just not a farmer. Oh, we get _by_ ," he added emphatically, looking hard into my eyes as if to be sure I did not mistake his meaning. "But you heard them talk. That pony farm is _why_ we get by. Can I come home and tell them that there isn't going to be a pony farm, because I hate horses, and I don't really know anything about them, and it's really a stupid idea, and even if it wasn't _we_ could never get it to work? Can I do that?"

I shook my head, as much to clear it as to answer him. It was cold out, and the fresh air was helping, but not much.

"Besides," Hans went on, "I've got to have some kind of job. So why not horses? Who knows, maybe we can do it. And I might even get to like horses, if it wasn't for Uncle Wil."

"Uncle Wil is a stinker," I said. It was the only comment in my head at the moment, so I said it to keep up my end of the conversation.

"A stinker is right," said Hans. "I don't know why he has to make work so difficult for me. I mean, look at Sea Sprite. You could have put him out in no time. If he would just have us do what we're best at we could get three times as much work done. But no, not Wilhelm Bloch, he would never do anything reasonable. Except maybe when the nobles are watching."

"Wilhelm Bloch is a rat," I announced, thinking of just how much of a rat he was. "He's a stinking rat."

Suddenly inspiration took me and I dashed down a side street.

"Where are you going?" called Hans. "That's the wrong way."

"This is the way to ol' Willie's house, isn't it?" I asked, stumbling back to him.

"Well, yes...."

"Well, come on!" The running seemed to clear my head, so I ran all the way. Hans stayed at my heel and tried twice to stop me.

"Wait," he said. "I was only blowing off steam. No need to get excited."

I arrived at Bloch's front gate and tottered a moment, looking at his big white house and that large pane of glass.

"What are you going to do?" asked Hans.

First I let out a whoop to shatter the peace and quiet, which seemed rather complacent to me just then. Then I picked up a rock and hurled it as hard as I could.

"Wilhelm Bloch, you're a rotten bastard. You're a...." Hans had his hand over my mouth before I could say more, but I probably would have only called him a stinker again. Hans pulled me away, but I looked back. A faint light appeared behind the window, revealing the jagged glass remains.

"Hey," I said. "I hit it."

"Yeah, you hit it. Come on." Hans gave me a yank on the arm.

"Dead center," I whispered, catching some of his caution.

We ran to the end of the street.

"Do you think anyone saw us?" I said, panting. My head was definitely clearing now.

"I don't know," said Hans. "I hope not."

"Am I in trouble?"

"Are _we_ in trouble?"

"I'm sorry. I really am. I...."

"Come on. Let's get you home."

"Are you mad at me?"

"No." It sounded like he was, but after a moment he began to chuckle.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING was chilly and overcast. Very early, even before we fed and watered the horses, Bloch had all the stable boys gather in the yard. We stood in a line, watching him, waiting for him to speak. He did not say a word. He just stared at us with the best angry look he could muster. We stared back at him, furtively glancing at one another and wondering what it was all about. Of course, I knew what it was all about. So did Hans.

Bloch had had all night to stew and plan, and he was not raving and ranting. Apparently he had decided to put the fear of God into us with his calm silent fury, and make fear and guilt show plainly on the face of the culprit. It worked, too. Too well, that is. Fear and guilt showed on the faces of all of us.

Bloch snorted indignantly. He went to the head of the line and began to glare at each of us in turn. His quiet was disturbed. I could see him preparing to bluster as he puffed his way down the line.

Philip stood back behind him, apparently above suspicion. He was chewing his thumbnail, head tilted sideways, surveying us. Actually, he was surveying _me_. I was the only one he was looking at. I glanced away quickly. Bloch had come to me.

"You don't look too well today, Albert," he snapped. "What's wrong with you? Fear of retribution? Guilt lying heavy on your soul? Well?"

As he glared into my eyes I had this sudden urge to throw myself at his feet and cry, "I did it! I did it! Oh, will you ever forgive me?" I choked back the giggle rising in my throat.

"Nothing, sir."

"Where were you last night?"

"I...." I glanced at Hans. "I had dinner with Hans and his family, sir."

"No wonder you look ill." That in itself seemed to give him satisfaction, but he did not let it drop. "Your path home would not have taken you far from my house. And it would have been at the right time. Yes, you did it all right," he announced, grabbing a hold of my collar.

"Did what, sir?" I said. I remembered Tybalt's innocent replies to the marquis' accusations. With one thought I both felt guilty at the comparison, and wished I had Tybalt's skill at lying.

"He couldn't have done anything last night, Uncle Wil," said Hans. "I walked home with him. All the way."

"What!" Bloch still held my collar, but he turned on Hans with a fury.

"It's the truth, Uncle Wil," said Hans, backing away. "He was with me."

Bloch glanced at me. "He did it after you left."

"Oh, no. He couldn't have," persisted Hans.

"Why not?"

Hans swallowed and turned pale. "Uh. You know Papa, how he is with the ale when we have guests. Albert was dead on his feet. He couldn't have got out of bed, let alone...do something wrong."

"Albert can make trouble in his sleep, can't you Albert?" said Bloch, almost sweetly. I nodded vigorously. He released me with a jerk and turned on the group. "Who did it? Tell me. Was it you?" he said, suddenly pointing at Hans. Hans shook his head and backed away. "No, you wouldn't. All right, I want to know who it is, now! Who did it? Come on, who?"

"It might not have been any of them," said Philip, raising one eyebrow hopefully.

"Who else would it be? No, it's one of them, and they all know who. Look at them! They know. And I'm going to wait here until they tell me."

"Sir, it's past feeding time," I said. "The horses...."

"You shut up," he snapped. Philip had his mouth open, but Bloch shut him up with a glare. "Who did it? I want to know and I'm going to find out. Just you watch me. I'll find out if it is the last thing I do." He was looking at me when he said it, but then he surveyed us all. "Well? Get to work. Go on. Go!"

We scrambled for cover in the stable. As we ran, one of the larger boys looked at me. "What's got him so mad?"

I shrugged and ducked into the stable. Inside Hans was leaning on a stall post, holding his hand to his heart.

"I thought he had us," said Hans. "I really thought we were both going to get it."

"Thanks Hans," I said.

"Forget it," he said. "I half wish I'd done it myself. Papa's always talking about doing that very thing. Hey, maybe he'll think my father did it. Papa'll be glad to take the credit."

* * *

WHILE I WAS filling the hay nets Philip came by and pulled me aside.

"Our lord and master still thinks you did it," he said. "If I was you, I'd avoid him for a while. He's a bit on the murderous side." He bit his lip and looked at me.

"I will," I said.

"Did you?" he asked, raising his left eyebrow.

"Hunh?" I said.

"Do it?"

"Certainly not," I said indignantly, without even hesitating. I was getting good at lying, and getting better by the minute. Soon I would be leaving Tybalt von Stenbau at the starting post.

Philip, however, raised his right eyebrow. "I thought as much," he said, grinning. "Don't worry. I won't tell Bloch. Not that he needs telling. Just be sure to stay away from him. And his house. Right?"

"Right."

"Good." He nodded and went away.

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Chapter IX - The Tournament

* * *

THE ANNOUNCEMENT CAME at last. Her Royal Majesty Queen Christiana of Lifbau would marry her cousin Sigmond, Duke of Kirsau. All of the events which had been tentatively planned were now set and ready; a ball, dinners, horse races, and even a tournament. I had thought myself busy until now, but with the announcement the work piled on. It was not too hard to handle, but I began to suspect that Bloch was purposefully putting extra work on me. He had begun to act rather funny lately, watching me at odd moments when he thought I was not looking. It got to be irritating at times, but it always ended precisely at seven, when Bloch went home. He always left then, no matter how much work there was yet to do. He just left it to Philip. Actually that was probably wise of him, as the work went better when he was gone.

The stable was completely full, and I am told there were many guests who had to stable their beasts elsewhere. I know the marquis removed two of his three mounts to his own stables in the country. I like being around lots of horses, and the work was not that bad. There were more stalls to clean, of course, but most of the work was pleasant and lighter. We did a lot of grooming and saddling and bridling, and in the evenings we usually cleaned and maintained the tack, if there had been no time to do it during the day.

That was what we were doing the night after the official announcement. We sat around and gabbed in the tack room under Philip's apartment. Hans came back after dinner to help out and he and Philip sat in the corner by the little potbellied stove with an enormous harness in their laps. I was oiling the marquis' bridle and saddle. I was to be his personal groom for the tournament the next day, and I wanted his tack to be perfect. The other live-in stable boys were there, Charles, the blond boy with the freckles, and two other boys, Frederick and Roderick, who were brothers. They were actually footmen, and I do not think they liked having to do common grubby work like the rest of us, but if Philip did it they could hardly refuse, so they satisfied themselves with polishing stirrups, buckles and bits.

I did not have much to add to the conversation, since it covered mainly things I knew nothing about, but I liked to listen. Grooms, I discovered, are the worst gossips in the world. I was most interested, though, when they got onto the royal wedding.

"Do you think it'll really happen?" Roderick commented more than asked.

"Nah," said Charles. "Why would anyone want to marry _her?_ "

"Because she's queen, dunderhead," said Frederick.

"The question is," said Philip, dipping his rag in the can of hot oil on the stove, "why would anyone want to marry him?" There was a general round of sniggering, except for Frederick, who looked quite serious.

"She knows what's good for her," he said. Philip just shrugged and rubbed the oil into his harness.

"Is it really good for her?" I said. "Just to make peace with Hugo? I don't think so."

Seeing as I had directed my question at Philip, he knitted his eyebrows and considered. Then he gave me a half grin.

"Well I know one other person who doesn't like it for certain," he replied. Charlie snickered.

"Who?"

"Your friend and ours, the Marquis of Furlenhaur."

"Oh, that I know. He thinks Hugo is up to something," I said. "So do I, for that matter."

"He doesn't get it," said Charlie.

"Hugo isn't what's bothering him, Albert," said Philip.

"He isn't?"

"No, he's jealous!" said Charlie.

"You mean of Sigmond? No!"

"Sure!"

"They do try to hide it," said Philip. "But whenever the queen and her devoted servant are together.... Well, I drive her Landau, so take my word for it."

"She ought to marry _him_ then," I said. Everybody chuckled. "Well, why hide it?"

"Politics," said Frederick as if I was an idiot.

"Neither one of 'em _likes_ the idea," said Hans. "Sigmond less than her."

"You're crazy," said Frederick. "Sigmond's the one who wanted the marriage in the first place."

"Don't let them fool you," said Hans, slapping authoritatively at a sluggish fly. "It's Hugo that wants it."

"What makes you so sure?"

"We were there when it started, weren't we?" said Hans. "Philip and me. Remember last year when Hugo had that summer party? You should have heard the fight, Albert. Hugo and Sigmond were yelling half the night. You couldn't hear what they said, but...."

"You _see_ , you don't even know what they were fighting about!"

"I know!" said Hans. "Ask Philip. His girl told us."

"What girl?" said Philip.

"That foreigner!"

"Oh, her. English," Philip said, nodding and smiling.

"She was a lady's maid, in the next room," Hans went on. "She heard it all."

"She was a funny one. Didn't hardly speak German, but talked a blue streak."

"Ha! See?" said Frederick. "She couldn't understand the language."

"She understood enough," said Hans, getting frustrated.

"She understood they were talking about marriage all right," added Philip. "That's one thing she understood in any language, I can tell you."

"She said that Hugo wanted Sigmond to marry the queen," Hans cut in, "and Sigmond kept calling her a–what was it?"

"An insipid mouse."

"That's right, 'an insipid mouse of a woman,' and he said he'd never marry her. Then Tybalt got there and the argument went right through the roof. They finally had to send for a doctor for Hugo."

"I wonder what Tybalt said," I said.

"Whatever was most likely to make trouble," said Philip. "Probably took Sigmond's side."

"You know," said Frederick. "Maybe that maid got it mixed up. We all think that Hugo is for it because he's supporting it now, but maybe he lost the argument. That's why they had to send for a doctor."

"That could be," said Philip. "But would Sigmond struggle so hard to marry a woman he considered an insipid mouse?"

"Maybe she got that part wrong too."

"No, she was clear on that."

"Unless Hugo wanted him to marry some other mouse," I said. "But Sigmond had bigger ideas."

"That's possible," said Philip, looking at Hans.

"All right," said Hans. "So maybe Sigmond _does_ want to marry her. I still don't think he acts like it."

"Keeps his passion private," said Roderick.

"Well," said Frederick. "After all, she really is a mouse. She just happens to be Queen Mouse."

The conversation went off again to things I knew nothing about, and I did not take part. I sat back and rubbed some more oil into the marquis' reins. So the marquis was in love with the queen, and Sigmond certainly was not. I liked the idea, not that it surprised me any. Not about Sigmond anyway. Not that it made me blame him either. It would not be fun to have Hugo pushing you around all your life, like a political pawn. That was, unless Frederick was right and it was Sigmond who wanted the marriage for his own political gains. Then what ever Hugo was up to could be an attempt to stop the marriage.

Then a more sinister thought occurred to me. What if Hugo did not particularly care about the marriage or Sigmond, but realized he could use them to discredit the queen. It did not matter if an unmarried queen loved her marquis, but it she were married to a duke, well that was another matter entirely. I was sure that the marquis had thought of that already. I hoped he had, because I really did not want to bring the matter up to him anyway. It would be too embarrassing.

I wondered about the English maid. How much had she heard and understood? Where was she now? I remembered that Mrs. MacGuffin was Scottish, which to us in Lifbau is the same as English. Then I realized that the woman I met was certainly not a maid, and she spoke German very well. Unless she was a spy for the queen and was pretending to be a maid...but that was silly. If she was a spy the marquis would have told me so, or not told me anything. He would not have made up an elaborate story about the mysterious note, and not knowing who she was. I was just beginning to confuse myself because I did not know enough yet. I turned back to my bridle and hoped to hear more.

* * *

THE NEXT DAY I popped out of bed extra early, but already the rest of the palace was waking up. Everyone wanted to get their work done early to watch the parade and competition. The yard was already full of soldiers in their polished black boots and their gleaming helmets and dark green and silver uniforms. They were the queen's guard, and all of their horses were Lifbauan Bays from the Royal Stud. There were other troops outside the palace, getting ready in the park. They were dressed in the grey and gold of Hugo's men, or in the various bright colors of lesser nobles. Lifbau was such a small country and we did not really have much of an organized military. What we had was still rather feudal, with each troop loyal to his patron. It made for beautiful parades, but somewhat chaotic politics. I began to see in this patchwork of soldiery how important popularity was to the queen. If the lesser nobles withdrew their loyalty, Hugo's army would nearly match the queen's, and if they all threw their support behind Hugo, there would be no doubt. Hugo would be king. In a way, the queen was lucky the lesser nobles were so disorganized; Hugo could never get them all to agree. I hoped.

"Albert! Work!" Bloch's sharp reminder brought me back into the stable, but I did not much mind. I would not have that much work to do that day. As the marquis' personal groom, I would get to see the whole competition, and all I really had to do was get his horse ready and hold him when he was not being ridden. The rest of the job was just to watch and have a good time.

Bayberry, the marquis' horse, shone like one of the soldiers' boots when I got through with him. It took those soldiers three months of daily spit-polishing to get them that shiny, and I felt as if I had put in just as much work in that morning. I dashed out to see to the saddle next, when Tybalt appeared in front of me, blocking my path.

"Alvin!" he said. "I need a boy to look after Regis for the tournament."

"Al_bert_," I said, and started to push past him, but he caught my arm.

"Wait a minute," he said. "Why not? You get along best with him. I want you. You're the best stableboy."

"Thank you, no," I said, my nose in the air. Unfortunately I had to look up at him anyway, so it spoiled the effect. "I'm already groom to Johan."

" _Johan_ , is it?" he said. "Oh ho! Getting rather familiar, aren't we."

"He said I could call him Johan."

"In private, I'll wager."

"Well, it wouldn't be proper to call him Johan in front of the queen."

"Not proper. Ha! You can call me Tybalt in front of the queen if you like. You can call me Tyb. Tybbie. Anything you like. Just as long as it is _not_ proper." He pushed me aside and looked around. "Since I can't have you, where's your pal?"

"Hans?"

"That's the name. Hans!" he shouted. "Come here, Hans, my boy. I need you!"

As he wandered away I had to smile. I did like it when he showed up. He always had something surprising, or at least interesting, to say, even if he did always seem to be trying to draw me into some conspiracy of mischief.

* * *

A VIEWING STAND was set up in the park behind the palace. Directly in front of the stand, on a large flat field, were three poles, about four and a half feet high, each with a lemon speared on the end. Across from the lemons was another set of poles. These were taller and each had an arm. From each arm dangled a ring about three inches across.

This was for the sabre contest. The point was for each officer to gallop by the lemons and slice each fruit in half without slowing or wavering, then to circle and raise out of the saddle in a full cavalry charge, sword extended from the shoulder, and catch each of the three rings. The contest was also timed to break ties in skill, so the ride had to be fast. The rings were considered prizes in themselves, but the winner was to get a pair of silver spurs from the queen herself.

The prize was on display in the viewing stand. They lay on a green velvet pillow between two royal guards. Hans and I paused before them as we led the horses around the ring to get them used to the changed surroundings

"I'd like to win a pair of spurs like that," I said.

"Wouldn't everyone," said Hans, fending off a playful nip from Regis. He had filled his pockets with carrots as a bribe for good behavior, but now I think he was beginning to regret it. "You don't have to worry about that though," he added. "The way you ride you're headed for the queen's cavalry. You'll have lots of chances."

I shook my head and did not answer. The cavalry was one place I was definitely not headed for, and I did not know about my chances of winning anything like those spurs. Of course, I could always go home and put on a sweet look like Celeste and beg my father for a pair of spurs like them. I would probably get them, but it would not be the same.

"The contest is going to start soon," said Hans, as Regis gave a stamp and began to prance around. He was trying first to nip my horse, Bayberry, and then to kick him. I gave him a poke in the ribs to push him back. He lurched forward and we headed back out to the starting area.

* * *

"GOOD JOB, ALBERT," said the marquis, as he looked over his horse. "He looks fine."

"He seems in good spirits today, too, sir," I said. "He knows he's in a contest. Acting like a colt."

"Ah, that's good," said the marquis, taking a stirrup to mount.

"Sir? Are you going to win the spurs?" I asked.

"Well, Albert, I'm going to give it a good try."

"Try and try again, Furlenhaur," said a young officer nearby. "You'll never win them from me."

"Would you like to make a small wager on that, Captain?" said the marquis as he settled into the saddle and trotted Bayberry over to speak to the man.

"I'll take a part of that bet," I heard Tybalt say. "In spite of the fact that it is not a fair contest."

"Not fair?" protested the marquis. "How not fair?"

"It's set up for right handers," said Tybalt. "Alfred, take a look at those rings."

I did, and I saw that it was set up so a left handed man would have his sword on the wrong side. "He's right," I said, nodding.

"You should have taken it up with Sergeant Helmer earlier. I doubt he's set up a course here before," said the young officer. "It probably never occurred to him that there would be someone abnormal in the group," he added with a grin.

"Perhaps he'll start you from the other side," suggested the marquis.

"I asked him about that. The matter seems to have perplexed him out of all reason. He doesn't think it can be done. It seems he's set up the judging stand too close on that side. I'll beat you anyway. I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

"I'm sure you do," said the marquis and the two of them joined the young officer to negotiate the wager.

* * *

"PSST! ALBERT!" HANS called in a hushed voice. I turned to see him pulling with all his might as Regis backed in an erratic circle, somehow managing to keep at least three hooves off the ground at any one time. "Come on you beast!" Hans said.

"Don't pull on him," I said. "He's bigger than you are. Just hold him."

"I'm trying!"

Regis, seeing it was now going to be two against one, changed his tactics and burst forward before I could get a hand on his bridle.

"Just hold him," I repeated.

Hans held. Though Regis kicked and pulled and reared and galloped in a little circle the length of Hans arm, he held, and after a few minutes of getting nowhere the beast gave up, or at least he paused, blowing hard.

"See, it's not so bad, is it?" I said. "When you just hold him until he sees he can't get anywhere, he stops."

"And thinks up something else," said Hans. "Why do _I_ always get the rotten ones? Hold him a minute, will you?" I took the bridle while Hans wiped the sweat off his forehead. "You know, he's not just bigger than I am, he's got more energy. Where's he get it all?"

"Hot blooded, that's all," I said. "Maybe we give him too much grain."

"Maybe we should cut it down then," said Hans with a grumble, but he slipped Regis a carrot.

"Boy! My horse!" Tybalt shouted across the crowd.

"Now there's one who needs his feed cut down," muttered Hans. I nodded as we led the horse between us. Tybalt was having none of that.

"You! Get away from there," he said, pointing his whip at me. "You're not my groom."

I relinquished my hold on the cheekpiece and stepped aside. Regis took that as his cue and leapt sideways to follow me, but Hans held. The two of them dragged each other around in a circle around Tybalt. Hans brought him to a halt, but he pranced energetically in place.

"Hold him still, blast you," said Tybalt. Hans gave Tybalt a long slow look, which I find hard to describe, but it took Tybalt aback, I can tell you. I thought Hans was going to say something, but silently he moved in front of the horse and took a hold of both sides of the bridle to hold his head still. Regis quieted, and Tybalt leapt to the saddle and galloped off almost before Hans could get out of the way.

"You're right," he said as he walked determinedly back to me. "It isn't so bad."

"I've never seen you mad before," I said.

"Well?" he said, his determination beginning to dissolve. "Why _do_ I always get the rotten ones?"

"Next thing you know you'll be standing up to your uncle," I said, snapping my fingers. "Just like that."

"No," said Hans, shaking his head, but grinning. "Oh, no. I think about it sometimes when he's gone, but when he's there...no."

"You almost stood up there to Tybalt."

"I don't have to face him every day for the rest of my life," said Hans. "Besides, you don't know Uncle Wil like I do. He doesn't forget things–unless you do him a favor–and he pays back everything that's done against him. You know, you should watch out for him, Albert. He's been asking questions about you."

"What kind of questions?"

"Who you are, where you come from," said Hans. "Anything he can find out."

"Has he found out anything?"

"Not from me." Hans shrugged. "Nobody knows anything about you anyway. Now he's got everyone curious. If you've got anything to hide from him, Albert, don't tell anybody else. Of course, _I_ would never tell him anything."

"Thanks, Hans," I said, thinking.

"You look a little worried."

"It's all right," I said. "Maybe sometime later I can tell you about it."

"Don't worry too much. I'll keep an eye on Uncle Wil to see what he's doing. You just watch out for him."

"I will," I said.

* * *

THE COMPETITION BEGAN with the younger officers. They were not very good. There were no perfect scores, except that there were a number of perfect failures, with no lemons hit nor rings captured. I think that they went first to show the difficulty of the feat.

The marquis stood with me after he had finished warming up, and watched the early competition draw to a close.

"Now it's time for the real contest to start," I said. The marquis only laughed and checked his tack once more. He put his hand in his pocket.

"Oh," he said. "I forgot. You don't happen to have a carrot on you, do you?"

"No," I said. "But Hans did. Do you want me to go find him?"

"Yes, but be quick. I'll be riding soon."

I knew Hans could not be far with the main competition about to begin. I found him holding on to Regis for all he was worth.

"Hans!" I called. Regis gave a jump. He was not being so disobedient now as being excitable. "Hans, you got a carrot?"

"Yeah, I got a few left," he said, reaching carefully into his pocket. The horse cocked his head. He knew what was in there.

"Thanks," I said as he gave it to me. Regis put his ears back, but Hans had brought out two carrots, and he stuck the second in Regis' mouth before the beast could bite him.

"Where's Tybalt?" I said. "The contest's going to start."

Hans nodded his head toward the back of the viewing stand where Tybalt was approaching another fellow. I recognized the other man. He was the blond scarecrow who had been in on the kidnapping party.

"I'll see you later," I said to Hans, and I dashed through the crowd of horses, soldiers and stablemen to follow Tybalt. I was lucky. They went behind the viewing stand when they met and I was able to conceal myself at the corner to listen in.

"Bartleby _is_ in England," said the blond fellow. "Visiting relatives, just like he said he was going to."

"You're sure they're relatives."

"A widow Bartleby and her eleven little Bartlebys. That's what Klaus said. And Bartleby hasn't even left her house. It looks like you are wrong."

"He wouldn't have left Lifbau at a time like this. Not just to visit relatives," Tybalt insisted. "He is up to something. Get to the telegraph office. Tell our friend there to double his watch for _all_ communications from, or to, Bartleby. For that matter, let me know about everything that comes in to Furlenhaur, or even the queen and her secretaries."

"Do you know how many messages come in to that office since the announcement?"

"I don't care," Tybalt said. "I want to see them all. Now see to it. I've got some spurs to win."

I ducked back into the crowd and ran to the marquis. He was already mounted and headed for the course. He waved at me and I held up the carrot. I supposed that what I heard could wait, at least until after the contest.

The marquis paused in the middle of the field and raised his sword to his face to salute the queen. Then he headed for the starter at a canter. It was an easy pace, but he picked up speed as he approached the first lemon, his sword raised high. The metal flashed as he brought it down. Half the fruit fell to the ground. The crowd began to applaud the accuracy. Then he struck the second precisely in the middle, and the third. So far only one man had hit all three lemons, and he not accurately. I let out a yell with the crowd as the marquis slowed to make his turn for the rings. I thought he slowed too much as he aligned Bayberry for the final charge. He raised his sabre and urged Bayberry into a faster canter. The first ring fell into place, and the second, and then as the marquis finally picked up some speed, the third joined the others on his hilt.

A perfect score. No one had done that so far. The marquis held his sword aloft and cantered in a circle to once again salute the queen. Then he trotted up to drop the prized rings at her feet. The crowd let out a great cheer and the marquis galloped back toward me. I let out another yell and jumped in the air.

"You're going to win!" I said.

"What was my time?" he asked, more cautiously.

"Not very good," I said. The timer was near by, and he told us exactly. Twenty-one seconds.

"Well," said the marquis. "We'll just have to hope there are no more perfect scores."

"There won't be," I said.

"Get away with you!" he said. "Here comes Captain Kohlman."

"You're a turtle, Furlenhaur," he said. "But a perfect one. I see I'll have to be careful."

One of Hugo's officers rode before the captain, and almost did well, hitting all three lemons, but cutting in too quickly toward the rings and missing the first two.

The captain, however, took more care. He set a faster pace than the marquis had, but he was still accurate. The fruits split each in turn, and he turned well, and quickly, lining himself up for the last charge. Then when he urged his horse forward and rose from the saddle, something happened. The captain fell slightly to his right. He recovered quickly, but not in time to catch the first ring. He struck it, though, and it fell to the ground. He got the next two rings.

He saluted the queen and gave his rings to a young woman at the edge of the crowd before cantering back to us.

"What happened there?" asked the marquis, stepping forward to greet him.

"I don't know," Captain Kohlman replied. "My off stirrup gave way."

As he dismounted I took a look at the stirrup and leather. It looked all right, until I pulled the buckle out from under its flap.

"Look here, sir," I said. "I think it's been cut."

There was a vertical tear in the leather connecting the buckle holes. The buckle held until weight was put on it, then it slipped down a hole longer.

"I can't hold you to our wager with this," said the marquis.

"No, no," said the captain. "If someone has cheated it was my luck. I should have checked my tack more carefully."

"Who could have done this?"

Kohlman looked at Tybalt, who was fussing loudly at Hans again in the distance.

"Stenbau?"

"I could never prove it," said Kohlman. "But the only time I left my horse unattended was when I went to greet Duke Sigmond, and Tybalt was there. I'm afraid I don't have a vigilant boy, as you do."

The forth rider scratched because of some trouble with his horse. Tybalt was the next and last.

"Too bad, Kohlman," he said as he rode by. "And too bad to you too, my dear Marquis the Snail."

He trotted out and gave the queen an elaborate salute, and turned to give a second to his mother, who sat in a box near the end. Then horse and rider threw themselves sideways and galloped recklessly around the timer as Tybalt began his approach to the lemons. He brought his sword down with such ferocity that I winced as it struck. There was a loud crack, and a hunk of wood came away with the massacred fruit. The second and third lemons suffered a similar fate.

He wheeled around and paused momentarily before his charge. He raised the sword to shoulder height, and I saw again that it was on the wrong side to catch the rings, but then he rotated his wrist and brought it across his crest to an underhand, and rather backhand, position. Regis flattened his ears and burst forward into a full gallop, and Tybalt easily hooked the first ring, but the second must have come too quickly after it, for he missed that one. He let out a loud curse and made a wild swipe at the third, with more anger than accuracy. He never should have caught it, but he did, and he held aloft two rings.

"You won!" I said to the marquis, as Tybalt saluted the queen with very bad grace.

"Where's that carrot?" said the marquis. I gave it to him and he gave it to Bayberry. "A good horse and a steady hand, Albert."

Tybalt, in the meantime, had paused at his mother's box, but she had a look on her face like Sea Sprite when he is about to snap, so he dumped the rings in the lap of the pretty young woman seated beside her.

"For you, Claire, my dear," he said.

"Harrumph!" said the old viscountess. "Two? A paltry gift, I must say. Give it back to him, Claire dear."

Tybalt gave her an angry look and tossed aside his sabre. He galloped back onto the field.

"Look at that," I said to the marquis, who was still fussing over Bayberry.

Regis was galloping without control across the field, while Tybalt hung from the saddle and picked something up. He raced back to his mother's box and threw a lemon half at her.

"There," he said. "A lemon for an old sourpuss."

"Ah, fresh fruit," she replied and tossed it to Claire. "Here dear. You'll need it for your complexion." Claire simply look perplexed.

"Do you think I could learn to hang from the saddle like that?" I asked the marquis.

He took a breath. "Tybalt is rather reckless," he said, and mounted for the award ceremony.

* * *

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### Chapter X - Sea Sprite

* * *

THE MARQUIS, CAPTAIN Kohlman and I went back to the stable together. The marquis was wearing his new spurs. They were just beautiful, all silver and intricately carved so that they glistened.

"Albert," said the marquis as he caught me looking at them for the tenth time. "I do believe your eyes are turning green."

I grinned. "They sure are a great prize."

"You'll get your chance," he said. "You're young yet."

"Yeah," I said, shaking my head.

"Bloch!" he called. "I've brought your worker back."

"Thank you sir," said Bloch, hurrying up to us. "I've need of him."

"Oh, and Bloch, I hate to put upon you further, but I'm afraid we'll need another box stall. His Highness, Prince Hugo, has got a mare he wants to show off. She's quite a prize I understand."

"Well, sir, the stable's full up now," said Bloch, glancing at me. "But we have at least one unnecessary animal here. I'm sure there's no need for Albert's beast to be here now."

"He's not even in a box stall," I protested.

"Quiet, boy," said Bloch. "We can shuffle the stalls a bit."

"No," said the marquis. "I promised Albert a place for his horse. Let's keep him here if we can. What about Sea Sprite? He's got a good stall, and no one's using him. The mare is his dam, by the way. I'm sure he won't mind making room for his dear old mother."

"If you just need a stall," chimed in Captain Kohlman, "I'm leaving tomorrow. It's a standing stall, but as you say, I'm sure you can shuffle them around."

"Ah, good," said the marquis. "Then it's settled."

"In the meantime, what say you give me a second chance at that bet, and we have a race this afternoon?"

"A fine idea," exclaimed the marquis, and they strolled away discussing the details. I hoped the marquis would stop and say he needed a groom for that race, but he did not.

"A lot of work to do today, Albert," said Bloch. "You've been shirking enough. Get to it."

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Quicker than that," he said, and he followed me as if to push me along. I got my muck sack and went to work. He watched me for a while, but I ignored him, so he went away.

He came back later. This time he was dragging Charles into the stable by the collar.

"Don't talk smart with me," he said. "I told you to clean Sea Sprite's stall."

"But Sea Sprite's _in_ the stall," protested Charles.

"You clean other stalls with horses in them."

"But...but...."

"I've already cleaned Sea Sprite's stall, sir," I said, leaning out into the aisle.

"Have you?" said Bloch.

"Yes, and groomed him," I said. "I always do him first."

"Well!" said Bloch. "Well! If you're so _fond_ of Sea Sprite, why haven't you exercised him yet?"

"Exercised him?"

"Yes. He needs exercising. You're so smart. Why don't you ride him?"

"Me?"

Bloch smiled. "Yes, you."

"Thank you, sir!"

The smile faded. I do not think he liked my enthusiasm.

"Get on with it then," he said, and stalked away.

I realized that I was supposed to be frightened at the prospect of riding Sea Sprite, but I could not help but be thrilled. Sea Sprite was a gorgeous horse, and I could not imagine anyone keeping such a horse at the royal stable, in a loose box no less, if he were not a great horse.

"Hi, Sprite. Want to go for a ride?" I called. Sea Sprite dashed his body against the wall and raked his teeth across the bars. Even with the solid wall between us I took a step back. Maybe I was wrong about being thrilled. Aunt Elfie always said I was too impetuous. Oh, well. I went to get his bridle and my saddle.

When I returned I thought I ought to get his bridle on him first thing so I could control him. I opened the top door of the stall and held the bridle in front of me like a shield. Then a remarkable thing happened. Sea Sprite's ears came up. I had never seen them up before.

He came forward and lipped the bridle, practically taking it out of my hand. That was a good sign. He liked his bridle.

He did not try to bite me at all while I bridled him, and only once when I saddled him, and that when I pulled the girth up too tight too fast. Otherwise he was very cooperative.

"You want to go, don't ya boy," I said, scratching his neck. I think boredom affects horses more than people. People, after all, are not usually shut up in a little stall all day. No wonder he had been so grumpy. He wanted to _go_.

I wanted to go too, and I have to admit, when he resisted going into the ring and pulled for the park and its long trails, I gave in to him. I did not want to ride in a boring old ring either.

I also gave him his pace, a fast, big striding trot. Even at that pace he pulled. He wanted to run. There were still a number of people in the park, so I held him back as long as I could. Then when we got into the open I let out a whoop and we charged across the field.

It was a fast full exhilarating gallop. There was a breeze off the mountains, and our speed made it seem a gale force. Wind made my shirt flap and my hair swirl. That was a good feeling, being away from the barn, and my hair was short and could not get into my mouth and eyes.

I rose out of the saddle and let out another whoop of encouragement. I grabbed a handful of mane and closed my eyes, riding on feel as we flew over the gentle dips and rises of the park. I had been right in the first place. It was thrilling to ride Sea Sprite. Even if it was foolish, it was thrilling.

I urged him on some more and opened my eyes. A small knot of people had wandered out onto the green. They were standing with their backs to us, admiring the scenery of the mountains.

I sat down hard and pulled on the reins. It made not the slightest bit of difference. Sea Sprite galloped on unchecked. Most horses avoid trampling people, but I was not certain about Sea Sprite. I let out a yell of warning and pulled on one rein, bracing my other hand on his neck, in hopes of turning him, or at least getting him off balance. It did slow him down, for two paces. He galloped sideways a moment and then shot off in a new direction.

Well. First crisis overcome. It seemed we could come to a compromise. We would go where I wanted, but at his pace. That was a relief, since I really wanted to go fast myself anyway. Unfortunately, while I made sure we trampled no pedestrians, I failed to notice where I had guided him. I looked up to see that we were but one stride from a dense bit of forest.

I flattened myself against his neck to avoid low branches and we plunged in. Something hard struck my knee, and all parts of me were whipped by leaves and branches. The denseness of the undergrowth slowed Sea Sprite considerably. He broke stride and settled into an excited trot. It was the ideal time to gain control, but I was afraid to look up for fear of the branches. It was hard to regain the reins too, since the twigs kept snatching them away, and my hands were soon covered with scratches.

I finally did get a proper hold on him, and at that moment the forest began to clear and I could sit up. We had reached one of the cross country trails. We cantered to the left, this time with me firmly in control. I wanted to be sure, however, and when the path widened out to a clearing I put him through some figures at an easy trot. Sea Sprite was no dressage horse, and he had no will to become one. Running was all he really liked to do, it seemed.

I pulled him to a halt and patted him on the neck. His ears pricked up, and he looked down the path. I heard the pounding of hooves. In a moment two horsemen, galloping neck and neck, appeared on the trail, then disappeared over a fence further on. One of them was the marquis, and the other I thought must be Captain Kohlman. The horse race. I had forgotten.

Sea Sprite jumped to go after them, and I did not hold him back. Although there were no silver spurs waiting at the end of the race, the whole day of longing to win something had got competition into my blood.

We raced after them, no question this time about control. Horse and rider both wanted the same thing. My heart seemed to pound with his hooves. I hardly noticed the first jump as we flew over. My attention was on the two tails about twenty-five paces ahead. I urged Sea Sprite on as the trail swerved left onto a downgrade. He laid himself flat out, not letting up around the curve, or even on the downslope, which said a lot for his courage. Horses do not usually like to risk going head over heels. We were closing the distance.

Near the bottom of the hill was another fence. I do not much like jumps on a downgrade–it is a little like running down stairs and skipping a step. Sea Sprite, however, took it smooth and fast. He wasted no energy jumping up, but out and long. We were at least another stride closer, and he laid himself out again.

On the flat we could not gain much, but over each jump and around each bend we shortened the distance. Sea Sprite jumped big, and long, and he threw himself around the curves. He seemed experienced at this kind of race. Soon his nose was up with Captain Kohlman's flank, the marquis having pulled a length ahead. They both must have known that another horse had joined the race, but neither looked to see who it was.

Over one more jump and we were up with Kohlman.

"Go, Sprite, go!" I hissed and urged him on. Sea Sprite could not increase his speed much, but he tried, and we began to pull away from the captain, and up on the marquis.

We were heading back toward the palace now. There were spectators lining up in the open spaces. I caught sight of Hans and Philip up ahead, waving, or perhaps gesturing. I was not sure and had no time to notice. I was just about up with the marquis.

"Go!" I said once more to Sprite. The marquis glanced back. Then he sat up straight and looked back again, as his pace slowed and he fell back.

"Good God, it's Albert!" he said, and he urged his horse on again. Sea Sprite was too far ahead now, though, and it was irritating that we had got there because the marquis had let up. We would have been ahead by our own efforts over the next jump, if not before.

That next jump lay ahead of me. It was a water ditch with a bank in front of it. I did not know much about the strategy of taking a water ditch. We had a creek at home and that was as far as my water experience went. Sea Sprite had seemed to know what he was doing so far, though, so I gave him his head and grabbed a handful of mane, prepared to follow whatever he did.

As we got closer I saw that the water was too broad to jump. Apparently we were to jump off the bank into the water, and gallop through. That seemed straightforward enough. I prepared myself for the downward plunge as we approached the bank.

Then something white flew by, just in front of us. A lady's parasol, caught by the wind. Sea Sprite started sideways, but I kept going forward. I tried holding his mane and hooking my knee on the saddle, but as the momentum carried us both up the bank I found I could not stop our parting. I rolled through the air, slamming flat on my back on top of the bank and skidding over and down.

Splash!

The water was muddy, and I got some in my mouth, but I could not cough. All the air had been knocked from my lungs by the impact. I struggled to my feet, wheezing a little. Hans and Philip were already there, pulling me out of the water. The marquis was just behind, flinging aside his reins and running to help.

I rolled over on the bank and lay a minute. It seemed as if the whole city were there looking at me in a crowd of concerned faces.

"Are you all right, Albert?" asked the marquis.

I was all right, perfectly all right. Never better. But when I tried to answer, the sound that came out of my throat was rather like a long dead frog's ghostly death curse.

"Crooaakk!" I said, trying to sit up.

"No, no, no," said the marquis. "Lie down."

"He's all right," said Tybalt, casually poking his one unconcerned face in at me. "Just got the wind knocked out of him."

I nodded and pointed to him.

"I think he's right, your grace," said Philip, looking me over. He started to feel my collar bone and poke my ribs.

"All right," I said, my voice beginning to come back to normal. I pushed his hands away. "I'm all right."

The marquis breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, Albert," he said. "Let's get you back to the stable."

"Wait a minute," said Tybalt. "He should get back on the horse and take that jump again."

"Really, Stenbau," said the marquis. "I think that if Albert gains a little fear from this experience, he could use it."

"I wasn't thinking of the boy," said Tybalt with a grin. "It's the horse. He'll never take that jump again it he doesn't go over it now."

"I don't mind," I said. I was feeling a little stiff, but I could ride a horse. I could always ride a horse.

"No," said the marquis and Philip together.

"I'm okay," I said, getting up unsteadily. "I can ride."

In the end I did ride Sea Sprite back, but not over any jumps. I rode at a walk, with the marquis on one side and Philip on the other. The marquis thought I looked a little shaky to walk back, and I did not argue, because I always prefer to ride.

"I'm fine," I said again as I dismounted, but I was a little dizzy.

"I know," said the marquis. "But you had better go lie down a bit, before you go back to work. I'll stop by later."

"I'll look after him," said Philip. He shook his head as the marquis left. "What got in to Bloch?" he muttered. "Well, it's obvious that he doesn't have any more work for you to do, or he wouldn't have sent you off on Sea Sprite. I'd take the rest of the day off, Albert."

"It was just an accident," I said. "Any horse would have shied. I can ride Sea Sprite fine."

"I saw," said Philip.

"That was some ride," said Charles as he and Hans joined us with some of the other boys. "You'd have won for sure!"

"We'll have to start calling him Albert the Great," said Philip. "Just like Alexander. The only one to ride the raging Boucephalus, and _like_ it."

"Albert the Great," said Hans. "How do you like that?"

"I think I want to lie down," I said. It is funny how tired a fall can make you, more tired than hurt, and more tired than a full day's work.

"Make way," said Philip. "Let's get his excellency to bed. Then I'm off to see Bloch."

"Uncle Wil did this on purpose, I bet," said Hans.

"Uncle Wil had nothing to do with it," I said. "It was a lady's parasol."

"But he didn't know you could ride Sea Sprite," continued Hans. "I bet he wanted you to fall off."

"I _know_ he did," said Charles. "The old weasel."

* * *

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### Chapter XI - Nighttime Mischief

* * *

IN THE EVENING after my wild ride on Sea Sprite I felt on top of the world. I really had not had a bad fall. After resting a bit, and eating a full dinner, I took a walk around the palace to stretch and test out just how well I was. I was a bit stiff and sore, but nothing worse.

It was quite late, and night had fully fallen by the time I had come all the way around and was heading back for the stable. The moon was out, though, and as I strolled along behind the palace I could see the familiar form of the marquis pacing back and forth by the stable. A moment later he saw me, and he came out to greet me.

"Albert!" he said, joining me. "Are you feeling better?"

"I'm fine," I said. "I told you. I'm ready to take Sea Sprite out for another ride."

We had just then stepped into the full shadow of the stable and I could not see his face at all, but I could tell by the long pause he took before speaking what his face looked like.

"Albert, you shouldn't have been on that horse at all," he said. "I don't know what was on Bloch's mind. Sea Sprite should be left to Philip or the older boys."

"I get along with Sea Sprite better than anyone else, even Philip," I said. "He isn't dangerous. He just got spooked."

"He could have been hurt too, you know. You're responsible for more than yourself." He sighed and shook his head.

"I didn't think about that," I said. After a pause I lowered my voice. "Have you heard anything from Bartleby? About, you know, the lady?"

"Nothing yet," said the marquis. "I expect that will take a bit of time."

"Good," I said. "I heard Tybalt talking to one of his men today. He's got a spy on Bartleby, and another in the telegraph office."

"Really," said the marquis.

"He's watching all telegrams to and from Bartleby, and also you and the queen."

"Ah. Good work. Have you heard or seen anything else?"

"No, not really," I said. We stood silently in the shadows for a time. "What do you think?" I said at last.

"I fear she may be dead," he said in a very somber tone. "If I knew that for certain there would be nothing stopping me from going after them, but I also fear she's alive. I can't risk that they'd kill her if I press them too hard. I wish I knew what they were up to. Whatever it is, they're laying low."

"Maybe it's a plot to kill the queen," I suggested. "Do ya think?"

I heard him chuckle softly, which I must admit I expected, then unexpectedly, he stopped.

"Actually, Albert," he said quietly, "that's a possibility. I doubt it, because if it was that serious they wouldn't have kidnapped the woman, they'd have killed her outright. It might be a lesser plot against the queen, or it might have nothing to do with her at all."

"But you said she had something to tell the queen."

"Yes, but what? That bothers me, Albert. We really don't know anything at all. We have only a guess at who she is, no idea where she is, and as for the queen, well, she may have only wanted royal protection. But that," he added, "is what makes me think Hugo must be involved. Why would she want royal protection unless from a royal threat? She wouldn't need it from young Tybalt. He's a crafty devil, but a local constabulary could have saved her from him alone. Hugo, though, could have got round a constabulary. No, I think the only person she could trust was an equally powerful enemy of Hugo's, and that would be the queen."

"Unless she was crazy," I said, considering it.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if she was crazy, she might think she should go to the queen regardless of who was after her."

"True," he said. "Did she seem crazy to you?"

"No. But she didn't seem particularly _not_ crazy either. She was upset, as anyone would be, but she could always be that way. Or she could be irrational because she's frightened."

It was at this point that we heard a scream. It was not very loud and it came from above us, in the palace. The two of us moved forward as one and looked up. A second cry sounded and one of the unlit windows on the second floor burst open. A human figure swung out and crawled down the wall like a spider, using the decorative moldings as a handhold. As he dropped lightly to the roof of the portico, I realized that the thin, agile figure must be Tybalt. With a quick glance at the window he had just left, he swung off the roof and dropped to the ground, and there he stopped to lean against a column and light a cigarette.

The marquis checked himself before he left the shadow, and put out a hand to stop me, whispering, "what's he up to?" and glancing with alarm back up at the window. "That's Claire Linder's room."

There was now a light behind that window, but I could see nothing of the inside of the room. Below Tybalt tossed away his cigarette and dashed out into the open, all wild-eyed and in alarm.

"Claire!" he called up at the window. Claire's silhouette appeared at the window and tentatively she leaned out. "Claire, I thought I heard a scream."

"Oh, Tyb," she cried out. "Oh, Tyb, there was a man in here."

"Where? In...," he said, in seeming disbelief, pointing up at her.

"In here," she said, nodding. "In my room."

"No!"

"Yes! He...he grabbed me, then ran away when I screamed."

Tybalt whipped out his sword. "Where did he go?" he cried. "I'll kill him for you."

"I don't know," she called back, starting to whimper.

"I say," said Tybalt, lowering his sword. "Are you all right?"

"I think so," said Claire. "I'm only frightened."

"Oh, Claire," said Tybalt, sheathing his sword. He took a step and made a fantastic leap to reach the cornice of the portico, swinging up and climbing the wall as easily as he had come down. Once inside the window, she collapsed into his arms, and they moved out of sight.

The marquis snorted, and I swallowed a chuckle. I did think it was funny. The marquis, however, moved out of the shadow sharply, looking up at the window.

"It's about time somebody taught that young man some manners," he said, moving toward the palace.

"Do you think it will do any good?" I asked.

"Probably not," he said smiling grimly back at me. He moved on again, this time a little less purposefully.

After he had gone I thought I should have followed him, to see the scene between the two of them. I remained behind, though, because another thought was going through my head. I could not stop thinking about how easily Tybalt had gone up and down that wall, and whether I could do it too.

After about an hour of thinking, and walking around to survey the territory, I had pretty well decided that I could. I was just lacking in a place to climb _to_ , and a reason why. I was considering climbing to the balcony on the third floor when I saw, well to the side of the balcony, at the corner of the floor above, a light went on. The thing that drew my attention most, however, was the unmistakable silhouette of Prince Hugo that was framed in the window. By the agitated way he moved his head I thought he must be talking to someone.

There was a ledge that ran from the balcony to that corner, and a drain pipe that went up from there. I thought it might be instructive to listen in on Hugo's conversation.

Getting started was the hard part. I was not tall enough to make a running leap for the portico roof, as Tybalt had, but after a few moments of searching I found a rose trellis. It led near to the balcony, and looked sturdy enough.

I would never recommend climbing a rose trellis to anyone. The brambles put up quite a fight, and the whole thing was not quite as sturdy as it looked. I managed well enough, once I had succeeded in laying a hold of the trellis and not the thorny stems. It was slow work, and my new livery trousers were none the better for snags, but at last my hands reached the top of the trellis. I was up quite high, just below the third floor, but not so high as to make me dizzy when I looked down. I felt quite secure on my thorny ladder and the distance only made me feel some sense of accomplishment.

The trellis only went up to the top of the second floor, and to the bottom of the balcony. I found myself a full five feet from where I wanted to be, for my hands were on the top rail, and that is where I needed my feet to be in order to reach the balcony.

I climbed up a little higher, keeping my right hand on the top of the trellis and reaching out with my left. I could touch the corner post of the balcony railing, but no more.

As I stepped up a little higher yet I found myself doubling over with my feet near the hand that still held the trellis. I would have to let go of it soon, but I still had not a grip on the balcony. I stepped up a little higher once again, wedging my feet in among the brambles and rails for more security, but that, I am afraid, was too much for my balance. I grasped harder at the rail to stop myself, but a thorn bit into the fleshy part at the heel of my hand. My hand jerked, and then I toppled sideways.

For a moment my entire body was free of any support, save my feet on the rails, which were not under me, but in front of me. My arms wheeled wildly, reaching for any object, any solid surface to grasp. Then my left hand hooked on to something, and my right joined it. My fall stopped with a jerk that made me sway back and forth so violently that I thought I would lose my grip again.

I had fallen toward the balcony, thank heaven, for that had been the direction I was leaning in. My feet were still wedged in the trellis and my hands had caught on to a drain spout at the base of the balcony. I hung there for just a minute, a perfect right angle between my hands and feet. I was not sure what to do, or what to think, for that matter. I was still a bit stunned. The spout was shaped like a lion's head, and as I stared into its roaring face I could see the round pipe in its mouth. If it were to start raining the water would come smack into my face.

If I lost my grip on that spout, I thought, two things might happen. Most likely the force of the fall would pull my feet loose from the trellis and I would crash to the ground head first. At least I would be dead in an instant. The other possibility was that my feet would be wedged in proper, and the force of the fall would only break my ankles, and I would be left dangling there all night, in terrible pain, if I did not die from shock or exposure or whatever it is people die of when left dangling by broken ankles all night. If I survived I would have a lot of awkward questions to answer about how I got up there, and if I was taken to a doctor, and he got a good look at me, I would have a lot of even more awkward questions to answer.

That thought pretty well decided me to get out of the situation. Now that I at last had a hold on the balcony, I pulled with both my hands and feet to get an arm around the railing post. Once that was done I was able to work my feet loose from the trellis and inch my way up and at last over the railing.

I rested a moment on the balcony, then walked to the other end, shaking my tired arms to get the trembling out of them. I was feeling a mixture of fear, exhilaration and exhaustion that left me standing there saying, "Whew!" I remembered how Tybalt had zipped up and down that wall and thought he must have had a lot of practice.

Still, the next thought on my mind was not how I could get back down, but rather that on the rest of the way up I would be more careful. That would be easy enough, I thought as I looked at the wall. There was a nice wide ledge that led out from the balcony, and at the corner a sturdy drain pipe. I could see the pipe's silhouette against the sky, and it had thick fasteners every few feet. They would make good hand and foot holds. The fourth floor had a ledge, too, though smaller, but it was the corner window that I was going for. I would not have to come far from the pipe.

The window opened. I could not see who opened it, but a moment later I saw Prince Hugo lean out. Another head appeared behind his.

"Really Uncle, do you expect the birds to be spying on us?" It was Tybalt's voice, distant and barely audible.

"If you had been more careful," retorted Hugo, as I strained to hear, "we wouldn't be in this mess."

"If _I_ had been more...." Their voices drifted away to nothing as they left the window.

With this fresh incentive I jumped up on the ledge and sidled along it. I was able to move quickly because of how wide it was, and the only thing that slowed me was the thought of what would happen if someone popped a window open in my face.

At the corner I made the mistake of looking down and saw that I was now above the moat, making the ground some ten or fifteen feet further than I expected. I grabbed hold of the pipe until the slight sense of vertigo went away. I thought I had best not look down again.

The pipe was easy enough, like a tree with evenly spaced branches, and as long as I did not look down, it seemed like a mere tree. I had never developed much fear of heights, thank goodness.

The fourth floor ledge was smaller, but wide enough. I did not have to go far. Already I could hear the murmur of voices. I hugged the wall and moved cautiously along it until I reached the window frame.

The side of the window nearest to me was closed, and the farther side open halfway, which suited me for I could peek through the closed side without being hampered by the swung open sash.

They were moving about the room, which was very large, but not well lit, and I could not see them most of the time. I could only hear dimly what they were saying. Tybalt was speaking.

"Well, if we kill her," he said. "Dead, there's no obstacle left–legally _or_ morally."

" _Sigmond_ is the obstacle. He's the _only_ obstacle."

"Sigmond doesn't have to know."

"He'll know." The prince paused and when he spoke again his voice was louder, as if he had moved closer to the window. "He's obstinate. He's been fighting me from the start. Every single thing I do." I had not much liked Sigmond, but on hearing this my opinion of him jumped several notches.

"How did you raise your offspring to despise you so thoroughly?" said Tybalt with a note of amusement.

"Perhaps you can convince him."

"He doesn't like me any better than he likes you. But that's neither here nor there. We still have this woman shut up in your closet."

"I think we should move her to your estate."

"Don't be ridiculous!" snorted Tybalt. "They're watching me. Besides, we couldn't keep anything secret there. How do you think Mother would react if I brought another woman into her domain?"

"You should strangle that mother of yours."

"Me?" asked Tybalt, amused. "Not I! You try it."

"I have."

"Not so easy. But listen. The woman's a danger as long as she's here. She could escape, or be discovered, or whatever. But _outside_ of Lifbau–say exile in Africa or America or some godforsaken place like that–she wouldn't be much of a threat at all. We could pension her off, give her a nice isolated little home with a companion to keep an eye on her. Sigmond couldn't possibly object to that. And if she should be killed in a raid of local savages, why, Sigmond most likely wouldn't even hear of it."

"And these savages just happen to number among your friends?"

"I have a lot of friends. If you find it necessary I'm sure I can find some for you."

"How soon can you get her out of the country?"

"How much speed can you pay for?"

"Immediately. Every second she is here is a risk."

"A few days then. In the meantime, we have another little problem."

"Now what?" asked Hugo with impatience.

"Evidence."

"Evidence?"

"To her claims."

"We've taken care of the only witness, other than yourself and Sigmond."

"There are other kinds of evidence than witnesses. Think about it. Any fool can prove what she has to say, if only he knows what it is. It doesn't matter if she's alive, dead, or decides to keep her mouth shut. If it were to get out, even as a rumor, that would be that. On the other hand, my lady could get loose and announce it to the entire world, but without proof she would seem a fool. We could certainly prove her insane. Her wits are going quickly."

The sound of their voices began to fade as they moved away. I moved closer, peering through the glass to see their backs as they strolled off.

"You're planning to get rid of this evidence, of course," said Hugo.

"Me? All by myself? Of my own volition?"

Hugo snorted. "With my money in your pocket, naturally."

"Now that sounds like a good idea...."

Their voices faded just below clarity. They were moving into the other end of the room, and they still faced away from me, speaking in lower voices. I moved cautiously across the window to try to open the closed sash. That placed me where they would see me if they turned so I kept moving across to the other side. The ledge was narrower here because of the window, but I was able to hold onto the frame.

The sash unlatched easily and I pushed that side of the window part way open too. Still I had to strain my ears to hear anything.

"Tonight?" I heard Tybalt say, his voice raised. "Surely tomorrow...."

The prince interrupted him with some mumbling. I moved back into the open window in frustration. The light was dim, and I thought perhaps they would not see me.

"If you want my money you'll do it tonight," said Hugo, turning slightly. I thought he was turning toward the window and I quickly stepped sideways toward the shadow. Unfortunately, I had forgotten that I had partially opened the other sash.

I ran full into the edge of it. I collapsed on it, wrapping my arms over the top of it in an effort to stop from falling. It gave under my weight immediately and swung out. Almost as I realized that my feet were dangling five stories over the moat I was past it and the sash had swung me back against the wall. It happened too quickly for me to be afraid of falling, but I had a fear of the noise it made; not much, thank heaven, for my body had come between the sash and the stone wall, but it was enough to be heard. I was certain they were already coming to investigate.

The smartest thing to do would have been to sidle quickly around the corner, but I did not have time to be smart. I happened to look up and there I saw the cornice of the building, with its gargoyles and carvings and spouts. It was an easy climb from the top of the window.

I used the window's latch as a foothold to vault myself up within reach of the carving. Then, pulling at the small ledge in the cornice and pushing off the top of the window, I pulled myself up high enough to get my arms around a gargoyle.

Just in time, too, for as I pulled my feet up and out of the way, Tybalt's head appeared out the window. He looked down, and to each side, but not up.

"Nothing," he announced. "It must have been the wind. There's a breeze picking up."

Hugo's head appeared. "Someone could have gone in the next window."

"Not to worry. Sigmond's in that room."

"That worries me in itself."

"Look, he wants this as much as you do. He wouldn't have let it get this far otherwise."

"You had better get going."

"You can count on me, your Highness, as I count from your purse." With that he pulled the window shut.

I waited a moment to be sure they were gone. I was half leaning against the cornice, and not uncomfortable, while my lower half dangled. I moved my feet down slowly. They did not touch anything down there. I moved them around. Nothing. With the window closed I had no place to put my feet, no purchase to steady myself with to climb down, or to push off to get up any higher. I was stuck.

I waited a while, moving my feet in a vain attempt to find something, anything, to support myself on. All I succeeded in doing was tiring my arms. I wondered if I could hang on all night. Then I heard distant footsteps. I could not tell where they came from, but I assumed it was from the balcony or the moat walk below.

I turned my head to see who and where, but I had to lift myself up to look down and that made my position less secure. Again I was surprised at the distance to the ground. I had forgotten while I was concentrating on Hugo's conversation. It seemed as far as the sky, and for a minute I could not tell which direction was up. That may not seem so awfully important, but you try keeping from falling when you do not know which direction to avoid, and you will understand why my head started spinning. I grasped at the gargoyle to keep from falling in any direction. I pressed my face against the cool stone, eyes closed, and vowed not to look down again.

For the first time in my life I began to feel just a hint of panic. Usually I jump into things too fast to realize the danger, and once I realize it, it is either over with, or I am busy getting myself out of it. I had nothing to busy myself with now, though. My arms were rapidly tiring, and I did not even want to think about how far my feet were from helping me. I had nothing on my mind but that slowly growing fear, and as I hugged that gargoyle for dear life, I was too scared to even open my eyes again.

The dizziness was clearing. I pressed my face against the stone and willed it to go away faster. The footsteps sounded again. It did not sound as if they were coming from below. I began to get dizzy again, but then I realized that the footsteps were the reason I could not tell up from down. They were coming from above me, from the roof. I was so relieved, I nearly let go. I remembered seeing people on the roof now. They used it like a balcony sometimes.

I did not have much energy to yell, but I let out a feeble "help!" and hoped it could be heard.

The footsteps stopped.

"Help me," I called again. The footsteps started up again, getting closer. The thought crossed my mind that this could be Tybalt or Hugo making one last investigation about the sound outside the window, but at the moment I would just as soon be caught.

"Albert!"

I mustered the courage to open my eyes and look up. It was the marquis.

"Help!" I said with the energy of relief. He reached over and hauled me up by one arm. I collapsed onto the roof, so happy to have something solid under me.

"Albert, what on earth...?" said the marquis.

"Hugo's room's just down there," I said, pointing, and panting.

"So you thought you'd just have a quick climb down for a look?"

I shook my head. "Climb _up_."

"Up?"

"From the ground," I said. "It didn't go so well as when Tybalt did it."

He knelt down and looked at me with concern. "You did this because Tybalt did it." I shook my head but he continued. "I thought you admired him a little too much."

"No...," I said.

"Yes. Albert, that man is destructive. He does nothing but harm. Don't try to be like him."

"I'm not, but...."

"There's something wild in you, Albert," he added, sitting back and shaking a finger at me. I had thoroughly upset him. He had a wild worried look in his eyes. "And you had better learn to curb it before you get your neck broken. Or you end up like Tybalt von Stenbau. Do you want to be like that?"

"No."

"Nothing but harm to anyone," he continued.

"That wasn't why I climbed up there," I insisted, as he pulled me to my feet. "Listen! I climbed up to eavesdrop on Hugo."

"It was a damn fool thing to do," he said in a lecturing tone as he led me off to the door.

"Don't you want to know what I heard?"

He stopped and looked at me with irritation. "All right. Let's hear it and be done with it."

"I think they are going to kill the queen," I said. I know, it was a silly thing to blurt out, but I felt exaggeration might make him listen.

The marquis crossed his arms and tilted his head. "What exactly did they say?" His tone was skeptical and disapproving.

"Well, they _were_ talking about killing the lady," I said. "And Tybalt is up to something important tonight."

I described the conversation in as much detail as I could. It had been a mistake, what I had said about killing the queen, but as I spoke now, I could see he was forgetting his irritation at me. He was interested and saw that I had heard something important. By the time I was done he was quite excited.

"Good job, Albert!" he said, all enthusiasm. Then he stopped himself and started to shake his finger at me again.

"I'm _not_ going to do it again," I said, before he could think of another lecture.

"Good lad," he said, patting me on the back. "It isn't worth getting your neck broken." I nodded solemnly and we rushed down the stairs to the stable.

* * *

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### Chapter XII - After the Fox!

* * *

THE MARQUIS SENT me ahead to the stable, to see if Tybalt's horse was still there. Regis was there, and there was no sign yet of Tybalt. I then went to saddle the marquis' horse, as I had been instructed to do. That done, I went, as I had _not_ been instructed, to get my own bridle.

Before I could get it, Tybalt entered the stable, and I had to hide. He was very quiet. I could not hear him at all, but I could see him move in and out of the shadows. He had his horse saddled quickly, and soon led him out. Regis himself made little noise, for a miracle.

The instant Tybalt was gone I saw another shadow move. The marquis. He went to his own horse, pulling the animal quietly from its stall. I slipped into the tack room and got my bridle, hoping I would not be too late to follow them. I knew I did not have time to get my saddle, so I slipped onto Jupiter's back right there in the stall.

I paused in the yard, listening to hear which way they went. There were many more sounds than I had noticed before at night, but presently I picked out the clip clop of a horse at a trot. I rode in that direction, south, and saw a grey horse and rider, Tybalt, heading east down the park road. He was at quite a distance already, but I could hear the hoof beats ring out on the hard road surface.

I did not see the marquis right away. He was much closer, and rode at a walk on the dirt to the side of the road. He was sitting tall, watching the man on the grey, and waiting. He then must have judged that Tybalt had enough distance, for he suddenly urged his mount to a good road trot. It was only then that I could hear his faint hoof beats, for the softness of the earth had made the slower pace inaudible.

They were going along the park. I realized that I could cut across it without being seen, and the sod would muffle my sounds.

I waited until Tybalt was at a very dim distance, and cantered onto the park. The trees and bushes broke up my view of the road but they also made me hard to see. I chose a path relatively far from the road so they could not hear me, and broke into a gallop. After a fair distance I slowed and quietly returned to the road. I hid myself in the bushes and looked out. Tybalt was not far ahead. He crested a hill just then, pausing at the top, and disappeared behind it. I looked back and saw the marquis had picked up his pace.

I did not like the way Tybalt had stopped at the top of that hill. It was almost as if he were listening for the marquis' hoof beats. I pulled back from the bushes and ran ahead to just beyond the crest. On the other side Tybalt had stopped and waited at the side of the road, watching patiently. Checking to see if he was being followed. I slipped back to warn the marquis.

I came out of the woods with the hill between me and Tybalt to shield any sound. I waved frantically and the marquis pulled his big bay to a halt.

"Albert!" he said quietly. "What are you doing here?"

"Tybalt's waiting for you on the other side of that hill," I said.

"Oh, he is, is he?" He looked askance at me.

"I thought you might need help, so I came up the park," I explained.

"Would it do any good to send you home?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"Then you'll keep well behind me," he replied. "As far as I keep from him. When I want you to come up I'll signal you with my arm over my head, and to stay back, I'll wave out to the side. Got that?"

"Yes, sir."

"And mind you, you _listen_ when I tell you to stay back."

"I will." I only wanted to see what was happening.

The marquis went with me back to the park. We watched until Tybalt had given up his watch, no doubt still somewhat wary. The marquis liked my idea of galloping up the park. He used it himself, having me stay behind to see that Tybalt did not turn off while the marquis was running ahead.

Tybalt seemed to be dallying a while, still trying to catch anyone following him. Then he apparently gave that up. At the end of the park he took up a faster pace, raising out of his saddle and heading across country. I ran to Jupiter and watched him shoot across the field. The gray flank of Regis was easy to see in the darkness. The marquis appeared only as Tybalt vanished in the distance, a small black figure setting a furious pace.

I did as he bid me, and only just kept him in sight. That was hard enough, for Tybalt was running hard. Unlike Regis, the marquis' horse was bay and hard to see in the dark. Tybalt was up to no tricks anymore, however. He made a bee line across the back of the park and northwest. It was a good thing for me. Had he not gone in a straight line I would have lost them altogether. As it was I lost sight of the marquis' tail only to come up on the main road north and see him ahead, riding slower and entering a small village.

By the time I reached the village he had come to a stop. He put out a hand for me to stop, and looked about, as if bewildered. He had lost the scent. He gestured for me to come and pointed down a street. I rode down it cautiously, while he took another. I saw no sign of our quarry. After searching a short while we met again in the square in front of the village church. The marquis bit his lip and shook his head.

"He disappeared somewhere in here," he said. We sat a moment casting about for a way we had not checked.

"Do you think this was another trick to lose us?" I said.

"Could be."

Something moved by the church. I tugged the marquis' sleeve and pointed. Slowly he moved around to see better.

"His horse," he whispered, dismounting. I dismounted and took his reins. From beside him I could see Regis tied near the back of the church, by the north transept, but there was no other sign of Tybalt.

"Take the horses to the other side and keep to the shadows," he said, taking a pistol from his saddlebag. "And _wait_ for me."

I did as I was told, though I was itching to follow him inside. Horses need to be held, and I held them. He, in the meantime, crept soundlessly to the main doors and disappeared inside.

The church itself was not much, an old village church which aspired to cathedraldom, at least in architecture. I waited by the south transept for five minutes, which seemed interminable. There was a ring and post right in front of me. It was made for tying horses, and me not being one to resist temptation very hard, I tied the horses there and left.

The door to the transept was locked, but the front door was still ajar. I slipped into the darkness, covering my eyes for a moment to help them get accustomed more quickly. I still could see little. I crept up the center, hugging the pews. There was more light up near the altar, with the candles.

There was no one to be seen. Still I kept low and crept further. I came at last to the end of the pews where I could look down the transept at each side.

The marquis was there, pressed back against a pillar and looking down the south transept. A door was ajar beyond him and a light could be seen behind it. There were faint sounds coming from that room. The marquis began to walk cautiously toward it.

From my position behind the first pew I could not see very clearly, but just across the transept hall, in front and to one side of the altar, was an octagonal pulpit. It was raised some eight feet above the floor, and offered an excellent view of the entire church, including the door with the light behind it. I crept as quietly as I could and climbed its small stair.

The door below me moved, and the marquis slipped back into the shadow. Tybalt emerged, closing the door behind him. As he came forward I could see him smile. He walked right by my pulpit. I cold have reached down and grabbed his curly hair. That would certainly have surprised him, but it would have surprised the marquis too, and in the long run I could not see that it would do any good.

"Hold still, Stenbau," the marquis called just then. His voice boomed across the hall. It was a small church and not all stone, but the effect was still rather good.

Tybalt twisted and jumped back. He crouched like a cat and looked for where the voice was coming from. The marquis stepped into the light, his gun leveled at Tybalt's heart.

"Drop that pistol, please," he said. "Slowly."

Tybalt hesitated, then he carefully obeyed.

"That's right," said the marquis. "Now kick it over here."

The pistol skittered across the stone and disappeared into the darkness. The marquis relaxed, slightly.

"Now," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"What else?" answered Tybalt. "Worshipping.

"Worshipping the Devil."

"To each his own."

"Let's take a look in that room."

"Be my guest," said Tybalt, chuckling.

"You lead the way."

Tybalt bowed and moved out broadly, rather carelessly. The marquis followed and as the two figures came together Tybalt lurched. There was a struggle and then a bang and a flash. The bang was so loud it filled the church and the two figures came apart.

Neither was apparently hurt by the shot, but the marquis had lost his gun. Now he had his sword in hand. Tybalt drew his own instantly, and for a moment the two faced one another. Then Tybalt made a wild attack. It was only to clear the ground for an escape, but the marquis stood his ground and Tybalt could only flee up the stair to the choir. The marquis quickly followed.

Soon I heard them struggling in the choir above me. I could see nothing, though, except I thought once there was a glint of steel.

Suddenly something dark flew out over my head. A human figure, I could not tell who it was, dropped to the pulpit and flattened me.

"Ow!" I said as I hit the stone parapet. A sabre blade flashed by my ear and now rested on my shoulder.

"Damn!" It was Tybalt whom I tangled with. "Ah, Pipsqueak!" He was sitting on my right knee, with one boot very nearly in my face, and the other somehow tucked under my knee, the same knee he was sitting on. I pushed his foot away from my face and tried to get up, and could not. Then he tried to get up and could not.

"Albert? Where are you?" The marquis was directly above us, leaning over. Tybalt finally struggled to his feet and vaulted down the stairs. I grabbed a hold of his foot as he went. I heard him curse as he fell and his sword clattered to the floor. Then I had to throw myself on top of him, for the marquis was now leaping to the pulpit and I did not want to be flattened by his bulk as well.

Tybalt was already up and moving by the time I jumped. I only bumped past him and rolled to the foot of the stair. He jumped over me and ran to retrieve his sword. He was limping, I noted with satisfaction. The marquis leapt over me, nearly stepping on me in the darkness. I began to see what it was like to fall off the front runner in a horse race.

Tybalt had disappeared when I got up and the marquis was halfway down the aisle looking for him among the pews. I rubbed the back of my head, which had received a sharp crack in my tumble, and sat on the steps.

The marquis started to turn back toward me, and Tybalt suddenly rose up just behind him, sword raised to strike.

"Look out!" I yelled, and the marquis turned in time to parry. Then they fought. I still could not see them well in the darkness, but I saw well enough. Tybalt was a bit of slapdash motion, harder to see, but easier to identify. The marquis was steady and determined. He was winning, too. Tybalt was hampered by his limp. They seemed to get dimmer, their forms obscured more yet by a blur of darkness. I rubbed my head again. A haze was building between myself and them, and I wondered how bad a knock I had got. I was not dizzy, but the haze got worse. Then I noticed the smell.

"Fire!" I shouted, jumping up. "Fire!"

My shout broke up the fight. The marquis paused and turned, and Tybalt fled.

The haze was heavy in the south transept, but through it I could see a glowing line. The fire was behind the door Tybalt had come from. The marquis ran to it but was driven back by the smoke. I ran down the aisle to the bell tower near the front door.

In the darkness I could make out three large ropes. I took a running leap at the nearest one. The deep clang shook the room, and the weight of the bell pulled me up in the air. I swung back and forth, clanging it some more. The marquis joined me in a moment and rang another bell, but after that he grabbed me by the waist and dragged me out into the open.

People were already coming. The town was awake and I could see windows lighting faintly in all directions. Lanterns were swinging toward us like drunken lightning bugs.

Among the first to arrive was Tybalt. He had the pastor and the town constable with him, and they were backed up already by a brigade of sturdy, bucket equipped citizens. Tybalt was talking while the others listened.

"... I smelled the smoke and I ... Oh! I forgot to tell you about the thief!" he said as he spotted us. "When I went in to put the fire out I was attacked by a thief. He may have started it."

"A thief?" asked the constable.

"Oh dear," said the priest.

"There may have been two of them," Tybalt continued.

"That was no thief," said the marquis, stepping up to them. "And you weren't trying to put _out_ the fire."

"Why! The Marquis von Furlenhaur!" said Tybalt, turning in surprise. "Was it you? I took you for a thief."

"You knew very well who it was."

"I'm sorry but I didn't." He acted as if he were astonished. "I beg your pardon. The light was so bad. This is the Marquis von Furlenhaur, Father," he turned to the priest, " _He's_ certainly no thief."

"Certainly not," said the constable quickly, "but my lord...."

"I'm not," agreed the marquis, "but this man is. I just now caught him at mischief in there."

"Come now, Furlenhaur," said Tybalt. "Just because I mistook you for a thief, there's no need to be a bad sport."

"You didn't mistake me."

"I did, sir. Honestly I did."

"My Lords!" said the constable. "There's time for quarrelling later. Let's save the church first?"

That could not be argued with. The fire was not yet so big that most of the church could not be saved. The marquis and the constable set to organizing the bucket brigade. I was put at the tail end, at the fountain filling buckets with two village boys. Tybalt, not to be outdone, flew by with a troop of housewives, equipped with wet brooms and sacks to beat out the flames. The flames, though, were burning upward, beyond their reach, and the smoke inside was too thick for the bucket brigade.

Then another brigade arrived, men carrying great hooks, twenty feet long. They lifted these hooks to the flaming timbers and pulled the wreckage down. On the ground the women descended to slap out the embers and the bucket brigade was soon able to throw water into the building through the holes made in the walls.

Filling the buckets was hard work, especially after the wild day I had had. After a while I could no longer lift them out of the fountain by myself. Neither could the other boys. We had to team up.

* * *

THE FIRE WAS finally out. Smoke hung all through the town like stinking fog. Our clothes and hair were soaked with it and our eyes and noses stung. Superficial damage extended throughout the church, but the only structural damage was confined to the transept itself.

While the townspeople milled about to inspect the ruins, I went to find the marquis. I saw Tybalt huddled with the town constable and the priest. They were deep in conversation and the constable was nodding and writing things down.

"Albert!" The marquis was behind me. "There you are. Have you seen that constable?"

I pointed across to Tybalt's group.

"Ah," said the marquis. "Getting his story in quick, isn't he?"

The marquis went to the constable and drew him aside. I followed.

"Terrible accident, my lord," said the constable, turning a page in his notebook and waiting for the marquis to speak.

"That was no accident, I'm certain," said the marquis.

"I thought you might say that," said the constable with a sigh. "All right. What is your story? My lord."

"Tybalt Stenbau started it, probably purposefully," he replied, ignoring the sigh. "I followed him here, knowing he was up to some mischief."

"You followed him, you say?" There was something a bit sarcastic in the constable's voice. "So you heard _beforehand_ he was going to set fire our church?"

"No," said the marquis. "I did not actually know what he was going to do."

"But you _saw_ him start it?"

"I saw him come out of the room where it started."

"But you didn't actually see him set the fire."

"No."

"I see," said the constable, and he began to put away his notebook.

"He was in that room just before it started," said the marquis, a bit flustered.

"Or just after," said the constable. "My lord, Father Teller himself started the fire. He's done it before. He's too thrifty to throw out that bad lantern, and too forgetful to remember to blow it out."

"Constable, I was _there_ ," insisted the marquis.

"I know you were there," said the constable, suddenly impatient. "And I know _he_ was there too. But begging your pardon, my lord, I do wish you people would keep your aristocrat feuds at the palace where they belong. Don't bring them out here."

"I didn't bring it out here," said the marquis. "He did."

"Perhaps so," answered the constable. "And I'll admit to you that I thought he was a liar from the first, but can you promise the funds to rebuild the church?"

"Can _I?_ "

"He has. Through his uncle, Prince Hugo."

"So that's it."

"Yes, that's it," said the constable. "I would arrest him for you, if you insisted, but he's gone, and it would not do this town any good, and that's what I'm pledged to protect."

"Gone?" said the marquis. Tybalt had been talking with the priest, but now the priest stood alone, contemplating his church. "But you can't be sure that he'll carry through on such a promise, or even if Hugo will agree."

"Hugo has been good to this town," said the constable stubbornly. He rubbed the soot off his forehead and knitted his brow. "What would that young man want with our church, anyway?"

"That's what I want to know," said the marquis. "I'd like to speak with Father Teller, if I may."

"Certainly," said the constable.

Father Teller stood among the charred timbers and smoke half smiling. He saddened when he saw us.

"An old man's folly," he said, shaking his head. "I have such a poor memory any more, and it was so careless of me to leave that lamp burning."

"If you have such a poor memory, Father," said the marquis, "how can you be sure you did leave it burning."

"This didn't start itself," he said, gesturing at the ruins.

"No, I'm sure it didn't," said the marquis. "That's why I want to talk to you."

"Oh, dear," said the priest apprehensively.

"I'd like to know what was lost. What was in that room where it started?"

"My office? Well, quite a few things. My desk, for instance. It was rather valuable. Sentimentally too, you know. It belonged to Bishop Rank many years ago. Oh!" The priest suddenly put his hand to his head. "His memoirs! I'd forgotten. He was pastor here long ago–twenty years? Perhaps twenty-five. He left us all his papers recently. They were kept in that room."

"What sort of things were in them?" asked the marquis. "Anything of importance?"

"Anything of importance? They dealt with just about everything that's happened in Lifbau, and elsewhere, for the past twenty years or more. He was a friend of Prince Hugo, you know. Perhaps that's why he will help us now. A saintly man, the prince. Very pious."

"Very pious indeed," said the marquis with a sigh. "What else was lost?"

"The parish records, of course, or at least some of them. The very oldest records were stored away in the archive, but the last ten or fifteen years. Let's see, they covered our finances, and births, deaths and weddings. And baptisms, of course. Oh, and my papers were in there too. The were only important to me, though. I need them to refresh my memory."

We could discover little else of what was lost. The priest promised to write if he thought of anything, but he doubted he would. Soon we found ourselves going back to the palace.

"I have failed, Albert," said the marquis as we rode along. "That man runs rampant, and I sit as if my hands were tied."

"You didn't know he was going to set fire to the church."

"You see how destructive he is?" continued the marquis. "You see what I mean?"

"Yes, sir."

"It's not just in this sort of thing, either. It's in this whole business of flaunting the rules. That's partly your problem too, Albert. Not all rules may seem fair, or important, but break one of them and you damage them all. Now, that man is bent on breaking them all. He's a danger to the whole of society."

"Yes, sir."

"I should have had him arrested. I should have the whole countryside looking for him."

"But what about the lady?" I asked.

"Yes, her."

"Now we know she's alive. We can't risk that they'll kill her."

"You're right, of course. I wonder what he was after?"

"The church records?"

"Or the bishop's records. You know, Albert," he said, turning to look at me. "Do you remember when Bishop Rank died?"

I shook my head.

"It was about a year ago. He was fond of shellfish, the bishop was. He used to have it brought in from Italy, fresh. Some of it went bad on him. How easy do you think it would be to make _sure_ the shellfish went bad?"

"Very easy?"

"I would think so. I was suspicious of that at the time."

"So the bishop may have been murdered. And the lady may know about it!"

"It's possible," said the marquis. "Albert, he wasn't just fond of shellfish, he was fond of opera. That's how he came to be friends with Hugo, and Duke Sigmond."

"They were talking about having taken care of the only witness, they must have been talking about the lady," I said. "The bishop's papers may have some clue to the murder."

"Not have, _had_. They don't have any clues to anything now. But it does give us some new possibilities to consider."

* * *

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### Chapter XIII - Sea Sprite's Dam

* * *

AFTER SUCH AN active day, and such a late night, I overslept. It was the first time, and I felt I had a good reason, but Bloch did not agree.

"So nice of you to put in an appearance for us," he said as I entered the yard. "You've been so busy lately, I find it an honor that you even remember where you work. Or did you wander in by accident?"

"I was working for the Marquis von...," I began.

"The marquis! The marquis!" he snorted. "It's always the marquis. You don't work for him, you know. You work for me. And that goes for the rest of you," he added, looking at the other boys in the yard, and especially hard at Philip.

"I'm sorry I'm late," I said.

He paused to snatch a mucksack out of Hans' hands, and he flung it smack in my face.

"You are cleaning _all_ of the stalls in the south wing today, Albert, and when you're done with that you can help out in the other wings. Hans, come with me."

I trudged through work all morning. It went pretty slow. By now I was really beginning to feel stiff, and I must say that my knee hurt where Tybalt had landed on it. I had, however, slept soundly enough to feel rested, and the activity was working the stiffness out of my muscles.

I was carrying out my twenty-seventh load of horse manure to the pile–I was keeping track for lack of anything better to do–when I noticed that Hans and Charles had stopped work to watch something in one of the paddocks. I dumped my load and joined them.

Tybalt stood out in the middle of that paddock, whistling Regis into a gallop. Suddenly he broke into a run and vaulted onto the animal's back. The effort blew his cap off. He turned Regis around, apparently guiding the horse with his knees. As he rode by the cap he swung down as he had at the tournament, and tried to snatch it up. He missed and, rather than stopping the horse, he vaulted off again, landing in a somersault that put him on his feet again. He strolled over and dusted off the hat.

"How can he do that?" said Charles, shaking his head in awe.

"Seems he can do just about anything he wants," I said.

"He's a show off," said Hans.

"Exactly," I said, and we all stifled a chuckle.

Tybalt, seeing that he had an audience, whistled and clapped his hands at Regis once more, chasing him a bit to get him really galloping. The horse tossed his head and snorted. As Tybalt made his approach run, Regis twitched his tail. The man leapt into the air, reaching for a handful of mane, but the horse fluidly sidestepped him. Tybalt landed on his face in the dust.

"Damn you, Regis," he called, as we broke into laughter. "Halt, beast!"

Regis halted right in front of us. Tybalt broke into a run and vaulted over the horse's rump and onto his back.

"Good way to get your teeth kicked in," whispered Charles.

Regis galloped away, and Tybalt turned to ride backwards for a moment, tipping his hat and thumbing his nose at us.

When he finally vaulted off again for the last time, Hans and Charles applauded, and I had to join them. Tybalt bowed gracefully. He tried to get Regis to bow too, but the horse had had enough and with a leap and a kick he galloped away.

The others then moved back toward the stable, but I stayed on just a second longer, leaning thoughtfully on the fence. Tybalt saw me before I could move, and he called to me and came over. I reminded myself of the night before and quickly put a frown on my face.

"Don't give me that disapproving look!" he said. I grinned. I did not really feel that disapproving. "That's better. You've been spending too much time with Furlenhaur."

"Maybe you should spend more time with him."

"I've spent enough time with him, thank you."

"He thinks I'm spending too much time with you."

"Getting ideas put into that innocent little head of yours, eh?" he said. "It isn't so innocent though, is it, Albert?"

I shook my head and looked at Regis, who still snorted about the paddock.

"Would you like to learn to do that?" he said, jerking his thumb toward his horse.

"Vaulting?" I said eagerly. "I'd like to very much! I mean, I might," I added, trying to dim my obvious enthusiasm.

"You _might?_ "

"I might, from somebody honest." I tilted my head and looked for his reaction out of the corner of my eye. He burst out laughing.

"Albert, you look just like Regis when he's got trouble up his snoot!" He chuckled. "I assume you mean you won't take vaulting lessons from me."

"That's right."

"Why not?"

"You burn down churches, among other things."

"I had nothing to do with that. That fire was caused by a faulty lantern and a careless priest. I tried to put it out." He paused and frowned at me. "Alvin, you should know better than to make an outright accusation. What would you say if I were to accuse you of whatever it is you are hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything."

"Of course you are. I can see it plain as day. You're just a devious at I am, Pipsqueak."

"That's not a very nice thing to say," I said, feeling a little uncomfortable.

"Oh, isn't it? It's the truth. You're just like me, I can tell. Now stay here," he said, reaching through the fence as I started to turn away. He vaulted over the fence. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. I can't. I don't even know what your little secret is. Just be sure Furlenhaur doesn't find out."

"I have nothing to hide from Johan."

" _Johan_ again. Then you've told him all about yourself. Did you? Did you?" I dropped my eyes and he chuckled. "I thought not. And it's a good thing, too. Furlenhaur is a nice fellow, but he just doesn't understand mischief. You can't trust honest people, Albert. They _always_ do what's right."

"I'd better get back to work," I said, turning away. He caught my shoulder and pointed at Regis.

"You've got a much better horse for vaulting than him, you know," he said quietly in my ear. "He's quiet and obedient. But with your quick wits and gumption, you'll soon be vaulting on and off any horse in the stable. Even Sea Sprite."

"How long would it take to learn?" I asked after a slight hesitation. He grinned as if he had won something.

"You'll have to learn tumbling first," he said. "Can you do a standing somersault?"

"Of course," I said. He pulled me back from proving it.

"You'll have to be able to do it from a galloping horse's back. Let's see," he said, rubbing his chin. "I want you to work your way up to this." He patted the top of the fence, about five feet high. "When you can do a standing somersault from the top of this fence, I'll teach you vaulting."

"Sure," I said, scrambling up the fence. He caught me by the belt and hauled me back down.

"Wait a minute!" he said. "What the devil to you think you're doing? Do you want to break your neck? You'll never learn to vault with your head wobbling around loose."

He took hold of my head and wobbled it around to illustrate. "Start with the mounting block over there, and work your way up, a little at a time," he said, still holding my head between his hands. He paused. Something had caught his eye. I looked from the corner of my eye and saw Duke Sigmond approaching. Tybalt forced my look back to himself. "Now, don't go breaking your neck, right?" he admonished me, and went to greet the duke.

I watched them go back toward the palace. Sigmond seemed angry, but I could not tell whether he was scolding Tybalt, or complaining to him. Tybalt was shaking his head, but he was also keeping an eye on me, otherwise I would have followed. I went to the mounting block instead and tried a few tumbles before I went back to work.

* * *

"WHAT ON EARTH are you doing?" Hans asked me.

I was standing on the manger in Jupiter's stall, about to dive into the fresh clean straw strewn over its floor. I was myself strewn with straw, for it was going to be my third dive.

"I'm practicing my tumbling," I said. Hans shook his head.

"Do you really think Tybalt is going to teach you vaulting?"

I paused and thought. "Yeah, actually," I said at last. "He went to a lot of trouble to convince me to let him."

"And now that he's convinced you, he won't do it."

"Maybe not. But then I'll get somebody else to teach me. Or I'll teach myself."

"Or break your neck."

"You're the third person to say that to me. You think they're trying to tell me something?"

Hans laughed. "Yeah, I think so."

I jumped down and strolled through the straw.

"You had better brush that straw off your jacket. Hugo's horse is here," said Hans.

"Really?" I said, brushing myself quickly and turning my back so Hans could get where I could not reach.

"That's what I came for. They're just bringing her into the yard. Uncle Wil's as excited as can be. He'll want us to look perfect."

We passed by Charles on our way to the yard. He was talking to another boy, a tall boy with another kind of uniform.

"That's him," said Charles, pointing at me.

The other boy raised his eyebrows and looked me over doubtfully.

"A wire for you, Herr ... Albert," he said.

"What?"

"A telegram. Do you even know what a telegram is?"

"Of course I do," I said, but I could not think of who would be sending me a telegram. Celeste did not even know where I was. "Where from? Who?"

"See for yourself," said the boy, handing it to me. "You're supposed to give me a tip," he added in a whisper.

"I know," I whispered back. "I work for tips too."

I handed him some pfennigs I had in my pocket, and then tore open the envelope. It was from London. "Albert, Royal Stables, Lifbau," was how it was addressed.

"Mrs. MacGuffin missing five years stop nothing else but rumors coming home now." It came from a Sarah Watkins, Niece of B.

Niece of B?

Bartleby! So he had out-foxed Tybalt after all. I looked up to see Hans and Charles looking at me expectantly.

"It actually isn't for me," I said. They looked confused at that. "I'm kind of a go-between."

The looked at one another, still unsure.

"Come on," I said. "Let's go look at Hugo's mare."

* * *

THE MARE WAS beautiful. I could see right off that she was Sea Sprite's dam. Her markings were exactly like his, even her size and build were similar. The main difference was that she was lighter in the neck and shoulders, and heavier in her sagging broodmare's belly.

"Looks an awful lot like Sea Sprite," I said.

"But she doesn't act like him at all," said Hans. "Look at what an angel she is."

"Bloch's still scared of her," said Charles.

Bloch really was. He kept a suspicious distance while Philip led her back and forth for the prince. The mare led very quietly and obediently. Even when a stableboy across the yard dropped his pitchfork with a clang, she only twitched her ears and looked. When Philip at last brought her to a stop in front of Hugo she stood patiently, nuzzling him and letting him cuddle her ears.

"A truly fine mare, Your Highness," said Philip more earnestly than usual. Bloch, seeing at last that the mare was safe, bustled up and shooed Philip away, taking the lead himself.

"What do you want done with this beautiful creature, Your Highness?" he asked with a bow. He held the rein as if it were attached to a statue, rather than a live animal, snapping it and ignoring the horse all together. The mare, however, was so docile that she ignored him too.

"Rest her," said Hugo abruptly. "And clean that road dust off her. I want her well groomed and energetic this afternoon. I'm showing her to a friend of mine, the banker Herr Stenner. I'm offering to let him buy her, so pay particular attention to him."

"When exactly will you want her?"

"Bring her to the terrace at three o'clock, and have her fit. I want him to be impressed."

"I'll bring her myself."

"Of course you will."

Bloch bowed again as the prince marched off to the palace. Then he handed the rein to Philip.

"See that this mare is perfect," he said. "I must see to my own grooming."

Philip led her to the empty box stall in our wing of the stable. It was actually Sea Sprite's stall. Sprite had been moved to a standing stall, but nobody had the guts to tell him, so he was out to pasture. Hans and I showed up with brushes in our hands.

"Can we brush her?" we asked.

"Sure," said Philip, and the three of us set about making her perfect, as ordered. We curried and brushed and combed until we had to stop for fear her fur would come off. Then Bloch came back. He glanced in at the mare and nodded.

"Well, Philip?" he asked gruffly. "You have other work to do, I think. Get to it. I'll see to this now."

"Nothing left to see to," I whispered to Hans. Philip shrugged and went away, while Bloch shooed us off to our work. In a way I was glad Bloch had relieved Philip of responsibility for the mare, for an idea had popped into my head.

"That mare sure looks like Sea Sprite," I said to Hans after Bloch left.

"Yeah?" he said suspiciously.

"Wouldn't it be funny if Bloch got Sea Sprite by mistake when he took her to the terrace?"

"He wouldn't do that."

"I bet he would. He never gives the horses a second glance. He wouldn't notice the difference."

"He would the instant Sea Sprite took a hunk out of his arm."

That was hard to argue with. Still, I did not want to give up my idea. A few moments later I came back.

"We could use a drop nose band," I said. "Then he could only nip a little, not bite. That wouldn't surprise him. You saw the way he looked at her out there."

"If you think you can get away with it," said Hans after a minute. "I won't stop you.

"I'll need your help," I said. "But if I get caught I did it all by myself."

"All right," he said. "After all the times I've had to handle that beast, it's about time _he_ did."

* * *

PHILIP NEARLY RUINED our plan, because he was eager to look after the mare himself. Bloch, however, sealed his own fate for us by sending Philip out front to look after carriages. With no supervision I was able to bring Sea Sprite in and groom him up well, even to the point of putting a ribbon in his mane to make him look sweeter. He did not like the ribbon, but he was feeling tolerant after a half day's romp in the paddock. Then Hans simply put the mare in the standing stall, and I put Sea Sprite back in his own stall. At three o'clock Bloch entered the stable and I offered him the bridle. He told me to do the bridling. He even let me lead Sprite out into the yard for him.

Sea Sprite was perplexed by the drop noseband. He was too distracted by it to make immediate trouble. Bloch took the reins from me and started on his way. Sea Sprite tossed his head and brought his shoulder against the stableman's back. Bloch stepped aside, holding the reins at arms length. It was only then that he realized the horse was not going to follow him like a child's toy on a string. He probably regretted not having Philip along, but he still thought himself in control. He set off again with a jerk on the reins and a curse on his lips.

Hans and I rushed ahead to where we could watch the scene. As we passed through the other end of the stable, Charles and a couple of other boys stopped us.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"Bloch's bringing the mare around for Hugo," I said.

"Only he got Sea Sprite by mistake!" added Hans.

"What?" said Charles. The three of them jumped up to join us. We came to the trees behind the terrace, where we could see the backs of the people seated there.

Hugo was there, and his banker friend, but so were several others. I felt some regret then, for among the others were the marquis and a quiet little woman I realized was the queen. Duke Sigmond was sitting beside her, looking rather gloomy as he turned his profile to me. Off to one side was Tybalt, standing beside his seated mother.

Bloch and Sea Sprite came into view, struggling. Sea Sprite was getting impatient now. He had broken into a trot, and Bloch was puffing hard to keep up, jerking the reins, which made Sea Sprite lay his ears back.

"Well," I said to Hans. "Hugo wanted her energetic."

Hugo was standing with his back to Bloch's approach. He was addressing the group, but in particular Herr Stenner.

"She's a fine mare," he said. "Best blood Lifbau has to offer. Dropped nothing but the best of foals. She's beautiful, and she has the temperament of a dove."

"Beautiful, yes, but ... ," said Stenner, looking beyond him. Hugo turned to see the horse and man charge up to the terrace.

"Stop, damn you!" said Bloch as he hauled the animal around in a circle to stop its charge. Sea Sprite stamped a forefoot and shook his mane. The ribbon was already in disarray. The ears were back and the eyes were rolling.

"Bloch!" said Hugo. "What's this?"

"This is your mare?" asked Herr Stenner. For a moment everyone sat still, watching Sea Sprite chew and strain at his noseband. Then Tybalt stepped forward with a chuckle.

"Uncle," he said. "Didn't anyone ever teach you the difference between boy-horses and girl-horses?" He collapsed with laughter into a chair. The banker slapped his knee and joined him. Even the marquis began to chuckle, while us stableboys in the back had long given over to snickering. The queen, however, rose slowly.

"Bloch, I think you've made a mistake," she said. "Surely that's Sea Sprite."

"Is this some kind of a joke?" bellowed Hugo, while Tybalt began to choke and cough. Bloch froze in horror, staring at the horse he had on his hands. He began to back away, but Sea Sprite followed with a stamp and a hop. "This is your doing," Hugo accused Tybalt.

"No, Uncle," said Tybalt. "Honestly."

At this point Sea Sprite had had enough. He stamped both front feet and tore away, right into the center of the people. The marquis pulled the queen away, and everyone scattered, knocking over chairs and yelling, everyone except the Viscountess von Stenbau. She stood and pointed imperiously at the horse.

"Tybalt!" she said. "Stop that beastly animal at once."

"Yes, Mother," he said, shoving her aside, onto her rear, but out of Sprite's path. He grabbed the trailing lead rein and leapt onto his back. Sprite came to a quick halt under sure handling, but not before the two of them demolished a teatable. Tybalt slipped off and led him back to Bloch, who seemed reluctant to take the reins back.

"I don't believe it!" came a voice behind me. Philip pushed his way through the crowd of stableboys. He stared at Bloch and Sea Sprite, then he looked down at me. "I guess I do believe it," he muttered. He trotted over to Bloch and took the reins.

"We better get back," said Hans. "I think we're in trouble."

* * *

A CLATTER OF hooves announced their arrival. Philip came first, with Sea Sprite, and he only rolled his eyes when he saw me. Bloch came after, face red, and pointing.

"There," he said to the marquis, who looked none too pleased himself. "There is the culprit. I know you like him, but I've complained about him before. What are you going to do about him?" Bloch was too angry to even show his usual respect for his betters.

The marquis ignored him. He fixed his eyes on me and gestured with one finger for me to follow him into the tack room.

"Well, Albert," he said crisply, once we were inside with the door closed. "I understand you were responsible for that."

"Yes, sir," I said right back.

"And sullen in the bargain?"

"No, sir," I said, dropping my gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"He deserved it," I said, looking up again.

"Albert ... ."

"He's head stableman!" I said. "He should be able to handle Sea Sprite, and he should know one horse from another."

"That doesn't excuse you," he said, shaking his head. "Somebody could have been hurt."

"I never meant...."

"I know. I know. I don't doubt your good intentions."

"What about me getting hurt? Or Hans?"

"Hans?"

"Bloch does everything out of spite. Do you know why I was riding Sea Sprite the other day? Because Bloch was mad at me and he expected I would get hurt."

"Albert, you can't be sure of such a thing."

"Everyone told me that right after!" I insisted. "He uses that horse to punish people. He has his nephew do most of the handling of him, and Hans is the last person in the world to handle Sea Sprite. It's about time somebody turned the tables on him."

"And you took it on yourself," he said sternly. "You know, you may have got him dismissed."

"He should be."

"Albert!"

"I smashed his window, too."

"What?"

"A week ago, with a rock."

"What am I going to do with you, Albert?" he said, clapping his hand to his forehead.

"I _am_ sorry."

"Sorry doesn't do anything. I can't let this go by. You knew Bloch would get into trouble with that animal, even if he should have known better."

I nodded and looked at the floor again. After a pause I heard him make a small strangled sound in his throat.

"You caused a great deal of embarrassment...," his voice squeaked in an effort to contain a laugh, "...to a member of the royal house!" He cleared his throat. "Thanks in part to Tybalt's comments."

"Yes, sir," I said and bit my lip to suppress a grin. "I'm sorry, sir." He sighed and became serious again, rubbing the back of his neck and frowning.

"I should lay into you with this," he said, shaking his riding crop at me, "but I'm not going to."

"You're not?"

"I did it to Tybalt once, when he was your age."

"Really?"

"Didn't do him a bit of good, but it did a world of good for the rest of us."

"Perhaps that's why he doesn't like you," I said, putting my hands in my pockets. I felt a piece of paper.

"Now, Albert. What am I going to do with...?"

"Oh!" I said, interrupting. I pulled out the piece of paper.

"What is it?"

"Oh!" I said. "The telegram! From Bartleby." I handed it to him. He read it, my misbehavior forgotten almost at once.

"Missing five years?" he said, scratching his head.

"That doesn't mean anything," I said. "She might have disappeared on her own, then been kidnapped only just now."

"Yes. Or not. I can't just ignore it," he said. "I'll have to look into what the bishop was doing five years ago. Oh dear. Now, Albert," he said, folding the paper and putting it in his breast pocket. "I don't want any more trouble from you. None at all. Otherwise I'll have to send you home. Please, _think_ before you act."

I nodded, but he had already stopped paying attention, he was concentrating so on the news from Bartleby. I went ahead of him out of the room. Bloch was waiting for me with a very righteous look on his face.

"Finally," he said, almost grinning. "I've finally got rid of you."

"Oh?" I said innocently.

"My lord!" said Bloch to the marquis. "Didn't you dismiss him? I must protest! This boy...."

"He's a stableboy," said the marquis, drawn at last from his thoughts. "I expect such from stableboys, but a head stableman should have _some_ degree of competence. You'd best come up to the palace."

Then Bloch knew it was over, and I realized what a stupid thing I had done. Bloch was going to be dismissed, and absolutely nothing was going to happen to me. He turned to look at me, and I looked away.

"Well, Albert," he said. "Albert what? What is the rest of your name?"

"Shultz, sir," I said quietly, after a moment's hesitation.

"Well, Albert _Shultz_ of Halzig," he hissed, "you'll be sorry."

"I am," I said as he turned away and followed the marquis.

* * *

I DID NOT see Philip for the rest of the day. He had been called up to the palace too. In the evening, though, I found him sitting in his room, feet up on a table, drinking apple brandy. When I came in he shook his head and frowned at me. Then he raised his glass.

"Here's to you, Albert," he said with less humor than usual. "You really have a talent for trouble, you know. But how can I scold you when you've got me a better job?"

"So they did dismiss him?"

"Two weeks notice," he said. "Surprised me they didn't pay him off and show him the door."

He frowned and shook his head, dropping forward. He took a drink and pointed a finger at me, looking unnaturally stern.

"You!" he said and slammed his drink down on the table, spilling some. I flinched and braced for the tongue lashing. "You...I...I don't know what to say. You are a smart boy, but...." He sat back. "He deserved it. He deserved it he deserved it he deserved it!" He threw back his head and pounded the arms of his chair in rhythm to the words. He stood up laughing. "I did all of the work for that man, you know. Now I am rewarded." He stepped forward and kissed me smack on the forehead.

"You're not mad at me?"

"Yes, I'm mad at you," he said. "Of course. People could have been hurt. It could have been a disaster, but Providence smiled and the right man got it."

I had not realized the depth of Philip's feelings on the matter. He shook his head and filled his glass again.

"Are you drunk?" I asked.

"A little," he said, nodding.

"You should be careful or you'll be dismissed too."

"Nope," he said. "I'm not that drunk. Just celebrating. You want some?"

"No," I said. " _I_ get into trouble."

Philip wasn't even listening. "He deserrrrrrved it!" he sang as he put the bottle away in the cupboard.

"He sure did," I said. Already I was feeling less guilty. It was nice to have done someone some good. Hans, too, actually. Unless.... "You're going to keep Hans on, aren't you?"

"Of course," he said. "He does his job. I might not have hired him, but the only one who would fire him is his own uncle."

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Chapter XIV - The Duke in the Nighttime

* * *

"BOY!"

It was a loud, slightly high pitched and tremulous voice. For a moment I thought it might be Tybalt's mother–the voice had her imperious quality–but I discovered that it was the duke, Sigmond, who stood in the stable aisle. He stood, or rather teetered, in the light of the lamp. He wore a red and black velvet cape, which was flung askew over one shoulder, revealing that he wore a nightshirt over his britches and boots, and his cap was slapped on sideways. He lifted his chin in a dignified manner and sliced his whip through the air. "Boy!" he said. "My horse!"

He had been drinking too much, it was obvious, if not from his manner, then from his smell. His dignity and blustering did not seem quite genuine either. He seemed unsteady and uncertain, as if he did not know what he was doing and was playing the role of master for all it was worth.

I sidled up to the edge of the stall I was in, but did not come out. He banged his crop against the wall and strode over to me.

"Did you hear me?" he said. "I said get my _horse_."

As he spoke he raised his whip up over his head and I saw that he was going to bring it down on Jupiter. I sprang for his arm and hauled him around and away. Jupiter suspected something was going on, and he lashed out with his hind feet. The hooves just flashed by the duke's nose. Sigmond staggered, sat in the dust and stared at me, his jaw hanging lax.

"You saved my life," he said. "That beast would have killed me. You saved my life."

"It's all right now, your grace," I said, helping him to his feet by pushing from behind as he wavered back. He watched Jupiter and adjusted his cape.

"I owe you a great debt," he said gravely.

"Yes, your grace," I said. I guided him gently toward the door in hopes that he would forget what he came for and go back to bed. It was no use. As we got to the door he stopped and straightened.

"Ah, my horse!" he said. "My lad, I need my horse at once."

I was not sure what to do. I was not going to let him near an animal, not after the way he flung that whip around, though he did seem quiet now. The quietness, however, did not last long. He noticed my hesitation.

"Get the beast at once, do you hear?" he said, giving me a shove. When I did not move any further he stepped up to me.

"What's the matter with you? My father told you not to, is that it?" He pulled me close. He was not threatening at the moment, he only wanted me close to lean on. He whispered a strong waft of fine whisky into my face and took my jaw in one hand. "It was my father, wasn't it?"

It would have been nice to have the authority of Prince Hugo behind me, but I thought it better to be vague.

"Those are my orders, sir," I said. "I don't know where they come from."

"He doesn't want me to do anything!" he hissed through gritted teeth, not to me or to anyone in particular. Then he turned to me. "Get my horse anyway. I'll see that you don't get into trouble."

I shook my head. He released my chin and with a quick flick of the wrist he smacked me hard across the mouth. It was so quick I did not even think of ducking or striking back. I put my hand to my smarting lip, and it came away wet. My lip was bleeding. The sting, however, gave way to a hot numbness.

"I'll get it myself," he said, staggering away.

"No, sir, wait," I said, following him. I wondered if I should risk leaving him unattended to get Philip. "What do you want him for?"

"None of your business, you little spy," he said and he swung his riding crop at me. This time I ducked and shoved him aside so I could run to get Philip. That only made him madder. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and began to shake me. Then he had both hands around my neck in a grip I could not pull loose from.

"Sigmond! What on earth?" Tybalt was there at my elbow. He took Sigmond's arm and pulled us apart. "Strangling the servants? I'll take care of this," he added to me.

"Let me be!" said Sigmond.

"Cousin, you should know better than to rouse the help. Albert, go back to bed." He turned and gestured me away. I backed off a few steps. "What are you doing?"

"I know you're hiding things from me," the duke said. "I'm going to see her for myself."

"Quiet, you fool."

"I won't be your pawn!" Sigmond raised his voice as Tybalt's got quieter.

"Of course not, you're Hugo's pawn," said Tybalt gently. "I'm on your side in this. Now come away."

"I'll see her."

"In the morning."

"Now! My neck is in this too."

"Yes, your neck is in it. Do you want to tell the world? Come away." Tybalt finally succeeded in moving Sigmond, and he gestured again for me to leave when he noticed I had not. He watched me go into my room.

Inside I pressed my ear to the door and listened to the vague sounds of voices as they drifted away. In a moment they came back. I heard them outside my door.

"Then I'm coming as well," Tybalt was saying. He knocked on my door. I opened it at once.

"Get my horse," said the duke.

"A horse and trap," corrected Tybalt. He bent down. "I'll see there's no trouble with the horse."

"I'll have to rouse Philip."

"If you must."

I had hopes that I could get one of the other boys to run and tell the marquis while I delayed the harnessing of the horse as long as possible. That plan fizzled, however, when Tybalt followed me to Philip's room.

He and Sigmond both watched until we had the trap in the stableyard, and Philip in the driver's seat. Tybalt was having none of that.

"Come down from there," said Tybalt. "I'm driving myself." He climbed in and urged the horse to a fast trot.

He would be too long gone to follow by the time I could get to the marquis. Could I follow myself? Did I even have the time to get Jupiter?

The trap passed me and I noticed the little plate at the back for the footman to stand on. I grabbed hold of the back and swung up to sit on it. Philip cocked his head in surprise and I gestured to him. I could not shout or Tybalt and the duke would hear me. I cupped my hands around my mouth.

"Tell the marquis," I whispered. Philip leaned forward quizzically. I pointed up at the palace as the trap wheeled out of the yard.

The night was dark, but my eyes soon got used to it. It was strange seeing the world backwards as I sat behind the carriage and tried to keep track of where I was going by watching where I had been. It was not all that easy. It was a while before I even realized that we were travelling down the park road, heading east into the mountains. It was chilly, and the little foot rest made my seat numb from both its hardness and the cold metal. It was not much of a perch, and I had to hang on.

After a while the road became hilly. We went up a sudden slope, sudden to me because I could not see it coming, and I slipped right off the seat. I held with my hands and swung around, my feet hitting the ground running. I followed the trap up the hill, then when it hesitated at the top I jumped back on. Downhill was much easier. There were, however, more inclines than declines, and I found myself running behind more and more. At least the trap was slow going uphill, and it was easy to keep up if I held on tight. It kept me warm, too. I was glad for the noise of the springs and the bumpiness of the road, for they could not hear my footsteps, nor feel my weight jumping on and off.

It was my luck that we were on an incline when they turned from the park road. I would never have seen the only landmark if my back had been turned to it, for it was obscured from the other side by bushes. It was the ruinous remains of an entrance gate. The one side was perfectly square and in good shape, but the other had a curious wasp-waisted look, since some of its middle had been knocked away. It seemed an unusual enough shape that I would be able to find it again easily.

I scrambled back on my seat as the trap turned onto the rough drive between the pillars. The drive was in terrible shape. The trap lurched and bumped so that I banged my head twice. I was afraid they had heard it, but they did not react. They were perhaps too put out by the bumps themselves to notice.

The trap then must have hit a large hole, for suddenly it lurched so hard that it shot me from my seat like a spring. I landed and skidded on the hard, uneven surface, clamping my jaw shut to stifle a cry. I looked up. The trap continued on. They had not noticed.

I rolled to my feet and limped after them. My knee was smarting more than ever. I reached down to rub it and found a hot welt growing on it. The cold night air was good for that at least, and for my lip, which had started to bleed anew. It did not hurt much though, only felt a little hot. I did not have to walk on my lip, though, and I rubbed my knee again.

The trap was out of sight now. I could hear it not far ahead, squeaking as it hit another bump. I hobbled after it, not trying to keep up. I was certain it was not going far. This looked like a drive to a house, and not a road.

Soon I saw lights blinking through the trees. The carriage came to a halt. I heard Tybalt say something, then he exclaimed in a loud, ringing voice, "Oh, cousin, really! You make all this fuss, and then you fall asleep."

The springs creaked some more, as he climbed into the back to wake Sigmond up. It was then I rounded the bend and could see the house, three floors high, with a steeply peaked roof and attic gables. Attached to it, looking strange and alien, was a modern wing, flat roofed and made of either stone, or brick faced with plaster. The trap was pulled up front and one man held the horse, while another stood in the doorway. Tybalt was shaking Sigmond.

"Wake up, cousin," he shouted directly in the duke's ear. Sigmond jumped. "Come on. We're here!"

"Where?" said Sigmond. Tybalt sat back on the side of the carriage and threw up his hands.

"Here! To see how my lady fares!" Tybalt was enjoying this.

"What lady?"

"What lady! Why, our dear Alice."

"Alice!" Suddenly Sigmond was awake. "Yes, Alice. Where is she?" He tumbled out of the trap, right over the top of Tybalt.

"Don't worry," said Tybalt. "She's not going anywhere." Sigmond disappeared into the house, escorted by the man in the doorway. Tybalt turned to the man holding the horse.

"Why is there no guard at the gate?"

"We're shorthanded tonight," said the man. "Karl is sick, but we can hear any approach from here. She'd be safe hidden away before anyone could get near the house."

Tybalt did not look happy. He gave an impatient sigh and tapped his foot.

"I know I said there should be six men in the house at all times, but it's more important that there be one out there."

"We're shorthanded," complained the man.

"If you don't want to part with anyone else," said Tybalt, "send cook."

"She won't," said the man. "I know she won't."

"Well, go out there yourself, then."

"It's cold out there."

"I'll send someone to relieve you," said Tybalt, and the man reluctantly turned to go. "Wait. Take care of the horse first. We may be here a while."

I did not like the idea of being there a while. The man was right. It was cold. I hugged myself as Tybalt went into the house and the man jumped up on the driver's seat and drove the trap around back.

There was nobody left out front. I took the opportunity to creep across the open yard to the side of the house. It was dark there. I pressed myself against the wall as I heard the door open again. I peeked around the corner and saw a man come out and stand by the door.

I tried to remember if Alice was the name Bartleby had mentioned when he told us about Mrs. MacGuffin. I was almost certain it was. Now _I_ had found her.

I moved out from the wall and walked toward the back, looking up at the windows. There were lights behind some of them, but no way to tell which had the lady behind it.

At the back of the house I paused and looked around the corner. The odd new wing stuck out at a right angle at the opposite end from me. Beyond it I could see the dark form of woods, a good place for the marquis to conceal himself and troops. Now that was a good idea. If I could not find out what room Mrs. MacGuffin was in, then at least I could bring back as good a report as possible of the layout.

It looked like there was a large ditch, or even a ravine, behind the house. It was hard to see for sure in the dark. I went cautiously to examine it. A ravine could be another good place of concealment. By the sound of a stream at the bottom, it was quite deep. I crept a little closer and very nearly tumbled in. The sides were steep and abrupt. I felt down the gravelly sides.

Sounds of voices roused me from my contemplation of the ditch. I turned. They were raised voices, coming faintly from within the house. I got up and moved closer. I was sure I recognized one of the voices. It had carrying quality, just as the night when they kidnapped her.

"...let me be! Please tell him to let me be!"

These were the only words I could make out. The voice was strong, though the words were pleading. The other voices were men's voices. First one that sounded like Tybalt's mingled with her voice, then raised above them both came an angry shout of Sigmond's. There may have been more voices, but I could not be sure. All were talking at once, and all were quarreling.

At first I could not tell where in the house they came from, but as I moved closer I realized the room was on the top floor of the new wing, where it met with the old. There was a large tree there which obscured the window from a distance.

The voices quieted as quickly as they came. I hugged myself and shivered. A breeze was picking up, and it cooled the already cold night. I did not know how long they would be in there. I wished I could go in the house. Then I remembered the stable. There must be a stable, or at least a shelter where I could go hug a nice warm cart horse. I looked in the direction the man had driven the horse and trap, and I made out the form of a low roof.

The stable was small and it had three horses in it. Just the warmth of their bodies made it warmer than outside, but it was still cold. I began to look around for an old horse rug or something to wrap myself in. There was nothing in the stable, but on the seat of the trap I found a blanket. I climbed up on the seat and wrapped it around me. I could wait until they came for the horse, then I would jump down onto my perch.

I was not very vigilant. Within minutes I had dozed off, and I would probably have slept until they caught me had I not had a dream which reminded me that the guard at the gate would see me sitting on the back of the trap. That brought me awake. What was I to do? It was much too far to walk back, especially when I was so tired and my knee still hurt so much. I tried to think where I could catch the trap after it passed the guard, but it was no good. I did not want to walk out even that far, and I was not at all sure I could catch the trap without being caught myself.

I thought I would have to conceal myself in the stable until day, then sneak out and hope to catch a ride from some passerby. That did not seem too promising, but it was the best I could do, unless...unless I could conceal myself in the trap itself. It was a small carriage, not much room for hiding. Sometimes, however, such carriages have a box under the passenger seat for storage. I got up and tugged at the leather cushion. It came away. The space under it was not big, but big enough if I was careful about my knee. I wrapped myself snugly in the blanket and climbed in. The hard part was pulling the cushion securely into place afterward. I did not want them discovering me just because the seat was loose. It was not exactly comfortable, but it was nice and warm. I fell asleep in relative security.

* * *

I DO NOT think I slept long. A lurch woke me up. The trap was moving a little back and forth. I heard a voice.

"Steady there, Dapple," said a man's voice. I was being hitched up. Soon the cart began to move forward and when it stopped I heard Tybalt's voice.

"We'll be moving her well after midnight," he was saying. "But I want you fellows to be ready early tomorrow. I've arranged a few diversions to make it look like we're moving her to and from other places. It isn't too obvious, so they should fall for it. I hope, Sigmond, that you will play your part properly."

Sigmond grumbled and the trap lurched as he climbed into it. From where I was the squeaking was very loud. I hoped I would not get a headache.

"Where is my blanket?" asked Sigmond.

"What blanket?" said Tybalt in irritation.

"I had a blanket on the way here. It's a cold night. I don't want to go without it."

"It's probably in the seat box."

"I didn't put it in the seat box. I left it on top of the seat," said Sigmond peevishly. "Right here." I heard a thump on the seat above me.

"You've forgotten," said Tybalt. "Look in the seat box. Perhaps Brinker put it there."

" _I_ didn't put it there," said Sigmond. I heard sounds of someone tugging at the cushion.

"Oh, wait," said Tybalt. "I know. Brinker was complaining about the cold. I bet he took it out front."

"Blast him," said Sigmond and a louder thump pushed the cushion back in place.

"I'll send for another, shall I?"

"Never mind," said Sigmond. "Let's go."

I lay back in relief and the trap bumped on.

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Chapter XV - Bloch's Revenge

* * *

PHILIP LOOKED EXTREMELY tired, and rather surprised, when I popped out of the seat.

"Have a merry little trip?" he asked.

"Did you tell the marquis?"

"Is that what you were trying to tell me?" he said, "because if you were, I didn't. I went back to bed and wondered about you. I wouldn't have known what to tell him anyway. That Albert's gone crazy?"

"Well, never mind," I said. "I can tell him myself, now. Or perhaps in the morning."

"Yeah, I think morning would be better," he said. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Too late for me," I said, yawning. "Oh, Philip?"

"Yes."

"You remember when you and Hans were talking about that big fight between Prince Hugo and Sigmond? You remember the English maid?"

"I do as a matter of fact. Amazing for this time of the morning."

"Do you remember the name of her lady?"

"Sorry, that I don't remember."

"Could it have been Alice MacGuffin?"

"Come to think of it," said Philip in surprise. "That sounds familiar. I'm too tired to figure out how you do it, Albert, but that's right. I think. Good night."

The sky was already brightening as I left Philip, but I was so tired that I do not even remember getting into bed a moment later.

* * *

I SLEPT LATE again, and this time not by a little. The sun was past my window. It was at least noon, if not later. My first thought was that I was late, and I had to tell the marquis. I could not remember right off just what it was I had to tell him, but I leapt up and headed for the door. My knee ached a bit when I woke, but I had not noticed. Now suddenly it gave out from under me in pain. I was certainly not doing anything on that leg without help. The first thing to do was hobble to the tack room for a bandage. I was now alert enough to remember what had happened the night before. It was important, but I had plenty of time.

Bloch was there, coming out of the tack room as I came in, and I stopped and braced myself for a bawling out for being late again. He did not even acknowledge me. He smiled a little, though, and went on his way. The way he smiled made me take a careful look around the tack room for booby traps.

I did not find any, but I did find a bandage, and with it firmly wrapped around my knee I found I could walk without trouble. It is amazing what a little piece of cloth and a good knot can do.

I headed out of the stable as quickly as I could, not thinking about anything but my message for the marquis. Hans met me the instant I stepped out.

"Albert, at last!" he said, thrusting the reins of two horses into my hands. "These need walking out, and so do those." He jerked his head toward two sweating mounts, each held by an impatient looking gentleman. He ran to them before I could say anything. I could see I picked the wrong day to oversleep. The yard was very busy, and it was the worst time of day, early afternoon when everyone was coming or going.

I supposed my news could wait a little longer, and I helped Hans out. And then I helped out some more. It seemed to take forever. The stable was in chaos. Bloch was taking no interest in it at all, and Philip more than had his hands full with his usual day duties. It seemed there was always just one more thing to do. It was at least three hours before I could slip off.

* * *

"HE ISN'T IN," said the marquis' secretary, a small old man in ancient royal livery. "He only just went out."

"Where did he go?" I asked.

"He's out driving with Her Majesty."

"Well, when will he be back? Can you get a message to him? It's very urgent."

"You're Albert, aren't you?" The man looked at me more closely.

"Yes, that's me."

"The marquis very much wants to see you too. Apparently you were hard to find earlier."

"We've been very busy down at the stable. Look can you...?"

"What I would suggest is that you go back to the stable and stay put. As a matter of fact, that was the message he left for you. He said it was an order. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but when will he be back?"

"It's hard to say. A few hours at least. Now you get along to the stable and stay there. He seemed awfully strong on that point. He didn't seem to think you would."

"I will," I said. "I don't have much choice, do I?"

* * *

I WAS NOT paying attention when I returned to the stable. I was trying to think of a way to get the message to the marquis more quickly. For all I knew, he had already fallen for Tybalt's diversions and was prepared to do the wrong thing that night.

"A...uh...Albert!"

When I heard that voice I forgot all about the marquis. I wheeled around to see Celeste seated on a prancing horse. She was doing her best to shoo Charles away from holding the animal.

"No, no," she said. "Not you. Um...I used to know that boy. He's...worked for me before."

She trotted across the yard. I looked furtively around. There were too many people in the yard, not listening perhaps, but within overhearing distance.

"Hello, Fraulein," I said cautiously. She bent forward.

"I've been riding around this stable for a half hour, just hoping you'd show up," she whispered. "When we got that letter I just knew...."

"What letter?" I asked, but a carriage came in and Roderick brought it right beside us to unhitch the horses.

"Well, Albert," she said, glancing at Roderick and taking a superior tone as she did when she talked to servants. "You should hear the excitement that's hit our stables since you left us."

"What is it, Fraulein?"

"A horse has been stolen," she said.

"Stolen?"

"That's what my mother _says_." She emphasized the words to make it obvious they had a deeper meaning. I feared it was obvious to anyone who overheard. "They've arrested the stableman."

"Oh, no!" I said. "Not Andre!"

"Yes, Andre," she said. "But not for _horse_ stealing. I'm afraid you haven't heard the worst. My cousin, _Anna_ , has disappeared. Mamma fears she has been kidnapped, or worse. We would not have realized, because Anna was _away travelling_ , but we got a letter from a man named Wilhelm Bloch. He's found her horse here, in the possession of a suspicious _stableboy_. When I heard that I just knew...." She whispered the last.

"Thanks, Celeste," I whispered back.

"You're welcome," she replied. "Goodbye, _Albert_. I must join Mamma in the park now, or she'll wonder if I've been taken too."

I put my hand over my mouth as she left and tried to think. This was a pretty predicament. The instant Aunt Elfie saw me the game would be up. That would be a quick end to everything.

I turned to dodge into the stable, but Tybalt was standing in the stable door, grinning from ear to ear.

"Quite the charmer, our Albert," he said. "Having a beautiful young lady warn him off." He heaved a theatrical sigh and stepped forward, smiling a knowing smile. I hoped he had not heard the whole conversation, but somehow I was sure he had. "Yes, she _is_ rather attractive. Tell me, is she rich? If she's rich I might go for her myself."

I was not sure what to say, so I just rolled my eyes in my best imitation of Philip and started to walk away. Tybalt started to laugh.

"To think, the Pipsqueak a horse thief!" he said. I paused. At least he had got it wrong. "I knew you were just like me," he said, shaking a finger at me. He shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Where's your righteous indignation now, eh? Quite a crime, stealing a horse, and from a poor little girl. By the way, what happened to the girl? Dead in a ditch with her head bashed in? Or did the wicked stableman carry her off into white slavery?"

"Andre is not wicked."

"Not wicked? If he carries off young women, I can't see as he's any better than I am. I'm certainly wicked. As wicked as they come. So tell me, what happened to the young lady? I won't tell anyone." As he looked at me and waited for an answer his smile slowly faded.

"Unless...," he said, rubbing his chin and looking me over more closely. The grin suddenly came back twice as big. "Unless _you_ are the young lady yourself."

"What?" I said as indignantly as I could. "I'm not a girl!"

"It's easy enough to check, isn't it?" He reached for me. I jumped away and turned and ran. "Don't worry, _Albert_. I won't tell," he called, laughing.

* * *

I RAN. I ran all the way to the other side of the manure pile, where I was alone. I could not go back yet. I needed more time. I was supposed to be safe for three months. But she had put Andre in jail! I put my hands on my head, which had begun to ache, and paced back and forth.

The thing to do for now was to dodge Aunt Elfie. That would give me time, but it would not be easy. She and Bloch would be spreading the word about Albert the horse thief. I was sure she had already told the marquis. That was why he wanted to see me. Oh, the marquis! I had to tell him about Mrs. MacGuffin.

I shook my throbbing head and ran back to the stable. Get Jupiter. That was the most important thing now. That was all I could think of.

When I got to Jupiter's stall, I found Hans. He was holding a tin of boot black, which he was dabbing over the white markings on Jupiter's face.

"What are you doing?" I said.

"What does it look like?" he answered in irritation.

"That won't do any good," I said. "Everybody knows this horse it Jupiter, and that he has–or had–a white star."

"Not if he's in the shed out back of my house they won't," he said. "He'll be just another dark color horse. Especially if you rub a little mud on his coat and tangle burrs in his mane."

"Thanks, Hans, but there's no need to get you and your family in trouble."

"Will you just get your saddle and go?" said Hans in exasperation. "I just now heard Uncle Wil telling Philip. They'll be down here any minute."

As I saddled Jupiter, I turned to him. "I didn't steal him," I said.

"I don't care what you did," he replied. He snatched away my bridle and started putting it on Jupiter himself. He usually had trouble with that, but urgency made him quick and efficient.

"Look," I said. "I have some things to do. And I don't know just what I'll do after that, so I may not come to your house after all. Or I may get caught. In case I don't see you, goodbye."

"You better _go_ , you idiot," he said, looking down the row of stalls. "'Bye."

* * *

I RODE FAR out into the park, where the woods were thick and I could hide while I thought. I thought for a long time, or perhaps I should say I worried for a long time. It seemed as if there were problems to whatever I chose to do. I did not want to do anything, actually. I liked things as they were. I liked being a stableboy. Now, that was the last thing I could be. Now that Aunt Elfie had come, I had to run away again, or go home. I could not just stay.

I put my chin on my hand and stared at Jupiter. He was munching on a little patch of grass and twitching his ears, totally unconcerned. Or perhaps he was. The way his ears moved I could tell he was alert, and whenever I made the slightest movement, even a sigh, he tilted his head, making sure of me, though he never paused in grazing. He was such a beautiful horse, well formed and with a good character. He was attached to me, he knew my moods, and I had been neglecting him. I got up and put my arms around his neck and laid my head against his shoulder. I listened to the vibrations of his eating as they came up his neck. Chomp! Chomp! Chomp!

I could, of course, always run away for a while longer. It might be fun dodging them until my money ran out, but there were more important things to think of. There was Andre. I had to return to get him out of trouble. I could not see as I had any choice about that. Then there was the business of the kidnapping. I had to see it through somehow. I did not want to go home with my adventure unfinished. I would probably never get another chance. I _had_ to, and I had to now. That meant I would have to face the marquis, but I had a plan for that.

* * *

I BURST OUT of the bushes on Jupiter. Philip had told me where the queen usually liked to take her drives, and there was the queen's landau just ahead. It pulled to a halt. I had startled them. The marquis must have thought I was an assassin, for he stood up, producing a pistol. He saw it was me, however, and with a few words to the queen, he put the gun away and climbed out of the carriage.

I bowed toward the carriage and then turned to him. "I found...!" I began.

"Albert," the marquis interrupted in a quiet, stern voice. "I've heard all about you and...." He glanced at Jupiter. "It was foolish of you to try and disguise him."

"I didn't do that," I said. "Ha...A _friend_ did. Look, it really isn't as bad as you think."

"Albert, I know you really love that animal, and I know you always have good intentions, but this is too serious. A young lady may have come to harm over this."

"No...."

"This has to stop. I promise I'll do what I can for you, but you must go back to the stable right now. I'll be there shortly."

"I will," I said. "But first...."

"Now. You have to face up to this."

"But...."

" _Now_ , Albert."

"I've found Mrs. MacGuffin," I said. "I know where she is."

That took him aback. His mouth was still open to tell me to go back, but I could see his mind working. His jaw worked back and forth and he absently stroked Jupiter's neck.

"Where is she?" he said at last.

"East," I said, tossing my head in that direction. "It's on the park road, only pretty far out. Up in the hills."

"My information says south," he said. "At one of Sigmond's estates."

"Tybalt wants you to think that," I said, shaking my head. "I heard him say so. But at this place I actually heard her voice. It's a great big old wooden house, with a new stone wing. She's on the top floor in the back, where the two parts meet."

"How far is this place?"

"Oh, a couple hours' ride. The only thing you can see from the road is the old gate post. It's on the right side of the road, and the left post is broken away in the middle so it looks like an hourglass. There's woods all around, but particularly on the east, and there's a ravine quite close in back, to the south. Oh, and there's six men in the house, and they've posted a watchman by the gate post."

"That's means I should get together a troop. But quietly, I don't want to alarm Hugo."

"You'll have to hurry. They're going to move her _tonight_ ," I said. "After midnight."

"Not much time," he said, rubbing his chin. "Good work. We'll have to hurry back. Follow the carriage, Albert. Albert!"

"I'll meet you there!" I called over my shoulder as I spurred Jupiter away.

"Albert! Come back!"

He could not follow cross country in a carriage, and certainly not with the queen.

* * *

AUTUMN IS A humid time in Lifbau. We get rain and mist, and on this evening, heavy fog. Things look very strange in that grey shroud. Familiar things are unrecognizable, and unfamiliar things are downright frightening, especially at a full gallop.

I was halfway to Hugo's lodge when the fog hit. It descended suddenly, as if some napping god had kicked his blanket off and it fell to earth with a thud. Within minutes I could not see beyond Jupiter's nose. Jupiter, however, is the bravest animal on God's green earth, and he never hesitated to plunge into the unknown grey beyond each hill and fence. His trust in me was great, but unwarranted. I could not see any better than he could. Somehow we managed to reach the road without a major mishap.

The road seemed hardly less tricky than the fields. As we got higher into the mountains it would suddenly rise up or fall away. I rode for a long time, until I was sure I had gone too far or taken the wrong road. Then I saw the gate post. It loomed up suddenly, an isolated black shape against the grey.

The sentinel would hear me, even if I could not see him. I trotted by the gate without hesitating, as if going somewhere further along. At a good distance I halted and dismounted. I wanted to sneak up from the woods.

I led Jupiter as close as I dared to the house and tied him to a tree. I hoped I could find him again. It was getting dark, and the grey atmosphere was turning to charcoal. In the distance I could see some blurred squares of light. I crept toward them and soon the dark form of the house came into view.

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Chapter XVI - The Lady

* * *

I WAS APPROACHING the house from the other side this time. The territory was unfamiliar. Suddenly the wall of the new wing loomed up out of the fog. I slammed face first into it. I had not hit hard, but I stayed up against the wall in case anyone had heard. I listened. I heard nothing but the rustle of wind in the trees. Then I began to make out the sound of voices inside.

I moved toward them and a faint glow became visible. At first I thought it might be a lantern, but then when it did not move I realized it was a window. As I got closer the blur resolved itself into a square, and then, when I came up close, I could see in.

Tybalt sat with his back to the window, almost exactly as he had in the inn that first night. He leaned back, one foot on the table. The only difference was that he did not hold the wrist of a beguiled young girl. It was a woman whose wrist he held, a middle aged woman, and not at all a pleased one. She jerked her arm away and thrust a bowl in his face.

"Thank you, Cook," said Tybalt. "This is the most unappetizing slop I've ever laid eyes on."

"What do you expect?" she snapped back. "This is the last night, and I ain't been paid yet."

"You will be, you will be."

"When?"

"Tonight, if Mother can squeeze it out of Hugo for me."

"Bah!" said the cook, and she left.

There were three other men in the room. They were seated around the table, each with a bowl. One of the men looked dismally into his own.

"Maybe we oughta take up a collection," he said. "If cook doesn't get paid, I don't think I can take it."

"What _about_ that money, Stenbau?" said another.

"Hugo is just an old penny pincher," said Tybalt. "For all his money, he thinks this matter has cost him too much, but he'll come around. He hasn't much choice, and I've set Mother on him."

"But then she'll keep it," protested the first man.

"Hugo knows better than to give...," began Tybalt.

Outside, from the direction of the road, I heard a shrill whistle. Immediately there was a loud knocking at the front door. The men in the room jumped to their feet.

It must have been the signal from the gatepost lookout. I knew the marquis would hurry, but I did not think even he could be that quick. Then two more whistles sounded and another knock at the door, this time accompanied by a voice.

"Karl says it's all right."

"Hugo," said Tybalt. "I thought he might come. We'll get our money yet, boys. And Cook. Just leave it to me."

By now I could hear the carriage approach. This was a better carriage, there was no squeak of springs, and the wheels ground smoothly on the gravel. I moved around to the front and closer to the door. The lantern of the guard made a milky circle of light. I realized that they could not see out of it, and I moved closer. I could make out the blurry shapes of the carriage and the horses. The guard went to get the door and I was sure that the man who got out was Hugo, but I could not tell who the second man was. Tybalt came from the house. I recognized him by his movement.

"Uncle, what are you doing here?" he said.

"We've come to see that all goes well," said Hugo.

"Is that Sigmond?" Tybalt said, slightly alarmed.

"Yes, it is," said Hugo.

"You fool! Sigmond! You were supposed to be leading them astray."

"I put someone else on that," said Hugo.

"Hah!" said Tybalt. "What if you were followed?"

"We were not."

"Well, the fog may be a saving grace," said Tybalt reluctantly. He paused. "You two seem to be getting on awfully well."

"We are," said Sigmond in a husky voice.

"Come in then," said Tybalt, impatiently. When they were in the house he turned to the door guard. "Get a horse and ride up and down the road. I want to be _sure_ they weren't followed. And tell Karl to keep his eyes open, and his ears." The man dashed for the stable, but Tybalt still did not go into the house. He pointed to the coachman.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Max," said the man. "I always drive for his Highness."

"Max Hellman? Ah, yes. All right then. See about your business."

Tybalt was being cautious. I would have to be careful. I hoped the marquis would be careful as well. I slipped back around the corner as the coachman took a lantern to guide his way past me.

Back at the window I saw Hugo and Sigmond were now in that room. Tybalt entered, and with a quick gesture, dismissed his men. Sigmond sat on the couch and brooded at the ceiling, looking in the general direction of the lady's room. Hugo turned quickly to Tybalt as soon as the guards left.

"How will the fog affect your trip?" he asked. "Can you get through the mountains in it?"

"The fog? No, I can handle the fog," said Tybalt. "It's another problem that might stall us tonight. The same old problem, as a matter of fact."

"I've paid you too much already," snapped Hugo.

"You've paid me, true," said Tybalt, "but you haven't paid the people in this house anything. They aren't feeling very cooperative. They don't think you'll pay them at all."

"Pay then from what I've given you. You employed them."

"No, Uncle. _You_ employed them. And I've had expenses. _I_ need more money. We want it now, or the lady goes nowhere."

"Perhaps that's a good idea," said Hugo, taking Tybalt's arm and drawing him away from Sigmond. Sigmond ignored them and continued to scowl upward. They came to the window, so I pulled back. "I've almost got Sigmond to our way of thinking. Give me a little more time and we'll have a quick end to this problem."

"It'll cost you just the same," said Tybalt with a shrug. "We've already made arrangements to get her out of the country, and we need all the money promised us. Dead or alive, the lady will cost you."

"You think I carry that sort of money on my person?"

"I know you're carrying something." Tybalt leaned his elbow casually on the sill. "That's why you're here. Mother has been worrying you all day about paying me. I set her to it."

"I know you did."

"You must have brought something. Look, I'm willing to wait a little longer, but the others...."

I left the window. It sounded as if this discussion might delay them a while. I was a little worried, though, that Hugo said he had got Sigmond on their side. Did that mean they would kill her? Hugo seemed to prefer it as a quicker and simpler solution. The fact that Tybalt wanted more money, however, might save her life until the marquis got there.

I thought it was time to see the woman myself. I moved cautiously through the fog. Now it was dark and I could see nothing at all. Every step seemed into a deep chasm. I kept my fingertips on the wall to guide me. It took a long time, but eventually I had worked my way around to the corner where the two wings met. I looked up and saw the glow of a window. The light was enough to show the form of the tree which grew there.

It was a big old tree, with rough bark and many branches. I felt it over, looking for a branch low enough to climb on. I had to stand on my toes to find the lowest one. I could not get a grip on it from the ground. I would have to shinny up the trunk, and that was not easy, not with boots on. I had to take them off.

The grass was cold and wet on my feet. I stood on one foot then the other while I reached for a grip on the bark with my hands. It was rough bark, good for climbing, but the edges were moist with mold. My fingers held well enough, dug deep in the crevices, but my feet slipped at first, skinned and stinging in the late night air.

I made it to the branch and swung up on it. I paused a moment to tuck my toes into the crook of my knee to warm them up. If the tree were not so wet I would be fine.

Another branch loomed over head, standing out against the lights above as if just hanging there, attached to nothing. I felt up the trunk and found a crook of that branch.

I pulled myself up, branch by branch. It was easy, once I was high enough. There were many branches, and the light made my progress easier as I got closer to it.

One branch slanted up, over the window I was aiming for. I sidled along it, holding onto another branch to steady myself. There was a woman's form behind the window. She was pacing. I moved closer and squinted. It looked like her. I ran my hand along the branch, looking for a twig to break off and throw at the window.

I found an acorn. I tossed it. It hit, but there was no reaction from within the room. I wiggled my toes for warmth and reached into my pocket for a coin, a horseshoe nail, anything. Then at last the window opened.

"Mrs. MacGuffin?" I asked.

"Who's there?" she replied apprehensively. It was her.

"A friend," I said. "Help is on the way.

I reached for the window sash and swung myself into her room. It was a graceful move, except that my feet were so wet and numb that I slipped right past the sill and landed on my seat in the room.

The woman stepped back, looking alarmed, but then she recognized me, and she stepped forward again to help me up.

"Mrs. MacGuffin?" I asked again.

"No, that is my professional name," she said. "I am Mrs.... _Duchess_ von Kirsau," she said. She was pale, but her fear seemed mixed with anger. Severe anger, I thought, as she spoke again, hitting each word with intensity. "I am married to him."

"Duke Sigmond?" I said. Of course, that made sense of it. That was why Sigmond had been unwilling to have her killed. That was why Tybalt had burned down the church–he was after the church records, the record of the marriage. "Then you don't have anything to do with the death of Bishop Rank?"

"The Bishop was our friend. His friend," she said. "He married us."

"Oh!" I said.

"I never wanted to keep it a secret. I told him we should be open, but he was afraid of his father, the coward."

"And that's what you had to tell the queen, that Sigmond was married to you?"

"Yes, tell the queen," she whispered, leaning close, even though her powerful whisper was easy to hear. "Tell her that he is _my_ husband. Go now. Tell everyone."

"No fear, madame," I said. "Help is on the way. You can tell everyone yourself."

"It doesn't matter. I don't care. They can kill me, but he won't marry her. Not if you tell her. Tell everyone. Be sure they all know. Disgrace him." She did seem to care, in a strange, stubborn way. It was almost as if she wanted to stay and be murdered, as if that would somehow spite them more. But perhaps that was because she had given up hope.

"The Marquis von Furlenhaur knows you are here," I told her, "and he knows about how many men they have and where their sentry is. He won't fail! You can escape."

"They will kill me before he gets here. Hugo always gets his way."

That's what I was worried about, but I did not want to say so. Still, I was not quite sure what to do about it. I looked around. The door would be locked, and maybe even guarded. But if it was guarded, wouldn't the guard have heard us before now? I went and tried the lock. It was locked.

"That's no use," said the lady.

"You'll have to climb out the window," I said.

She looked up at me and tilted her head, a bit of cunning awakening in her eyes. She went to the window and looked out.

"If I were a boy like you," she said. "I might be able to, but...."

"I'm not a boy," I said.

"No," she said, turning to smile at me. "No, you are the only one who has helped me. That makes a man out of you."

All right. It was time to shock her into reality.

"I'm a girl," I said. "I'm just dressed like a boy."

"Ah!" She was not shocked. The cunning in her eyes overcame the resignation. "Then I don't need to be a man, I just need the clothes of a man. Then I could climb down and run through the woods like a deer!"

"Yes," I said. "Only we don't have any men's clothes, so you are just going to have to do it as you are."

"In these skirts?" she said. "I'd break my neck."

I looked down at her skirts. If it had been me, I'd have tried climbing down, petticoats and all, but I saw her point. I did not know how agile she was, and she probably was not as practiced as I was at climbing trees.

"Well, then, where can I get you some trousers?"

"That is simple," she said. "This is Hugo's hunting lodge. Several gentlemen keep clothing here." She gestured toward the wall, at the room next door. "Prince Hugo and my husband both have rooms here."

I leaned out the window to look. I could not see much through the fog, but I did not think the branches reached to the windows next door.

"I don't think I can get to those rooms," I said. She leaned out the window and looked. Then she pointed down toward the older part of the building. I squinted through the fog but I could not see beyond the nearer branches of the tree.

"Down there," she said. "The game keeper has rooms down there. And that young villain sleeps there too. Yes, his clothing should fit me best, you must get some of Tybalt's clothes."

I thought that Tybalt's clothes would probably be too narrow in the hips for her, but I did not say so. Some loose, sturdy gamekeeper's trousers though...they would do nicely.

"I'll see what I can do," I said. "If the windows are locked, I'll look in the stables."

She turned suddenly, as if she had heard something. "Go! They're coming!"

"Don't worry," I whispered as I climbed back out the window. It would be harder getting out than going in. I would have to jump. I saw what she meant about not being able to do it in a skirt. To do it in trousers was bad enough. I could hear them coming, though, so I jumped and caught the branch. I struggled onto it and slid back down to the trunk. I heard voices in her room, and in a moment Hugo leaned out the window.

"I can't see anything," he said. "She was talking to herself again."

"Stay away from me, you traitor!" hissed the woman.

Hugo closed the window and I slowly climbed back down. I dropped to the ground and rubbed my numb feet. It was hard to get my boots back on because my feet were so wet. I wrestled for a while, finally got them on, and stood up. I listened. They were arguing again upstairs. The voices ended with the sound of a door shutting. I heard her voice as the door closed, so they had not killed her yet. Now all was silent.

The fog and darkness were still too dense to see much. I put my hand on the wall and followed it to the place she had pointed out. None of the windows had a light behind them. Still, someone might be sleeping in one of the rooms. There was even a chance that Tybalt would be napping in preparation for the trip through the mountains.

Well, I was not going to get anywhere just standing and dithering. I carefully tried the first window. It would not budge. The next would not either. They may have been locked, but I think they were stuck as well. I moved to the third window, and found that it wiggled a little. I fiddled with it for a few minutes, and made no progress at all.

Hugo's words kept going through my mind. _A quick end to this._ We did not have time. Maybe I should try the kitchen.

One look through the kitchen window showed me the cook and one man were in there guarding it. I should have known that Tybalt would either lock the door, or have it guarded. I put my hand on the door, just to check. It was locked. So it did not even matter if I could somehow distract the people inside. I could not get in.

She would just have to climb down, skirts and all. If she slipped, she would break an arm or leg, and then we would be in big trouble, especially if she screamed. Maybe the marquis would come. I listened for the sound of hoofbeats. None.

Then I noticed the little window. It was beside the kitchen, high in the wall, too small for a man to get through. Maybe it would not be locked. There was a trellis that went up and around it; a rose trellis. I wished it had been a nice vine, or a rain barrel, but the roses were not thick, and my climb was only a foot or two. All I really needed was a boost.

I jumped up on the trellis, and pulled at the window. It opened easily. The opening was narrow, but I had more trouble unsnagging my clothes from the rose bush than getting through it. The room inside was small, but just a little light was coming in under the door. I was on top of a cabinet. As I climbed down, I noticed a silver soup tureen, and several platters. I was in the butler's pantry. That meant the only door would lead to the kitchen. Well, there was always a chance that the cook would leave.

I put my ear against the door. I heard their voices, and people walking around. Then I thought I heard the door, and the voices stopped. I decided to wait just a bit to see if I heard anything more. I was beginning to think the marquis would get here long before I could do anything. It would be hard to find this place in the fog, however, and the marquis had to do it without alerting them. And if he did alert them, who could say what they might do to the woman before he got here? Yes, I did have to get her out of that room if I could.

Suddenly I realized that the butler would have keys to everything. He always did. Where would the keys be? Either on the butler's person, or in his pantry somewhere. I looked around, and I did not see any obvious place. Our butler kept them on the wall, behind the door. I looked at the space behind the door. There were a couple of coats and aprons hanging there, but through the darkness, I thought I could see something square behind them. I moved quietly closer, and pushed one of the coats aside. Something jingled. It was the key board.

I removed the coats and looked. It was a small peg board with several keys hanging on it. The only problem was that the pegs were not labelled in any way that would help me. I did not know what they called the room she was locked in. It certainly was not the master bedroom, so I could eliminate the peg marked "master." It was probably one that belonged on one of the empty pegs. Tybalt would keep the key on him.

I sighed and squatted down to look under the door. They _seemed_ to be gone. I listened for a bit to be sure. I also kept thinking about those keys. If I had thought there was a chance the right key was there, I would have taken them all. It would be useful to have a huge ring of keys, like my father's butler. Not only could I open any door in the house, but I could knock someone over the head with it if I got desperate. It would be best, though, to have just one key that fit everything, like Aunt Elfie's butler....

A master key!

I jumped up and scrambled for the board. Master. It might mean the "master" bedroom, but I did not think so. It was a master key. Now we would not have to climb out the window.

As a matter of fact, we would not even have to escape. A plan popped into my head. We would rip a bit of fabric out of her skirts and leave it snagged on a branch. We might even tie a sheet to the branch, as if we had used it for a rope, and we would leave the window open. It would look like she escaped out the window. Then we would sneak out of the room, locking the door behind us, and hide in another room, under the bed, until the marquis came. It was perfect! And it was much less risky than most of my plans.

Still, if we were going to sneak around, I needed to get a better idea of the layout of the house. That is what I told myself, anyway. What I really wanted was to avoid climbing up that tree again. Not only was my knee throbbing, but my feet still stung where the bark had skinned them.

I slipped out of the pantry. The kitchen was empty, but I froze when I saw that there was a light in a room opposite. It was probably the cook's sitting room. I could not see anyone in there, so whoever it was could not see me. I crept quietly to the door, and slipped out into the hall. I stuck my master key into the kitchen door, and found I could lock it. I almost kept it locked, so whoever was in there could not follow me, but I realized that was a mistake. I did not want to arouse their suspicions. It was an idea to keep for later, though. If we had to run, I could lock doors between us and our pursuers.

There was no one watching the back stairs. They creaked, though. I stopped after two steps and listened to see if anyone was coming. I heard nothing, so I went the rest of the way up, treading only on the farthest edge of each step, where it was against the wall. Usually that is the quietest part of a squeaky step. It didn't help much with these. Still, nobody was waiting for me at the top, and I did not hear anyone behind me.

I opened the door at the third floor landing just a tiny bit. The hall was dark, but I could see well enough to tell there was no one in it. I stepped out quietly, and I was happy to find that the floor did not creak badly here. I kept close to the wall and moved along as quickly as I could. I was in the old part of the building, and the lady's room was around the corner, in the new part. My only problem was that I had to cross the landing of the main stairs. There might be a guard on it, although he would be expecting an attack from below, not above. I crouched as I approached and looked down the stairs. There was, indeed, a man sitting on the middle step. He was looking down, but one creak of one board, and he would look up. I got down on hands and knees, and my knee gave me a painful twinge. I sat instead. I slowly scooted across the floor, sticking to the shadows as much as possible. I tested each board with my hands, and I did not make any creaks that were louder than the settling of the house. Once past the stairs, I peeked around the corner and saw no one in the hall. I was right, they were expecting the enemy only from below. I had the feeling Tybalt would not approve, but he could not be everywhere.

I got up and went as quickly as possible to the door. I do not know why I reached out to try the knob before I pulled the key from my pocket. I suppose it was habit. I felt foolish when I discovered it was locked, as I already knew. I reached into my pocket and a hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.

"Why, Pipsqueak, you _do_ get around."

I looked up to see that Tybalt could indeed be everywhere.

* * *

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### Chapter XVII - An Escape

* * *

HE HAD NOT seen the key yet. It was in my hand, but still in my pocket. If I could only drop it and kick it under the door unnoticed...but it would clatter. I had to distract him.

I hauled back, as if trying to get away from him, and I dropped the key. It made noise, but I was scuffling and banging myself against the door. Tybalt stood, making no effort whatsoever, other than holding my arm.

"Really, Pipsqueak, you won't get away," he said with a laugh. I just jerked harder, which nearly pulled my arm out of my socket, but it did not loosen his grip. The point of the jerk, however, was to change my position, so I could see where the key fell. It was right next to the door. I pretended to give up and fall against the door, dragging my foot sideways, and incidentally knocking the key under the door and out of sight.

"Giving up already?" Tybalt still seemed slightly amused, but there was a serious edge to his voice. He pulled me away from the door and looked at me with a frown. "Now, how did you get here?"

"I...." I paused to swallow nervously. Then I looked down as if I were giving up. "I came in Hugo's carriage."

"Funny, he didn't mention bringing you." He turned and pulled me around toward the stairs

"In the box seat," I said quickly, as he twisted my arm behind my back. "I hid in the box seat when I heard he was going somewhere." Tybalt hesitated as he thought about this. I hoped Hugo's coach had a box seat.

"Then you didn't know where you were going."

"I guessed." That sounded too much like an explanation. I thought I had better make it sound like a brag. "And I was right, too."

"And no one knows you're here."

"No," I said, after a falsely reluctant hesitation.

"Well, you did guess right." He shook his head. He looked amused again, although he did not seem quite able to make up his mind what mood he should be in. "Oh, Albert. Or...what _is_ your name anyway? _A_ something. Anna, isn't that what the girl said?"

"Yes, Anna."

"Anna, Anna. It's a pity you're not on our side. You'd have much more fun."

"As much fun as Mrs. MacGuffin? Or should I say Duchess?"

"So you know about that."

"She told me she was Duchess von Kirsau."

"She always went by her professional name, MacGuffin," said Tybalt. "They had to keep the marriage a secret from Hugo. That's the cause of all the trouble. You see, Hugo found out."

"After he'd already started arrangements for the royal wedding."

"That's right."

"And you're the one who told him."

"Somebody had to." Tybalt chuckled. "It certainly put a crimp in the old boy's plans."

"What are you going to do with me?"

"That depends on what is convenient. If you're very lucky, I might take you out of the country with me."

"What if I'm not lucky?"

"That's too bad for you."

He pushed me toward the stairs. As we went down the man guarding them leaped to his feet.

"He didn't get past _me_ ," he said.

"Then get up to the top of the stairs, idiot!" said Tybalt.

As we reached the foyer, the door to one of the sitting rooms slid open. I found myself face to face with Hugo.

"Caught this urchin snooping around," said Tybalt. "He came in _your_ carriage, Uncle. You should have been more careful."

"What does he know?" said Hugo.

"All he needs to."

"He can't be allowed to say anything!"

"He won't be. The question is, where shall we put him."

"Lock him in with that woman."

"No, no. The two of them together will be much too dangerous. Do you have a lockable trunk or wardrobe about the place?"

Sigmond appeared in the doorway behind Hugo. He was looking rather sullen and angry, but he fished in his pocket and produced a key.

"Here," he said. "My dressing room will do."

Back up the stairs we went, past the man at the top, and around the corner to the room where the lady was kept. I hoped she had seen the key. Her door was still closed. Tybalt paused to check the knob, and found it still locked. Then he pushed me along further to a room a couple of doors down.

I barely got a glimpse of the room before Tybalt shoved me into the dressing room and shut the door, locking it.

"I'll be back soon," he said. "When we've made a decision about what to do with you."

I tried the doorknob, just in case. It was locked. I looked through the keyhole, and did not see much of anything. I sat on the floor and felt around. The dressing room was simply a very large closet with some shelving and a chair and dresser. There was nothing much in it. A little clothing, but not so much as a hairbrush in the dresser. Sigmond must not use the place often, I thought. I did find that the door had a large crack under it, almost an inch.

I lay down and peeked under. I could see the base of the door of the room, because dim light came under it from the hall. That light was enough to see a good bit of the floor and rug, and one post of the bed. The rest was out of my view, or too dark to see. I moved the chair to the center of the room, and stood on it to see if I could find anything on the higher shelves. Nothing but dust. I climbed back down and waited.

Then I heard quiet, shuffling footsteps in the room. I lay flat and peeked under the door. I could make out the stocking feet and cuffs of a man's trousers. They were coming toward me. I pulled back, feeling around for something to defend myself with. The doorknob turned and stopped. Whoever it was did not have the key.

"Girl?"

It was Mrs. MacGuffin.

"You found the key?" I said.

"Yes, yes, but it doesn't fit this lock. It is too big."

"How did you find me?"

"I came in here to find some trousers. I hid under the bed when he brought you in here. Are there any boots in there? I need something for my feet if we are to escape." I heard her move away as she spoke, and drawers began to open and close.

"Yes, there are boots in here. What are you doing?"

"I am looking for the key to the dressing room."

"I think he kept it. Just slip me a hairpin under the door, and I'll see if I can pick the lock."

I had no idea how to pick a lock, and I doubted if I could. It was more useful than standing and waiting, though.

"Ah, what's this?" said the lady. The shuffling sounds stopped. "This will be useful."

"What? A key?" I said.

"No key," she said. "Not yet."

She made no more sound, and I figured she was thinking.

"He did take it with him," she said at last. "But it doesn't matter. I've thought of something else. I will be back."

I did not like the way she said it did not matter. Was she giving up on the escape again? I could hear her moving away from me.

"Don't take any chances," I called through the door as loudly as I dared. "There's no need. The marquis will be here soon."

"It's all right, girl," she said. "I will get the key. Do not worry."

The tone of her voice did make me worry. She did not sound resigned, as she had before, but she sounded...too determined. I was afraid she was determined to get the key, even if it meant wrestling it from Tybalt herself.

I heard the door open and close. Then there were voices out in the hall. I pressed my ear against the door, but I couldn't tell what they were saying. The door burst open again, and she was shouting angrily as she came back into the room.

"Keep away from me," she said. Her faint, scuffling footsteps were accompanied by loud footsteps, someone with boots on. I dropped to the ground as fast as I could, to look under the door, but I knocked the little chair aside, and its clatter covered what the man said. Now I could see the light from the hall glinting on his riding boots, as he stood. She had backed out of sight, into the corner.

"Your plot is over," she said defiantly. "You are done for. I swear you are...."

The boots stepped quickly toward her, out of my sight, and there was an explosion. It was so loud I could feel it. Then for a moment, there was no sound at all.

He shot her? No, it couldn't be. But there were no more voices. Just the sound of shuffling, as if something heavy, like a body were being pushed aside.

They had killed her. They had got Sigmond to agree and they had done it. I rolled onto my back and put my hands over my mouth, stifling an angry shout. I could hear more dragging and shuffling, so I covered my ears and tried to stop shaking. Even as I shook in horror at what they had done to her, I was thinking they would soon come after me.

I could hear his boots, clomping quickly across the room. Would he remember me? Maybe he would forget until after the marquis came. I heard the door again, and he left. He'd forgotten. Or maybe he just did not think it was urgent. He did not know the marquis was coming.

I sat up and felt around again to see if I could defend myself. The chair was too unwieldy, but I might be able to do something with it. I heard footsteps again, and the sound of the door. Light poured under my door as he entered the room. He had gone for a lamp.

I laid down and looked under the door. His boots crossed the room and stopped just beside the bed. From the way the shadows fell, he was holding the lamp high, looking at the scene in the light. He cursed under his breath, and set the lamp down. Then he came straight toward me.

I did not have the chance to grab the chair. I was only half up when the door opened and revealed Tybalt. He was frowning and he seemed angry. He grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet.

"How much did you see?" he snapped. I shook my head. He gave me a vigorous shake. "Do you know what happened? Tell me."

I leaned sideways to see beyond him. He pulled me back in line and made me look into his eyes. His nose was barely an inch from mine.

"Well, what?" he hissed.

"Nothing," I said. It was almost automatic, like an answer to Bloch when I had done something wrong. "I didn't see anything."

He looked me over. "If you're smart, you'll stick to that story," he said. He stepped back, taking me with him into the room. He looked around, chewing his lip. The lamp cast weird shadows across the bed, where the dress she had taken off was sprawled. I thought it was her for a moment. Then I saw her stockinged feet sticking out from behind the bed, where she had fallen...or been dragged.

Tybalt took up the lamp, and dashed it against the bed post, where it exploded into a small fire. He was destroying the evidence, just as he had in the church. I began to feel sick.

"Think of it as a cremation," he said casually, as the room became smoky and hot. He seemed almost sympathetic.

"Murderer!" I screamed, and I butted my head into his stomach. He fell backward, nearly into the fire, and I fled out the door.

Tybalt came after me, but fear and horror made me fast. As I came around the corner the man was sitting on the top stair, with his back to me. He leapt to his feet, and reached for me, but just then Tybalt yelled at him.

"Stop that girl!"

The man paused and looked around for the girl. I dashed past him to the backstairs, but as I yanked the door open and started to swing down, I saw someone else coming up the stairs. The only way to go was up. That's the way I went. Tybalt dashed up after me. I could hear the men puffing behind him.

"That's a boy," said one of them.

"What's the difference? Help me catch her!" Tybalt called over his shoulder.

The door at the top was small, and thank goodness it was not locked. I threw myself through it and slammed the bolt into place. It was a flimsy bolt. It would not hold them long. Already I heard the bang of them trying to batter it down.

"I'd think _you_ would know the difference between a girl and a boy, Stenbau," said a voice behind the door.

"Yeah, didn't anyone ever teach you the difference?" said another. They both chuckled.

"Get this door down," said Tybalt in exasperation.

The banging got louder, and it was accompanied by cracking sounds of the door giving way.

I had entered the attic to the older peaked roof. There was no other exit, and soon they would have the door down. Even if they did not, the fire would soon be there. There were gables in the roof, however, and the gables had windows.

The first window sash was warped and it would not move, as was the second, but the third lifted up slowly. I tugged at it, an inch at a time.

The door splintered and the three men tumbled into the room. I squeezed through the opening in the window.

* * *

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### Chapter XVIII - Another Escape

* * *

THE ROOF WAS steeply peaked. I walked along the gutter, leaning against the slope of the roof. I heard them struggling at the window behind me. I wanted to run, but the slope was too awkward. I continued along the gutter, heading back for the flat roof of the new part.

There was a loud crack and a shattering sound as they broke apart the window. The roof was almost above the fog, but still I could not see them well. One dark figure climbed onto the roof, then another. I moved faster. I could see the glow of the fire below. Smoke poured up, stinging my eyes, as I came to the corner of the building. I climbed onto the flat roof.

I coughed and staggered out of the smoke. Three forms were now on the roof behind me. They moved toward me, but they were hampered by the slope. I ran across the flat part, putting distance between me and them. Then I got to the end. I paced back and forth, feeling the edge to find a drain pipe or something to climb down on. There was nothing, and the three shadowy forms had got to the flat part of the roof. They were narrowing my area of escape. I looked around wildly. I made out the top of a tree nearby. I could easily reach it by jumping, but it was only a sapling. It was too thin. It would never hold my weight. It would bend. It would...bend?

I took three steps back and made a running jump at the tree, wrapping my arms and legs around it. At first I continued forward and down, as if nothing would slow or stop my fall. Then, as I was sure I was about to strike the ground, the tree resisted, and my flight was slowed. I was now back in the fog, and I couldn't see much, but I sensed that the tree had reached its lowest point and I let go before it could snap me back up.

I rolled and looked up. With the help of the flames in the windows I could make out the outline of the house. Perhaps the fog was clearing. I still could not see the men, but I could hear their voices.

"After her!" said Tybalt.

"He's gone," said one. "Let's go back before the fire gets too big."

"Cowards!" said Tybalt, and I heard steps and after a moment a nearby thud. He had come down the same way I did, though from the crack I heard the tree must have broken under his weight. I scrambled to my feet.

"It's no use," said Tybalt. "I can hear you."

I tried to run quietly, but I could not, and the attempt only slowed me down. A spray of wetness hit my face, and then my hands. The fog was melting into rain, and its welcome cover dissolving. The flaming house could now push back the darkness. It became a torch for Tybalt to catch me by. I thought I had better be quick and find a hiding place before all cover of mist was off. I thought I saw the stable ahead. The door was at the other side, but on my side was a large set of bushes. I dived into them, rolling into the center, and lay still. If Tybalt followed me he would become too tangled in branches to actually catch me, and I could hear him coming and escape out the other side.

Tybalt did not try to follow me. I saw his boots running up as I lay on my belly in the mud, rain dripping down the back of my neck. He stopped before the bushes.

"If you try to leave your hiding place I can hear you, Pipsqueak," he said. "And perhaps even see you now. I don't mind a little rain."

I watched the rain splatter his boots as he began to pace. I knew if I held still I would be safe until the marquis came. Now that the fog was clearing I was sure he would come soon.

"You _must_ have seen what happened," he said in an exasperated voice. "You must have...although not with the door locked. That's right. But what about the keyhole? Didn't you see through that?"

He stopped and listened. He was crazy if he thought I was going to give myself away by talking. He shifted impatiently.

"Come now, don't pretend you weren't looking through the keyhole. I know you. You couldn't help yourself." He paused. "I don't suppose you could see much in that direction. Well, you must have heard it at least."

I was getting a maddening itch in my nose. If I moved, I would rustle the branches. I put my face down in the dirt and tried to rub my nose there. It was mud by now, but it helped slightly. Tybalt crouched a little and seemed to be scanning the bushes for me. I hoped the marquis would come soon. I hoped he would come at all. I was beginning to have my doubts.

"You couldn't see through the door, and the keyhole wasn't much. Ah, but _under_ the door," he chatted on, but still pacing, still looking for me. Oh, my nose itched. I wiggled as much as I could without making noise. "Under the door, hm. What could you see under the door? The floor. Feet, well shoes, anyway. Or boots. But what could that tell you? Everybody wears boots. Very similar boots. Except for color. Did you see what color? Or...," he stopped. "He wasn't wearing any boots at all!"

He had stopped directly in front of me, the rain spattering mud on his once shiny black boots. All I could see of him was his boots, just as back in the closet, when the boots had leaped at her. I will never forget those boots....

Brown! The boots had been brown, not black.

"You didn't do it?" I said, not intending to speak aloud, but I was both shocked and relieved to realize it.

"What?" he said distractedly. Then we both realized that I had given away my position. He dove in to the bushes and grabbed me by the hair. I tried to wiggle away, but by then he had my collar too, and he dragged me out of the brush.

"You didn't do it, then?" I repeated. "You didn't kill her?"

He looked at me suspiciously.

"I didn't kill _him_ ," he said. His emphasis scared me.

"Then you did kill _her?_ " I asked.

"Her who?"

"Mrs. MacGuffin!"

"She's not dead yet, as far as I know."

The sudden vision blazed into my mind of the poor woman lying wounded in the burning house.

"So you burned her up alive!" I shoved him and started to run for the house. I do not know what I thought I could do, but that vision was like a hot spark, driving me to do something. He grabbed my wrist and held while I flailed wildly for the house.

"Wait! Wait!" he said. "That wasn't her. That was Sigmond!"

He repeated it twice before it sank in.

"Sigmond?" I said. "Not her?"

"Yes, Sigmond. Not her. She escaped." The energy went out of me, and he leaned back to take a deep breath. He did not let go, however. "I couldn't figure out why you would think I would kill Sigmond. Now I understand."

"You would have killed her," I said accusingly.

"I might have," he admitted. Then he leaned forward threateningly. "And I might commit murder yet if you don't stop making trouble for me."

He pulled my arm behind my back and looked around. He pushed me toward the house.

"So it was Sigmond, lying dead," I said. I was beginning to collect my thoughts.

"Yes. Someone shot him and then stole his boots. Poor fool."

"Oh, no," I said, realizing what must have happened. "Do you know if there was a gun in Sigmond's room?"

"He kept one in his writing table."

That is what she had found when she was looking for the key! She had found something useful, all right. Tybalt had stopped to look at me.

"Do you know what happened to his boots?"

"She needed them to escape," I said.

" _She_ killed him? Well, I'll be damned!" He then paused and looked thoughtful. "Actually, I just might be, if I'm not careful. That woman is running loose with a gun and a score to settle."

He spun around, pulling me close in front of him like a shield.

"You're afraid of her?"

"She killed him, didn't she? I'd best warn Hugo. He's the one she really hates."

We began to circle the house. The fire had spread quickly. Flames licked out of most of the windows now, and even the tree I had climbed was smoldering. People were running back and forth. Tybalt called to them not to bother about putting it out. They seemed to understand, and they melted away into the darkness. He called a warning about the woman to them as they went. Then we came round to the front, where Tybalt stopped to survey the situation.

Hugo's coach was waiting in the drive, the horses stamping and twitching in fear of the fire. The coachman was standing by them, trying to keep them calm, as they tried to bolt.

"Where is His Highness?" called Tybalt. The man had his hands full with the horses, and he only shook his head.

The cook came running around the side of the house, and Tybalt called the question to her. She gestured behind her and kept running. At that moment there was a shout.

"Tybalt! Max!" It was Hugo. He did not sound frightened, but his shout was interrupted by a loud sound, a pistol shot. Then another. The horses bolted and ran down the drive.

"Oh, damn," said Tybalt. "That sounds to me like the end of Hugo, does it to you?"

"I don't know," I said quietly. The relief I had felt when I learned that the woman was not dead had worn off. Now it was coming to me that I had still witnessed a violent death. And perhaps this was another. I'd had enough. Where was the marquis?

"Well, I'll wager it was the end of somebody. If Hugo, well, that lets you off the hook, Pipsqueak. Even I can't hide that murder. And the end of his money too. Damn."

He released my arm. I did not go anywhere. It did not occur to me that I ought to. The damage was done. Over the roar of the fire, I heard the sound of the frightened carriage horses thundering back toward us. They seemed to have multiplied. There were more shots, and shouts.

The marquis had arrived.

"They're here!" I said, jumping forward. Tybalt's hands fell hard on my shoulders.

"Sorry, Pipsqueak," he said. "That's Furlenhaur, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"Don't be so proud of yourself. That just means I'm going to need you to get out of here safely."

He twisted my arm once again behind my back. It was beginning to feel natural that way. He put his hand on my throat.

"Don't try to yell," he said, guiding me to the stable. "It won't do you any good."

In the stable he had me take up his saddle and bridle with my free arm, and he pushed me ahead of him into Regis' stall. He pushed me all the way up against the manger. He twisted my arm harder and tightened his grip on my throat.

"Now stay still, and keep quiet."

He let go and backed his horse out of the stall to where he could saddle him and watch me. Outside I heard faint sounds of men and horses. When he finished tightening the girth, Tybalt listened too, for just a minute. His hands were on the saddle, his attention not on me. His pistol was right there within reach.

I sprang forward, grabbing the gun handle as I went, and somersaulted out past him, landing on my feet. He jumped after me, but I pointed the gun at him. He stopped.

"Give that back," he said quietly.

"We'll just wait here for the marquis," I said.

"You don't want to do that."

"Don't I?"

He looked me up and down. He was thinking. I did not like that. I realized I would have to wait. He could pull a trick if I let him move.

"Have you ever seen a hanging?" he suddenly asked. "Not a pretty way to kill a man. Do you want to see me hanged?"

"I don't have to watch," I said. "But they won't hang you. Not if you give yourself up. I can tell them you didn't kill anyone."

"I'm a conspirator," he said. "And who would believe you?"

"The marquis would."

"Then he'd lock me up. Prison, Pipsqueak. It would be worse. Me? Locked up? You're just like me. You know it would be worse." He leaned forward a little. "Why are you here in your little trousers, with your hair cropped off, pointing that trembling gun at me? Hm? Freedom. That's what it is. Those skirts imprisoned your legs, didn't they. And you're getting old enough, soon they'll be adding corsets and hoops and making you smile and look pretty. Freedom, Pipsqueak."

I said nothing and he began to fidget.

"You'll have to kill me," he announced impatiently. That did not back me down either. He frowned. "So you think you have the nerve to do it?" He crouched as if to jump at me.

"Don't!" I said. I jumped back. He paused. Even if I did not shoot him, the mere sound of a shot would bring them running. He licked his lower lip and glanced toward the house and the commotion.

"Anna, have I ever done anything to harm you?" he asked. "That first night I could have killed you. I didn't. I could have killed you just now. Hugo wanted it. Now here you are threatening to kill me. Is that fair? Pipsqueak...Anna...we're friends...."

He went on quickly, but at some length, about what good friends we were. He was very convincing, but I was not listening. I was thinking about why I _was_ standing there in trousers with my hair cropped off. I realized that he had only brought it up as a point of sympathy, but he was right.

For the sake of freedom, I lowered the gun.

He did not say goodbye, or thank you. He did not even finish his sentence. The instant he saw that I relented he simply vanished, he and Regis, into the rain and remaining mist. Like a wild thing, caught and released and never a look back. That in itself made me feel I did right. I realized that the marquis was right, he was destructive and dangerous, but I thought, perhaps I was destructive and dangerous too. Less so, but break one rule and you weaken them all, right? Where did that leave me? It left me to face my consequences. His mention of prison had made me think of Andre. I had a duty to Andre. Tybalt was free because I had to go back. I had a conscience, where he did not, so I would never really be free.

I put the pistol on the floor and rubbed my knee. In all the excitement I had forgotten about it. Now it reminded me of itself with painful throbbing. Well, it was going to get a chance to heal at last. I limped out.

All of the windows were ablaze now, but the rain still kept it under control. I was so wet already that I hardly noticed the rain myself. The blaze pushed back the chill.

I limped around to the side, where I saw a group of men and horses. The marquis was among them, talking to a soldier who held Jupiter.

"Sir!" I called. He turned.

"Albert!" he cried and came running. "You're alive."

"Yes, sir."

"One of the prisoners said you were locked up in the house–"

"I was."

"–and another said you'd fallen off the roof."

"I jumped."

He paused for a very long time.

"You're all right then?"

"Just fine."

"We found Jupiter in the woods. I must say I was worried." He put his arm around my shoulders and walked me back toward the group. "Do you know what's happened to the lady?"

"She stole Sigmond's boots," I said. "They were brown and she killed him because he married her and she killed Hugo too."

"You're not making much sense, Albert."

"I know, sir." I was shaking all of a sudden. I felt like crying, or like just falling down.

"Sit down and rest. Kraus!" he called to a soldier. "Let's get that coach of Hugo's hitched up again."

"Yes, sir," said the soldier and he rushed off.

### * * *

### back to Table of Contents

### Chapter XIX - A Return

### * * *

THERE WERE BLANKETS inside the carriage and I wrapped myself up in one while I waited for the marquis.

"We'll have to get you out of those wet clothes," he said as he joined me.

"I can wait until we get back," I said. "What took you so long? The fog?"

"Yes," he said. "I'm sorry, Albert. We didn't want to alarm the guard, and we couldn't see a blasted thing."

"Neither could I."

"Are you feeling calmer now?"

"I'm all right."

"Why don't you tell me what happened?"

I told him all that had happened that night. It took a long time. I did not like remembering all of it, but I huddled in my blanket and told him. He interrupted occasionally with questions and comments.

"...and then we heard you coming and Tybalt let me go and ran away," I finished.

"You leapt off the roof?" he said suddenly. "What if you had missed the tree?"

"It seemed less dangerous than staying _on_ the roof."

He began to tap his fingers on the coach door. He looked at me.

"We're getting toward the palace now," he said. "Suppose you tell me all about this business with Jupiter before we get there. Do you know where the missing girl is?"

"Yes."

He nodded for me to go on. I paused. I did not want him to know, not ever. But he would know, and I did not see how I could stop it. Besides, I was much too tired to hide it any more. I was even too tired to brace myself for the coming reaction. Let it all come; trouble, shock, bewilderment. I did not care.

"She's right here," I said. "I'm Anna. I ran away. Nobody kidnapped me. Nobody stole my horse."

His face went completely blank. He opened his mouth, and leaned forward.

"What?"

"I'm Anna. I'm a girl."

He paused for a long time.

"I ... see," he said at last, resettling uncomfortably in his seat.

"Our stableman Andre did nothing wrong," I said. "He shouldn't be in jail."

"No, of course not," he said, but I was not sure he heard me.

He said nothing more all the way to the palace. He did not even look at me. At first I did not mind the silence, since I was so tired, but then I got to thinking. This could well be the last time I would ever see him. Aunt Elfie might lock me up, or send me away. As I watched him avoid looking at me, I began to wonder if he would even want to see me again.

I remembered Tybalt's warning. _You can't trust honest people._ He was wrong, he had to be, but I knew what he was talking about. This was what he was warning me about. I could not trust the marquis to understand.

The carriage came to a halt. I looked out to see the back entrance of the palace, the one the queen had used that first night. I had hoped we could go to the stable, so I could say goodbye there, but that was not to be. I had said goodbye to Hans already, at least.

The marquis got out without speaking. This was my last chance to speak to him. I sat up and thought desperately for what to say.

"Come along," he said, impatiently. The way he said it seemed so distant, that it made me mad. I stayed right where I was.

"Don't let Tybalt be right," I said, just loud enough for him to hear it.

He gave a start and looked at me.

"What?" he said, leaning into the carriage.

"Tybalt said I couldn't trust you. But I _did_ trust you. So don't let me down."

He looked both bewildered and angry, but at least he was looking at me.

"Just what is it you trust me to do?"

I was not sure how to answer that.

"Get Andre out of jail," I said which wasn't at all what I meant, but it was something I could trust him on.

"Yes, of course."

"And don't forget me!" I jumped up and climbed out of the carriage. "Just don't forget me."

"There's little chance of that." He looked as if he might like to, however. He waited to see if I had any other demands. I hated leaving it like this. If I was never going to see him again, I wanted him to remember that he liked Albert. I suppose I wanted him to know I had not let _him_ down.

"If I was really like Tybalt," I said. "I'd have gone with him."

He took a breath, and did not seem to know how to react, so he chose not to react at all. I think I had given him too much to think about. But since he had said he would not forget me, he really would think about it. I knew it, because I really could trust his word.

"Let's go," I said, and I turned to lead the way into the palace, even though I had no idea of where we were going.

* * *

AUNT ELFIE FAINTED when she saw me. I had wiped the mud off my face, and I suppose that is the only reason she even recognized me. She recovered pretty quickly though, and said I was a wicked child.

I was thoroughly scrubbed before bed, not that I minded, and I was too tired to complain. In the morning, however, I was covered in petticoats, more petticoats than were necessary, but Elfie seemed to be trying to make up for lost time. On top of them came a frilly pink and yellow dress. Even Celeste giggled at it. I did not feel much like giggling, so I gave my aunt a malevolent glare that made her put away the wig she had produced. Celeste clutched her belly and screeched, while Aunt Elfie settled for putting ribbons in my short hair.

I was allowed to go out on the terrace in that horrible get up. I suppose they figured I would not dare be seen in it, therefore I would not go far. In a way they were right, but since everyone who knew me stared at me anyway, trying to reconcile Anna and Albert, the frilly dress did not really bother me.

As I stood on the terrace looking out over the park, I saw Hans. I smiled and waved. I would be able to say goodbye properly after all. He stopped and cocked his head. Then a look of horror came over his face.

"So it is true," he said. "I didn't believe it." That was when I cursed Aunt Elfie for dressing me up like that. Hans was shocked.

"Yes, unfortunately, it is true," I said.

"You tricked me!" he said. "You made a fool of me. Charles hasn't left me alone, you know."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I wasn't trying...."

"You lied!"

"No, I didn't," I said. "Only my name, and you knew that wasn't true."

"Everything you did was a lie!" he said. "I thought that we were friends and you weren't even...."

"No!" I said. "No! That was true. All of it was true. _This_ is a lie."

I tore out one of the ribbons and threw it at him. That stopped him. He stood for a moment, confused. Then he threw up his hands. "I don't know," he said and he walked away.

"Hans," I said.

"I don't know!" he repeated and kept going.

I stood there for about fifteen minutes. It's a funny thing about a delicate dress. You do not want to move much when you are in it, even if you do not like it.

I went back to the palace and took off the dress. I laid on my bed in the petticoats for the rest of the day. We were leaving soon anyway.

After a while Celeste came in. She did not say a word. She just picked up the dress from the floor and left. A few minutes later she came back, this time with a nice plain travelling dress and a bonnet.

"You had better get some of those petticoats off," she said. "We're going to go soon, and this will never fit over all that."

I got up and got dressed. It was not a bad dress. It was even rather pretty, but it still seemed strange to have it on.

"Johan told me that Andre is out of jail," she said idly, flopping on the bed.

"Johan?" I said.

"Yes, you know, he's that handsome marquis. Well of course you know. You've just been calling him 'sir' too long. You can call him Johan now too, now that you're not a stableboy." She giggled.

"I always could," I said. "Only it didn't seem right. It still doesn't. It's funny, it's harder adjusting to being a girl after only a short time being a stableboy, than it was becoming a stableboy after a whole lifetime of being a girl."

"Oh, Anna," she said, laughing. "It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back," I said.

"No it isn't," she said.

"Yes, it is."

"Ha!" she said, jumping up from the bed. "You're miserable, I _know_ it. But I'll cheer you up. Let's go before Mother comes to get us."

* * *

THE CARRIAGE WAS waiting out front, loaded with luggage. A groom had gone ahead with Jupiter. Hans was holding the coach horses. I was not sure if I should speak to him, or what I should say, but he spoke first.

"Albert," he said as I approached.

"Anna," I said, and smiled.

"Right. Anna.

I went over to him, but Aunt Elfie came up behind and called sharply. "Anna! No talking to the servants. Get in the carriage."

"I'm sorry," he said quickly.

"Thank you," I said. "Goodbye."

"Wait!" he said as I turned to go. He thrust a box into my hands before Aunt Elfie could see it.

Elfie urged me into the coach before I could ask what it was. I was thankful that she stayed behind to talk to some friends while Celeste and I settled into our seats. I was able to open the box in peace.

Inside lay a pair of spurs. They were not silver, but they were intricately carved, from wood. They were just like the tournament prize.

"Let me see!" said Celeste, taking one. "Oh, look inside."

Inside the curve of the spur was some writing. It said, "Albert the Great."

"Hans' father must have carved these," I said. "He must have started right after the tournament."

"There's a note," said Celeste.

There was a piece of paper in the bottom of the box. When I unfolded it I saw that it was written in ornate, though clumsy, letters. I suspected Philip of composing it.

"Award of Merit," It said in big letters at the top. Then it went on. "For eliminating the pestilence that lay upon the Royal Stables (otherwise known as Wilhelm Bloch) and for brightening the lives of countless stableboys and horses by means of the above mentioned elimination, and for conquering the raging Sea Sprite, and for surviving rumored encounters with traitors, murderers, arsonists, and maybe more, as well as at least one documented midnight trip in the seat box of a poorly sprung trap, we award these spurs to ALBERT THE GREAT, whose only defeat was to a steely eyed old bat of an aunt, which hardly counts. Nobody can stand up against aunts."

Aunt Elfie opened the door to the carriage and Celeste snatched up the spurs and hid them. Elfie climbed in. The carriage began to move. I pushed open the door to lean out.

"Bye, Hans!" I called and waved.

"Anna!" said Aunt Elfie.

"Thanks!" I continued. He was waving back. "Tell Philip thanks, too. I'll write."

"Anna, sit down!"

I did as she said. The carriage was going too fast now and Hans was out of sight. I sat back in my seat and smiled at her. It _was_ nice to be going home, really.

Especially since I had just realized that Hans had been angry with me, but he had gotten over it, so perhaps the same could happen with the Marquis. Perhaps the Marquis had a harder time because no matter how much good he remembered about Albert, he also remembered how I was like Tybalt sometimes.

But I was not Tybalt von Stenbau. I would not ever give up on honest people. Maybe that was the difference that the Marquis didn't understand. The rules were against me, but that didn't mean I was against them, not all of them. I was going to have to figure out how to show him that breaking one rule was not breaking them all.

I did not know how I was going to manage it, but one thing I knew for sure, my adventure was far from done.

* * *

The End

= * * * =

Find more mystery, fantasy and adventure stories by Camille LaGuire at her website <http://www.camillelaguire.com/>.

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