Authors: Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Tags: #Fantasy, #Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Horror, #Occult & Supernatural, #Guardian and Ward, #Vampires, #Nobility, #blood, #Paramours, #Switzerland
Borne in Blood (43 page)
“Yes, yes. Of course. But it will be …” His words trailed off. He gathered his resolve and began again. “We have evidence and proof—very credible proof—that the man who has been a second leader to the robbers is well-reputed in the region, not the sort you would expect to be helping criminals: Augustus Kleinerhoff.” His head dropped as if he had been struck a blow.
Ragcozy stood very still. “Kleinerhoff? The head-man of Sacre-Sang? Are you sure?” If this were true, Ragoczy wondered how he could have been so mistaken in the man.
“Sadly, yes I am.” He put his sugar-loaf hat on his knee. “I will explicate how I come to know this in a moment.”
“The second leader, you say?”
“Yes.” There was a brief silence while Lindenblatt gathered his thoughts. “He has an assistant of a kind, as well.”
“If your information and your proof is correct and trustworthy,” Ragoczy appended. “Are you certain it is accurate?”
“Unfortunately, it is.” Lindenblatt nodded, looking even more uncomfortable. “I must ask you to discuss this with no one, to say nothing until the court publishes its findings on the matter, which will be tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. As the case has bearing on you, and as I have need of access to one of your staff, I am going to take you into my confidence. Do I have your pledge of confidentiality?”
“You have my Word,” said Ragoczy. “I am willing to remain silent for as long as required.”
“Thank goodness you are willing.” Lindenblatt took a large handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. “I am still much troubled by all we have learned.”
“You will have a difficult time in the region if what you say is true. It is one thing to mete out justice to the robbers, but quite another to persecute local men.” Ragoczy had a short, unpleasant recollection of the trouble at Padova, at Cuzco, and of Jui Ah at Mao-T’ou fortress.
“I am aware of that; I would be more elated if some other had been revealed as the miscreant.” Lindenblatt steadied himself and added, “What is most distressing is that the leader of the band of robbers is Kleinerhoff’s nephew, from Halle. He was a Captain of cavalry under Napoleon, and has suffered because of his loyalty. He gathered a group of former soldiers around him, and some men of dubious probity, and they became the heart of his band, with the aid of Kleinerhoff and his assistant.” Now that he had revealed so much, he seemed about to collapse from exhaustion.
“As sad as all this is, why do you want to see someone on my staff?’ Ragoczy said with unfailing courtesy.
“Because it seems one of your household has acted as a … as a connection between the robbers and Herr Kleinerhoff.” He stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket. “I regret to inform you of this, but the investigation has shown that this is true. I have seen the sworn testimony, and I have reviewed the evidence. It explains why some thought you were part of the outlaws.” His cheeks grew ruddy, and he was about to continue his oblique apology when the knock on the door interrupted him.
“I have ordered refreshments for you,” said Ragoczy. “I hope you will not refuse them.”
“No, I won’t; I am parched and famished,” said the Magistrate. “I would like to think you will not hold my duty against me.”
“Whom do you seek here?” Ragoczy asked as he went to open the door.
Hildegard brought a tray into the room and carried it to the occasional table next to Lindenblatt’s chair. “Magistrate,” he said as he set it down.
Lindenblatt nodded and said to Ragoczy. “You know, in my father’s day, no servant would address any of us directly. They spoke only when spoken to, and would not look at their betters.”
“This way is much more practical,” said Ragoczy. “The change is for the good.”
“I hope so,” said Lindenblatt, and poured himself a large glass of beer from the stoneware pitcher Hildegard had brought.
“I’ll ring for you when the Magistrate is through, thank you,” said Ragoczy, dismissing Hildegard.
“Comte,” said Hildegard, and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Ragoczy watched while Lindenblatt took a long drink of beer, then asked again, “Whom do you seek here?”
Lindenblatt set down the glass. “I regret to say that our information shows it is your second coachman.”
“You mean Marcel Lustig? He has worked for me only two months.”
“No, no, not Lustig. Ulf Hochvall.” He spoke the name as if confessing to a great wrong.
“Hochvall?” Ragoczy looked shocked. “Are you sure?”
“I wish I were not.” Lindenblatt took a second long draught of the beer and reached for a wedge of cheese.
“He has not been in my employ since the end of April.” Ragoczy paused to consider how to go on. “I have helped him set up in a drayage business in Sacre-Sang; Kleinerhoff aided me in making the arrangements; being the head-man of Sacre-Sang, he was in a position to hurry things along.” He gave a single, ironic laugh. “This is not what Hochvall wanted, but he was resigned to it: since his leg was broken, Hochvall has not been able to handle a coach-and-four. Both of us hoped his leg would mend completely, but since it did not, I have sought to provide him a living of some sort. He was disappointed not to be able to continue as a coachman.”
“If that is the case, he has repaid your generosity most shabbily,” said Lindenblatt, swallowing his cheese with the help of a sip of beer. “He has been passing information to Kleinerhoff for the last three years. He has occasionally sheltered the robbers in your coach-barn. It was he who sought to turn suspicion on you.”
“That is …” He left the rest unsaid.
“The mark of an unworthy man,” said Lindenblatt. “I will have to order him charged; I had hoped to do so while I was here, but if he is in Sacre-Sang, then I must shortly go there.” He took another wedge of cheese and bit into it, chewing vigorously.
“The villagers are bound to know you are coming. The harvesters will announce you as sure as fanfares.” Ragoczy tapped the secretary-desk. “If they support Herr Kleinerhoff, then you may find it difficult to arrest anyone.”
“Just this morning most of the band of robbers was captured by the Magistrates’ guard. All of them have been offered the opportunity to receive a reduced sentence if each of them will give a sworn statement to the court in regard to all their activities. That is proceeding as we speak. I have seen what the guards seized, which includes two registers of loot and booty. I had no idea of how extensive their activities have been.”
“And you are certain that Kleinerhoff and Hochvall are implicated?” Ragoczy asked sadly.
“I have proof in three forms, including several letters from Kleinerhoff that were seized during the arrests of the robbers, describing where and when the band could strike for best results. He mentions Hochvall in a dozen notes, describing how trustworthy he is, and approving his knowledge of roads and lanes in the region. Kleinerhoff’s hand has been recognized by my clerk, who knows it very well.” He finished his glass of beer. “I am dismayed to have to inform you of all this, but better that you hear it now, from me, than from someone else with incorrect information.”
“True,” said Ragoczy. “I am grateful to you for tending to something so distasteful in such a prompt manner.” He lifted his head, hearing another coach approaching. He turned to Lindenblatt. ‘If you will excuse me?”
“Another visitor?” Lindenblatt asked nothing more as he took his hat from his knee and replaced it on his head. “I will not be long here; there is much yet to do.” He rose to his feet. “If you will do me the service of coming into Yvoire tomorrow for the first court procedure, I would very much appreciate it.”
“Yes, of course,” said Ragoczy. “At what hour?”
“At nine I will begin. If you would, bring with you all correspondence you have had with Herr Kleinerhoff, and any records you have of your dealings with Hochvall. If you arrive half-an-hour early, I will brief you on what is to come. Magistrate Fulminus will be handling the actual charging of the outlaws, but I am still primary administrator of the case.” He looked back at the tray. “I wish I had had more time to enjoy your hospitality. But there is much to do.”
Ragoczy held the door for him. “I will be in Yvoire at eight tomorrow morning, and will be at your disposal.”
“Merci, Comte,” said Lindenblatt and sighed. “Now that we are Swiss France again, we must speak in French. When we become Swiss again, we will probably revert to German, or possibly Italian.”
Ragoczy expressed no opinion, but nodded seriously and indicated the front door where Balduin was waiting. “Until tomorrow, Magistrate. I thank you for doing me the courtesy of making this call.”
Outside, the second coach was nearing the turn into the paved courtyard; grooms were coming from the stable to take it in hand.
“Preferable to a summons, isn’t it?” Lindenblatt said, then started down the broad, shallow steps toward his coach.
“Balduin, if you will inform Madame von Scharffensee that—” Ragoczy began, only to hear footsteps behind him.
“Is this Hedda?” Hero breathed from just behind his shoulder. “Is that her coach?”
“I assume so; Gutesohnes is driving,” said Ragoczy, stepping aside so that Hero could see the four Kladrubers come to a halt behind the Magistrates’ coach.
“Oh. Oh, dear,” said Hero as a sudden stab of panic went through her. “I hope I have done the right thing, that she and I will—What if this doesn’t work out?”
“That is the gamble we all take whenever we extend ourselves,” said Ragoczy with such kindness that Hero gasped. “What matters is that you are willing to try.”
“You’re right: I mustn’t lose sight of that,” she decided aloud. “Shall I go out to her?”
“You may want to wait until she is out of the coach, so you may take your cue from her.” As Magistrate Lindenblatt’s coach pulled forward to turn around, the second coach came up to the edge of the steps.
“We traveled quickly,” Gutesohnes called from the driving-box. “The horses have earned their oats today. They kept up a steady trot for three leagues.” He set the brake and prepared to get down.
Balduin stepped forward, opened the door and let down the steps, then moved aside to allow the passengers to get out while Gabriel, the new footman, got off the rear of the coach and unbuckled the boot-cover.
First out was Oberin Josepha; the Mother Superior was impressive in her dark-gray-and-white habit, although her starched headdress was a bit wilted. She bowed rather than curtsied. “Comte Franciscus, it is good to see you again,” she said in German.
“And you, Oberin.” He bowed slightly to her. “I trust you had a good journey?”
“Oh, yes,” said Oberin Josepha. “Your coach is quite luxurious.” She swung around, her habit shielding the descent of the second passenger. “Come along, child. We have reached the home of the Comte. You remember him, and Madame von Scharffensee.”
A small figure in a dull-pink frock emerged from the coach, climbing down the steps backward, and taking refuge in the ample folds of the Oberin’s habit, large, chary blue eyes peering around the nun.
“Oh, welcome, welcome, Hedda,” said Hero. “Please come in. Both of you.”
“She is a little shy,” said Oberin Josepha. “Come, child. Make your curtsy. The lady is going to take care of you from now on. Show her how much you appreciate her care.” She covered her annoyance with a suggestion of amusement. “This isn’t a game, Hedda.”
Hedda hung back.
“Until tomorrow,” called out Magistrate Lindenblatt as his coach started down the drive, picking up speed.
Ragoczy held up his hand in farewell, thinking that he should probably decide which of his records to take with him in the morning. He held out his hand to Hero. “Let the nun bring her to you. It will be less upsetting that way.”
“I want to hug her, but I suppose she will need time for that.” Hero sighed once. “I don’t care how long it takes: I want her to be glad to be with me.”
“That is an impulse I understand well,” he said and fell in beside her, offering the steadiness of his arm as she came down the steps.
“Hedda,” said Hero. “I am here to welcome you.”
The child took firm hold of the Oberin’s skirts.
Gutesohnes alighted at last and slapped his duster, laughing at the clouds that arose from the canvas. “Take the team to the stable and walk them for twenty minutes, then turn them out in the big paddock,” he ordered the grooms. “I will come to see to their grooming in an hour.”
“When you have finished with the horses,” Ragoczy said, raising his voice to be heard, “then come to my study. You and I have matters to discuss.”
Gutesohnes ducked his head to show compliance. “After dinner, if you will permit.”
“Certainly,” said Ragoczy, glad of the reprieve, however brief. Before nightfall, he would have to send word to the stable to have a horse saddled for him at six in the morning., but that could wait; now he had a much more pleasant task—to walk out toward the carriage with Hero to greet the diffident child in the drab frock and simple straw bonnet, who stood at the side of the travel-rumpled Mother Superior, and do all that he could to make both of them feel welcome at Château Ragoczy.
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