History Keepers 1: The Storm Begins (22 page)

Jake felt brave enough to ask her some questions. ‘So, bringing things down to earth, how long have you been … doing this kind of thing? In the History Keepers’ Secret Service, that is.’

Topaz gazed out across the river. ‘Well, I was born during the battle of Poitiers in the Hundred Years War. And when I say “during”, it was apparently in the ammunition tent in the middle of the battlefield. Thankfully I have no recollection of it. But I do remember my first Crusade, at the age of four. My mother took me to eleventh-century Jerusalem “to show me the ropes”, and things never really changed much from then on.’

Jake detected a certain brittleness in Topaz’s tone. He wasn’t sure if he should continue, but found himself asking one more question: ‘And would it be rude to ask – what happened to your parents?’

Any trace of a smile now vanished completely from Topaz’s face. The dark shadow of sorrow had taken over.

Jake felt terrible. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’

‘It’s all right, I understand. You’re worried about
your
parents,’ Topaz replied bravely. ‘Alan and Miriam are wonderful people, Jake. I am sure they are safe somewhere. I can feel it here,’ she said, touching her heart. She looked deep into his eyes. ‘The story of my parents was very different.’

And that was all she would say on the matter.
She
gazed out at the river a little longer, then turned and took Jake’s hand. ‘Let’s go and find Charlie before
his
holiday romance gets out of control.’

Jake laughed and followed her into the crowd.

The sound of fiddles drifted across the valley and along the Rhine. It became fainter and fainter as a warm breeze carried it through the night clouds to the castle perching high on the nearby peak. Here, behind granite walls fifteen feet deep, two figures sat forlornly in a dungeon …

‘I wonder what his last meal was,’ pondered one.

Nathan Wylder and Paolo Cozzo were leaning against a damp stone wall in a prison cell lit only by a single ray of moonlight that came through a barred loophole window. One of the walls consisted of a partition of thick iron bars, through which the rest of the murky dungeons could be glimpsed. Nathan still had a steely glint in his eye, but Paolo was a picture of despair.

‘Whatever it was, his last meal, I am categorically not going to order it,’ Nathan declared. The object of his musings was a skeleton propped against the opposite wall of the cell.

Paolo rolled his eyes. His stomach made a strange
rumbling
sound. A minute passed before he muttered morosely, ‘How do you know it’s a man?’

‘Was that a question?’ Nathan gasped. ‘This is exciting! We’re having a
conversation
! You said we weren’t going to have any of those again. Hmmm – you’re right, maybe it is a young lady. That might change things.’ He rearranged his matted hair and torn jacket and winked seductively at the skeleton. ‘Doing anything tonight?’

Paolo sighed. The faint sound of music drifted up from the village below. As Nathan hummed the tune, suddenly an idea struck him and he clambered to his feet. ‘I know …’

‘What?’ Paolo asked excitedly.

‘Why don’t we dance?’

Paolo gritted his teeth. ‘You really are hysterically funny,’ he muttered, and slumped back down again.

‘Actually I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to my new friend here, Esmerelda.’ He held out his hand to the skeleton. ‘Esmerelda, do you fancy a waltz with me? Or a polka – or I can go more baroque if you like? I promise not to tread on your bones.’

‘Shut up, Nathan!’ Paolo finally exploded. ‘I’m sick, I’m tired, I haven’t eaten in three days – we’re
going
to starve to death, or be tortured or cut up into pieces, and all you can do is make stupid jokes!’

‘Haven’t eaten? Your memory is playing tricks: we had those delicious cockroaches this morning. I thought the texture was revelatory. And as for making jokes, we have to, don’t we? Humour is what sets us apart from the animals.’

‘SHUT UP!’ Paolo yelled. ‘OR I WILL NOT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY ACTIONS!’ In frustration, he scooped up a pile of hay from the ground and threw it at Nathan.

Nathan crouched down beside the skeleton, sharing a guilty look with it. ‘Sorry about my friend,’ he whispered confidentially. ‘Italian – very dramatic.’

His eye caught something on the ground: a tiny piece of material that he’d uncovered with his foot. Nathan reached forward and picked it up. An inscription was sewn onto it. He read it quietly to himself: ‘
Marks and Spencer
?’ He rubbed the material with his fingers. ‘Synthetic, obviously twentieth century.’ Then a terrible thought struck him. ‘Miriam and Alan Djones.’

‘What’s that?’ Paolo looked up.

‘Nothing,’ replied Nathan breezily, slipping the
tag
into his pocket. He covertly scanned the floor for any other signs of previous occupants.

Suddenly they heard the distant sounds of keys jangling and a door being unlocked. Paolo gasped and sat up, not knowing whether to feel delight or terror. Heavy footsteps approached. Candlelight flickered on the vaulted roof beyond the bars of the cell, and finally the elegant figure of Mina Schlitz glided into view, accompanied by a single guard carrying a lantern.

Mina stopped and stared down at the two prisoners. In her hand she held a great domed pewter charger. She lifted the lid to reveal a magnificent array of food: cuts of cold meat, fresh bread and a mountain of fruit.

‘Food? You’ve brought us food?’ Paolo stammered in disbelief, pulling himself to his feet.

Mina replaced the lid, put the platter on the ground and, pointedly, pushed it away from them with her heel. She withdrew her red-backed snake from the box at her waist and wound it around her wrist. ‘The prince would like to know if you are hungry enough yet to strike a deal.’

‘A deal – of course,’ Paolo exclaimed. ‘We’ll do a
deal
. What does it involve?’ He clung to the bars excitedly.

‘My friend is dehydrated and not thinking properly,’ interjected Nathan. ‘We don’t negotiate with the enemy.’

‘Really?’ purred Mina. ‘That’s very odd. You’re given two alternatives: a slow, lingering death or a purposeful and glorious career with the very creators of history.’

‘Purposeful career! I’d go for that every time,’ enthused Paolo. ‘Where do we sign?’

Nathan removed him from the bars and steered him to the back of the cell. ‘I’m warning you –
no more
.’

He turned to face Mina. His expression was no longer playful: his face was grave and his eyes alert.

‘History has already been created, Miss Schlitz,’ he said in a deep, forceful tone. ‘It’s had enough problems already. We don’t wish to make things worse.’ His expression hardened another notch. ‘There are no deals to be made.’

A smile played across Mina’s face. ‘The last people who were locked in this cell said the same thing.’ Her voice dropped to a teasing whisper. ‘I’ve heard that their demise was wonderfully
un
pleasant.’ Again, she kicked the pewter platter yet further from the prisoners’ grasp. ‘There’s still time for second thoughts.’ She nodded to the guard, and they both turned to go.

‘But if I may make so bold, Miss Schlitz …?’

Mina stopped and looked round hopefully.

‘Red isn’t your colour at all,’ Nathan teased. ‘I dare say you think it goes with that friendly viper of yours, but actually, they’re different tones: your dress is magenta, the markings on your serpent are vermilion. Subtle clashes can be a sign of confidence, but in your case, I think it’s verging on the vulgar.’

Mina’s face darkened angrily. She turned and strode away, the guard and the light vanishing with her. There came the sound of a door slamming shut and keys turning.

‘Don’t you feel better for that? More alive?’ asked Nathan, turning to his companion.

But Paolo merely shuddered with misery.

20 T
HE
R
USSIAN
V
ISITORS

‘SOMEONE’S HERE, ‘WHISPERED
Jake as he patted Topaz on the shoulder.

It took her a moment to surface from her deep sleep, but suddenly her eyes flashed open; she pulled back the covers and leaped out of bed, already fully dressed. Charlie also surfaced and sat up quickly.

‘Down there,’ Jake whispered. He pointed through a gap in the curtain. In the street below, like an apparition emerging from a blanket of morning mist, stood a carriage.

The three of them had discussed their plans just before going to bed, and now they snapped into action.

‘You’re clear about what you’re doing?’ Charlie asked.

Jake nodded confidently. ‘At school I went down a storm in
Oliver
!’ he lied.

‘Here are your props …’ said Charlie, handing Jake a bowl of bloody offal. ‘Entrails, compliments of the chef.’ Then he added dryly, ‘And you two wonder why I’m a vegetarian.’

‘Let’s take our positions, everyone,’ instructed Topaz.

They all crept down the stairs.

In the street, a young couple descended from the carriage and took a disdainful look around the village. The gentleman was tall and chinless; his companion was sour-faced and haughty. Both were dressed in the fashions of the period and, even though it was July, draped with a veritable menagerie of fur: dead minks, ocelots and martens. The lady withdrew a whip from her belt and cracked it at the ancient driver, barking an order at him. As the poor man was feeling his way down from his seat, coughing and wheezing, Charlie came out of the inn and rushed over to the pair with an expression of panic on his face.

‘Castle Schwarzheim?’ he asked them.

Their faces were momentarily blank.

‘English?
Deutsch? Français
?’ asked Charlie.

‘
Russki
,’ the lady replied indignantly.

From then on Charlie and the couple spoke in fluent Russian. ‘I believe you may be on your way to Castle Schwarzheim …’ he said.

‘Castle Schwarzheim, yes,’ answered the man.

‘Your names, please?’ Charlie asked. He was holding the guest list that Jake had found in Mina’s Schlitz’s tent.

‘Mikhail and Irina Volsky,’ the lady answered with a sigh of irritation.

‘From Odessa,’ her husband added.

Charlie scanned the parchment and found their names near the bottom of the list. ‘Yes, of course. Thank God I found you in time – thank God!’ He breathed a sigh of relief. ‘You must take cover immediately. It’s dangerous!’ he said, sweeping his hand around the entire valley. ‘Highwaymen! An army of them.’

Irina gasped as she gazed around. The driver, who was still standing there, looked terrified.

‘Where?’ the husband asked.

‘On the road ahead – on the road behind. Everywhere. A gang of fifty of them! All savages! This very morning four people were killed and dismembered.’ Charlie did an impression of throats
being
cut that made Irina clutch the pearls around her neck in alarm.

Red-headed Heidi emerged from the inn, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She had come out to see to the new arrivals, but Charlie intercepted her.

‘Friends of mine – I’ll deal with them. You go back to bed,’ he whispered, switching to German. He ushered her back into the inn, closed the door behind her and returned to the Volskys.

‘If you follow me, I will show you to your room.’

‘Room?’ Irina asked.

‘You’ll need to stay here until the danger passes. You will be safe.’

Charlie tried to usher them towards the inn, but the Volskys were evidently appalled by the idea.

‘At a common tavern? Impossible!’ Irina exclaimed, shaking herself free.

Just then, the expression on the old driver’s face changed. He saw a figure approaching along the street. It was Topaz, running towards them at full tilt. ‘Help! Help!’ she wailed.

Irina’s jaw gradually dropped as Topaz drew closer. Her dress and hands were covered in blood.

‘They’re coming! There’s so many of them! They killed my husband! They’re coming!’ Topaz gasped
as
she flew past the astonished Russians and into the inn.

But the show was not over yet: another figure was limping towards them. Jake took the role of the dying husband, and he made sure that it was the performance of his life.

He was drenched in blood. He held one hand dramatically aloft; the other clutched a gory fistful of entrails to his stomach. If Topaz’s act had been all about the voice, Jake’s was pure mime. He staggered towards them, his head shaking as if in shock. Irina recoiled in disgust as he held out a bloody hand towards her face. He tried to speak, but could not form words, instead moaning piteously. Then his body stiffened and he crumpled to the ground. His body shook a little and then was still.

As Charlie caught a glimpse of Topaz in the doorway of the inn, he shook his head, worried that Jake’s performance had blown their cover. But the Russians were now convinced of the danger. Irina immediately headed for the inn door, her husband following close behind. Charlie took them upstairs and showed them into the suite they had just vacated. Irina Volsky had never been so pleased to see a low-ceilinged room full of rustic furniture. She
dashed
over to the window, threw the flowerpot out and closed the shutters.

‘You’ll be safe here until further notice,’ offered Charlie.

Irina slammed the door in his face and bolted it.

Charlie came downstairs to find the poor driver shaking with anxiety in the hallway.

‘Come this way.’ Charlie showed him into the comfortable downstairs room and produced two gold coins. ‘Buy yourself a feast and the best room for the night.’ Then he added in a mischievous whisper, ‘No bandits.’

The driver was nonplussed. Charlie pointed out of the window. In the street, Jake stood up, wiped the mess from his clothes and took a bow for his own amusement. The driver’s face was transformed by a huge smile.

They wasted no time: they quickly drove the Volskys’ carriage away from the village and headed for the copse from which they had scouted out the gatehouse. On the back seat of its sumptious interior, Topaz found the couple’s invitation to the ‘summit’. The phrase
It will be a pleasure to finally meet
… provided the agents with an invaluable
piece
of information: namely that the Volskys had never actually met their host. The invitation was signed, in blood-crimson, by Prince Zeldt himself.