Iron Butterflies

  From the man by my side came a low but carrying whistle. Moments later I heard the sound of hooves, slowly, as if the horse moved at little better than a walk. There came into view that curtained carriage which had brought me here. I was put within it, given no more time to exchange a single word with the man who had been my escort throughout my adventure.

  Huddling within the folds of my cape, still shivering, I tried to set my thoughts in sensible order. It was true that I had been acknowledged by the Elector, yes, but so far only secretly, with but Colonel Fenwick as witness. We might both claim the truth of what had happened and not be believed. In fact the whole meeting had been carried out under such a veil of secrecy that I did not see that I had gained in truth what I had come for—looking at it coldly and shutting out of my mind as best I could the extraordinary influence the dying man had had on my emotions. It was still left to him to signify whether our relationship would ever be openly acknowledged, and I knew that I must never discuss what I had done—especially with the Gräfin.

  In this matter, my hands clenched hard upon the folds of my cloak, and I caught my lower lip between my teeth, I was alone. Who dared I trust? That old, old man, for all his force of personality and spirit, might well be dead before morning. And the orders and wishes of the dead then depend only on the will of the living. It could be denied easily that I had ever seen him, that he had acknowledged me.

  The Gräfin's suggestion of the treasure being willed to me—that I never considered as a possibility. Perhaps it was some dream of her own. That it would fall into my hands even if the Elector so desired—that I was sure would never be allowed. I did not want it. What I had come for—the vindication of my grandmother— a public vindication!— I began to realize might never be mine at all, even though I valued that above all the wealth of Hesse-Dohna thrown into a single heap.

  Perhaps it all could have been done—Lydia Wyllyses's rights made plain and public—if the Elector had not been struck down. He was still, in spite of his crippling, a man of strong purpose, as witness his dealing with his unpleasant daughter's invasion of his sickroom. But, as the Colonel had warned me, his needs must depend far too much now on the aid of others. I shook my head in warning to myself, I must be prepared for failure.

  Yet I remained glad that I had seen him, even in his weakness. Seen, and somehow felt, that bond between us which we had never had time to explore. Perhaps another meeting—a spark of hope sprung to life in my mind. I pinned that hope to his display of courage and will and would hold to it.

  The return to the Zreibruken house took less time than my trip to the palace, perhaps the hour being so much later and the streets less busy, we returned by a straighter route. I descended again in the stable yard and a man whose face was only a blur escorted me to the door, rapped twice, and was gone before I could thank him. Truda opened the door, a single candle in her hand, a thick shawl about her. She made a sign to come quickly and sped along the inner ways of the house as if she feared a patrol of watchmen were about to capture sight of us.

  Within my own chamber, the door tightly closed, she did not follow me farther into the room, rather stood, as the Colonel had once done in this house, her ear to the paneling, listening. There was a shadow of fear on her young face. Then she did come close to me and whispered:

  “Gracious lady, the Gräfin—she has been twice to this door within the hour to ask how you did. I said you slept. And one of the footmen, Heinrich, he has been along the corridor several times—though he has no business here—it is as if he is a sentry.”

  “How did you—?”

  Truda smiled nervously. “Gracious lady, each time I spoke of your bad head and that I had made you a tisane to keep you sleeping until the pain was gone— a herb drink I had learned of my mother. Also I did other things— See?”

  She passed beyond me and held the candle higher so that it shown partly into the cavern of the bed. I gasped as I allowed my cloak to fall.

  There was a sleeper there—in my place!

  Truda grasped the cover, twisted it away from that form. There were pillows placed in line, crowned by a lace cap into which a silken scarf had been stuffed to give it the roundness of a head. Her smile was full as she looked to me for approbation.

  “Most clever!” I gave her that at once. “I have much to thank your quick wits for, Truda.”

  “Gracious lady, I ask only to serve you.” She curtsied. “See—I have told them that I, too, sleep here tonight so that I am within call if you need me.” She waved the candle about to display a huddle of blankets on the dais at the foot of the bed. “In the older days it was always so with the maids—they must be ever there if their ladies needed them. I am from the country where they still follow the old ways, the Gräfin knows this. She would not think my actions strange.”

  The Colonel had chosen his aid within this house well. I had been considering the matter of trust during my return from the palace. Had I perhaps now found my answer—or at least part of it—here in the person of this girl? Could I place in Truda the same reliance that I would have in Letty and expect the same perfect loyalty and help in return? How I longed to believe that I could! Yet I must not do now in haste—and my inner need—something which I might well come to regret bitterly in the future.

  Chapter 7

  My sleep was haunted by dreams that I could not remember when I was brought awake by a roll of sound so loud and insistent that I sat up in bed listening and shivering. Bells—the tolling of bells! Their clamor came from every side—not sounding an alarm, I decided after a moment of dazed listening, rather they peeled solemnly as in mourning.

  I slipped out of bed and sped to the nearest window. Outside the gray of dawn was lightening into early day. As I pushed open the casement the bell song was near deafening, the same sad notes repeated over and over.

  There could be only one cause for such tolling. The Elector was dead and all the churches in Axelburg so announced his departure from this world. One cannot force sorrow. The complete emptiness I had felt at my grandmother's death did not visit me now. Only—I found myself wishing I had been given some chance to know better that man I had seen in the great state bed, whom I had only met when he must have been already dying. What I had sensed in him might have led us both to—

  I shook my head at my own thoughts. Joachim-Ernest, Elector of Hesse-Dohna, had been little to me in life. What could I feel for him now but this disappointment? I had no strong tie with him. Slowly I drew the casement shut and tried to think sensibly and coherently of what this would mean to me.

  There would never now be any public recognition such as my grandmother's letter, the promises made to me, had brought me overseas to claim. Therefore it followed that the sooner I was out of Axelburg, the better it might be.

  In spite of all the Gräfin's hints and the suggestions made by Colonel Fenwick, I wanted nothing but what was denied me now by death. If my grandfather had been so ill-advised as to mention me in some will or other official paper, I might even be in trouble. I had no illusions concerning the reaction of the Abbess-Princess Adelaide, and perhaps other members of the Family, to my existence. Those intriguers, whom my grandfather had been able to keep at bay when he still lived, would now be vultures seeking the kill and I would be a likely victim if I made myself known.

  I could, under the circumstances as they now were, I was sure, depend very little on the Gräfin and her silent husband, of whom I had seen so little. As for the Colonel—I need only recall the Gräfin's disparaging words concerning him. With his patron gone it might well be that he would be stripped of all power, perhaps even in trouble himself.

  The sooner I was out of Axelburg, of Hesse-Dohna— the better. It was now my problem to see how I might contrive that flight. I had been brought here by ways planned by the dead man; I had no ready access to even a carriage in which to cross the city, let alone the country—and the other countries and principalities which now might lie between me and the sea. I did have money—
but I was not even sure there was any means of public conveyance such as a stage. A young female traveling alone could hope for no better than scant tolerance, might well expect insult and even danger.

  I huddled into my chamber robe and sat down, trying to think, as my grandmother had early impressed upon me, sensibly and with care, weighing one chance against another. If I could reach Hamburg, I could, I was almost certain, find passage on some ship bound for a port in my own country. But between me and Hamburg lay how many miles, at least one frontier to be crossed. Germany was divided, despite the heavy-handed remapping of Napoleon, into a number of independent states, most under highly autocratic rulers.

  Nor was I sure even what route a possible stage might follow. I clenched my hands to still their sudden shaking as I faced firmly the fact that I was without any resources save my own wits and the gold I had.

  Money could buy much, but it could also spark betrayal. I must move with the utmost care. Only, where did I start? The Colonel? Surely at this moment he would be highly embroiled in the changes brought about by the Elector's death. There was only one other—the girl Truda, though what use to me an untraveled peasant girl might be now I could not tell.

  I made myself rise, tried to forget the constant tolling of the bells, and crossed the room to tug at the bellcord. However, it was not Truda who opened my door moments later.

  Perhaps she had been knocking and the bells had drowned out the sound, but the Gräfin came in hurriedly. She was wearing a beruffled and lace-festooned chamber robe, most of her hair bundled up under a baggy cap. Even in this dimmer morning light her face showed wrinkles and lines not heretofore visible, so I guessed she had not waited for any ministrations by her maid. Her expression was one of avid eagerness.

  “Amelia!” Before I could move she caught both of my hands in hers, and, had I not instinctively retreated a step, I think she would have embraced me. “Amelia, he is dead! Is it not a tragedy? Not to have seen him— not at all—? But we know what he wished, what he must have decided for you!”

  She was actually able to summon tears to trickle down her plump cheeks. Her eyes, though, watched me with a sly searching.

  “I am sorry for his people. From what I have heard he was a good ruler.” To find the right words was difficult; I knew that I must never betray my adventure of the night before. “I am sorry also that we did not meet—”

  “Not to see you, a child of his own blood for whom he had such plans, never to welcome you!” She dropped her hold on me, for I had not responded to her gesture. Now she actually wrung her hands together. “This is a hard loss, Amelia, such a sad, sad thing!”

  “Perhaps it is all for the best,” I returned quickly, seeing a small opening to begin to press my own decision. “I do not think I would have been welcome at court, Luise. From all you have told me there were many obstacles to be overcome there.”

  She shook her head. “How can you now be so cold, so calm? Do you not truly understand? You are of his blood—they have always sworn that he cherished memories of his American family and accepted the Electress only because she was forced on him through duty. He was always a stranger to his family—did he not run away as a boy and become an officer in another army serving in your own country? For one of his line that was so unusual a happening as to be near unbelievable. Surely had he been able to see you—know you—your position here would have been so assured that no one would have dared so much as lose a whisper concerning you. No one would have dared stand against his will!”

  “But they can now,” I pointed out. “Since my reason for coming here is now at an end, do you not think it best I retire quietly to my own home? The new Elector, whoever he must be, surely will not stand ready to welcome an obscure stranger, who, according to the reckoning of your law, represents only the result of an unfortunate scandal?”

  “Rudolf-Ernst? He has not even been seen in Axelburg for twenty years. The Electress would not let him show his face here after he refused her Franizka—the younger daughter, as a wife! No wonder, a more ugly princess never existed—pudding faced and so fond of the table that she near had to turn sidewise to get through a door. She ate herself to death, they say, and one can believe that.

  “Yes, he will be coming fast now. However, he was ever in awe of the Elector, and easily swayed. Also he has no liking for the Princess Adelaide, nor any who give her service.” She paused, pursing her lips. I believe she was thinking furiously.

  “Until the will is made public, dear Amelia, you must make no plans. The Elector was always secretive about his affairs—he had to be with that she-dragon ever at his elbow, her spies as much about him as she could station them. No one knows what he intended to do with his personal fortune, except”—she watched me with searching care—“when he sent for you we could well guess. There is the treasure which was wholly his to dispose of, you know. However, in one thing you are very right, my dear. Perhaps it would be well now to be doubly circumspect, to keep from the eyes of some at court. Yes, it might even be wise to leave Axelburg for the present.”

  I was wary. Though I wanted nothing more than to leave this city, I desired that journey to be on my own terms, and for only one reason—to go home. Hesse-Dohna had no claims on me. However, I doubted that the Gräfin would further any complete withdrawal.

  “The Kesterhof!” She clapped her hands together as if she had solved some difficult problem. “It will be the perfect answer! Only a day's travel from here—and it is most comfortable since the Gräf had the improvements made three years ago. You shall go to the Kesterhof!”

  “What is that?” Feverishly I tried to think of some good reason why I could deny the Gräfin the right to make any decisions for me.

  “A hunting lodge—or it was until the forest was devastated during the wars. The Gräf has had it made into a country house for us. He was in England—bah, what a cold and rain-filled country that is.” She shivered delicately. “There he was much impressed that the English nobles lived at least half the year on their own land and so had more loyalty from their people. As well they should, seeing as how they accepted discomfort such as you would not believe were he to tell you!

  “So he had the Kesterhof made into such a house, smaller, you understand, but it is his pleasure to play the British nobleman there. Yes, you must go to the Kesterhof,” She pinched her lower lip between thumb and forefinger, her eyes darting about the room as if in search of some means to convey me there instantly.

  “We cannot leave also. It would not be right under the circumstances—the Gräf has certain duties. However, for you it will be perfect. There is no one there save the servants, and all of them are entirely loyal to the Gräf. If he orders that no one shall speak of you— that will be so.”

  I did not like the sound of that at all. Yet what objection could I raise? Especially when I had a strong feeling that it was imperative for me now to be out of Axelburg. The Elector had ruled to the moment of his death, but now there were many ready to fish in the troubled waters left by his going.

  Also—were I alone—except for the servants—I might have a chance to lay my own plans, learn what I must do to help myself. It would give me precious time to see what could be done. The Gräfin apparently accepted the idea that I was in perfect agreement with her suggestion, for she rang my chamber bell with even greater vigor.

  “You must be on your way as soon as possible,” she continued. “All the roads into the city will soon be crowded—so many will be coming to witness the lying in state—the arrival of His Highness for the encryptment of his cousin. It would not do for you to attract attention at present. No—that might even be dangerous. ” She looked at me most seriously as she uttered that last warning.

  When Truda arrived my hostess took charge of the preparations for my journey, giving a spate of swift orders so fast I could not see how the maid could separate one from another. She then hastened away, promising to see that I was not only served with a traveler's fortifying breakfast, but that a lun
cheon basket would also be packed, and one of the Gräf's servants sent on ahead to order the Kesterhof made ready for a guest.

  Sure that she had at last left the room, I turned from the braiding of my hair, Truda being well occupied with the packing, to speak.

  “Truda, have you any way of reaching your friend, he who knows Colonel Fenwick?”

  For a moment I was not sure that she had heard me, for she went on smoothing a dress into folds which would leave it the least creased. Then, without looking at me directly, she said in a voice so near a whisper I had to give all my attention to hear at all.

  “Gracious lady, he is of the guard. They will be on full duty—supplying sentries to do honor to His Highness's lying in state.”

  “There is no possible way then for you to reach the Colonel through his help?”

  She gave a last touch to the dress she had put in the trunk—never looking at me.

  “Gracious lady, one might try. But no message could be given openly. Such might have to pass through several hands and some one of those might wish to speak of it elsewhere.”

  Court intrigue again. If their masters vied with each other in such murky employment, how could any servant resist being pulled in? I could well understand the danger of any message of mine, no matter how innocent, being reported to those who might not yet know of my existence but would relish learning of it.

  “I want only one thing, Truda, that the Colonel knows where I am going.”

  He had not sought me out except in obeyance of orders. With his patron dead would my situation mean anything at all to him? I could not allow myself to build on such a thin foundation. Also—with the Elector dead and the hostility the Gräfin had shown freely, would his own position be such as he could or would come to my aid should I have need? Still—somehow I felt that it was only to him that I could turn with any hope. He was the kind of man who, having once given his word, would never break that no matter what obstacles arose. But—how far did his word stretch now to cover my future?