The Song of Seven

  I wonder if Rosemary was sorry about that, Frans thought to himself.

  “But Gilbert’s wife never lived in the House of Stairs,” Miss Rosemary continued. “She died a year after the birth of her son, Geert-Jan, the boy you’re interested in. Poor motherless child, poor Gilbert…”

  Miss Rosemary sighed. “Count Gilbert returned,” she said quietly, “but only so that he could entrust Geert-Jan to my care. Then he went off on his travels again, more restless than ever. I took care of his son – he was such a sweet child.”

  She looked around the room, as if she could see a little boy toddling about. Frans followed her gaze and saw the fragile ornaments on the sideboard: green and white horses, spotted dogs, rainbow-coloured birds and animals he didn’t know the names of. Most of them, though, were damaged and missing ears or legs, and he spotted a few tin soldiers standing among them. Geert-Jan Grisenstein must have had fun here.

  “So you looked after him?” he said. “Then why is he living with his uncle in the House of Stairs now?”

  “His father planned to return one day,” said Miss Rosemary. “The heir of the Grisensteins should live in the house of his ancestors. But Gilbert never came back. He died in a plane crash.”

  They sat in silence for a short while, Miss Rosemary stroking her dog. “It’s more than five years ago now,” she said. “Have another chocolate; this one has a nut in… No, Chive’s not allowed any.” She sat up straight and continued, “A relative, Gradus Grisenstein, became Geert-Jan’s guardian. And, according to the law, it was his decision to make. Gradus Grisenstein took Geert-Jan away from me, and there was nothing I could do about it.”

  She looked at Frans, her fine eyebrows drawn together. “The boy was six at the time,” she said, “and he’d just started school. But Gradus was his guardian and he took him to The Hague.”

  “To The Hague? Not to the House of Stairs?”

  “No, Gradus lived in The Hague, as he thought that was an appropriate place for a count to live. He never liked the House of Stairs, not even as a child. I knew him when I was younger too. He sometimes came to stay with Gilbert, and of course he searched for the treasure with us. But Gilbert never told him what was in the Sealed Parchment…”

  Aha, thought Frans, it’s that Sealed Parchment again.

  Miss Rosemary continued. “I never trusted Gradus. Oh, he took good care of Geert-Jan, with nannies and what have you. But I’d have brought up the boy here for free! I’d even have gone to The Hague for him. But Gradus didn’t want me to. Firstly because he didn’t like me, and secondly because… but I didn’t realize that until later.”

  She stacked the empty cups and stood up.

  “You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you?” she said.

  “It’s very kind of you to offer,” replied Frans. “But I’m afraid I can’t. Aunt Wilhelmina is counting on me to be home on time.”

  “My sister will most certainly be counting on you to eat here with me,” she said. “I’ll give her a call to let her know you’re staying.”

  “Do you have a telephone?” said Frans with some surprise. He hadn’t expected to find such a device in this house.

  “Of course,” said Miss Rosemary. “I simply couldn’t do without one.” She left the room and Frans heard her having a brief telephone conversation in the hallway.

  “Good, now that’s all arranged,” she said when she came back, and she began laying the round table in the corner of the room.

  “But Count Grisenstein – I mean, Count Gradus Grisenstein – lives in the House of Stairs now, doesn’t he?” said Frans.

  “That’s right,” replied Miss Rosemary. “But only since last year. He moved in just before Geert-Jan’s tenth birthday… His tenth birthday!” she repeated. “That makes you think, doesn’t it?”

  But Frans had absolutely no idea what it was supposed to make him think.

  “And of course I immediately paid them a visit,” his hostess continued. “Geert-Jan was pleased to see me, but Count Gradus couldn’t get rid of me quickly enough. And now he refuses even to let me visit. He says I’m a bad influence on his nephew.” She scowled as she added, “Well, I’m not keen on his influence either! From what I’ve seen and heard…”

  “And what is that?” asked Frans.

  “You know very well!” Miss Rosemary’s expression changed, her eyes becoming anxious and concerned. “I sincerely hope you’ll be Geert-Jan’s tutor,” she said in a whisper. “Sometimes I’m scared that…”

  Frans stood up and went to stand beside her. “Scared that what?” he asked quietly. Miss Rosemary straightened the silverware. “Count Gradus does not like children,” she said. “If he goes looking for a treasure, it’s only so that he can become rich, not for the fun of the search itself. But come along,” she continued, “let’s not spoil our appetites with shadows of things that are not yet here and that may never come.”

  Frans noticed now that she had laid the table for three.

  “Yes, I’ve invited another guest,” she said, following his gaze. “But we’ll be able to speak freely, as he’s another member of the conspiracy.”

  “Is it Ivan?” asked Frans, looking at her expectantly.

  “No, Ivan is very attached to his home,” replied Miss Rosemary. “And besides, he doesn’t get along with Chive.”

  “Who is it, then?” asked Frans. “Roberto?”

  Chive gave a quick bark and trotted to the door, which opened. Mr Thomtidom was standing there on the doorstep.

  “No, it’s me,” he said with a bow, “the Secretary of the Conspiracy. Although I prefer to call myself a magician.”

  He hears about the Sealed Parchment

  THIS IS TWO

  The magician stepped into the room and walked towards them. He removed his top hat and pulled a bouquet of red roses from it.

  “Beautiful Rosemary,” he said, “I know that bringing flowers to the Herb Garden is as foolish as taking coals to Newcastle or owls to Athens or water to the sea… but I could think of no better tribute.”

  Miss Rosemary thanked him warmly, and Frans felt sorry for a moment that he hadn’t thought to bring flowers for her too.

  The magician turned to him. “Nice to meet you again, Mr Van der Steg.” He put his hat back on, took it off again – and this time he pulled out a pile of books, which he gave to Frans. “Here you go,” he said, “you left them at my place yesterday, when you departed in such a hurry.”

  “Thank you,” said Frans coldly. “You know, I found your little tricks really quite surprising.”

  “Could you perhaps phrase that a little differently?” said Mr Thomtidom. “How about this, for instance? ‘Mr Thomtidom, your magical gifts are a marvel.’ The way you fled from my house, Mr Van der Steg, made me think you were trying to free yourself from one of my magic circles! But let me reassure you: most magic is about appearance rather than reality, and all magic obeys the laws of logic.”

  “Well, I’ll let you men entertain each other for a moment,” said Miss Rosemary. “And then I can go to the kitchen.”

  “Ah, now she’s going to perform more powerful magic than my own,” said Mr Thomtidom, when Miss Rosemary had left. “The preparation of a delicious, nutritious meal.”

  “But your own magic powers are quite something,” said Frans, still in a chilly tone. “Or was it just an ordinary sleeping pill that knocked me out for four hours yesterday afternoon?”

  “Hmm, that was indeed a strange business,” said Mr Thomtidom. He sat down and added, “I was most surprised when you suddenly drifted off. I tried to shake you awake, but it was no good!”

  “I’m sorry, but I find that hard to believe,” said Frans, sitting down opposite him.

  “You think it was me who sent you to sleep?” exclaimed Mr Thomtidom. “Why on earth would I do that? To secretly snip off a lock of your hair perhaps? Or do you have a better suggestion?”

  “My imagination fails me,” said Frans. “But I’m keen to hear what you’ll tell me. Why d
id you turn back the hands of your clock?”

  “So that you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable,” replied Mr Thomtidom. “I wanted to spare you the embarrassment. It’s rather impolite, you know, to fall asleep when you’re visiting someone, even if the conversation isn’t very interesting.”

  He smiled amiably at the younger man.

  “But the conversation was extremely interesting!” said Frans with a friendliness he didn’t feel. “The story of the Sealed Parchment, for example… I’d have liked to hear more about that.”

  “Really?” said Mr Thomtidom. “Well, they say that Count Gregorius, almost two hundred years ago now, gave his grandson a letter on his tenth birthday, closed with many wax seals. That was the Sealed Parchment, and it contains clues about where the treasure is hidden. Count Gregorius allowed the grandson until his eighteenth birthday to look for the treasure; if he hadn’t found it by then, he would no longer have any right to it. Then he would have to reseal the parchment and keep it until his eldest son was ten. That boy would then be permitted to go in search of the treasure, also until he was eighteen, and then he would pass it on to his eldest son. Because, or so Count Gregorius said, only a child has a right to the treasure. And so the parchment, opened and resealed over and over again, passed from father to son. Only the eldest son of a Grisenstein has ever been allowed to read it…”

  “And where is the parchment now?” asked Frans.

  “If all has gone according to custom and tradition, Geert-Jan must have it,” replied Mr Thomtidom. “Although his father was sadly unable to pass it on to him.” He leant forward to Chive, who had come to stand beside him, and began talking to him in such a quiet mumble that Frans couldn’t make out a word. The dog pricked up his ears and wagged his tail, as if he were listening to a particularly enjoyable story.

  “So you speak the language of dogs, do you?” said Frans sarcastically.

  “Not fluently,” replied the magician, with a modest expression on his face. “The language of cats is more my thing. But luckily dogs are good listeners.”

  They soon sat down at the dinner table, and Miss Rosemary served up the soup, which smelt delicious and tasted even better. Then she brought out dishes of floury potatoes and tender meat in a fragrant gravy, with peas and fresh salad. A separate meal in a deep bowl was put on the floor for Chive.

  Mr Thomtidom said contentedly, “Rosemary, I would fast six days of the week so that I could feast on the seventh with you.” And he added, “Ah, if Geert-Jan could live with you for just a week, he’d be the healthiest boy for miles around.”

  Frans decided it was time to bring up the subject of the Sealed Parchment again.

  “No one knows what it says,” said the magician. “But legend has it that the treasure can be found only with the help of the prophecies in that document.”

  “More prophecies?” said Frans.

  “Yes, the prophecies of Gregorius the Mad,” said Miss Rosemary. “My sister Wilhelmina calls them riddles without an answer. But Jan Thomtidom believes they’re interesting problems with a logical solution. Have some more gravy, Mr Van der Steg.”

  “Well, in any case there’s certainly one problem that can be solved with logical reasoning,” said Mr Thomtidom. He took another bite, waited until his mouth was empty and continued, “And it’s this: why did Count Gradus Grisenstein suddenly go to live in the House of Stairs last year, leaving The Hague, even though he found it much more to his liking there?”

  “So why is that?” asked Frans.

  Mr Thomtidom looked at him as a kind-hearted teacher would look at a particularly slow pupil.

  “Count Gradus is Geert-Jan’s guardian,” he said. “He will manage the Grisenstein properties until the boy comes of age. As the executor of the will, of course, he has also taken possession of the Sealed Parchment, in order to pass it on to his nephew on his tenth birthday, in his father’s place… and without breaking the seals.”

  “But you think he broke them?” asked Frans.

  “It is a certainty that Count Gradus broke the seals and read the parchment before sealing it back up again.”

  “And why did he seal it back up again?” said Frans.

  Mr Thomtidom shook his head at Frans’s lack of understanding. “So Geert-Jan wouldn’t realize his uncle had read the parchment,” he said.

  “So the count has given the document to his nephew!” cried Frans.

  “Of course,” said Mr Thomtidom. “On his tenth birthday, as I already said. That’s why that scoundrel Gradus moved into the House of Stairs: to give Geert-Jan the opportunity to search for the treasure.”

  Frans put down his knife and fork and said, with a mixture of surprise and irritation, “Are you telling me that this scoundrel, as you call him, has gone to live at the House of Stairs to help his nephew find the treasure?”

  “Exactly,” said Mr Thomtidom with a nod.

  “Well, I don’t think your reasoning is very logical at all,” said Frans. “If the count wanted the treasure that much, he’d look for it himself.”

  “Now your reasoning is illogical, Mr Van der Steg,” came the reply. “The boy has to look for the treasure; he has the Sealed Parchment.”

  “If the count is such a rogue and a scoundrel, he would never have given the parchment to his nephew!” said Frans. “Or he must be more of a fool than a scoundrel.”

  “Oh no, Gradus certainly isn’t stupid,” Miss Rosemary said. “But I have to say that Jan Thomtidom’s reasoning does indeed sound illogical to anyone who doesn’t know what’s in the Sealed Parchment.”

  “But no one knows, do they?” said Frans.

  “Have a little more salad,” said Mr Thomtidom. “Then some for me, please. Rosemary, you make the best salads ever – I dare say in the whole world. Don’t you think, Mr Van der Steg?”

  “That’s one thing we agree on,” said Frans. But his mind was elsewhere as he helped himself to more salad. It was only when he passed the bowl to Mr Thomtidom that he noticed he hadn’t left very much for him.

  The magician looked as if he was about to mention it, but Miss Rosemary didn’t give him the chance.

  “No one but a child who was the eldest son of a Grisenstein has ever seen the Sealed Parchment,” she said.

  “Except for Count Gradus,” said Mr Thomtidom.

  “Even though he had no right at all!” He looked disapprovingly at Frans. “The lengths a man will go to for the sake of greed,” he muttered.

  “The boy who has the Sealed Parchment may show it to no one,” continued Miss Rosemary. “But he can, of course, tell someone else what it says… Geert-Jan’s father told me, in utmost secrecy, when we were both ten years old.”

  “So you know what’s in the letter!” whispered Frans.

  “She knew once,” said Mr Thomtidom. “But she may have forgotten…” He looked at Miss Rosemary as if hoping she’d agree.

  Miss Rosemary, however, replied, “I haven’t forgotten, Jan Thomtidom, as you well know! And what’s more, I haven’t kept the secret… as Mr Van der Steg could see from the colour of your shirt.”

  The magician put his hand on his chest as if trying to hide the colour of his shirt – which was green – and said rather stiffly, “My dear Rosemary, I would ask you not to stray into the subject of my research in the field of colour theory. That subject is of no importance at the moment; it is completely irrelevant, and could even seem irrational and unreal to Mr Van der Steg.”

  Frans stared at him. The conversation had taken a turn that was beyond irrational and unreal. It was completely incomprehensible!

  Miss Rosemary laughed brightly. “There’s no need to be afraid, my dear Jan,” she said. “I truly won’t try to interfere with your magic circles. I wouldn’t think of tangling up the ribbons and bows of your visionary plans. But you must see that poor Frans the Red doesn’t understand a thing!”

  “His name,” said Mr Thomtidom, “is still Frans van der Steg. And he must think he’s already stepped into a magic circle or
fallen into a trap. And that’s not fair. I want him to be able to start out upon his mission without any worries, without feeling that he’s surrounded by magic circles.”

  “To be honest,” said Frans, looking from one to the other, “I already feel encircled or entangled or whatever. How am I supposed to start out upon my so-called mission without any worries, as you put it, if I don’t know what conclusions to draw from the circles that you’re drawing… I mean, from this conversation… Hang on. What exactly are we talking about?”

  “The conversation,” said Miss Rosemary, “is about the Sealed Parchment – and that’s all.”

  “A subject that would appear to be rather weighty,” muttered Mr Thomtidom, “and therefore bad for the digestion.”

  Frans looked at his plate, which was piled high with salad, and started eating again. He didn’t know what else to do, and the food was excellent.

  “But we still need to tell him about it, Jan,” said Miss Rosemary. “He knows a lot, but not enough. I still think you should have explained it all to him right away.”

  “I disagree,” said Mr Thomtidom. “Besides, what’s done is done… Or in this case, not done. Whatever he knows or doesn’t know; he’s still an outsider… and that is the point of the whole story.”

  “I am running out of patience!” said Frans, raising his voice. “Would you both please talk as if I’m actually here?”

  “But of course you’re here!” said Miss Rosemary with a friendly smile.

  “And as the guest of honour too,” said Mr Thomtidom. “Empty your plate. A good meal is the best medicine for a person who’s feeling muddle-headed and forgetful.”

  “Then I suggest you’d better empty your plate too, Jan,” Miss Rosemary chided him.

  Mr Thomtidom fell silent and concentrated on his dinner. Frans went on eating too, but he kept glancing at his hostess.

  Miss Rosemary played with her napkin and said thoughtfully, “Gilbert whispered the prophecies of Sealed Parchment in my ear. He recited all the rhymes for me. And I remembered them. I may have forgotten a word or two here or there, but not the essence! It was a secret, but when Gilbert’s son was imprisoned in the House of Stairs, I knew I could reveal it to his friends… To you, Jan Thomtidom, and to all the other conspirators.”