A Brief History of Montmaray (17 page)

‘And what about the gun?’ I cried. ‘Herr Rahn didn’t have it when I saw him.’

Veronica frowned down at the body. ‘Well,
he
doesn’t seem to have it. Do you think Father took it off him? Or Rebecca did?’

I shook my head. All at once, I was too exhausted to think about any of it any more. I just wanted it to be over. I barely even flinched when Veronica hefted the top end of Hans’s poor unwrapped body and I saw the mess of blood and ... other stuff coming out of his middle.

‘On the count of three,’ said Veronica and then we tossed him high out over the ocean. He landed far below us, the splash swallowed up by the crash of the waves. We stood there a moment without speaking. I remembered my dream of Isabella, and thought of George and all the other dead Montmaravians shifting about beneath the waves, reaching up their cold white arms towards Hans and pulling him down to the sea bed.

‘He was trespassing,’ Veronica reminded both of us after a while. ‘We told him not to.’

‘But he didn’t deserve to
die,
’ I sniffed.

‘We didn’t kill him,’ she said. ‘We couldn’t have done anything to save him. The only thing we did was bury him at sea, rather than let his family bury him.’

There wasn’t much else to say after that. We threw the rope over the ledge, but Veronica wanted to take the blanket back and wash it or burn it or something – there was too great a chance it would float.

I don’t remember much of the crawl back up the tunnel. It must have been pitch black, but I honestly don’t remember it. I do recall climbing back into Benedict’s tomb, up the metal rungs, and banging my knee against the lid as we slid it back in place. Veronica took a candle from the chapel altar when we finally reached it and we made our way back to the kitchen, where Rebecca stared at us from the doorway of Uncle John’s room. I could well imagine what a sight we presented. Our elbows were raw, both of us had skinned knees and when I gingerly touched the sore part of my head, my fingers came away stained crimson. But there were more important things to worry about just then than a bit of blood.

‘Where’s Henry?’ I asked.

‘She came in a while ago, said the man had been wandering around on the other side of the Chasm,’ whispered Rebecca hoarsely. ‘Then he seemed to go off towards the village. She went back up to the gatehouse.’

‘We’d better go and get her,’ Veronica said, but I pointed out it would be better if we cleaned ourselves up first. There was the blanket to dispose of, too.

In the end, we left Rebecca cutting the blanket into strips with the scissors, while Veronica and I went up to the bathroom and tried to set ourselves right. I felt like Lady Macbeth, scrubbing and scrubbing at blood stains that could never come out. It was only the knowledge that Henry was waiting for us to reassure her that stopped me from curling up on the floor in a whimpering pile. At this, I thought,
Oh, this is what it must be like to be a grown-up.
Which was not a particularly comforting thought – I would have given anything to return to innocent childhood at that moment. But one glance at Veronica’s grim countenance as she pulled a comb through her hair made me realise that the less of the burden I shouldered, the more she would have to bear – and she didn’t look as though she could carry much more.

After that, we fetched Henry and assured her the castle was safe, snuck out to hide the blood-stained strips of blanket under a pile of straw in the henhouse until we could think of a better way of disposing of them, checked that Uncle John was still asleep, put Henry back in bed a second time, and tried to fall asleep ourselves. I didn’t try very hard. I was afraid I’d see Isabella drifting towards me, staring at me with her dead, knowing eyes, tangling me up in her shroud, trying to tug me down to the depths of the sea where the dead German lay.

So I sat up instead and wrote all this, and now the horizon is a thin band of silver where the sun is pushing its way through the black cloud. Soon I will get up and hide my journal in its secret cranny, and then I will have to face whatever horrors the new day brings.

I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO WRITE anything for two days – I’ve been too afraid to sneak this book out of its hiding place – but now the German soldiers have left. As with my last entry, I’m sticking to Kernetin in case this book falls into the wrong hands. It makes writing rather slow going – however, I’m determined to set down as detailed a record as I possibly can.

Well, the day before yesterday – that was awful. Herr Rahn returned to the castle early in the morning and loitered apologetically under the gatehouse until Henry came out to feed the hens. His colleague appeared to be missing, he explained. It was possible Herr Brandt had gone for a walk near the castle. Had we seen him?

Veronica did all the talking, to my relief. No, she said, she had not seen anyone walking around here. But she hoped Herr Rahn’s colleague had taken heed of her warning about approaching the castle – the mist could descend unexpectedly and the cliffs were slippery, steep and terribly dangerous, even for those of us familiar with them. But perhaps Herr Brandt had taken their boat out?

‘No, no,’ said Herr Rahn, his forehead corrugated with worry.

‘We could have a search party,’ Henry offered brightly. ‘We could take Carlos. He’s good at sniffing things out.’

I felt the blood drain from my face. Veronica managed to conceal her anxiety about this suggestion far better than I did (although, I realised later, the only evidence was hidden in the henhouse, with enough competing smells to confound even Carlos). Fortunately Herr Rahn misinterpreted my expression and hastened to reassure me.

‘No, no, I am certain Herr Brandt is all right, only–’

‘I think we should look around the rest of the island first, before worrying about the cliffs,’ said Veronica firmly. ‘I expect he’s sprained his ankle or something, and settled down to wait for help. We’ll meet you at the village in an hour to help you look.’

Herr Rahn was so effusive in his gratitude that I felt quite miserable. It made it worse, somehow, that the dead man now had a complete name. I could just picture a Frau Brandt in a dirndl and cross-stitched apron, fretting about her faraway son.

‘If he
did
go wandering round the cliffs,’ said Henry thoughtfully, leading the way back to the kitchen after Herr Rahn had departed, ‘he’d be dead now. He was so heavy and fl at-footed, did you see him walking? And if he fell in the water – well, he doesn’t look like the sort who knows anything about currents or swimming, not the way he brought their boat in to the wharf that day. He’d be drowned in a minute.’

‘Don’t,’ I said shortly. I’d had only a few hours sleep and was in no mood to listen to Henry’s morbid ramblings. But the news was equally bad inside – it seemed Uncle John hadn’t woken at dawn, as he normally did, and was ‘laying funny’.

‘He’s breathing, isn’t he?’ snapped Veronica when Rebecca came to report this.

‘He needs the doctor!’ shouted Rebecca. ‘He’s not right!’

‘How can she tell?’ wondered Henry aloud from the doorway. And when I joined her, I had to admit he looked pretty much the same as always, lying on his side, refusing to make eye contact or say a word. The only departure from his usual behaviour was that he hadn’t yet seized a nearby object and hurled it in our direction.

‘Sit back down and eat your breakfast, both of you,’ ordered Veronica, although I noticed she managed to swallow even less than me. Rebecca went up to the gatehouse to raise the doctor’s flag and the rest of us walked down to the village to take part in Herr Rahn’s pointless search. We investigated the coves, took him up to the viewing point near the memorial cross, and trained his binoculars on all the possible places Herr Brandt might have gone exploring. Herr Rahn explained that he had already radioed his colleagues on his ship for help, but they would not be able to reach the island for a day or two.

‘They don’t have a doctor on board, do they?’ asked Henry innocently. ‘Because our uncle’s been taken ill. We’ve just put up the doctor’s signal flag for him.’

‘Your ... uncle?’ said Herr Rahn, looking confused.

‘I’m sure he’ll be all right after some bed rest,’ said Veronica hastily. She must have been imagining how Uncle John would react if a German doctor marched into his room. I certainly was. Just then, I had a horrible thought. Where was Benedict? Had Rebecca had the sense to clean the blood off it and put it back over the chimneypiece?

‘I did not know your uncle is living in the castle,’ Herr Rahn was saying.

‘He’s quite old,’ said Henry. ‘And a bit mad.’

‘Henry!’ I said loudly. ‘Go and show Herr Rahn around the Great Pool. There might be footsteps in the mud if Herr Brandt slipped in. Veronica and I will search the bushes at the edge of the Green.’

‘But–’ said Henry.

‘Please do as you’re told,’ I said, fixing her with a glare, and she was astonished enough by this to obey at once. The moment they were out of earshot, I grabbed Veronica’s arm and asked if she knew what had happened to Benedict. Her eyes widened.

‘I told Rebecca to keep it out of sight,’ she said. ‘She took it into his room and I hoped she’d ... but I didn’t check. And I forgot all about it this morning. One of us had better go back and make certain.’

‘And get rid of that blanket,’ I said.

We looked at each other despairingly.

‘I’ll go,’ I said. Veronica was better at talking to Herr Rahn than I was. I was terrified that at any moment I would blurt out the awful truth.

I hurried back to the castle and was thankful I had. It turned out Rebecca had wiped Benedict clean on a rag, then shoved sword and rag under Uncle John’s bed. It was fortunate Uncle John wasn’t his usual self – I was able to slip into his room and retrieve both items without too much difficulty. Rebecca was no help. She hadn’t even done the breakfast dishes. Fuming at her uselessness, I poked the rag inside Vulcan, gave the sword a hasty polish, retrieved the scabbard that had been flung under the piano, and hung both sword and scabbard over the chimneypiece in the Great Hall, cursing Rebecca all the while for making us keep the horrid thing sharpened all these years.

Then I ran back outside to the henhouse to collect the strips of blanket we’d hidden in the straw. I thought of throwing them into the Chasm but, as Veronica had pointed out, it was all too possible they’d wash up in the firewood cave. Instead – gagging at the stench of stale blood and bird droppings – I buried them in the kitchen garden beside the carrots. I had just enough time to wash my hands and brush some of the mud off my clothes before the others came down over the hill and across the drawbridge.

‘We’re just going to walk along the curtain wall, see if we can spot anything,’ said Veronica.

Poor Herr Rahn was quietly frantic by that stage. ‘I am very much afraid that ... I said to him not to go near the cliffs but ... surely he must be found by now if...’

Veronica and Henry led him up the ladder, while I stayed below with Carlos. Their heads emerged a minute later above the parados and Herr Rahn sent me down a feeble smile. I had had enough at that; I hurried inside and shut myself in the upstairs bathroom for a good hard cry. Then I fell asleep on the bath mat. Veronica discovered me there half an hour later.

‘Well, he’s gone back to the village,’ she said. ‘I managed to talk him out of searching the castle, told him it was impossible anyone could get in without us noticing, but that we’d have a look anyway. His colleagues will be here tomorrow or the day after.’ She sighed. ‘The important thing is to keep Henry away from them.’

I blinked at her, feeling heavy-eyed and stupid. ‘What about Uncle John?’ I asked.

She sat down on the edge of the bath beside me. ‘We’ll just have to keep them away from him. I’ve no idea how. I’m certain they’ll want to question him, he’s the one supposed to be in charge here.’

‘We’ll just say he’s ill,’ I said. ‘He
is
ill, isn’t he? If he stays quiet the way he’s been today, it should be all right.’

‘What’s the chance of that happening?’ said Veronica bitterly. ‘You know he’ll throw a fit when he sees men in uniform, let alone hears them speaking German.’

‘Well, Rebecca will just have to keep him quiet,’ I said. ‘It’s not as though she’s doing anything else useful at the moment.’

Then there wasn’t much else to do but wait for the ship with the blue swastika to reappear, which it did today at noon. A motor boat much like Herr Rahn’s was soon launched off the side, but Henry, telescope glued to her eye, reported that this time there were four men aboard. ‘Maybe five,’ she added, as the boat neared the shore.

‘Ought we to go down and meet them?’ I asked Veronica in a low voice, drawing her away from Henry. ‘It might seem more welcoming.’

‘But we aren’t welcoming them,’ she said. ‘We don’t want them anywhere near here. They shouldn’t have been here in the first place.’

‘Still, if we’re friendly, they might be more sympathetic when we say we don’t want Uncle John questioned.’

Henry’s shout interrupted our discussion. ‘They’ve docked! Ooh, that motor’s fast. Don’t you wish we had a motor like that?’

‘Are they wearing uniforms?’ Veronica asked.

‘Brown, with big black boots. No, one of them’s wearing all black. Now Herr Rahn’s talking with them. He’s sticking his arm straight out and the others are sticking theirs out too, like in that newspaper picture of Hitler.’ Veronica and I exchanged anxious looks. ‘Now they’re unloading things ... they’re going into Alice’s house, no, one of them’s gone behind a rock and he’s undoing his trousers...’

‘Yes, thank you Henry, that’s enough,’ said Veronica, taking the telescope off her. ‘No, Sophie, we’ll wait for them to approach us.’ She sighed. ‘Pity we can’t raise the drawbridge any more.’

‘Pity I haven’t got the cannon working yet,’ said Henry. ‘But I’ve got my catapult all ready.’

I then explained to Henry that this was a moment for diplomacy rather than battle.

‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Veronica just said they were trespassing.’

‘Why were you eavesdropping on my private conversation with Sophie?’ said Veronica.

‘It wasn’t private, you were standing right next to me! What was I supposed to do, pretend my ears had fallen off?’

‘Anyway,’ I interrupted, ‘the point is that there are six of them and–’

‘Six of us,’ said Henry.

‘Six men, six
armed
men,’ I said.

‘As opposed to three girls, a feeble old man, his useless housekeeper and a dog,’ said Veronica.

‘Don’t call me a
girl,
’ scowled Henry. ‘And I bet Carlos is a better fighter than any of them.’

‘We are not fighting anyone,’ I said firmly. ‘We are going to help their search as much as we can and ask that they leave Uncle John alone. You know he isn’t well and that sometimes he can be a bit–’

‘Mad,’ said Henry, nodding.

‘And so we’ll ask them – nicely – to stay away from the castle.’

‘Tell
them,’ said Veronica.

‘Tell them
nicely,
’ I said.

An hour later, I looked out from my post on the roof to see the men come marching – well, not exactly
marching,
but certainly not strolling – towards the drawbridge. We ran downstairs and hurriedly arranged ourselves in the kitchen. Veronica seated herself at the head of the table facing the open door, her hands folded in front of her, her head straight and still, looking as though a heavy golden crown were balanced on top of it. Carlos stood at attention on her right, trembling with alertness. Henry and I placed ourselves on her left, my hand on Henry’s shoulder part reassurance and part restraint. Rebecca had already locked herself in the bedroom with Uncle John. We waited silently, the very air tense.

At last came the knock on the doorframe.

‘Come in,’ said Veronica sharply.

All at once, the room darkened as half a dozen men crowded through the doorway. Herr Rahn managed to push his way through to the front.

‘Your Highnesses, may I present SS-Obergruppenführer Gebhardt,’ said Herr Rahn. A tall man with white hair and eyes the colour of ice gave a perfunctory bow. ‘SS-Obergruppenführer Gebhardt – Her Royal Highness Princess Veronica of Montmaray. Her Royal Highness Princess Sophia. And Her Royal Highness Princess Henrietta.’

We each nodded, even Henry, who had frowned at the sound of her full name.

‘Your Highnesses,’ said the tall man, in a voice as cold as his eyes. His English was impeccable. He was clearly very important – his posture alone managed to indicate he outranked every other German in the room. ‘As you know, one of our men is missing. We have not found any sign of him on the island. We request permission to search this ... this castle.’ He glanced around the kitchen, at the broken window pane and shabby dishcloth, and I knew I wasn’t imagining the disdain in his expression.

Then Veronica stood up, her invisible crown seemingly welded in place, and all of a sudden, the German officer looked much shorter. ‘As
you
know,’ she said, ‘we have helped Herr Rahn search all the possible places on this island a man could become lost. You are welcome to search the henhouse, the woodshed, the gatehouse, even the cucumber frames if you wish, but we have already searched the house and I think it highly unlikely that–’