The Mystic Marriage (59 page)

“You have heard that Aukustin has not been well.”

Margerit frowned. “I heard something of that, but nobody gave it much credence. Princess Elisebet is always concerned over something.”

“It seems this was more serious,” Annek continued. “Aukustin has been ill since before the New Year’s court. Badly ill. Doctors have been no avail. Princess Elisebet consulted a thaumaturgist but evidently the man was perplexed, until he thought to examine Aukustin’s chambers. Whatever he saw there, he had them take the bed apart. And hidden in the mattresses were a number of curious stones.”

At that word, Margerit felt a shiver. “Many people use amulets and talismans. Could they have been meant for his protection?”

Annek shook her head. “I know only a little of the matter, and that only through my spies. But the thaumaturgist said at least some of the stones were clearly of ill intent. And now I expect that Elisebet is recalling that my son has been hard at work all this autumn creating powerful talismanic gems. She’s ever eager to blame him for any accident that befalls Aukustin, and that affair with the ships was ill-timed. But it seems to me that were Elisebet’s prejudice set aside, it would be more natural for suspicion for this particular affair to fall on my new alchemist. So I ask you again, do you know of any reason why Antuniet Chazillen would seek to do harm to Aukustin?”

“No!” Margerit’s emphatic answer came from her heart, not her head. Did Annek think to turn suspicion away from Efriturik by offering Antuniet in his place? “I can’t imagine any reason why she would have an interest in him at all.”

“Very well,” Annek said, though she seemed far from convinced. “But you can see why I might have need of a means for establishing the truth beyond any doubt. Whether my son or my alchemist, someone will come to be blamed in time. I don’t know if it will be a matter for the courts…There’s nothing yet of accusation, only rumor. Before that changes, see what you can do. And keep this matter as quiet as may be.” But as Margerit was departing, she added, “You have leave to tell Baroness Saveze. Tell her I’d like to see her keen edge brought to bear on it.”

It would have been exhilarating to be set onto a new type of mystery, if not for the cloud of peril hanging over it. Barbara received the news with a frown of concern, but when she heard the message from Princess Annek, a fierce interest leapt in her eyes.

“What does she mean by that?” Margerit asked.

Barbara grinned. “It means she’s unleashed me to look for the true villain.”

“Do you think that this is Kreiser again, meddling in Efriturik’s affairs?” The thought was new, sparked by Barbara’s words.

“Perhaps, but it’s hard to see how it could benefit him, unless his goal is simply to bring down both Alpennian heirs at once. Either the stones were meant to be found and the plot is aimed at Efriturik, or they were meant to stay hidden and Chustin was the target. But could the one who put them there know which it would be?”

Yes, it was exciting to have a new challenge. Too exciting, should she be unsuccessful.

Serafina took the news of the change in focus for their studies with curiosity. “But that’s what it means to be a royal thaumaturgist,” Margerit explained, leaving the details silent. “I’m set to odd little projects all the time.” To deflect her curiosity, Margerit told her of the installment ceremony for Baron Razik.

“I’ve heard of mysteries used for determining guilt,” Serafina said, “but I never studied them before. I think Kant considers the problem, but he seems to think that truth means such different things in philosophy and in the courts of law that there is no point in pursuing them by the same means. I do recall that he dismisses the possibility that a
veriloquium
could be used to answer philosophical questions. They answer only what is understood in the mind of the one questioned.”

“Kant,” Barbara said, noting down the name. “Margerit, you’re more familiar with the modern philosophers. What do we have of his?” She crossed to the shelves and searched until she pulled out a thick black-bound volume. “
Judgment
?” she asked.

Serafina shook her head. “No, I think it was his
Reason
, but he won’t have any practical advice on mysteries. He was a Lutheran you know.”

“Who else?” Margerit asked. “Barbara, when you studied law, did it cover this topic?”

Barbara paused her pen. “There’s a long section in the
Statuta Antiqua
that discusses the circumstances of their use, but not the rituals themselves. I remember there was that brief section in
Fortunatus
, but only from a theoretical point of view and nothing at all as detailed as you’d find today. I rather suspect the topic is too…I suppose I would say too practical for him. I’ll read through the
Statuta
to see if they mention any names or cases and perhaps LeFevre would have ideas. It wouldn’t fall at all within his legal interests but he likes to read through records of old cases and may remember mentions of times when
veriloquia
were used.”

“And what about Prince Filip?” Margerit asked with a sudden thought. The other two stared at her. “I remember from my history books. There was that scandal over his cousin’s parentage during his reign and I think they used some type of
mysterium veridicum
to sort it out. I don’t think the chronicles mention any details beyond that, but the archives—”

Barbara nodded sharply. “Yes, that should fall within the records that still survive. I don’t know whether those years would be in the palace archives or held at the cathedral but—” A slow smile crept across her face. “I think perhaps I shall set Brandel on it. He needs to be reminded that adventure can be found in books other than romances.”

It was the old excitement again. That sense of a small band hunting down the secrets of the ages. Urgency gave it an uncomfortable edge. Margerit knew she could be as discreet as the grave and the story would still find its way out through others. Annek might have good cause to keep the matter quiet while it was resolved and Elisebet’s people were strangely silent as well, but too many people would know some small fragment, people who had no such qualms.

Whispers soon grew into rumors that sorcery had a hand in Aukustin’s malady. Margerit found it easy to laugh off the gossip the first time it came to her in the corridors of the opera house. Everyone knew how Elisebet jumped at shadows where her son was concerned. It was harder to dismiss the strained looks on the faces of Elisebet’s ladies when they were seen about town. And yet no names were named, no accusations made. Perhaps even Elisebet realized there would be no turning back once that was done. Proof would be needed, proof of a sort that could stand under law.

Sorcery, the rumors said; nothing more specific. But sorcery was a slippery charge, more often used from malice than conviction. Margerit watched Antuniet carefully as
l’affaire Augustin
was discussed before her, but she gave no sign that she considered it anything to do with her.

By the end of a week, their research had outgrown the library tables. Margerit briefly considered commanding an office at the palace for the work, but that seemed too public. Here there was no close scrutiny from outsiders.

“Aunt Bertrut?” she began one morning. “I’m going to need to take over one of the other rooms. I need more space for our books and papers. I thought perhaps the dining room? Or perhaps the front parlor? I could bring in some trestles but then you’d need to entertain visitors somewhere else and I’d hate to ask you to use the upstairs sitting room.”

“It’s your house, dear,” Bertrut replied mildly. “How long do you think it will take?”

“I don’t know,” Margerit said with a frown. “Perhaps a week? Maybe two?”

“We have the Faikrimeks invited for dinner on Wednesday.”

“Then it must be the parlor, I’m afraid. Do you mind dreadfully? I wish I had some proper place to do my work. What I want is a home the size of Fonten House but here in Rotenek!”

Aunt Bertrut took her at her word. “You could take a house out past the north gate, I suppose. There are always estates on offer there. But everyone would stare if you gave up a place on the Vezenaf to move to the edge of town! We’ll rub along the best we can for now.”

Barbara had obtained the
expositula
for the truth-mysteries used in the Rotenek courts and together they picked them to pieces, teasing out the formulas and structures that lay beneath. Serafina was mostly silent the first few days, taking the notes from their discussions and listening intently.

“Did you have any thoughts?” Margerit asked, after watching her puzzle through the diagrams.

“More questions than thoughts,” she admitted. “I’d rather watch you work. I want to see how you go about developing the ceremonies. I want to see the paths you follow in your analysis and how you map them. When I read the notes you’d taken on the Mauriz
tutela
it was like nothing I’d seen before, and I’ve reviewed a great many treatises on the structure of mysteries at the Vatican.”

Margerit wished she could invite Antuniet into their circle but suspicion cast a shadow over everything. Better to keep the matter close for now.

By the sixth day they had begun building the parts together again. Brandel had contributed his mite, though the chronicles he had tracked down only confirmed that once, years ago, someone had built a
veriloquium
whose judgment was visible to all.

When she had real hope of success, though not finished in the details, Margerit brought her report to the palace.

Annek listened closely and cast a quick eye over the outlines of the ceremony. “And this…this
lux veritatis
will work as you say?” she asked. “The answering judgment will be apparent to all present?”

“It should be,” Margerit said. “Baroness Saveze could see it plainly in the changes to the quality of the light and she has no special sensitivity at all. I thought it best to use the flame as a signal, as it fits best with the language of scripture. The only concern is with how the saints interpret the question of truth.”

“
Quid est veritas?
What is truth? Isn’t that what Pilate asked Our Lord? Even the saints have been known to bend the truth in service to greater truth. But I think if the need comes, we can set questions that can be answered clearly.”

“Will we need it at all?” Margerit ventured to ask. “I’ve heard that Aukustin is nearly recovered.”

Annek’s lips thinned as if she would not answer. But then she said, “I don’t know. My cousin seems unlikely to let this pass. Eventually Efriturik will need to return to Rotenek. Then we shall see.”

Has he been kept away deliberately?
Margerit wondered. But that might make sense. If Elisebet planned to make an accusation, she would need to wait for his return to lay the charge officially. Would she dare? Even as she asked herself the question, Margerit knew the answer. Elisebet had been slipping further from sense where Aukustin was concerned. If she truly believed that Efriturik had meant to harm the boy, she would have no qualms about accusing him, even though it tore the land apart.

Barbara, she knew, would have her own news to take to the palace. In moments between their study sessions, she’d been busy about the town with her own sources of information: the boy’s tutor, Jeanne’s friends among Elisebet’s ladies. But none had been forthcoming with more than expressions of vague concern. The dowager princess’s household had closed ranks waiting for her to act.

“There’s little I can do on that question,” Barbara told her in a private moment, “unless I know the nature of the amulets. And the date when Aukustin’s malady first started. Now there’s a problem! How do I tease out the real illness from Elisebet’s fancies? I can’t go to Elisebet herself unless the matter becomes public. I’ve been half expecting her to send for me as she has in the past.”

As Margerit worked to put the final touches on the
veriloquium
, Barbara cast her net wider. “I’m not saying I’ve written Kreiser out of the question entirely,” she said. “But Elisebet has been right in one thing: there have been some very strange accidents around Aukustin for more than a year. Every time—the true accidents, not the ones Elisebet imagined—he should have been safe among friends and members of the court. At least one of the hands behind this is someone close.” She was pacing back and forth as she spoke. “That’s why Kreiser doesn’t fit this time. The first incident I know was at that hunt a year ago at Feniz. Kreiser would have been newly arrived then. No time to get a man in place within Elisebet’s household.”

“Unless there was one already,” Margerit suggested. “Would the ambassador have planted men within the court?”

Barbara paused to consider the question. “Undoubtedly. I can’t rule that out. But I don’t think—” She hesitated. “I don’t think Kreiser works so closely with him. The ambassador has been in Rotenek for ten years. Kreiser has the feel of a new man, a hungry man. He came here on Antuniet’s track for a specific purpose, though he seems to have stayed on other orders. He’s looking to make his mark in some way. But the one he wants to impress is the Emperor Franz, not some minor diplomat in Alpennia. And he—” Barbara frowned in concentration. “I can’t explain. That last time we met him at the New Year’s court, it was like crossing blades at the fencing
salle
. You learn things about a man that way—things he doesn’t mean to tell you. This doesn’t
feel
like his work.”

Barbara’s eyes went far away in thought once more. But if those thoughts produced any concrete plan, she was not yet ready to share it.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Jeanne

Jeanne hesitated in front of Tio’s door before raising her hand to the knocker. If it were only that Tio had grown stiff and silent in public, the tension in Princess Elisebet’s household would be explanation enough. That, too, could explain Tio’s absence from their usual haunts. But it had become clear the night before at Maisetra Pertrez’s affair that Tio was very specifically not speaking to
her
. What other explanation could there possibly be for Tio’s sudden interest in Chara’s new carriage when she approached? Everyone was all secrets and silences these days but from her it was too much to leave unanswered. If they were no longer to be friends, Tio would need to say so in her presence. Jeanne rapped sharply upon the door.