PART II: THE EMPIRE
Chapter Eight: Investigation
"Serenissimo Domino Nostro Iohanni Quarto, Dia Gratia, Angliae, Franciae, Scotiae, Hiberniae, Novae Angliae et Novae Franciae, Rex Imperator, Fidei Defensor . . ."
The boy spoke the Latin terms with practiced ease. His Most Serene Majesty, John IV, By the Grace of God, Ruler of England, France, Scotland, Ireland, New England and New France, Defender of the Faith . . .
John IV was from the oldest ruling family in Europe, in a direct male line from Henry II, the first king to bear the name Plantagenet. It was on this day that the boy and the king would meet, and the ruler whose crest bore the Lions and the Lilies would bestow a hereditary fief on its deserving heir. But at this point, the boy stumbled in his prepared recitation.
"Continue, My Lord Roger," the stern man commanded the seven-year-old boy.
"I do not remember the rest, Teacher," the boy admitted, brushing his long brown hair from his face. He involuntarily went to wipe his moist eyes with his sleeve but was quickly stopped. The teacher, with a suddenly softened look, produced a handkerchief, noticing how dull those normally bright green eyes seemed to be.
Lord Roger stood there, as his teacher knelt in front of him, afraid of the entire world. In the course of one day he had become alone, his father and brother lost to him. The burden of grief and duty was often too much for him to bear, and many a lace collar had been ruined by his tears. Only his teacher, Sir William, was able to distract him from his personal sorrow, but not on this day.
On this, the thirtieth day of September, Ano Domino One Thousand Nine Hundred Seventy Eight, Lord Roger de Somerset, Baron Somerset of Mersey, as his father's sole surviving heir, would be invested as Marquis de London. Everything on this day would remind him of the family he had lost, but he would have to bear the weight of all of this because it was his duty.
Sir William smiled at his student in an effort to help him keep control. "Think only about going through the motions, My Lord. It will be easier. You must be brave today. You must do your family proud."
"This should be Robert's day, not mine."
Sir William inwardly cringed at the mention of the boy's brother. Only a bloodstain on the floor of an abandoned warehouse told of his fate. The days of not knowing and then the confirmation of their worst fears. And all of this forced on a boy barely seven years of age. He hugged the boy, and broke protocol. "Be strong this day, Roger. Remember that Lord Robert watches you from his seat in heaven."
The King's Messenger knocked on the door and Sir William opened it.
"It is time."
"I am ready," Lord Roger of Mersey said, in a tone that briefly reflected that of his father. With suddenly dry eyes, he followed the King's Messenger. He would return to this room as Marquis.
Master Forensic Sorcerer Sean O'Lochlainn lifted his tankard and drank deeply. Across from him, deep in thought sat Lord Darcy, Chief Criminal Investigator to His Highness, the Duke of Normandy.
"You are troubled, Milord," the Sorcerer said as he sat the tankard down. "You have not touched your drink."
"I was thinking about my nephew. He was quite the young lord today."
Sean O'Lochlainn nodded. The Marquis de London was not Lord Darcy's nephew. They were actually second cousins once removed. The term was more a familial reference because of the difference in age.
"My Lord Marquis does need to know he has family. Despite your differences, you were very close to his late father, Milord. Is that why you are troubled?"
Lord Darcy gave a wry smile. "You know me too well, Master Sean. I am troubled because I dared to read the report on the death of the late Marquis, as well as the report on the late Lord Robert Cahill. The Marquis died of natural causes, that is obvious, but there are several inconsistencies in the report concerning his son."
"The fact that they did not find the body, Milord?" As Lord Darcy arched an eyebrow, Sean gave a smile of his own. "I must admit that I did read the reports as well. I was curious how death was determined in the case of the late Lord Robert Cahill. The chirurgen's argument was well thought out. Based on the facts, I would agree with him."
"Would you?" Lord Darcy asked. "I suppose so. The sorcerer, Janos Proust, was also killed. That is beyond doubt, but it makes me wonder. Why, Master Sean, would the murderers make the effort to dispose of the body of the boy, yet do nothing about the man?"
"A lack of time, I suppose. The Armsmen had the building nearly surrounded."
Lord Darcy smiled. "Yes, nearly. And the important figures were able to make their escape. Please understand that I mean no disservice to the Armsmen of Cambridge. Indeed, if the lady in charge of this group is whom I think she is, the Captain of the Guard should be praised for his efforts for nearly catching her."
Master Sean smiled. "If I am correct, she is the same woman that managed to escape from you at one time."
"Do you mean Olga Polovski? There you are mistaken on that point. But this woman was her prize pupil." Lord Darcy smiled at a memory. "But let us return to the argument about removing the boy's body. I ask you again, why bother? If you can not hide both bodies, why remove one? There is an answer here but I do not see it."
Master Sean drank from his tankard as he pondered these thoughts. "It has been a while since I have taken a vacation, Milord."
"Am I that obvious, Master Sorcerer?"
"I know you too well, My Lord. You have that look about you. You will not be satisfied until you have the answers to all of your questions."
Lord Darcy nodded. "I have already resolved to take a leave of absence, to be ready should the new Marquis need any aid. I think I will spend some time looking up old friends." My Lord of Arcy stood up. "Forgive me, Master Sean. I will leave you to happier company."
"Until tomorrow, My Lord."
Lord Bontriomphe currently held the title of saddest man in London. He was Chief Investigator for the late Marquis de London. The only person more sad was a young boy who was gently being woken and addressed by his new title.
He nodded his head to Geffrie, and the butler showed the two guests into the office
"My Lord Darcy. Master Sean. I hope you have found London pleasant."
"My Lord Bontriomphe. I always prefer rich London fog to the pale night stars of Normandy."
Master Sean smiled. "Personally, my Lords, I have always preferred English beer to French wine, not that I would refuse either."
"Diplomatically spoken, Master Sean." Lord Bontriomphe said. "Please be seated. Would either of you like anything to drink? Caffe?"
Geffrie, the butler, entered with cups and a pot of caffe, poured the drinks with efficient ease and left, closing the door behind him.
"To business, then?" Lord Bontriomphe asked. "Surely you did not come to console me."
"I will not take up too much of your time, Bontriomphe," Lord Darcy admitted. "I am trying to resolve a few problems of my own. I was wondering, if this is not too difficult a time, if you would relate the events of the Marquis' death."
Lord Darcy did not need to ask if Lord Bontriomphe could remember the details. The late Marquis' Chief Aide was one of those rare people. Although he had no talent, which was not that unusual, he did have an eidetic memory, a very useful ability for an investigator of capital crimes, especially when matched with the deductive abilities of the late Marquis. Lord Darcy would freely admit that his cousin was the only man who could outshine him in that capacity, a facet that was blooming in his late son.
Lord Bontriomphe closed his eyes, recalling the events in detail. "I was sitting in my office reviewing casework files when an Armsman arrived with a message relayed by a teleson call from Cambridge to the main barracks. The time was ten minutes after nine in the morning. I received the message and noted that it was from Sir Mortimer Sheffield who acts as the King's Captain at Arms for the city of Cambridge. I broke the seal and read the contents of the letter, I will repeat the body of the letter, as there was nothing unusual about the heading or the closing:
We have confirmed that Lord Robert de Somerset, Earl of Cahill, while in conversation with his Professor of History was taken forcibly by agents acting under the pay and influence of the Polish Crown. The Professor was killed during this incident. This matter is being acted upon with most urgent measures. Please direct your inquiries to the Royal Naval Intelligence Office.
"There was also a personal message by Sir Mortimer which stated:
I suspect Lord Robert was taken as a hostage. RTI was involved.
"Of course he meant the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute. I may be getting ahead of myself but at the time of the kidnaping of the late Lord Robert, Polish agents also raided the Institute, and stole several objects of research along with various records."
"That would explain the kidnaping, My Lords," Master Sean said. "While anyone may forcibly take something from the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute, he could not hide it. There are too many protective spells. Once removed from the building without proper procedures taken, the thieves could easily be pointed out by any journeyman sorcerer much less by a master."
Lord Darcy nodded. "They knew they would be found. They took the late Lord Robert Cahill as hostage to forestall their immediate arrests. But that is not our subject here. Lord Bontriomphe, please continue."
Lord Bontriomphe nodded. "There is not much more that is pertinent. I arose from my desk as I dismissed the messenger and proceeded to My Lord, the late Marquis. I knocked and received no answer despite the fact that I knew him to be in. I knocked again. I verified with his secretary, Sir Lionel, that he had not left his office. I then opened the door and looked in. I saw him sitting at his desk. I knew at once that he was dead. I ordered the secretary to summon a Healer with all haste and then I entered the room. I grasped His Lordship's hand and felt no pulse. I examined the room for signs of foul play even though it was clearly not necessary. The Healer arrived within ten minutes of my request and officially pronounced My Lord, the Marquis, dead because of heart failure. The time was twenty-seven minutes after nine. The Chief Chirurgen confirmed the Healer's diagnosis."
Lord Bontriomphe sighed. "As you know, My Lord, Master Sean, the late Marquis had not been in the best of health for some time, although he hid it well from most people."
Lord Darcy nodded. "He loved his wife dearly."
The late Marquis was in love with his wife from the moment he first saw her. She was witty, intelligent and beautiful in his eyes. After she died, the Marquis quickly returned to his duties, but his manner had changed. He became physically lazy, almost reclusive, losing interest of everything outside of his office except for food, and his children. It was his excessive diet that led to his failure of health, and ultimately his demise.
"She died in childbirth if I remember," Master Sean mentioned.
"My Lord Roger's birth," Lord Bontriomphe said, then corrected himself, "My Lord Marquis' birth."
Lord Darcy rose to his feet. "I do not need to trouble you anymore, My Lord. I thank you for giving me your time."
"If I could be of help, Lord Darcy, please do not hesitate to ask. I will not presume to intrude on your work, but I would appreciate it if you would inform me of your results."
"Thank you," Lord Darcy replied sincerely. "My questions are unofficial, but I feel the need to ask them. The Marquis and his son were family."
"I was only thinking, Darcy, of how I would feel if I were in your position. I would want to do the same." Lord Bontriomphe smiled at a thought. "As that is the case, My Lord, you may want to talk to an old friend here in London, in view of the involvement of Naval Intelligence. I believe you remember Captain Smollett. I know that he remembers you. He will be more than happy to open doors for you. As for myself, I have my duties to fulfill and work has always been my best medicine."
Lord Darcy smiled in return. "My Lord Bontriomphe, again we thank you for your time. Master Sean and I will trouble you no longer."
Geffrie came when summoned and escorted Lord Darcy and Master Sean from the building. Lord Darcy looked at his watch to see the time. "It is almost noon, Master Sean. What do you say to a stroll on such a beautiful day?"
"It is raining, My Lord."
"Only a light drizzle," Lord Darcy said with a genuine smile.
"What has happened, My Lord?" Master Sean asked.
"I have no idea," Lord Darcy answered.
"I do not follow, My Lord."
"It is simplicity itself. Something has happened."
"And how do you know this, My Lord."
"Lord Bontriomphe told me."
"When?"
"When he suggested talking to Captain Smollett. Our good friend the Captain is in charge of Naval Intelligence Headquarters here in London. He would be informed of events, but any inquiries I would make should be directed to the Naval Office in Cambridge. While Bontriomphe does not have the skill of the late Marquis, he was able to notice the discrepancies in the report of the late Lord Robert Cahill. I am not on an official investigation, so any requests for information from Cambridge would be refused. I am sure they would be very polite about it, but they would refuse."
"And Captain Smollett will not."
"He may, Master Sean. But he may not."
It was the following afternoon that found Master Sean O'Lochlainn dismounting from a coach behind Lord Darcy outside of the Mercy Hospice of the Angevin Order, on the outskirts of London. The Mercy Hospice was in fact a retreat for members of the Holy Orders who were recovering from various disorders. Characteristically, there was also a Children's Hospital and orphanage attached, as Saint Robert of Anjou was also the Patron Saint of Lost Children. Master Sean noted the irony that the late Lord Robert was named after this very saint.
"Saint Robert, aid us, for we search for one of your own," he whispered, and heard his friend and colleague whisper in return, "Amen."
Lord Darcy knocked on the door to the Hospice and waited for a reply. An older man answered, and bowed when he saw that who was waiting. "May I help you, My Lords?"
"Thank you, Goodman. Lord Darcy is here with Master Sorcerer Sean O'Lochlainn to talk to the Reverend Father Peter Smalling. We were told he had come here to recover from his ordeal."
The goodman nodded. "If you will come in and wait in the courtyard. I will let Father Peter know that you are here. But I should warn you, My Lord, it will not be a long conversation."
"And why is that, Goodman?"
"I regret to inform My Lord that Father Peter could not be completely healed of his injuries. He has lost the power of speech."
The man left them in the courtyard as he went to either bring the priest or bring his apologies.
"He cannot speak, Milord?" Master Sean asked.
Lord Darcy sighed. "As you well know, at first he was thought to be dead and that had been reported in the message to Lord Bontriomphe. I knew he was not cured completely, but this I did not expect."
"My Lords," the goodman called and led a robed and hooded priest into the courtyard. "I have brought you Father Peter."
The priest waved the goodman off and walked up to the two waiting men. He blessed them, then pulled back his hood so that they could see his face. Father Peter was a thin man, slightly taller than Master Sean, with pale skin and gray hair. He wore a patch over one of his eyes but the other was a sharp and vivid blue, catching everything in sight. He also had the remnants of scars on his throat, showing that his larynx had been crushed beyond repair.
Before anything could be said, Father Peter put his right hand over his heart and his left hand out palm down as though to show the height of a boy. He then turned his hand over and motioned to Lord Darcy.
"Yes, Father," Lord Darcy answered. "I did come to see you about Lord Robert Cahill. He was my nephew."
The priest nodded, and did another pantomime. He held one hand over his eyes as though looking for something then shrugged his shoulders as though he had failed to find it. He then struck a pose and raised one hand in front of him with the index finger raised. Finally he moved his hand as though mimicking talking. Both Lord Darcy and Master Sean understood. Father Peter was telling them that he knew the authorities had looked for the late Lord but had not found his body. But his last gesture suggested that he knew where Lord Robert's body could be found, and this was because of comments the attackers had made, probably when they thought the priest unable to hear them.
The priest's final gesture confused them. He reached down and picked up a loose rock about the size of a tuppence and place it in Lord Darcy's hand.
Master Sean stared in surprise. "A rock, Reverend Father?"
The priest grinned and tugged on his ear.
"It is a children's game, Master Sean," Lord Darcy said, grinning in return. "It sounds like . . ." He watched the priest's hand movements. ". . . you are honing a knife?" He received a nod. "Sounds like knife? No, like honing? To hone? A stone?"
The priest smiled.
"Master Sean, this is not a rock, it is a stone."
"I made an honest mistake, My Lord, but I do not understand the difference."
"But I think I do." Lord Darcy turned back to the priest and thanked him heartily for the information. The priest made one last gesture which quixotically said, to Lord Darcy, to give to Lord Robert the priest's blessing.
As they rode back to their hotel, Lord Darcy excused himself. "There is a bookstore I remember on the next street over, Master Sean. I need to purchase an Atlas. I shall meet you in the dining room for dinner."
"May I ask what this is about, Milord?"
"Perhaps nothing, Master Sean, but when I am sure of the thing I will let you know."
On October 3, at the hour of ten, Lord Darcy was ushered into the office of Captain Smollett, Chief of Naval Intelligence.
"My Lord Darcy," Captain Smollett said, "I received your request and I will have you know that I am only seeing you out of courtesy. This is not to be considered an official visit."
"I thank you, Captain. I do understand. I am making personal inquiries on my own behalf, concerning the death of my nephew."
"It was a terrible matter, My Lord, but that is not within the scope of Naval Intelligence."
Lord Darcy smiled. "But the thefts at the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute are within your scope and they do relate directly to the kidnaping of the late Lord Robert Cahill. It is well known in many circles that the Institute does research on behalf of the Navy."
"That is far from secret," Captain Smollett admitted, "although the actual research is kept as secret as possible. I should note that the Institute also does research on its own as well as for other government departments."
"That is also well known," Lord Darcy replied. "I am curious how such an assault on and theft from the Institute was possible."
Captain Smollett returned Lord Darcy's smile. "You might remember the case of Commander Lord Ashley, My Lord."
"As I was in charge of that investigation, I do."
"The incident was a catastrophe for us. While we did uncover the central spy ring of the Poles, we were forced by circumstance to arrest almost everyone involved. The result was that we had no idea what the rest of his Slavonic Majesty' agents were up to. We had no knowledge of who was left of their network. They were able to direct such an operation by isolating themselves. We knew they were up to something but we were unable to fathom what that might be."
"You do not seem too upset."
Captain Smollett shrugged his shoulders. "In intelligence work, such things are a fact of life."
Lord Darcy nodded. "Would it be too much to ask if everything that was stolen was recovered?"
"I will tell you that everything that related to Naval Intelligence was recovered to our satisfaction. For our part, the case is closed. I cannot say any more on the subject, Lord Darcy, and for anyone else I would not have said as little as I did."
"I did read the official reports," Darcy admitted. "And I do thank you for your time."
Captain Smollett paused. "My Lord Darcy, I must ask, officially, that you refrain from making any further inquiries in this matter."
"Captain, I assure you that I only came here for two reasons. To reassure myself that the Navy was not involved in the death of Lord Robert, and to visit an old friend."
Captain Smollett smiled at the latter statement. "Unofficially, I would like to get together with you and Master Sean, before you leave London."
"I will inform Master Sean. I am sure he will be delighted."
"Cambridge, My Lord?" Master Sean asked, when he arrived back at their suite.
"I thought the Marquis would like to talk to some of his late brother's friends," Lord Darcy explained, "and also to visit his Godfather, the Duke. My nephew was, after all is said, the one hit hardest of all by these events." He paused. "And I fear I will need your services when we arrive, Master Sorcerer."
Sean noted Lord Darcy's tone and replied, "In what capacity, My Lord Inspector?"
"I will tell you what I discovered at Naval Intelligence. Everything that was stolen from the Navy was recovered, but Captain Smollett let slip that not everything was recovered."
"I understand. He specifically did not say that EVERYTHING was recovered."
"I reason it this way, Master Sean. The murderers, I will not give them another name, went to the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute for a specific purpose. They wanted something, and stole anything else they could get their hands on solely to cover their actions. They knew they could not escape undetected and had included in their plans the kidnaping of a hostage, and that is what gave me my clue. As you know," Lord Darcy said with emphasis, "the theft took place on the morning of the twenty-second of August at Fifteen minutes before the hour of Seven. The kidnaping of the late Lord Robert Cahill took place at the same time, while he was visiting his school to register for the new semester."
"That is correct according to the records," Master Sean confirmed.
"The criminals could have made their theft in the middle of the night, improving their chances of escape by a preplanned flight, but they deliberately chose to wait until they could kidnap our young Lord. Lord Robert was important to their plan. Do you see?"
Master Sean admitted that he did not, but ventured a guess. "Had the late Marquis remained alive, the late Lord Robert would have made a formidable hostage."
"Perhaps true," Lord Darcy said, "but he was not a hostage. He was the bait. His captors misjudged their escape, and could not flee the city as quickly as they hoped. They were blocked from their path and were forced to hide. They did so with exemplary skill but eventually had to confront the local Armsmen before their plan could come to fruition."
Lord Darcy pointed to the map of Cambridge that he had laid out. "Here is the compound of Kings College, where the University of Cambridge is located, The Royal School of Sorcery, St. Cathel's Academy where the late Lord Robert was a student, and the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute. This is the warehouse district where the miscreants were apprehended. That is where Lord Robert was grievously injured and presumably died."
"I follow you so far, My Lord."
"Continuing on in a straight line from that point would bring one to the estate of the Duke of Cambridge, who is Godfather to both the late Lord Robert Cahill, and his brother, the Marquis de London."
"My Lord," Master Sean said in surprise. "The Duke of Cambridge is the Royal Guardian of the Traveler Stone."
Lord Darcy grinned bitterly. "And that is why I do not accept the assumption that the murderers of Lord Cahill simply disposed of his body, yet left the body of the sorcerer where it was. And that is why we will leave for Cambridge as soon as I have arranged for my nephew to accompany us. We could leave as early as two or three days from now, unless you need more time to make your preparations."
"I will need a few items, but nothing difficult to find, Milord. It will not be a problem. But why do you wish to bring the Marquis with us?"
"For him, because he is fond of his Godfather and it will make him happy. For me, because it is the easiest way to gain access to the Duke's estate. As the Duke of Cambridge and I have only the most distance relationship, I would have no cause or excuse to visit him otherwise."
Duty is always first, and circumstances prevented Lord Darcy from making his planned excursion until the Christmas holidays. Master Sean shared his opinion that the circumstances were most fortuitous. The Marquis de London would not have to spend this most sacred day alone.
Lord Roger de Somerset, Marquis of London, was sleeping in the lounge chair in the study of his Great-uncle, the Duke of Cambridge. The excitement of Christmas had taken its toll on another victim. He would sleep soundly there until one of the servants moved him to his bed. The Duke of Cambridge looked down on the seven-year-old boy and sighed.
"It was wonderful of you to bring him, Lord Darcy. Lord London needed family on this of all days, as did I."
Lord Darcy smiled at the complement, remembering the recent history of the House of Cambridge. It was Lord James Cavanaugh, only son and heir of the Duke, who commanded the HRMS Bristol on that fateful day in '39. His Slavonic Majesty, Sigismund III, had been thwarted in his eastern expansion by the formation of a loose confederation among the Russian states. Constantinople held the South against him, and His Majesty's Fleet, with their Scandinavian allies, bordered him in the west.
Sigismund III massed his fleet in the Baltic and attempted a breakout. Almost every ship was destroyed by His Royal Majesty's Fleet and The Fleet of his Scandinavian Majesty, leaving His Slavonic Majesty was left nothing to show for his efforts. What most people did not realize was that it was a near thing. What the Poles didn't plan on was the men of the Bristol.
The Dreadnaught Bristol was the first ship to make contact. Before any other ship had time to come up, the Bristol had sunk two heavy cruisers and damaged a third. The enemy faltered in line and had no chance to reform before the main fleet came up. No Polish ship that returned to its dock was undamaged.
The miracle of the naval battle was that none of the Anglo-French vessels were sunk, but the Bristol was the worst hit of any of His Royal Majesty's ships. It was afloat but barely, and two thirds of its crew, and its Captain, were lost forever.
"He was a brave man who deserved to live." Lord Darcy said softly.
"And how many lived because of how he died," Lord Cambridge replied, reminding him of what the cost could have been. He looked once more at his grandnephew. "But these are better days. Shall we retire to the library and let the Marquis sleep in peace?"
They left the study in silence, passing a servant carrying a blanket, and walked down the hall. The butler brought in some cups and a pot of caffe, then left the library.
"Tell me, Lord Darcy, why have you come to Cambridge?"
"Am I that obvious, Your Grace?"
"Had you come alone, I would have thought nothing of it. But you are the Chief Investigator of His Highness, the Duke of Normandy. I must suspect something when you show up on my doorstep for the Christmas holidays and bring your Chief Forensic Sorcerer with you. I ask you directly: Does it concern the late Lord Robert de Somerset, Earl of Cahill?"
"It does," Lord Darcy replied. "It also concerns the Traveler Stone."
"I cannot permit you contact with the stone except by Royal writ," His Grace explained. "You are aware of that."
"I do not need to see the stone, Your Grace. Master Sean has assured me that we only need to be near it. Even this room is close enough. There is a simple test I would like him to perform which may tell me if Lord Robert was pronounced dead prematurely."
Lord Cambridge arched an eyebrow. "You claim that my nephew could still be alive. How?"
"It is a possibility, Your Grace, albeit slim. I will also admit that I make that point not only to affect your interest, but because the priest who was with Lord Robert when the kidnaping occurred believes he is still alive. As it is, I have determined that the kidnappers were making their way to your estates when they were thwarted. Considering their point of origin the reason is clear. I also have it on good authority that not everything was recovered from the theft of the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute."
"And what prompted you to make this investigation in the first place?"
"I do not believe the theory on why Lord Robert's body was missing."
"Your news does disturb me, Lord Darcy," the Duke of Cambridge admitted. "It is no secret, in certain circles, that the stone is in my care, nor that the Institute does visit periodically to conduct research. But, By God Above, if there is a chance that my nephew is still alive, however small a chance that may be, I will do everything within my power to find him. What did you wish to do?"
"I suspect that the Institute, having lost one 'item', will make another. I will attempt to prove that the Institute has successfully reproduced the Traveler Stone, and then petition His Majesty's Court to have the case reopened."
