Chapter Forty Three: Christmas in Constantinople
The Gypsy pulled Harry close to her so that he could see her clearly. "Our time together is almost done, nephew. And now I must embarrass you."
Harry looked at the woman warily. "In what way?"
"The chief of this caravan is going to sell you to another trader, one who has papers to cross the border into Roumeleia." Her grin increased. "He is going to sell you as a bride. It will be a public sale."
Harry almost laughed at the thought but he did as he was told. The Gypsy had never lied to him, and she told him that this was the safest path to travel. With her help, he was covered with the traditional head to toe garment of the most conservative Turkic groups, including a veil that covered all of his face.
The simple plan worked. The sale was made, although he would have to ask exactly how good a price was three camels. He rode in a cart for a day and a half and reached the border near dusk. A glance from the border guard, and the sound of a few coins changing hands told Harry that the ruse was successful.
Harry was dozing in the chair next to the small bed when she came in. He was still dressed in women's robes when he felt the veil being lifted. Someone was speaking Polish. Harry corrected himself, BurgDeutsch. The German of Brandenburg. There was an actual Polish language but that was only spoken by peasants.
"Good morning to you, child. Permit me to introduce myself. I am Countess Olga Polovski. I am the one who will take you through the most dangerous part of your journey. I want you to keep your eyes open. Do not try to blink."
Harry sat there in surprise. Only his eyes were revealed as the robes he wore still covered his head as well as his mouth and nose. He saw a finger approach his eye and noticed something on the end of it. He grinned when he recognized it. A contact lens. It was put in his right eye and he was permitted to blink. The process was repeated for his left eye and suddenly the world came into focus for the first time since the summer. Once again, an angel was staring at him, but this time because she was beautiful.
The woman looked into his eyes. "How do you see? Excellent? Good. Now you must remember this. You are my nephew. You do understand about being someone's nephew?" She held up a hand mirror and let Harry see his eyes. The lenses had been tinted and his eyes now appeared brown. "Again, Good. You are my brother's son, Sigismund Polovski, named after the father of our beloved monarch, Casimir IX. If you forget this, you will be dead."
She stepped away from him and Harry saw another person in the room. A boy his age and size, dressed impeccably in the latest court fashion from Krakow. Like Harry, he had long black hair and he also had brown eyes, but that was where the similarities ended. He had a thinner face with almost a soft look to it, and an overly friendly smile.
Olga Polovski stood up. "Sigismund, I will leave while the two of you change clothes. You must become my nephew. This one will take your place as the child bride."
Once the door closed, the boy turned his smile on Harry. "Undress quickly. We do not have much time." He undid his cloak and tossed it on the bed. Harry stood up and began to remove the robes when the boy tossed his jacket on the bed as well. Then Harry stopped in his tracks when the boy unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open. Underneath his shirt, he had . . . breasts.
"You may look all you want but you must undress. We must change clothes quickly."
Harry nodded in embarrassment and turned around. This was not what he expected but it was a logical thing to happen. He controlled his thoughts and tried to be as professional as possible. He removed the last of the garments he was wearing and placed them on the chair for the girl to take. He picked up his new undergarments when a hand touched his arm. He turned out of reflex and saw the girl standing there, wearing only a smile.
"Perhaps we do not have to hurry after all."
Harry could only nod. She was beautiful. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And it was obvious that she liked him. She wanted to be with him. And as they leaned into each other to kiss he thought that this moment was like magic.
He stopped. It WAS like magic. It was Sorcery.
Her hand was on his neck pulling him into the kiss when his mind rebelled. With a great effort, more mental than physical he pulled himself away. "NO," he growled in an angry voice, and forcefully shoved the girl away from him.
The girl stared at him briefly in surprise. "I was warned that you had some talent. But it was worth a try." Without either shame or pride, she picked up her clothes from the chair. "A pity. You would have enjoyed yourself."
"Every pleasure has its price," Harry growled back. "I think the cost would have been too much for me."
The girl shrugged her shoulders, gave him a whimsical smile and walked out of the room.
Countess Polovski smirked as she saw Harry's face. "She was only practicing her skills, Sigismund. I warned her it would not work on you, but I was curious how you would react."
"I do not like being used."
"Tell me the truth, Dear Sigismund. Let us pretend that she did not cast a lover's illusion on you. Let us pretend that she simply made the suggestion. What would you have done?"
The Countess did not laugh when Harry started to answer then blushed instead.
"Remember this, my nephew. More men have been betrayed in the bedroom than on the battlefield. That is why women make the best spies. How do you think the woman who rescued you managed to gain access to the prison? Was it because she showed her bravery or because she showed her willingness? Do you understand this lesson?"
Harry nodded, but let his anger show.
"YOU ARE A FOOLISH CHILD," Polovski said, showing her own anger. "I did not tell you this to make you feel small or used. I told you this so you could steel yourself. You are my nephew. You are the nephew of the chief recruiting officer of the SERKA. And you are in the country of an enemy. What is the most likely method that the enemy might try to use to subvert a fourteen-year-old agent in training of the Slavonic Secret Police? Perhaps bribery? Perhaps threats against his life? Perhaps being caught in a compromising position with the daughter of a prominent, though sufficiently minor, nobleman? Which one would be the most successful against you, Count Sigismund Polovski?"
"The last," Harry admitted, the anger gone. "I assume you told that girl to, um, do that?"
"You are a bright boy." The woman smirked. "I wonder what you would have told her if she had followed my advice. I told her that if she led, you would follow." She clapped her hands. "But that is now the past and your lesson has been learned. We shall return to our hotel, then proceed to Jerusalem tomorrow. From there we will take the train to Constantinople, hopefully without notice. With luck, Christmas will have us in the homeland."
As discreetly as she tried to be, Countess Polovski found an invitation waiting for her when she arrived at the Embassy in Constantinople. It was announced to the staff as an unofficial visit, which made this an unusual occurrence. But she smiled to herself when she read the letter enclosed.
"Sigismund," she called. "Attend me, nephew."
"As always, Aunt," Harry said politely.
"We will celebrate the holiest day of the year in the most magnificent way." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And we will hope that the spy who revealed our presence works in the Embassy and not with our southern friends."
Harry nodded, then gave a grunt of surprise when he was shown the letter. He was included. That is to say Count Sigismund Polovski was included in the invitation. The first part of the invitation was to attend the Emperor's Christmas Mass at noon in the Hagia Sofia, the largest and oldest church in the world. Then, after a short interval, they were to attend the Christmas Gathering, the Emperor's Dinner Party. It was an invitation that could not be refused.
"May I ask, My Dear Aunt, why I have been included?"
"Remember your lesson?" the Countess asked. "I suspect you will be tested to see how well you have learned. Remember, Dear One, say what you will as long as you say nothing."
His Most Christian Majesty Kyril XXV, dressed in formal white robes with the Imperial Purple border, greeted the two people presented to him in line. When his sources told him that this woman was in Constantinople, and trying to remain quiet about it, he insisted that she and her nephew be added to the guest list. It was always best to have such a woman out in the open, where she could be watched very carefully.
"Countess Olga Polovski, and her nephew, Count Sigismund Polovski," the servant announced.
His Majesty smiled as the Countess curtsied, and her nephew bowed appropriately. "It is a pleasure to welcome you to Constantinople."
"The pleasure is mine, Your Majesty."
"And this is your nephew?" the Emperor asked, looking carefully at the young black-haired boy with brown eyes. "I had heard that he died." That line was spoken in the German of Brandenburg.
Harry knew he had to reply, and he did so with flawless intonation. "At least twice, Your Majesty. But I have recovered."
The Emperor laughed. "You will go far, young man, but I caution you, do not linger here. Your face is now known in Roumeleia. The Byzantine Empire will not smile kindly on you."
Harry took a chance and spoke in Anglo-French, "I assure Your Majesty that I do not plan to stay."
The Emperor was pleased at the remark and placed his doubts aside. But he would see that both of these guests would depart his lands quickly.
Sigismund Polovski was quickly separated from his aunt in a skillful maneuver. A nobleman asked the Countess a question while his wife 'borrowed' the boy. Sigismund quickly found himself in the company of a half dozen noble sons and daughters the same age as he. They quickly began to ask him questions but he had the best defense.
"I must apologize, but I have never learned Greek. Never enough to converse."
It was 'almost as though it was planned'. One girl explained to the others what he had said, then turned to him.
"I have managed to learn Greek," she said with an impish grin.
"And I am errant with my lesson . . . My Lady?"
"And I am rude. I am Thalia Menokios. My father is Legion Commander for the cohorts of the City."
Sigismund smiled. She was the daughter of a prominent and sufficiently minor nobleman. "I am Sigismund Polovski. My aunt, the Countess Polovski, is training me for the diplomatic corps, and proving to me that I must continue my studies. On my next visit I will not embarrass myself."
Thalia took his hand and led him from the group to a quiet corner. "It is rude to let you talk in the midst of people who do not understand you and whom you do not understand. And I am curious about your country. We always hear things . . ."
"And they are always bad," Sigismund replied.
Thalia laughed. "Not always but . . . we do hear things. What was it like where you grew up?"
This time Sigismund laughed. "I grew up in Krakow. And to answer your question it is a wonderful place. It is a vibrant city, full of activity. Everywhere there are signs of industry. If you watched, you could actually see the Empire grow stronger."
Thalia and Sigismund exchanged smirks. She put her hands around his arm and led him to the window that looked out over the city toward the Hagia Sofia. "Here, everywhere is history. Everywhere are the signs that tell us how deeply our power is rooted in this land."
A hand let go of Sigismund's arm and gently stroked his sleeve as Thalia began to point out the various buildings and monuments that were visible. Her hand began fingering the buttons of his dress jacket.
"You said that Krakow was vibrant. Are its people vibrant as well?"
"If I say yes, you will demand proof." Sigismund smiled knowingly.
Thalia returned the smile as she moved her hand downward. "And if I demanded proof, would you show me?"
"Here?" came the coy reply.
"I know a discreet place."
Sigismund's smile became cold. "And why would I tryst with a mindless girl. In our country, what you are suggesting is what a peasant girl would suggest, so she could brag that she bedded a nobleman. Are you so weak that you play this game as well?" He added forcefully, "Or did I misunderstand your intent?"
Thalia blushed as she removed her hand from his belt. "You misunderstood my intentions."
"Then I apologize." He stepped back and bowed. "The Slavic races have always been hot blooded."
He gave her a gentle smile then turned and returned to the party alone. As he entered the ballroom, he looked and saw his aunt. He smiled and gave her a short bow. She returned his smile and nodded her head. She enjoyed being proven right.
Olga Polovski was still smiling as they returned to the Polish Embassy. The most difficult part of her plan had worked, but only by a stroke of fortune. She had taught the boy well, but not for this Emperor. She complemented herself on teaching at least the etiquette of the Court. But before she left for home she had one last task. To inform the Ambassador of the spy who had reported her presence.
"That was a foolish trick, Sigismund," she said to her nephew. "Kyril is no fool. He has kept Roumeleia strong for twice your years. By showing him your knowledge of Anglo-French, he may have reached the correct conclusion on how you learned it. But then we would not be having this conversation."
"My dearest Aunt," Harry said in his best Polish. "He knew what you were and suspected that I was the same. I had hoped to reinforce that suspicion."
"And you did, Dear One," Olga said as she patted Harry's cheek. "Come outside with me, on the balcony, and tell me what you see."
Harry walked with her and looked out over the city. The Embassy stood on prominent ground and commanded an excellent view of the city. To one side could be seen the Emperor's Palace, which was built when the Eastern Roman Empire was first formed. On the other side, an equal distance away, stood the Hagia Sophia, the oldest church in Christendom. It was there, this morning, now yesterday morning, that he had the privilege of attending the Christmas Mass, on direct orders of the Emperor.
"It is a beautiful city, Aunt. Every view speaks of history. London has history but nothing like this."
"The same is true of Krakow. And what do you conclude from this?"
"The Byzantine Empire is dying?"
Olga smiled. "Very Good, Sigismund. They are surrounded by younger neighbors who are also greedy. The Turks always threaten from the south, and we from the north. The Anglo-French control the seas, at least they did. This Empire can not grow. It can only shrink. It fights this war to prevent that. The Turks will get an outlet in New France and look away from them, and the Plantagenets are weakened as a result. They will strive against each other now, because no Plantagenet will ever tolerate anything taken from them. One against one, Roumeleia can always defend itself from any attacking force His Slavonic Majesty can muster. By fighting this war, Kyril guarantees that his empire will enter the next millennium."
Harry listened as the Countess spoke about Empires. Then she turned to him with a questioning look. "My dear nephew, can you find any mistake in his thinking?"
Harry thought at the clever plan and could see no fault with the logic. He gazed downward at the empty fountain in the courtyard below trying to puzzle it out. Then a cloud covered the winter sun. "Sigismund, put your hood up."
Sigismund. That is who he was here and now. Count Sigismund Polovski. Last Christmas he was Lord Henry de Somerset. The Christmas before he was Harry Potter.
There was a Christmas when he was nobody, an unwanted boy living in the cupboard under the stairs. A year went by, and he was somebody. He was a WIZARD. He had friends and he had presents. A year went by again and he had a BROTHER, a twin brother. Another year passed, and he greeted Christmas at HOME, with family and friends, and warmth and good will.
Then a year passed, and Christmas came again. And what had he gained this year? What had changed?
He had. He was the one who had changed. He smiled wryly as a thought came unbidden to his mind. "I have lost my immortality. In exchange I have learned that nothing lasts forever."
Olga Polovski eyed him with curiosity. Then she noted the look in his face. She smiled inwardly. Boys become Men. That is part of life. She had witnessed the moment when Man became more than Boy within her young charge.
"Do you know the answer?"
"Gibralter," Harry/Henry/Sigismund said firmly. "It changes the equation. As long as the Anglo-French Empire can control the Straights, it can control the sea trade into the Atlantic." He looked at the countess with understanding. "A Polish presence on the Mediterranean is no longer a threat to the Plantagenet Dynasty." He saw her encouraging smile and made the last connection. "There needs to be a symbol of trust to cement the alliance, to prove that enmities are placed aside, or at least placed under the table," they both grinned, "and that is why we are here."
"And why you will spend the New Year in Krakow, dining publically with Casimir."
Harry hated this. He would finally put the pieces together and then he would be given a cryptic praise. Something else was going on, and he might not find out until it was too late.
A knock. A servant opened the door and led the Ambassador through the apartments and to the balcony. The Ambassador bowed stiffly.
"Countess Polovski, His Most Gracious Majesty, Kyril XXV, has informed us that your presence entertained him greatly and he wishes to return the favour. He has placed a coach and an escort at your disposal, to take you and your entourage quickly and easily to your final destination. A private car will be waiting for you when you reach the train station."
The Ambassador spread his hands out to say he had nothing to with this and could do nothing about it. The Countess smiled to show she understood.
"Sigismund, it seems that you did impress the Emperor. We are going home."
The following morning, a world away, found Albus Dumbledore addressing the gathered students at breakfast. Almost all of them were still awake from the night before.
"I know I have talked with a number of you in the course of the night but I wanted to reassure everyone that what occurred last night, while it was not specifically planned to occur, the Empire had prepared itself in case it felt there was need for such an action. There have been continuous arguments between the Ministry of Magic and the Anglo-French Empire over the safety of two students whom we know as the Somerset Twins. Captain Sheffield has assured me that the situation will return to normal once the Tournament has ended and both of these boys can be withdrawn safely. They, and myself, have been very critical of the way the Ministry has handled itself.
"As you know, some students have left. Any other student who wishes to leave, for any reason, and with their parents approval, (The cheering ended in the Weasley section of the Hall) may do so, and expeditiously if you desire."
Colin noticed that Dumbledore was looking directly at him. The two of them had also talked in the course of the night.
"Lieutenant Creevey, if you still wish to visit your family then you may leave with our blessings."
Colin followed Dumbledore's gaze to Professor Flitwick, the Charms Professor, who motioned for him to follow. They left the hall and went outside. Professor Flitwick then forced a small gift into his hand.
"A Christmas Present from the school," the Charms Professor said cheerfully, then pulled out a piece of parchment.
A Christmas gift should bring good cheer
Joy that will last from year to year
If sadness or longing fills your heart
Of the place you did depart
Look upon this gift and speak of being here.
Professor Flitwick smiled sheepishly. "Professor Sprout was trying to write a limerick but she didn't get it quite right."
Colin smiled. "Thank you, Sir. But I will be returning, anyway. At least once more."
"Yes you will, Colin, but . . . you will not be staying." His frown matched the one the showing on Colin's face.
"I have my duties."
Professor Flitwick shook his hand then ushered him into the waiting coach with a final warning. "It's a good thing you changed out of your uniform. I don't think the Minister liked what we did."
"You knew?" Colin asked in surprise.
Flitwick nodded. "Albus asked all of us, and all of us agreed. Even Professor Binns. All the Minister had to do to prevent this was to be polite, but he can't stand being told what to do." He closed the door to the coach. "Now, off with you. Your family is waiting."
Colin waved his goodbye. He opened the small package. It was a picture frame, three inches by two inches, etched with images of the school and the grounds.
A minute later the frame was in the pocket of his winter jacket as he heard the command to stop. A half dozen Aurors had surrounded the coach and Colin was ushered outside. The gates to the school were some fifty feet behind him.
"It's the Creevey boy," one of them said.
"Bring him along. We have our orders."
"Where are you taking me?" Colin demanded.
The Auror grinned without humor. "We're taking you home, Boy. Your parents want you back."
No one even told them their names. The three men and two women that guarded the house told the Creeveys nothing. All they knew were that the five were wizards and witches, and they knew what was planned for them. Memory Charms.
"Doesn't sound charming at all," Mrs. Creevey said in bitter humor.
Dennis said nothing but sat quietly on the couch between his parents. He thought anyone who could do magic was a friend, and he believed Colin when he was told all of the stories about the Empire. He told the wizard in charge he couldn't wait to go back and find out how things had changed. Then Mum said it would be best if he didn't go back at all. The wizard said that would not be a problem.
They were going to make them forget everything. Dennis would have no memories of magic or Hogwarts or the Empire. Life would become normal again, and Dennis remembered what normal was like. He remembered hiding from the bullies who would tease him and Colin for being different. He remembered not having any friends because sometimes things would happen that he couldn't explain. He remembered having only one real friend, and that was his brother.
Then the fireplace flared and Colin appeared. It would have been wonderful. They didn't have a fireplace this morning. The wizards had cast spells which caused the lights to go out and the refrigerator to die. But a fireplace with warming flames appeared in one corner of the living room that doubled as a den. A milkman does not make enough money to afford a large house, and they barely afforded this.
Now Colin was here, dressed like a normal boy, and soon everything would end. But Colin was smiling as he walked toward them.
"Hi, Mum, Dad. Sorry for all the trouble. Dennis, Flitwick gave me this great present."
One of the Aurors now had his head in the fireplace, talking to someone in the ministry. They were getting the approval for the memory removal. "Hurry up," one of the other Aurors said to him without humor.
"See, it's a picture frame, and it has a card in it from a Chocolate Frog. See Mum, Dad, it's Albus Dumbledore."
Dennis could hear his mother starting to cry. Their world was about to end and her oldest son was rambling about a picture in a frame. But Dennis saw the picture. Albus Dumbledore was motioning. He was making grabbing motions at the side of the frame.
"Colin, that's a great frame. Can I touch it?"
The picture of Dumbledore gave an exultant smile.
Dad noticed it too. Dennis could tell he figured it out. He put his hand out and touched the frame. Colin made a motion with his hand, unseen by the Aurors behind him, that they should take hold of the frame.
"This is something, Mum," Dad said in as happy a voice as he could muster. "You should feel how smooth this frame is." Each of them had hold of a corner and Dad took Mum's hand with his free hand and made her grab the remaining corner. Mum shot a quick look at Colin who smiled encouragingly. Dennis and his father were also looking expectantly at Colin when one of the witches asked, "What's so great about that picture frame?"
Colin replied, "Hogwarts."
Dennis felt something wrench at his stomach and the world around him went mad. Shortly, the world righted itself again and they were outside in the snow.
"WE'RE AT HOGWARTS," He shouted. "MUM, DAD, LOOK."
Badly shaken by what had happened, Mrs. Creevey looked up and saw a fairy tale castle in front of her. She felt her husband grab her in a hug and tell her it was a beautiful sight. She was crying again, but from relief. They ran to the steps and inside, happy to be warm, and Albus Dumbledore was standing there, smiling at them.
Dennis blushed in embarrassment as his mother walked up to the headmaster and hugged him. He turned away and saw an unusual site. Colin and Professor Flitwick were doing s high five with their hands.
Colin was forced to introduce his parents to everyone. The Gryffindors heaped praise on Colin for his quick thinking, especially after Professor McGonagall explained to them what had happened. By the end of a very busy day, Colin sat down to dinner on either side of his parents, happy and sad at the turn of events.
"I knew what it was," he explained as he told the story again. "Professor Flitwick is an expert at portkeys, and he even told me the part about speaking the name. I didn't realize why Dumbledore insisted I have one until those Aurors grabbed me. He knew what they were planning. He's the one you should thank, Mum."
"I did."
"Oh, yeah."
"Goodman Creevey?"
Everyone looked up to see who had called.
"I suppose I should have said Mister Creevey, I am Captain Sir Mortimer Sheffield of His Majesty's Barracks at Cambridge, and acting Military Governor of Hogwarts during its occupation. I am the one responsible for your problems and I wish to apologize."
"It worked out all right," Mister Creevey said. "But I don't know what to do now. You wizards don't have much use for a milkman."
"A milkman? You have a dairy farm?"
Colin smirked. "My dad delivers bottles of milk to people's houses."
Sheffield nodded. "That will be a problem I suppose, but then I am not a wizard. I have no talent to speak of. I will make inquiries however, in case you decide you might wish to live in the Empire. We destroyed your life. We should repair it."
"I'd like to know why this happened," Mister Creevey replied. "At least I'd sleep better."
"It was my fault," Dennis admitted. "I told those wizards it would be great to come back here."
"Dennis, don't be foolish," his mother said. "I was the one to insist that you never go back. I didn't know how wizards handled these things."
"Can we stay, Mum? I mean, we are back."
"We'll see."
Sheffield noted the remark. "Goodwoman Creevey, I must assume that you did not wish for Lieutenant, excuse me, for Colin to return to his former position?"
Colin looked nervously at his mother. This was all by the agreement of both his parents. His mother gave him a wry smile. "Captain, could we have some time to think about it?" She patted her son on the back.
"I will inform Naval Affairs that he is to be removed from the active list until further notice. I will tell them it is due to a catastrophic family event. After all, he is only thirteen. Even by the standards of the Empire, his parents have a say in what he does."
"Mum?" Colin asked as Captain Sheffield walked away.
A woman always looks forward to and fears the day when her children will be grown. Mrs. Creevey was facing those fears. Her son had been through a great deal and it had changed him. His permanent smile was still there, but the fear was gone. He had learned to fend for himself. He had made friends. And he had faced sudden danger to bring his family out of a perilous situation. She shuddered at the thought of not remembering things that had happened to her, and not minding the fact. It brought back memories of her great-Aunt. She suffered from Alzheimer's disease. Her last years were a tragedy.
"Your father and I will decide in a week or so. I think we need time, just to be a family."
The family paused as they saw another man approach.
"Excuse me," Sirius Black said as he walked up and introduced himself. "I happen to have a friend in the Ministry, a friend of a friend actually, and he retrieved some property that belongs to you." He handed Mrs. Creevey over a dozen letters, all of them from Colin.
The Centurion noted the private car and ordered his men to ignore it. They were thorough in checking the papers of all the other passengers. Only then was the train permitted to cross the border into the Polish Empire. There the train was stopped again, and everyone's papers and luggage were inspected a second time. The Captain noted the private car and motioned for the Lieutenant to take three men and investigate personally. Diplomatic immunity only applied to foreign diplomats.
The Lieutenant carefully reviewed the papers for Countess Polovski and her nephew. He handed them back without apology while his men did a cursory search of the car. The one of the soldiers stopped when he noticed Sigismund. Their eyes met, and the soldier immediately trained his rifle on the boy.
"Lieutenant, he is an imposter."
The Lieutenant drew his pistol, and the other two soldiers trained their weapons on the suspect.
"Countess, you must explain or we will have to take him for questioning."
"The boy is an imposter, Lieutenant." The Countess walked over to a small table which had already been examined. She openly revealed the secret compartment and pulled out a letter being the Imperial Seal of Poland. She handed this letter to the officer. "I will have you know, Lieutenant, that this young man managed his way through every security check point between Morocco and here without incident. It was only when he was examined by men of the SERKA that he was discovered."
"I understand, Countess," the Lieutenant said as he waved his men off the train. Once they left, he added, "I apologize for not noticing myself."
"May I ask," Harry interrupted. "What is it that I did wrong?"
The Countess smiled. "Lieutenant?"
"Sir, you made eye contact with one of the men, yet gave no order. You should have demanded he continue with his work. Instead, you held contact with him."
"My apologies," Harry said and politely bowed to the officer.
"Lieutenant?" The man turned back to the Countess. "It will be known shortly who this young man is. I want the man who uncovered him to be wearing Sergeant's stripes before nightfall, but the reason must not be revealed until it becomes public knowledge."
"It will be done, Countess."
"And Captain."
The officer did a double-take, then smiled.
"If the reason is revealed beforehand, you and your men will be shot."
"Under the circumstances, it is expected, My Countess. And should that happen, I will conduct the executions myself. All four of them."
Harry knew that the Lieutenant was telling the truth. Something was being planned and if those plans were upset, it could spell disaster. It was better for the Lieutenant's family if he were to accept death over dishonour.
