The Silver Blade (23 page)
‘I will kill you,’ shouted Anselm, pulling a knife. Making a dash towards Yann he found that his feet were no longer on the ground. Instead he was hanging upside down, spinning like a child’s top. He dropped the knife, which hung, caught in midair.
Citizeness Manou came to see what the commotion was about. As she helped Colombine from the room, Yann clicked his fingers again and Anselm fell unconscious to the floor.
L
ater that night, numbing his rage with cheap wine, his sides hurting, his head reeling, Anselm was aware of an unstoppable force entering the bar. Milkeye gripped him by the collar and dragged him to the Place de la Revolution. Only there did he let him go and, looking up, Anselm found himself face to face with Count Kalliovski. Balthazar was at his side.
ater that night, numbing his rage with cheap wine, his sides hurting, his head reeling, Anselm was aware of an unstoppable force entering the bar. Milkeye gripped him by the collar and dragged him to the Place de la Revolution. Only there did he let him go and, looking up, Anselm found himself face to face with Count Kalliovski. Balthazar was at his side.
‘You have let me down,’ said Kalliovski, his voice razor sharp. Balthazar growled.
‘I can get the information, I can. I mean, I know that Yann Margoza works at the theatre and that the dwarf Tetu is there—’
‘You’re not very clever, are you? Do you think I don’t know all that and more? What I needed was for you to become a part of the company, for the actress Colombine to feel that you would never betray her. Instead you beat your new wife.’
‘I can do it.’
‘You are nothing more than a common thug, a pretty bully boy. You bore me. All your kind bore me.’ Kalliovski pushed his index finger into Anselm’s cheek. For a moment he felt that his face was on fire.
‘I can get her back. I can, honest I can. I know how and—’
Kalliovski’s laughter resounded around the Place de la Revolution. ‘What you know about women is nothing. You are ignorant. You are a slug, a miserable, slimy slug.
What, I wonder, did I see in you?’ Kalliovski began to walk away.
‘I will do anything, master, please!’ shouted Anselm. ‘Anything! Give me another chance!’
Kalliovski turned. ‘You have a week. If you fail … I need another chandelier, and your bones will fit my design beautifully. Or perhaps another talking head would be amusing. I haven’t yet decided. Fail me, and you are dead. I have no mercy.’
Anselm shivered as he watched them all disappear into the night. Breathing heavily, he leaned against the winding cloth of the guillotine, relieved still to be alive. Something brushed against his legs and he stood suddenly upright, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. He looked down to see rats, black as the plague, scuttling from under the scaffold, running between his legs, over his shoes, and a soundless scream, bone hard, caught in his throat. Terrified, he scurried away. The lugubrious shadow of the guillotine followed him.
A
t the theatre, Yann was still in his dressing room when Didier knocked on the door. ‘I’ve been sent to fetch you. There’s a real argy-bargy going on in the office. Cordell is here.’
t the theatre, Yann was still in his dressing room when Didier knocked on the door. ‘I’ve been sent to fetch you. There’s a real argy-bargy going on in the office. Cordell is here.’
‘Wait, Didier,’ said Yann, ‘is there any news about Remon Quint?’
‘None. I went down to the catacombs while you were away, but I couldn’t find that passage again. What do you think happened to him?’
‘I don’t know.’ Yann sighed. ‘But he had the smell of death upon him.’
‘Is that another gypsy superstition?’
‘I felt it the moment I first saw him. It never got any better.’
Didier shook his head. ‘It’s a bad business, that’s for sure.’
‘
W
here the devil have you been?’ said Cordell, when Yann walked into the office. ‘Downstairs.’
W
here the devil have you been?’ said Cordell, when Yann walked into the office. ‘Downstairs.’
‘No, I mean for the past week. What have you been doing?’
‘Walking.’
‘What were you thinking of? It was no time to take a grand tour, with Remon Quint missing. You were needed here, to help sort out this mess. And if you had been here we might have been able to save the Duchesse de Bourcy from the guillotine. But you weren’t, you were rambling about the countryside. It’s too late now. She and her friend the Marquise de Valory were both executed yesterday, along with Madame Picard’s daughter Celeste, who was only fifteen years old.’
‘Sixteen,’ said Yann, ‘and I am glad to hear it.’
Cordell hit the desk. ‘That’s preposterous, sir. What is wrong with you? Glad to hear it? Have you lost your mind?’
‘No,’ said Yann, ‘but now they are all dead they might be able to live in relative peace.’
Cordell looked at Tetu and Citizen Aulard. His temper had suddenly evaporated. Yann was ill; that could be the only explanation.
‘Maybe you’ve had too much sun. God knows what I’ll write to the Duke. I gave him my word I would protect her.’
‘Then tell him that his wife is in excellent health,’ said Yann, ‘that she suffered her ordeal with great courage. The only damage done is to her hair, which was cut off. And that the girl Celeste who shared the Duchess’s cell is a delight, and thrilled to have exchanged a prison cell for the de Bourcy chateau. And no, I haven’t lost my mind.’
Cordell’s face was grave. ‘Yann, I have the official reports. Do you wish to see them? They were all executed.’
‘No, I’ve seen them already. After all, I wrote them.’
Citizen Aulard burst out laughing. Cordell looked completely stunned. A smile crossed Tetu’s face.
‘I came home past the Hotel de Ville and they were very grateful to know that three more traitors had been sacrificed at the bloody altar. I made sure their names were posted. The governor of the prison at Chantilly will confirm that two of his prisoners were sent to the guillotine.’
‘I think,’ said Cordell quietly, ‘I owe you an apology.’
‘You owe me nothing,’ said Yann. ‘Write to the Duke and tell him there is life after death.’
Chapter Twenty
A
uguste, Viscomte de Reignac, first met Sido de Villeduval at a summer ball. His arrival in London caused no end of a stir among the emigre society, for Auguste de Reignac belonged to that rare breed of aristocrats who not only held a bona fide title but, more remarkable still, had managed to escape France with their fortune intact.
uguste, Viscomte de Reignac, first met Sido de Villeduval at a summer ball. His arrival in London caused no end of a stir among the emigre society, for Auguste de Reignac belonged to that rare breed of aristocrats who not only held a bona fide title but, more remarkable still, had managed to escape France with their fortune intact.
Juliette had been delighted to see the effect her niece had on this handsome shy young man. Her beauty had already attracted many admirers, who treated her as if she were made of porcelain, a precious object to be treasured, worshipped. Sido had the feeling that she was nothing more than a pencil sketch, to be filled in and coloured to suit the needs of others, to be adored by the foppish young dandies who treated her like a lame Madonna. At balls, she was left to sit with whining, horse-faced ladies, whose dance cards were empty, and listen while their vicious tongues sliced and cut their prettier sisters.
Auguste de Reignac was different. He sat beside her and engaged her in intelligent conversation. He told her of his flight from Paris and how with the help of a young man named Yann Margoza he’d escaped and, as he talked, he noticed Sido’s eyes brighten to a radiant blue.
She said, ‘Yann rescued me too from Paris, at the beginning of the September Massacre.’
‘Of course, forgive me, I didn’t make the connection. Your father was the Marquis de Villeduval?’
‘That is correct.’
‘What a terrible ordeal you must have suffered. I heard that the Marquis was killed. Perhaps it was a mercy his mind had gone. I hope he was unaware of what was happening.’
‘I pray so,’ said Sido. ‘And I heard about your family too. I am sorry.’
‘I have decided to live,’ said Auguste seriously. ‘I think I must, as I have no idea why it should be me that is here, not my sister or …’ He stopped, the subject too painful for this garish ballroom. ‘Would you kindly do me the honour of dancing with me?’
And Sido, who had too long waited for someone to ask her, didn’t hesitate to say, ‘Yes.’
That evening there were many frustrated young beaux who realised they’d missed a golden opportunity with the beautiful Marquise de Villeduval, who danced delightfully with an elegance of movement and an energy that lit up the room.
Going home in the carriage, Juliette had been quietly thrilled with Sido, and felt that at last Yann Margoza would be replaced in her affections by this altogether more suitable young man.
N
ext day Juliette invited Auguste to dine. The drawing room at Queen Square that evening was full, as it often was, with emigres newly arrived in London, and others who had been in exile far longer and were now beginning to wonder if they would ever be able to return home.
ext day Juliette invited Auguste to dine. The drawing room at Queen Square that evening was full, as it often was, with emigres newly arrived in London, and others who had been in exile far longer and were now beginning to wonder if they would ever be able to return home.
As soon as Juliette was engrossed in conversation with the Duc de Bourcy, Sido asked Auguste to tell her more about his escape.
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