The Temple of Indra’s Jewel: (21 page)

Before I could utter one word, I caught sight of his face and saw his fury. I tried to swallow my panic and turned on my heels to head back upstairs.

“Stop right there!” Henri ordered.

I stared at the sweat staining the fabric under his arms. Lisabetta stood at the edge of the doorway with her hands over her mouth, staring at me. A moment passed before I realized he had pointed a sword at me.

“Where were you?” he bellowed.

As I sought appropriate words to defuse the situation, he took two steps toward me and grabbed me roughly by the arm. “Answer me—now!” he raged, throwing his weapon aside. It stuck in a bureau not a foot away from where Lisabetta stood. I expected anger, but I was shocked by his grip.

I had to swallow the lump in my throat before I could speak. “I was spending time with Bianca as intended.” I pulled away and tried to compose myself.

Henri gave me a strange look but made no response.

“Mother was aware of this; I’m assuming she didn’t tell you.” I summoned the haughtiest voice I could muster.

“No, she didn’t. How could she? She isn’t here. Why didn’t any of the servants know? Or were they covering for you?” Henri demanded, turning his ominous glare to Lisabetta. She dropped her head. I could still make out the faint bruising. Pity washed over me, but I pushed it down and strolled to the window, quickly thinking of a strategy.

“What? Am I to answer to the servants all of a sudden? I will not stand here and be chastised. What do you care anyway? You are not my keeper.”

Henri leaned forward, his face ablaze. “You know very well I am your keeper.”

“I’m going to my room to lie down.”

“As you wish,” he responded in a calm but clipped tone. The devious look settling on his face made my nerves stand on end like a cat in a puddle.
What
does
he
have
up
his
sleeve?
I thought to myself as I turned and began to climb the stairs.

“Oh, Princess.” Henri paused, smiling mischievously. “I will be up a little later to ask you a few more questions. Until then my friend Gabriella will be keeping an eye—I mean keeping you company. I hope you won’t mind.” He opened the door and headed back outside, leaving me pondering his next move.

I didn’t sleep that night and was informed at breakfast that Henri had a particular excursion he wished me to accompany him on. I met him downstairs, and he took my arm.

“Good morning,
ma
chère
,” he said. “Shall we begin our adventure?”

Adventure,
I thought to myself.
These
days,
I
could
do
with
a
lot
less
adventure.

“Today we shall discuss honesty.”

A distant chime of foreboding rang out in my head. I straightened my shoulders as I climbed into the opulent travelling coach parked outside of the great door of the castle.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“The gardens of Saint Martin.”

That
doesn’t
sound
so
bad.
Perhaps he was relieved to have me back and willing to overlook my disappearance. As we approached I noticed that high shrubbery walls on either side enclosed what appeared to be a fort. Trees, vines and flowers all ran amuck, almost as if hiding the cold stone walls.

I was led through numerous dismal stone passages until we reached a large subterranean hall. It was long and narrow; my hands and feet were freezing. The chime of terror grew stronger, and my skin began to prickle.
Why
are
we
heading
into
a
dungeon?
Henri stood by the open door, looking even more grim than earlier, if that was possible. He was dressed in a sober dark green uniform, hands folded in front, a clear display of arrogance and ruthlessness apparent in the set of his shoulders. Still, he smiled jovially enough and invited me to come closer.

“You will forgive the dank quarters, my dear Sapphira,” he went on. “It’s unpleasant, but I believe it’s necessary for us to come to some sort of understanding.”

I stepped inside, expecting the door to slam behind me. Instead I was assaulted by the smell of vomit and feces and something else. In the corner a lump was curled in the darkness, keening and crying. Blood. I realized the smell was blood.
Viktor.
Where
is
Viktor?

I recoiled from the creature before me and looked at the Comte’s impassive face.

“Of course you know Herr Rochus Liebhauser.”

At the sound of his name, the man in the corner turned his face to mine. I could not look upon what I saw there. I dropped my eyes to the floor, wet with fresh blood. Horror at what they had done to Rochus, mixed with relief that it was not Viktor, surged through my veins. I ran to him, though my stomach retched. He flinched as I put an arm around him.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I’ll get you out.”

I fled the cell then and vomited, comprehending what I had seen. One of his eyes had been cut out.

Footsteps came toward me, and I knew the Comte was hovering over me.

“You’re a monster!” I reached my hand up to smack him in the face, and he caught it in so forceful a grip I was sure it was bruised.

“Your chamber maid, Anais, has gone home to her family,” he said. “We did not harm her, but I would like you to stay and obey the rules from now on.”

I stumbled back down the numerous passages toward the castle door and then sat silently in the carriage next to the monster, counting the minutes until I was alone again in my room. My shoulders sagged as exhaustion hit me. I was so tired. My head ached after all the retching.
Poor
Rochus.
I had seen the panic in his eyes the day I had shown up at Rochus’s home. I remembered how he had paled as he scolded me for coming myself.
How
could
I
have
been
so
careless?
I had been naïve, not realizing what kind of monster I was up against. Now Rochus lay in jail, alone and in pain. I vowed to somehow get him out of there and undo all of this. I prayed that Henri was telling the truth and that Anais had merely been banished, allowed to return to her family unharmed.

In despair, I went to the desk in Sapphira’s room. Had he searched it
?
No, the diary and map were still hidden. I opened the drawer and tucked them away. I couldn’t think
.
I sighed, sensing it would be useless to read the diary over right now in such an emotionally drained state. I lay down on the bed and dissolved into tears. The rain continued to fall outside my window, and I felt like the world was crying with me. Finally exhaustion overtook me, and I lapsed into a dream.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

T
he sound of muffled voices coming from the fireplace jarred me awake. I sat upright to the scent of a vaguely familiar perfume that created a deep need to follow. I was up and off the bed in a matter of moments. Something told me to enter the fireplace. I glanced at the desk and saw the open journal. The date stood out—from two months earlier. Two months before I’d ever arrived at the castle.
What
is
happening
?

Looking down, I observed that I wore a beautiful silk gown trimmed with blue satin, blond chenille lace, flowers constructed of gathered ribbon, feathers and tassels. It was not the dress I’d worn to the dungeon to see Rochus; that had been red. I remembered thinking it was red like the blood on his face. Sadness overtook me but was quickly replaced with confusion. My hand stole to my hair. I fingered large ringlets spilling down my back. Turning my head, I caught my reflection in a tall window.

Blue eyes, slanted slightly upward in the corners, stared back at me from a pale face with sunny blonde hair.
I’m
still
Sapphira.
How
did
I
get
changed
and
where
am
I
going?
This
must
be
another
vision.

I shook my head and ran my hands along the mantle, surprised when the fireplace opened. The muffled voices grew louder.

“I’m sorry to hear about your father, Will. I can’t believe he escaped the attack only to die of the influenza.”

Holding my breath as well as a candle, not certain what to steel myself against, but steeling myself nonetheless, I stepped into a dark tunnel full of flickering shadows.

I scurried instinctively along the passageway with an odd sense of familiarity of its twists and turns.
Charles
and
I
played
in
here
our
whole
lives,
said the voice in my head. Sapphira’s voice.
Father
used
the
secret
room
to
meet
gem
merchants.
I did my best to relax again.

“Yes, I know.” A man’s voice brought me back to the present. “What a turn of events.” I recognized the man speaking to my brother Charles as William Ferris Jr. What was he doing here in the middle of the night?

His
father
the
treasure
hunter
escaped
India
only
months
ago.
The thought came to me instantly, both through Sapphira’s memories and my own. I had read about Ferris being stuck in the middle of the Indian Rebellion.
This
is
his
son.

“At least he made it back to say good-bye. I heard many of them died of sunstroke,” Charles said.

“You heard right. They weren’t prepared. It’s amazing they defended themselves for as long as they did,” Will replied.

“How’d he get involved? I thought he was going to visit the Temple of Indra in search of the missing jewels.”

“Politics,” sniped Will.

“Your father went on tons of treasure hunting trips and always managed to stay out of the politics.”

“The colonel was a friend. He was staying as his guest.”

“You don’t look so well yourself. Are you all right?” Charles asked.

“It’s been a pretty stressful go. I’ll feel better once this is all over.”

“Do you have it?”

I continued to follow the light down the tunnel until I came to a large stone wall. I was careful to stay three paces behind the men, knowing Charles’s aversion to my tagging along.

“Are you sure you want to sell?” asked Charles.

Will Jr. removed the cloth from his pocket and unwrapped something, but I couldn’t quite see what it was.

“’Fraid so, old chap. Father ran into some bad luck before he died, and it’s left us in a dire straight. You’re going to love them, I just know it.”

“I’m always happy to add to the royal collection, and of course with Sapphira’s birthday approaching, I’ll need something special made. This purple amethyst sounds like it will make a beautiful centrepiece for the necklace I had in mind.”

“Just take a look at this,” Will said.

I heard a gasp and inched closer as swiftly as I could, trying to get a little closer to see what they were in awe over.

“It’s beautiful,” Charles said, holding a diamond up to the light, twisting it and turning it, checking it over completely.

I braced my hand against the wall and leaned as close as I dared. A small avalanche of pebbles fell to the ground, alerting the men of my presence.

“Spies!” shouted Will.

Charles spun back and grabbed me by the arm, dragging me into the light.

“No, only a rat.”

I smiled timidly.

“Sapphira, Your Highness. How lovely to see you again.” Will leaned forward and kissed my hand.

“Hello, Will,” I whispered, staring at the largest diamond I’d ever seen. It was rose-cut and looked like a gumdrop with facets. “Where did you get that from?”

Charles jerked my arm. “Sapphira, what are you doing following us? You could have been hurt.”

“Well, I’m fine, so please let go.” I turned back to the jewel.

The bottom was flat, like an egg that had been chopped in half, and the top gave off a beautiful pink glow.

“Where did you say your father got this from? The Temple of Indra?” I whispered.

Will laughed. “I see you’ve been with us for a while. Yes, the Temple of Indra, but that’s between you, me and your brother. That’s the gumdrop diamond once known as the Great Mogul, and this is your amethyst, my dear girl, the Purple Delhi Sapphire.” He dropped it out of the cloth and into my bare palm. The heat warmed my skin, making it tingle. “Sorry to ruin your birthday surprise.”

Charles grunted disapprovingly.

I smiled, turning toward him. “Thank you, brother. It looks like there are markings on it.”

“Yes. I think you might be right. I’ve never actually looked at it. My father was far more impressed with the Mogul diamond.”

Will smiled at me and took a deep breath, gazing at the jewels. “These sure have caused a lot of pain and havoc.”

I dropped the amethyst abruptly into the cloth in Will’s hand.

Both Charles and Will looked sharply up at me.

“Not literal pain, Princess. It’s not going to burn you or anything.” He chuckled. “Although this one did come with a note,” he said, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket.

“What does it say?”

“I’m not sure. Anyway, I need to get rid of them so they can’t be traced back to my family.”

“Of course.” Charles nodded.

“And it’s why I wanted to sell them to you, a true friend who would keep them quiet. Just between you and me, my father told me the theft of these caused the Indian Rebellion.”

“That’s preposterous; the Siege of Cawnpore was an armed uprising.”

“Well, yes, that’s what you would have heard.” A shadow crossed Will’s face.

“Politics, eh?” I said, recounting Will’s earlier comment.

He smiled sheepishly. “The British weren’t aware of the two-year race between Nana Sahib and my father to find the hidden gems. Both men tracked the famed jewels down to the temple pretty much at the same time, but my father was able to steal them right out from under their noses. The next day Nana Sahib’s forces entered the British camp where my father was staying. The soldiers thought they had come to guard the magazine.”

“And they just let him in?” questioned Charles.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“And so all that fighting was over the jewels?” commented Charles.

I interrupted, bored with the story. “How did the jewels get to the Temple?”

“They belonged to the Mogul emperors and were passed with a vast quantity of other treasures to Nadir Shah.”

“Nadir Shah?” I questioned.

“He was the Napoleon of Persia, my dear sister,” said Charles, bouncing the new treasure up and down in his hand like a rock.

“In 1747, a few years after returning from his bloody campaign, Nadir was murdered, and his ill-gotten treasures were plundered and dispersed by his troops.” Will paused, taking the diamond back from Charles and rubbing it between his palms. “A short time later, one of those soldiers, an Afghan, made an appearance in the Persian Gulf and brought some of his wares, including one very large diamond known as the Great Mogul, an emerald of rare size, a magnificent sapphire, since known to the Persians as the Eye of Allah, and the cursed Purple Delhi Sapphire. He offered them to a man named Shaffrass, who agreed but put him off for a few days in order to find sufficient funds.” Will took a deep breath before continuing his story. “So the Afghan became suspicious, and fancying that a snare was being laid for him sent them with a friend to be hidden. The Afghan was poisoned by Shaffras and thrown into the Tigris. The jewels were left hidden in the Temple until they were discovered by my father.”

“Fascinating,” Charles said, moving to the left and touching the stone wall.

The wall suddenly moved; I realized one of the stones must have held a lever or a button.

“So I finally get to see your father’s inner sanctum jewel room—my father went on and on about this place,” Will said.

Charles stepped inside and began lighting candles. My eyes widened as I took in the grandness of the space. Baroque architecture complete with Rococo paneling, and everything was gold.

I felt as if I’d been slammed back into my body. My eyes flew open, and yet I could still feel the weight of the jewel in my palm. Confused, my eyes roamed the Princess’s familiar bedroom. I was back.