Frankengeld Pt. 40

Previously in Frankengeld. Damion escaped from Durishaus with Monifa's assistance, not forgetting the cat Miit. They return to number 34 and are seen together. Monifa has met Damion's staff and Alicia and they have discovered she is a sorceress. After persuading Helena not to march up to Durishaus with a knife to challenge Damion's Mother and Father they chat and retire to bed, only for Damion to have a terrible dream in which his forced marriage was not foiled.

Now read on...

26th June in the year 1784, very early in the morning.

The ringing of the bell was followed swiftly by the pounding of a fist on the door, and then the bell rang again. I rose, pulled on a dressing gown, and went down to find out who was there.

The drunkard Doctor Hoffer perhaps? Returned to once again tell me to leave Carlsbruck. I had no desire to face him but I couldn't refuse to open the door to what might just as well be a patient in great need. I did, however, take the precaution of looking through the peep hole to see who stood on the step before I unlocked the door. Faintly lit by starlight I could see a military man, by his insignia one of the officers working for the Chief of Police. He looked very stern faced. Was he here to arrest me for my experiments? They could be deemed indecent by someone who didn't understand my purpose. Well, nothing to do about it, I had to open the door, or risk this man smashing his way in.

"Herr Doctor Frankengeld?" the officer enquired.

"Yes," I replied. "How may I serve you?"

"You must attend the Chief of Police," he said, in a tone that indicated he would brook no nonsense. At the bottom of the stairs a horse and trap waited, the driver sitting hunched over the reins, motionless.

"Is he ill?" I asked, hoping for more details that would help me understand if I should bring my medicine kit, an overnight bag, or simply stretch out my arms to have restraints applied.

"I regret to inform you that murder has been committed at Durishaus," said the officer. He looked closely at me, judging my reaction.

I was an open book, I stood aghast, "Murder! But who? When?"

"Best you come with me now, Herr Doctor," said the officer. "The Chief needs your medical expertise at the scene of crime."

So, he wasn't here to arrest me. I thought hard about what needed to be done. "Give me two minutes," I told him. "To dress and instruct my servants."

He nodded and stood alert for my return. I walked into the hall and into a gaggle of staff. Everyone was there, anxiously awaiting the news. I quickly explained the situation, then gave my orders.

"Helena," I said. "Take Yani for protection and go to Freida's house, if you please. Beg her to attend me at Durishaus. I fear we may need her investigative skills. And ask Madam Minna to inform Alicia that we may need her strength."

Helena and Yani fled to their rooms to dress.

"Monifa," I continued. "I need you to guard this house. In case some evil is targeting my family and comes here."

The little sorceress flexed her fingers and looked very proud to be asked to do this duty. "That I will do. And there's no need to bother the Madam Minna," she said. "I will tell Alicia now." She walked to the mirror and started to talk to her reflection. Fascinating, but I could not delay to observe her magic, and I saw Una looking anxious.

"Una," I said. "Please, stay here with Monifa and give her what aid you can. I do not want someone pointing the finger of blame at you, claiming that you are a disgruntled former servant, and have done this deed."

Una looked happy with this task. I ran upstairs, dressed, and collected my medical bag from the treatment room. Murder meant a death, but there might be others who needed my skills with the living. Finally I turned to the ever-patient Anya, "It is risky but your task, should you wish to accept it, is to go to Lord Scunthorpe and beg his attendance here. We may need his fighting skills."

Anya took the mace off the wall. "None will prevent me," she grinned.

Orders issued I opened the door and gestured to the officer.

"I am at your service," I said. "Lead on."

I thought Lord Philip's driving was too fast and furious, but he had nothing on the officer who took us to Durishaus in record time. He must have had special 'high speed' training. I hung onto the hand grips for dear life as we bowled along and bounced over ruts and potholes. We slid sideways as we entered the grounds and I swear the officer applied the handbrake to ease the cart around and achieve the manoeuvre. In a splatter of gravel we came to a halt at the front portico. The Chief of Police was waiting at the door, talking to Alicia.

"Herr Doctor," he said. "I regret having to bring you to the scene of dreadful murder. It may be painful but I need your skills that you admirably demonstrated upon the murdered girl."

I bowed deeply. Clearly there was to be no false arrest here, I was not suspected of this crime.

"Strangely," he continued. "The Countess here was walking in the vicinity and has offered her support."

He turned to enter and I leaned close to Alicia. Dreadful murder sounded very serious and I was reassured that she was by my side. If a murderer lurked still in Durishaus I had no doubt she could face him, or her, or it.

"Enter my house, Alicia," I whispered, granting her access over the threshold. "I am very pleased to see you."

"My honour, my friend," she replied. "You and your assistant were the first to trust me in four hundred years. I owe you for giving me my new, and rather interesting, life."

We passed through the grand doors and stood in the hallway. Then the Chief led us up the stairs. Only hours earlier I had fled this house, down these very stairs, to escape marriage and now I was back. I wondered what evidence was left of the orgy, and what had happened to my relatives. The house seemed empty, except for the occasional soldier guarding a room, but there had been dozens of my relatives in attendance. Where had they all gone?

As we climbed the grand staircase the Chief explained why we were here.

"My men were alerted," he said. "By the Abbot of Gelenberg Monastery. He stopped his coach in the market square to say that violence had broken out in Durishaus, and that he was taking your sister, Elodie, to a place of safety at his monastery."

I wondered how a Monastery might be a place of safety for a woman and then remembered that there was a Guest House beside it, where visitors could be accommodated.

"When my men arrived," the Chief continued. "They found that all the guests had departed in a hurry, in fact they passed coaches and traps fleeing the scene as they rode towards the house. When they came within the grounds they found the house doors wide open and the staff barricaded in their quarters."

You could rely on Bruno to protect his underlings, I thought, and this was perhaps the very reason why a separate building for the staff had been maintained for over a hundred years.

We had arrived now at the top of the first flight and here were discarded goblets and masks, the detritus of the orgy, cast aside in the retreat. I noted that one mask, that we passed close to, was stained with blood. There was a guard outside the Red Room, with a distinctly queasy expression on his face. He was young and, perhaps, had not seen the results of violence before. The Chief led us past him to the Ballroom. The reason for the guard's queasiness lay at his feet. There was a smear of blood on the floor that led from the Red Room to the Ballroom, or perhaps the other way. I could not tell, but I made sure I did not tread in it.

"The steward told my men that the violence started in the Ballroom, so this is where they started their investigation. What they saw made them send for me."

A guard on the door opened it for us and the Chief was about to step in when I put my hand on his shoulder.

"Stop sir, please," I said, politely, for I had laid hands on a senior official. "Let us look from the door. I have sent for a friend who has some skill in interpreting the clues at a crime scene."

"Oh yes," he looked at me with a wry expression. "Another useful friend?" He glanced at Alicia and smiled. "You seem to attract them. Is this person as... unusual... as the Countess?"

"My friend would advise," I continued, ignoring his question and hoping he would accept Freida when she arrived. "That we disturb the scene as little as possible. Let us look from here."

Alicia and I stood in the threshold. The ballroom was in chaos with overturned chairs and smears of blood on the floor. The Fucking Stocks had been pushed over, no mean feat for it was very heavy, but at least there were no naked women in it now.

Slumped against the dais at the northern end was Costache, and sprawled on his face in the middle of the dance floor was Bogdan. They were unmoving with no signs of life.

"They are dead," said Alicia, quietly. It was a statement, not a question. "I smell much blood, and gunpowder, and the odour of lust."

"Your nose is sensitive," said a voice behind us. We had forgotten that the Chief was still there.

"It is a talent," replied Alicia. "But I can claim no credit for effort. It seems to be in my nature."

There was a myriad of marks on the floor, smears of blood, and other substances. I could not make anything of them. At the end where the musicians had been were just scattered chairs, and the drinks table looked as if people had fought each other for access to the great silver punch bowl. The bowl itself was on the floor, dented badly. It'll cost quite a lot to repair that, I thought, having had to do the same with some of our own silverware.

"Sir," a voice behind us came crisp and clear. "There is a woman at the door who claims she is a Companion of The Doctor. I told her this was no place for a woman but she insisted I contact you."

"That will be Freida," I said to the Chief. "She will be most helpful, I assure you."

"Bring her here," said the Chief. The soldier saluted and trotted away down the corridor. In his haste he failed to avoid the smear of blood, slipped, then regained his balance. He continued more carefully thereafter. A few minutes later he returned with our logical friend. She was dressed in a long coat with a short cape about the shoulders. I could not shake off the feeling she should also be wearing some sort of hat, and smoking a pipe.

It was a matter of moments to bring her up to date with events. She took off her coat, gave it to her soldier escort, drew a magnifying lens from the pocket, and entered the ballroom. Her movements were almost balletic as she carefully placed her feet to avoid the marks and stains. She studied everything and even lay on the floor at one point to examine closely, with her lens, a scratch or pool of blood. Then she returned to us. She addressed the Chief.

"The altercation started at the drinks table," she began. "I found these." Freida held up two small phials. For a moment I feared they were my Elixir and Potion, stolen by Gerda. Then I felt an intense surge of relief. They were not mine.

Unless Gerda had concealed the evidence, and it was possible she was that cunning, she had not used the Elixir of Pleasure she had stolen on the guests and left the jam jar lying around. Much as they might have appreciated the effect on their orgiastic costume ball. And I had no doubt the men in the room would have appreciated a dose of Priapus Potion, the other thing she had taken. It would have given them erections that lasted for hours. Did Gerda know she was to spend the wedding bent over in the stocks, a woman for free use by any man in the room? Oh dear, I had now gone full circle and convinced myself that she had at least put the Priapus Potion in the punch bowl, to enhance her enjoyment of the event.

But, sticking to facts and not speculation, neither of these little vials was the eye dropper I had used. They were cheaper looking, more the sort of thing sold by a travelling charlatan. Perhaps, I thought, these were aimed at producing a similar effect to my Priapus Potion. There were many substances that claimed aphrodisiac effects. And now I thought about it I remembered Costache and Bogdan threatening to dose me with something to make me want to pleasure every woman in the ballroom. Probably these empty vials belonged to them. And, if I had not escaped, I might have had something like this forcibly poured down my throat and then gone on to lose control and humiliate myself.

"They are empty," Freida continued. "But they may have contained illicit drugs, perhaps purchased from an Ottoman trader. There are signs of a struggle around that area that spread across the room."

She indicated several marks and then waved her hand. "This man was, I believe the first to die." She was pointing at Bogdan's body. "He has been shot in the chest at close range. There is blood and flesh under his fingernails so he was probably grappling with someone at the time. There is a mark from a blunt instrument upon his left temple, so he was probably struck, by a right handed individual, to break his grip. Then, as he staggered back, he was shot. From very close range for there is much unburned black powder on him."

I remembered my Father's costume, the Pirate King with his brace of double-barrelled pistols. Was it him? And, if so, why would he take loaded pistols to my wedding party. Foolish me, I thought, he took them to intimidate me into marrying Katy. A gun in the back can make many a man take vows he did not believe.

"The individual who hit him was very tall," Freida continued to a fascinated audience. "For the dead man is of a good height, yet the blow was delivered from slightly above, signifying someone taller."

Freida showed us a chair near to where Costache lay. "This chair has a bullet embedded in it. And there is one in the wainscoting, here. I think that this man..." she indicated the poor Costache "... was trying to flee, ducked here, took shelter here behind this chair, and was finally shot here."

She took us through the last few moments of Costache's life with a coolness that was astonishing. The soldier who had sought to deny her entrance seemed unable to believe what he was hearing from the mouth of a young, middle class, lady.

"There is evidence of a general exodus from the room. I can see marks and trails that suggest both doors were used, and that people struggled at the thresholds. I believe the guests tried to flee the scene at this point. They had certainly gone by the time this blood trail was left."

She pointed at the trail under our feet, which she now examined in detail, all the way to the door of the Red Room, then returned.

"Why do you believe that?" asked the Chief.

"Because the only marks in the blood are those of your own men," Freida replied, looking down at her soldier escort, and pointing out the blood on his shoe. He had the decency to look embarrassed, and the Chief's admiration for Freida's skills grew, I believe.

"Where did the blood come from?" I asked.

"Not from our shot victims," replied Freida. "Their blood is generally undisturbed, though there is evidence that someone may have tried to help them. No, I believe some wine glasses were broken near that device." She indicated the Fucking Stocks and the shards of broken glass on the floor nearby. "And if there were people in the device at the time they may have cut their feet."

I nodded, "A deep cut in the sole of the foot can bleed copiously. It could account for all this." I waved my hand at the smear aware that it suggested a further question.

"That is strange," said Alicia. "Why would a guest be bare footed? Was it some sort of game?"

I recalled the scene when I was forcibly engaged to Kate. Mother, Elodie, Gerda, all stark naked and clamped in the device for the entertainment of the men, and some of the women. Bent over so their backs were level with the floor, their heads held back so their mouths sagged open, quims and arse holes on display, unable to prevent their pleasuring, at either end. I suppose it could be counted as a game, if your idea of a good game involved a certain amount of sadism. I decided to say nothing at this stage.

"I can detect four sets of prints here, three small and delicate, and one - the print of a man or a very robust woman," continued Freida. "They pass through this door."

We were now at the door to the Red Room.

"My men were unable to enter, and were loath to break it down," said the Chief. "But, with your permission, Doctor, we will get hammers and see what is within."

I was about to give them permission when Alicia spoke. "Perhaps I can open it," she smiled at us. "There might be a knack to it."

The Chief smiled back. I had seen that look many times. It said, foolish woman, how could you open what my men cannot?

Alicia put her hand on the door handle and turned it then, without any sign of effort, pushed it open. It was clear immediately that a chair had been wedged under the handle to prevent entry. With a screech like a banshee, as the chair legs scraped on the wooden floor, the door reluctantly complied with Alicia's desire for it to be open. The Chief cuffed his officer around the head. Not a hard blow. Just enough to say, you have embarrassed me in front of these civilians.

"Thank you my lady," he smiled at Alicia. "Now please step back while I check the room for dangers."

I wanted to say that the biggest danger was probably standing at his shoulder, but he would not have believed me.

He entered the room then swore, "By all that's holy. Ladies, do not enter here!"

It was too late, Alicia had slid into the room in a single swift sinuous movement, and she then made room for Freida to follow her. They both gasped as I entered the Red Room myself.

In novels I have read, the hero, when confronted with terrible things would cry out 'Oh the horror! The horror!' I had always thought this rather unrealistic but the scene before me made me understand that the novelist had hit some truth.

"Oh!" I cried. "What horror!"

What I saw, that made me cry out, was my brother. He had his back to the wall and had been pinned to the wooden panelling by a sword. The very cutlass I had seen my Father wearing yesterday. Someone had driven it through his body, on the left hand side, near the top of the lung, and with enough force to drive it deep into the wall.

Then, as I realised that nobody else was looking at Karl but upwards, I turned to look. Impaled on two of the Vlad Stakes were Mother and Gerda. The stake had passed through Mother, starting in her anus, and exiting by the shoulder. She had slid down the pole in her struggles and had been stopped only by the small crossbar which was designed to prevent a victim from moving all the way down until their feet touched the ground. Her head had sagged forward and she looked down at us with unseeing eyes, dead.

Gerda's situation was worse, if that was possible. The stake had been inserted into her vagina, and emerged from her mouth, pushing her head back so that she now stared up at the ceiling. In the same way as Mother she had slid down the pole a little and the crossbeam pressed hard against her quim. Both of them must have suffered terribly.

"The horror! The horror!" I cried and Alicia moved to turn me away from the dreadful sight, but not before I had seen Gerda's leg twitch.

"She is still alive!" I almost screamed it, then my training took command. "We must get her down," I instructed.

Clues were forgotten for a while. The Chief got two of his men to lower the pole and we gently removed Gerda from the stake and laid her on a blanket on the floor. Her arms clawed at us blindly as the appalling shaft was removed from her body, but she moved with such little strength that she did no harm to her rescuers. The Chief ordered her to be taken to a bedroom and tended, though everyone knew the situation was hopeless. Alicia came close and whispered to me.

"Her body is broken," she said what I knew to be true. "I will tend to her but I cannot give her life."

I nodded, and shed a tear.

"But," she continued, very quietly, "I can give her un-life, if you wish it. But it must be done now, quickly, before she passes the veil and is lost to us forever."

I was in shock, perhaps I made the wrong choice, I do not know. I still feared that Gerda had caused this tragedy. That she had taken the potion and elixir she stole from me and, like a puckish mischievous spirit, had mixed them into the drink in the punch bowl to make the party go with a bang, then hidden the bottles. That somehow those medicines had caused this tragedy. Part of me was angry with her, if that was what she had done, and wanted to tell her so. And I couldn't do that if she was dead, could I. So I decided the answer to Alicia was yes.

"Do it," I whispered to Alicia. "We will deal with the consequences later."

A scream from Freida distracted me at that moment and I was only dimly aware of the soldiers taking Gerda away with Alicia following close behind. I dashed over to our sleuth to find she was being held tight by my brother. He too was not dead!

He had her arm grasped in a tight grip and was staring at her with unseeing eyes. I honestly think he was so much in shock that he could not recognise her. His grip was more instinct than thought, a desperate holding onto someone who might help him. I examined him carefully. The sword, if completely removed, might precipitate further bleeding. But we needed to get him off the wall, and quickly.

The Chief joined me in trying to prise the sword free of the wooden panneling without moving it around too much. But our strength was inadequate. After a moment a soldier took over and the Chief could return to commanding, a task that - with only one arm - he was better suited to. After a few pulls the sword came free of the wood, and Karl passed out, releasing his grip on Freida.

Another blanket was brought and I guided the soldiers to his room where we laid him on his bed, his shoulder raised with pillows to prevent pressure on the blade. I turned to the soldiers.

"You," I said, with all the authority my upbringing could muster. "Guard this room in case the murderer is still in the house and returns to finish his work."

He nodded and took up position outside the door.

"And you," I said to the other. "Go to the servants quarters and bring back the maidservant Belali. He will need a nurse."

This one saluted me.

For a moment unkind thoughts flitted though my head. My Father had obviously done these evil deeds and not even his high status could protect him from execution for his crimes. All it now needed for me to inherit was for Karl to die. I would become the head of the family. I could take Durishaus and rule here legitimately.

Then my fantasy took flight. I imagined myself and Helena converting Durishaus into a hospital with Una in charge of tonics and Anya in control of a small army of domestics. We would rival the new hospital being built in Vienna or the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh for the quality of our care. I shrugged the thoughts aside as unworthy, beneath me, and set about removing the sword. I would do my very best to save my brother and, if God decided he should die, then so be it. I would not intentionally kill, or neglect, him.

Karl had been lucky. There was considerable damage to the muscles and ligaments around the shoulder but the blade had gone in above the lung. And it had been thrust in with the cutting edge underneath, so Karl's weight had rested on the blunt back edge of the cutlass. I cleaned the tip, then withdrew the blade carefully, making sure no threads of clothing were dragged into the wound. Then I packed the entry and exit wounds. Karl's breathing settled once the blade was out, and a few minutes later I became aware of a slender black girl silently watching me with wide eyes.

I measured out a suitable dose of laudanum and between us we lifted him up, gave him the soporific, and gently laid him back down. The girl was stronger than I expected and seemed competent. Many a girl would have fainted at the sight of a medical procedure. I felt confident leaving her in charge of my brother's care.

"Keep his brow cool," I told her. "If he wakes come and get me. I must return to the Red Room to help with the investigation. Do you understand?"

She nodded, very serious, and pulled up a chair next to Karl's bed. I made haste back to the room of death.

When I arrived I discovered that Mother's body had been removed and Freida was deep in conversation with the Chief. He waved me over.

"Your friend here has sharp eyes," he said. "There is much we now understand about the events. Companion, tell the Doctor what you have told me."

"Someone," started Freida. "Brought the three women here after the events in the Ballroom."

"Three women?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied. "Your mother, your sister-in-law, and your sister, I believe."

"Go on, please," I encouraged her. Better to learn the truth, whatever darkness it might reveal.

"Whoever did this locked the door, see the key is still in the keyhole. And this device was used to place your mother onto the spike," said Freida.

She pointed at a small trolley that I had never paid much attention to in the past. It was like one of those exercise boxes with a strong wooden frame and a padded leather top but instead of being tall, for vaulting over, this was squat and low and provided with four wheels. Freida showed how the device could be used to hold a victim, there were four straps for arms and legs.

My blood ran cold. This was clearly an executioner's aid. You place the victim face down on the device, secure their limbs so they cannot move, line it up with the impaling pole, and push hard. The box was designed to present the body at the right height for the pole to enter them and, without it, it would take at least two strong men to push a victim onto the spike. More if they struggled. This prevented the victim from avoiding their fate by twisting or turning. Once they were on the spike they would become weak with pain and shock and the straps could be removed. Then you would just have to swing the pole upright to complete the execution.

"The spike is counterbalanced but still would need considerable strength to lift it. Once it was upright, I fear, gravity would do the rest."

I felt faint. Freida was obviously avoiding saying who she believed was the perpetrator but every new surmise confirmed to me it was my Father. My Father, out of control, and giving vent to his violent origins.

"I believe your brother then broke into the room, see the latch of the door lock is snapped. He did this, I would guess, as the villain was preparing your sister-in-law for impalement and there was an altercation during which your sister, Elodie, was able to escape. Her steps are here and here."

I looked at the marks in the blood on the floor. I couldn't see the clues myself but it made sense if Elodie had been in the coach of the Abbot of Gelenberg.

"I believe your brother was trying to save his wife," said Freida, quietly. "But lost the fight and ended as we found him." She indicated the hole in the panelling where the sword had pierced it, and the smear of blood that trickled to the floor.

"It was at this point that the chair was placed to hold the door closed. The murderer did not want further interruptions, though I believe that by that time the house was mostly empty of guests."

"We need to question the servants," said the Chief, who up until now had listened in silence. "They may be able to tell us more."

"Poor Gerda was impaled, I believe, in full view of her husband," continued Freida. "You may be able to say if he was still conscious at that time. She must have been terrified, she had seen her mother-in-law succumb to the same fate, though it may have been some consolation to her that her husband had tried to protect her. Then the murderer smoked a cigar, see the ash has fallen three times, indicating perhaps five minutes while he watched the two women in their death throes."

The history of violence, that I now knew was a part of our families heritage, suddenly loomed close and became very real.

"He cast the remains of the cigar into the corner, see here it is. And went from here, by the impaling poles, to here." She walked across the long room to the great desk. Some of the drawers were open.

"Do you know, Damion," she asked me. "What was in these drawers?"

I am hopeless at lying, the best I can do is to try to leave pertinent information out of my replies. That wasn't going to work here. "That drawer had deeds and property details," I replied. "And that secret cupboard had bags of coin, my Father's hoard of money."

"Who would know this?" the Chief retorted. "And more significantly, who would know how to open this secret panel behind which the money was stored?"

"I, my Father, and my brother know the workings of this desk." I replied. An assumption. I believed that Karl, being the firstborn, would have been taught the secrets of the desk. "Mother had nothing to do with our family businesses, and Gerda was only just beginning her training on house management."

I did not mention the sort of training that Gerda had been receiving in case the Chief was a prudish man.

"You say nothing about your sister," said the Chief. "Could it be that she was removed by the Abbot to prevent her arrest for this crime.?"

I felt there were flaws of logic in his accusation but it was Freida who gave them voice, "I know Elodie, her feet are tiny, they do not match the heavy footprints. She is a dilettante, without the strength to push a blade clear through a man and into the wood panneling. Or to ram a body onto the Vlad Pole to start the impalement, and lift it on its journey to vertical."

The Chief looked at me for confirmation.

"All that is true," I replied. "The Abbot may have dark things said about him, but they do not include sheltering a murderer. No, his weakness, if the tales are true, is for nubile young women."

As I said this a cold chill went down my back. Poor Elodie. What if the Abbot was going to take advantage of her situation?

"Then the only member of your close family to be unaccounted for is your Father," said the Chief, sternly.

"Perhaps he went in pursuit of the murderer," I suggested, knowing I had not hit the mark.

"I think that unlikely," replied the Chief. His expression was of a man who was making sense of this chaos, narrowing down the possibilities to just one person who could be the culprit.

"The naked footmarks go from here to the corner of the room," said Freida. "The murderer collected things from this desk and went there!"

The corner of the room was occupied by a giant Iron Maiden, standing flush against the wall, its impassive face staring down at us. Another instrument of torture. Freida was right, the bloody footprints led up to the evil thing.

"Surely the murderer did not commit suicide," I suggested.

"I think not," replied Freida. "I can imagine sudden remorse on realising what you have done, which might lead to taking your own life, but not that you would collect documents and money to take with you to death."

It was the Chief who voiced what we were thinking. "An escape route," he snarled, calling in one of his men.

The Trooper lifted the latches and opened the Iron Maiden. Instead of spikes on the inside there was a dark archway, a secret passage. Freida lit a small lantern she had brought with her, the soldiers drew their swords, and the five of us sallied forth to pursue the trail.

At least that explained why there was no murderer in this room. A locked room, with victims but no murderer, must have alerted Freida at the start to the possibility of a secret exit. We entered the walls of Durishaus. I was nervous, though logic suggested that the murderer, I still could not bring myself to say my Father, had taken this path at least two hours ago. He must be some distance away by now, unless he was hiding in some chamber, waiting for the soldiers to leave.

Along a passageway and down two flights of stairs there was a chamber but it held no murderer. Strangely clean and well maintained it contained equipment and clothing. Freida was again in her element and examined all before declaring, "Our murderer stopped here, briefly. This appears to be a supply of equipment for a quick escape. And there are hangers here, without clothes, and spaces amongst the equipment that suggests he packed for a long journey overland. With the money he took he could, I presume, hire or buy a horse once he is away from Carlsbruck, and less likely to be recognised."

"If he took the bags of gold we had stored in the desk he could afford to buy a fiefdom," I told them.

We pushed on and followed the tunnel that dipped in a manner that suggested we were out of the house and in the grounds before ancient steps brought us up, to a dead end.

"Cast about," said Freida. "There must be a switch or lever."

We looked, but of course it was Freida who found the mechanism and, with a rumble of stone we became aware we were at the threshold of a larger chamber. Dimly lit by moon and stars. I peered into the gloom and staggered back. There was a menacing figure standing shrouded in shadow.

Freida held her lantern high and the two soldiers pushed past me, swords ready. But the menacing figure did not flinch. Mainly because it was carved from stone. We had emerged in our family mausoleum and the figure was a statue of one of my forbears. The iron gate from the building into the estate was wide open and here the chase ended for us sleuths. Even Freida could not track subtle signs in the dark.

We walked around to the main door, surprising the guards there who wondered where we had come from.

"As soon as it is light I will send out teams to search for your father, Herr Doctor," said the Chief. "I believe he is the one who has brought so much sadness to your family, and if he is innocent, then he is a witness to the events. Either way, he must be found."

When we entered the house a guard ran up to the Chief and spoke quietly.

"Herr Doctor," said the Chief. "I regret to say that your sister-in-law has succumbed to her injuries. The Countess was with her to the end. She did not die alone, if that is any consolation."

My feelings for Gerda were varied, and all tumbled together in my mind. I was sorry that this woman, who in a loving marriage might have made a good life for herself. Who was forced to seek affection by flirting. But I was silently furious that she might have caused this murder and mayhem. Then I realised that some of my anger towards her was my mind displacing it from the true target, myself. I had created the drugs that, in combination, had possibly sparked these terrible events. It may be that I bore a lot of the blame.

I shook my head to displace these dark thoughts which I think my companions took as grief over the loss of Mother and Gerda. They stood by whilst I composed myself.

"I must go to see to my brother," I told the Chief and Freida. "Let me know, if I am permitted, the results of any investigations while I am away. I will return soon."

The Chief led Freida away, the pair in animated discussions about organising search parties, interviewing witnesses and following up leads. By the end of the day, I speculated, Freida will have achieved the status of consulting detective. The start of a profitable relationship with the official police force. Perhaps, in the future, all police forces will have a special group of trained detectives to deal with more complicated crimes.

Karl was sleeping quietly when I returned to his room. The black girl quickly stood up and moved to stand by the wall. She was dressed as a housemaid but her hair was strangly woven close to her head in a kind of braids, it made her look very exotic. She looked frightened, as if she had been caught in a forbidden act, though she was doing exactly what I had instructed her, tending my brother. I tried to remember her name.

"Belali," I said. "You are no use over there. Please stay close and help me."

She looked at me with a slightly shocked expression. As a slave she was presumably unused to the word please. And, as the lowest in rank of the servants, probably unused to being given any responsibility.

"Let us check his wound," I said. "How has he been?"

She gave no answer, just moved her arms to make a gesture of sleep. Was she too scared to speak?

"Come," I said, a little more forcibly. "You can speak to me, I will not chastise you for it."

She shook her head and then pointed to her mouth. I approached her and she opened her mouth wide. She had no tongue. It had been removed, probably many years ago. A punishment, possibly, for a slave who talked too much. The only good aspect of the horrible crime was that it had been skilfully done, the wound had healed well.

"I am so sorry," I told her. "I did not understand. Forgive me. Nobody had told me of your affliction."

She waved her arms in a gesture that suggested she appreciated my apology. Her gestures were precise and powerfully evoked ideas. Was this a mode of speech? Could we understand each other if I learned them? There was no time now to embark on this skill but I resolved to do so for there seemed much value in it.

"I'm going to look at his wound," I said. "Let us sit him up against the pillows."

Together we worked on him. The wounds had leaked a little, as was to be expected. I removed the wadding and smelled it. Belali looked puzzled and pointed at the wadding, then touched her nose.

"I am trying to detect the smell of infection," I told her, interested she was wanting to learn. "That is our greatest danger here, for once it takes hold there is little anyone can do. It would be down to the strength of my brother's body."

I could not detect any infection and mouthed a silent thank you to the Almighty. Then I re-dressed the wound. I was going to need more dressing materials, and for that I would need to return home, but I was concerned that Karl felt quite cold. Shock could kill a man just as effectively as any illness. I mentioned this to Belali who, tentatively, touched his flesh. Then she stripped her clothes off with no sign of embarrassment.

To be continued...