Виктория Холт - The Judas kiss

I did follow her.

"You could call yourself something else," suggested Daisy. "I reckon that would be best."

"You're right. It is clever of you to have thought of this."

"When they was over here you came to the Grange, didn't you. Some of them saw you. Well if they was to see you again and heard you was Philippa Ewell, they'd remember right away. Twelve you was then. You're different now ... five years older... . And that makes a lot of difference. If you called yourself something else, they'd never guess who you were."

"I tell you what I'll do. I'll call myself by my mother's name before she was married. That was Ayres. I'll be Philippa Ayres."

"There's still the Philippa."

"Well, what about Anne Ayres? Anne is my second name."

"That sounds all right to me. Nobody's going to compare Anne Ayres with Philippa Ewell if you ask me."

That day when I was preparing my clothes for departure I came across the spectacles with the blank glass in them which Miss Elton had procured for me when we were talking about my seeking a post. I put them on. They certainly were effective. Then I took my rather heavy hair and pulled it back from my forehead. I screwed it into a bun on the top of my head. The effect was startling. I really did look like another person.

When Daisy came to see me I received her wearing the glasses and my new hairstyle. She stared at me, not recognizing me for a few moments.

"Oh, Miss Pip," she cried. "You look so funny. Not like you at all."

"It's my disguise, Daisy."

"You're not going to travel like that, are you?"

"No, but I shall take the glasses with me for use if the need arises."

The time was passing now. We were ready to leave—and so I set out for Conrad's country with Daisy as my guide.

Our journey was long but never tedious, for I was in a state of great excitement from the outset. It was the most wonderful piece of luck that Daisy had come to England at this time. She was a very resourceful young woman and liked to imagine herself the seasoned traveller.

I had insisted that we travel first-class and that I should pay for Daisy as she was going to be my companion and guide. As we took the train to Harwich and I sat back in the first compartment looking at a very complacent Daisy, I knew that Cousin Arthur had been right when he had said this was the best thing I could do. I was starting a new life and I was glad to escape from the last weeks which had become almost intolerable.

I was convinced that from now on my life would be adventurous. I had an important project in mind and I felt as though I were setting out to seek my fortune.

The crossing from Harwich to the Hook of Holland was uneventful, and after staying the night at an inn we boarded a train and travelled for miles across the flattest country I have ever seen.

"Never mind," said Daisy, "you'll have mountains and forests enough when you get to Bruxenstein. Perhaps you'll be wishing for a bit of flat there."

"I can't wait to arrive," I said.

"You've got a long way to go yet, Miss Pip."

How right she was! Once again I had reason to be grateful to Cousin Arthur, who had made the arrangements for us with a company in London that looked after such matters, so we knew exactly which way we had to go. We were to spend a night at Utrecht before taking the train to Bavaria, and the journey was beginning to be so interesting that had I not been so eager to reach my destination, I should have liked to linger longer over every detail of it.

The first-class carriages had four seats in front and four behind, and each carriage was subdivided into two sections by a central door, just as in our first-class carriages at home. But there was a more formal atmosphere here. One was conscious of a display of discipline, and the attendants wore cocked hats and carried swords so that they looked almost military.

"We're a bit like that in Bruxenstein," Daisy explained. "All that clicking heels and bowing from the waist ... It sometimes makes me want to laugh."

At Arnheim two men and a woman joined our carriage. They looked pleasant and smiled in our direction. I explained that we were English, and they thereupon began to talk to us in our own tongue although they only had a fair command of it, and my German, thanks to Miss Elton and my early grounding, was better than their English.

Were we going beyond Utrecht, they wanted to know? I told them we were travelling to Bruxenstein.

"Is that indeed so," said the man. "Interesting place, Bruxenstein ... at the moment."

"Why do you say at the moment?" I asked. "Is there some reason why it is now so?"

"Things have been a little ... what do you call it... in the boiling pot since the death of the Baron Rudolph."

My heart began to beat faster. Daisy sat demurely beside me, like the quiet little maid she had said everyone would think she was, because she looked the part and I looked like the mistress.

"Wasn't there some scandal—?" I began.

"Scandal indeed. He was shot dead in his hunting lodge. There was a woman with him and she was killed too."

"I heard of it."

"So the news travelled to England."

The woman said, "That was probably because the lady in the case was English."

"That may be," said the man, "but in any case the country has been a little uneasy since."

"Mind you," put in the other man, "there is always something going on in these little states. It's time they were all joined up and became part of the Germanic Empire."

"Being a Prussian, you would say that, Otto," said the other with a smile.

"Do you know what really happened about this shooting matter?" I asked.

"No-one really knows, but one can guess. There are theories . .. many of them. Perhaps the lady had another lover who was jealous. That's one of the theories. But I don't think that's the answer. No. Someone did not want Rudolph ruling over the province, so that person—or persons —put a bullet through him. Probably someone from the other side."

"You mean he has a rival?"

"There is always someone next in the line of succession. There's this nephew of the reigning duke. What's his name, Otto?"

"Baron Sigmund."

"Yes, son of a younger brother of the Grand Duke. Isn't that so?"

"Exactly. Some seem to think he'd suit the part better and that it is not such a bad thing that Rudolph is out of the way."

"Murder is rather a drastic way of settling these matters!" I said.

"Still," went on Otto, "it is better that one—or two-should die than that thousands should be submitted to tyranny."

"Was this Rudolph a tyrant, then?"

"Far from it. I've heard that he was something of a sybarite, a young man too fond of pleasure to make a good ruler. That kind always get surrounded by the wrong people who rule for them. The present Grand Duke has been a good ruler. It's a pity he's so old. I gather he was old when Rudolph was born. He married twice, the first time being unfruitful. His brother was killed fighting in one of the rebellions or wars ... and that left Sigmund heir after Rudolph."

"You know a great deal about the family."

"It's common knowledge. It's a small principality—or dukedom rather—and the royal family lives close to the people. Different from in your country, Miss er ..."

I hesitated and then said quickly, "Ayres. Anne Ayres."

"Very different, Miss Ayres, although I suppose your Queen's private life is not exactly a closed book to your people."

"It is so exemplary," I replied, "that there is no need for it to be. If there are differences and family friction, I suppose there would be a tendency to keep that secret."

"How right you are! And I daresay there is very much the people of Bruxenstein do not know about their ruling family. Do you intend to spend any time in Utrecht?"

"Only an hour or so ... possibly a morning ... as we have to wait for trains."

"You'll enjoy it. It's one of the most interesting of the Dutch cities, I always thought. Tremendous history. The Romans built a fortress there to guard the river, one of the branches of the Rhine, you know, where it is joined by the Vecht. You must see the remains of the great cathedral ..."

I was scarcely listening. My thoughts were with Francine lying dead on that bed in the hunting lodge.

We said goodbye to our travelling companions at Utrecht and continued our journey, and as we crossed the border into Germany my excitement increased. Those fir-covered mountains, those little streams, the glorious river with its castles looking down almost scornfully, it seemed, on the scene below, the little villages which seemed to have come straight out of stories by the brothers Grimm which Miss Elton used to read to us in the original ... all this seemed to me the stuff of legend. This was the land of goblins and elves, of trolls and giants, of mountain kings and snow queens and children lost in enchanted woods where wolves roamed and there were gingerbread houses. It was the land of the Norse gods—Odin, Thor and Baldur the beautiful and mischievous Loki. It was in the air ... I could sense it—in Hollenthal Gorge, called the Valley of Hell, in the glorious forests of the Schwarzwald, the Thuringian Wald, and the Odenwald ... vine-covered hill slopes. There were miles and miles of trees—oak, beeches, but mainly the firs and pines of the forest. It was the romantic land—Conrad's land, and the farther I penetrated, the more I thought of him.

The journey had taken us several days, as it had been the advice of those who planned it that we should take it comfortably. I realized that they were right, and although I longed to be in Bruxenstein where I was beginning to believe the answer to the mystery would be found, I did feel that I was getting an understanding of the country and even the people, through those I met on the journey.

In due course we arrived at the town of Bruxburg which was, I gathered, the capital city of Bruxenstein, and we were able to take a trap out to the cottage which was the home of Daisy and Hans, and in this we rode through the town. It was quite large, but on that occasion I saw very little of it beyond the square with the town hall and a few impressive buildings. But I noticed immediately the castle on the incline presiding, as it were, over the town, and looking very much like those I had seen throughout our journey through the country. It looked impressive and very beautiful, I thought, with its towers and grey stone walls.

"We're right below it," said Daisy. "It's easy to get up to the slosh. There's a road runs from our cottage right up to it."

"Daisy," I said, "what are you going to tell Hans about me?"

"About you! What do you mean?"

"He'll know me."

"I shouldn't think so."

"But don't you think some of the servants ... when they come back from the Grange ... ?"

"They'll never recognize you now. You've changed a lot from that little twelve-year-old. I'll tell Hans all about it and we'll explain that as your name is Ewell and there was that scandal about your sister, you've decided to call yourself Anne Ayres. Hans will see the point. We'll let it be known that you came out with me. Miss Ayres is someone I knew in England and as she was coming out I said why didn't she stay. A sort of paying guest, you see."

So she lulled my fears.

The trap deposited us with our luggage—mostly mine—at the cottage, and Hans came out to meet us. He and Daisy were immediately caught up in a delighted embrace; then he turned to greet me. I remembered him well. He clicked his heels and bowed while Daisy began explaining the situation to him in rather a breathless manner. I was going to be their paying guest until I decided what to do. I wanted to see something of the country. She knew it was all right. And how was her darling little Hans?

Little Hans was well. Frau Wurtzer had looked after him well and Hans had seen him almost every day while Daisy had been away.

"I'll be off first thing in the morning to get that young fellow," said Daisy.

I went into the cottage, which was spotlessly clean. I later discovered that there were two bedrooms and a sort of boxroom upstairs and two downstairs with a kitchen. It was delightfully fresh and I could smell the pines of the nearby forest.

Hans welcomed me warmly and I wondered whether this was due to natural politeness or whether in fact he resented my presence in this rather small house.