Gretel felt more than a little cross with herself. She had been in some narrow scrapes recently, and many of them had involved no small degree of embarrassment and humiliation. There were, of course, dangers that went with her chosen profession, and these she accepted. What rankled, however, what was currently causing her to grind her teeth and utter silent oaths, was the undignified manner in which she seemed destined to depart this world and enter the next. For a start, there were her clothes.
True, her underwear was of good quality. And her own dress and cape, while not at the cutting edge of the fashion of the day, were well tailored and of respectable provenance. The red pinafore was a different matter entirely, and had no doubt come from some haggard creature who had toiled her life away in a field somewhere. Gretel could still smell the turnips. The furry boots were abominable and made her feet look several sizes larger than they really were. And the hat. The dreadful fur of some low-living vermin, at best Russian polecat, or quite possibly Mongolian rat, made her look like something in disguise. Even now it was slipping ever further down over her eyes, giving her a pitifully dim-witted appearance. She was too intent on clutching tight to the bag containing Mippin to risk taking the loathsome thing off and flinging it at her would-be murderer.
And then there was the dangling. Snagged and hanging, slowly swinging, she was unable to protect herself or improve her circumstances in any way. And to cap it all, she was to be dispatched by the vile and amoral Inge Peterson. Gretel felt fury rising within her and marshaled it, determined not to let her soon-to-be murderess detect just how utterly beaten she felt.
“I see you have got what you came for,” she called down to Inge.
“And more besides.” She laughed up at Gretel, enjoying her discomfort. “You don’t look so high and mighty now, Fraulein Detective. What, no clever remarks? Proper betwattled, you are! No judgments to make on a poor trug like me? Me being the one holding the gun that is pointing at you, mind.”
“There is no harsher judge of a person than one’s own conscience, I believe.”
“A pox on conscience! Yours, mine, or any cully else’s. A body does what a body needs to do to survive in this world, no more, no less. The strong takes from the weak, the clever from the jolter heads.” She raised her gun higher, putting her eye to the sights.
Gretel didn’t have to bother closing her eyes, as her hat finally descended sufficiently to entirely obscure her vision. This being the case, she had only a confusion of sounds to tell her what was happening.
There was first a swift whooshing noise, followed by a woman’s cry, and the sound of a large gun being fired. Shot blasted into the stone beside Gretel, but none struck her. After an in-breath of silence, the hordes of Hades appeared to be let loose, such was the volume of chaotic cries, shouting and bellowing. Voices came from all sides, as below her a battle raged, between whom she could not tell. Muskets fired. Swords clashed upon swords. Men yelled and shrieked as targets were missed or found. The fighting continued at a fever pitch for what seemed to Gretel to be hours, but was more likely only a matter of some minutes. At last, calm returned, the sounds of the struggle ceased, and orders were given by unseen soldiers to stand down.
Desperate to know what was going on and whether or not she was still in peril, Gretel struggled to reach up and push the wretched headgear from her eyes. When she did so, the first thing she saw, smiling up at her, was the almost irritatingly handsome face of Uber General Ferdinand von Ferdinand. Behind him his men tended the wounded, secured prisoners, and helped to right the toppled giant. Inge, an arrow in her shoulder, had her feet and hands bound before being carried away. Gretel instinctively pulled in her stomach and lifted her chin. The felt of her pinafore had stretched under her weight, so that she now twisted as she dangled, spinning slowly and solemnly beneath the grinning gargoyle.
“Good morning, Fraulein Gretel.” The general was unable to keep the laughter out of his voice. “I am pleased to find you unharmed.”
“Nothing damaged except my pride,” she assured him.
She noticed Roland among the troops and felt a tiny twinge of admiration for the young man, who had risen to the challenge and successfully completed his difficult mission. This was swiftly followed by a slightly bigger twinge of self-satisfaction, as she realized that, ultimately, it was because of her that General von Ferdinand had summoned his men, left his duties at the Schloss, ridden hell-for-leather for many leagues, and battled with a dangerous band of brigands in order to rescue her.
Gretel wasn’t one to read things into things, but she couldn’t help feeling such effort must surely denote a certain amount of keenness for her on the general’s part.
“How fortunate for you,” Ferdinand called up, “that my men and I were on maneuvers in the area.”
“Ah. Fortunate indeed,” said Gretel, somewhat crestfallen.
“And more fortunate still that we happened upon young Roland Hund, a mile or so from an inn, lying in a ditch where he had been thrown from his horse.”
“Ah. Indeed,” said Gretel, her crest falling further.
“And such amazing good fortune continued to send us here at the very moment you were about to be shot, enabling us to capture the nefarious Inge Peterson in the act of one of her misdeeds, while almost inadvertently saving your life.”
“Again, ah,” said Gretel, crest now completely flattened.
The giant dusted himself off and set about catching any cats that were still within reach.
“Help me, oh pleathe!” he begged the soldiers. “Help me find my darlingth!”
“Your darlingth?” Gretel asked.
The giant, pulling himself up to his full height, was at least able to look Gretel in the eye as he spoke.
“Oh yeth, they are my tholace, my greatetht joy in life.”
“But I thought, I mean, I’d heard . . .”
The giant shook his great head.
“I admit it, I did a terrible thing. When firtht I thought out the wonderful creatureth, it wath for an entirely different reathon. There were thome whothe liveth were taken for thuch thilly, thallow endth. But I was dethperate, I was obthethed, in love to the point of madneth. I would have done anything to keep that love.”
“Johanna?”
He nodded. “But it wath not to be. You cannot win a heart with treathureth, however prethiouth they might be.” He stooped to pick up a small black cat, tenderly cradled it, cooed at it softly. When he looked at Gretel again there were tears in his eyes. “You thee,” he said, “I found love in the motht unexthpected of platheth. The tiny creatureth have thown me how to truly open my heart, to thomething fragile and beautiful, and tho affecthionate.” He held the slightly nervous cat high. “Look,” he said, “who could look upon thuch a dear thing and not feel moved?”
It was at this point that Gretel remembered her own precious cargo. She stuffed her hand into the canvas bag.
“Mippin? Are you still with us?”
There was a purr and a meow that suggested he was. Relieved, Gretel called down to General von Ferdinand.
“If you would be so kind,” she said, “I would very much like to come down from here.”
He smiled up at her. “But of course, fraulein.”
He signaled to his sergeant and a wagon was brought, and men instructed to assist Gretel in her descent. At last she came to stand on firm ground once more. She straightened her hat, dusted down her clothes, and adopted a brisk and confident manner in the hope it might make her feel better, even if it fooled no one.
“So, Herr General, a good day for you, is it not? An infamous criminal in your custody, caught in the very act of attempting murder. Herr Giant’s fortune and safety restored. And, crucially, your worries concerning Princess Charlotte at an end.”
“Really? Can we be certain of this?”
“Oh, I think so. Excuse me just one moment, please.” She beckoned Roland and then led him to a quiet corner.
“Fraulein Gretel, I am so relieved to see you well. When I was thrown from that wild horse I feared—”
“Yes, yes, never mind that now. All’s well that ends well, etcetera, etcetera. But you haven’t quite completed all that is required of you.”
“I have not?”
“It is vital—well, vital for me, at any rate—that you convince the general that you have no romantic intentions toward Princess Charlotte, and that you will never so much as attempt to contact her again.” Gretel had to be certain she could convince all and everyone that she had saved the royal family from the embarrassment of having a peasant make off with one of their princesses. Her liberty, and quite possibly her life, depended upon it.
“But, fraulein, my circumstances are unchanged. I still find myself in no position to spurn the princess. You know the condition of my family’s fortune . . .”
“Fortune,” said Gretel, undoing the pearl necklace and slipping it from her throat, “favors the brave.” She took his hand and placed the pearls in his palm, quelling a reflex that would ordinarily cause her fingers to clutch at such fabulous jewels. Giving them up was no easy thing for her.
Roland gasped. “Oh! Never have I seen such a thing!”
“They are rather beautiful. I was quite tempted to keep them myself—I’ve a fabulous ivory evening gown they would have accessorized to perfection.”
“But”—he glanced nervously about him—“they belong to the giant, do they not?”
“He would not begrudge securing happiness for Johanna, I think. Not now.” She nodded in the direction of the mammoth creature, who was happily engaged in coaxing a willing herd of cats back into his castle, chatting away to a bemused soldier about his plans for a roof terrace for his beloved pets.
Roland beamed at Gretel.
“I will give Herr General my promise, fraulein, gladly. Oh, I cannot wait to see Johanna again, and to tell her our good fortune. And it is all thanks to you.”
“Nonsense. If you hadn’t fallen in that ditch . . .” She smiled at him. “I think you’d better return in the trap with us. Just to be on the safe side. And if I were you, I’d be thinking about having one of those set in an engagement ring,” she said, closing his fingers around the pearls.
She was on the point of gaining assurances from General von Ferdinand that all possible kidnapping charges against her would now be dropped, when the peace was broken by sudden ferocious cries and the clatter of galloping hooves.
“Charge!” screamed Hans as he thundered into view, standing in the cart, reins in one hand, whip held high in the other, hair wild and eyes wilder, like some portly Bavarian Boudicca, the bay mare’s exceptional speed no doubt toffee-induced. He tore through the assembled company and the soldiers, their guard down, scattered. There were shouts and wails as the bizarre chariot and its frenzied driver raced past the entrance of the cave and came to a skidding halt beneath the gargoyle from which Gretel had recently been rescued. The mare stopped so abruptly that Hans was pitched forward, turning one complete somersault over her broad rump and coming to rest in a bruised and ungainly heap at General von Ferdinand’s feet. Several soldiers sprang forward, swords drawn. Hans struggled to right himself, still hampered by the ill-fitting greatcoat. When at last he took in the situation, the swords at his throat, the lack of battle, and his sister blithely watching him from the safety of terra firma, an expression of exasperation rearranged his features.
“Hell’s teeth, Gretel. You might have waited for me,” he said before slumping backward, a mixture of exertion, exhilaration, and exhaustion all at once robbing him of consciousness.
General von Ferdinand stepped closer to Gretel. Unsettlingly close, she felt. Yet again she found herself next to the most appealing man to have crossed her path in a very long time. A man, importantly, who was interested in her.
“I had been wondering,” Ferdinand said, “how it was you came to embark upon a mission so filled with risk and danger. I now see that you were ably assisted . . .”
“Hans tries his best,” Gretel snapped. She was well aware of her brother’s shortcomings, but that didn’t mean she wanted other people pointing them out.
“Of course, of course,” Ferdinand agreed. “In any event, as we have established, fortune saw to it that I myself was able to be close at hand when your need was greatest.”
“I had everything under complete control.”
“Indeed. The ruse of giving your adversaries false hope of triumph by suspending yourself from a gargoyle, apparently helpless and hopeless, offering yourself, as it were, for target practice, was a stroke of unrivaled genius. I commend the originality of your tactics.”
“Had I not done so, you would not have found yourself in the position of claiming the day, Herr General. While one of the most wanted criminals in Bavaria made off with the fabled treasure of Herr Giant, you would have been happily engaged in, what was it you called them . . . maneuvers?”
Ferdinand studied Gretel’s expression. Whether he was convinced by her argument or by the look of mounting fury he saw there she could not tell. All at once, though, he seemed to sense he was pushing her too far. He smiled, not laughing at her this time, but a genuine, warm smile.
“Forgive me, fraulein. Too many hours spent in the company of rough men have eroded my manners. I am, of course, grateful for your considerable efforts.”
“I take it, then, that with all matters so successfully resolved—not least the fact that Roland is set to marry his true sweetheart, Johanna—”
“Indeed?”
“Had I not mentioned it? Yes, due to a sudden change in his fortunes, for which I lay claim to playing some small part,” she explained, thinking briefly but wistfully of the pearls, “he will be happily ensconced matrimonially and has no further interest in, shall we say, anyone else?”
“I am delighted to hear it and will offer him my congratulations.”
“And so there will be no further mention made of any kidnapping?”
“Not one word.”
“And that all charges against myself and my brother in regards to the Muller and Bechstein murders will be dropped?”
“I will personally contact the kingsmen in Bad am Zee and Gesternstadt. We have Inge Peterson, caught in the act of robbery and attempted murder. And we have her men, who, I’ll wager, will easily be persuaded to tell us everything we need to know.”
“I dare say Herr Schmerz will be happy to help.”
“I dare say.”
They fell to silence. Around them soldiers bustled about their business, shifting bodies and debris, securing suspects, and assisting in the repair of the giant’s front door. Hans could be heard snoring. In that curious scene, amid such uninspiring activity, a small but highly charged moment existed between Gretel and Ferdinand. He reached forward and pushed a stray lock of hair from her brow. Gretel’s eyes sparkled. Sadly, the effect was entirely lost on Ferdinand as her bushy hat slipped slowly down once more to its preferred position.
“Allow me to escort you back to Gesternstadt,” he said. “And then, when you are rested, perhaps we might dine together somewhere?”
“A tempting offer, Herr General,” said Gretel, pushing up the hat and squinting out from beneath it. “But first, I have to see a woman about a cat.”
By the time Gretel arrived at the house of Frau Hapsburg, the sun was shining and she had been able to abandon her hat and pinafore. Her dress was filthy, her hair in what was fast becoming its usual state of chaos. The journey back to Gesternstadt had been slow and uncomfortable, but she had found the time passed quickly enough as her thoughts wandered lightly between General von Ferdinand, the thought of the comforts of home—including some of Hans’s cooking—and the prospect of at last getting fully and quite possibly lavishly paid.
The little garden was at its best under the cheery sun, flowers in full bloom, birds and butterflies flitting contentedly. Even Gretel, ordinarily immune to such sentimental delights, allowed herself to enjoy them, putting her altered sensibilities down to having spent the past few days in such cold and bleak environments. Not even the proliferation of cats among the plants could dent her ebullient mood. The front door of the house was open, but there was no sign of Frau Hapsburg.
“Hello?” Gretel called, peering inside. “Anybody home? Frau Hapsburg, are you there?” Receiving no reply, she crossed the threshold and walked down the hall. More cats appeared, winding themselves around her skirts, regarding her with suspicious eyes. In her canvas bag, Mippin wriggled, as if sensing he was home. Gretel made her way into the sitting room she had been taken to on her first visit. She found Frau Hapsburg, dozing peacefully in her enormous winged armchair, her precious pets all around her, their purring chorus a perfect lullaby for her. Gretel leaned forward and tapped the old woman’s arm.
“Frau Hapsburg, it is I, Gretel.”
“What? Oh!” She came to in an instant. “Fraulein Gretel, what news do you have? What have you come to tell me?” she asked, shaking her head, repositioning her glasses, and sitting upright, dislodging several cats in her eagerness to wake up.
Gretel looked at her and hesitated. When she had been given the task of retrieving the missing pets, she had done so despite her strong dislike of cats. While she still had no personal affection for the creatures, she did now see that they had some value, to some people. To the lost and the lonely they could indeed, as Herr Giant had so eloquently put it, provide tholathe.
She cleared her throat, annoyed at finding herself a little choked and teary.
“I do indeed have news. I must warn you, however, that some of it is sad.” She paused, giving Frau Hapsburg a moment to prepare herself. “It is with regret I must inform you that Lexxie and Floribunda will not be returning home.”
“Not?” she repeated in a tiny voice. “You are certain? You searched thoroughly?”
“I did.”
“You checked against the descriptions I gave you?”
“To the letter.”
“Tortoiseshell? Ginger with white paws?”
“No tortoiseshell cats to be found. None ginger with white paws.”
Frau Hapsburg struggled to retain control of her emotions. Gretel sensed sobs were seconds away.
“I do, however,” she went on quickly, “have some good news. Some very good news.” She reached inside the bag. “There is somebody here I believe will be extremely pleased to find himself home.” She lifted out Mippin. He was still sleepy, and clinging in a kittenish way to the fluffy patchwork cushion as though he would sooner die than give it up. Gretel handed him, still atop the cushion, to a now beaming Frau Hapsburg.
“Mippin! Oh my darling little Mippin!” she cried, setting the cushion on her lap and showering the slightly dazed cat in happy tears and kisses.
Gretel stepped back, admitting to herself that there was undoubtedly satisfaction to be had in a job well done. There was something inescapably heartwarming about seeing a kind old woman reunited with her beloved pet. And the two of them did indeed make an appealing picture, in the big armchair, the sunlight streaming through the window, lighting up Mippin’s fine silver tabby coat, and making the colors of the furry patchwork cushion gleam. Gretel felt her heart miss a beat. The colors did most certainly gleam. Gorgeous, rich patches of color of the kind only to be found in nature. The coppers, bronzes, and deep browns of tortoiseshell. The burnished gold of ginger, set off to best advantage with tiny patches of white.
Two days later, Gretel lay on her daybed, drifting blissfully between sleep and consciousness. On her return she had spent several hours at Madame Renoir’s having essential repair work done, followed by a strict regime of rest and feeding, which was likely to continue for some time to come. She had surprised herself by not accepting General von Ferdinand’s offer of dinner. A little too soon, she had felt. A little too close to the exhausting events of the preceding days. Better to delay, just a smidgen. Better to take time to fully recover from the draining exertions her work had placed upon her. And, after all, better not to appear too keen.
She stretched out with a contented sigh. From the kitchen there came sounds of Hans humming to himself, and the aroma of a hearty lunch being prepared. Gretel had played out the events at the giant’s castle many times in her mind, and particularly enjoyed coming to the part where Frau Hapsburg willingly handed over a large bundle of notes in settlement of her account. Although, naturally, she had been bereft at the loss of two of her cats, she had been overwhelmed with delight at having Mippin returned to her, and this delight had been reflected in the size of the generous bonus she had given Gretel. For her part, Gretel did not feel it undeserved, even if she did have to squash a niggling worry that, one day, her client might discover the fact that Lexxie and Floribunda had indeed made it home, albeit in a somewhat reduced form. She was on the point of plumping her silk cushions, the better to enjoy a short pre-lunch nap, when there came a great hammering upon the door. It was so loud and violent Gretel all but fell off her daybed. She scarcely had time to recover from the shock of such a rude interruption to her slumbers when there came a bold shouting.
“Open up! In the name of King Julian!”
“Well, really!” Gretel scrambled to her feet, tightening the cord of her housecoat about her belly. “Not again! What now? After all Uber General Ferdinand von rely-upon-me Ferdinand’s promises and assertions that I would be left alone . . . ! Am I never to find peace in my own home?” She strode through the hallway, spitting into the spittoon without breaking her stride, and wrenched open the front door. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. “I’ll have you know this is the third door I have taken possession of in as many weeks, and if I have to purchase another, your master will be footing the bill. Who are you, and what do you want? Speak, man!”
The caller took a step back. Gretel noticed that he was not, as she had expected, a soldier, but a herald. With trembling hands he unfurled a scroll and held it high as he read in a clear but slightly tremulous voice:
“Their Majesties King Julian and Queen Beatrix Findleberg of Bavaria do hereby summon you to attend the Summer Schloss on the occasion of the birthday of Her Royal Highness Princess Charlotte for a celebratory ball. Dress formal. Carriages at midnight.” He lowered the scroll, rolled it up again, and handed it to her. “Further details are herein,” he told her.
Gretel stared at him, mouth agape. She became aware some sort of response was required.
“Well, that is . . . splendid,” she managed at last. “I will of course be most honored to attend.”
He nodded, risking a small smile, and took a note out of his jerkin pocket. “I was also asked to give you this, fraulein.”
She took it from him and opened the fine cream vellum, the quality of which was not lost on her. In a flowing hand was written:
I should esteem it a great honor if you would agree to attend as my personal guest . . .” It continued in a flattering vein for some half a page, and was signed with a flourish: “Ferdinand.
“Well,” said Gretel again. She narrowed her eyes at the young herald.
“Any reply, fraulein?” he asked.
“Perhaps,” she said, “but . . . not just yet, I think. Tell the general I will respond . . . shortly.”
The herald masked his surprise well, bowed low, and left. A smile of supreme smugness lit up Gretel’s face. She turned on her heel, swinging the door shut as she did so. She had not gone two paces before a new hammering started up.
“Hell’s teeth!”
She pulled open the door and a stringy man in a ridiculous hat fell through it. Gretel frowned down at him as he lay panting at her feet.
“Who are you, and why are you lying on my good Turkish Kilm gasping like a trout on a riverbank?”
“Forgive me,” he panted, struggling to pull himself to his elbows, dragging himself farther into the hallway, his eyes darting nervously, peering past Gretel as if to check he had not been followed. “Are you Fraulein Gretel? That Gretel, of Gesternstadt?”
“That is what it says on the sign outside, yes.”
“Thank heavens! I have traveled many leagues to find you, for I believe only you can help me in my terrible situation.”
“I’m sorry, I have just two days since completed an arduous case, I cannot possibly undertake . . .”
“Oh, say you will help me! I implore you. It is a matter of great danger, and great urgency, I confess, but be assured, my patron is blessed with enormous wealth and is willing to pay whatever it takes to retrieve what has been taken from him.”
“Whatever it takes?”
The wreck of a man nodded as vigorously as his state of near collapse would allow. Gretel straightened up and took a steadying breath. After a second’s thought, she yelled toward the kitchen.
“Hans! Hurry along with that luncheon, and be liberal with the weisswurst. This is no time for half measures.”