CHAPTER 22

Lined up with their backs against the wall and their legs out straight, hands tied behind them, feet bound together, and mouths gagged so tightly the skin was stretched over their cheeks, were about a dozen young boys. The oldest looked to be a year or two younger than I was, the youngest about five or six. Some looked as though they had been beaten. All of them were frightened.

And right in the middle, one side of his face swollen as though he had been hit with a hard object, was Toby, still in the Esterhazy livery, which was now dirty and torn.

I ran to him as if in a dream, feeling as though my legs would not push against the ground fast enough to close the distance between us. When I reached him, I fumbled with the ropes tied around his ankles. Making no progress, I tried to untie his gag, but I had no strength in my fingers. All the while the faint strains of a string quartet, the beautiful adagio I had written down for my godfather only days before, filtered through the ceiling of the room.

I hardly noticed that Danior had come over and crouched beside me, using his thin dagger to slice through the ropes and the gag in an instant. Toby fell into my arms, weeping.

“I’m so sorry, Toby! He won’t get away with it,” I murmured into his matted and dirty hair.

Danior gripped my arm again. I looked around in annoyance, but he put his finger to his lips and glared at me. I held my breath, and heard what he had heard. The crunch of boots on stone. Someone was coming.

As quietly as the wild cats that slunk around the alleys at night, the three men withdrew into positions in the dark corners of the room. Danior motioned me to do the same, but I did not want to let go of Toby. I tried to get him to stand up. Either they had hurt his legs, or fear and fatigue had made him weak, because he could not support his own weight. “Come, Toby, lean on me!” I whispered. The violinist doused his candle with the palm of his hand, and we were instantly wrapped in darkness. I felt Toby’s quiet tears soak into my shoulder.

The next moments went by so fast, yet I have relived them many times since then as though they had happened under deep water, all movements slowed by the effort of struggling through liquid. First, I heard expressions of surprise and anger outside the door. They had found the unconscious guard.

“Must have been ten of them at least! I could not hold out.” Even as the guard spoke, the door was being opened.

Torchlight flooded into the room, fanning out from the door. A musket barrel advanced into the space, followed by three men in the black-and-white uniforms of the imperial guard, all of them with muskets out. The music from above flowed in with them—they had obviously left the doors to the pantry and the cellar open behind them. I heard the end of the string quartet followed by polite applause. The sound of my heart beating filled the silence in my ears, and I was certain they could all hear it.

I remember finding it almost comical that they would creep in slowly, as though certain an army of cutthroats lurked in the hidden corners of the room. But their posture became more relaxed and they stood more upright as the torch illuminated empty space around them and caught the gleam of the first young prisoners’ eyes, still staring in silent fearfulness, hands and feet still bound and mouths still gagged. I noticed all this as the pool of light shed by the torch crept closer to where Toby and I stood. Danior, where have you gone! I thought, willing the Gypsy men to leap out and surprise the guards.

I tried to shrink back, but the wall was in my way. I pulled Toby against my body, and felt the hard lump of the pistol in my belt. I had almost forgotten I had it. Without a moment’s hesitation I slipped my hand down to where I could grasp the hilt of the gun and eased it out. “Stay still, Toby,” I breathed into his ear, trying to quiet his trembling. I gripped him around his middle with my left arm, and aimed the pistol out from behind him with my right. By the time the light revealed us, I thought I would be prepared to pull the trigger.

The illumination of the torch felt warm and harsh. I blinked against it. The guard who saw us first registered surprise, then smiled slowly. “So these are the ten men who attacked you, Hugo!”

The others laughed, lowering their muskets to rest their stocks on the ground.

“I’ll kill you if you come closer!” I yelled. I wanted my voice to carry to the floor above, but the music had started again. It was a lively symphony, and the tympani rolled. The noise would obscure just about any sounds from down here, as had been part of the plan.

“You won’t be able to fire that thing when it’s not cocked, lad,” the main guard said, provoking more laughter from the others. His smile faded. “Tie them up,” he barked.

At that very moment, I caught a gleam of Danior’s eyes from the dark corner behind the intruders and saw the faint flash of his dagger. Thank God, I thought. He looked prepared to leap forward and surprise them from behind, but just as he tensed for action, a voice from the doorway stopped him.

“Is there some difficulty, gentlemen?”

It was my uncle. Hildegard must have found him and told him, and no doubt he could guess the rest. He came into view, his eyes taking everything in, and I saw that my disguise did not fool him for more than a moment.

“My dear Theresa, really. I thought the gown I purchased for you at great expense was much more flattering.”

I might have found the guards’ perplexed expressions funny if I had not feared for my life—and my brother’s.

“Quite enterprising of you, my dear,” Uncle Theobald said.

I wanted to spit in his face.

“Your father would have been proud of you, no doubt. He was just a bit too smart for his own good, and it seems he’s passed that dubious quality on to you.” He turned to the commander of the guards. “Secure her!” Then he addressed me again. “Your poor mother will be informed that, like so many children in this wicked city, you and your brother were abducted by Gypsies and sold into slavery in Turkey. She will weep, but with another on the way, I daresay she’ll get over it.”

I don’t really know how I found the strength or even knew what to do, but I released my brother from my arm, gripped the pistol with two hands, pulled back the firing pin, and squeezed the trigger.

The flash nearly blinded me, and the force of the shot threw me back into the wall. I hit my head and collapsed.