“Pacing, pacing!” cried our master. “I have seen old men with more verve!”
“I do not want to tire my brother,” Konrad replied.
I feinted once, and then feebly struck Konrad’s foil at the midpoint.
“Rather a waste, don’t you think?” Konrad goaded me.
“Indeed,” I said. But it was what I wanted. Let him mock me, I thought. I had my plan now.
Konrad returned to the en garde position, and we circled warily. I watched him, waiting for his attack, waiting for the flex of his knee as he lunged. When it came, I was ready.
I performed a passata-sotto, a difficult maneuver I had been secretly practicing for weeks now. I dropped my right hand to the floor and lowered my body beneath Konrad’s thrusting blade. At the same time, I lunged with my own foil. His blade hit empty air. Mine struck his belly.
“A hit, a very palpable hit!” cried our master. “The match is Victor’s. A passata-sotto. Well done, young sir.”
My eyes went to Elizabeth, who was clapping with Henry. I pulled up my mask, grinning. It wasn’t often I bested Konrad, and the victory was sweet indeed.
“A very fancy move,” said Konrad. “Congratulations.”
He removed his mask, and I was taken aback by his pallor.
“Are you well, young sir?” our fencing master asked, frowning.
Elizabeth walked toward us. “You two have fought too hard,” she said. “Konrad, sit down a moment.”
He waved her away, shivering. “I am fine. I am fine.”
Elizabeth put her hand to his head. “You’re scalding.”
“Merely from our exertions,” I said, and gave a lighthearted laugh. “It was quite a match. Shall we fetch the wheelchair for you?”
“He is feverish, Victor,” she said to me sharply.
As I looked more carefully at my brother, I knew he was truly ill. His skin had a parched look to it, and beneath his eyes were smudges of darkness.
“I am not feverish,” said Konrad, and then he fainted.
Elizabeth and I caught him clumsily before he hit the floor. He was not long unconscious, and by the time he awoke, Henry had fetched Mother and Father and they were at his side.
“To bed with you, Konrad,” Father said. “We will have Maria bring you some broth.”
I helped my father raise him to his feet and walk him unsteadily from the armory, with Elizabeth and Mother keeping pace with us. I kept hoping Konrad would meet my eye, give a playful wink to set my mind at ease, but he seemed groggy and withdrawn.
“Was it too many nights on the balcony, practicing our play?” Elizabeth said anxiously, as though she herself were to blame.
“More likely too long on the lake without a cloak,” said Mother.
“He will be up for dinner,” I said, trying to sound confident. “Just a chill, no doubt.”
Dr. Lesage arrived later in the afternoon to examine Konrad. To everyone’s huge relief, he said it wasn’t plague. He advised bed rest for three days, no food but broth, and regular doses of his patented strengthening draft.
Mother forbade us from entering his bedchamber, for fear we would catch the fever. Elizabeth wanted to help tend to Konrad, but despite her protests, we were only permitted to call out hellos from the doorway.
“I’m not being a very festive host for you, Henry,” Konrad said from his bed.
“Then you best hurry up and entertain him properly,” I replied.
“Don’t be silly,” said Henry. “Take your rest, Konrad.”
“Get better soon,” said Elizabeth.
Konrad nodded. “I will. I promise.”
But five days later he was still bedridden.
Our morning lessons were subdued, as Elizabeth, Henry, and I sat in the library listening to Father tell us about the early Greek thinkers and the principles of democracy.
At the best of times I had trouble concentrating, and right now it was nearly impossible. I kept looking over at Konrad’s empty chair. Father, too, seemed distracted. Usually his lectures were full of Sturm und Drang, and he would pace and thump the table, and fire questions at us like a volley of arrows. But today he dismissed us early and told us to get some fresh air.
At lunch, when Mother joined us at the table, she looked grave.
“How is he?” Elizabeth asked worriedly.
“Feverish again, and he complains of aching limbs. He says it makes his head throb when I read to him.”
Father took Mother’s hand. “He’s very strong. The fever will break soon for good. All will be well.”
Throughout the afternoon Konrad’s fever mounted. Dr. Lesage came and left some powders that he said were very beneficial for fighting infection.
Before dinner I went to check on Konrad with Elizabeth and Henry. He was asleep. We stood at the doorway and watched Maria gently mopping his brow with a cool cloth. He flinched and twisted and muttered nonsense. Maria tried to smooth his sheets, made shushing sounds to calm him.
“I’ve never felt a hotter head,” she said quietly to us.
Seeing my brother so ill sparked in me feelings of such intensity that I was nearly overwhelmed. What if he didn’t recover? What if I were to lose him? Looking at him was like looking upon myself, seeing my own body racked with fever and pain.
And, even more strange, I felt anger. How could Konrad have allowed this to happen? How could someone so healthy, and so smart and sensible, become so ill?
I was ashamed for having such thoughts.
And I was ashamed at how powerless I was to help him.
At dinner that night I could not eat. My body ached, and my stomach swirled.
“Victor,” my mother said. “Are you well?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You’re pale,” she said.
I looked over at Henry, and then Elizabeth, and caught her quick, nervous glance at Mother. Suddenly my stomach clenched and turned over, and I had to rush from the table to the nearest water closet, where I retched, again and again, tears welling from my eyes. I could not remember feeling sicker.
What had happened to Konrad had happened to me.
An eternal night spent tossing and turning, shivering and sweating. When awake, I lay in the grips of terror; and when I slept, it was only in cruel snatches, and my dreams were foul. In one, Konrad and I were playacting, joyfully at first, but then with more and more fury, and when I slew him with the sword, it was a real sword, and real blood poured from his chest, and I laughed and laughed-and started awake, drenched and panting.
Throughout the night, I was dimly aware of Mother and Father and the servants checking on me.
Finally I must have slept properly, for when I next opened my eyes, it was dawn, and Dr. Lesage stood over me, taking my pulse.
“Let us have a good look at you, young Master Frankenstein,” said the doctor, gently helping me sit up.
Limply I submitted to his grave prodding. He seemed to take a great deal of time, which made me all the more agitated.
“It is the same ailment as Konrad’s,” I rasped.
“I will speak with your mother,” the doctor said, and with that he left.
The next five minutes might have been hours. I was filled with dread. I stared out the window and saw the sunshine and the mountains, and it was as though it had nothing to do with me. It was a different world, one from which I was cut off forever. I was certain of the news I was about to hear.
It was not Mother who came in finally, or Father, but Elizabeth. Anger radiated from her face.
“There is nothing wrong with you!” she said.
“What?” I exclaimed.
She sat down on the edge of my bed and burst into tears. “You are fine,” she said. “Dr. Lesage said you are absolutely fine.”
The power of the mind must be a miraculous thing, for at that very moment I felt my fever and sickness
