I was told that it was true, they usually confined their trading within southern France and Lorraine.
Chavi had a grandson, Cingar, who was widely known to play the violin so passionately he could bewitch any woman’s heart. The Duchess of Orleans heard the rumour, so her husband, Gasgon de Guise, summoned Cingar to his court for the duke to examine the truth of this claim. As the duke had never taken kindly to gypsies, Cingar knew it was a trap and yet could not resist such a challenge, for such occasions became the heart of legend and folklore. Cingar was also the captain of this band of gypsies, and where one member of the clan went, they all went.
‘So Cingar did bewitch the duchess,’ I presumed.
‘Completely,’ Chavi said, both proudly and ruefully. ‘In a fit of jealousy the duke had Cingar arrested.’
‘On what charge?’ I frowned, drawing a blank. Yet the answer was so obvious.
‘Heresy, of course.’ Chavi was surprised I hadn’t guessed. ‘The duke said that Cingar’s playing was beyond pure mortal talent and that he must have made a pact with the devil.’
I rolled my eyes as the charge was so typical of a jealous aristocrat. ‘Have we not come out of the Dark Ages yet?’
‘That is not the worst of it,’ Chavi continued. ‘The same night as my grandson was arrested, the duke’s son fell ill and de Guise accused us of cursing his boy. Our men were all seized by the duke’s soldiers and he has threatened to kill them all if his boy dies.’
‘So, why are your caravans on the road to Paris?’ I wondered.
Chavi smiled broadly, as if I should know why. ‘I was told by an anonymous spirit that I would find our saviour on the road from Paris to Sens.’
‘How long have you been waiting for me?’ I was hoping that the duke’s son had not died already.
‘We’ve just arrived after two days of travel.’ Chavi also appeared worried for the boy.
‘Then there is no time to waste.’ I stood and looked about at all the idle horses. ‘Give me a horse and a guide to Orleans and I shall bring your men back within the week.’ I looked at Albray to see what he thought, but all he did was wink in approval.
Chavi went into a trance, and then told me: ‘I believe it is the truth. Rumer.’ Chavi called for her grand- daughter, Cingar’s sister. ‘Prepare two horses and provisions. You shall ride with Miss Winston.’ Chavi winked at me and I wasn’t too sure if that was to set me at my ease, or to imply that she knew Winston was not my true name.
When I stopped to consider in more detail what I proposed to do, fear grew in my gut, and I looked at Albray who stood shaking his head at me.
I smiled, considering it a fair question. I
Today was one of the most exciting days of my life.
It was like something straight out of one of Ashlee’s stories. I am so pleased to have thought to keep an account of our pursuit. My hope is that one day, when this whole mess is unravelled, Ashlee will be able to laugh at the merry chase that she led us on.
And I must comment at this point for your benefit, dear Ash, that every day I pass in the company of the Devere brothers, the more fond I become of them both. I fear you have too harshly judged your husband’s motives, for I have never seen a man so single-minded in his purpose. I see clearly how his mind is absorbed at every waking moment with thoughts of you; he will have no peace until we find you safe and well.
My husband, on the other hand, was just this morning in the foulest of moods and completely exasperated with the pursuit of you, dear sister.
There we were in a carriage, bowling along the road out of town, and we hadn’t seen any of Paris yet—you can just imagine what my lord thought of that!
‘I want to know why your wife is running from you, Earnest,’ James demanded. ‘I know there is something I’m not being told.’
Mr Devere and I looked at each other, at a loss as to where to start and wondering how much James needed to know, when another carriage passed us on its way back to Paris. It captured my brother’s interest immediately.
‘What is the matter, Mr Devere?’ I asked, as he was so preoccupied.
‘That was her coach,’ he claimed. In a rush for information, Mr Devere stuck his head out the window and ordered our coachman to turn us around with all speed and catch the coach that had just passed us by.
‘That’s a bit of a long shot, don’t you think?’ James was quite put out that we were doubling back for no good reason. ‘How could you know for sure that was our sister’s conveyance?’
‘Your brother’s instincts have proven excellent so far,’ I reasoned, as the carriage turned around. I served Mr Devere a look to let him know he had better be right about this.
‘I am absolutely certain,’ he stated.
Mr Devere later told me how it was that he could be so sure—the explanation started with yesterday.
We had traced Ashlee to her accommodation in Paris. Molier had cunningly asked his assistant to inform Mrs Devere—on the first day she was at the library—that, as a safety precaution for the holy archive, she was required to sign the guest book and give a contact address in Paris. The woman who had let the rooms to Ashlee had seen her leave in a carriage, but her tenant had left no clue as to where she was bound. Mr Devere kissed the lady’s hand in parting, and had extracted from the brief contact a precise image of the carriage in which Ashlee had left Paris.
It seems Devere’s talents had grown stronger since Ashlee’s departure, for rather than being weakened by her absence, each day he achieved some new marvel. So perhaps the true source of his power was not just the act of
