Ancient Appetites

brush the whole affair under the carpet.

Over the next two hours they slowly and methodically pulled the place apart. Winters was uneasy about disturbing his master's things, but Nate was merciless. They pulled out furniture, overturned mattresses, emptied wardrobes, cupboards and drawers, lifted up rugs and pulled back the edges of the carpets. All the secret panels were opened and examined, the entrances to secret passages exposed and the passageways searched. Nate went through Marcus's papers, reading the most significant and putting the rest aside for closer analysis later. By the time they were finished, his older brother's home looked as if it had been hit by a typhoon; and they were no closer to solving the mystery of Babylon. Nate flopped into an armchair and let out a frustrated curse, rubbing his face with his hands.

'What the hell did he mean?' he burst out. 'What the bloody hell has Babylon got to do with anything? What kind of stupid… stupid…? Oh, for God's sake!'

He threw up his hands in exasperation and then sat in silence for a few minutes, playing with the rings on his fingers. Winters stood nearby, his face carefully neutral. Nate's gaze fell on the cupboard that held Marcus's climbing gear. He wondered about the crampons on the boots again.

'Winters,' Nate said at last, 'when you went with Marcus to the Mournes, you said you didn't climb with him?'

'That's correct, sir.'

'But you prepared his gear, yes? He never let anyone else do it.'

'Of course, sir.'

'You're lying to me, Winters,' Nate hissed, his lips drawn tightly across his teeth, his fingers gripping the armchair. 'And I've had enough of everyone's lies. Now, you're going to tell me what Marcus was doing in the Mournes, or I promise you I will make your future a living hell.'

'Sir! I assure you… I… I wouldn't…'

The servant's composure was starting to crack, but whether it was out of loyalty to his dead master or fear of disobeying the Rules of Ascension, he was still holding back what he knew. Nate stood up and strode over to him.

Overcome with a sudden anger, he grabbed the footman by his collar and shoved him back against the wall. 'Who packed up his climbing gear, Winters? There are crampons on the boots. Crampons are for climbing on ice! There's no ice in the Mournes at this time of year. Marcus wasn't climbing, so where the hell was he? What was he doing in the Mournes? Talk to me, man!'

Winters folded visibly, his face a picture of resigned relief.

'Master Marcus had come back to Ireland against the Duke's wishes, sir,' he said. 'The Duke felt that with the way things were with the civil unrest in the United States, it was no time to be taking a holiday. But Master Marcus was adamant; he… he was certain that the Duke's brother was formulating plans to get hold of the business and that he would have to remove Master Marcus himself, as well as yourself and Master Roberto from his path to succeed. Master Marcus decided that the Duke wasn't doing enough to stop him.'

This did not surprise Nate in the least.

'So if he was so concerned about an assassination attempt, why did he go gallivanting off to the mountains?' he asked again.

'Master Marcus went to the Mournes to give himself an alibi,' Winters admitted quietly. 'He meant to come back to the house in secret, and assassinate the Duke's brother before himself, Master Roberto or you could be hurt.

'I was to follow early the following morning in the coach and make it appear that I was travelling with Master Marcus. He would come back up to meet me on the road and arrive in the coach that morning, so it would appear as if he had been en route when Lord Wildenstern was killed.'

Nate nodded to himself. Marcus was ranked above Gideon in the family, so the Rules of Ascension forbade him from killing his uncle in anything other than self-defence. But Marcus had not been prepared to wait for Gideon to hatch his plans and had taken matters into his own hands. And without the family's sanction, it would be straightforward murder, so he could not afford to be caught. Pretending he was out of the house would also mean that Gideon would be easier to catch off-guard.

'I reached the place where Master Marcus had told me to wait,' Winters went on. 'The coach driver and I waited for a whole day. It was terrible, sir; just waiting like that with no way of knowing what was happening. In the end I decided to continue to the house and pretend I had been sent there on an errand. Master Marcus's…'The footman's breath caught in his throat. 'Master Marcus's body had already been found… in one of the secret passageways. It was the Duke who ordered that his son's death should be covered up by saying it was a climbing accident. The witnesses were all arranged accordingly.'

Nate released the manservant's collar and trudged back to his chair, slumping into it. So the family had done what it did so well; it had made an accident out of a killing. Gideon, possibly with the help of his sons, had beaten Marcus. Nate had known them all his life and found the idea of Marcus being outwitted by their buffoon of an uncle hard to stomach; Gideon and his sons were back-stabbing curs with no shortage of ambition, but they had little courage and more of an animal cunning than any real intelligence. They should not have been able to better Marcus. Still, anyone could get lucky.

Nate rubbed his chin, overwhelmed by exhaustion. It seemed he had found the answer he was looking for and yet he was wholly unsatisfied. Why had Marcus spent his last words urging him to find Babylon? Nate was convinced there were still answers left to find. Then, when he was absolutely certain of Gideon's guilt, he would decide on how he would have his revenge.

The ancestors joined the family for dinner that evening. Despite having the kind of appetite expected of someone in their late teens, Nathaniel had long ago learned not to eat everything that was put in front of him. There was a massive quantity and variety of food, and to try some of every dish would render a person obese in a matter of months. Each dish was served in a single bowl or platter placed along the middle of the enormous table and the servants then dealt out food to each diner. Apart from reasons of presentation, the shared dishes meant that it would be very difficult for any family member to poison one rival without putting half the family to death.

It was largely traditional, however, and their aurea sanitas gave the family a formidable resistance to poisoning anyway.

Hugo had been given the place of honour at the table, at Edgar's right hand – normally the Heir's position – facing Gideon and Eunice. Elizabeth and Brunhilde sat alongside the husband and wife, facing Roberto and Daisy. Nate sat beside them. Beyond this clique sat the rest of the immediate family, over thirty in all. This included Gideon's five sons, all younger versions of their father, their stocky, muscular bodies already a trifle overfed. The Gideonettes, Nate called them, and he regarded them now with barely concealed hatred. They tended to speak in short, barking sentences and wear truculent expressions. Each expressed his individualism by sporting his black facial hair in a different style. All the most up-to-date cuts of moustache and goatee were represented there that day.

At the other end of the table, furthest from the important elders, were the younger members of the family, including Tatiana. Responsibility for their good behaviour was entrusted to Aunt Elvira, an endearing old harridan with bad legs and worse hearing, who listened to everything with a horn extending from her ear and shouted 'What?' down the table at regular intervals.

'Moors?' Hugo muttered in disbelief as he gestured to the Duke's two black servants, who stood at the wall behind their master. 'You allow blackamoors inside your walls?'

'I judge my servants on their ability and their loyalty, not on their race,' Edgar retorted. 'They and their brothers provide the most expert service.'

'Just wait until they find out slavery's been abolished,' Daisy said under her breath.

Nate gave her a hard look, but he was the only one who heard.

Hugo and his sisters spent some time taking in the majestic dining hall with its magnificent stucco mouldings and the painting of a heavenly feast on the ceiling. Tapestries of hunts and battles hung on the walls and there were six doorways and numerous alcoves where the servants could conceal themselves from the family's view. The ancestors then turned their attention to the bewildering array of silver cutlery before them.

'Start on the outside and work your way in,' Daisy whispered to them. 'We'll explain the more complicated bits later.'