The first course was brought in, consisting of turtle soup, bread, chicken, plovers' eggs, various salads and numerous other delicacies. The gorging began. The three ancestors had still said very little about their previous lives, and some of the family tried to engage them in conversation by asking about meals in their times. Hugo and his sisters said little or nothing in response and soon the questions dried up. The ancients clearly did not want to be bothered while they ate. And eat they did, greedily sampling one dish after another with insatiable appetites.
Nate found Elizabeth staring at him as she ate. He fumbled with his knife and fork, suddenly nervous without knowing why. She looked no older than thirty-five or -six now, and while her face was beautiful in a cold, proud way, her eyes were so intense he couldn't meet her gaze. They fixed on him now as she bit into a small tomato and a single drop of juice ran down the side of her mouth. His knife skidded across his plate with a loud squeak.
The second course was served: steaming platters of venison, beef, pork, sturgeon, salmon, lobster and more, with heaps of vegetables, butter and more bread. MacDonald, the butler, was reaching across to carve slices from the breast of a roast goose, but Hugo couldn't wait. He lunged out and grabbed a drumstick. MacDonald pulled back, but not in time to avoid Hugo's impulsive lunge, and the razor-sharp edge of the carving knife caught the ancestor across the back of his hand.
'Aargh!' Hugo roared. 'You clumsy swine! Look what you've done!'
A hairline cut across his knuckles started to bead with blood.
'I'm dreadfully sorry, sir!' MacDonald exclaimed. 'It was an accident – I'll fetch a bandage for you imm-'
It was as far as he got. Hugo snatched the hand with the knife and wrenched it towards him. He pulled the knife from MacDonald's fingers and pressed the servant's hand flat on the table.
'Hugo!' Edgar barked. 'That's enough!'
Hugo raised the knife high and brought it down hard… slamming the point deep into the table between the butler's thumb and forefinger, just missing his flesh. MacDonald yelped in fright and then gave a gasp of relief as he realized he had not been hurt. Panting a little, he gave Hugo an ingratiating smile and tried to take his hand off the table.
And that was when Hugo grabbed the butler's middle finger with his free hand. In a vicious movement he bent it back – back at an awful, impossible angle until there was a snap and MacDonald screamed. Hugo released him and let him stumble backwards, clutching his broken finger.
'You'll be more careful in future, you dolt,' he hissed, pressing a napkin to his own wound.
A couple of the footmen rushed forward to help MacDonald, escorting him out of the room. Daisy had her napkin up to her mouth. Elizabeth let out a patient sigh and Brunhilde uttered a little giggle.
'That wasn't necessary-' Nate began, but Edgar cut in.
'Hugo,' he rumbled, 'we do not indulge in summary punishment of our servants in this house and we certainly do not tolerate it from our guests. There are protocols to follow for disciplining any member of staff. In future, you should direct any grievance to Nathaniel, who will deal with it in the appropriate manner.'
'I will discipline servants as I see fit!' Hugo snarled. 'And I will not be commanded by any man.'
'You will be commanded by me, while you are under my roof and eating at my table,' the Duke told him in a low voice like stone grating across stone. 'Have no doubt about it.'
They stared at each other for what seemed like the longest time… and then Hugo dropped his eyes. He nodded truculently and, taking the knife that he had snatched from MacDonald, he cut some meat off the goose. He did not look at the Patriarch again.
Nate found that he was gripping his own knife tightly and his hands were shaking. He took them off the table and pressed them against his thighs. For the briefest instant he had been sure that the two old men were about to have a go at each other. The idea thrilled him, but he knew it would not have been a fair contest. Hugo did not know how close he had come to being seriously hurt. Nate exhaled slowly and started eating again.
'Ha!' Brunhilde blurted out. Baring her teeth to those around her, she grinned and chewed with her mouth wide open. 'Fresh meat! Eat, everyone eat!'
Not knowing how else to react, they obeyed.
XXIII
'We have to get out of here, Cathy!' he whispered hoarsely to her. 'Up into the attic, quick!'
'What?' she asked dully. 'What're yeh talkin' about, Shay? What ungodly hour is this to be wakin' me up?'
'Forget the bloody hour, woman! Slattery's men are outside and they're lookin' for me. If they find either one of us, they'll have our guts for garters. Now get up out of that bed and get yer dressing gown on. We have to go out by the roof.'
'I'm not going out on any roof!' Cathy retorted. 'I'll catch me death o' cold!'
He seized her up roughly and shoved her threadbare dressing gown into her arms.
'You'll catch yer death of Patrick Slattery if he finds us here. Now come on!'
He pulled over a chair and stood on it, pushing open the trap door to the attic. Then he took hold of the rim and pulled himself up. Cathy stepped up onto the chair, wobbling slightly as she was still drowsy, and held up her hands for her husband to grasp. With a grunt of effort, he heaved her up through the opening. He lowered the hatch and stood up, taking a stub of a candle from his pocket. He lit it and held it up. There were no windows or doors out to the roof, but over by the corner he saw what he was looking for: the glow of the night sky through a hole in the gabled roof.
Guiding his wife across the rafters, he made his way towards the corner, stepping carefully from one board to the next. If either of them put a foot wrong, they could fall through the plaster ceiling into the room below. They ducked as the roof sloped down and finally reached the hole. It was small, but it was enough for Shay to reach through and push aside some of the slate roof tiles. It only took a minute for him to make it big enough to fit through.
Ignoring Cathy's whispered protests, he climbed out and pressed himself down against the slates.
'Come on!' he hissed impatiently.
She struggled clumsily through the hole and let out a moan of terror as she looked down at the ground, four storeys below.
'Don't make a bloody sound!' he warned her.
They heard the muffled voices of Slattery and his men through the floor of the attic. Shay looked around frantically for some way off the roof, but there was nothing. He heard the attic hatch being opened and quickly laid his body across the hole to block out the light inside. Every move he made seemed to cause the loose slates to shift, and he closed his eyes and lay still. A light was held up into the attic, he could see it shine through the gaps on either side of his body. He could hear Cathy's teeth chattering and his own heart beating like a drum.
The light disappeared and he took a deep breath before daring to peek inside.
'They're gone,' he said at last. 'But they might have left someone behind down below to wait for us to come back. We'll give it a while and then come down by one of the other hatches.'
'Seamas Noonan, you tell me what's going on this instant or I swear to Almighty God-'
'All right, all right, woman!' he rasped, covering her mouth in exasperation. 'Keep yer voice down! Me 'n' Francie stole somethin' from the Wildensterns, and I fenced it through Duffy in town. That's how I paid off what we owed on the rent. But Slattery must have got to Duffy, 'cos now he's on our trail. And because of what we stole, he thinks we were in on the explosion at the funeral, all right? If we're caught, we're dead. It's as simple as that.'
