brother, had contrived to leave him alone with her maid. Once his sister had left, Hugo had turned on the charm – or so he seemed to think – and after a momentary courtship, had tried for a kiss.
Mary was 'havin' none of it, but couldn't rightly say so to his lordship', so she had tried to be coy and turn away. That was when Hugo had pulled her against him and bitten her neck. His bruised teeth-marks were still clearly visible on the skin just above her shoulder. He had even broken the flesh in a couple of places.
That was what she got for 'being a tease', he'd said.
Daisy had walked her right up to the Duke's study and demanded that Hugo be forced to apologize. The Duke had assured her that no apology would be forthcoming, nor was it the policy for members of the family to apologize to servants.
Now, Daisy knelt in the church and prayed for guidance. She did not care much for this church. It was cold, which was not unusual for churches, but it had a menacing air about it too, and there was too much gold ornamentation for her tastes. It seemed to be everywhere. It was positively gaudy. It was disturbing how fond this family was of its gold.
Someone else was coming up the aisle. She could hear soft footsteps on the mosaic floor, but she did not look up. She wanted to be alone, and as long as she kept her eyes closed and the conversation remained between herself and God, she probably wouldn't be interrupted.
The wooden pew on which she was kneeling creaked and she felt the weight of another's knees bow it slightly. Daisy resisted the urge to open her eyes and see who it was.
'You are a devout woman, Melancholy,' a voice said quietly, shockingly close to her ear.
She looked up to find Hugo kneeling right beside her. Daisy was overcome with a sudden rage.
'Don't you dare open your mouth to me!' she hissed at him.
'But I feel compelled to, my dear,' he crooned. 'After all that
'Only when it bites into the necks of servant girls!' she snapped. 'What kind of savage are you?'
'I confess, my appetites get the better of me sometimes,' he said airily, his hand coming to rest on hers where it lay on the back of the pew in front of them. 'I am a passionate man, used to taking whatever he wants. But you must understand: I am from a harsher time and I know I can be overly sharp. I am a sword in need of a sheath.'
'It's less your sharpness, but more the danger of infection from your rust that I fear,' Daisy retorted, getting to her feet. 'Like so many men, sir, you are a weapon with no sense of direction. If you'll excuse me, I think I should remove myself from the range of your sword before it seeks a scabbard it cannot hope to fill.'
And with that, she left.
XXVII
Marcus's last message haunted him. His brother had tried to murder his father and had been killed in return. The thought made him physically ill. He was sick of it all – all the talk of conspiracies and threats and murders. It had surrounded him all his life so that he had grown up thinking it normal. Now he was jaded, worn out from the constant tension, the fear that had been instilled in him from birth that someone somewhere was out to get him. How could he have spent his whole life like this? How could he ever have thought this was a normal way to live?
Under the table, Elizabeth's foot touched his shin and he moved it away, avoiding her gaze as she forked meat into her mouth. He had made no attempt to tell his father about Hugo's plotting. He wanted no more part in any of this.
The second course was served, and there was much wondering over the reason for the Duke's uncommonly good mood. As the steaming platters of duck, pork, beef, pheasant and heaps of buttered vegetables and bread were all laid on the table, Edgar stood up and cleared his throat. There was immediate silence.
'We are faced with challenging times,' he declared. 'And now, more than ever, we must face adversity with all the strength we can command. I am happy, therefore, to welcome into our family four noble individuals whom God has seen fit to bring back from oblivion, and from whom much of our strength might originally have been drawn.
'Hugo, Elizabeth and Brunhilde… and let us not forget your unfortunate brother, Brutus.' He raised his wine glass and everyone hurriedly stood up and did the same. 'You are Wildensterns – you must consider this house your own, and all those within it as your kin. Welcome home!'
'Welcome home!' the family cried dutifully and drank the toast.
Hugo and his sisters stayed standing after everyone else sat down. They were at the head of the table on either side of the Patriarch; they had tears in their eyes and looked deeply moved. Elizabeth and Brunhilde hurried to Edgar's sides and knelt to kiss his hands, Brunhilde on his left and Elizabeth pressing her lips to the claw on his right. Nate lifted his head, looking first at Hugo then at his father, his blood going cold. It couldn't be. Not yet. Hugo bowed to the Duke.
'I have hoped for this moment since the hour of my awakening. Sir, you honour us!'
And as his sisters gripped Edgar's arms, Hugo snatched up a carving knife and plunged it into the Duke's chest.
The room erupted into furious motion; some of the women screamed, men shouted, chairs were kicked back and hands grabbed for any weapon within reach. Nate reacted on reflex, his hatred for his father forgotten. In an instant he was up out of his chair, a steak knife in his hand as he leaped onto the table and bounded down to the end of it. Edgar had fallen back over his chair, but if the blade had pierced his heart it appeared he had little use for the organ. A throwing knife appeared as if by magic in his left hand and he slashed at Brunhilde's abdomen, breaking Elizabeth's grip at the same time and seizing her by the throat with his claw. Hugo pulled his knife out and drove it in again and then a third time before Nate crashed into him, hurling him to the floor. The four Maasai servants were already there, leaping to their master's aid, two of them drawing pistols. But a gunshot rang out from the other end of the table and then three more in quick succession, and two of the black servants crumpled to the floor. Nate turned in shock to see Gideon and his sons charging into the fray, also armed with pistols. Gideon stopped and aimed, firing off a fifth shot that spun another of the Maasai round before a final bullet caught the servant through the head. Hugo used the distraction to elbow Nate in the face and lunged at the remaining bodyguard, who struck the ancestor's wrist with the edge of one hand, knocking the knife away, before delivering a stunning blow to the back of Hugo's neck. Gideon took aim again, but Nate kicked the gun aside, only to be pummelled into the floor by two of Gideon's burly sons. He saw Berto hit the floor beside him, fighting like a berserker against three more of their cousins.
The cold ring of a gun barrel was pressed against Nate's forehead and he froze, a growl rising from his throat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his father struggling to regain his feet, blood spurting from one of the wounds in his chest and making the floor slippery beneath him. Gideon drew a short sword from under his jacket and strode towards the Patriarch.
'No!' Nate screamed. 'Don't you bloody dare, you-'
The barrel of the gun pulled away and slammed across the side of his head. As his vision swam, he rolled over, trying to crawl free, but too many strong arms held him. He watched helplessly as Gideon seized Edgar by the hair and pulled him into a kneeling position. Edgar roared, punching his claw up into Gideon's groin. Gideon howled and collapsed to the floor, dropping the sword and clutching his injured privates.
'You always were… an embarrassment… you… treacherous cur,' Edgar snarled at his younger brother, blood
