The following morning when Chavadzy left the caravansary to call on Bart and Romelle, he encountered them on the road outside. The two guardian lamas rode at a discreet distance behind.
"Where are you off to, my friends?" he smiled. "I was just coming to see you."
"I thought you left with Prince Dayan!" Bart exclaimed in surprise.
"It seemed better to stay. Perhaps I can help with the Magic Wine. Why don't I take it back to the Tsarevich myself? I should make a personal report to the Tsar. The summer will be glorious here. The danger is over. You and Madame can relax. It will be like a holiday."
Romelle rode on ahead with only a cursory nod at the Russian.
They asked you to stay to make sure we don't leave. It won't work, Chavadzy. You may come with us to St. Petersburg, if you like, but that's all. I want to be done with this whole affair. I want to see Lucien, Don Pablo, Cocteau. I want to taste Adrienne's pastries, and take tea at the Continental with the Empress. I want to walk Rebel in the Place Dauphine. I want to go home.
Chavadzy read clearly her vague hostility toward him.
"Madame is not well this morning," he commented to Bart.
The American shook his head. "She's as fit as ever, Chavadzy. She's a parisienne. This country's too wild for her. Until now it's been an adventure, but reality has finally caught up. Although she wears black, there has not been a moment since the wedding at Cap Martin for the true mourning to begin."
"Did she love Captain Duncan that much?"
Bart sighed. "I cannot honestly say it was love as you mean it. She felt a certain responsibility toward him. She cared for him, and wanted to compensate him with her youth for the many unfair turns his life had taken. Surely, that is a species of love.
"But when I speak of mourning, it is not as you might think I mean. Her peace of mind was destroyed on the day Philo died. It was the destruction of her youth. Since then, she has lived with the constant threat of death, facing danger at every turn. Life cannot ever be the same. She left the Place Dauphine a relatively innocent girl. Now, she is confronted by complex decisions she must make as a woman. Life is not simple for her anymore. She has begun to mourn the loss of innocence. She wants to do it at home."
Chavadzy asked no more questions as they crossed the valley floor, but he began to wonder about their destination. He could see Rebel trotting ahead of Romelle. Her hair hung loose. It flowed in the breeze. She rode freely, controlling Fate with her knees and soft whispers, as Brad had taught her to do.
The Okhrana chief had never married. He thought in this moment he might have considered it in his youth had he ever met a girl like her.
"We are going to pick the red lucerne on the Golden City's cliff," Bart eventually informed him. "There will be enough up there to maintain Alexis for life. I promised my daughter I would go home with her. Dash has agreed to take over the formula. Perhaps you, Chavadzy, could take on the responsibility for its delivery thereafter."
The Russian nodded, realizing he would have to take another tack if he were to get them to stay in the valley.
He glanced back to see if the two lamas were still with them.
They were.
The climb to the cliff seemed less arduous this time. Familiarity with its obstacles and curves made it seem no longer formidable.
Chavadzy had ordered the lamas to stay below, seeing no necessity for protection in that inaccessible spot. Thus, he was surprised to see them appear awhile later, hoving suddenly into view around the boulder.
He noticed instantly that both brandished weapons, pointed toward them.
"What do you think you are doing?" he asked harshly in Mongolian.
The tone of his words caught the attention of Bart and Romelle, who were gathering the red lucerne into piles. Bart stepped protectively toward his daughter.
"Not a move from any of you, please," one of the lamas warned in English, tossing back his hood.
Romelle gasped. She immediately recognized the captain of the Manchu dragoons who had accosted her when she gave water to the condemned men on the road to Urga. The ugly scar that ran from his ear to his mouth pulsed red in his sneering face.
"I see that you remember me, Madame," he snarled.
Chavadzy recognized him, as well. "You know this lady is under the protection of the Living Buddha! You were shown the gold medallion when you stopped us before."
Imperceptibly, the Russian's fingers moved toward the gun in his holster.
"Don't you dare," ordered the captain, perceiving his intent. "We may shoot each other, but my colleague here will have shot both your friends by then."
"What is it you want?" asked Bart.
The Manchu did not answer.
At that moment, Rebel ambled out from behind the stone curtain shielding the entryway to the Golden City. At sight of the weapons, he growled loudly, calling the gunmen's attention to him.
"That demon dog must die, or we'll never take them!" shouted the captain.
Both weapons went off as Rebel rushed them. With a terrible yelp, he leapt into the air and fell back to the ground.
Chavadzy seized this opportunity to yank his revolver from its holster. Before he could fire, the Manchu captain got off a shot. It struck Chavadzy in the chest. Bart noted with horror that the bullet entered just enough to the right of the previous wound to have penetrated the Russian's heart.
The Okhrana chief staggered backward, his eyes open, but unseeing. He was already dead before he toppled off the cliff.
Romelle fainted. She struck her head on a rock. Bart dropped down beside her and took her in his arms.
When she awoke, she was still in his arms, but they were in a dark room. She could barely make out his face above her. She felt a hard floor beneath her, then realized he was sitting up, leaning his back against a wall, with her head cradled in his lap.
Her fingers went to her temples. He had bandaged her head.
"Where are we, Father?" she asked weakly. "What has happened?"
He stroked her brow. "No more questions, darling," he soothed. "I'll give you the only answers I can. The Manchus apparently killed the two lamas Prince Dayan left as a guard, and replaced them. Chavadzy is dead. They would not let me touch Rebel. I suppose he is dead, too. I tore off the sleeve of my shirt to bandage your head."
"But where are we now?" she insisted.
"Shhh," he whispered, "please don't talk. You must rest. You've lost a lot of blood. I don't know where we are. They made me carry you down the path. I watched them hide Chavadzy's body in the bushes. Your black mare seemed distracted. I had the feeling she sensed what was going on. She whinnied several times. She made so much noise, the Manchu captain went for his pistol, but she reared and struck at him with her hooves, broke her tether, and ran. After dark, they blindfolded me and slung us over the other two horses and brought us here."
"Rebel is lying up there all alone?"
"I don't think it matters now, Romelle."
She fell silent. His fingers continued caressing her brow.
"Father," she said after awhile, "perhaps Rebel is with Philo. Can we name a Tree of Heaven for him?"
"Of course, darling, we'll do that."
She was silent again. Her head had begun to hurt.
"Do you know what today is?" she whispered.
"No."
"It's the Empress Eugénie's birthday, Father, the fifth of May. Do you suppose I'll ever see her again?"
"If God intends to bring you and the Empress together, child, nothing can stand in the way."
Comforted, she drifted into sleep.
 Bart looked down at Romelle through the darkness, remembering a moment in the distant past when he had watched Beth lean over her crib while she slept as a baby. He realized that his weathered features were wrinkled in the same expression of tenderness and love he had seen on the face of his long-dead, yet still dearly beloved, wife.
If this is the end, he thought, at least we are together. Beth, can you hear me? Is it time?
|