Inferno

Chapter 55

Frederiksborg Castle, Sj?lland

‘Oh, Nicholas! I’m so relieved to see you,’ Cecilia whispered. ‘Everyone’s in such a tizz at the English fleet.’

Behind her, Hetty stood mute, her hands at her mouth.

The guards were still at their posts and inside the palace there was a wary quiet.

Frue Rosen greeted Renzi with a fleeting smile but her hands worked together. ‘Sir, I know it in my bones – no good will come of this.’

‘Calm yourself, my dear. If it sets your mind at rest I do offer you a place in my party, which is soon to be quit of Copenhagen.’

‘Oh, my lord, this is generous of you but, sir, my country, my memories … are here in Denmark. I shall stay.’

‘I understand. We shall be gone directly, and do wish you-’

Outside there was the sudden clatter of horses and equipment. Hoarse, barked commands rang out and forceful voices could be heard from the hall beneath them.

‘It’s the Crown Prince!’ gasped Frue Rosen.

More shouts came, then an order, repeated.

She started in dismay. ‘I’m called. They’ve come to take His Majesty away.’ Turning abruptly she hurried down the stairs.

Renzi ran after her.

The hall was full of men – courtiers, soldiers, footmen. He searched about feverishly for the Crown Prince but couldn’t see him for the crowd. Was there now a final chance – if he could get to him?

He was jostled by men streaming out from the interior of the palace with chests and baggage and, through the windows, Renzi saw coaches draw up.

Cecilia caught up with him, clutching his arm at the pandemonium.

Then without warning the Crown Prince was in front of them. ‘You! My lord Farndon! Why are you here, sir?’ he cried. ‘I demand to know!’

‘Your Royal Highness, I’m here to collect the countess who’s been staying with-’

There was a muffled scream – a tearing, unhinged wail. The bustle and noise died away at the sight of the King of Denmark, Christian VII, being dragged out between two guards in an extremity of terror.

Frederik pushed forward and snapped at the wild-eyed monarch, gesturing angrily.

‘Nej, nej, nej!’ gurgled the King, in his nightclothes a pitiable figure. His ashen-faced guards struggled to hold him.

The Crown Prince barked at his father mercilessly, bringing on a fresh paroxysm of weeping and shrieking.

Frue Rosen tried to interpose herself between them, shielding the King and weeping with frustration.

Everyone froze and a breathless stillness lay on the air.

Cecilia, wrung with pity, choked, ‘The poor man! The poor, poor man!’

She ran to him, knelt down and restrained a flailing arm, stroking and murmuring endearments in English, as his mother must have done. He quietened, looking up desperately from her to Frue Rosen, and Cecilia continued her soothing words until, unexpectedly, he smiled and stuttered, ‘The English! The English have come at last! I … I must prepare for them. Where shall I go?’

Between them Cecilia and Frue Rosen helped him to his feet. Grinning inanely, he allowed himself to be put aboard a coach, never taking his eyes off them. It ground away, the King leaning from a window and waving gaily, as if for all the world he was on holiday.

Crown Prince Frederik stalked over to Renzi. ‘I should thank you, my lord,’ he said, breathing heavily. ‘My father is deranged as you have seen. And yet I’ll have you know it was caused by you English.’

‘Sir, I’m sorry to hear it, but caused by we?’

‘You’ve not heard? This morning at ten your armada landed troops and guns on the soil of Denmark and even now advance on Copenhagen. For the safety of His Majesty I’m conveying him out of here.’ He flushed. ‘This is an act of war, my lord. For this I should have you taken. Your mission is finished – it is over. However, for the respect I bear my uncle I grant you your liberty but I can do nothing more for you. My protection is withdrawn.’

Turning on his heel he strode to the royal coach and it sped off with a thunderous cracking of whips.

Cecilia clutched Renzi’s arm, looking around fearfully at the commotion. ‘Quickly!’ he said. ‘Follow me.’ They ran outside to the outer quadrangle to board the old coach.

It was no longer there.