“Should we be sneaking or something, Lieutenant?” Captain Arius asked, looking around to see who might be watching. They had reached the end of the palace’s foyer and were about to enter the central rotunda. From there, they could access the throne room, formal dining room and ballroom, and a few grand staircases leading to residences and offices on higher floors.
Mardans almost laughed but caught himself. “No, sir. We belong here. This is the palace, and we are officers of the palace guard. No one will think our walking around is suspicious.”
“Ah, right,” Arius said, grinning sheepishly. “I do take a walk around the palace every evening. Silly of me.”
“Not at all, sir,” Mardans said. “You’re slightly out of your element, that’s all. You will look and feel more natural if you change your mindset to showing me the palace’s layout rather than sneaking.”
Arius considered this for a moment, then nodded. “I can see how that works. Thank you.”
They continued toward Lirens’ rooms, the captain taking the part of a tour guide. He stopped now and then to point out a door or a hallway that he felt Mardans should know about, especially when someone else was in view or earshot. Unaware of his lieutenant’s childhood familiarity with the palace layout, Arius’ commentary was unenlightening but masked their intention well. He took them in a roundabout way to approach the prince’s residence from the back stairway, avoiding as many people as possible.
The well-lit hallway leading to Lirens’ rooms stood empty. Arius hurried to the door and unlocked it. The rooms were empty, too, as expected, but the palace staff had prepared for the prince’s return by lighting the lamps and turning down his bedcovers.
The suite was a grand five-room apartment fit for royalty. The outer door opened into a parlor with a fireplace on the left-hand wall, before which stood a low table flanked by two leather chairs and a comfortable couch behind it. A small dining table and chairs stood along the back wall between large, curtained windows. Through a door in the right-hand wall lay a study with a desk and chair, two upholstered side chairs, and bookshelves lining the walls. Another door to the left of the parlor led to Lirens’ large bedroom, which boasted a fireplace, a massive four-post bed, dressers, and a wardrobe. Beyond it stood a bathroom and a much smaller manservant’s bedroom. Rich carpets and wallpapers ran throughout.
Mardans surveyed the apartment from a central position. Nothing caught his eye as out of place. Taking a slow walk through all the rooms, he looked at everything but touched nothing.
Captain Arius followed him. “What are we looking for exactly?” he asked.
Mardans took a moment to answer. “Something hidden but not so much that an observant person couldn’t spot it.”
“Wouldn’t someone who wanted to hide something do a better job than that?” the captain asked.
“Most would, yes,” Mardans agreed. “But what if the hider wanted it to be found? Say, he or she or an accomplice comes here as Prince Lirens’ guest and ‘just so happens’ to spot the object and incriminate him by pointing it out?”
“Ah, I see!” Arius said, nodding vigorously. “If he or she is with others, the prince would be forced to explain why he is in possession of the thing.”
“Yes, something like that,” Mardans said. “Since the prince has been away for a few days, someone could have gained access to these rooms—say, through a cleaning woman—and planted something to be found later. In this way, whoever it is could shift suspicion toward the prince.”
“You don’t actually suspect the prince, do you?” the captain asked tentatively.
“Never,” Mardans said with a firmness he felt to the bone. “He would never undermine the king.”
He took another deliberate tour through the apartment, thinking more than looking. His feet stopped, and he cocked his head as if listening. He turned to face Arius, who regarded him curiously. “I think we can eliminate his bedroom, the bathroom, and the servant’s room. Everyone knows Prince Lirens is devoted to his wife. He would never bring another woman to his bedroom. So, we can assume the ‘finder’ would be a man the prince would meet with in the parlor or study. We should concentrate there.”
The captain nodded slowly. “That seems sound to me.” After their father’s embarrassing womanizing, both royal brothers were noted and praised for their faithfulness to their spouses.
After shutting the door to the bedroom, eliminating it from consideration, Mardans began pacing, head bowed. “So, what would incriminate him? I can think of only a handful of things: Margonne’s Dagger itself, its scabbard, a set of lock picks, and a glass cutter. Am I missing anything?”
When Captain Arius shook his head, unable to imagine anything else, Mardans forged ahead. “I believe whoever is behind this won’t give up the dagger. It means too much to him. He wants it for himself as a symbol of his right to the throne. To him, it’s a kind of talisman, and he wants to keep it hidden and show it off when he’s won. I think we can eliminate the thief’s tools, too, because they really don’t connect to the dagger—and why would the prince have dared to steal it himself?”
“Which leaves the scabbard,” Arius finished for him.
Mardans shrugged. “Yes, if my thinking is correct. But I don’t have much experience thinking like a criminal or a conspirator.”
“Well,” the captain said, pointing to the dagger hanging at his hip, “we know the general size and shape of a scabbard. But, if I recall, Margonne’s Dagger is somewhat longer than normal. Almost a short sword.”
“Right,” Mardans agreed. “We’re looking for a space that would hold something about a foot long and a couple of inches wide and fairly thin. It’s mostly black leather except for the silver on each end and the golden dragon between them. Turned around, it would be almost invisible in a dark space.”
Both of them slowly walked the perimeters of the two remaining rooms. The captain checked the woodbox and the mantle over the fireplace with care. Mardans pulled back the curtains and checked every sill. Arius pulled up cushions while Mardans ran his eyes along every shelf and his hand on top of the books. He even pulled a chair over to inspect the bookcases’ tops. They looked behind paintings and maps. Nothing.
Hands on hips, they both stood in Lirens’ study, giving the room yet another visual inspection and seeing nothing amiss. Mardans ran a hand through his hair, looking at one wall and then another. Finally, he hung his head. “I must have been wrong. I over-thought things. Nothing’s been planted here.”
Captain Arius sat heavily in one of the side chairs, sighing. “We tried. At least we eliminated the possibility of a—say, Lieutenant, what’s this?” He pointed to the leather blotting pad on Lirens’ desk.
“What do you see?” Mardans asked, coming around to see what Arius was pointing to. A tiny triangle of what looked like paper stuck out from under a corner of the blotter, just enough to be pulled out by a thumb and forefinger. Mardans did just that, extracting, not paper, but a four-inch square of vellum. A fine hand had written on it:
You do not
deserve this.
I do.
A drop of ink had smeared and marred the message. Otherwise, it was an exact facsimile of the note found after the theft in the dagger’s display case in the Grand Gallery.
Mardans sat down in the other side chair and laughed, relieved. “This proves Lirens didn’t do it!”
“How do you know that?” Arius asked, bewildered.
“Lirens couldn’t write this neat if his life depended on it!”
A note:
Prince Lirens married Bettina Thorne in 1156, and they had an almost two-year-old son, Bodnar, named after the original Duke Thorne. As a wedding present, Bettina’s father had gifted the couple with an estate in the Bear Hills, about 80 miles northeast of Blayne. Lirens’ duties obligated him to remain in Palisade or travel with his company for long stretches, but he always longed to return to his home and family. An outdoorsman, he liked nothing better than to ride with Bettina across their lands or hunt deer, elk, and boar in the hills. He and Mardans—born just a few days apart in 1136—were not just half-brothers but remained the best of friends.