Rathbone winced.
“You asked for realism,” she pointed out. “Or does that fall into the category of emotion? You seem to feel some emotion, Sir Oliver.” Now there was mocking amusement plain in her eyes.
He was not prepared to tell her the repugnance he felt. Wellborough was an Englishman. Rathbone was profoundly ashamed that any Englishman should be happy to profit from the killing of people, so long as it did not touch him. There were all manner of sophisticated arguments about necessity, inevitability, choice and liberty. He still found the profit in it repellent. But he could not tell this extraordinary woman this.
“I was playing the part of the jury,” he said smoothly. “Now I am counsel again. Continue with your list of guests, if you please.”
She relaxed. “Of course. There was Rolf Lansdorff, as I have said before. He is the Queen’s brother, and extremely powerful. He has considerable disdain for Prince Waldo. He considers him weak, and would prefer Friedrich to return—without Gisela, naturally. Although I am not sure if that is for reasons of his own or because Ulrike would not tolerate it, and she wears the crown, not he.”
“Or the King?”
Now her smile was genuinely amused, close to laughter.
“I think it is a long time, Sir Oliver, since the King went against the Queen’s wishes. She is cleverer than he, but he is clever enough to know it. And at present he is too ill to fight for or against anything. But what I meant was that Rolf is not royalty. And close as he is, there is all the difference in the world between a crowned head and an uncrowned one. When the will is there and the fight is real, Ulrike will win, and Rolf has too much pride to begin a battle he must lose.”
“She hates Gisela so much?” He found it hard to imagine. Something very deep must lie between the two women that one would hate the other sufficiently to refuse her return, even if it meant the possible victory of those who favored independence.
“Yes, she does,” Zorah replied. “But I think you misunderstand, at least in part. She does not believe that Gisela would add to the cause. She is not a fool, nor a woman to put personal feelings, no matter what they are, before duty. I thought I explained that. Did you doubt me?”
He shifted position slightly.
“I believe everything only provisionally, ma’am. This seemed to be a contradiction. Nevertheless, proceed. Who else was there, apart from Prince Friedrich and Princess Gisela, Count Lansdorff, and, of course, yourself?”
“Count Klaus von Seidlitz was there with his wife, Evelyn,” she resumed.
“His political position?”
“He was against Friedrich’s return. I think he is undecided about unification, but he does not believe that Friedrich would resume the succession without causing great upheaval—and possibly civil division, which could only be to our enemies’ advantage.”
“Is he correct? Might it produce civil war?”
“More guns for Lord Wellborough?” she said quickly. “I don’t know. I think internal disunity and indecision might be more likely.”
“And his wife? Has she loyalties?”
“Only to the good life.”
It was a harsh judgment, but he saw no softening of it in her face.
“I see. Who else?”
“The Baroness Brigitte von Arlsbach, whom the Queen originally chose for Friedrich before he renounced everything for Gisela.”
“Did she love him?”
A curious look crossed her face.
“I never thought so, although she has never married since.”
“And if he left Gisela, might he in time have married her, and she become queen?”
Again the idea seemed to amuse her, but it was a laughter that showed awareness of pain.
“Yes. I suppose that is what would have happened if he had lived, and gone home, and Brigitte had felt it her duty. And she might have, to strengthen the throne. Although possibly he would have found it politic to take a younger wife so that he might produce an heir. The throne must have an heir. Brigitte is now nearer forty than thirty. Old, for a first child. But she is very popular in the country, very admired.”
“Friedrich has no children with Gisela?”
“No. Nor has Waldo.”