William Monk 07 - Weighed in the Balance

asked.
    Stephan thought for a moment.
    The judge was watching him.
    The room was almost silent. There was the occasional creak or rustle of shifting in seats.
    Gisela sat rigid. For once there was emotion in her face, as if mention of that old humiliation still tore open a wound. There was tightening of her lips. Her gloved hands clenched. But there was no way of knowing whether it was her rejection or Friedrich’s which she remembered.
    “It was not entirely a matter of feelings from the past,” Stephan answered, looking directly at Rathbone. “New political situations have arisen which make all the old issues of very urgent, current importance.”
    Harvester moved uncomfortably, but he knew it was useless to object. He would only mark it more clearly in the mind.
    “Would you explain, please?” Rathbone pressed.
    “My country is one of a large number of German states,principalities, and electorates.” Stephan addressed the court in general. “We have a language and a culture in common, and there is a movement gathering strength for us to unite under one king and one government. Naturally, in all the separate entities there are those who can see the benefits such a unity would bring and those who will fight with all they possess to retain their individual character and independence. My own country is as divided as any. Even the royal family is divided.”
    Now he had their total attention. Several jurors were shaking their heads. As citizens of an island nation, they could understand, at least with their heads, the passion for independence. With their hearts, they had no concept of the fear of being swallowed. It had not happened to them in fifty generations.
    “Yes?” Rathbone prompted him.
    Stephan obviously disliked having to expose the division in public, but he knew there was no alternative.
    “The Queen and Count Rolf are passionately for independence,” he replied. “Crown Prince Waldo is for unification.”
    “And the Baroness von Arlsbach?”
    “Independence.”
    “Baron von Seidlitz?”
    “Unification.”
    “How do you know this?”
    “He has made no secret of it.”
    “He has advocated it?”
    “Not openly, not as far as that. But he has argued its possible merits. He has become friends with many of those who are highly placed in Prussia.”
    There was a murmur of disapproval in the court. It was perhaps emotional rather than a matter of considered thought.
    “And what were Prince Friedrich’s feelings on the subject?” Rathbone asked. “Did he express any that you are aware of?”
    “He was for independence.”
    “Sufficiently so to act towards that end?”
    Stephan bit his lip. “I don’t know. But I do know that this iswhy Count Lansdorff came to Wellborough Hall to speak to him. Otherwise he would normally have declined any invitation to be in the same house with Friedrich.”
    The judge’s face pinched with concern, and he looked very steadily at Rathbone as if he were on the brink of interrupting him, but he did not.
    “Did he initiate the meeting or did Prince Friedrich, do you know?” Rathbone asked, acutely aware of what he was doing.
    “I believe it was Count Lansdorff.”
    “You say you believe it. Do you not know?”
    “No, I don’t know, not beyond doubt.”
    “And Baron von Seidlitz, why was he there, if his views were opposite? Was some kind of debate planned, an open discussion?”
    Stephan smiled briefly. “Of course not. It is all only speculation. I don’t know if any talks took place at all … which is probably why Klaus von Seidlitz was there … in order to conceal the political aspects of the occasion.”
    “What about Countess Rostova and Mr. Barberini?”
    “They are both for independence,” Stephan replied. “But Barberini is half Venetian, so he appeared a natural person to invite since Friedrich and Gisela live in Venice. It gave it the appearance of an ordinary spring house party.”
    “But it was—in reality, beneath the festivities, the parties and picnics, the hunting, the theatrical evenings, the music and the dinner parties—a deeply political gathering?”
    “Yes.”
    He knew Stephan could not say any offer had been made to Friedrich, or any plea, so he did not ask.
    “Thank you, Baron von Emden.” He turned to Harvester.
    Harvester rose, his expression a curious mixture of anger and anxiety. He strode onto the floor as if he had intense purpose, his shoulders hunched.
    “Baron, were you party to these conspiracies