Page 30 of The Last Kingdom

His father had never been a man of many words. But when he did speak, people listened. He recalled one summer day when he and his father had gone fishing. They were out on the boat, alone, when he asked his dad,“How does this boat float?”

“Don’t rightly know, son.”

A little later, he asked, “How do fish breathe underwater?”

“Don’t rightly know that either.”

A few minutes later.“Why is the sky blue?”

Again, his father said, “Don’t know, son.”

Finally, a little frustrated, Luke had said, “Do you mind me asking all these questions?”

His father smiled. “Of course not. If you don’t ask questions, you never learn nothin’.”

He never knew if his father was being funny, serious, or just trying to tell a noisy kid to hush. He learned a lot from his father. The most important lesson?

Get the job done.

So he fled the apartment back to ground level and out into the cold, misty rain. The two intruders were fifty yards down the street, headed away, walking side by side with their hands stuffed into coat pockets. He kept pace as they walked back toward the Altstadt and its pedestrian-only area. Countless streets from every angle broke the normal spoke-and-grid pattern seen in most cities. His two targets bypassed the shopping areas and headed toward the entertainment district. Music echoed from the bars and brasseries.

What was happening here?

These were new players. Out of the grandstands and onto the field.

Somebody else was definitely interested in what Prince Stefan was doing. And whoever that was possessed a solid information network since, after all, the book had been stolen from Herrenchiemsee only a few hours ago. How did they know? Easy. A spy lurked within the prince’s ranks.

And a close one too.

He glanced at his watch. 9:40P.M.

The two guys ducked into one of the beer halls.

He followed them inside and his nostrils caught the familiar waft of heady beer. A tall one would hit the spot right now. The two men wove their way through the noisy crowd to a table toward the rear where another man waited for them. Older, with a drawn, tense face, a receding hairline, and a spade of a white beard sharpening otherwise bland features. His gaunt figure looked even thinner in ill-fitting clothes. Everything about the guy reminded Luke of the stereotypical pilgrim.

The two newcomers sat at the table and handed over the book.

Luke angled over closer and motioned to one of the servers for a beer, keeping an occasional eye on his targets. There was so much commotion that it would be impossible to know if anyone was paying attention. The two delivery boys did not linger, rising from the table and leaving.

Pilgrim remained.

The server returned with his beer. He savored a long gulp. Amazing how often the realization that things had gone wrong coincided exactly with their getting worse.

But his father’s words rang in his head.

If you don’t ask questions, you never learn nothin’.

Damn right.

Chapter 17

STEFAN WAS BACK AT STARNBERGER SEE.

He’d meant what he’d told his brother. Never would he stop. Half of what he’d attempted had paid off. He had the book.

Now he had to build on that start.

Where Albert occupied part of the Nymphenburg Palace, he preferred the smaller, more intimate family residence that bordered the shores of Starnberg. The lake stretched twenty-five kilometers north to south, its southern shores rising to the distant Alps. The old Berg Castle, where Ludwig II spent his last day alive, was gone, replaced by a simple, unadorned house with a garden and park. It was one of the few properties the Wittelsbachs were allowed to retain after 1918. Now it stood among a cluster of other expensive weekend villas, though the Wittelsbach acreage came fenced, with restricted access. A gate led to a path that paralleled the shore, eventually ending at a votive chapel that had been erected long ago at the spot where Ludwig and von Gudden died. Tourists flooded there every day to photograph the wooden cross standing out in the lake. Thankfully, none of those visitors ever bothered him. Apparently, a modern-day Wittelsbach was of little to no interest.