Page 24 of The Last Kingdom

A fire burned in a stone hearth. On the mantelpiece an ornate clock chimed 9:00P.M.His brother sat before a table with his stamps spread out before him. Glass cases lined the walls, each filled with hundreds more postage stamps. Some yellowed with age, others bright with flowers, fierce warriors, or long-dead personalities. Each represented, as his brother liked to say,a gummed serrated testament to the rare.Stefan had always thought collecting them a waste of time. Just something done by a beleaguered class of hoarders doomed to frustration because their work was never done, since new stamps were created every day.

“By a typewriter’s error,” his brother said, staring down through a magnifying glass, “this stamp was given the wrong value. So the presses were stopped and the run destroyed. Except for a few, always a few, of which this was one of the survivors.” Albert looked up. “It’s the errors that draw the big money. Ironic, isn’t it, stamps that cannot even be used to mail a letter escalate in value to the thousands of euros.”

“Where is Ludwig II?”

“He’s dead, and has been for a long time.”

His brother was a fleshy man, built like an egg, with sloping shoulders, a wide girth, and stout legs. Like all Wittelsbachs, he had a dense crop of dark hair now frosted gray that matched his skin, which had lost all shades of pigment. Long ago Albert had abandoned any semblance of personal pride, content to gorge on rich food, drink expensive liquor, and collect stamps. He reminded Stefan of the gnomes the locals loved to carve out of pine and sell to tourists. Eight months ago the doctors had told Albert that he had an inoperable brain tumor. They gave him a year, maybe fourteen months at most to live. Not much remained of that time.

He needed to calm down so he walked over, splashed some amber-colored liquid into a tumbler from a decanter, and enjoyed a few sips of whiskey. Finally, he calmly asked, “Where is the body?”

His brother laid the magnifying glass down. “I received a call from the rector a few minutes ago. He told me of your visit to the family crypt. One I did not authorize.”

“I do not need your permission.”

“Actually, you do. I am still the head of this family. What were you doing violating our ancestor’s grave?”

He had no intention of explaining himself, and the rector reporting his visit was not unexpected. Of course, if he’d found what he’d believed was there, none of this would matter.

“Where is Ludwig?” he asked again.

“Not to worry, dear brother. Apparently, our beloved king is safe.”

“You knew the tomb was empty?”

Albert said nothing.

“Answer me.”

His brother nodded. “I had an idea. But I wanted you to find out.”

Stefan had learned that something may have been buried with Ludwig from Albert during one of their rare civil conversations. It happened about the time he learned of his brother’s illness.

“You wanted me to go look?” he asked.

“I was curious. I have been all my life. So I tickled your curiosity and, sure enough, you went. But it took you a while. Father always said you were difficult to prod along.”

Their father had been from another generation. The grandson of the last official monarch of Bavaria, Ludwig III. A duke without a kingdom his entire life. Bavaria had always been a patriarchal society with succession coming only from the male side of the family, the oldest son first in line. Albert had never married. Why? Who knows? His brother’s personal life was of no concern. Truth be told, bachelorhood worked favorably into his plans. What bothered him was that Albert might know something he did not. Something their father may have confided only to the eldest son.

“What were you told?”

His brother stayed seated at the table. “That was something between the duke and his heir.”

He hated those hereditary distinctions, which, by definition, totally excluded him. “Where is Ludwig’s body?” he asked again, the anger growing.

“Adolf Hitler and Dwight Eisenhower asked the same question. They all received the same answer.”

“Why would they be asking?”

His brother pointed an index finger. “For the same reason as you.Das letzte königreich.The question is, though, why do you want it?”

“Finding the last kingdom is good for both of us.”

Albert shrugged. “Not for me. I’ll be dead soon.”

He decided to try being conciliatory. “Would you not like to die a king?”

“I became satisfied with being a duke long ago.”

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