The Two Bears Conspiracy

By Rod Fisher

When Count Alvaro is kidnapped and held for ransom, a sequence of unpredictable events unfold. The beautiful Contessa d'Forte finds she's in an unpredictable whirl of happenstance while in the pursuit to repossess two toy bears containing incriminating reports of her espionage. Caught in the intrigue of smoldering rebellion, a naive young clerk, Bernardo, becomes a competitor, entangled in the same pursuit. Their paths collide as friends and enemies, both racing against time to avoid a charge of treason, unaware that they hold each other's fate in their hands.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rod Fisher
• Release date: Jan 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463213674

Book preview

THE TWO BEARS

CONSPIRACY

By Rod Fisher

Sweet Bee Press

Copyright © 2019 Rod Fisher

CHAPTER 1

The Evasive Houri

Count Alvaro chased the bewitching temptress up the dark stone stairway; she ran swiftly a few steps ahead of him and through a massive iron-studded door. He followed, finding himself in a large room. There were no windows. Long tapestries hung on the walls. The heavy door banged shut behind him with a resounding thud. Alvaro looked around and realized his teasing beauty had disappeared.

A candelabra, on a table in the center of the room, cast a circle of light on a place-setting for one. A shadowed servant, mute and expectant, stood by. Alvaro frowned and became suspicious; he walked deliberately to the door. It was locked. He had fallen into a trap.

Damn that little vixen! he cursed aloud. Then, blaming himself, What an idiot I am! Stupid...foolish, to be tricked into chasing her. He knew now he was a political pawn—a prisoner--at the mercy of the Francobites.

The young Count Alvaro was the son and heir of the Duke of Mondraga. He knew he would be a prisoner until the Duke conceded to some rebel demand, or perhaps a ransom. But the young count could never have predicted his fate would become entangled with a web of intrigue, centered around two toy bears.

* * *

In Monterre it was the first day of May, 1795, a day feted by an annual celebration called the Carnavalle, a full day and night of unrestrained festivities. Count Alvaro, only twenty years of age, had come to the Carnavalle ball in the company of old Baron Bendriani. He was determined to enjoy himself incognito. His own dreary country held nothing to compare with the gala events of Monterre’s Carnavalle.

Earlier, before he was lured into a trap, the young Count and his companion had joined the jubilant revelers in the Marquessa’s palace.

The elegant ball room sparkled with the blaze of candles, flickering in chandeliers. The orchestra was uniformed in courtly elegance. The violinists sawed their bows across the strings in carefully synchronized precision. The soaring melodies sweetly dominated the room and inspired the costumed dancers.

Around the gleaming tiled floor, in the elegant tier boxes, the shyer participants fueled their courage with flutes of sparkling wine, seeking the boldness to participate.

Won't you join me on the floor, handsome jester? I think I know who you are, hiding behind that black mask. A shapely young lady, dressed as an Arabian houri, whispered the sultry invitation. She placed one slim hand on the rim of the tier-box where two jesters were partially hidden by the half-drawn curtains. The multi-colored veils and jeweled mask could not hide her beauty or the twinkle of her black eyes.

The young Count, dressed as a harlequin in black and white, bent forward, admiring the mystery of the slim body, so beguiling in colorful veils. You say you know me. Then why don’t you join us? he invited. Come… join us for champagne here in our box? Perhaps I might know you, as well. He was fascinated by the soft voice and inviting eyes, but she slid sideways out of sight. The orchestra struck up a Strauss waltz, a new dance craze, popular in the courts of Europe. He looked in vain to find her graceful figure in the kaleidoscope of dancers circling the floor.

I wonder why she ran off so fast, he said, turning to the Baron. Why did she bothered to speak to me, then disappear? I’m sure she’s a real beauty beneath that disguise. He pursed his lips in disappointment. She’s a mystery...fascinating! Why did she speak to me, if she didn’t want to join us for a bit of the bubbly?

His shorter rotund companion, Baron Bendriani, whose jester costume was stretched to the limit over a paunchy midriff, said, Oh, it’s to be expected, my Lord. These Monterre lasses are mostly brazen coquettes. Since you are half hidden by that curtain, she probably found that to be somewhat tantalizing. Why I remember once...when I was a young man like you...

Alvaro ignored the other’s reminiscences and continued scanning the dancers. There were other veiled figures passing by, but he did not see his houri.

Why do you look for me on the dance floor when I am so near, whispered a voice, from the adjoining box.

He turned sharply to catch hold of a dainty hand that had crept around the column separating them.

Ah...but you tease, he whispered; please join us.

You must catch me, replied the voice, if you can jump into my tier-box.

Ah...but I can’t do that without letting go of this lovely hand, and a hand, in a hand, is worth two hands in the... he stumbled, trying to say something clever.

She giggled. But it’s a risk you’ll have to take.

Please Lord, stay here, whispered the Baron. You are here in Monterre incognito. You are my responsibility. I must not let your true identity be discovered!

The disguised Count placed his free hand on his consort’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. He leaned closer and held his voice low. "My dear Baron, don’t worry. There is no reason why, for just this one evening, a Count of Mondraga cannot enjoy a little dalliance." Before his companion could object further, he scrambled over the ledge and into the adjoining box, bent on joining his mysterious bright-eyed houri.

As soon as he landed there, the hallway door slammed, telling him the houri was taunting him to follow. The lure of a romantic liaison quickened his pursuit. The hallway behind the tier-boxes was quite empty, but in the direction leading to the foyer, he saw a swiftly disappearing figure. He sprinted in pursuit.

The foyer was a colorful scene of milling confusion. Masked ladies were walking arm in arm with beribboned potentates. Warlocks and troubadours mingled with milkmaids and two-legged dragons. The Count ignored the merry hubbub around him and pushed ahead, through the costumed crowd towards the entrance. He saw some colorful veils floating through the open doors.

The lithesome houri ran down the stone steps, ignoring the two or three masked idlers who spoke to her. She reached the street and hesitated, looking back to make sure he was still following. That second gave the young Count time to sprint down the steps and catch up to her. He grabbed her by a veil just as she climbed through the open door of a carriage. The veil came loose and wrapped around his neck like a scarf. Not discouraged, he jumped in after her. Grinning victoriously, he sat down facing her, unaware he was being kidnapped. The footman slammed the door shut, and the coachman, without waiting for any directions, whipped his team and drove off rapidly, scattering street revelers from his path.

CHAPTER 2

The