Free Iron Butterflies by Andre Norton Page A

Gräfin shivered. “There was that sentry last year—Wallenstein is still partly garrisoned—and he swore he saw her face at the tower window. She dabbled in evil things. They say that she even had that hexenmeister to her bed and that is why he served her to the death. There were things she might have learned from him—”
    I refused to allow such tales to disturb me. Though I could well believe that such stories might grow up about Wallenstein after the days of Ludovika. Witches had indeed been burned in this blood-soaked land—and there were other evil tales—of man-beast interchanges, for example. No, this was the nineteenth century! I refused to plunge back into the shadows of the past!
    “She is long dead,” I pointed out. “There are no witches. Come, Luise.” I hesitated over her name but used it to draw her out of that strange mood which seemed to hold her. “You and I both know this is nonsense.”
    For a moment there was a sullen droop to her lips, as if she resented my common sense. Then she laughed.
    “Yes, but you have not seen Wallenstein.” Once more she shivered. “It is such a place as one can believe houses ghosts and witches. But—as you say, it is not of our concern. Tell me, Amelia, what did you think of the treasure? It is a pity we could not ascend to the silver room. Perhaps the Elector was visiting that today. They say that since his illness, he often has his chair wheeled along the upper corridors and sits sometimes for hours looking at his collection.”
    I thought of the Colonel on the stairway leading to the upper section of the tower. She might be right inthat guess. So I had been that close to the grandfather I did not know? When would we ever really meet?

Chapter 5
    It was as if the telling of the Electress Ludovika's story had in some manner changed my companion. Her usual vivacious chatter was stilled. She stared straight before her, not as if she saw outwardly at all, but rather regarded some grim picture her own thoughts supplied. By the time we had returned to the Von Zreibruken house she spoke only to plead a headache and left me in the great hall, wondering about the state of her own conscience.
    I followed her upstairs at a slower pace and, as I put off my bonnet in the chamber, which, even in the full glow of the sun, had far too many lurking shadows, I looked into the somewhat cloudy surface of the dressing table mirror.
    Not that my reflection interested me. Rather I was recalling the details of that marvelous work of art— the birthday of the Electress. The words the Gräfin had uttered haunted me. What had it meant for a woman so indulged and pampered, so sure of her charm and power to be immured for life in an ill-omened fortress? Perhaps execution would have been by far kinder. Howlong had she dragged out a miserable existence there, memory always with her? The shadows of this room here and now were in keeping with my thoughts, seemed to draw in closer behind me.
    I must push aside such fancies! They were induced by this room, by Axelburg itself. These shadows might not be the ghosts of common ignorant report, but still they chilled one.
    Resting my chin upon my fists, I resolutely fought my imagination. Until I had come here I had always believed myself a sensible person, not to be seduced by any fancy. Yet now—no, I was not some superstitious fool!
    I would not look at shadows— My face in the mirror seemed overpale. Though why should that not be so? It had now been weeks since I had been in the full sun, riding out each day to oversee the manor work, having the healthy color of one living a well-regulated life. I reached through the slit in my skirt, seeking that inner pocket where I carried my packet. From it I freed the butterfly necklace.
    The miniature Electress Ludovika had been offered gems beyond counting. I had only this chain of iron. On impulse I pulled loose the prim-cut, fine muslin collar set modestly about the throat of my dress. Rolling that