It is early morning. The sun has barely risen, but is hiding behind enormous clouds. Yitar leaves the breakfast room at the post station and makes his way to the coach. It is already heavily laden with the travellers' luggage, although the travellers themselves are still standing sleepily beside the coach. The helpers are stowing the last large pieces of luggage on the roof. Then they clear the way, and the coachman climbs onto the box. The passengers are hurriedly ushered into the coach and the doors are closed.
Yitar takes his seat beside the coachman and puts a small, waterproof-wrapped parcel between his feet. He has no desire to sit inside, wedged between all those people, and this is a good opportunity: the official escort has fallen ill and has been absent since the previous station.
The coachman is delighted to have an escort, once he has made certain that Yitar can handle the old shotgun belonging to the coach and is prepared to use it in an emergency. And now the horses pull away and the coach sets off with a rumble.
The post coach has long since left the densely populated countryside behind and is travelling across lonely heathland. Bushes line the road, and occasional groups of trees enliven the landscape. The rain has yet to arrive, but yesterday's downpour has softened the road, and the horses are struggling quite hard. It is a team of four, so this is not an express coach, and the vehicle is rather overloaded.
Further ahead there is an obstacle in the road: a small carriage with a broken wheel is partly blocking the way. The post coach is too large and cumbersome to get past it. Beside the wrecked carriage stands a young lady, while her companion is busy with the horses, which have become entangled in the harness in their panic.
The post coach comes to a halt, and the coachman loudly curses the blocked road and incompetent drivers. Yitar, on the other hand, climbs down and goes over to the unfortunate young man to calm the horses. Once that has been accomplished, the carriage must be moved off the road. The coachman has to lend a hand, something Yitar manages to persuade him of rather diplomatically. One of the passengers joins them.
At last the road is clear again, and all the helpers look as though they have just returned from a mud fight.
The question now arises: what is to be done with the unfortunate travellers? They cannot simply be left there in their predicament. The young lady can be accommodated in the coach; Yitar's seat is free. But the young man cannot leave the horses where they are. He will have to ride one of them and lead the other until they reach somewhere they can be looked after. So he asks how far it might be to the nearest inn.
The coachman knows the route perfectly well and can give him the answer: about a two-hour ride.
They discuss what to do next and decide that the young man will take the horses to the inn and leave them there. Yitar offers the young lady his seat in the coach, and the problem seems to be solved. She accepts the arrangement gratefully, relieved that help has arrived.
Yitar resumes his place on the box and talks as best he can with the young rider. In this way he learns the story of why the pair are travelling.
“We are brother and sister. My name is Antor and hers is Silla,” the young man explains. “We are on our way to the house of an uncle we have never seen. But he has left us an inheritance, and we have to claim it as quickly as possible because there is a time limit attached to it. Which makes this accident all the more annoying. The cause was a snake crossing the road. It frightened the horses ... and I couldn't control them any more.”
The young man looks down in embarrassment.
“It happens to the best of us. Don't let it trouble you. If you are in a hurry, then we should find a solution,” Yitar reassures him.
“I could imagine you leaving the horses at the inn and continuing with the post coach, if you are heading for the same destination as we are.”
Yitar looks firmly at the coachman. The man lowers his eyes and nods.
The young man agrees at once, relieved to have found a solution.
The inn makes a good impression, and the landlord is extremely helpful. He has room in the stable for the horses and can also send a good wheelwright to the scene of the accident to repair the broken wheel. Antor promises to have the horses collected as soon as possible, and everyone is satisfied with the arrangement.
Antor climbs onto the box and settles himself as best he can between the coachman and Yitar, and the journey continues.
In the early evening they reach Lotarham, their destination. The coachman is delighted to be rid of them again, but a generous tip from Yitar soon improves his mood.
They put up at the best inn in town, where they have dinner and freshen up after the journey. Antor sends word to his uncle's house so that someone can come and collect him and his sister.
“Yitar, we would never have reached our destination without you. Won't you come with us and accept our hospitality? We would be so pleased if our acquaintance did not end here.”
Antor looks openly at Yitar, and his sister joins in the request. Yitar considers for a moment, then politely and warmly accepts the invitation.
And so a strange story begins.
After dinner, the carriage sent by their late uncle's household arrives, and they set off on the final part of their journey.
The housekeeper receives them and discreetly leads them to a room at the end of the corridor, its door concealed behind a curtain. The siblings look at one another in bewilderment.
It is a cosy little room. A fire burns in the grate, and in one of the armchairs arranged around it sits an elderly gentleman, calmly watching them.
“So,” he says at last, “these are the heirs. And you have brought reinforcements?”
Antor explains who Yitar is and why they have invited him to accompany them. The old gentleman nods.
“That was your decision. And now you shall learn who I am.” He pauses. “I am your late uncle. The testator.”
The siblings freeze. Silla goes pale, then red, then pale again. Antor leaps to his feet.
“What nonsense is this? How can you sit there so calmly and tell us such rubbish?”
“Not rubbish, but deliberate deception. Sit down again, Antor, and listen to me. There is a reason for this elaborate charade.”
Antor sits down reluctantly, and Silla takes his hand. She needs something solid to hold on to.
“With the help of my doctor, I have faked my death because I have been threatened for several weeks. As you may know, most members of my branch of the family are no longer alive, so you are my natural heirs. The trouble is that I raised the son of my second wife as my own child, and he has grown accustomed to regarding himself as my heir. When he learned of my will, he became furious and felt cheated. I left him a substantial life interest, but that was not enough for him. He left the house in anger, and I have not seen him since.”
He pauses, then continues.
“Since then I have suffered one accident after another, and only narrowly escaped each time. I simply could not understand what he hoped to gain, because once I was dead, my will would come into force – precisely what he did not want. But I have now learned that my will has disappeared and that the previous one has turned up with my estate administrator. That has made the situation considerably more serious.
“So I secretly drew up my will again and handed it to a new estate administrator. Together with him and my doctor, whom I trust absolutely, I spread the rumour of my death and arranged for my funeral to take place the very next day. In that way, nobody could discover the deception.”
Silla and Antor are speechless with shock. Yitar leans back comfortably in his armchair and remains perfectly calm.
“But what can we possibly do? This is straight out of a highwayman's tale!” Antor exclaims.
“Quite simple. You claim the inheritance while I remain hidden, for the time being, and you are exceedingly careful. We have to lure the fellow out of hiding and expose him. To that end, I have prepared this secret chamber in the house as my living quarters. Storvan knows nothing about it. I shall stay here, and you must provide for me in secret. I can trust my housekeeper.
“And if he should appear – officially, of course, you know nothing about his quarrel with me – I shall emerge and confront him with the facts. That could be rather dangerous for you, though.”
Antor looks at Yitar.
“I am sorry that we have dragged you into this. If you would rather leave now, I would understand perfectly. But at least stay the night and leave us tomorrow morning, well rested. You should know, however, that we shall deeply regret your departure. We shall always feel indebted to you, out of gratitude and affection.”
Yitar smiles quietly and answers in an even voice:
“If I can be of any use to you, I shall be happy to stay. I don't much care for people who overstep their bounds. So go ahead and make use of me.”
Antor and Silla take his hands and beam at him.
“Agreed, then. There are four of us now. Storvan is in for a surprise!”
Their uncle smiles. He has successfully assembled his troops and looks to the future with confidence.
The next morning the notary arrives at the appointed hour to open the will. With him comes the new estate administrator.
Immediately afterwards, a young man enters the room without so much as a greeting. He is almost the complete opposite of the brown-haired Antor: blond, slightly stocky, but good-looking and exceedingly self-confident.
The housekeeper and her husband, who looks after the garden, follow him, and now everyone is assembled.
The notary reads the will aloud.
The heirs are Silla and Antor. Storvan inherits a small country estate and a legacy sufficient to provide for him for the rest of his life. A smaller legacy has also been set aside for the housekeeper and her husband, and they are both delighted.
Storvan leaps to his feet and roars:
“What sort of will is this? This is impossible! I am the SON and I have the right to inherit everything! And who is this, anyway?”
He points at the estate administrator, who is sitting perfectly calmly.
The notary remains composed.
“You are the adopted son, while Silla and Antor are the natural heirs as the deceased's nearest relatives. You have been provided for generously. How can you possibly be dissatisfied?”
He turns to the estate administrator.
“Now it is your turn, Mr Komodor.”
Komodor remains seated. He looks Storvan up and down and then says calmly:
“I am the estate administrator appointed by my friend Voltur. He named me when he drew up the new will after the original one had, rather mysteriously, disappeared. Can you explain that?”
Storvan says nothing, but it is obvious that he is boiling with rage.
He turns to leave the room, but Komodor's calm voice stops him.
“By the way, Mr Voltur left me a letter. In it he states that, should any unexplained accidents befall his principal heirs, your inheritance is to be forfeited immediately and you are to receive nothing at all. The letter may be regarded as an appendix to the will, since it was written in the presence of the notary and signed by two witnesses.”
Nothing can restrain Storvan now. Roaring with rage, he leaves the room and slams the door behind him.
Silence fills the room. A thick, suffocating silence.
Then Yitar gets up and opens a window.
That breaks the spell.
The housekeeper and her husband withdraw, and those remaining begin to relax a little. Then the gathering disperses as the notary takes his leave, his duty done.
“One question, Mr Komodor: are you completely familiar with the household here? If so, what about the servants? How loyal are they to Storvan? They all watched him grow up here.”
It is the first time Yitar has spoken.
Komodor nods approvingly.
“You have put your finger on the sore spot, Mr ...?”
Antor now introduces Yitar, and the estate administrator seems satisfied. He looks thoughtful for a moment before replying.
“Yes, I know this household very well. I was an old friend of the testator. The servants are probably divided. The older ones will certainly be inclined towards Voltur and his blood relatives. I am less certain about the younger servants. I can quite imagine that Storvan has supporters and helpers here.”
“Then caution is essential. Because one thing seems certain to me: if something happens, it will not be easy to trace the incident back to Storvan.”
“That is how I see it too, Mr Yitar. You strike me as an experienced man. Will you stay here and keep an eye on the young people?”
“As long as Silla and Antor want me here, I shall stay.”
The siblings immediately assure him that they want him to remain under any circumstances. By now, he is more a friend than a chance travelling companion.
Komodor looks very pleased. He has formed a good impression of Yitar.
He rises and turns to Antor and Silla.
“All the necessary papers are on your uncle's desk in the study. I shall deal with whatever needs to be done with the authorities. You should now take your time getting acquainted with the household and the estates, and with the people – servants and neighbours alike. That will take some time.
“I shall leave you now, but you can reach me at any time if you need assistance. All the best to you both, and until we meet again.”
He gives Yitar a friendly nod as well and leaves the room.
Yitar returns to the window and looks outside. He can see the drive all the way to the road, so he makes certain that Storvan has really left the property.
At Silla's request, the housekeeper calls all the servants together, and Silla and Antor introduce themselves properly. The estate manager has announced that he will come the following morning, so the most important matters are settled and they can turn their attention to lunch.
Under the pretext of obtaining more information, the housekeeper is invited to join them. Yitar sees to that.
He also firmly instructs the brother and sister to eat only what the housekeeper eats.
Surprised and somewhat alarmed, they agree.
Lunch passes in perfect harmony. The housekeeper is a little embarrassed, but nevertheless pleased, while Yitar, Silla and Antor maintain a friendly conversation.
Naturally, they question the housekeeper about the servants, but the subject of their “uncle” is completely avoided.
They follow the same procedure at dinner, and thus get through the day without incident.
Their luggage arrived the previous evening, their rooms are ready and their cases have been unpacked. They can finally make themselves comfortable, and after such an eventful day they are all very tired.
What was still a makeshift arrangement yesterday is already the new household routine today.
The following day is devoted to settling in as well.
Antor gets to know the estate manager and rides around the property with him, while Silla is shown how the household is run by the housekeeper.
Yitar, however, seeks out Voltur in his refuge to discuss what has happened and consider the best course of action.
Voltur has long since accepted him as the protector of his niece and nephew.
They also discuss acquiring a dog for Antor and a cat for Silla, provided the two young people agree.
Everything is arranged, and Yitar is satisfied as well.
Silla is delighted at the thought of a kitten and can hardly wait. Antor, too, is prepared to accept the idea of an affectionate puppy.
Yitar is reassured. The two animals will unobtrusively serve as their food tasters.
For the next few days, nothing alarming happens.
Silla and Antor introduce themselves to their nearest neighbours, whereupon invitations begin pouring in. They also get to know the household servants better.
Antor is attended by his uncle's valet – anything else would have seemed suspicious to the household – while Silla hires a young girl with whom she quickly becomes friendly.
Yitar makes the acquaintance of the stable staff, particularly Voltur's groom, Hama. He is in on the conspiracy, for he enjoys his master's complete confidence. He is also entrusted with Antor's safety.
It is noticeable that Storvan's stable boy has remained in service, and neither Yitar nor Hama trusts him.
In this way Yitar tries to make Antor's surroundings as safe as possible.
He has rather less influence over Silla's surroundings, but he watches her maid very closely. She is the housekeeper's niece and appears to be very devoted to her new mistress.
There is no sign of Storvan. He has not even appeared at the estate he inherited, and this worries Yitar.
Storvan has vanished as completely as though the earth had swallowed him.
Meanwhile Silla and Antor have grown accustomed to riding out in the mornings, and they already have a favourite resting place: a bench on a low hill lightly dotted with trees.
Antor's puppy usually comes along with them and then lies at their feet, tongue hanging out, while they enjoy the view.
This morning the dog is restless. It sniffs around and cannot settle.
Silla becomes uneasy too, so they cut their stay short and soon turn back.
On the way through a little wood, the dog begins to growl.
At that very moment Antor's horse rears to avoid stepping on the dog, which is excitedly crossing the path in front of its feet.
A shot rings out.
The bullet misses Antor by a hair's breadth.
The groom reacts instantly and rushes into the wood to catch the shooter, but there is nobody there. In the distance, the sound of hoofbeats fades away.
The siblings reach the house in a state of great agitation.
That was the first attempt, and it had come within an inch of succeeding.
The dog is the hero of the day and thoroughly enjoys his new status, receiving titbits from the table and extra strokes.
But now the siblings are fully warned, and they begin taking Yitar's security measures seriously.
That soon proves its worth.
Silla's kitten has a fixed place on her bed and usually settles down there before Silla herself goes to bed.
That evening they hear a scream from Silla's room.
Yitar and Antor rush in and find the cat hissing furiously on the bed while Silla's maid is striking at the mattress with a fire poker.
The cause is immediately discovered: a small poisonous snake is trying to escape from the bed.
Antor quickly kills it.
But how did the snake get into the room?
That is the question Yitar is asking himself too.
First, however, they must restore some calm.
Fortunately Silla is merely frightened, not hysterical, and sees no reason why she should not spend the night in her own room.
Antor frowns, but agrees because he does not want to make too much of a fuss.
Yitar takes the girl with him when he leaves the siblings and goes with her to an empty guest room.
First he asks her name, then speaks to her reassuringly and remarks how much he appreciates her presence of mind.
He simply lets her tell him how she became aware of the danger, and by the time she finishes, Issa has calmed down.
Then he asks her how she has settled into the household and which of the servants she likes and which she does not.
It sounds like a casual conversation, and Issa is completely at ease.
“Oh,” she says, “generally speaking, everyone here is very nice. Well, one of the servants is a little too nice, but Auntie says I should simply ignore him. The only problem is the old nursemaid. She has been constantly dissatisfied ever since the young master left. She calls us ungrateful and disloyal. But we're not! We're not his servants, after all. We belong to the old master, and now to his heirs. Or am I wrong?”
“You are absolutely right,” Yitar replies, “and the nursemaid is wrong. On the other hand, her attitude is understandable. She has naturally grown fond of her charge and therefore takes his side. Does she have any friends among the staff?”
“Not really. She always thinks she's better than everyone else. That's why nobody understands why she's so very friendly with the young master's stable boy!”
Issa suddenly looks frightened, having realised what she has just said.
Clearly, this was not something she was supposed to talk about.
Yitar ignores the remark as though he has not heard it, and Issa leaves him feeling completely reassured.
But the information gives him something to think about.
A nursemaid and a stable boy?
A highly unlikely combination. There must be some reason behind it.
Is the nursemaid involved? Does she know something?
But how was the snake transported?
Hmm ... a covered basket?
And how could the nursemaid have gone so far as to become an accomplice to murder?
What is really going on?
When Yitar encounters a maid, he asks her about a covered basket which, he claims, he has mislaid.
She promises to keep an eye out for it, and Yitar lets the matter rest for the time being.
After the evening's disturbance, Silla follows Yitar's advice and has her uncle's doctor summoned.
The rumour is spread that she is gravely ill after being bitten by a snake.
The doctor is taken into their confidence and leaves her room with a grave expression.
It is not long before the nursemaid knocks on the door and enters Silla's room without being invited, knowing that Issa is not there.
She finds Silla lying in bed, drenched in sweat and trembling.
She hands the suffering girl a glass of water which she finds on the bedside table.
Silla turns her head away.
The nursemaid puts the glass back and leaves the room.
Yitar, however, enters, empties the glass, washes it thoroughly and replaces the water.
Silla sits up.
“Is she gone?”
Yitar nods, but advises her to remain in bed, just to be on the safe side.
Antor comes in.
“Is Silla going to die?”
“Not quite yet. We'll wait another day. Let's see what is supposed to happen to you.”
By now they have switched to first names, for they have become companions in a matter of life and death.
Silla sighs.
“A whole day in bed would be lovely if I could enjoy it, but under the circumstances ... By the way, when is Issa coming back?”
“Not before tomorrow. Her mother isn't feeling well, and she has to look after her younger siblings.”
Antor nods.
“Good. Then we don't have to tell her anything. What does Uncle think of the plan?”
“He approves, and he's already very curious to see what happens next. Besides, he's terribly bored being cooped up in that room,” Yitar adds with a grin. “Go and see him from time to time, but be careful, all right?”
The siblings agree.
Antor says, “I'm riding over to our next neighbours this evening with Rollo. They are expecting me at eight. Hama won't accompany me, but he'll follow at a safe distance. I don't feel particularly comfortable being used as bait ...” he admits rather sheepishly.
“That doesn't surprise me. But I shall follow you as well, and I'll take the forester and his dog with me. The housekeeper will stay with you, Silla, along with a maid she trusts. I hope everything will go according to plan.”
“So do we,” Silla sighs, looking anxiously at her brother.
He does his best to appear confident and leaves the room to prepare.
Yitar remains until the housekeeper relieves him, then goes to visit Voltur.
The old gentleman is sitting in his room and is unusually fidgety. He has long since realised that something is afoot and is annoyed because he can do nothing about it.
“I know,” Yitar says, “that you are nearly ill with worry. But it can't be helped. You have exiled yourself, and this is not yet the moment for you to appear. By the way, how much do you trust your valet?”
“Why do you ask? I trust him completely, at least where I am concerned. And I trust him well enough to have asked him to look after Antor. But I have not told him that I am still alive.”
“Then we won't tell him either. But I need someone to stay with you tonight and keep you in sight at all times. What about the housekeeper's husband?”
“He is beyond reproach,” the old gentleman says. “He has proved himself loyal.”
“Good. I'll bring him into the confidence, and he can stand guard over you.”
Yitar tells the old man what they intend to do and how the plan is supposed to work.
He also suspects that the nursemaid may have become suspicious. She has been in the house long enough to know every room – every single one of them!
And her connection with the stable boy Rollo is suspicious enough.
The old gentleman gets up and walks over to the cupboard which serves him as a writing desk. From a drawer he takes out a pistol and several magazines.
Yitar notices that the weapon is clean and well oiled.
“Yes, I have been cleaning and maintaining it as a precaution over the past few weeks. I had a feeling I ought to be prepared,” Voltur explains.
Yitar nods.
“That was a good idea. It makes me feel better. Right, then. I'll fetch the gardener, and you take care of yourself. And not a sound, please!”
Yitar is satisfied.
The stage is set, the actors are prepared, the scene arranged.
Rollo has left the house because he is accompanying the victim.
Hama is officially absent on some pretext, but he is following the two riders on horseback so that he can reach them quickly if necessary.
Yitar has arranged things at the house so that he is free to protect Hama, and because one man might not be enough, he has brought the forester with him.
The dog will certainly be useful. He will give warning.
The housekeeper and her husband can also be relied upon; they are loyal to their master.
Everything humanly possible has been done to ensure the survival of those under Yitar's protection.
He himself goes to the forester's cottage to wait.
That puts him out of the way, and Storvan should feel safe.
A window in the cottage is open, and anyone passing by can see that Yitar and the forester are deeply engrossed in a game of dice.
Meanwhile, all is quiet in the house.
The servants who live there are sitting in the kitchen having supper. Silla lies in her room, supposedly dying, while the housekeeper sits beside her. Only a small night-light is burning; otherwise the room is dark.
Antor is on his way to his neighbours' evening gathering.
Yitar, too, is out of the house.
The nursemaid slips quietly out of her room.
She moves almost silently through the house, listens at one door and then another, and eventually turns back.
On her way to her room, she draws back the curtain in front of the door to Voltur's room.
Everything is silent, but she notices the faint glow of light beneath the door.
She smiles maliciously, lets the curtain fall again and hurries to her room.
There she places a burning candle in the window, extinguishes the remaining light and sits down fully dressed at the little desk.
Antor and Rollo ride briskly, for Antor wants to arrive on time.
As they enter the little wood, Rollo falls slightly behind without Antor noticing.
Suddenly Antor's horse stumbles and throws him off.
He hits the ground hard and briefly loses consciousness.
Rollo now jumps from his horse and bends over the unconscious man.
A knife flashes in his hand.
Then a powerful hand grabs him by the collar and tears him backwards.
A blow to the head sends him unconscious to the ground.
Hama has been watching carefully, and at that very moment Yitar and the forester are already there.
Rollo is bound and tied to his horse while Yitar attends to Antor.
Antor is just coming round.
Yitar checks him and finds that nothing is broken.
Only then does he have time to investigate the cause of the accident.
A rope, stretched very low across the path, had made the horse stumble.
The animal is only slightly injured, but it is limping as it is led back.
The forester takes Antor onto his own horse, for he is still rather dazed, and they ride back to the forester's cottage.
Yitar is now in a hurry to get home.
He leaves Antor with Hama and the forester and rides ahead.
A feeling of unease has seized him.
Protecting Antor has succeeded, but what about Silla?
And above all: what about Voltur?
Yitar does not trust the nursemaid at all.
He is not sure what she knows or suspects, and he smells trouble.
When he reaches the house, he hands his horse over to a stable boy who comes running and hurries up the steps.
His first destination is Silla's room, where everything is quiet.
Thank heaven!
Silla is awake, as is the housekeeper, and both are relieved when he quickly tells them that Antor is safe.
Then he rushes to Voltur's room.
The drawn curtain tells him everything.
He throws himself against the door, which opens readily.
“Well, then we can finally settle matters once and for all, dear foster father, can't we? Don't move!”
Storvan's voice!
He is standing in the middle of the brightly lit room, a pistol pointed at Voltur.
The old man is sitting in his armchair near the fire, both hands resting on the armrests, looking directly at Storvan.
But where is the gardener?
Yitar's sudden entrance distracts Storvan for a moment, and the gardener takes advantage of it.
He has been hiding behind the long curtain at the window.
He throws himself at Storvan and grabs the hand holding the pistol.
Storvan tries to shake him off.
A shot goes off.
At that very instant Yitar is upon them, and a practised pressure to the carotid artery renders Storvan unconscious.
The shot ...
What has happened?
Voltur is kneeling in front of the fireplace, both hands on the floor.
When Yitar rushes to him in alarm, the old gentleman looks up cheerfully.
“Not yet!”
Yitar exhales in relief.
Then he begins laughing almost hysterically and stammers:
“T-that sounds just like you!”
And so the enormous tension finally breaks in the man who has taken it upon himself to protect the inhabitants of this house, but who cannot possibly be everywhere at once.
In the meantime, the gardener has neatly trussed Storvan up, and he now waits to be taken away while they decide what is to become of the criminals.
At that moment the door opens again and the nursemaid enters.
She stands frozen when she sees Storvan bound.
Then she sinks to her knees beside him and wails:
“What have they done to you, my darling! Wait, I'll help you!”
She tries to loosen his bonds.
Yitar pulls her away and pushes her into one of the armchairs.
“You'll stay sitting there now, my good woman, and you'd better not move. As an accomplice to attempted murder, you are facing the gallows, so you'd better keep quiet and behave yourself!”
The poor old maid bursts into tears and says no more.
The gardener calls for his wife, and she takes care of the former nursemaid.
Then everyone involved, more or less willingly, makes their way to the forester's cottage, whose windows are now curtained.
Antor and Silla are summoned and join them.
The prisoners are first seated on chairs and securely tied up.
And then – what?
They cannot exactly call the police without ruining the family's good name.
Storvan knows that as well as everyone else, and his spirits revive.
He grins around the room and lounges in his chair as far as his bonds allow.
“Well? At a loss? Or shall we risk a scandal?” he asks maliciously.
Silla gives him a contemptuous look and Antor growls softly.
Rollo giggles.
Hama looks at Rollo and spits in his face.
Yitar has withdrawn into the background, sitting quietly in the shadows.
The housekeeper and her husband have withdrawn at Voltur's signal.
Voltur looks at his foster son.
“No, we don't want a scandal. It would ruin you as well, by the way, in case you haven't realised that yet, dear ‘son’. But that seems not to matter to you.
“Well, at least you have made your position perfectly clear. We shall act accordingly.”
“You can't do anything to me!” Storvan laughs.
“I don't want to do anything to you!” Voltur replies.
Storvan swallows, taken aback.
Hama, Antor and Silla look up sharply.
What does Voltur mean?
“We are sending you away immediately, and so far away that you won't be able to return any time soon. To the other side of the world, in fact.
“I own a farm there. You can work it if you wish. To make sure you don't simply run away again, my people will see to it that you remain there.
“The island belongs exclusively to me.
“You are all banished for life. You will be taken away as soon as I can arrange the transport.”
Rollo begins to whimper, and the nursemaid looks deeply unhappy as well.
Storvan spits on the floor and says nothing.
Voltur turns to the forester.
“Can you keep the three of them locked up here until tomorrow?”
The forester nods.
“They won't like it,” he observes dryly.
That much is indeed obvious.
Everyone except the three prisoners and the forester returns to the house.
Hama is among them, for he still has a task to perform.
“Well, I have a few letters to write now,” Voltur explains. “And Hama, I'd like you to deliver them tonight. Will you do me that favour?”
Hama nods and sits down in a corner to wait.
Yitar has held his tongue until now, but he must speak.
“I know of a ship that can take the prisoners to their destination. And I am prepared to put them aboard, provided you give me Hama and a coach.
“I intend to leave tomorrow, because my time here has come to an end.”
There is an immediate outcry from the siblings.
They refuse point-blank to let Yitar go.
“We had hoped you would stay with us for a very long time, dear Yitar!” Silla says, looking at him imploringly.
Antor agrees.
“You know this isn't only gratitude. We already think of you as a member of the family. Please stay!”
Yitar shakes his head.
“I've already been here too long. You know the saying: a guest is like a fish. After three days, he begins to smell.
“It is time for me to move on, and I can make myself useful at the same time.
“It is an honour and a pleasure that you have taken me in so warmly, but I am a bird of passage. Don't try to keep me. It won't work.
“But I shall always think of you as my family.”
Voltur looks thoughtfully at Yitar.
“I understand, and I shall not try to stop you. On the contrary, I am grateful to you – for everything you have done for us, and also because you are now taking one more great worry from my shoulders.
“Enjoy the last part of the night with us and get some rest.
“And come back.”
He speaks to Yitar as an equal, and that is how he regards him. At his signal, everyone withdraws to rest for the remaining hours of the night.
The next morning Yitar is already dressed and ready to leave. Hama is ready as well and puts the letters into his pocket, the ones that are to travel with the prisoners. The farewell is brief.
Once the prisoners have been packed into the coach, Hama takes his place on the box, gathers up the reins, and Yitar settles beside him. A final farewell rings out behind them.
Then the coach rolls away into a new story.
