The Traitor's Emblem by Juan Gómez-Jurado Read Free Book Online Page A

his eyes and, for a few moments, he forgot absolutely everything: his fear of Jürgen, the heavy tray, the pain in the soles of his feet from having worked twelve hours straight in preparation for the party. Everything disappeared, because she was smiling at him.
    Alys wasn’t the sort of woman who could take a man’s breath away at first sight. But were you to give her a second glance, it would probably be a long one. The sound of her voice was attractive. And if she smiled at you the way she smiled at Paul that moment . . .
    There was no way that Paul could not fall in love with her.
    “Ah . . . it was nothing.”
    For the rest of his life Paul would curse that moment, that conversation, and the smile that would cause him so many problems. But back then he was oblivious, as was she. She was sincerely grateful to the skinny little boy with the intelligent blue eyes. Then, of course, Alys went back to being Alys.
    “Don’t think I couldn’t have got rid of him on my own.”
    “Of course,” said Paul, still reeling.
    Alys blinked; she wasn’t used to such an easy victory, so she changed the subject.
    “We can’t talk here. Wait for a minute, then meet me in the cloakroom.”
    “With great pleasure, Fräulein.”
    Paul did a circuit of the hall, trying to empty the tray as quickly as possible so he would have an excuse to disappear. At the start of the party he’d been eavesdropping on conversations and was surprised to discover how little attention people paid him. It really was as though he were invisible, which was why he found it strange when the last guest to take a glass smiled and said: “Well done, son.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    He was an older man with white hair, a goatee, and prominent ears. He gave Paul a strange, meaningful look.
    “‘Never has a gentleman saved a lady with such gallantry and discretion.’ That’s Chrétien de Troyes. Apologies. My name is Sebastian Keller, bookseller.”
    “Delighted to meet you.”
    The man gestured toward the door with his thumb.
    “You’d better hurry. She’ll be waiting.”
    Surprised, Paul tucked the tray under his arm and left the room. The cloakroom had been set up in the entrance, and consisted of a high table and two enormous hanging rails on wheels that held the hundreds of overcoats belonging to the guests. The girl had retrieved hers from one of the servants the baroness had hired for the party, and was waiting for him by the door. She didn’t hold out her hand when she introduced herself.
    “Alys Tannenbaum.”
    “Paul Reiner.”
    “Is he really your cousin?”
    “Unfortunately he is.”
    “It’s just that you don’t seem like . . .”
    “The nephew of a baron?” said Paul, pointing to his apron. “This is the latest fashion from Paris.”
    “I mean, you don’t seem like him.”
    “That’s because I’m not like him.”
    “I’m glad to hear it. I just wanted to thank you again. Take care, Paul Reiner.”
    “Of course.”
    She put her hand on the door, but before opening it she turned quickly and kissed Paul on the cheek. Then she ran down the steps and disappeared. For a few moments he scanned the street anxiously, as though she would return, retracing her steps. Then finally he shut the door, rested his forehead on the frame, and sighed.
    His heart and stomach felt heavy and strange. He couldn’t give the feeling a name, so for want of anything better he decided—correctly—that it was love, and he felt happy.
    “So, the knight in shining armor has received his reward, isn’t that right, boys?”
    On hearing the voice he knew so well, Paul turned as fast as he could.
    The feeling changed instantly from happiness to fear.

5

    There they were, seven of them.
    They stood in a broad semicircle in the entrance, blocking the way in to the main room. Jürgen was at the center of the group, slightly to the fore, as though he couldn’t wait to get his hands on Paul.
    “This time you’ve gone too far, Cousin. I don’t like