The Wynchesters exchanged glances.
“Reddington, I presume?” asked Philippa. “Bleating orders to his men?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“What is he saying?” Kuni whispered. “It sounds like…” She made incoherent mumbling sounds through her fingers.
“He does sound like that,” Tommy agreed. “Should we stand near a window to hear better?”
“No need,” Elizabeth said. “Reddington’s tirades are all the same, although there’s a new twist. His latest posturing involves him referring to himself in the third person, as ‘His Grace.’”
“Let him do all the posturing he wants,” said Graham. “We have news, too. I located Densmore.”
Stephen’s heart skipped a beat. “Where was he?”
“Dublin. A gambling house. I’m working on extricating him from his latest scrape.”
“Of course he’s in another scrape,” Stephen muttered.
“We’re still in ours,” Elizabeth reminded then. “Come look.”
She led her family into a large parlor whose embrasure overlooked the side garden, where the castle’s eastern perimeter abutted the thicket of trees.
Soldiers in red uniforms emerged from the wall of forest separating Reddington’s property from Castle Harbrook. Reddington was atop his white stallion again, in full regimentals. At his booted heel was a young lad with a bugle to his lips.
Dozens of armed soldiers stood at the ready, flanking Reddington on both sides. To the left and the right, men in red uniforms erected tall canvas tents.
Stephen whistled under his breath. “The tents are new.”
Graham jotted notes in a small journal. “I count ten of them.”
“Camping over here is completely unnecessary.” Tommy held up a hand-drawn aerial map. “Reddington owns the adjacent property.Even following the least hospitable trail, it cannot have taken them more than half an hour to tramp through the woods from his land to ours.”
“Disturbing the peace of countless woodland creatures in the process,” Jacob added.
“Wait until he starts with the drums,” said Elizabeth. “Then no one sleeps. I keep hoping a bear will attack him.”
Jacob shook his head. “There are no bears in these woods.”
“I hoped you’d bring one for luck,” she replied.
Stephen raised his brows at her. “Who would pack a good-luck bear?” he asked.
“I brought twelve raptors, fifteen ferrets, and a python,” Jacob offered.
“See?” Elizabeth smiled at Stephen in satisfaction. “Wynchesters make their own luck.”
From atop his white stallion, Reddington handed a long brass speaking trumpet down to a soldier standing by his side. The soldier lifted the narrow, conical metal tube to his lips and pointed the flared end toward Castle Harbrook.
“Hear ye, hear ye,” the soldier boomed.
“Isthatnew?” asked Jacob.
“Sadly, no.” Elizabeth mimed banging her forehead against the stone wall.
The soldier continued, “We announce the arrival of His Grace—”
“He really does make his followers use a false honorific!” Kuni exclaimed.
