Amiga CD32/Amiga CD32 1994 - Brilliant PD Games.iso/literature/50.zenda.2

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CHAPTER 9


A New Use for a Tea-table


If I were to detail the ordinary events of my
daily life at this time, they might prove
instructive to people who are not familiar with
the inside of palaces; if I revealed some of the
secrets I learnt, they might prove of interest to
the statesmen of Europe.  I intend to do neither
of these things.  I should be between the Scylla
of dullness and the Charybdis of indiscretion, and
I feel that I had far better confine myself
strictly to the underground drama which was being
played beneath the surface of Ruritanian politics.
I need only say that the secret of my imposture
defied detection.  I made mistakes.  I had bad
minutes:  it needed all the tact and graciousness
whereof I was master to smooth over some apparent
lapses of memory and unmindfulness of old
acquaintances of which I was guilty.  But I
escaped, and I attribute my escape, as I have said
before, most of all, to the very audacity of the
enterprise.  It is my belief that, given the
necessary physical likeness, it was far easier to
pretend to be King of Ruritania than it would have
been to personate my next-door neighbour.  One day
Sapt came into my room.  He threw me a letter,
saying:

"That's for you--a woman's hand, I think.  But
I've some news for you first."

"What's that?"

"The King's at the Castle of Zenda," said he.

"How do you know?,

"Because the other half of Michael's Six are
there.  I had enquiries made, and they're all
there--Lauengram, Krafstein, and young Rupert
Hentzau:  three rogues, too, on my honour, as fine
as live in Ruritania."

"Well?"

"Well, Fritz wants you to march to the Castle with
horse, foot, and artillery."

"And drag the moat?'I asked.

"That would be about it," grinned Sapt, "and we
shouldn't find the King's body then."

"You think it's certain he's there?"

"Very probable.  Besides the fact of those three
being there, the drawbridge is kept up, and no one
goes in without an order from young Hentzau or
Black Michael himself.  We must tie Fritz up."

"I'll go to Zenda," said I.

"You're mad."

"Some day."

"Oh, perhaps.  You'll very likely stay there
though, if you do."

"That may be, my friend," said I carelessly.

"His Majesty looks sulky," observed Sapt.  "How's
the love affair?"

"Damn you, hold your tongue!" I said.

He looked at me for a moment, then he lit his
pipe.  It was quite true that I was in a bad
temper, and I went on perversely:

"Wherever I go, I'm dodged by half a dozen
fellows."

"I know you are; I send 'em," he replied
composedly.

"What for?"

"Well," said Sapt, puffing away, "it wouldn't be
exactly inconvenient for Black Michael if you
disappeared.  With you gone, the old game that we
stopped would be played--or he'd have a shot at
it."

"I can take care of myself."

"De Gautet, Bersonin, and Detchard are in
Strelsau; and any one of them, lad, would cut your
throat as readily--as readily as I would Black
Michael's, and a deal more treacherously.  What's
the letter?"

I opened it and read it aloud:

"If the King desires to know what it deeply
concerns the King to know, let him do as this
letter bids him.  At the end of the New Avenue
there stands a house in large grounds.  The house
has a portico, with a statue of a nymph on it.  A
wall encloses the garden; there is a gate in the
wall at the back.  At twelve o'clock tonight, if
the King enters alone by that gate, turns to the
right, and walks twenty yards, he will find a
summerhouse, approached by a flight of six steps.
If he mounts and enters, he will find someone who
will tell him what touches most dearly his life
and his throne.  This is written by a faithful
friend.  He must be alone.  If he neglects the
invitation his life will be in danger.  Let him
show this to no one, or he will ruin a woman who
loves him:  Black Michael does not pardon."

"No," observed Sapt, as I ended, "but he can
dictate a very pretty letter."

I had arrived at the same conclusion, and was
about to throw the letter away, when I saw there
was more writing on the other side.

"Hallo!  there's some more."

"If you hesitate," the writer continued, "consult
Colonel Sapt--"

"Eh," exclaimed that gentleman, genuinely
astonished.  "Does she take me for a greater fool
than you?"

I waved to him to be silent.

"Ask him what woman would do most to prevent the
duke from marrying his cousin,and therefore most
to prevent him becoming king?  And ask if her name
begins with--A?  "

I sprang to my feet.  Sapt laid down his pipe.

"Antoinette de Mauban, by heaven!" I cried.

"How do you know?'asked Sapt.

I told him what I knew of the lady, and how I knew
it.  He nodded.

"It's so far true that she's had a great row with
Michael," said he, thoughtfully.

"If she would, she could be useful," I said.

"I believe, though, that Michael wrote that
letter."

"So do I, but I mean to know for certain.  I shall
go, Sapt."

"No, I shall go," said he.

"You may go as far as the gate."

"I shall go to the summer-house."

"I'm hanged if you shall!"

I rose and leant my back against the mantelpiece.

"Sapt, I believe in that woman, and I shall go."

"I don't believe in any woman," said Sapt, "and
you shan't go."

"I either go to the summer-house or back to
England," said I.

Sapt began to know exactly how far he could lead
or drive, and when he must follow.

"We're playing against time," I added.  "Every day
we leave the King where he is there is fresh risk.
Every day I masquerade like this, there is fresh
risk.  Sapt, we must play high; we must force the
game."

"So be it," he said, with a sigh.

To cut the story short, at half-past eleven that
night Sapt and I mounted our horses.  Fritz was
again left on guard, our destination not being
revealed to him.  It was a very dark night.  I
wore no sword, but I carried a revolver, a long
knife, and a bull's-eye lantern.  We arrived
outside the gate.  I dismounted.  Sapt held out
his hand.

"I shall wait here," he said.  "If I hear a shot,
I'll--"

"Stay where you are; it's the King's only chance.
You mustn't come to grief too."

"You're right, lad.  Good luck!"

I pressed the little gate.  It yielded, and I
found myself in a wild sort of shrubbery.  There
was a grass-grown path and, turning to the right
as I had been bidden, I followed it cautiously.
My lantern was closed, the revolver was in my
hand.  I heard not a sound.  Presently a large
dark object loomed out of the gloom ahead of me.
It was the summer-house.  Reaching the steps, I
mounted them and found myself confronted by a
weak, rickety wooden door, which hung upon the
latch.  I pushed it open and walked in.  A woman
flew to me and seized my hand.

"Shut the door," she whispered.

I obeyed and turned the light of my lantern on
her.  She was in evening dress, arrayed very
sumptuously, and her dark striking beauty was
marvellously displayed in the glare of the
bull's-eye.  The summer-house was a bare little
room, furnished only with a couple of chairs and a
small iron table, such as one sees in a tea garden
or an open-air cafe.

"Don't talk," she said.  "We've no time.  Listen!
I know you, Mr.  Rassendyll.  I wrote that letter
at the duke's orders."

"So I thought," said I.

"In twenty minutes three men will be here to kill
you."

"Three--the three?"

"Yes.  You must be gone by then.  If not, tonight
you'll be killed--"

"Or they will."

"Listen, listen!  When you're killed, your body
will be taken to a low quarter of the town.  It
will be found there.  Michael will at once arrest
all your friends--Colonel Sapt and Captain von
Tarlenheim first--proclaim a state of siege in
Strelsau, and send a messenger to Zenda.  The
other three will murder the King in the Castle,
and the duke will proclaim either himself or the
princess--himself, if he is strong enough.
Anyhow, he'll marry her, and become king in fact,
and soon in name.  Do you see?"

"It's a pretty plot.  But why, madame, do you--?"

"Say I'm a Christian--or say I'm jealous.  My God!
shall I see him marry her?  Now go; but
remember--this is what I have to tell you--that
never, by night or by day, are you safe.  Three
men follow you as a guard.  Is it not so?  Well,
three follow them; Michael's three are never two
hundred yards from you.  Your life is not worth a
moment if ever they find you alone.  Now go.
Stay, the gate will be guarded by now.  Go down
softly, go past the summer-house, on for a hundred
yards, and you'll find a ladder against the wall.
Get over it, and fly for your life."

"And you?" I asked.

"I have my game to play too.  If he finds out what
I have done, we shall not meet again.  If not, I
may yet--But never mind.  Go at once."

"But what will you tell him?"

"That you never came--that you saw through the
trick."

I took her hand and kissed it.

"Madame," said I, "you have served the King well
tonight.  Where is he in the Castle?"

She sank her voice to a fearful whisper.  I
listened eagerly.

"Across the drawbridge you come to a heavy door;
behind that lies--Hark!  What's that?"

There were steps outside.

"They're coming!  They're too soon!  Heavens!
they're too soon!" and she turned pale as death.

"They seem to me," said I, "to be in the nick of
time."

"Close your lantern.  See, there's a chink in the
door.  Can you see them?"

I put my eye to the chink.  On the lowest step I
saw three dim figures.  I cocked my revolver.
Antoinette hastily laid her hand on mine.

"You may kill one," said she.  "But what then?"

A voice came from outside--a voice that spoke
perfect English.

"Mr.  Rassendyll," it said.

I made no answer.

"We want to talk to you.  Will you promise not to
shoot till we've done?"

"Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr.  Detchard?"
I said.

"Never mind names."

"Then let mine alone."

"All right, sire.  I've an offer for you."

I still had my eye to the chink.  The three had
mounted two steps more; three revolvers pointed
full at the door.

"Will you let us in?  We pledge our honour to
observe the truce."

"Don't trust them," whispered Antoinette.

"We can speak through the door," said I.

"But you might open it and fire," objected
Detchard; "and though we should finish you, you
might finish one of us.  Will you give your honour
not to fire while we talk?"

"Don't trust them," whispered Antoinette again.

A sudden idea struck me.  I considered it for a
moment.  It seemed feasible.

"I give my honour not to fire before you do," said
I; "but I won't let you in.  Stand outside and
talk."

"That's sensible," he said.

The three mounted the last step, and stood just
outside the door.  I laid my ear to the chink.  I
could hear no words, but Detchard's head was close
to that of the taller of his companions (De
Gautet, I guessed).

"H'm!  Private communications," thought I.  Then I
said aloud:

"Well, gentlemen, what's the offer?"

"A safe-conduct to the frontier, and fifty
thousand pounds English."

"No, no," whispered Antoinette in the lowest of
whispers.  "They are treacherous."

"That seems handsome," said I, reconnoitring
through the chink.  They were all close together,
just outside the door now.

I had probed the hearts of the ruffians, and I did
not need Antoinette's warning.  They meant to
"rush" me as soon as I was engaged in talk.

"Give me a minute to consider," said I; and I
thought I heard a laugh outside.

I turned to Antoinette.

"Stand up close to the wall, out of the line of
fire from the door," I whispered.

"What are you going to do?" she asked in fright.

"You'll see," said I.

I took up the little iron table.  It was not very
heavy for a man of my strength, and I held it by
the legs.  The top, protruding in front of me,
made a complete screen for my head and body.  I
fastened my closed lantern to my belt and put my
revolver in a handy pocket.  Suddenly I saw the
door move ever so slightly-- perhaps it was the
wind, perhaps it was a hand trying it outside.

I drew back as far as I could from the door,
holding the table in the position that I have
described.  Then I called out:

"Gentlemen, I accept your offer, relying on your
honour.  If you will open the door--"

"Open it yourself," said Detchard.

"It opens outwards," said I.  "Stand back a
little, gentlemen, or I shall hit you when I open
it."

I went and fumbled with the latch.  Then I stole
back to my place on tiptoe.

"I can't open it!" I cried.  "The latch has
caught."

"Tut!  I'll open it!" cried Detchard.  "Nonsense,
Bersonin, why not?  Are you afraid of one man?"

I smiled to myself.  An instant later the door was
flung back.  The gleam of a lantern showed me the
three close together outside, their revolvers
levelled.  With a shout, I charged at my utmost
pace across the summer-house and through the
doorway.  Three shots rang out and battered into
my shield.  Another moment, and I leapt out and
the table caught them full and square, and in a
tumbling, swearing, struggling mass, they and I
and that brave table, rolled down the steps of the
summerhouse to the ground below.  Antoinette de
Mauban shrieked, but I rose to my feet, laughing
aloud.

De Gautet and Bersonin lay like men stunned.
Detchard was under the table, but, as I rose, he
pushed it from him and fired again.  I raised my
revolver and took a snap shot; I heard him curse,
and then I ran like a hare, laughing as I went,
past the summer-house and along by the wall.  I
heard steps behind me, and turning round I fired
again for luck.  The steps ceased.

"Please God," said I, "she told me the truth about
the ladder!" for the wall was high and topped with
iron spikes.

Yes, there it was.  I was up and over in a minute.
Doubling back, I saw the horses; then I heard a
shot.  It was Sapt.  He had heard us, and was
battling and raging with the locked gate,
hammering it and firing into the keyhole like a
man possessed.  He had quite forgotten that he was
not to take part in the fight.  Whereat I laughed
again, and said, as I clapped him on the shoulder:

"Come home to bed, old chap.  I've got the finest
tea-table story that ever you heard!"

He started and cried:  "You're safe!" and wrung my
hand.  But a moment later he added:

"And what the devil are you laughing at?"

"Four gentlemen round a tea-table," said I,
laughing still, for it had been uncommonly
ludicrous to see the formidable three altogether
routed and scattered with no more deadly weapon
than an ordinary tea-table.

Moreover, you will observe that I had honourably
kept my word, and not fired till they did.



CHAPTER 10


A Great Chance for a Villain


It was the custom that the Prefect of Police
should send every afternoon a report to me on the
condition of the capital and the feeling of the
people:  the document included also an account of
the movements of any persons whom the police had
received instructions to watch.  Since I had been
in Strelsau, Sapt had been in the habit of reading
the report and telling me any items of interest
which it might contain.  On the day after my
adventure in the summer-house, he came in as I was
playing a hand of ecarte with Fritz von
Tarlenheim.

"The report is rather full of interest this
afternoon," he observed, sitting down.

"Do you find," I asked, "any mention of a certain
fracas?"

He shook his head with a smile.

"I find this first," he said:  ""His Highness the
Duke of Strelsau left the city (so far as it
appears, suddenly), accompanied by several of his
household.  His destination is believed to be the
Castle of Zenda, but the party travelled by road
and not by train.  MM De Gautet, Bersonin, and
Detchard followed an hour later, the last-named
carrying his arm in a sling.  The cause of his
wound is not known, but it is suspected that he
has fought a duel, probably incidental to a love
affair.""

"That is remotely true," I observed, very well
pleased to find that I had left my mark on the
fellow.

"Then we come to this," pursued Sapt:  ""Madame de
Mauban, whose movements have been watched
according to instructions, left by train at
midday.  She took a ticket for Dresden--"

"It's an old habit of hers," said I.

""The Dresden train stops at Zenda." An acute
fellow, this.  And finally listen to this:  "The
state of feeling in the city is not satisfactory.
The King is much criticized" (you know, he's told
to be quite frank) "for taking no steps about his
marriage.  From enquiries among the entourage of
the Princess Flavia, her Royal Highness is
believed to be deeply offended by the remissness
of his Majesty.  The common people are coupling
her name with that of the Duke of Strelsau, and
the duke gains much popularity from the
suggestion.  I have caused the announcement that
the King gives a ball tonight in honour of the
princess to be widely diffused, and the effect is
good."

"That is news to me," said I.

"Oh, the preparations are all made!" laughed
Fritz.  "I've seen to that."

Sapt turned to me and said, in a sharp, decisive
voice:

"You must make love to her tonight, you know."

"I think it is very likely I shall, if I see her
alone," said I.  "Hang it, Sapt, you don't suppose
I find it difficult?"

Fritz whistled a bar or two; then he said:
"You'll find it only too easy.  Look here, I hate
telling you this, but I must.  The Countess Helga
told me that the princess had become most attached
to the King.  Since the coronation, her feelings
have undergone a marked development.  It's quite
true that she is deeply wounded by the King's
apparent neglect."

"Here's a kettle of fish!" I groaned.

"Tut, tut!" said Sapt.  "I suppose you've made
pretty speeches to a girl before now?  That's all
she wants."

Fritz, himself a lover, understood better my
distress.  He laid his hand on my shoulder, but
said nothing.

"I think, though," pursued that cold-blooded old
Sapt, "that you'd better make your offer tonight."

"Good heavens!"

"Or, any rate, go near it:  and I shall send a
"semi-official" to the papers."

"I'll do nothing of the sort--no more will you!"
said I.  "I utterly refuse to take part in making
a fool of the princess."

Sapt looked at me with his small keen eyes.  A
slow cunning smile passed over his face.

"All right, lad, all right," said he.  "We mustn't
press you too hard.  Soothe her down a bit, if you
can, you know.  Now for Michael!"

"Oh, damn Michael!" said I.  "He'll do tomorrow.
Here, Fritz, come for a stroll in the garden."

Sapt at once yielded.  His rough manner covered a
wonderful tact-- and as I came to recognize more
and more, a remarkable knowledge of human nature.
Why did he urge me so little about the princess?
Because he knew that her beauty and my ardour
would carry me further than all his arguments--and
that the less I thought about the thing, the more
likely was I to do it.  He must have seen the
unhappiness he might bring on the princess; but
that went for nothing with him.  Can I say,
confidently, that he was wrong?  If the King were
restored, the princess must turn to him, either
knowing or not knowing the change.  And if the
King were not restored to us?  It was a subject
that we had never yet spoken of.  But I had an
idea that, in such a case, Sapt meant to seat me
on the throne of Ruritania for the term of my
life.  He would have set Satan himself there
sooner than that pupil of his, Black Michael.


The ball was a sumptuous affair.  I opened it by dancing
a quadrille with Flavia:  then I waltzed with her.
Curious eyes and eager whispers attended us.  We
went in to supper; and, half way through, I, half
mad by then, for her glance had answered mine, and
her quick breathing met my stammered sentences-- I
rose in my place before all the brilliant crowd,
and taking the Red Rose that I wore, flung the
ribbon with its jewelled badge round her neck.  In
a tumult of applause I sat down:  I saw Sapt
smiling over his wine, and Fritz frowning.  The
rest of the meal passed in silence; neither Flavia
nor I could speak.  Fritz touched me on the
shoulder, and I rose, gave her my arm, and walked
down the hall into a little room,where coffee was
served to us.  The gentlemen and ladies in
attendance withdrew,and we were alone.

The little room had French windows opening on the
gardens.  The night was fine, cool, and fragrant.
Flavia sat down, and I stood opposite her.  I was
struggling with myself:  if she had not looked at
me, I believe that even then I should have won my
fight.  But suddenly, involuntarily, she gave me
one brief glance --a glance of question, hurriedly
turned aside; a blush that the question had ever
come spread over her cheek, and she caught her
breath.  Ah, if you had seen her!  I forgot the
King in Zenda.  I forgot the King in Strelsau.
She was a princess-- and I an impostor.  Do you
think I remembered that?  I threw myself on my
knee and seized her hands in mine.  I said
nothing.  Why should I?  The soft sounds of the
night set my wooing to a wordless melody, as I
pressed my kisses on her lips.

She pushed me from her, crying suddenly:

"Ah!  is it true?  or is it only because you
must?"

"It's true!" I said, in low smothered tones--
"true that I love you more than life--or truth--or
honour!"

She set no meaning to my words, treating them as
one of love's sweet extravagances.  She came close
to me, and whispered:

"Oh, if you were not the King!  Then I could show
you how I love you!  How is it that I love you
now, Rudolf?"

"Now?"

"Yes--just lately.  I--I never did before."

Pure triumph filled me.  It was I--Rudolf
Rassendyll-- who had won her!  I caught her round
the waist.

"You didn't love me before?" I asked.

She looked up into my face, smiling, as she
whispered:

"It must have been your Crown.  I felt it first on
the Coronation Day."

"Never before?" I asked eagerly.

She laughed low.

"You speak as if you would be pleased to hear me
say "Yes" to that," she said.

"Would "Yes" be true?"

"Yes," I just heard her breathe, and she went on
in an instant:  "Be careful, Rudolf; be careful,
dear.  He will be mad now."

"What, Michael?  If Michael were the worst--"

"What worse is there?"

There was yet a chance for me.  Controlling myself
with a mighty effort, I took my hands off her and
stood a yard or two away.  I remember now the note
of the wind in the elm trees outside.

"If I were not the King," I began, "if I were only
a private gentleman--"

Before I could finish, her hand was in mine.

"If you were a convict in the prison of Strelsau,
you would be my King," she said.

And under my breath I groaned, "God forgive me!"
and, holding her hand in mine, I said again:

"If I were not the King--"

"Hush, hush!" she whispered.  "I don't deserve
it--I don't deserve to be doubted.  Ah, Rudolf!
does a woman who marries without love look on the
man as I look on you?"

And she hid her face from me.

For more than a minute we stood there together;
and I, even with my arm about her, summoned up
what honour and conscience her beauty and the
toils that I was in had left me.

"Flavia," I said, in a strange dry voice that
seemed not my own, "I am not--"

As I spoke--as she raised her eyes to me--there
was a heavy step on the gravel outside, and a man
appeared at the window.  A little cry burst from
Flavia, as she sprang back from me.  My
half-finished sentence died on my lips.  Sapt
stood there, bowing low, but with a stern frown on
his face.

"A thousand pardons, sire," said he, "but his
Eminence the Cardinal has waited this quarter of
an hour to offer his respectful adieu to your
Majesty."

I met his eye full and square; and I read in it an
angry warning.  How long he had been a listener I
knew not, but he had come in upon us in the nick
of time.

"We must not keep his Eminence waiting," said I.

But Flavia, in whose love there lay no shame, with
radiant eyes and blushing face, held out her hand
to Sapt.  She said nothing, but no man could have
missed her meaning, who had ever seen a woman in
the exultation of love.  A sour, yet sad, smile
passed over the old soldier's face, and there was
tenderness in his voice, as bending to kiss her
hand, he said:

"In joy and sorrow, in good times and bad, God
save your Royal Highness!"

He paused and added, glancing at me and drawing
himself up to military erectness:

"But, before all comes the King--God save the
King!"

And Flavia caught at my hand and kissed it,
murmuring:

"Amen!  Good God, Amen!"

We went into the ballroom again.  Forced to
receive adieus, I was separated from Flavia:
everyone, when they left me, went to her.  Sapt
was out and in of the throng, and where he had
been, glances, smiles, and whispers were rife.  I
doubted not that, true to his relentless purpose,
he was spreading the news that he had learnt.  To
uphold the Crown and beat Black Michael--that was
his one resolve.  Flavia, myself--ay, and the real
King in Zenda, were pieces in his game; and pawns
have no business with passions.  Not even at the
walls of the Palace did he stop; for when at last
I handed Flavia down the broad marble steps and
into her carriage, there was a great crowd
awaiting us, and we were welcomed with deafening
cheers.  What could I do?  Had I spoken then, they
would have refused to believe that I was not the
King; they might have believed that the King had
run mad.  By Sapt's devices and my own ungoverned
passion I had been forced on, and the way back had
closed behind me; and the passion still drove me
in the same direction as the devices seduced me.
I faced all Strelsau that night as the King and
the accepted suitor of the Princess Flavia.

At last, at three in the morning, when the cold
light of dawning day began to steal in, I was in
my dressing-room, and Sapt alone was with me.  I
sat like a man dazed, staring into the fire; he
puffed at his pipe; Fritz was gone to bed, having
almost refused to speak to me.  On the table by me
lay a rose; it had been in Flavia's dress, and, as
we parted, she had kissed it and given it to me.

Sapt advanced his hand towards the rose, but, with
a quick movement, I shut mine down upon it.

"That's mine," I said, "not yours--nor the King's
either."

"We struck a good blow for the King tonight," said
he.

I turned on him fiercely.

"What's to prevent me striking a blow for myself?"
I said.

He nodded his head.

"I know what's in your mind," he said.  "Yes, lad;
but you're bound in honour."

"Have you left me any honour?"

"Oh, come, to play a little trick on a girl--"

"You can spare me that.  Colonel Sapt, if you
would not have me utterly a villain--if you would
not have your King rot in Zenda, while Michael and
I play for the great stake outside-- You follow
me?"

"Ay, I follow you."

"We must act, and quickly!  You saw tonight--you
heard--tonight--"

"I did," said he.

"Your cursed acuteness told you what I should do.
Well, leave me here a week--and there's another
problem for you.  Do you find the answer?"

"Yes, I find it," he answered, frowning heavily.
"But if you did that, you'd have to fight me
first--and kill me."

"Well, and if I had--or a score of men?  I tell
you, I could raise all Strelsau on you in an hour,
and choke you with your lies-- yes, your mad
lies--in your mouth."

"It's gospel truth," he said--"thanks to my advice
you could."

"I could marry the princess, and send Michael and
his brother together to--"

"I'm not denying it, lad," said he.

"Then, in God's name," I cried, stretching out my
hands to him, "let us go to Zenda and crush this
Michael and bring the King back to his own again."
The old fellow stood and looked at me for full a
minute.

"And the princess?" he said.

I bowed my head to meet my hands, and crushed the
rose between my fingers and my lips.

I felt his hand on my shoulder, and his voice
sounded husky as he whispered low in my ear:

"Before God, you're the finest Elphberg of them
all.  But I have eaten of the King's bread, and I
am the King's servant.  Come, we will go to
Zenda!"

And I looked up and caught him by the hand.  And
the eyes of both of us were wet.




 CHAPTER 11


Hunting a Very Big Boar


The terrible temptation which was assailing me
will now be understood.  I could so force
Michael's hand that he must kill the King.  I was
in a position to bid him defiance and tighten my
grasp on the crown-- not for its own sake, but
because the King of Ruritania was to wed the
Princess Flavia.  What of Sapt and Fritz?  Ah!
but a man cannot be held to write down in cold
blood the wild and black thoughts that storm his
brain when an uncontrolled passion has battered a
breach for them.  Yet, unless he sets up as a
saint, he need not hate himself for them.  He is
better employed, as it humbly seems to me, in
giving thanks that power to resist was vouchsafed
to him, than in fretting over wicked impulses
which come unsought and extort an unwilling
hospitality from the weakness of our nature.

It was a fine bright morning when I walked,
unattended, to the princess's house, carrying a
nosegay in my hand.  Policy made excuses for love,
and every attention that I paid her, while it
riveted my own chains, bound closer to me the
people of the great city, who worshipped her.  I
found Fritz's inamorata, the Countess Helga,
gathering blooms in the garden for her mistress's
wear, and prevailed on her to take mine in their
place.  The girl was rosy with happiness, for
Fritz, in his turn, had not wasted his evening,
and no dark shadow hung over his wooing, save the
hatred which the Duke of Strelsau was known to
bear him.

"And that," she said, with a mischievous smile,
"your Majesty has made of no moment.  Yes, I will
take the flowers; shall I tell you, sire, what is
the first thing the princess does with them?"

We were talking on a broad terrace that ran along
the back of the house, and a window above our
heads stood open.

"Madame!" cried the countess merrily, and Flavia
herself looked out.  I bared my head and bowed.
She wore a white gown, and her hair was loosely
gathered in a knot.  She kissed her hand to me,
crying:

"Bring the King up, Helga; I'll give him some
coffee."

The countess, with a gay glance, led the way, and
took me into Flavia's morning-room.  And, left
alone, we greeted one another as lovers are wont.
Then the princess laid two letters before me.  One
was from Black Michael--a most courteous request
that she would honour him by spending a day at his
Castle of Zenda, as had been her custom once a
year in the summer, when the place and its gardens
were in the height of their great beauty.  I threw
the letter down in disgust, and Flavia laughed at
me.  Then, growing grave again, she pointed to the
other sheet.

"I don't know who that comes from," she said.
"Read it."

I knew in a moment.  There was no signature at all
this time, but the handwriting was the same as
that which had told me of the snare in the
summer-house:  it was Antoinette de Mauban's.

"I have no cause to love you," it ran, "but God
forbid that you should fall into the power of the
duke.  Accept no invitations of his.  Go nowhere
without a large guard--a regiment is not too much
to make you safe.  Show this, if you can, to him
who reigns in Strelsau."

"Why doesn't it say "the King"?" asked Flavia,
leaning over my shoulder, so that the ripple of
her hair played on my cheek.  "Is it a hoax?"

"As you value life, and more than life, my queen,"
I said, "obey it to the very letter.  A regiment
shall camp round your house today.  See that you
do not go out unless well guarded."

"An order, sire?" she asked, a little rebellious.

"Yes, an order, madame--if you love me."

"Ah!" she cried; and I could not but kiss her.

"You know who sent it?" she asked.

"I guess," said I.  "It is from a good friend--and
I fear, an unhappy woman.  You must be ill,
Flavia, and unable to go to Zenda.  Make your
excuses as cold and formal as you like."

"So you feel strong enough to anger Michael?" she
said, with a proud smile.

"I'm strong enough for anything, while you are
safe," said I.

Soon I tore myself away from her, and then,
without consulting Sapt, I took my way to the
house of Marshal Strakencz.  I had seen something
of the old general, and I liked and trusted him.
Sapt was less enthusiastic, but I had learnt by
now that Sapt was best pleased when he could do
everything, and jealousy played some part in his
views.  As things were now, I had more work than
Sapt and Fritz could manage, for they must come
with me to Zenda, and I wanted a man to guard what
I loved most in all the world, and suffer me to
set about my task of releasing the King with a
quiet mind.

The Marshal received me with most loyal kindness.
To some extent, I took him into my confidence.  I
charged him with the care of the princess, looking
him full and significantly in the face as I bade
him let no one from her cousin the duke approach
her, unless he himself were there and a dozen of
his men with him.

"You may be right, sire," said he, shaking his
grey head sadly.  "I have known better men than
the duke do worse things than that for love."

I could quite appreciate the remark, but I said:

"There's something beside love, Marshal.  Love's
for the heart; is there nothing my brother might
like for his head?"

"I pray that you wrong him, sire."

"Marshal, I'm leaving Strelsau for a few days.
Every evening I will send a courier to you.  If
for three days none comes, you will publish an
order which I will give you, depriving Duke
Michael of the governorship of Strelsau and
appointing you in his place.  You will declare a
state of siege.  Then you will send word to
Michael that you demand an audience of the
King--You follow me?"

"Ay, sire."

"--In twenty-four hours.  If he does not produce
the King" (I laid my hand on his knee), "then the
King is dead, and you will proclaim the next heir.
You know who that is?"

"The Princess Flavia."

"And swear to me, on your faith and honour and by
the fear of the living God, that you will stand by
her to the death, and kill that reptile, and seat
her where I sit now."

"On my faith and honour, and by the fear of God, I
swear it!  And may Almighty God preserve your
Majesty, for I think that you go on an errand of
danger."

"I hope that no life more precious than mine may
be demanded," said I, rising.  Then I held out my
hand to him.

"Marshal," I said, "in days to come, it may be--I
know not-- that you will hear strange things of
the man who speaks to you now.  Let him be what he
may, and who he may, what say you of the manner in
which he has borne himself as King in Strelsau?"

The old man, holding my hand, spoke to me, man to
man.

"I have known many of the Elphbergs," said he,
"and I have seen you.  And, happen what may, you
have borne yourself as a wise King and a brave
man; ay, and you have proved as courteous a
gentleman and as gallant a lover as any that have
been of the House."

"Be that my epitaph," said I, "when the time comes
that another sits on the throne of Ruritania."

"God send a far day, and may I not see it!" said
he.

I was much moved, and the Marshal's worn face
twitched.  I sat down and wrote my order.

"I can hardly yet write," said I; "my finger is
stiff still."

It was, in fact, the first time that I had
ventured to write more than a signature; and in
spite of the pains I had taken to learn the King's
hand, I was not yet perfect in it.

"Indeed, sire," he said, "it differs a little from
your ordinary handwriting.  It is unfortunate, for
it may lead to a suspicion of forgery."

"Marshal," said I, with a laugh, "what use are the
guns of Strelsau, if they can't assuage a little
suspicion?"

He smiled grimly, and took the paper.

"Colonel Sapt and Fritz von Tarlenheim go with
me," I continued.

"You go to seek the duke?" he asked in a low tone.

"Yes, the duke, and someone else of whom I have
need, and who is at Zenda," I replied.

"I wish I could go with you," he cried, tugging at
his white moustache.  "I'd like to strike a blow
for you and your crown."

"I leave you what is more than my life and more
than my crown," said I, "because you are the man I
trust more than all other in Ruritania."

"I will deliver her to you safe and sound," said
he, "and, failing that, I will make her queen."

We parted, and I returned to the Palace and told
Sapt and Fritz what I had done.  Sapt had a few
faults to find and a few grumbles to utter.  This
was merely what I expected, for Sapt liked to be
consulted beforehand, not informed afterwards; but
on the whole he approved of my plans, and his
spirits rose high as the hour of action drew
nearer and nearer.  Fritz, too, was ready; though
he, poor fellow, risked more than Sapt did, for he
was a lover, and his happiness hung in the scale.
Yet how I envied him!  For the triumphant issue
which would crown him with happiness and unite him
to his mistress, the success for which we were
bound to hope and strive and struggle, meant to me
sorrow more certain and greater than if I were
doomed to fail.  He understood something of this,
for when we were alone (save for old Sapt, who was
smoking at the other end of the room) he passed
his arm through mine, saying:

"It's hard for you.  Don't think I don't trust
you; I know you have nothing but true thoughts in
your heart."

But I turned away from him, thankful that he could
not see what my heart held, but only be witness to
the deeds that my hands were to do.

Yet even he did not understand, for he had not
dared to lift his eyes to the Princess Flavia, as
I had lifted mine.

Our plans were now all made, even as we proceeded
to carry them out, and as they will hereafter
appear.  The next morning we were to start on the
hunting excursion.  I had made all arrangements
for being absent, and now there was only one thing
left to do--the hardest, the most heart-breaking.
As evening fell, I drove through the busy streets
to Flavia's residence.  I was recognized as I went
and heartily cheered.  I played my part, and made
shift to look the happy lover.  In spite of my
depression, I was almost amused at the coolness
and delicate hauteur with which my sweet lover
received me.  She had heard that the King was
leaving Strelsau on a hunting expedition.

"I regret that we cannot amuse your Majesty here
in Strelsau," she said, tapping her foot lightly
on the floor.  "I would have offered you more
entertainment, but I was foolish enough to
think--"

"Well, what?" I asked, leaning over her.

"That just for a day or two after--after last
night--you might be happy without much gaiety;"
and she turned pettishly from me, as she added, "I
hope the boars will be more engrossing."

"I'm going after a very big boar," said I; and,
because I could not help it, I began to play with
her hair, but she moved her head away.

"Are you offended with me?" I asked, in feigned
surprise, for I could not resist tormenting her a
little.  I had never seen her angry, and every
fresh aspect of her was a delight to me.

"What right have I to be offended?  True, you said
last night that every hour away from me was
wasted.  But a very big boar!  that's a different
thing."

"Perhaps the boar will hunt me," I suggested.
"Perhaps, Flavia, he'll catch me."

She made no answer.

"You are not touched even by that danger?"

Still she said nothing; and I, stealing round,
found her eyes full of tears.

"You weep for my danger?"

Then she spoke very low:

"This is like what you used to be; but not like
the King-- the King I--I have come to love!"

With a sudden great groan, I caught her to my
heart.

"My darling!" I cried, forgetting everything but
her, "did you dream that I left you to go
hunting?"

"What then, Rudolf?  Ah!  you're not going--?"

"Well, it is hunting.  I go to seek Michael in his
lair."

She had turned very pale.

"So, you see, sweet, I was not so poor a lover as
you thought me.  I shall not be long gone."

"You will write to me, Rudolf?"

I was weak, but I could not say a word to stir
suspicion in her.

"I'll send you all my heart every day," said I.

"And you'll run no danger?"

"None that I need not."

"And when will you be back?  Ah, how long will it
be!"

"When shall I be back?" I repeated.

"Yes, yes!  Don't be long, dear, don't be long.  I
shan't sleep while you're away."

"I don't know when I shall be back," said I.

"Soon, Rudolf, soon?"

"God knows, my darling.  But, if never--"

"Hush, hush!" and she pressed her lips to mine.

"If never," I whispered, "you must take my place;
you'll be the only one of the House then.  You
must reign, and not weep for me."

For a moment she drew herself up like a very
queen.

"Yes, I will!" she said.  "I will reign.  I will
do my part though all my life will be empty and my
heart dead; yet I'll do it!"

She paused, and sinking against me again, wailed
softly.

"Come soon!  come soon!"

Carried away, I cried loudly:

"As God lives, I--yes, I myself--will see you once
more before I die!"

"What do you mean?" she exclaimed, with wondering
eyes; but I had no answer for her, and she gazed
at me with her wondering eyes.

I dared not ask her to forget, she would have
found it an insult.  I could not tell her then who
and what I was.  She was weeping, and I had but to
dry her tears.

"Shall a man not come back to the loveliest lady
in all the wide world?" said I.  "A thousand
Michaels should not keep me from you!"

She clung to me, a little comforted.

"You won't let Michael hurt you?"

"No, sweetheart."

"Or keep you from me?"

"No, sweetheart."

"Nor anyone else?"

And again I answered:

"No, sweetheart."

Yet there was one--not Michael--who, if he lived,
must keep me from her; and for whose life I was
going forth to stake my own.  And his figure--the
lithe, buoyant figure I had met in the woods of
Zenda--the dull, inert mass I had left in the
cellar of the hunting-lodge--seemed to rise,
double-shaped, before me, and to come between us,
thrusting itself in even where she lay, pale,
exhausted, fainting, in my arms, and yet looking
up at me with those eyes that bore such love as I
have never seen, and haunt me now, and will till
the ground closes over me-- and (who knows?)
perhaps beyond.




CHAPTER 12


I Receive a Visitor and Bait a Hook


About five miles from Zenda--on the opposite side
from that on which the Castle is situated, there
lies a large tract of wood.  It is rising ground,
and in the centre of the demesne, on the top of
the hill, stands a fine modern chateau, the
property of a distant kinsman of Fritz's, the
Count Stanislas von Tarlenheim.  Count Stanislas
himself was a student and a recluse.  He seldom
visited the house, and had, on Fritz's request,
very readily and courteously offered me its
hospitality for myself and my party.  This, then,
was our destination; chosen ostensibly for the
sake of the boar-hunting (for the wood was
carefully preserved, and boars, once common all
over Ruritania, were still to be found there in
considerable numbers), really because it brought
us within striking distance of the Duke of
Strelsau's more magnificent dwelling on the other
side of the town.  A large party of servants, with
horses and luggage, started early in the
morning;we followed at midday, travelling by train
for thirty miles, and then mounting our horses to
ride the remaining distance to the chateau.

We were a gallant party.  Besides Sapt and Fritz,
I was accompanied by ten gentlemen:  every one of
them had been carefully chosen, and no less
carefully sounded, by my two friends, and all were
devotedly attached to the person of the King.
They were told a part of the truth; the attempt on
my life in the summer-house was revealed to them,
as a spur to their loyalty and an incitement
against Michael.  They were also informed that a
friend of the King's was suspected to be forcibly
confined within the Castle of Zenda.  His rescue
was one of the objects of the expedition; but, it
was added, the King's main desire was to carry
into effect certain steps against his treacherous
brother, as to the precise nature of which they
could not at present be further enlightened.
Enough that the King commanded their services, and
would rely on their devotion when occasion arose
to call for it.  Young, well-bred, brave, and
loyal, they asked no more:  they were ready to
prove their dutiful obedience, and prayed for a
fight as the best and most exhilarating mode of
showing it.

Thus the scene was shifted from Strelsau to the
chateau of Tarlenheim and Castle of Zenda, which
frowned at us across the valley.  I tried to shift
my thoughts also, to forget my love, and to bend
all my energies to the task before me.  It was to
get the King out of the Castle alive.  Force was
useless:  in some trick lay the chance; and I had
already an inkling of what we must do.  But I was
terribly hampered by the publicity which attended
my movements.  Michael must know by now of my
expedition; and I knew Michael too well to suppose
that his eyes would be blinded by the feint of the
boar-hunt.  He would understand very well what the
real quarry was.  That, however, must be
risked--that and all it might mean; for Sapt, no
less than myself, recognized that the present
state of things had become unendurable.  And there
was one thing that I dared to calculate on--not,
as I now know, without warrant.  It was this--that
Black Michael would not believe that I meant well
by the King.  He could not appreciate--I will not
say an honest man, for the thoughts of my own
heart have been revealed-- but a man acting
honestly.  He saw my opportunity as I had seen it,
as Sapt had seen it; he knew the princess--nay
(and I declare that a sneaking sort of pity for
him invaded me), in his way he loved her; he would
think that Sapt and Fritz could be bribed, so the
bribe was large enough.  Thinking thus, would he
kill the King, my rival and my danger?  Ay,
verily, that he would, with as little compunction
as he would kill a rat.  But he would kill Rudolf
Rassendyll first, if he could; and nothing but the
certainty of being utterly damned by the release
of the King alive and his restoration to the
throne would drive him to throw away the trump
card which he held in reserve to baulk the
supposed game of the impudent impostor Rassendyll.
Musing on all this as I rode along, I took
courage.

Michael knew of my coming, sure enough.  I had not
been in the house an hour, when an imposing
Embassy arrived from him.  He did not quite reach
the impudence of sending my would-be assassins,
but he sent the other three of his famous Six--the
three Ruritanian gentlemen-- Lauengram, Krafstein,
and Rupert Hentzau.  A fine, strapping trio they
were, splendidly horsed and admirably equipped.
Young Rupert, who looked a dare-devil, and could
not have been more than twenty-two or
twenty-three, took the lead, and made us the
neatest speech, wherein my devoted subject and
loving brother Michael of Strelsau, prayed me to
pardon him for not paying his addresses in person,
and, further, for not putting his Castle at my
disposal; the reason for both of these apparent
derelictions being that he and several of his
servants lay sick of scarlet fever, and were in a
very sad, and also a very infectious state.  So
declared young Rupert with an insolent smile on
his curling upper lip and a toss of his thick
hair--he was a handsome villain, and the gossip
ran that many a lady had troubled her heart for
him already.

"If my brother has scarlet fever," said I, "he is
nearer my complexion than he is wont to be, my
lord.  I trust he does not suffer?"

"He is able to attend to his affairs, sire."

"I hope all beneath your roof are not sick.  What
of my good friends, De Gautet, Bersonin, and
Detchard?  I heard the last had suffered a hurt."

Lauengram and Krafstein looked glum and uneasy,
but young Rupert's smile grew broader.

"He hopes soon to find a medicine for it, sire,"
he answered.

And I burst out laughing, for I knew what medicine
Detchard longed for-- it is called Revenge.

"You will dine with us, gentlemen?" I asked.

Young Rupert was profuse in apologies.  They had
urgent duties at the Castle.

"Then," said I, with a wave of my hand, "to our
next meeting, gentlemen.  May it make us better
acquainted."

"We will pray your Majesty for an early
opportunity," quoth Rupert airily; and he strode
past Sapt with such jeering scorn on his face that
I saw the old fellow clench his fist and scowl
black as night.

For my part, if a man must needs be a knave, I
would have him a debonair knave, and I liked
Rupert Hentzau better than his long-faced,
close-eyed companions.  It makes your sin no
worse, as I conceive, to do it a la mode and
stylishly.

Now it was a curious thing that on this first
night, instead of eating the excellent dinner my
cooks had prepared for me, I must needs leave my
gentlemen to eat it alone, under Sapt's presiding
care, and ride myself with Fritz to the town of
Zenda and a certain little inn that I knew of.
There was little danger in the excursion; the
evenings were long and light, and the road this
side of Zenda well frequented.  So off we rode,
with a groom behind us.  I muffled myself up in a
big cloak.

"Fritz," said I, as we entered the town, "there's
an uncommonly pretty girl at this inn."

"How do you know?" he asked.

"Because I've been there," said I.

"Since--?" he began.

"No.  Before," said I.

"But they'll recognize you?"

"Well, of course they will.  Now, don't argue, my
good fellow, but listen to me.  We're two
gentlemen of the King's household, and one of us
has a toothache.  The other will order a private
room and dinner, and, further, a bottle of the
best wine for the sufferer.  And if he be as
clever a fellow as I take him for, the pretty girl
and no other will wait on us."

"What if she won't?" objected Fritz.

"My dear Fritz," said I, "if she won't for you,
she will for me."

We were at the inn.  Nothing of me but my eyes was
visible as I walked in.  The landlady received us;
two minutes later, my little friend (ever, I fear
me, on the look-out for such guests as might prove
amusing) made her appearance.  Dinner and the wine
were ordered.  I sat down in the private room.  A
minute later Fritz came in.

"She's coming," he said.

"If she were not, I should have to doubt the
Countess Helga's taste."

She came in.  I gave her time to set the wine
down--I didn't want it dropped.  Fritz poured out
a glass and gave it to me.

"Is the gentleman in great pain?" the girl asked,
sympathetically.

"The gentleman is no worse than when he saw you
last," said I, throwing away my cloak.

She started, with a little shriek.  Then she
cried:

"It was the King, then!  I told mother so the
moment I saw his picture.  Oh, sir, forgive me!"

"Faith, you gave me nothing that hurt much," said
I.

"But the things we said!"

"I forgive them for the thing you did."

"I must go and tell mother."

"Stop," said I, assuming a graver air.  "We are
not here for sport tonight.  Go and bring dinner,
and not a word of the King being here."

She came back in a few minutes, looking grave, yet
very curious.

"Well, how is Johann?" I asked, beginning my
dinner.

"Oh, that fellow, sir--my lord King, I mean!"

""Sir" will do, please.  How is he?"

"We hardly see him now, sir."

"And why not?"

"I told him he came too often, sir," said she,
tossing her head.

"So he sulks and stays away?"

"Yes, sir."

"But you could bring him back?" I suggested with a
smile.

"Perhaps I could," said she.

"I know your powers, you see," said I, and she
blushed with pleasure.

"It's not only that, sir, that keeps him away.
He's very busy at the Castle."

"But there's no shooting on now."

"No, sir; but he's in charge of the house."

"Johann turned housemaid?"

The little girl was brimming over with gossip.

"Well, there are no others," said she.  "There's
not a woman there-- not as a servant, I mean.
They do say--but perhaps it's false, sir."

"Let's have it for what it's worth," said I.

"Indeed, I'm ashamed to tell you, sir."

"Oh, see, I'm looking at the ceiling."

"They do say there is a lady there, sir; but,
except for her, there's not a woman in the place.
And Johann has to wait on the gentlemen."

"Poor Johann!  He must be overworked.  Yet I'm
sure he could find half an hour to come and see
you."

"It would depend on the time, sir, perhaps."

"Do you love him?" I asked.

"Not I, sir."

"And you wish to serve the King?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then tell him to meet you at the second milestone
out of Zenda tomorrow evening at ten o'clock.  Say
you'll be there and will walk home with him."

"Do you mean him harm, sir?"

"Not if he will do as I bid him.  But I think I've
told you enough, my pretty maid.  See that you do
as I bid you.  And, mind, no one is to know that
the King has been here."

I spoke a little sternly, for there is seldom harm
in infusing a little fear into a woman's liking
for you, and I softened the effect by giving her a
handsome present.  Then we dined, and, wrapping my
cloak about my face, with Fritz leading the way,
we went downstairs to our horses again.

It was but half-past eight, and hardly yet dark;
the streets were full for such a quiet little
place, and I could see that gossip was all agog.
With the King on one side and the duke on the
other, Zenda felt itself the centre of all
Ruritania.  We jogged gently through the town, but
set our horses to a sharper pace when we reached
the open country.

"You want to catch this fellow Johann?" asked
Fritz.

"Ay, and I fancy I've baited the hook right.  Our
little Delilah will bring our Samson.  It is not
enough, Fritz, to have no women in a house, though
brother Michael shows some wisdom there.  If you
want safety, you must have none within fifty
miles."

"None nearer than Strelsau, for instance," said
poor Fritz, with a lovelorn sigh.

We reached the avenue of the chateau, and were
soon at the house.  As the hoofs of our horses
sounded on the gravel, Sapt rushed out to meet us.

"Thank God, you're safe!" he cried.  "Have you
seen anything of them?"

"Of whom?" I asked, dismounting.

He drew us aside, that the grooms might not hear.

"Lad," he said to me, "you must not ride about
here, unless with half a dozen of us.  You know
among our men a tall young fellow, Bernenstein by
name?"

I knew him.  He was a fine strapping young man,
almost of my height, and of light complexion.

"He lies in his room upstairs, with a bullet
through his arm."

"The deuce he does!"

"After dinner he strolled out alone, and went a
mile or so into the wood; and as he walked, he
thought he saw three men among the trees; and one
levelled a gun at him.  He had no weapon, and he
started at a run back towards the house.  But one
of them fired, and he was hit, and had much ado to
reach here before he fainted.  By good luck, they
feared to pursue him nearer the house."

He paused and added:

"Lad, the bullet was meant for you."

"It is very likely," said I, "and it's first blood
to brother Michael."

"I wonder which three it was," said Fritz.

"Well, Sapt," I said, "I went out tonight for no
idle purpose, as you shall hear.  But there's one
thing in my mind."

"What's that?" he asked.

"Why this," I answered.  "That I shall ill requite
the very great honours Ruritania has done me if I
depart from it leaving one of those Six
alive--neither with the help of God, will I."

And Sapt shook my hand on that.





CHAPTER 13


An Improvement on Jacob's Ladder


In the morning of the day after that on which I
swore my oath against the Six, I gave certain
orders, and then rested in greater contentment
than I had known for some time.  I was at work;
and work, though it cannot cure love, is yet a
narcotic to it; so that Sapt, who grew feverish,
marvelled to see me sprawling in an armchair in
the sunshine, listening to one of my friends who
sang me amorous songs in a mellow voice and
induced in me a pleasing melancholy.  Thus was I
engaged when young Rupert Hentzau, who feared
neither man nor devil, and rode through the
demesne-- where every tree might hide a marksman,
for all he knew-- as though it had been the park
at Strelsau, cantered up to where I lay, bowing
with burlesque deference, and craving private
speech with me in order to deliver a message from
the Duke of Strelsau.  I made all withdraw, and
then he said, seating himself by me:

"The King is in love, it seems?"

"Not with life, my lord," said I, smiling.

"It is well," he rejoined.  "Come, we are alone,
Rassendyll--"

I rose to a sitting posture.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I was about to call one of my gentlemen to bring
your horse, my lord.  If you do not know how to
address the King, my brother must find another
messenger."

"Why keep up the farce?" he asked, negligently
dusting his boot with his glove.

"Because it is not finished yet; and meanwhile
I'll choose my own name."

"Oh, so be it!  Yet I spoke in love for you; for
indeed you are a man after my own heart."

"Saving my poor honesty," said I, "maybe I am.
But that I keep faith with men, and honour with
women, maybe I am, my lord."

He darted a glance at me--a glance of anger.

"Is your mother dead?" said I.

"Ay, she's dead."

"She may thank God," said I, and I heard him curse
me softly.  "Well, what's the message?" I
continued.

I had touched him on the raw, for all the world
knew he had broken his mother's heart and flaunted
his mistresses in her house; and his airy manner
was gone for the moment.

"The duke offers you more than I would," he
growled.  "A halter for you, sire, was my
suggestion.  But he offers you safe-conduct across
the frontier and a million crowns."

"I prefer your offer, my lord, if I am bound to
one."

"You refuse?"

"Of course."

"I told Michael you would;" and the villain, his
temper restored, gave me the sunniest of smiles.
"The fact is, between ourselves," he continued,
"Michael doesn't understand a gentleman."

I began to laugh.

"And you?" I asked.

"I do," he said.  "Well, well, the halter be it."

"I'm sorry you won't live to see it," I observed.

"Has his Majesty done me the honour to fasten a
particular quarrel on me?"

"I would you were a few years older, though."

"Oh, God gives years, but the devil gives
increase," laughed he.  "I can hold my own."

"How is your prisoner?" I asked.

"The K--?"

"Your prisoner."

"I forgot your wishes, sire.  Well, he is alive."

He rose to his feet; I imitated him.  Then, with a
smile, he said:

"And the pretty princess?  Faith, I'll wager the
next Elphberg will be red enough, for all that
Black Michael will be called his father."

I sprang a step towards him, clenching my hand.
He did not move an inch, and his lip curled in
insolent amusement.

"Go, while your skin's whole!" I muttered.  He had
repaid me with interest my hit about his mother.

Then came the most audacious thing I have known in
my life.  My friends were some thirty yards away.
Rupert called to a groom to bring him his horse,
and dismissed the fellow with a crown.  The horse
stood near.  I stood still, suspecting nothing.
Rupert made as though to mount; then he suddenly
turned to me:  his left hand resting in his belt,
his right outstretched:  "Shake hands," he said.

I bowed, and did as he had foreseen--I put my
hands behind me.  Quicker than thought, his left
hand darted out at me, and a small dagger flashed
in the air; he struck me in the left shoulder
--had I not swerved, it had been my heart.  With a
cry, I staggered back.  Without touching the
stirrup, he leapt upon his horse and was off like
an arrow, pursued by cries and revolver shots--the
last as useless as the first--and I sank into my
chair, bleeding profusely, as I watched the
devil's brat disappear down the long avenue.  My
friends surrounded me, and then I fainted.

I suppose that I was put to bed, and there lay,
unconscious, or half conscious, for many hours;
for it was night when I awoke to my full mind, and
found Fritz beside me.  I was weak and weary, but
he bade me be of good cheer, saying that my wound
would soon heal, and that meanwhile all had gone
well, for Johann, the keeper, had fallen into the
snare we had laid for him, and was even now in the
house.

"And the queer thing is," pursued Fritz, "that I
fancy he's not altogether sorry to find himself
here.  He seems to think that when Black Michael
has brought off his coup, witnesses of how it was
effected--saving, of course, the Six
themselves--will not be at a premium."

This idea argued a shrewdness in our captive which
led me to build hopes on his assistance.  I
ordered him to be brought in at once.  Sapt
conducted him, and set him in a chair by my
bedside.  He was sullen, and afraid; but, to say
truth, after young Rupert's exploit, we also had
our fears, and, if he got as far as possible from
Sapt's formidable six-shooter, Sapt kept him as
far as he could from me.  Moreover, when he came
in his hands were bound, but that I would not
suffer.

I need not stay to recount the safeguards and
rewards we promised the fellow--all of which were
honourably observed and paid, so that he lives now
in prosperity (though where I may not mention);
and we were the more free inasmuch as we soon
learnt that he was rather a weak man than a
wicked, and had acted throughout this matter more
from fear of the duke and of his own brother Max
than for any love of what was done.  But he had
persuaded all of his loyalty; and though not in
their secret counsels, was yet, by his knowledge
of their dispositions within the Castle, able to
lay bare before us the very heart of their
devices.  And here, in brief, is his story:

Below the level of the ground in the Castle,
approached by a flight of stone steps which
abutted on the end of the drawbridge, were
situated two small rooms, cut out of the rock
itself.  The outer of the two had no windows, but
was always lighted with candles; the inner had one
square window, which gave upon the moat.  In the
outer room there lay always, day and night, three
of the Six; and the instructions of Duke Michael
were, that on any attack being made on the outer
room, the three were to defend the door of it so
long as they could without risk to themselves.
But, so soon as the door should be in danger of
being forced, then Rupert Hentzau or Detchard (for
one of these two was always there) should leave
the others to hold it as long as they could, and
himself pass into the inner room, and, without
more ado, kill the King who lay there,
well-treated indeed, but without weapons, and with
his arms confined in fine steel chains, which did
not allow him to move his elbow more than three
inches from his side.  Thus, before the outer door
were stormed, the King would be dead.  And his
body?  For his body would be evidence as damning
as himself.

"Nay, sir," said Johann, "his Highness has thought
of that.  While the two hold the outer room, the
one who has killed the King unlocks the bars in
the square window (they turn on a hinge).  The
window now gives no light, for its mouth is choked
by a great pipe of earthenware; and this pipe,
which is large enough to let pass through it the
body of a man, passes into the moat, coming to an
end immediately above the surface of the water, so
that there is no perceptible interval between
water and pipe.  The King being dead, his murderer
swiftly ties a weight to the body, and, dragging
it to the window, raises it by a pulley (for, lest
the weight should prove too great, Detchard has
provided one) till it is level with the mouth of
the pipe.  He inserts the feet in the pipe, and
pushes the body down.  Silently, without splash or
sound, it falls into the water and thence to the
bottom of the moat, which is twenty feet deep
thereabouts.  This done, the murderer cries
loudly, "All's well!" and himself slides down the
pipe; and the others, if they can and the attack
is not too hot, run to the inner room and, seeking
a moment's delay, bar the door, and in their turn
slide down.  And though the King rises not from
the bottom, they rise and swim round to the other
side, where the orders are for men to wait them
with ropes, to haul them out, and horses.  And
here, if things go ill, the duke will join them
and seek safety by riding; but if all goes well,
they will return to the Castle, and have their
enemies in a trap.  That, sir, is the plan of his
Highness for the disposal of the King in case of
need.  But it is not to be used till the last;
for, as we all know, he is not minded to kill the
King unless he can, before or soon after, kill you
also, sir.  Now, sir, I have spoken the truth, as
God is my witness, and I pray you to shield me
from the vengeance of Duke Michael; for if, after
he knows what I have done, I fall into his hands,
I shall pray for one thing out of all the world--a
speedy death, and that I shall not obtain from
him!"

The fellow's story was rudely told, but our
questions supplemented his narrative.  What he had
told us applied to an armed attack; but if
suspicions were aroused, and there came
overwhelming force--such, for instance, as I, the
King, could bring--the idea of resistance would be
abandoned; the King would be quietly murdered and
slid down the pipe.  And--here comes an ingenious
touch--one of the Six would take his place in the
cell, and, on the entrance of the searchers,
loudly demand release and redress; and Michael,
being summoned, would confess to hasty action, but
he would say the man had angered him by seeking
the favour of a lady in the Castle (this was
Antoinette de Mauban) and he had confined him
there, as he conceived he, as Lord of Zenda, had
right to do.  But he was now, on receiving his
apology, content to let him go, and so end the
gossip which, to his Highness's annoyance, had
arisen concerning a prisoner in Zenda, and had
given his visitors the trouble of this enquiry.
The visitors, baffled, would retire, and Michael
could, at his leisure, dispose of the body of the
King.

Sapt, Fritz, and I in my bed, looked round on one
another in horror and bewilderment at the cruelty
and cunning of the plan.  Whether I went in peace
or in war, openly at the head of a corps, or
secretly by a stealthy assault, the King would be
dead before I could come near him.  If Michael
were stronger and overcame my party, there would
be an end.  But if I were stronger, I should have
no way to punish him, no means of proving any
guilt in him without proving my own guilt also.
On the other hand, I should be left as King (ah!
for a moment my pulse quickened) and it would be
for the future to witness the final struggle
between him and me.  He seemed to have made
triumph possible and ruin impossible.  At the
worst, he would stand as well as he had stood
before I crossed his path-- with but one man
between him and the throne, and that man an
impostor; at best, there would be none left to
stand against him.  I had begun to think that
Black Michael was over fond of leaving the
fighting to his friends; but now I acknowledged
that the brains, if not the arms, of the
conspiracy were his.

"Does the King know this?" I asked.

"I and my brother," answered Johann, "put up the
pipe, under the orders of my Lord of Hentzau.  He
was on guard that day, and the King asked my lord
what it meant.  "Faith," he answered, with his
airy laugh, "it's a new improvement on the ladder
of Jacob, whereby, as you have read, sire, men
pass from the earth to heaven.  We thought it not
meet that your Majesty should go, in case, sire,
you must go, by the common route.  So we have made
you a pretty private passage where the vulgar
cannot stare at you or incommode your passage.
That, sire, is the meaning of that pipe." And he
laughed and bowed, and prayed the King's leave to
replenish the King's glass--for the King was at
supper.  And the King, though he is a brave man,
as are all of his House, grew red and then white
as he looked on the pipe and at the merry devil
who mocked him.  Ah, sir" (and the fellow
shuddered), "it is not easy to sleep quiet in the
Castle of Zenda, for all of them would as soon cut
a man's throat as play a game at cards; and my
Lord Rupert would choose it sooner for a pastime
than any other--ay, sooner than he would ruin a
woman, though that he loves also."

The man ceased, and I bade Fritz take him away and
have him carefully guarded; and, turning to him, I
added:

"If anyone asks you if there is a prisoner in
Zenda, you may answer "Yes." But if any asks who
the prisoner is, do not answer.  For all my
promises will not save you if any man here learns
from you the truth as to the prisoner of Zenda.
I'll kill you like a dog if the thing be so much
as breathed within the house!"

Then, when he was gone, I looked at Sapt.

"It's a hard nut!" said I.

"So hard," said he, shaking his grizzled head,
"that as I think, this time next year is like to
find you still King of Ruritania!" and he broke
out into curses on Michael's cunning.

I lay back on my pillows.

"There seems to me," I observed, "to be two ways
by which the King can come out of Zenda alive.
One is by treachery in the duke's followers."

"You can leave that out," said Sapt.

"I hope not," I rejoined, "because the other I was
about to mention is-- by a miracle from heaven!"




CHAPTER 14


A Night Outside the Castle


It would have surprised the good people of
Ruritania to know of the foregoing talk; for,
according to the official reports, I had suffered
a grievous and dangerous hurt from an accidental
spear-thrust, received in the course of my sport.
I caused the bulletins to be of a very serious
character, and created great public excitement,
whereby three things occurred:  first, I gravely
offended the medical faculty of Strelsau by
refusing to summon to my bedside any of them, save
a young man, a friend of Fritz's, whom we could
trust; secondly, I received word from Marshal
Strakencz that my orders seemed to have no more
weight than his, and that the Princess Flavia was
leaving for Tarlenheim under his unwilling escort
(news whereat I strove not to be glad and proud);
and thirdly, my brother, the Duke of Strelsau,
although too well informed to believe the account
of the origin of my sickness, was yet persuaded by
the reports and by my seeming inactivity that I
was in truth incapable of action, and that my life
was in some danger.  This I learnt from the man
Johann, whom I was compelled to trust and send
back to Zenda, where, by the way, Rupert Hentzau
had him soundly flogged for daring to smirch the
morals of Zenda by staying out all night in the
pursuits of love.  This, from Rupert, Johann
deeply resented, and the duke's approval of it did
more to bind the keeper to my side than all my
promises.

On Flavia's arrival I cannot dwell.  Her joy at
finding me up and well, instead of on my back and
fighting with death, makes a picture that even now
dances before my eyes till they grow too dim to
see it; and her reproaches that I had not trusted
even her must excuse the means I took to quiet
them.  In truth, to have her with me once more was
like a taste of heaven to a damned soul, the
sweeter for the inevitable doom that was to
follow; and I rejoiced in being able to waste two
whole days with her.  And when I had wasted two
days, the Duke of Strelsau arranged a
hunting-party.

The stroke was near now.  For Sapt and I, after
anxious consultations, had resolved that we must
risk a blow, our resolution being clinched by
Johann's news that the King grew peaked, pale, and
ill, and that his health was breaking down under
his rigorous confinement.  Now a man--be he king
or no king--may as well die swiftly and as becomes
a gentleman, from bullet or thrust, as rot his
life out in a cellar!  That thought made prompt
action advisable in the interests of the King;
from my own point of view, it grew more and more
necessary.  For Strakencz urged on me the need of
a speedy marriage, and my own inclinations
seconded him with such terrible insistence that I
feared for my resolution.  I do not believe that I
should have done the deed I dreamt of; but I might
have come to flight, and my flight would have
ruined the cause.  And--yes, I am no saint (ask my
little sister-in-law), and worse still might have
happened.

It is perhaps as strange a thing as has ever been
in the history of a country that the King's
brother and the King's personator, in a time of
profound outward peace, near a placid, undisturbed
country town, under semblance of amity, should
wage a desperate war for the person and life of
the King.  Yet such was the struggle that began
now between Zenda and Tarlenheim.  When I look
back on the time, I seem to myself to have been
half mad.  Sapt has told me that I suffered no
interference and listened to no remonstrances; and
if ever a King of Ruritania ruled like a despot, I
was, in those days, the man.  Look where I would,
I saw nothing that made life sweet to me, and I
took my life in my hand and carried it carelessly
as a man dangles an old glove.  At first they
strove to guard me, to keep me safe, to persuade
me not to expose myself; but when they saw how I
was set, there grew up among them--whether they
knew the truth or not-- a feeling that Fate ruled
the issue, and that I must be left to play my game
with Michael my own way.

Late next night I rose from table, where Flavia
had sat by me, and conducted her to the door of
her apartments.  There I kissed her hand, and bade
her sleep sound and wake to happy days.  Then I
changed my clothes and went out.  Sapt and Fritz
were waiting for me with six men and the horses.
Over his saddle Sapt carried a long coil of rope,
and both were heavily armed.  I had with me a
short stout cudgel and a long knife.  Making a
circuit, we avoided the town, and in an hour found
ourselves slowly mounting the hill that led to the
Castle of Zenda.  The night was dark and very
stormy; gusts of wind and spits of rain caught us
as we breasted the incline, and the great trees
moaned and sighed.  When we came to a thick clump,
about a quarter of a mile from the Castle, we bade
our six friends hide there with the horses.  Sapt
had a whistle, and they could rejoin us in a few
moments if danger came:  but, up to now, we had
met no one.  I hoped that Michael was still off
his guard, believing me to be safe in bed.
However that might be, we gained the top of the
hill without accident, and found ourselves on the
edge of the moat where it sweeps under the road,
separating the Old Castle from it.  A tree stood
on the edge of the bank, and Sapt,silently and
diligently, set to make fast the rope.  I stripped
off my boots, took a pull at a flask of brandy,
loosened the knife in its sheath, and took the
cudgel between my teeth.  Then I shook hands with
my friends, not heeding a last look of entreaty
from Fritz, and laid hold of the rope.  I was
going to have a look at "Jacob's Ladder."

Gently I lowered myself into the water.  Though
the night was wild, the day had been warm and
bright, and the water was not cold.  I struck out,
and began to swim round the great walls which
frowned above me.  I could see only three yards
ahead; I had then good hopes of not being seen, as
I crept along close under the damp, moss-grown
masonry.  There were lights from the new part of
the Castle on the other side, and now and again I
heard laughter and merry shouts.  I fancied I
recognized young Rupert Hentzau's ringing tones,
and pictured him flushed with wine.  Recalling my
thoughts to the business in hand, I rested a
moment.  If Johann's description were right, I
must be near the window now.  Very slowly I moved;
and out of the darkness ahead loomed a shape.  It
was the pipe, curving from the window to the
water:  about four feet of its surface were
displayed; it was as big round as two men.  I was
about to approach it, when I saw something else,
and my heart stood still.  The nose of a boat
protruded beyond the pipe on the other side; and
listening intently, I heard a slight shuffle--as
of a man shifting his position.  Who was the man
who guarded Michael's invention?  Was he awake or
was he asleep?  I felt if my knife were ready, and
trod water; as I did so, I found bottom under my
feet.  The foundations of the Castle extended some
fifteen inches, making a ledge; and I stood on it,
out of water from my armpits upwards.  Then I
crouched and peered through the darkness under the
pipe, where, curving, it left a space.

There was a man in the boat.  A rifle lay by
him--I saw the gleam of the barrel.  Here was the
sentinel!  He sat very still.  I listened; he
breathed heavily, regularly, monotonously.  By
heaven, he slept!  Kneeling on the shelf, I drew
forward under the pipe till my face was within two
feet of his.  He was a big man, I saw.  It was Max
Holf, the brother of Johann.  My hand stole to my
belt, and I drew out my knife.  Of all the deeds
of my life, I love the least to think of this, and
whether it were the act of a man or a traitor I
will not ask.  I said to myself:  "It is war--and
the King's life is the stake." And I raised myself
from beneath the pipe and stood up by the boat,
which lay moored by the ledge.  Holding my breath,
I marked the spot and raised my arm.  The great
fellow stirred.  He opened his eyes--wide, wider.
He grasped in terror at my face and clutched at
his rifle.  I struck home.  And I heard the chorus
of a love-song from the opposite bank.

Leaving him where he lay, a huddled mass, I turned
to "Jacob's Ladder." My time was short.  This
fellow's turn of watching might be over directly,
and relief would come.  Leaning over the pipe, I
examined it, from the end near the water to the
topmost extremity where it passed, or seemed to
pass, through the masonry of the wall.  There was
no break in it, no chink.  Dropping on my knees, I
tested the under side.  And my breath went quick
and fast, for on this lower side, where the pipe
should have clung close to the masonry, there was
a gleam of light!  That light must come from the
cell of the King!  I set my shoulder against the
pipe and exerted my strength.  The chink widened a
very, very little, and hastily I desisted; I had
done enough to show that the pipe was not fixed in
the masonry at the lower side.

Then I heard a voice--a harsh, grating voice:

"Well, sire, if you have had enough of my society,
I will leave you to repose; but I must fasten the
little ornaments first."

It was Detchard!  I caught the English accent in a
moment.

"Have you anything to ask, sire, before we part?"

The King's voice followed.  It was his, though it
was faint and hollow--different from the merry
tones I had heard in the glades of the forest.

"Pray my brother," said the King, "to kill me.  I
am dying by inches here."

"The duke does not desire your death, sire--yet,"
sneered Detchard; "when he does behold your path
to heaven!"

The King answered:

"So be it!  And now, if your orders allow it, pray
leave me."

"May you dream of paradise!" said the ruffian.

The light disappeared.  I heard the bolts of the
door run home.  And then I heard the sobs of the
King.  He was alone, as he thought.  Who dares
mock at him?

I did not venture to speak to him.  The risk of
some exclamation escaping him in surprise was too
great.  I dared do nothing that night; and my task
now was to get myself away in safety, and to carry
off the carcass of the dead man.  To leave him
there would tell too much.  Casting loose the
boat, I got in.  The wind was blowing a gale now,
and there was little danger of oars being heard.
I rowed swiftly round to where my friends waited.
I had just reached the spot, when a loud whistle
sounded over the moat behind me.

"Hullo, Max!" I heard shouted.

I hailed Sapt in a low tone.  The rope came down.
I tied it round the corpse, and then went up it
myself.

"Whistle you too," I whispered, "for our men, and
haul in the line.  No talk now."

They hauled up the body.  Just as it reached the
road, three men on horseback swept round from the
front of the Castle.  We saw them; but, being on
foot ourselves, we escaped their notice.  But we
heard our men coming up with a shout.

"The devil, but it's dark!" cried a ringing voice.

It was young Rupert.  A moment later, shots rang
out.  Our people had met them.  I started forward
at a run, Sapt and Fritz following me.

"Thrust, thrust!" cried Rupert again, and a loud
groan following told that he himself was not
behind-hand.

"I'm done, Rupert!" cried a voice.  "They're three
to one.  Save yourself!"

I ran on, holding my cudgel in my hand.  Suddenly
a horse came towards me.  A man was on it, leaning
over his shoulder.

"Are you cooked too, Krafstein?" he cried.

There was no answer.

I sprang to the horse's head.  It was Rupert
Hentzau.

"At last!" I cried.

For we seemed to have him.  He had only his sword
in his hand.  My men were hot upon him; Sapt and
Fritz were running up.  I had outstripped them;
but if they got close enough to fire, he must die
or surrender.

"At last!" I cried.

"It's the play-actor!" cried he, slashing at my
cudgel.  He cut it clean in two; and, judging
discretion better than death, I ducked my head and
(I blush to tell it) scampered for my life.  The
devil was in Rupert Hentzau; for he put spurs to
his horse, and I, turning to look, saw him ride,
full gallop, to the edge of the moat and leap in,
while the shots of our party fell thick round him
like hail.  With one gleam of moonlight we should
have riddled him with balls; but, in the darkness,
he won to the corner of the Castle, and vanished
from our sight.

"The deuce take him!" grinned Sapt.

"It's a pity," said I, "that he's a villain.  Whom
have we got?"

We had Lauengram and Krafstein:  they lay dead;
and, concealment being no longer possible, we
flung them, with Max, into the moat; and, drawing
together in a compact body, rode off down the
hill.  And, in our midst, went the bodies of three
gallant gentlemen.  Thus we travelled home, heavy
at heart for the death of our friends, sore uneasy
concerning the King, and cut to the quick that
young Rupert had played yet another winning hand
with us.

For my own part, I was vexed and angry that I had
killed no man in open fight, but only stabbed a
knave in his sleep.  And I did not love to hear
Rupert call me a play-actor.




CHAPTER 15


I Talk with a Tempter


Ruritania is not England, or the quarrel between
Duke Michael and myself could not have gone on,
with the extraordinary incidents which marked it,
without more public notice being directed to it.
Duels were frequent among all the upper classes,
and private quarrels between great men kept the
old habit of spreading to their friends and
dependents.  Nevertheless, after the affray which
I have just related, such reports began to
circulate that I felt it necessary to be on my
guard.  The death of the gentlemen involved could
not be hidden from their relatives.  I issued a
stern order, declaring that duelling had attained
unprecedented licence (the Chancellor drew up the
document for me, and very well he did it), and
forbidding it save in the gravest cases.  I sent a
public and stately apology to Michael, and he
returned a deferential and courteous reply to me;
for our one point of union was--and it underlay
all our differences and induced an unwilling
harmony between our actions--that we could neither
of us afford to throw our cards on the table.  He,
as well as I, was a "play-actor', and, hating one
another, we combined to dupe public opinion.
Unfortunately, however, the necessity for
concealment involved the necessity of delay:  the
King might die in his prison, or even be spirited
off somewhere else; it could not be helped.  For a
little while I was compelled to observe a truce,
and my only consolation was that Flavia most
warmly approved of my edict against duelling, and,
when I expressed delight at having won her favour,
prayed me, if her favour were any motive to me, to
prohibit the practice altogether.

"Wait till we are married," said I, smiling.

Not the least peculiar result of the truce and of
the secrecy which dictated it was that the town of
Zenda became in the day-time --I would not have
trusted far to its protection by night-- a sort of
neutral zone, where both parties could safely go;
and I, riding down one day with Flavia and Sapt,
had an encounter with an acquaintance, which
presented a ludicrous side, but was at the same
time embarrassing.  As I rode along, I met a
dignified looking person driving in a two-horsed
carriage.  He stopped his horses, got out, and
approached me, bowing low.  I recognized the Head
of the Strelsau Police.

"Your Majesty's ordinance as to duelling is
receiving our best attention," he assured me.

If the best attention involved his presence in
Zenda, I determined at once to dispense with it.

"Is that what brings you to Zenda, Prefect?" I
asked.

"Why no, sire; I am here because I desired to
oblige the British Ambassador."

"What's the British Ambassador doing dans cette
galere?" said I, carelessly.

"A young countryman of his, sire--a man of some
position--is missing.  His friends have not heard
from him for two months, and there is reason to
believe that he was last seen in Zenda."

Flavia was paying little attention.  I dared not
look at Sapt.

"What reason?"

"A friend of his in Paris--a certain M.
Featherly--has given us information which makes it
possible that he came here, and the officials of
the railway recollect his name on some luggage."

"What was his name?"

"Rassendyll, sire," he answered; and I saw that
the name meant nothing to him.  But, glancing at
Flavia, he lowered his voice, as he went on:  "It
is thought that he may have followed a lady here.
Has your Majesty heard of a certain Madame de
Mauban?"

"Why, yes," said I, my eye involuntarily
travelling towards the Castle.

"She arrived in Ruritania about the same time as
this Rassendyll."

I caught the Prefect's glance; he was regarding me
with enquiry writ large on his face.

"Sapt," said I, "I must speak a word to the
Prefect.  Will you ride on a few paces with the
princess?" And I added to the Prefect:  "Come,
sir, what do you mean?"

He drew close to me, and I bent in the saddle.

"If he were in love with the lady?" he whispered.
"Nothing has been heard of him for two months;"
and this time it was the eye of the Prefect which
travelled towards the Castle.

"Yes, the lady is there," I said quietly.  "But I
don't suppose Mr.  Rassendyll--is that the
name?--is."

"The duke," he whispered, "does not like rivals,
sire."

"You're right there," said I, with all sincerity.
"But surely you hint at a very grave charge?"

He spread his hands out in apology.  I whispered
in his ear:

"This is a grave matter.  Go back to Strelsau--"

"But, sire, if I have a clue here?"

"Go back to Strelsau," I repeated.  "Tell the
Ambassador that you have a clue, but that you must
be left alone for a week or two.  Meanwhile, I'll
charge myself with looking into the matter."

"The Ambassador is very pressing, sir."

"You must quiet him.  Come, sir; you see that if
your suspicions are correct, it is an affair in
which we must move with caution.  We can have no
scandal.  Mind you return tonight."

He promised to obey me, and I rode on to rejoin my
companions, a little easier in my mind.  Enquiries
after me must be stopped at all hazards for a week
or two; and this clever official had come
surprisingly near the truth.  His impression might
be useful some day, but if he acted on it now it
might mean the worse to the King.  Heartily did I
curse George Featherly for not holding his tongue.

"Well," asked Flavia, "have you finished your
business?"

"Most satisfactorily," said I.  "Come, shall we
turn round?  We are almost trenching on my
brother's territory."

We were, in fact, at the extreme end of the town,
just where the hills begin to mount towards the
Castle.  We cast our eyes up, admiring the massive
beauty of the old walls, and we saw a cortege
winding slowly down the hill.  On it came.

"Let us go back," said Sapt.

"I should like to stay," said Flavia; and I reined
my horse beside hers.

We could distinguish the approaching party now.
There came first two mounted servants in black
uniforms, relieved only by a silver badge.  These
were followed by a car drawn by four horses:  on
it, under a heavy pall, lay a coffin; behind it
rode a man in plain black clothes, carrying his
hat in his hand.  Sapt uncovered, and we stood
waiting, Flavia keeping by me and laying her hand
on my arm.

"It is one of the gentlemen killed in the quarrel,
I expect," she said.

I beckoned to a groom.

"Ride and ask whom they escort," I ordered.

He rode up to the servants, and I saw him pass on
to the gentleman who rode behind.

"It's Rupert of Hentzau," whispered Sapt.

Rupert it was, and directly afterwards, waving to
the procession to stand still, Rupert trotted up
to me.  He was in a frock-coat, tightly buttoned,
and trousers.  He wore an aspect of sadness, and
he bowed with profound respect.  Yet suddenly he
smiled, and I smiled too, for old Sapt's hand lay
in his left breast-pocket, and Rupert and I both
guessed what lay in the hand inside the pocket.

"Your Majesty asks whom we escort," said Rupert.
"It is my dear friend, Albert of Lauengram."

"Sir," said I, "no one regrets the unfortunate
affair more than I.  My ordinance, which I mean to
have obeyed, is witness to it."

"Poor fellow!, said Flavia softly, and I saw
Rupert's eyes flash at her.  Whereat I grew red;
for, if I had my way, Rupert Hentzau should not
have defiled her by so much as a glance.  Yet he
did it and dared to let admiration be seen in his
look.

"Your Majesty's words are gracious," he said.  "I
grieve for my friend.  Yet, sire, others must soon
lie as he lies now."

"It is a thing we all do well to remember, my
lord," I rejoined.

"Even kings, sire," said Rupert, in a moralizing
tone; and old Sapt swore softly by my side.

"It is true," said I.  "How fares my brother, my
lord?"

"He is better, sire."

"I am rejoiced."

"He hopes soon to leave for Strelsau, when his
health is secured."

"He is only convalescent then?"

"There remain one or two small troubles," answered
the insolent fellow, in the mildest tone in the
world.

"Express my earnest hope," said Flavia, "that they
may soon cease to trouble him."

"Your Royal Highness's wish is, humbly, my own,"
said Rupert, with a bold glance that brought a
blush to Flavia's cheek.

I bowed; and Rupert, bowing lower, backed his
horse and signed to his party to proceed.  With a
sudden impulse, I rode after him.  He turned
swiftly, fearing that, even in the presence of the
dead and before a lady's eyes, I meant him
mischief.

"You fought as a brave man the other night," I
said.  "Come, you are young, sir.  If you will
deliver your prisoner alive to me, you shall come
to no hurt."

He looked at me with a mocking smile; but suddenly
he rode nearer to me.

"I'm unarmed," he said; "and our old Sapt there
could pick me off in a minute."

"I'm not afraid," said I.

"No, curse you!" he answered.  "Look here, I made
you a proposal from the duke once."

"I'll hear nothing from Black Michael," said I.

"Then hear one from me." He lowered his voice to a
whisper.  "Attack the Castle boldly.  Let Sapt and
Tarlenheim lead."

"Go on," said I.

"Arrange the time with me."

"I have such confidence in you, my lord!"

"Tut!  I'm talking business now.  Sapt there and
Fritz will fall; Black Michael will fall--"

"What!"

"--Black Michael will fall, like the dog he is;
the prisoner, as you call him, will go by "Jacob's
Ladder"--ah, you know that!-- to hell!  Two men
will be left--I, Rupert Hentzau, and you, the King
of Ruritania."

He paused, and then, in a voice that quivered with
eagerness, added:

"Isn't that a hand to play?--a throne and your
princess!  And for me, say a competence and your
Majesty's gratitude."

"Surely," I exclaimed, "while you're above ground,
hell wants its master!"

"Well, think it over," he said.  "And, look you,
it would take more than a scruple or two to keep
me from yonder girl," and his evil eye flashed
again at her I loved.

"Get out of my reach!" said I; and yet in a moment
I began to laugh for the very audacity of it.

"Would you turn against your master?" I asked.

He swore at Michael for being what the offspring
of a legal, though morganatic, union should not be
called, and said to me in an almost confidential
and apparently friendly tone:

"He gets in my way, you know.  He's a jealous
brute!  Faith, I nearly stuck a knife into him
last night; he came most cursedly mal a propos!"

My temper was well under control now; I was
learning something.

"A lady?" I asked negligently.

"Ay, and a beauty," he nodded.  "But you've seen
her."

"Ah!  was it at a tea-party, when some of your
friends got on the wrong side of the table?"

"What can you expect of fools like Detchard and De
Gautet?  I wish I'd been there."

"And the duke interferes?"

"Well," said Rupert meditatively, "that's hardly a
fair way of putting it, perhaps.  I want to
interfere."

"And she prefers the duke?"

"Ay, the silly creature!  Ah, well, you think
about my plan," and, with a bow, he pricked his
horse and trotted after the body of his friend.

I went back to Flavia and Sapt, pondering on the
strangeness of the man.  Wicked men I have known
in plenty, but Rupert Hentzau remains unique in my
experience.  And if there be another anywhere, let
him be caught and hanged out of hand.  So say I!

"He's very handsome, isn't he?" said Flavia.

Well, of course, she didn't know him as I did; yet
I was put out, for I thought his bold glances
would have made her angry.  But my dear Flavia was
a woman, and so--she was not put out.  On the
contrary, she thought young Rupert very
handsome--as, beyond question, the ruffian was.

"And how sad he looked at his friend's death!"
said she.

"He'll have better reason to be sad at his own,"
observed Sapt, with a grim smile.

As for me, I grew sulky; unreasonable it was
perhaps, for what better business had I to look at
her with love than had even Rupert's lustful eyes?
And sulky I remained till, as evening fell and we
rode up to Tarlenheim, Sapt having fallen behind
in case anyone should be following us, Flavia,
riding close beside me, said softly, with a little
half-ashamed laugh:

"Unless you smile, Rudolf, I cry.  Why are you
angry?"

"It was something that fellow said to me," said I,
but I was smiling as we reached the door and
dismounted.

There a servant handed me a note:  it was
unaddressed.

"Is it for me?" I asked.

"Yes, sire; a boy brought it."

I tore it open:


Johann carries this for me.  I warned you once.
In the name of God, and if you are a man, rescue
me from this den of murderers!--A.  de M.


I handed it to Sapt; but all that the tough old
soul said in reply to this piteous appeal was:

"Whose fault brought her there?"

Nevertheless, not being faultless myself, I took
leave to pity Antoinette de Mauban.




CHAPTER 16


A Desperate Plan


As I had ridden publicly in Zenda, and had talked
there with Rupert Hentzau, of course all pretence
of illness was at an end.  I marked the effect on
the garrison of Zenda:  they ceased to be seen
abroad; and any of my men who went near the Castle
reported that the utmost vigilance prevailed
there.  Touched as I was by Madame de Mauban's
appeal, I seemed as powerless to befriend her as I
had proved to help the King.  Michael bade me
defiance; and although he too had been seen
outside the walls, with more disregard for
appearances than he had hitherto shown, he did not
take the trouble to send any excuse for his
failure to wait on the King.  Time ran on in
inactivity, when every moment was pressing; for
not only was I faced with the new danger which the
stir about my disappearance brought on me, but
great murmurs had arisen in Strelsau at my
continued absence from the city.  They had been
greater, but for the knowledge that Flavia was
with me; and for this reason I suffered her to
stay, though I hated to have her where danger was,
and though every day of our present sweet
intercourse strained my endurance almost to
breaking.  As a final blow, nothing would content
my advisers, Strakencz and the Chancellor (who
came out from Strelsau to make an urgent
representation to me), save that I should appoint
a day for the public solemnization of my
betrothal, a ceremony which in Ruritania is well
nigh as binding and great a thing as the marriage
itself.  And this--with Flavia sitting by me-- I
was forced to do, setting a date a fortnight
ahead, and appointing the Cathedral in Strelsau as
the place.  And this formal act being published
far and wide, caused great joy throughout the
kingdom, and was the talk of all tongues; so that
I reckoned there were but two men who chafed at
it--I mean Black Michael and myself; and but one
who did not know of it--that one the man whose
name I bore, the King of Ruritania.

In truth, I heard something of the way the news
was received in the Castle; for after an interval
of three days, the man Johann, greedy for more
money, though fearful for his life, again found
means to visit us.  He had been waiting on the
duke when the tidings came.  Black Michael's face
had grown blacker still, and he had sworn
savagely; nor was he better pleased when young
Rupert took oath that I meant to do as I said, and
turning to Madame de Mauban, wished her joy on a
rival gone.  Michael's hand stole towards his
sword (said Johann), but not a bit did Rupert
care; for he rallied the duke on having made a
better King than had reigned for years past in
Ruritania.  "And," said he, with a meaning bow to
his exasperated master, "the devil sends the
princess a finer man than heaven had marked out
for her, by my soul, it does!" Then Michael
harshly bade him hold his tongue, and leave them;
but Rupert must needs first kiss madame's hand,
which he did as though he loved her, while Michael
glared at him.

This was the lighter side of the fellow's news;
but more serious came behind, and it was plain
that if time pressed at Tarlenheim, it pressed
none the less fiercely at Zenda.  For the King was
very sick:  Johann had seen him, and he was wasted
and hardly able to move.  "There could be no
thought of taking another for him now." So alarmed
were they, that they had sent for a physician from
Strelsau; and the physician having been introduced
into the King's cell, had come forth pale and
trembling, and urgently prayed the duke to let him
go back and meddle no more in the affair; but the
duke would not, and held him there a prisoner,
telling him his life was safe if the King lived
while the duke desired and died when the duke
desired--not otherwise.  And, persuaded by the
physician, they had allowed Madame de Mauban to
visit the King and give him such attendance as his
state needed, and as only a woman can give.  Yet
his life hung in the balance; and I was still
strong and whole and free.  Wherefore great gloom
reigned at Zenda; and save when they quarrelled,
to which they were very prone, they hardly spoke.
But the deeper the depression of the rest, young
Rupert went about Satan's work with a smile in his
eye and a song on his lip; and laughed "fit to
burst" (said Johann) because the duke always set
Detchard to guard the King when Madame de Mauban
was in the cell--which precaution was, indeed, not
unwise in my careful brother.  Thus Johann told
his tale and seized his crowns.  Yet he besought
us to allow him to stay with us in Tarlenheim, and
not venture his head again in the lion's den; but
we had need of him there, and, although I refused
to constrain him, I prevailed on him by increased
rewards to go back and carry tidings to Madame de
Mauban that I was working for her, and that, if
she could, she should speak one word of comfort to
the King.  For while suspense is bad for the sick,
yet despair is worse still, and it might be that
the King lay dying of mere hopelessness, for I
could learn of no definite disease that afflicted
him.

"And how do they guard the King now?" I asked,
remembering that two of the Six were dead, and Max
Holf also.

"Detchard and Bersonin watch by night, Rupert
Hentzau and De Gautet by day, sir," he answered.

"Only two at a time?"

"Ay, sir; but the others rest in a room just
above, and are within sound of a cry or a
whistle."

"A room just above?  I didn't know of that.  Is
there any communication between it and the room
where they watch?"

"No, sir.  You must go down a few stairs and
through the door by the drawbridge, and so to
where the King is lodged."

"And that door is locked?"

"Only the four lords have keys, sir."

I drew nearer to him.

"And have they keys of the grating?" I asked in a
low whisper.

"I think, sir, only Detchard and Rupert."

"Where does the duke lodge?"

"In the chateau, on the first floor.  His
apartments are on the right as you go towards the
drawbridge."

"And Madame de Mauban?"

"Just opposite, on the left.  But her door is
locked after she has entered."

"To keep her in?"

"Doubtless, sir."

"Perhaps for another reason?"

"It is possible."

"And the duke, I suppose, has the key?"

"Yes.  And the drawbridge is drawn back at night,
and of that, too, the duke holds the key, so that
it cannot be run across the moat without
application to him."

"And where do you sleep?"

"In the entrance hall of the chateau, with five
servants."

"Armed?"

"They have pikes, sir, but no firearms.  The duke
will not trust them with firearms."

Then at last I took the matter boldly in my hands.
I had failed once at "Jacob's Ladder;" I should
fail again there.  I must make the attack from the
other side.

"I have promised you twenty thousand crowns," said
I.  "You shall have fifty thousand if you will do
what I ask of you tomorrow night.  But, first, do
those servants know who your prisoner is?"

"No, sir.  They believe him to be some private
enemy of the duke's."

"And they would not doubt that I am the King?"

"How should they?" he asked.

"Look to this, then.  Tomorrow, at two in the
morning exactly, fling open the front door of the
chateau.  Don't fail by an instant."

"Shall you be there, sir?"

"Ask no questions.  Do what I tell you.  Say the
hall is close, or what you will.  That is all I
ask of you."

"And may I escape by the door, sir, when I have
opened it?"

"Yes, as quick as your legs will carry you.  One
thing more.  Carry this note to madame--oh, it's
in French, you can't read it-- and charge her, for
the sake of all our lives, not to fail in what it
orders."

The man was trembling but I had to trust to what
he had of courage and to what he had of honesty.
I dared not wait, for I feared that the King would
die.

When the fellow was gone, I called Sapt and Fritz
to me, and unfolded the plan that I had formed.
Sapt shook his head over it.

"Why can't you wait?" he asked.

"The King may die."

"Michael will be forced to act before that."

"Then," said I, "the King may live."

"Well, and if he does?"

"For a fortnight?" I asked simply.

And Sapt bit his moustache.

Suddenly Fritz von Tarlenheim laid his hand on my
shoulder.

"Let us go and make the attempt," said he.

"I mean you to go--don't be afraid," said I.

"Ay, but do you stay here, and take care of the
princess."

A gleam came into old Sapt's eye.

"We should have Michael one way or the other
then," he chuckled; "whereas if you go and are
killed with the King, what will become of those of
us who are left?"

"They will serve Queen Flavia," said I, "and I
would to God I could be one of them."

A pause followed.  Old Sapt broke it by saying
sadly, yet with an unmeant drollery that set Fritz
and me laughing:

"Why didn't old Rudolf the Third marry
your--great-grandmother, was it?"

"Come," said I, "it is the King we are thinking
about."

"It is true," said Fritz.

"Moreover," I went on, "I have been an impostor
for the profit of another, but I will not be one
for my own; and if the King is not alive and on
his throne before the day of betrothal comes, I
will tell the truth, come what may."

"You shall go, lad," said Sapt.

Here is the plan I had made.  A strong party under
Sapt's command was to steal up to the door of the
chateau.  If discovered prematurely, they were to
kill anyone who found them--with their swords, for
I wanted no noise of firing.  If all went well,
they would be at the door when Johann opened it.
They were to rush in and secure the servants if
their mere presence and the use of the King's name
were not enough.  At the same moment--and on this
hinged the plan--a woman's cry was to ring out
loud and shrill from Antoinette de Mauban's
chamber.  Again and again she was to cry:  "Help,
help!  Michael, help!" and then to utter the name
of young Rupert Hentzau.  Then, as we hoped,
Michael, in fury, would rush out of his apartments
opposite, and fall alive into the hands of Sapt.
Still the cries would go on; and my men would let
down the drawbridge; and it would be strange if
Rupert, hearing his name thus taken in vain, did
not descend from where he slept and seek to cross.
De Gautet might or might not come with him:  that
must be left to chance.

And when Rupert set his foot on the drawbridge?
There was my part:  for I was minded for another
swim in the moat; and, lest I should grow weary, I
had resolved to take with me a small wooden
ladder, on which I could rest my arms in the
water--and my feet when I left it.  I would rear
it against the wall just by the bridge; and when
the bridge was across, I would stealthily creep on
to it--and then if Rupert or De Gautet crossed in
safety, it would be my misfortune, not my fault.
They dead, two men only would remain; and for them
we must trust to the confusion we had created and
to a sudden rush.  We should have the keys of the
door that led to the all-important rooms.  Perhaps
they would rush out.  If they stood by their
orders, then the King's life hung on the swiftness
with which we could force the outer door; and I
thanked God that not Rupert Hentzau watched, but
Detchard.  For though Detchard was a cool man,
relentless, and no coward, he had neither the dash
nor the recklessness of Rupert.  Moreover, he, if
any one of them, really loved Black Michael, and
it might be that he would leave Bersonin to guard
the King, and rush across the bridge to take part
in the affray on the other side.

So I planned--desperately.  And, that our enemy
might be the better lulled to security, I gave
orders that our residence should be brilliantly
lighted from top to bottom, as though we were
engaged in revelry; and should so be kept all
night, with music playing and people moving to and
fro.  Strakencz would be there, and he was to
conceal our departure, if he could, from Flavia.
And if we came not again by the morning, he was to
march, openly and in force to the Castle, and
demand the person of the King; if Black Michael
were not there, as I did not think he would be,
the Marshal would take Flavia with him, as swiftly
as he could, to Strelsau, and there proclaim Black
Michael's treachery and the probable death of the
King, and rally all that there was honest and true
round the banner of the princess.  And, to say
truth, this was what I thought most likely to
happen.  For I had great doubts whether either the
King or Black Michael or I had more than a day to
live.  Well, if Black Michael died, and if I, the
play-actor, slew Rupert Hentzau with my own hand,
and then died myself, it might be that Fate would
deal as lightly with Ruritania as could be hoped,
notwithstanding that she demanded the life of the
King--and to her dealing thus with me, I was in no
temper to make objection.

It was late when we rose from conference, and I
betook me to the princess's apartments.  She was
pensive that evening; yet, when I left her, she
flung her arms about me and grew, for an instant,
bashfully radiant as she slipped a ring on my
finger.  I was wearing the King's ring; but I had
also on my little finger a plain band of gold
engraved with the motto of our family:  "Nil Quae
Feci." This I took off and put on her, and signed
to her to let me go.  And she, understanding,
stood away and watched me with dimmed eyes.

"Wear that ring, even though you wear another when
you are queen," I said.

"Whatever else I wear, this I will wear till I die
and after," said she, as she kissed the ring.