Rupert of Hentzau: From The Memoirs of Fritz Von Tarlenheim

by Anthony Hope

  CHAPTER XX. THE DECISION OF HEAVEN

  WE were half mad that night, Sapt and Bernenstein and I. The thingseemed to have got into our blood and to have become part of ourselves.For us it was inevitable--nay, it was done. Sapt busied himself inpreparing the account of the fire at the hunting-lodge; it was to becommunicated to the journals, and it told with much circumstantialityhow Rudolf Rassendyll had come to visit the king, with James hisservant, and, the king being summoned unexpectedly to the capital, hadbeen awaiting his Majesty's return when he met his fate. There was ashort history of Rudolf, a glancing reference to his family, a dignifiedexpression of condolence with his relatives, to whom the king wassending messages of deepest regret by the hands of Mr. Rassendyll'sservant. At another table young Bernenstein was drawing up, under theconstable's direction, a narrative of Rupert of Hentzau's attempt onthe king's life and the king's courage in defending himself. The count,eager to return (so it ran), had persuaded the king to meet him bydeclaring that he held a state-document of great importance and of amost secret nature; the king, with his habitual fearlessness, had gonealone, but only to refuse with scorn Count Rupert's terms. Enraged atthis unfavorable reception, the audacious criminal had made a suddenattack on the king, with what issue all knew. He had met his owndeath, while the king, perceiving from a glance at the document that itcompromised well-known persons, had, with the nobility which marked him,destroyed it unread before the eyes of those who were rushing in tohis rescue. I supplied suggestions and improvements; and, engrossed incontriving how to blind curious eyes, we forgot the real and permanentdifficulties of the thing we had resolved upon. For us they did notexist; Sapt met every objection by declaring that the thing had beendone once and could be done again. Bernenstein and I were not behind himin confidence.

  We would guard the secret with brain and hand and life, even as we hadguarded and kept the secret of the queen's letter, which would now gowith Rupert of Hentzau to his grave. Bauer we could catch and silence:nay, who would listen to such a tale from such a man? Rischenheim wasours; the old woman would keep her doubts between her teeth for her ownsake. To his own land and his own people Rudolf must be dead whilethe King of Ruritania would stand before all Europe recognized,unquestioned, unassailed. True, he must marry the queen again; Sapt wasready with the means, and would hear nothing of the difficulty and riskin finding a hand to perform the necessary ceremony. If we quailed inour courage: we had but to look at the alternative, and find recompensethe perils of what we meant to undertake by a consideration thedesperate risk involved in abandoning it. Persuaded the substitution ofRudolf for the king was the only thing would serve our turn, we askedno longer whether it possible, but sought only the means to make it safeand safe.

  But Rudolf himself had not spoken. Sapt's appeal and the queen'simploring cry had shaken but not overcome him; he had wavered, but hewas not won. Yet there was no talk of impossibility or peril in hismouth, any more than in ours: those were not what gave him pause. Thescore on which he hesitated was whether the thing should be done, notwhether it could; our appeals were not to brace a failing courage, butcajole a sturdy sense of honor which found the imposture distastefulso soon as it seemed to serve a personal end. To serve the king he hadplayed the king in old days, but he did not love to play the king whenthe profit of it was to be his own. Hence he was unmoved till his carefor the fair fame of the queen and the love of his friends joined tobuffet his resolution.

  Then he faltered; but he had not fallen. Yet Colonel Sapt did all asthough he had given his assent, and watched the last hours in whichhis flight from Strelsau was possible go quickly by with more thanequanimity. Why hurry Rudolf's resolve? Every moment shut him closer inthe trap of an inevitable choice. With every hour that he was called theking, it became more impossible for him to bear any other name all hisdays. Therefore Sapt let Mr. Rassendyll doubt and struggle, while hehimself wrote his story and laid his long-headed plans. And now and thenJames, the little servant, came in and went out, sedate and smug, butwith a quiet satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He had made a story fora pastime, and it was being translated into history. He at least wouldbear his part in it unflinchingly.

  Before now the queen had left us, persuaded to lie down and try to resttill the matter should be settled. Stilled by Rudolf's gentle rebuke,she had urged him no more in words, but there was an entreaty in hereyes stronger than any spoken prayer, and a piteousness in the lingeringof her hand in his harder to resist than ten thousand sad petitions.At last he had led her from the room and commended her to Helga's care.Then, returning to us, he stood silent a little while. We also weresilent, Sapt sitting and looking up at him with his brows knit and histeeth restlessly chewing the moustache on his lip.

  "Well, lad?" he said at last, briefly putting the great question. Rudolfwalked to the window and seemed to lose himself for a moment inthe contemplation of the quiet night. There were no more than a fewstragglers in the street now; the moon shone white and clear on theempty square.

  "I should like to walk up and down outside and think it over," he said,turning to us; and, as Bernenstein sprang up to accompany him, he added,"No. Alone."

  "Yes, do," said old Sapt, with a glance at the clock, whose hands werenow hard on two o'clock. "Take your time, lad, take your time."

  Rudolf looked at him and broke into a smile.

  "I'm not your dupe, old Sapt," said he, shaking his head. "Trust me, ifI decide to get away, I'll get away, be it what o'clock it will."

  "Yes, confound you!" grinned Colonel Sapt.

  So he left us, and then came that long time of scheming and planning,and most persistent eye-shutting, in which occupations an hour wore itslife away. Rudolf had not passed out of the porch, and we supposed thathe had betaken himself to the gardens, there to fight his battle. OldSapt, having done his work, suddenly turned talkative.

  "That moon there," he said, pointing his square, thick forefinger at thewindow, "is a mighty untrustworthy lady. I've known her wake a villain'sconscience before now."

  "I've known her send a lover's to sleep," laughed young Bernenstein,rising from his table, stretching himself, and lighting a cigar.

  "Ay, she's apt to take a man out of what he is," pursued old Sapt. "Seta quiet man near her, and he dreams of battle; an ambitious fellow,after ten minutes of her, will ask nothing better than to muse all hislife away. I don't trust her, Fritz; I wish the night were dark."

  "What will she do to Rudolf Rassendyll?" I asked, falling in with theold fellow's whimsical mood.

  "He will see the queen's face in hers," cried Bernenstein.

  "He may see God's," said Sapt; and he shook himself as though anunwelcome thought had found its way to his mind and lips.

  A pause fell on us, born of the colonel's last remark. We looked oneanother in the face. At last Sapt brought his hand down on the tablewith a bang.

  "I'll not go back," he said sullenly, almost fiercely.

  "Nor I," said Bernenstein, drawing himself up. "Nor you, Tarlenheim?"

  "No, I also go on," I answered. Then again there was a moment's silence.

  "She may make a man soft as a sponge," reflected Sapt, starting again,"or hard as a bar of steel. I should feel safer if the night were dark.I've looked at her often from my tent and from bare ground, and I knowher. She got me a decoration, and once she came near to making me turntail. Have nothing to do with her, young Bernenstein."

  "I'll keep my eyes for beauties nearer at hand," said Bernenstein, whosevolatile temper soon threw off a serious mood.

  "There's a chance for you, now Rupert of Hentzau's gone," said Saptgrimly.

  As he spoke there was a knock at the door. When it opened James entered.

  "The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim begs to be allowed to speak with theking," said James.

  "We expect his Majesty every moment. Beg the count to enter," Saptanswered; and, when Rischenheim came in, he went on, motioning the countto a chair: "We are talking, my lord, of the influence of the moon onthe careers of men." />
  "What are you going to do? What have you decided?" burst out Rischenheimimpatiently.

  "We decide nothing," answered Sapt.

  "Then what has Mr.--what has the king decided?"

  "The king decides nothing, my lord. She decides," and the old fellowpointed again through the window towards the moon. "At this momentshe makes or unmakes a king; but I can't tell you which. What of yourcousin?"

  "You know that my cousin's dead."

  "Yes, I know that. What of him, though?"

  "Sir," said Rischenheim with some dignity, "since he is dead, let himrest in peace. It is not for us to judge him."

  "He may well wish it were. For, by Heaven, I believe I should let therogue off," said Colonel Sapt, "and I don't think his Judge will."

  "God forgive him, I loved him," said Rischenheim. "Yes, and many haveloved him. His servants loved him, sir."

  "Friend Bauer, for example?"

  "Yes, Bauer loved him. Where is Bauer?"

  "I hope he's gone to hell with his loved master," grunted Sapt, but hehad the grace to lower his voice and shield his mouth with his hand, sothat Rischenheim did not hear.

  "We don't know where he is," I answered.

  "I am come," said Rischenheim, "to put my services in all respects atthe queen's disposal."

  "And at the king's?" asked Sapt.

  "At the king's? But the king is dead."

  "Therefore 'Long live the king!'" struck in young Bernenstein.

  "If there should be a king--" began Sapt.

  "You'll do that?" interrupted Rischenheim in breathless agitation.

  "She is deciding," said Colonel Sapt, and again he pointed to the moon.

  "But she's a plaguey long time about it," remarked Lieutenant vonBernenstein.

  Rischenheim sat silent for a moment. His face was pale, and when hespoke his voice trembled. But his words were resolute enough.

  "I gave my honor to the queen, and even in that I will serve her if shecommands me."

  Bernenstein sprang forward and caught him by the hand. "That's what Ilike," said he, "and damn the moon, colonel!" His sentence was hardlyout of his mouth when the door opened, and to our astonishment the queenentered. Helga was just behind her; her clasped hands and frightenedeyes seemed to protest that their coming was against her will. The queenwas clad in a long white robe, and her hair hung on her shoulders, beingbut loosely bound with a ribbon. Her air showed great agitation, andwithout any greeting or notice of the rest she walked quickly across theroom to me.

  "The dream, Fritz," she said. "It has come again. Helga persuaded me tolie down, and I was very tired, so at last I fell asleep. Then it came.I saw him, Fritz--I saw him as plainly as I see you. They all called himking, as they did to-day; but they did not cheer. They were quiet, andlooked at him with sad faces. I could not hear what they said; theyspoke in hushed voices. I heard nothing more than 'the king, the king,'and he seemed to hear not even that. He lay still; he was lying onsomething, something covered with hanging stuff, I couldn't see what itwas; yes, quite still. His face was so pale, and he didn't hear themsay 'the king.' Fritz, Fritz, he looked as if he were dead! Where is he?Where have you let him go?"

  She turned from me and her eyes flashed over the rest. "Where is he? Whyaren't you with him?" she demanded, with a sudden change of tone; "whyaren't you round him? You should be between him and danger, ready togive your lives for his. Indeed, gentlemen, you take your duty lightly."

  It might be that there was little reason in her words. There appeared tobe no danger threatening him, and after all he was not our king, much aswe desired to make him such. Yet we did not think of any such matter. Wewere abashed before her reproof and took her indignation as deserved.We hung our heads, and Sapt's shame betrayed itself in the doggedsullenness of his answer.

  "He has chosen to go walking, madam, and to go alone. He ordered us--Isay, he ordered us not to come. Surely we are right to obey him?" Thesarcastic inflection of his voice conveyed his opinion of the queen'sextravagance.

  "Obey him? Yes. You couldn't go with him if he forbade you. But youshould follow him; you should keep him in sight."

  This much she spoke in proud tones and with a disdainful manner, butthen came a sudden return to her former bearing. She held out her handstowards me, wailing:

  "Fritz, where is he? Is he safe? Find him for me, Fritz; find him."

  "I'll find him for you if he's above ground, madam," I cried, for herappeal touched me to the heart.

  "He's no farther off than the gardens," grumbled old Sapt, stillresentful of the queen's reproof and scornful of the woman's agitation.He was also out of temper with Rudolf himself, because the moon took solong in deciding whether she would make or unmake a king.

  "The gardens!" she cried. "Then let us look for him. Oh, you've let himwalk in the gardens alone?"

  "What should harm the fellow?" muttered Sapt.

  She did not hear him, for she had swept out of the room. Helga went withher, and we all followed, Sapt behind the rest of us, still very surly.I heard him grumbling away as we ran downstairs, and, having passedalong the great corridor, came to the small saloon that opened onthe gardens. There were no servants about, but we encountered anight-watchman, and Bernenstein snatched the lantern from the astonishedman's hand.

  Save for the dim light thus furnished, the room was dark. But outsidethe windows the moon streamed brightly down on the broad gravel walk,on the formal flower-beds, and the great trees in the gardens. The queenmade straight for the window. I followed her, and, having flung thewindow open, stood by her. The air was sweet, and the breeze struck withgrateful coolness on my face. I saw that Sapt had come near and stood onthe other side of the queen. My wife and the others were behind, lookingout where our shoulders left space.

  There, in the bright moonlight, on the far side of the broad terrace,close by the line of tall trees that fringed its edge, we saw RudolfRassendyll pacing slowly up and down, with his hands behind his back andhis eyes fixed on the arbiter of his fate, on her who was to make him aking or send him a fugitive from Strelsau.

  "There he is, madam," said Sapt. "Safe enough!"

  The queen did not answer. Sapt said no more, and of the rest of us nonespoke. We stood watching him as he struggled with his great issue; agreater surely has seldom fallen to the lot of any man born in a privatestation. Yet I could read little of it on the face that the rays ofwhite light displayed so clearly, although they turned his healthy tintsto a dull gray, and gave unnatural sharpness to his features against thedeep background of black foliage.

  I heard the queen's quick breathing, but there was scarcely anothersound. I saw her clutch her gown and pull it away a little from herthroat; save for that none in the group moved. The lantern's lightwas too dim to force notice from Mr. Rassendyll. Unconscious of ourpresence, he wrestled with fate that night in the gardens.

  Suddenly the faintest exclamation came from Sapt. He put his hand backand beckoned to Bernenstein. The young man handed his lantern to theconstable, who set it close to the side of the window-frame. The queen,absolutely engrossed in her lover, saw nothing, but I perceived what hadcaught Sapt's attention. There were scores on the paint and indentationsin the wood, just at the edge of the panel and near the lock. I glancedat Sapt, who nodded his head. It looked very much as though somebody hadtried to force the door that night, employing a knife which had dentedthe woodwork and scratched the paint. The least thing was enough toalarm us, standing where we stood, and the constable's face was fullof suspicion. Who had sought an entrance? It could be no trained andpractised housebreaker; he would have had better tools.

  But now our attention was again diverted. Rudolf stopped short. He stilllooked for a moment at the sky, then his glance dropped to the ground athis feet. A second later he jerked his head--it was bare, and I sawthe dark red hair stir with the movement--like a man who has settledsomething which caused him a puzzle. In an instant we knew, by the quickintuition of contagious emotion, that the question had found its ans
wer.He was by now king or a fugitive. The Lady of the Skies had given herdecision. The thrill ran through us; I felt the queen draw herselftogether at my side; I felt the muscles of Rischenheim's arm whichrested against my shoulder grow rigid and taut. Sapt's face was full ofeagerness, and he gnawed his moustache silently. We gathered closer toone another. At last we could bear the suspense no longer. With one lookat the queen and another at me, Sapt stepped on to the gravel. He wouldgo and learn the answer; thus the unendurable strain that had stretchedus like tortured men on a rack would be relieved. The queen did notanswer his glance, nor even seem to see that he had moved. Her eyeswere still all for Mr. Rassendyll, her thoughts buried in his; for herhappiness was in his hands and lay poised on the issue of that decisionwhose momentousness held him for a moment motionless on the path. OftenI seem to see him as he stood there, tall, straight, and stately, theking a man's fancy paints when he reads of great monarchs who flourishedlong ago in the springtime of the world.

  Sapt's step crunched on the gravel. Rudolf heard it and turned his head.He saw Sapt, and he saw me also behind Sapt. He smiled composedly andbrightly, but he did not move from where he was. He held out bothhands towards the constable and caught him in their double grasp, stillsmiling down in his face. I was no nearer to reading his decision,though I saw that he had reached a resolution that was immovable andgave peace to his soul. If he meant to go on he would go on now, onto the end, without a backward look or a falter of his foot; if he hadchosen the other way, he would depart without a murmur or a hesitation.The queen's quick breathing had ceased, she seemed like a statue; butRischenheim moved impatiently, as though he could no longer endure thewaiting.

  Sapt's voice came harsh and grating.

  "Well?" he cried. "Which is it to be--backward or forward?" Rudolfpressed his hands and looked into his eyes. The answer asked but a wordfrom him. The queen caught my arm; her rigid limbs seemed to giveway, and she would have fallen if I had not supported her. At the sameinstant a man sprang out of the dark line of tall trees, directly behindMr. Rassendyll. Bernenstein uttered a loud startled cry and rushedforward, pushing the queen herself violently out of his path. His handflew to his side, and he ripped the heavy cavalry sword that belongedto his uniform of the Cuirassiers of the Guard from its sheath. I saw itflash in the moonlight, but its flash was quenched in a brighter shortblaze. A shot rang out through the quiet gardens. Mr. Rassendyll did notloose his hold of Sapt's hands, but he sank slowly on to his knees. Saptseemed paralyzed.

  Again Bernenstein cried out. It was a name this time. "Bauer! By God,Bauer!" he cried.

  In an instant he was across the path and by the trees. The assassinfired again, but now he missed. We saw the great sword flash high aboveBernenstein's head and heard it whistle through the air. It crashed onthe crown of Bauer's head, and he fell like a log to the ground with hisskull split. The queen's hold on me relaxed; she sank into Rischenheim'sarms. I ran forward and knelt by Mr. Rassendyll. He still held Sapt'shands, and by their help buoyed himself up. But when he saw me he let goof them and sank back against me, his head resting on my chest. He movedhis lips, but seemed unable to speak. He was shot through the back.Bauer had avenged the master whom he loved, and was gone to meet him.

  There was a sudden stir from inside the palace. Shutters were flungback and windows thrown open. The group we made stood clean-cut, plainlyvisible in the moonlight. A moment later there was a rush of eager feet,and we were surrounded by officers and servants. Bernenstein stood byme now, leaning on his sword; Sapt had not uttered a word; his face wasdistorted with horror and bitterness. Rudolf's eyes were closed and hishead lay back against me.

  "A man has shot the king," said I, in bald, stupid explanation.

  All at once I found James, Mr. Rassendyll's servant, by me.

  "I have sent for doctors, my lord," he said. "Come, let us carry himin."

  He, Sapt and I lifted Rudolf and bore him across the gravel terraceand into the little saloon. We passed the queen. She was leaning onRischenheim's arm, and held my wife's hand. We laid Rudolf down on acouch. Outside I heard Bernenstein say, "Pick up that fellow and carryhim somewhere out of sight." Then he also came in, followed by a crowd.He sent them all to the door, and we were left alone, waiting for thesurgeon. The queen came up, Rischenheim still supporting her. "Rudolf!Rudolf!" she whispered, very softly.

  He opened his eyes, and his lips bent in a smile. She flung herself onher knees and kissed his hand passionately. "The surgeon will be heredirectly," said I.

  Rudolf's eyes had been on the queen. As I spoke he looked up at me,smiled again, and shook his head. I turned away.

  When the surgeon came Sapt and I assisted him in his examination. Thequeen had been led away, and we were alone. The examination was veryshort. Then we carried Rudolf to a bed; the nearest chanced to be inBernenstein's room; there we laid him, and there all that could bedone for him was done. All this time we had asked no questions of thesurgeon, and he had given no information. We knew too well to ask: wehad all seen men die before now, and the look on the face was familiarto us. Two or three more doctors, the most eminent in Strelsau, camenow, having been hastily summoned. It was their right to be called; but,for all the good they were, they might have been left to sleep the nightout in their beds. They drew together in a little group at the end ofthe room and talked for a few minutes in low tones. James lifted hismaster's head and gave him a drink of water. Rudolf swallowed it withdifficulty. Then I saw him feebly press James's hand, for the littleman's face was full of sorrow. As his master smiled the servant mustereda smile in answer. I crossed over to the doctors. "Well, gentlemen?" Iasked.

  They looked at one another, then the greatest of them said gravely:

  "The king may live an hour, Count Fritz. Should you not send for apriest?"

  I went straight back to Rudolf Rassendyll. His eyes greeted me andquestioned me. He was a man, and I played no silly tricks with him. Ibent down and said: "An hour, they think, Rudolf."

  He made one restless movement, whether of pain or protest I do not know.Then he spoke, very low, slowly, and with difficulty.

  "Then they can go," he said; and when I spoke of a priest he shook hishead.

  I went back to them and asked if anything more could be done. The answerwas nothing; but I could not prevail further than to get all save onesent into an adjoining room; he who remained seated himself at a tablesome way off. Rudolf's eyes had closed again; old Sapt, who had not oncespoken since the shot was fired, raised a haggard face to mine.

  "We'd better fetch her to him," he said hoarsely. I nodded my head.

  Sapt went while I stayed by him. Bernenstein came to him, bent down,and kissed his hand. The young fellow, who had borne himself with suchreckless courage and dash throughout the affair, was quite unmanned now,and the tears were rolling down his face. I could have been much inthe same plight, but I would not before Mr. Rassendyll. He smiled atBernenstein. Then he said to me:

  "Is she coming, Fritz?"

  "Yes, she's coming, sire," I answered.

  He noticed the style of my address; a faint amused gleam shot into hislanguid eyes.

  "Well, for an hour, then," he murmured, and lay back on his pillows.

  She came, dry-eyed, calm, and queenly. We all drew back, and she kneltdown by his bed, holding his hand in her two hands. Presently the handstirred; she let it go; then, knowing well what he wanted, she raised itherself and placed it on her head, while she bowed her face to the bed.His hand wandered for the last time over the gleaming hair that he hadloved so well. She rose, passed her arm about his shoulders, and kissedhis lips. Her face rested close to his, and he seemed to speak to her,but we could not have heard the words even if we would. So they remainedfor a long while.

  The doctor came and felt his pulse, retreating afterwards withclose-shut lips. We drew a little nearer, for we knew that he wouldnot be long with us now. Suddenly strength seemed to come upon him. Heraised himself in his bed, and spoke in distinct tones.

  "Go
d has decided," he said. "I've tried to do the right thing through itall. Sapt, and Bernenstein, and you, old Fritz, shake my hand. No, don'tkiss it. We've done with pretence now."

  We shook his hand as he bade us. Then he took the queen's hand. Againshe knew his mind, and moved it to his lips. "In life and in death, mysweet queen," he murmured. And thus he fell asleep.