A Modern Mercenary

by K. Prichard and Hesketh Vernon Hesketh Prichard

  CHAPTER XVII.

  IRIS.

  From its beetling crags the Castle of Sagan looked out that night withmany luminous eyes over the crowding black pine woods and away acrossthe frost-bound, melancholy marshes of the frontier. The renewedviolence of the storm had not abated, and the wind moaned about the oldwalls.

  There was one in Sagan that night to whom the wind had an old yet newstory to tell. The Duke had heard it in his cradle even in the summerpalace where he was born; during later years his dulled senses paidlittle heed to that wild singing, and, in truth, passing most of hislife as he now preferred to do in the low-lying sheltered palace atRevonde, where the state apartments were well within the towering massof masonry, and protected on the river side by the Cloister of St.Anthony, he seldom heard its voice. So that to-night, while the _tsa_whimpered and clamoured about the exposed buttresses and towers ofSagan, it sounded to his ears like the calling of some long-dead friend,a wraith belonging to his lost youth. Sleeping memories awoke andtroubled him; he fancied he had read a vague menace in Count Simon'sbloodshot eyes, and every little incident that had taken place sincehis arrival now assumed strange and malign meanings.

  He looked around the great vaulted chamber oppressed by a presentimentof danger, and tried to still his jangled nerves. For with the instinctof failing mastership he resolved to think out some scheme of defenceand a spontaneous policy, by which he might not only defeat his enemies,but outwit and overwhelm his rebellious servants.

  Selpdorf--was he also false and self-seeking? For more years than hecared to remember the Duke had forced this man to enact the part ofvirtual ruler of the State, always believing in his loyalty--if not toGustave of Maasau, at least to Maasau the Free. Any dimmest doubt ofSelpdorf's patriotism had never during all that period entered into thesoddened brain of his master. But to-night, as the Duke recalled thehalf-jesting proposal to disband the Guard, made by the Chancellor onthe day of the review, and added to that hint the pregnant significanceof Valerie's speech, he realised that evil days were overtaking him,that his most trusted minister had been bid for and bought by his foes,and that it now behoved him to strike out a personal policy, whereby heshould secure strong friends and supporters to aid him in the comingstruggle against these traitors.

  He had retired to his room at an early hour under the plea of weariness.He was, as a matter of fact, worn out by the flood of fears andanxieties that Valerie's one reckless sentence had let loose upon him.So long was it since he had placed these weightier matters of diplomacyand government in other hands, that the renewed sense of responsibilityand the imminent need for action seemed to be crushing in his brain. Butthe instinct of self-preservation, backed by the one kingly attributeleft him--love of his country--strengthened him to attempt a finaleffort to combat the overpowering odds which he felt rather than knew tobe against him.

  Tossed and harried by a hundred terrifying thoughts, the self-enfeebledcreature broke at length into that dreadful crying, the scanty painfultears, the aching sobs, which is the weeping of age or of an exhaustedconstitution.

  When the paroxysm was over he lay back in his bed, absolutely drained ofstrength and of all power to think longer. Whether he dozed or not hescarcely knew, but after an interval he seemed to awake as if from sleepwith his thoughts once more under control.

  Oh, that he had his Guard about him! The Guard, always reliable and fullof the old grim dash and power which had been the firm foundation of theducal throne from the beginning. Amongst their ranks was no slackeningof discipline, of devotion, or of that splendid recklessness which hadmade them what they were--the premier Garde du Corps of Europe! Inspirit he yearned once more to see their plumes and gleaming equipmentcome dancing down the sunny wind, and to hear the grand thunder oftheir charge, which but the other day he had been half-inclined to callstale and unprofitable. In this solitary hour, when the night-lampsflickered on the massive walls and the sense of loneliness grew upon himtill he sickened at the unceasing cry of the pitiless wind, he realisedthat the Guard was the sole bulwark now as always of Maasau. He shivereddown among the soft coverings and listened apprehensively.

  Unziar and Rallywood with two troopers watched in the guard-room,through which lay the only approach to his sleeping chamber. Unziar,could Unziar be trusted? He had heard something of Unziar and thathandsome vixen of Selpdorf's. Then Colendorp--ah, there was no doubtthere! Dark and resentful, his poverty and his pride were the bye-wordsof the barracks; he, whatever the temptation, would never fall fromhonour.

  There remained Rallywood. He, too, was to be depended upon, the Dukedecided quickly, though for no special reason but that he had taken somevague fancy to the Englishman's bronzed face and swinging stride. YetSimon was powerful and unscrupulous; how could this handful of menoppose him?

  He sprang up in his bed as the door opened and a man stood on thethreshold.

  'Sire, there is treason! Colendorp has been murdered.'

  'Is it you, Unziar?' The Duke's voice came strangely from his pillows.'Send for the whole escort of the Guard from their quarters.'

  'Impossible, sire! The corridors are held by Count Sagan's men.Mademoiselle Selpdorf has brought the news.'

  'What! You told me not two hours ago she was engaged to von Elmur. Sheis the price of Selpdorf's treason.'

  Unziar stepped nearer.

  'Mademoiselle Selpdorf has already risked her life to warn us that weare in danger. I'd stake my soul she is loyal.'

  'Good indeed, Anthony! I'd sooner have your honour than your soul. Butgo, in the name of the Virgin, and since the corridors are closed to themen of my Guard, send the girl for Major Counsellor. She can but die!'

  Unziar saluted and hurried back to the ante-room where Valerie andRallywood were waiting. In spite of his personal horror at the thoughtof her danger, he was well aware that only by Valerie's aid could theyhope to reach Counsellor.

  Valerie listened to the Duke's order, then wrapping the lace as beforeabout her head turned to Rallywood. He accompanied her through theguard-room and some little way along the passage. It seemed as if hecould not let her go forth on this perilous enterprise.

  'For God's sake, take care of yourself!' he said. 'If anything were tohappen to you.'

  The prolonged excitement of events, the sense of responsibility anddanger, the exaltation of such a moment must have reacted on Valerie.Whether prompted by some instinct of coquetry, or betrayed into a touchof real feeling, or perhaps moved by the knowledge that death stoodclose beside them both, she drew her hand from his arm and raising herface asked in her soft voice:

  'Do you remember what you said to me once--on the night of the palaceball?'

  He saw the deep eyes upraised to his, though their meaning in that dimplace he could not be sure of, but a rush of quick memories came overhim.

  'Yes.'

  She gave a little excited laugh.

  'Then expect me!' she said. And she was gone.

  When Valerie returned to Madame de Sagan half an hour later she wasstill white and breathless. Isolde, in a fever of impatient terror,caught her by the arm.

  'Where is he? When is he coming! Valerie--'

  Valerie made a supreme effort to control herself.

  'He is on guard.'

  'Yes, I know. I know! But he is coming!'

  'It was impossible! He could not leave His Highness. Isolde, you wouldnot wish it!'

  'What does anything matter unless it's found out?' cried Isolde, givingin her adherence to a common creed. 'Did you give him all my message?Did you make him understand? Then, when all else failed, you asked himfor the cigarette case? That would remind him----' Madame de Sagan spokein growing agitation.

  Valerie looked into her wild eyes.

  'I forgot that,' she admitted.

  Isolde shook the arm she held.

  'You have killed him! Valerie, you have been jealous of me, and by yourjealousy you have killed him! Had you spoken as I told you he would behere now--and safe! As it is he is lost!' she flung herself
down amongthe cushions.

  Her slender hands were clenched, her turquoise eyes stared wide andblind from her white face. She seemed to hold her breath as if waitingfor the inevitable blow to fall. Valerie, greatly moved, knelt downbeside her.

  'What does it matter if we die to-night or a month hence?' Isolde spokein a low voice; her heart had unconsciously been gathering up bitternessagainst Valerie, and she had no longer the strength to conceal it underthis unbearable strain. 'Valerie, you have stooped to meanness--you whohave so scorned meanness in others. You knew long ago what--Rallywood'slove was to me. You have known my life, and much that I have to bear.Amongst all who pretend to love me there is not one like him, not one!He would be always kind and true. I think these are English qualities,for in another way there is Major Counsellor----' the weary voice brokeoff as if too tired for more.

  It was well Counsellor never heard that little expression of opinionconcerning himself; it might have proved the thorn in a somewhat callousdiplomatic memory.

  'You have betrayed me! You!' she repeated with a bitter laugh; then,springing up, she ran towards the spot where her sables lay heaped uponthe floor just as Valerie had dropped them from her shoulders.

  'It may be too late, but I will go myself. I will save him if I can!'

  Valerie wrapped the cloak around her.

  'Isolde, I will go with you.'

  'You!' Isolde turned with a startling look of dislike and suspicion.'No, I hate you, and I choose to go alone!'

  Valerie drew back and Madame de Sagan passed her by and flung wide thedoor. As she did so a confused noise could be heard, and the two womenstood listening while a distant hubbub of voices rose louder, then apistol shot followed by others echoed down the passages.

  'He is dead! By your fault!'

  Isolde turned upon Valerie with a wild gesture, as if she would havestruck her.

  Valerie drew back.

  'If you really loved him, Isolde, you would rather he was--there--withhis honour--than--here--without it,' she said.