by Энтони Хоуп
"I thought I heard hoofs," said he.
"I think not, your Highness."
"Why shouldn't we go to the lodge?"
"I fear a trap. If all is well, why go to the lodge? If not, it's a snare to trap us."
Suddenly the duke's horse neighed. In an instant we folded our cloaks close round our horses' heads, and, holding them thus, covered the duke and his attendant with our revolvers. If they had found us, they had been dead men, or our prisoners.
Michael waited a moment longer. Then he cried:
"To Zenda, then!" and setting spurs to his horse, galloped on.
Sapt raised his weapon after him, and there was such an expression of wistful regret on his face that I had much ado not to burst out laughing.
For ten minutes we stayed where we were.
"You see," said Sapt, "they've sent him news that all is well."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"God knows," said Sapt, frowning heavily. "But it's brought him from Strelsau in a rare puzzle."
Then we mounted, and rode as fast as our weary horses could lay their feet to the ground. For those last eight miles we spoke no more. Our minds were full of apprehension. "All is well." What did it mean? Was all well with the King?
At last the lodge came in sight. Spurring our horses to a last gallop, we rode up to the gate. All was still and quiet. Not a soul came to meet us. We dismounted in haste. Suddenly Sapt caught me by the arm.
"Look there!" he said, pointing to the ground.
I looked down. At my feet lay five or six silk handkerchiefs, torn and slashed and rent. I turned to him questioningly.
"They're what I tied the old woman up with," said he. "Fasten the horses, and come along."
The handle of the door turned without resistance. We passed into the room which had been the scene of last night's bout. It was still strewn with the remnants of our meal and with empty bottles.
"Come on," cried Sapt, whose marvellous composure had at last almost given way.
We rushed down the passage towards the cellars. The door of the coal-cellar stood wide open.
"They found the old woman," said I.
"You might have known that from the handkerchiefs," he said.
Then we came opposite the door of the wine-cellar. It was shut. It looked in all respects as it had looked when we left it that morning.
"Come, it's all right," said I.
A loud oath from Sapt rang out. His face turned pale, and he pointed again at the floor. From under the door a red stain had spread over the floor of the passage and dried there. Sapt sank against the opposite wall. I tried the door. It was locked.
"Where's Josef?" muttered Sapt.
"Where's the King?" I responded.
Sapt took out a flask and put it to his lips. I ran back to the dining-room, and seized a heavy poker from the fireplace. In my terror and excitement I rained blows on the lock of the door, and I fired a cartridge into it. It gave way, and the door swung open.
"Give me a light," said I; but Sapt still leant against the wall.
He was, of course, more moved than I, for he loved his master. Afraid for himself he was not-no man ever saw him that; but to think what might lie in that dark cellar was enough to turn any man's face pale.
I went myself, and took a silver candlestick from the dining-table and struck a light, and, as I returned, I felt the hot wax drip on my naked hand as the candle swayed to and fro; so that I cannot afford to despise Colonel Sapt for his agitation.
I came to the door of the cellar. The red stain turning more and more to a dull brown, stretched inside. I walked two yards into the cellar, and held the candle high above my head. I saw the full bins of wine; I saw spiders crawling on the walls; I saw, too, a couple of empty bottles lying on the floor; and then, away in the corner, I saw the body of a man, lying flat on his back, with his arms stretched wide, and a crimson gash across his throat. I walked to him and knelt down beside him, and commended to God the soul of a faithful man. For it was the body of Josef, the little servant, slain in guarding the King.
I felt a hand on my shoulders, and, turning, saw Sapt, eyes glaring and terror-struck, beside me.
"The King? My God! the King?" he whispered hoarsely.
I threw the candle's gleam over every inch of the cellar.
"The King is not here," said I.
Chapter 7
His Majesty Sleeps in Strelsau
I put my arm round Sapt's waist and supported him out of the cellar, drawing the battered door close after me. For ten minutes or more we sat silent in the dining-room. Then old Sapt rubbed his knuckles into his eyes, gave one great gasp, and was himself again. As the clock on the mantelpiece struck one he stamped his foot on the floor, saying:
"They've got the King!"
"Yes," said I, "'all's well!' as Black Michael's despatch said. What a moment it must have been for him when the royal salutes fired at Strelsau this morning! I wonder when he got the message?"
"It must have been sent in the morning," said Sapt. "They must have sent it before news of your arrival at Strelsau reached Zenda-I suppose it came from Zenda."
"And he's carried it about all day!" I exclaimed. "Upon my honour, I'm not the only man who's had a trying day! What did he think, Sapt?"
"What does that matter? What does he think, lad, now?"
I rose to my feet.
"We must get back," I said, "and rouse every soldier in Strelsau. We ought to be in pursuit of Michael before midday."
Old Sapt pulled out his pipe and carefully lit it from the candle which guttered on the table.
"The King may be murdered while we sit here!" I urged.
Sapt smoked on for a moment in silence.
"That cursed old woman!" he broke out. "She must have attracted their attention somehow. I see the game. They came up to kidnap the King, and-as I say-somehow they found him. If you hadn't gone to Strelsau, you and I and Fritz had been in heaven by now!"
"And the King?"
"Who knows where the King is now?" he asked.
"Come, let's be off!" said I; but he sat still. And suddenly he burst into one of his grating chuckles:
"By Jove, we've shaken up Black Michael!"
"Come, come!" I repeated impatiently.
"And we'll shake him up a bit more," he added, a cunning smile broadening on his wrinkled, weather-beaten face, and his teeth working on an end of his grizzled moustache. "Ay, lad, we'll go back to Strelsau. The King shall be in his capital again tomorrow."
"The King?"
"The crowned King!"
"You're mad!" I cried.
"If we go back and tell the trick we played, what would you give for our lives?"
"Just what they're worth," said I.
"And for the King's throne? Do you think that the nobles and the people will enjoy being fooled as you've fooled them? Do you think they'll love a King who was too drunk to be crowned, and sent a servant to personate him?"
"He was drugged-and I'm no servant."
"Mine will be Black Michael's version."
He rose, came to me, and laid his hand on my shoulder.
"Lad," he said, "if you play the man, you may save the King yet. Go back and keep his throne warm for him."
"But the duke knows-the villains he has employed know-"
"Ay, but they can't speak!" roared Sapt in grim triumph.
"We've got 'em! How can they denounce you without denouncing themselves?
This is not the King, because we kidnapped the King and murdered his servant. Can they say that?"
The position flashed on me. Whether Michael knew me or not, he could not speak. Unless he produced the King, what could he do? And if he produced the King, where was he? For a moment I was carried away headlong; but in an instant the difficulties came strong upon me.
"I must be found out," I urged.
"Perhaps; but every hour's something. Above all, we must have a King in Strelsau, or the city will be Michael's in four-and-twenty hour
s, and what would the King's life be worth then-or his throne? Lad, you must do it!"
"Suppose they kill the King?"
"They'll kill him, if you don't."
"Sapt, suppose they have killed the King?"
"Then, by heaven, you're as good an Elphberg as Black Michael, and you shall reign in Ruritania! But I don't believe they have; nor will they kill him if you're on the throne. Will they kill him, to put you in?"
It was a wild plan-wilder even and more hopeless than the trick we had already carried through; but as I listened to Sapt I saw the strong points in our game. And then I was a young man and I loved action, and I was offered such a hand in such a game as perhaps never man played yet.
"I shall be found out," I said.
"Perhaps," said Sapt. "Come! to Strelsau! We shall be caught like rats in a trap if we stay here."
"Sapt," I cried, "I'll try it!"
"Well played!" said he. "I hope they've left us the horses. I'll go and see."
"We must bury that poor fellow," said I.
"No time," said Sapt.
"I'll do it."
"Hang you!" he grinned. "I make you a King, and-Well, do it. Go and fetch him, while I look to the horses. He can't lie very deep, but I doubt if he'll care about that. Poor little Josef! He was an honest bit of a man."
He went out, and I went to the cellar. I raised poor Josef in my arms and bore him into the passage and thence towards the door of the house.
Just inside I laid him down, remembering that I must find spades for our task. At this instant Sapt came up.
"The horses are all right; there's the own brother to the one that brought you here. But you may save yourself that job."
"I'll not go before he's buried."
"Yes, you will."
"Not I, Colonel Sapt; not for all Ruritania."
"You fool!" said he. "Come here."
He drew me to the door. The moon was sinking, but about three hundred yards away, coming along the road from Zenda, I made out a party of men.
There were seven or eight of them; four were on horseback and the rest were walking, and I saw that they carried long implements, which I guessed to be spades and mattocks, on their shoulders.
"They'll save you the trouble," said Sapt. "Come along."
He was right. The approaching party must, beyond doubt, be Duke Michael's men, come to remove the traces of their evil work. I hesitated no longer, but an irresistible desire seized me.
Pointing to the corpse of poor little Josef, I said to Sapt:
"Colonel, we ought to strike a blow for him!"
"You'd like to give him some company, eh! But it's too risky work, your Majesty."
"I must have a slap at 'em," said I.
Sapt wavered.
"Well," said he, "it's not business, you know; but you've been good boy-and if we come to grief, why, hang me, it'll save us lot of thinking! I'll show you how to touch them."
He cautiously closed the open chink of the door.
Then we retreated through the house and made our way to the back entrance. Here our horses were standing. A carriage-drive swept all round the lodge.
"Revolver ready?" asked Sapt.
"No; steel for me," said I.
"Gad, you're thirsty tonight," chuckled Sapt. "So be it."
We mounted, drawing our swords, and waited silently for a minute or two.
Then we heard the tramp of men on the drive the other side of the house.
They came to a stand, and one cried:
"Now then, fetch him out!"
"Now!" whispered Sapt.
Driving the spurs into our horses, we rushed at a gallop round the house, and in a moment we were among the ruffians. Sapt told me afterwards that he killed a man, and I believe him; but I saw no more of him. With a cut, I split the head of a fellow on a brown horse, and he fell to the ground. Then I found myself opposite a big man, and I was half conscious of another to my right. It was too warm to stay, and with a simultaneous action I drove my spurs into my horse again and my sword full into the big man's breast. His bullet whizzed past my ear-I could almost swear it touched it. I wrenched at the sword, but it would not come, and I dropped it and galloped after Sapt, whom I now saw about twenty yards ahead. I waved my hand in farewell, and dropped it a second later with a yell, for a bullet had grazed my finger and I felt the blood. Old Sapt turned round in the saddle. Someone fired again, but they had no rifles, and we were out of range. Sapt fell to laughing.
"That's one to me and two to you, with decent luck," said he. "Little Josef will have company."
"Ay, they'll be a _partie carree_," said I. My blood was up, and I rejoiced to have killed them.
"Well, a pleasant night's work to the rest!" said he. "I wonder if they noticed you?"
"The big fellow did; as I stuck him I heard him cry, 'The King!'"
"Good! good! Oh, we'll give Black Michael some work before we've done!"
Pausing an instant, we made a bandage for my wounded finger, which was bleeding freely and ached severely, the bone being much bruised. Then we rode on, asking of our good horses all that was in them. The excitement of the fight and of our great resolve died away, and we rode in gloomy silence. Day broke clear and cold. We found a farmer just up, and made him give us sustenance for ourselves and our horses. I, feigning a toothache, muffled my face closely. Then ahead again, till Strelsau lay before us. It was eight o'clock or nearing nine, and the gates were all open, as they always were save when the duke's caprice or intrigues shut them. We rode in by the same way as we had come out the evening before, all four of us-the men and the horses-wearied and jaded. The streets were even quieter than when we had gone: everyone was sleeping off last night's revelry, and we met hardly a soul till we reached the little gate of the Palace. There Sapt's old groom was waiting for us.
"Is all well, sir?" he asked.
"All's well," said Sapt, and the man, coming to me, took my hand to kiss.
"The King's hurt!" he cried.
"It's nothing," said I, as I dismounted; "I caught my finger in the door."
"Remember-silence!" said Sapt. "Ah! but, my good Freyler, I do not need to tell you that!"
The old fellow shrugged his shoulders.
"All young men like to ride abroad now and again, why not the King?"
said he; and Sapt's laugh left his opinion of my motives undisturbed.
"You should always trust a man," observed Sapt, fitting the key in the lock, "just as far as you must."
We went in and reached the dressing-room. Flinging open the door, we saw Fritz von Tarlenheim stretched, fully dressed, on the sofa. He seemed to have been sleeping, but our entry woke him. He leapt to his feet, gave one glance at me, and with a joyful cry, threw himself on his knees before me.
"Thank God, sire! thank God, you're safe!" he cried, stretching his hand up to catch hold of mine.
I confess that I was moved. This King, whatever his faults, made people love him. For a moment I could not bear to speak or break the poor fellow's illusion. But tough old Sapt had no such feeling. He slapped his hand on his thigh delightedly.
"Bravo, lad!" cried he. "We shall do!"
Fritz looked up in bewilderment. I held out my hand.
"You're wounded, sire!" he exclaimed.
"It's only a scratch," said I, "but-" I paused.
He rose to his feet with a bewildered air. Holding my hand, he looked me up and down, and down and up. Then suddenly he dropped my hand and reeled back.
"Where's the King? Where's the King?" he cried.
"Hush, you fool!" hissed Sapt. "Not so loud! Here's the King!"
A knock sounded on the door. Sapt seized me by the hand.
"Here, quick, to the bedroom! Off with your cap and boots. Get into bed.
Cover everything up."
I did as I was bid. A moment later Sapt looked in, nodded, grinned, and introduced an extremely smart and deferential young gentleman, who came up to my bedside, bowing again and again, and informed m
e that he was of the household of the Princess Flavia, and that her Royal Highness had sent him especially to enquire how the King's health was after the fatigues which his Majesty had undergone yesterday.
"My best thanks, sir, to my cousin," said I; "and tell her Royal Highness that I was never better in my life."
"The King," added old Sapt (who, I began to find, loved a good lie for its own sake), "has slept without a break all night."
The young gentleman (he reminded me of "Osric" in Hamlet) bowed himself out again. The farce was over, and Fritz von Tarlenheim's pale face recalled us to reality-though, in faith, the farce had to be reality for us now.
"Is the King dead?" he whispered.
"Please God, no," said I. "But he's in the hands of Black Michael!"
Chapter 8
A Fair Cousin and a Dark Brother
A real king's life is perhaps a hard one; but a pretended king's is, I warrant, much harder. On the next day, Sapt instructed me in my duties-what I ought to do and what I ought to know-for three hours; then I snatched breakfast, with Sapt still opposite me, telling me that the King always took white wine in the morning and was known to detest all highly seasoned dishes. Then came the Chancellor, for another three hours; and to him I had to explain that the hurt to my finger (we turned that bullet to happy account) prevented me from writing-whence arose great to-do, hunting of precedents and so forth, ending in my "making my mark," and the Chancellor attesting it with a superfluity of solemn oaths. Then the French ambassador was introduced, to present his credentials; here my ignorance was of no importance, as the King would have been equally raw to the business (we worked through the whole _corps diplomatique_ in the next few days, a demise of the Crown necessitating all this bother).
Then, at last, I was left alone. I called my new servant (we had chosen, to succeed poor Josef, a young man who had never known the King), had a brandy-and-soda brought to me, and observed to Sapt that I trusted that I might now have a rest. Fritz von Tarlenheim was standing by.
"By heaven!" he cried, "we waste time. Aren't we going to throw Black Michael by the heels?"
"Gently, my son, gently," said Sapt, knitting his brows. "It would be a pleasure, but it might cost us dear. Would Michael fall and leave the King alive?"