The Outlaws of Falkensteig

by Rafael Sabatini

  We stood in a well-furnished room, lighted by a half score of tapers in silver sconces, and warmed by a great blazing fire that cheered me vastly—for I had found my priestly garments passing cold. A tall, well-favoured man with all the bearing of a soldier came forward to meet us, and bowing to my companion he informed her that he was Ritter von Gevenich, Governor of the fortress; and although prepared for our visit, he scanned the warrant none the less attentively, then touched a hand-bell that stood upon the table.

  "Send Bauer to me,” he said to the soldier who answered the summons.

  When the fellow was gone he spoke a few words with the Lady Stephanie, whose pallor and visible trembling he no doubt set down to the grief ‘neath which she laboured at the sad predicament of her lover. I began to tell my beads, hoping that seeing me thus profitably occupied, he would refrain from impiously breaking in upon my devotions. But he had no such seemly scruples.

  "I am sore afraid, Father,” he said, “that you may find Master Felsheim's mood none too penitent."

  Calmly I pursued my mumbling, with downcast eyes as if finishing the Ave upon which I was then engaged, and during the respite thus gained I weighed my answer. Looking up slowly:

  "You said, my son?” I inquired in a voice so mild that I hardly knew it for my own.

  "That I fear you will find Master Felsheim none too penitent for his numerous sins."

  "Alas,” I sighed. “I can but pray that the Grace of Heaven may melt his heart into pious sorrow, and thus prepare him fitly for his approaching end."

  At that moment there came a knock and there followed the announcement that Bauer was without. He was a tall knave of forbidding aspect bearing the keys, which announced his calling, at his girdle.

  "You will conduct this lady and this reverend priest to Felsheim's cell,” said Gevenich. “The lady is to remain five minutes, and the priest—who will visit the outlaw after her—a quarter of an hour. In both cases you will wait without. You will also re-conduct them to their carriage when the visit is at an end. I shall retire forthwith."

  The Governor's words removed a fear by which I had been beset—a fear lest he should seek to learn how the shriving of Felsheim had fared. I breathed freely once more, and in the wake of the turnkey, and with the Lady Stephanie by my side, I went along one corridor then another; down steps and up steps, and down again, until at length we reached a small oaken door decked with great iron studs, by which a man at arms stood sentinel. Into the lock Bauer thrust a heavy key, and turning it with a clatter, he opened and signed to the Lady Stephanie to enter.

  Then followed a brief spell of waiting. Bauer said something to me, but I was busy with my beads again, and merely bowed my head. I was determined that neither he nor the soldier should hear my voice. At last Stephanie came forth, sobbing, and with bent head and folded hands I went forward into the cell, closing the door behind me.

  Stephanie and I had decided that the better to test the impenetrability of my disguise, for what might follow, she should not disclose to Felsheim the identity of the monk she told him she had brought. The cell was bare save for a pallet in the corner, a chair and a table upon which stood a lanthorn and an open book.

  Felsheim received me with a bow, and thanked me for the comfort whereof I was the bearer—and of which he little guessed the extent just then. He looked paler than usual, but otherwise his handsome face was as calm and lofty as ever in its expression, whilst his lithe figure was erect and showed no sign of weakness. I crossed to the chair, my cowl thrown back so that the light might fall full upon my face as I sat down, and albeit his dark eyes were bent upon me, they were lighted by no ray of recognition.

  In obedience to my sign he knelt beside me, nor did he recognise my voice as in a half whisper I bade him recite the Confiteor after me.

  "Confiteor Deo Omnipotente,” I began, then, suddenly resuming my natural accents, “the Devil take you, Felsheim, for a dull-witted knave,” I added.

  In an instant he was upon his feet with a low cry of surprise, and staring at me awhile in wonder and amazement. At last:

  "Gessler!” he gasped, yet mastering his emotion sufficiently to utter it in a whisper—and a soft laugh escaped him.

  But every moment was of endless value, and in a quick, feverish whisper I told him of my plan. At first he would not hear of it, in virtue of the risk I ran, whereupon I grew angry at the waste of time, and urged with emphasis that slight was my risk indeed; then, as he still wavered, I spoke of her who awaited him, and his resistance was overcome.

  So, swiftly I went to work and clipped away his beard and mustachios, albeit his hair there was no time to meddle with.

  He wore a broad, blue sash of silk over his doublet, as was then the fashion—one of those sashes that are wound about a man, and measure some four or five yards in length. Upon this sash I had counted. At my direction he removed it, and thereafter also his doublet and ruffles, whilst I divested myself of my habit, and stood before him in nought but my shirt and breeches of wool and my sandals, which scant garments—coupled with my hairless head and bare legs—gave me a wondrous air of nakedness. Then he took up his sash at my bidding, and with one end of it he tied my ankles together, then winding it twice round me, he pinioned my hands behind me with the other end and laid me on the bed, helpless as a trussed fowl.

  Next he took up my Capuchin habit, and having arrayed himself in it, he drew the cowl over his head far enough to mask his face from his nose upwards, yet leaving his shorn chin and upper lip disclosed. When he had made fast the girdle, and our change was completed, he came over to the bed, and bending towards me:

  "How can I ever thank you, my faithful friend?” he murmured. “Herrgott! If evil should befall you—"

  "None will,” I answered, “and as for thanking me, wait till we meet at Turgen. You had best go. Take the lanthorn and the book, and bid them leave Felsheim to his devotions. They have not heard my voice, so that you need no fear of speaking to them, if you but dissemble your own. There is a bag in the coach containing a hundred crowns, which you will need."

  "But you? You will need money also."

  "I have thought of that. There are a hundred crowns in the belt I am wearing beneath this shirt. Good luck, Felsheim. Now gag me and go.” He bound a kerchief firmly about my mouth, then with a muttered farewell, he rose and taking the lanthorn and the book from the table, he opened the door and passed out, pulling it after him with a clatter. In a nasal voice which I guessed was Felsheim's rather than recognised as his, came the words:

  "The wretched man is at his prayers. I have brought away the light and the book, leaving him in darkness so that naught may distract him from communion with his God."

  There was a guttural answer, then the key was turned, and there followed the sound of retreating footsteps. A closing door rattled in the distance, then all was peace, save for the tramp of the man at arms outside my door, and the tumultuous thumping within my breast.

  At last, when about a quarter of an hour had elapsed and naught occurred, I was able to breathe freely again in the conviction that they had made good their escape.

  Then came a long period of waiting in a position of passing discomfort, until at length midnight boomed out from the belfry above. Felsheim had a start of two hours, and more I dared not give him. So I made shift to free my jaws as best I might, and when this was done I set up a lusty bellowing for help.

  The tramp of the soldier came to a halt outside my door, whereupon I redoubled my cries, and presently I had the satisfaction of hearing his footsteps rapidly retreat, thereby conjecturing that, alarmed, he was gone to summon the Governor. Nor was I mistaken. For presently I caught the sound of voices and the quick patter of hurrying feet. Then the key grated again in the lock; the door was thrown wide, and into my cell rushed Bauer with a lanthorn; the Governor—half-dressed—came hard upon his heels.

  Seeing me lying there, a curious half-naked figure, bound hand and foot, and still half gagged, Gevenich swore a great oat
h.

  "Herr Gott Donnerwetter! ‘Tis the priest! But Felsheim—"

  He stopped abruptly, and looked round him in bewilderment, as if he yet expected to find the outlaw in some cranny. Then the full realisation burst upon him. “My god! He has escaped,” he cried. “I see it all! That woman has be-fooled us and got him away in this Capuchin's garments. Fool!” he blazed out, turning upon Bauer in a fine rage. “Whom did you reconduct to the coach?"

  "Why the lady and the monk, freilich!"

  "The monk, booby! Do you not understand? The monk was none other than Felsheim. And you, Sir Priest,” he cried turning upon me as I lay there, enchanted by the swiftness with which the Governor's mind grasped the situation. “Speak! Let us learn how this cursed business came to pass."

  When, in obedience to my request, they had cut my bonds, and I had stood up with a groan and a fair show of suffering, I told him how upon entering, the impious and ungrateful bandit, whose soul I came to rescue from the Hell that gaped for it, had caught me by the throat in a grip so tight as to stifle my utterance, and thus had held me until for very want of breath I fainted, deeming myself dead already.

  When—by a miracle—I recovered consciousness, I found myself in the sorry plight from which he had rescued me. More I knew not, but I added a hope that perchance it was not long since this took place, and that the graceless robber might yet be taken and hanged.

  "Not long,” cried the Governor. “Why, ‘tis two hours since he left the prison, and in two hours he will be well on his way—moreover, we know not what road he has taken. Beim Hölle, I know not, nor does it please me to think what His Majesty will say when he hears of it. Methinks the Schloss Goedelt will have a new Governor hereafter. Come, Sir Priest, we must inform the King at once. Despite the lateness of the hour you shall accompany me to the Palace and there tell your miserable tale. Come, sir."

  And thus it fell out that with a cloak thrown about me to hide the scantiness of my attire, I stood half an hour later in the chamber of King Ludwig—who was abed—and to him I repeated the story that I had told Gevenich. His wrath was right kingly, and his oaths most royal in their fervour and awfulness. Poor Gevenich he roundly cursed as a fool unfit for trust, and a moment came, when, in the fury of his frenzy, methought he would have flung himself upon the luckless Governor. He controlled himself, however, and when he had done with Gevenich, he turned once more to me.

  "Out of my sight, Sir Monk!” he thundered. “The sight of you makes me sick. Get you back to your monastery, and there clothe yourself in garments more befitting the dignity of your calling."

  I needed no second dismissal, and a few seconds later saw me driving from the palace in a coach, wherewith the King had bidden me to be supplied.

  Once without the gates of Schwerlingen, I surprised the driver by levelling a pistol at his head, and desiring him to take the road to Fortstadt, and to drive as if the fiend himself came hot-foot behind us.

  Fortstadt I reached without mishap, and there contrived to get a suit of cavalier clothes and—fortunately—a wig.

  A week later I came up with Felsheim and the Lady Stephanie at Turgen, finding them already joined in wedlock. Together we journeyed into Austria, leaving peril and our lawless life behind us, and there we were warmly welcomed by Duke Leopold, who kept his promise.

  THE END

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