by Simon Hawke
“In a word, yes,” said Sapt. “What the devil’s wrong with you, Fritz? This is no time for delicacy.” He looked back at Finn. “Rudolf pays about as much attention to her as he does to his saddle. It’s there, it belongs to him, he’ll use it when he needs it and when not, someone will care for it and relieve him of the bother.”
“The man’s a damn fool,” said Finn.
“See here, now, Rassendyll,” said Fritz.
“Be quiet, Fritz,” said Sapt. “Rudolf’s right. The king’s a damn fool. Flavia would make any man a fine and loyal wife. She’s intelligent, well-mannered, considerate to a fault and beautiful, as well. What man could ask for more? Rudolf treats her little better than he does his servants. He’s a damn fool, all right, but he’s our damn fool, worse luck, and we must stand by him. But, by God, I’ll not condone the way he treats her!”
“The people like her a great deal, I assume,” said Finn.
“Like her?” Fritz said. “I should say they like her. She is their darling.”
“Then perhaps we should take steps to make her Rudolf Elphberg’s darling, as well,” said Finn.
“Now just a moment, Rassendyll,” said Fritz, anxiously. “Just what are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting that if the king were to conspicuously court his future wife, the people might look upon him with more favor. Perhaps having been crowned, the full import of his position has, shall we say, matured him somewhat? Made him take himself, and others, a bit more seriously, as befits a king?”
“Now just one moment!” Fritz said, genuinely alarmed now. “You’re not seriously proposing to make love to Princess Flavia?”
“Why not?” said Finn.
Sapt pursed his lips and nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “Why not?”
“Sapt!”
“Shut up, Fritz. It’s an excellent idea.”
“Look,” said Finn, “at the risk of seeming crude, I’m not proposing to hop into bed with her-”
“My God!” said Fritz.
“Fritz, if you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll clout you one, so help me!” Sapt said.
“I merely wish to point out,” Finn continued, “that it would do no harm to court her. In fact, if the king were suddenly to turn over a new leaf and be more solicitous of her, as well as of his subjects, the people might experience a change of heart toward him. Anything that would strengthen his position would serve as well to weaken that of Black Michael.”
“By Heaven, I wish I’d had you in my regiment,” said Sapt. “What a second-in-command you would have been! You have a positively brilliant mind for strategy!”
“Strategy?” said Fritz, looking from one to the other of them desperately. “Gentlemen! Please! For the love of Heaven, we’re not discussing some military campaign here! We’re talking about a woman! Not just any woman, but the Princess Flavia! I will not stand idly by to see her affections toyed with!”
“What would you rather I do, Fritz,” Finn said, “treat her like dirt, as Rudolf did? She seemed like a very nice woman to me. Far too nice to be treated like a saddle, as Sapt here put it.”
“No, certainly, I would not wish that-”
“What, then?”
“Well. Well, I… Well, that is, I…”
Sapt grinned. “He has you there, Fritz.”
Von Tarlenheim bit his lower lip.
“Fear not, Fritz,” Finn said. “I give you my solemn word of honor as an Englishman and a gentleman, as well as a former officer in the service of Her Royal Majesty, the Queen Victoria, that my conduct toward the Princess Flavia will be nothing less than honorable with the observation of all the usual proprieties. So there. You have my word of honor. If it will not serve, then sir, I must perforce offer you my glove.”
Von Tarlenheim instantly stiffened to a position of attention, every inch the gentleman and cavalier. “With my utmost respect, Mr. Rassendyll, that will not be necessary. The word of an English officer and gentleman is certainly good enough for Fritz von Tarlenheim and I will not have it said otherwise. If anything that I have said led you to believe that I have in any way impugned your honor, sir, I humbly tender my apologies and hasten to assure you that nothing can be further from the truth.”
“No apologies are necessary, my friend, as no offense was taken,” Finn said. He stood up and offered von Tarlenheim his hand. “I appreciate your concern and regard you well because of it. Let us say no more. We understand each other.”
They shook hands.
“Now,” said Finn, “let’s get down to business, shall we? When I agreed to undertake this masquerade for you, I had no idea that it would ever go this far. Needless to say, neither had you, but that is not the point. The point is that we now find ourselves in a devil of a mess. If we are to get through it alive, much less with any hope of rescuing your king, I am going to require a great deal of help from you.”
“That goes without saying,” said von Tarlenheim. “We owe you everything. Without you, the king would surely have been dead by now.”
“And he may well be, for all we know,” said Sapt, gloomily.
“No, the king still lives,” said Fritz.
Sapt looked at him sharply. “How do you know?”
“Because when Michael arrived in Strelsau this morning, he brought only three of the Six with him,” Fritz said. “Which can only mean that the remaining three have been left behind in Zenda to guard the king. There would be no need of their having been left behind to guard a dead man.”
“Then there is still hope,” said Sapt. “Michael hasn’t lost his head. I was afraid he might. He’s realized his position. The question is, has he found a way to extricate himself from it?”
“There is only one way he can extricate himself from his position that I can think of,” Finn said, “and that would be to kill me.”
Sapt nodded wordlessly.
Von Tarlenheim licked his lips nervously. “I can think of one choice open to us.” He swallowed hard. “We could kill Black Michael.”
“If you could get past his bodyguards,” said Finn. “Besides, killing him would not guarantee the king’s safety. If you did that, the Six would have no one left to give them orders or to pay them, true, but why should they allow you to get off the hook? If we are to assume that they are professionals, gentlemen, we must also assume they would realize that with Michael dead, they would have no protection. The moment that they learned of Michael’s death, they would kill the king and flee or, better yet, if they were smart, they would flee with the king as hostage. Then, the moment they were safely beyond your reach, they would kill the king and disperse, each to his own fate.” Finn shook his head. “No, your best chance to keep the king alive is to keep Michael alive. His removal would throw them into disarray, but not for very long.”
Sapt stared at Finn with growing interest. For a moment, Finn had a crazy feeling that the old soldier had actually figured it all out, though of course, that was impossible.
“What are we to do, then?” said von Tarlenheim, helplessly.
“It appears to me that there is only one thing that we can do,” Finn said. “We cannot hope to attack the castle in force. Even if there were some way we could get the entire army to support us-and how would we do that without tipping our hand? — Michael could easily kill the king. Where would be your proof? By the time you could take the castle, Michael would have had an opportunity to destroy Rudolf’s remains a dozen times over.”
“Lord, Rassendyll,” said Fritz.
“Listen to him, Fritz,” said Sapt, watching him intently. “This is a grim business we’re about and we can spare no time to phrase matters delicately.”
“We cannot hope to prevail upon Michael to release the king,” said Finn. “He has everything to lose by doing so and nothing at all to gain. There is no pressure we could bring to bear upon him that would be great enough to bend him to our will. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” said Sapt.
“What does that leave us, then?” said
Fritz. “What if we tried to bribe the Six? We could pay them more than Michael pays them and induce them to change sides.”
“That would be unwise,” said Sapt. “One can never trust a mercenary. They have only their own gain to care for. They could burn the candle at both ends.”
“What’s to be done, then?” said von Tarlenheim.
“We have only one choice left open to us,” Finn said. “We must take Zenda Castle by ourselves.”
“You’re mad,” said Fritz von Tarlenheim. “It would be impossible. Besides, you only just finished telling us that Michael could kill the king if any such attack took place.”
“If it were an open attack, yes,” said Finn, “but not if it were accomplished by stealth.”
“But how?” said Fritz.
“There has to be a way,” said Finn. “Sapt, you strike me as the sort of man who would inspire great loyalty amongst his troops. Are there any such who once served under you that you could count on?”
“I can think of a few,” said Sapt, “senior officers now in Strakencz’s regiment and some who have retired from the service. They are not taken in by His Lordship, the Duke of Strelsau. They remember him all too well as a young officer. Still, they are only a handful, and how can we enlist their aid without telling them the truth?”
“Perhaps we will not have to tell them the truth,” said Finn. “Or we can tell them the truth and bend it slightly.”
“What do you mean?” said Fritz.
“Well, there is a prisoner in Zenda Castle,” Finn said. “Do we have to tell them it’s the king?”
“Go on,” said Sapt, intrigued.
“Suppose we had a potential international incident upon our hands,” said Finn. “Suppose some very influential foreign gentleman, a friend of the king’s, had run afoul of Michael somehow-we needn’t say how-and Michael had imprisoned him in Zenda Castle in order to teach him a lesson? He is, after all, the Duke of Strelsau and holder of the estates and lands of Zenda. He could easily charge someone with a crime and execute the punishment.”
“True,” said Sapt. “He has that authority.”
“Well then, let us assume that the king has been made aware of this, say that the ambassador of the nation that this imaginary gentleman is from has secretly approached the king and asked him to intervene on this gentleman’s behalf. All very behind the scenes, to avoid an unpleasant incident involving governments, and so forth. Our imaginary gentleman is a very important man. The king, also secretly, remonstrates with Michael to release the man in order to avoid political repercussions. Michael is intransigent. You can see how this would pose a serious problem. Moving against Michael openly as his first official act would be a bad decision for the king. It would reopen wounds that are still all too fresh in Ruritania. Michael, of course, would realize this. That would be his advantage in the situation. So, in order to avoid political unpleasantness, the king intends to continue bargaining with Michael. However, should all his appeals fall upon deaf ears, he is prepared to move, in secret, against Zenda Castle in order to rescue this imprisoned gentleman. Afterwards, of course, he can claim total ignorance of the affair and insist that it all must have been done by foreign nationals, lodge a strenuous protest with the ambassador concerned, which imaginary ambassador will of course take it no further and the entire affair will be brought to a close. That is how you will present it to your men, Sapt. They are to stand by, prepared to move at a moment’s notice in this most secret mission, to rescue this imaginary gentleman from Zenda Castle in case all negotiations fail.”
“By God, Rassendyll,” said Sapt, “you astonish me! The plan is positively brilliant! Still, it has serious flaws. I cannot muster enough men to take the castle. And even if they could, how would we protect the king?”
“That is where I come in,” said Finn. “I will have to swim the moat and find a way to get inside by stealth. I will have to find out where the king is being held, then lower the drawbridge for you so that your attack can be made by surprise. If you can gain access to the castle, you will not need a lot of men. You will storm through the chateau on horseback and in the ensuing confusion, I will make my way next to the king and guard him with my life.”
“But how can you hope to accomplish that alone?” said Fritz.
“One man, alone, might penetrate the castle and escape detection,” Finn said. “If we attack at night, we may have a chance. But you will need to move with all possible speed once the drawbridge has been lowered. Our only advantage is in surprise.”
“It just might work,” said Fritz, “though the plan is insanity itself. You would be taking a tremendous risk. The odds are almost certain that you would be killed.”
“The odds are certain that I will be killed if we do not make the attempt,” said Finn. “In fact, if we do not, we are all dead men. You cannot watch over me indefinitely. If a man is a target for assassins, then he will surely die eventually. Sooner or later, Michael’s mercenaries will have me and once I am out of the way, Michael can contrive to stage Rudolf’s death in some manner that would not implicate him and that would serve him at the same time, just as you told me earlier, Sapt. With Michael in power, you can be sure that your lives would not mean a thing. In the event that I should disappear before the king is freed, my friends, I can only urge you to do likewise. Michael would waste no time in having you two murdered once I was disposed of.”
“In the event that Michael has you killed,” Sapt said grimly, “then he signs his own death warrant, come what may. Rest assured that you shall be avenged. On that, you have my word of honor and I care not what the cost.”
Finn felt a strange tightness in his chest. He and Sapt had known each other for scarcely three days, yet he knew-as did Sapt-that there had formed a strong bond between them. Physically, Sapt was older by a good many years, having never had the benefit of antiaging drugs that could extend his lifespan. Biologically, Finn had lived longer than Sapt had. The worlds that each existed in were separated by over seven hundred years. Yet, they were the same. Both cut from the same cloth. Both subscribers to a code of ethics that neither of them could have stated, yet each understood on some subliminal level that came not from the intellect, but from somewhere in the gut. Buddhists believed that that was the center of one’s being and perhaps, Finn thought, they knew something that no else did. Or, that all men knew, but few remembered.
“There is one thing more,” said Fritz, oblivious of the electric interplay that had just taken place in some fraction of a second between the two other men, a spark that had made them lock gazes quickly and then, just as quickly, look away, like guilty lovers. “The marriage between the king and Princess Flavia was to have taken place after the coronation. Each day it is postponed brings more disfavor on the king. It will be interpreted as an insult to the princess that the king would make her wait upon his bidding until such time as he is pleased to wed her. There, Michael has us. That we have dared allow an imposter to be crowned is bad enough. For that, Lord help us, our souls will have to answer on the Day of Judgement. But to allow the princess to enter into holy wedlock with that same imposter would be unthinkable. Whatever it is we are to do, we must do it soon, else all is lost.”
“All the more reason for me to court ‘my’ future wife,” said Finn. “It will buy us time. I would imagine that the court at Strelsau is not all that much different from the English court in one respect at least. Both surely have their gossip-mongers. With a word in the right ear or two, it can quickly go about that the king, having experienced some profound awakening-perhaps in the midst of all the holy solemnity of the coronation ceremony-has also realized or, let’s say, has had forcibly driven home to him the sudden knowledge that he is about to wed a woman whom he has never taken the trouble to know. At least, on the level of a husband-to-be. If he postpones the marriage in order that he might romance the princess, court her favor rather than simply take her as his due, wouldn’t that be regarded as romantic gallantry or some such thing? Would
it not make Rudolf seem-well-somehow more human?”
Sapt smiled and shook his head. “You English!” he said. “You and your romantic poets and drawingroom novelists! Flavia has known Rudolf all her life and he has never regarded her as anything more than part of the palace furniture. Why should she believe in such a sudden change in him?”
Finn raised his eyebrows. “Why? Well, perhaps she won’t. But I’ll tell you a secret about women, Sapt. It has to do with what women know about men, but what men themselves do not know about each other. Women know that men are creatures of emotion. Whereas we ascribe that attribute to them, the fact is that a woman understands her emotions far better than a man does. We men are the ones who are entirely creatures of the heart. We accuse women of it like guilty little boys pointing fingers at their playmates in order to spare themselves responsibility. The truth is that women understand us better than we understand ourselves. If we are foolish or inconsistent, they are not surprised. They expect it of us.”
Sapt made an incredulous face. “I never heard such addle-brained nonsense in my life!”
“Then you, Sapt, will never understand a woman.”
“I think it’s worth a try,” said Fritz. “What have we got to lose?”
Sapt looked at him with astonishment. “You think it’s worth a try? A moment ago, you were outraged at the very idea!”
Finn chuckled. “You see?” he said.
Von Tarlenheim flushed deeply and began to stammer a reply when there came a knock at the doors and the chancellor entered with a letter for the king. Finn thanked him and dismissed him, then opened the letter.
“What is it?” Sapt said.
Finn read 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 in 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.”