CHAPTER VII. THE MESSAGE OF SIMON THE HUNTSMAN
I RECEIVED the telegram sent to me by the Constable of Zenda at
my own house in Strelsau about one o'clock. It is needless to say
that I made immediate preparations to obey his summons. My wife
indeed protested--and I must admit with some show of reason--that
I was unfit to endure further fatigues, and that my bed was the
only proper place for me. I could not listen; and James, Mr.
Rassendyll's servant, being informed of the summons, was at my
elbow with a card of the trains from Strelsau to Zenda, without
waiting for any order from me. I had talked to this man in the
course of our journey, and discovered that he had been in the
service of Lord Topham, formerly British Ambassador to the Court
of Ruritania. How far he was acquainted with the secrets of his
present master, I did not know, but his familiarity with the city
and the country made him of great use to me. We discovered, to
our annoyance, that no train left till four o'clock, and then
only a slow one; the result was that we could not arrive at the
castle till past six o'clock. This hour was not absolutely too
late, but I was of course eager to be on the scene of action as
early as possible.
"You'd better see if you can get a special, my lord," James
suggested; "I'll run on to the station and arrange about it."
I agreed. Since I was known to be often employed in the king's
service, I could take a special train without exciting remark.
James set out, and about a quarter of an hour later I got into my
carriage to drive to the station. Just as the horses were about
to start, however, the butler approached me.
"I beg your pardon, my lord," said he, "but Bauer didn't return
with your lordship. Is he coming back?"
"No," said I. "Bauer was grossly impertinent on the journey, and
I dismissed him."
"Those foreign men are never to be trusted, my lord. And your
lordship's bag?"
"What, hasn't it come?" I cried. "I told him to send it."
"It's not arrived, my lord."
"Can the rogue have stolen it?" I exclaimed indignantly.
"If your lordship wishes it, I will mention the matter to the
police."
I appeared to consider this proposal.
"Wait till I come back," I ended by saying. "The bag may come,
and I have no reason to doubt the fellow's honesty."
This, I thought, would be the end of my connection with Master
Bauer. He had served Rupert's turn, and would now disappear from
the scene. Indeed it may be that Rupert would have liked to
dispense with further aid from him; but he had few whom he could
trust, and was compelled to employ those few more than once. At
any rate he had not done with Bauer, and I very soon received
proof of the fact. My house is a couple of miles from the
station, and we have to pass through a considerable part of the
old town, where the streets are narrow and tortuous and progress
necessarily slow. We had just entered the Konigstrasse (and it
must be remembered that I had at that time no reason for
attaching any special significance to this locality), and were
waiting impatiently for a heavy dray to move out of our path,
when my coachman, who had overheard the butler's conversation
with me, leant down from his box with an air of lively
excitement.
"My lord," he cried, "there's Bauer--there, passing the butcher's
shop!"
I sprang up in the carriage; the man's back was towards me, and
he was threading his way through the people with a quick,
stealthy tread. I believe he must have seen me, and was slinking
away as fast as he could. I was not sure of him, but the coachman
banished my doubt by saying, "It's Bauer--it's certainly Bauer,
my lord."
I hardly stayed to form a resolution. If I could catch this
fellow or even see where he went, a most important clue as to
Rupert's doings and whereabouts might be put into my hand. I
leapt out of the carriage, bidding the man wait, and at once
started in pursuit of my former servant. I heard the coachman
laugh: he thought, no doubt, that anxiety for the missing bag
inspired such eager haste.
The numbers of the houses in the Konigstrasse begin, as anybody
familiar with Strelsau will remember, at the end adjoining the
station. The street being a long one, intersecting almost the
entire length of the old town, I was, when I set out after Bauer,
opposite number 300 or thereabouts, and distant nearly
three-quarters of a mile from that important number nineteen,
towards which Bauer was hurrying like a rabbit to its burrow. I
knew nothing and thought nothing of where he was going; to me
nineteen was no more than eighteen or twenty; my only desire was
to overtake him. I had no clear idea of what I meant to do when I
caught him, but I had some hazy notion of intimidating him into
giving up his secret by the threat of an accusation of theft. In
fact, he had stolen my bag. After him I went; and he knew that I
was after him. I saw him turn his face over his shoulder, and
then bustle on faster. Neither of us, pursued or pursuer, dared
quite to run; as it was, our eager strides and our carelessness
of collisions created more than enough attention. But I had one
advantage. Most folk in Strelsau knew me, and many got out of my
way who were by no means inclined to pay a like civility to
Bauer. Thus I began to gain on him, in spite of his haste; I had
started fifty yards behind, but as we neared the end of the
street and saw the station ahead of us, not more than twenty
separated me from him. Then an annoying thing happened. I ran
full into a stout old gentleman; Bauer had run into him before,
and he was standing, as people will, staring in resentful
astonishment at his first assailant's retreating figure. The
second collision immensely increased his vexation; for me it had
yet worse consequences; for when I disentangled myself, Bauer was
gone! There was not a sign of him; I looked up: the number of the
house above me was twenty-three; but the door was shut. I walked
on a few paces, past twenty-two, past twenty-one--and up to
nineteen. Nineteen was an old house, with a dirty, dilapidated
front and an air almost dissipated. It was a shop where
provisions of the cheaper sort were on view in the window, things
that one has never eaten but has heard of people eating. The
shop-door stood open, but there was nothing to connect Bauer with
the house. Muttering an oath in my exasperation, I was about to
pass on, when an old woman put her head out of the door and
looked round. I was full in front of her. I am sure that the old
woman started slightly, and I think that I did. For I knew her
and she knew me. She was old Mother Holf, one of whose sons,
Johann, had betrayed to us the secret of the dungeon at Zenda,
while the other had died by Mr. Rassendyll's hand by the side of
the great pipe that masked the king's window. Her presence might
mean nothing, yet it seemed at once to connect the house with the
secret of the past and the crisis of the present.
She recovered herself in a moment, and curtseyed to me.
"Ah, Mother Holf," said I, "how long is it since you set up shop
in Strelsau?"
"About six months, my lord," she answered, with a composed air
and arms akimbo.
"I have not come across you before," said I, looking keenly at
her.
"Such a poor little shop as mine would not be likely to secure
your lordship's patronage," she answered, in a humility that
seemed only half genuine.
I looked up at the windows. They were all closed and had their
wooden lattices shut. The house was devoid of any signs of life.
"You've a good house here, mother, though it wants a splash of
paint," said I. "Do you live all alone in it with your daughter?"
For Max was dead and Johann abroad, and the old woman had, as far
as I knew, no other children.
"Sometimes; sometimes not," said she. "I let lodgings to single
men when I can."
"Full now?"
"Not a soul, worse luck, my lord." Then I shot an arrow at a
venture.
"The man who came in just now, then, was he only a customer?"
"I wish a customer had come in, but there has been nobody," she
replied in surprised tones.
I looked full in her eyes; she met mine with a blinking
imperturbability. There is no face so inscrutable as a clever old
woman's when she is on her guard. And her fat body barred the
entrance; I could not so much as see inside, while the window,
choked full with pigs' trotters and such-like dainties, helped me
very little. If the fox were there, he had got to earth and I
could not dig him out.
At this moment I saw James approaching hurriedly. He was looking
up the street, no doubt seeking my carriage and chafing at its
delay. An instant later he saw me.
"My lord," he said, "your train will be ready in five minutes; if
it doesn't start then, the line must be closed for another
half-hour."
I perceived a faint smile on the old woman's face. I was sure
then that I was on the track of Bauer, and probably of more than
Bauer. But my first duty was to obey orders and get to Zenda.
Besides, I could not force my way in, there in open daylight,
without a scandal that would have set all the long ears in
Strelsau aprick. I turned away reluctantly. I did not even know
for certain that Bauer was within, and thus had no information of
value to carry with me.
"If your lordship would kindly recommend me--" said the old hag.
"Yes, I'll recommend you," said I. "I'll recommend you to be
careful whom you take for lodgers. There are queer fish about,
mother."
"I take the money beforehand," she retorted with a grin; and I
was as sure that she was in the plot as of my own existence.
There was nothing to be done; James's face urged me towards the
station. I turned away. But at this instant a loud, merry laugh
sounded from inside the house. I started, and this time
violently. The old woman's brow contracted in a frown, and her
lips twitched for a moment; then her face regained its composure;
but I knew the laugh, and she must have guessed that I knew it.
Instantly I tried to appear as though I had noticed nothing. I
nodded to her carelessly, and bidding James follow me, set out
for the station. But as we reached the platform, I laid my hand
on his shoulder, saying:
"The Count of Hentzau is in that house, James."
He looked at me without surprise; he was as hard to stir to
wonder as old Sapt himself.
"Indeed, sir. Shall I stay and watch?"
"No, come with me," I answered. To tell the truth, I thought that
to leave him alone in Strelsau to watch that house was in all
likelihood to sign his death warrant, and I shrank from imposing
the duty on him. Rudolf might send him if he would; I dared not.
So we got into our train, and I suppose that my coachman, when he
had looked long enough for me, went home. I forgot to ask him
afterwards. Very likely he thought it a fine joke to see his
master hunting a truant servant and a truant bag through the
streets in broad daylight. Had he known the truth, he would have
been as interested, though, maybe, less amused.
I arrived at the town of Zenda at half-past three, and was in the
castle before four. I may pass over the most kind and gracious
words with which the queen received me. Every sight of her face
and every sound of her voice bound a man closer to her service,
and now she made me feel that I was a poor fellow to have lost
her letter and yet to be alive. But she would hear nothing of
such talk, choosing rather to praise the little I had done than
to blame the great thing in which I had failed. Dismissed from
her presence, I flew open-mouthed to Sapt. I found him in his
room with Bernenstein, and had the satisfaction of learning that
my news of Rupert's whereabouts was confirmed by his information.
I was also made acquainted with all that had been done, even as I
have already related it, from the first successful trick played
on Rischenheim to the moment of his unfortunate escape. But my
face grew long and apprehensive when I heard that Rudolf
Rassendyll had gone alone to Strelsau to put his head in that
lion's mouth in the Konigstrasse.
"There will be three of them there--Rupert, Rischenheim, and my
rascal Bauer," said I.
"As to Rupert, we don't know," Sapt reminded me. "He'll be there
if Rischenheim arrives in time to tell him the truth. But we have
also to be ready for him here, and at the hunting lodge. Well,
we're ready for him wherever he is: Rudolf will be in Strelsau,
you and I will ride to the lodge, and Bernenstein will be here
with the queen."
"Only one here?" I asked.
"Ay, but a good one," said the constable, clapping Bernenstein on
the shoulder. "We sha'n't be gone above four hours, and those
while the king is safe in his bed. Bernenstein has only to refuse
access to him, and stand to that with his life till we come back.
You're equal to that, eh, Lieutenant?"
I am, by nature, a cautious man, and prone to look. at the dark
side of every prospect and the risks of every enterprise; but I
could not see what better dispositions were possible against the
attack that threatened us. Yet I was sorely uneasy concerning Mr.
Rassendyll.
Now, after all our stir and runnings to and fro, came an hour or
two of peace. We employed the time in having a good meal, and it
was past five when, our repast finished, we sat back in our
chairs enjoying cigars. James had waited on us, quietly usurping
the office of the constable's own servant, and thus we had been
able to talk freely. The man's calm confidence in his master and
his master's fortune also went far to comfort me.
"The king should be back soon," said Sapt at last, with a glance
at his big, old-fashioned silver watch. "Thank God, he'll be too
tired to sit up long. We shall be free by nine o'clock, Fritz. I
wish young Rupert would come to the lodge!" And the colonel's
face expressed a lively pleasure at the idea.
Six o'clock struck, and the king did not appear. A few moments
later, a message came from the queen, requesting our presence on
the terrace in front of the chateau. The place commanded a view
of the road by which the king would ride back, and we found the
queen walking restlessly up and down, considerably disquieted by
the lateness of his return. In such a position as ours, every
unusual or unforeseen incident magnifies its possible meaning,
and invests itself with a sinister importance which would at
ordinary times seem absurd. We three shared the queen's feelings,
and forgetting the many chances of the chase, any one of which
would amply account for the king's delay, fell to speculating on
remote possibilities of disaster. He might have met
Rischenheim--though they had ridden in opposite directions;
Rupert might have intercepted him--though no means could have
brought Rupert to the forest so early. Our fears defeated common
sense, and our conjectures outran possibility. Sapt was the first
to recover from this foolish mood, and he rated us soundly, not
sparing even the queen herself. With a laugh we regained some of
our equanimity, and felt rather ashamed of our weakness.
"Still it's strange that he doesn't come," murmured the queen,
shading her eyes with her hand, and looking along the road to
where the dark masses of the forest trees bounded our view. It
was already dusk, but not so dark but that we could have seen the
king's party as soon as it came into the open.
If the king's delay seemed strange at six, it was stranger at
seven, and by eight most strange. We had long since ceased to
talk lightly; by now we had lapsed into silence. Sapt's scoldings
had died away. The queen, wrapped in her furs (for it was very
cold), sat sometimes on a seat, but oftener paced restlessly to
and fro. Evening had fallen. We did not know what to do, nor even
whether we ought to do anything. Sapt would not own to sharing
our worst apprehensions, but his gloomy silence in face of our
surmises witnessed that he was in his heart as disturbed as we
were. For my part I had come to the end of my endurance, and I
cried, "For God's sake, let's act! Shall I go and seek him?"
"A needle in a bundle of hay," said Sapt with a shrug.
But at this instant my ear caught the sound of horses cantering
on the road from the forest; at the same moment Bernenstein
cried, "Here they come!" The queen paused, and we gathered round
her. The horse-hoofs came nearer. Now we made out the figures of
three men: they were the king's huntsmen, and they rode along
merrily, singing a hunting chorus. The sound of it brought relief
to us; so far at least there was no disaster. But why was not the
king with them?
"The king is probably tired, and is following more slowly,
madam," suggested Bernenstein.
This explanation seemed very probable, and the lieutenant and I,
as ready to be hopeful on slight grounds as fearful on small
provocation, joyfully accepted it. Sapt, less easily turned to
either mood, said, "Ay, but let us hear," and raising his voice,
called to the huntsmen, who had now arrived in the avenue. One of
them, the king's chief huntsman Simon, gorgeous in his uniform of
green and gold, came swaggering along, and bowed low to the
queen.
"Well, Simon, where is the king?" she asked, trying to smile.
"The king, madam, has sent a message by me to your majesty."
"Pray, deliver it to me, Simon."
"I will, madam. The king has enjoyed fine sport; and, indeed,
madam, if I may say so for myself, a better run.--"
"You may say, friend Simon," interrupted the constable, tapping
him on the shoulder, "anything you like for yourself, but, as a
matter of etiquette, the king's message should come first."
"Oh, ay, Constable," said Simon. "You're always so down on a man,
aren't you? Well, then, madam, the king has enjoyed fine sport.
For we started a boar at eleven, and--"
"Is this the king's message, Simon?" asked the queen, smiling in
genuine amusement, but impatiently.
"Why, no, madam, not precisely his majesty's message."
"Then get to it, man, in Heaven's name," growled Sapt testily.
For here were we four (the queen, too, one of us!) on
tenterhooks, while the fool boasted about the sport that he had
shown the king. For every boar in the forest Simon took as much
credit as though he, and not Almighty God, had made the animal.
It is the way with such fellows.
Simon became a little confused under the combined influence of
his own seductive memories and Sapt's brusque exhortations.
"As I was saying, madam," he resumed, "the boar led us a long
way, but at last the hounds pulled him down, and his majesty
himself gave the coup de grace. Well, then it was very late "
"It's no earlier now," grumbled the constable.
"And the king, although indeed, madam, his majesty was so
gracious as to say that no huntsman whom his majesty had ever
had, had given his majesty--"
"God help us!" groaned the constable.
Simon shot an apprehensive apologetic glance at Colonel Sapt. The
constable was frowning ferociously. In spite of the serious
matters in hand I could not forbear a smile, while young
Bernenstein broke into an audible laugh, which he tried to
smother with his hand.
"Yes, the king was very tired, Simon?" said the queen, at once
encouraging him and bringing him back to the point with a woman's
skill.
"Yes, madam, the king was very tired; and as we chanced to kill
near the hunting-lodge--"
I do not know whether Simon noticed any change in the manner of
his audience. But the queen looked up with parted lips, and I
believe that we three all drew a step nearer him. Sapt did not
interrupt this time.
"Yes, madam, the king was very tired, and as we chanced to kill
near the hunting-lodge, the king bade us carry our quarry there,
and come back to dress it to-morrow; so we obeyed, and here we
are--that is, except Herbert, my brother, who stayed with the
king by his majesty's orders. Because, madam, Herbert is a handy
fellow, and my good mother taught him to cook a steak and--"
"Stayed where with the king?" roared Sapt.
"Why, at the hunting-lodge, Constable. The king stays there
to-night, and will ride back tomorrow morning with Herbert. That,
madam, is the king's message."
We had come to it at last, and it was something to come to. Simon
gazed from face to face. I saw him, and I understood at once that
our feelings must be speaking too plainly. So I took on myself to
dismiss him, saying:
"Thanks, Simon, thanks: we understand."
He bowed to the queen; she roused herself, and added her thanks
to mine. Simon withdrew, looking still a little puzzled.
After we were left alone, there was a moment's silence. Then I
said:
"Suppose Rupert--"
The Constable of Zenda broke in with a short laugh.
"On my life," said he, "how things fall out! We say he will go to
the hunting-lodge, and--he goes!"
"If Rupert goes--if Rischenheim doesn't stop him!" I urged again.
The queen rose from her seat and stretched out her hands towards
us.
"Gentlemen, my letter!" said she.
Sapt wasted no time.
"Bernenstein," said he, "you stay here as we arranged. Nothing is
altered. Horses for Fritz and myself in five minutes."
Bernenstein turned and shot like an arrow along the terrace
towards the stables.
"Nothing is altered, madam," said Sapt, "except that we must be
there before Count Rupert."
I looked at my watch. It was twenty minutes past nine. Simon's
cursed chatter had lost a quarter of an hour. I opened my lips to
speak. A glance from Sapt's eyes told me that he discerned what I
was about to say. I was silent.
"You'll be in time?" asked the queen, with clasped hands and
frightened eyes.
"Assuredly, madam," returned Sapt with a bow.
"You won't let him reach the king?"
"Why, no, madam," said Sapt with a smile.
"From my heart, gentlemen," she said in a trembling voice, "from
my heart--"
"Here are the horses," cried Sapt. He snatched her hand, brushed
it with his grizzly moustache, and--well, I am not sure I heard,
and I can hardly believe what I think I heard. But I will set it
down for what it is worth. I think he said, "Bless your sweet
face, we'll do it." At any rate she drew back with a little cry
of surprise, and I saw the tears standing in her eyes. I kissed
her hand also; then we mounted, and we started, and we rode, as
if the devil were behind us, for the hunting-lodge.
But I turned once to watch her standing on the terrace, with
young Bernenstein's tall figure beside her.
"Can we be in time?" said I. It was what I had meant to say
before.
"I think not, but, by God, we'll try," said Colonel Sapt. And I
knew why he had not let me speak.
Suddenly there was a sound behind us of a horse at the gallop.
Our heads flew round in the ready apprehension of men on a
perilous errand. The hoofs drew near, for the unknown rode with
reckless haste.
"We had best see what it is," said the constable, pulling up.
A second more, and the horseman was beside us. Sapt swore an
oath, half in amusement, half in vexation.
"Why, is it you, James?" I cried.
"Yes, sir," answered Rudolf Rassendyll's servant.
"What the devil do you want?" asked Sapt.
"I came to attend on the Count von Tarlenheim, sir."
"I did not give you any orders, James."
"No, sir. But Mr. Rassendyll told me not to leave you, unless you
sent me away. So I made haste to follow you."
Then Sapt cried: "Deuce take it, what horse is that?"
"The best in the stables, so far as I could see, sir. I was
afraid of not overtaking you."
Sapt tugged his moustaches, scowled, but finally laughed.
"Much obliged for your compliment," said he. "The horse is mine."
"Indeed, sir?" said James with respectful interest.
For a moment we were all silent. Then Sapt laughed again.
"Forward!" said he, and the three of us dashed into the forest.
