CHAPTER IX. THE KING IN THE HUNTING LODGE
THE moment with its shock and tumult of feeling brings one
judgment, later reflection another. Among the sins of Rupert of
Hentzau I do not assign the first and greatest place to his
killing of the king. It was, indeed, the act of a reckless man
who stood at nothing and held nothing sacred; but when I consider
Herbert's story, and trace how the deed came to be done and the
impulsion of circumstances that led to it, it seems to have been
in some sort thrust upon him by the same perverse fate that
dogged our steps. He had meant the king no harm--indeed it may
be argued that, from whatever motive, he had sought to serve
him--and save under the sudden stress of self-defense he had done
him none. The king's unlooked-for ignorance of his errand,
Herbert's honest hasty zeal, the temper of Boris the hound, had
forced on him an act unmeditated and utterly against his
interest. His whole guilt lay in preferring the king's death to
his own--a crime perhaps in most men, but hardly deserving a
place in Rupert's catalogue. All this I can admit now, but on
that night, with the dead body lying there before us, with the
story piteously told by Herbert's faltering voice fresh in our
ears, it was hard to allow any such extenuation. Our hearts cried
out for vengeance, although we ourselves served the king no more.
Nay, it may well be that we hoped to stifle some reproach of our
own consciences by a louder clamor against another's sin, or
longed to offer some belated empty atonement to our dead master
by executing swift justice on the man who had killed him. I
cannot tell fully what the others felt, but in me at least the
dominant impulse was to waste not a moment in proclaiming the
crime and raising the whole country in pursuit of Rupert, so that
every man in Ruritania should quit his work, his pleasure, or his
bed, and make it his concern to take the Count of Hentzau, alive
or dead. I remember that I walked over to where Sapt was sitting,
and caught him by the arm, saying:
"We must raise the alarm. If you'll go to Zenda, I'll start for
Strelsau."
"The alarm?" said he, looking up at me and tugging his moustache.
"Yes: when the news is known, every man in the kingdom will be on
the lookout for him, and he can't escape."
"So that he'd be taken?" asked the constable.
"Yes, to a certainty," I cried, hot in excitement and emotion.
Sapt glanced across at Mr. Rassendyll's servant. James had, with
my help, raised the king's body on to the bed, and had aided the
wounded forester to reach a couch. He stood now near the
constable, in his usual unobtrusive readiness. He did not speak,
but I saw a look of understanding in his eyes as he nodded his
head to Colonel Sapt. They were well matched, that pair, hard to
move, hard to shake, not to be turned from the purpose in their
minds and the matter that lay to their hands.
"Yes, he'd probably be taken or killed," said Sapt.
"Then let's do it!" I cried.
"With the queen's letter on him," said Colonel Sapt.
I had forgotten.
"We have the box, he has the letter still," said Sapt.
I could have laughed even at that moment. He had left the box
(whether from haste or heedlessness or malice, we could not
tell), but the letter was on him. Taken alive, he would use that
powerful weapon to save his life or satisfy his anger; if it were
found on his body, its evidence would speak loud and clear to all
the world. Again he was protected by his crime: while he had the
letter, he must be kept inviolate from all attack except at our
own hands. We desired his death, but we must be his body-guard
and die in his defense rather than let any other but ourselves
come at him. No open means must be used, and no allies sought.
All this rushed to my mind at Sapt's words, and I saw what the
constable and James had never forgotten. But what to do I could
not see. For the King of Ruritania lay dead.
An hour or more had passed since our discovery, and it was now
close on midnight. Had all gone well we ought by this time to
have been far on our road back to the castle; by this time Rupert
must be miles away from where he had killed the king; already Mr.
Rassendyll would be seeking his enemy in Strelsau.
"But what are we to do about--about that, then?" I asked,
pointing with my finger through the doorway towards the bed.
Sapt gave a last tug at his moustache, then crossed his hands on
the hilt of the sword between his knees, and leant forward in his
chair.
"Nothing, he said," looking at my face. "Until we have the
letter, nothing."
"But it's impossible!" I cried.
"Why, no, Fritz," he answered thoughtfully. "It's not possible
yet; it may become so. But if we can catch Rupert in the next
day, or even in the next two days, it's not impossible. Only let
me have the letter, and I'll account for the concealment. What?
Is the fact that crimes are known never concealed, for fear of
putting the criminal on his guard?"
"You'll be able to make a story, sir," James put in, with a grave
but reassuring air.
"Yes, James, I shall be able to make a story, or your master will
make one for me. But, by God, story or no story, the letter
mustn't be found. Let them say we killed him ourselves if they
like, but.--"
I seized his hand and gripped it.
"You don't doubt I'm with you?" I asked.
"Not for a moment, Fritz," he answered.
"Then how can we do it?"
We drew nearer together; Sapt and I sat, while James leant over
Sapt's chair.
The oil in the lamp was almost exhausted, and the light burnt
very dim. Now and again poor Herbert, for whom our skill could do
nothing, gave a slight moan. I am ashamed to remember how little
we thought of him, but great schemes make the actors in them
careless of humanity; the life of a man goes for nothing against
a point in the game. Except for his groans--and they grew fainter
and less frequen--our voices alone broke the silence of the
little lodge.
"The queen must know," said Sapt. "Let her stay at Zenda and give
out that the king is at the lodge for a day or two longer. Then
you, Fritz--for you must ride to the castle at once--and
Bernenstein must get to Strelsau as quick as you can, and find
Rudolf Rassendyll. You three ought to be able to track young
Rupert down and get the letter from him. If he's not in the city,
you must catch Rischenheim, and force him to say where he is; we
know Rischenheim can be persuaded. If Rupert's there, I need give
no advice either to you or to Rudolf."
"And you?"
"James and I stay here. If any one comes whom we can keep out,
the king is ill. If rumors get about, and great folk come, why,
they must enter."
"But the body?"
"This morning, when you're gone, we shall make a temporary grave.
I dare say two," and he jerked his thumb towards poor Herbert.
"Or even," he added, with his grim smile, "three--for our friend
Boris, too, must be out of sight."
"You'll bury the king?"
"Not so deep but that we can take him out again, poor fellow.
Well, Fritz, have you a better plan?"
I had no plan, and I was not in love with Sapt's plan. Yet it
offered us four and twenty hours. For that time, at least, it
seemed as if the secret could be kept. Beyond that we could
hardly hope for success; after that we must produce the king;
dead or alive, the king must be seen. Yet it might be that before
the respite ran out Rupert would be ours. In fine, what else
could be chosen? For now a greater peril threatened than that
against which we had at the first sought to guard. Then the worst
we feared was that the letter should come to the king's hands.
That could never be. But it would be a worse thing if it were
found on Rupert, and all the kingdom, nay, all Europe, know that
it was written in the hand of her who was now, in her own right,
Queen of Ruritania. To save her from that, no chance was too
desperate, no scheme too perilous; yes, if, as Sapt said, we
ourselves were held to answer for the king's death, still we must
go on. I, through whose negligence the whole train of disaster
had been laid, was the last man to hesitate. In all honesty, I
held my life due and forfeit, should it be demanded of me--my
life and, before the world, my honor.
So the plan was made. A grave was to be dug ready for the king;
if need arose, his body should be laid in it, and the place
chosen was under the floor of the wine-cellar. When death came
to poor Herbert, he could lie in the yard behind the house; for
Boris they meditated a resting-place under the tree where our
horses were tethered. There was nothing to keep me, and I rose;
but as I rose, I heard the forester's voice call plaintively for
me. The unlucky fellow knew me well, and now cried to me to sit
by him. I think Sapt wanted me to leave him, but I could not
refuse his last request, even though it consumed some precious
minutes. He was very near his end, and, sitting by him, I did my
best to soothe his passing. His fortitude was good to see, and I
believe that we all at last found new courage for our enterprise
from seeing how this humble man met death. At least even the
constable ceased to show impatience, and let me stay till I could
close the sufferer's eyes.
But thus time went, and it was nearly five in the morning before
I bade them farewell and mounted my horse. They took theirs and
led them away to the stables behind the lodge; I waved my hand
and galloped off on my return to the castle. Day was dawning, and
the air was fresh and pure. The new light brought new hope; fears
seemed to vanish before it; my nerves were strung to effort and
to confidence. My horse moved freely under me and carried me
easily along the grassy avenues. It was hard then to be utterly
despondent, hard to doubt skill of brain, strength of hand, or
fortune's favor.
The castle came in sight, and I hailed it with a glad cry that
echoed among the trees. But a moment later I gave an exclamation
of surprise, and raised myself a little from the saddle while I
gazed earnestly at the summit of the keep. The flag staff was
naked; the royal standard that had flapped in the wind last night
was gone. But by immemorial custom the flag flew on the keep when
the king or the queen was at the castle. It would fly for Rudolf
V. no more; but why did it not proclaim and honor the presence of
Queen Flavia? I sat down in my saddle and spurred my horse to the
top of his speed. We had been buffeted by fate sorely, but now I
feared yet another blow.
In a quarter of an hour more I was at the door. A servant ran
out, and I dismounted leisurely and easily. Pulling off my
gloves, I dusted my boots with them, turned to the stableman and
bade him look to the horse, and then said to the footman:
"As soon as the queen is dressed, find out if she can see me. I
have a message from his Majesty."
The fellow looked a little puzzled, but at this moment Hermann,
the king's major-domo, came to the door.
"Isn't the constable with you, my lord?" he asked.
"No, the constable remains at the lodge with the king," said I
carelessly, though I was very far from careless. "I have a
message for her Majesty, Hermann. Find out from some of the women
when she will receive me."
"The queen's not here," said he. "Indeed we've had a lively time,
my lord. At five o'clock she came out, ready dressed, from her
room, sent for Lieutenant von Bernenstein, and announced that she
was about to set out from the castle. As you know, the mail train
passes here at six." Hermann took out his watch. "Yes, the queen
must just have left the station."
"Where for?" I asked, with a shrug for the woman's whim. "Why,
for Strelsau. She gave no reasons for going, and took with her
only one lady, Lieutenant von Bernenstein being in attendance. It
was a bustle, if you like, with everybody to be roused and got
out of bed, and a carriage to be made ready, and messages to go
to the station, and--"
"She gave no reasons?"
"None, my lord. She left with me a letter to the constable, which
she ordered me to give to his own hands as soon as he arrived at
the castle. She said it contained a message of importance, which
the constable was to convey to the king, and that it must be
intrusted to nobody except Colonel Sapt himself. I wonder, my
lord, that you didn't notice that the flag was hauled down."
"Tut, man, I wasn't staring at the keep. Give me the letter." For
I saw that the clue to this fresh puzzle must lie under the cover
of Sapt's letter. That letter I must myself carry to Sapt, and
without loss of time.
"Give you the letter, my lord? But, pardon me, you're not the
constable." He laughed a little.
"Why, no," said I, mustering a smile. "It's true that I'm not the
constable, but I'm going to the constable. I had the king's
orders to rejoin him as soon as I had seen the queen, and since
her Majesty isn't here, I shall return to the lodge directly a
fresh horse can be saddled for me. And the constable's at the
lodge. Come, the letter!"
"I can't give it you, my lord. Her Majesty's orders were
positive."
"Nonsense! If she had known I should come and not the constable,
she would have told me to carry it to him."
"I don't know about that, my lord: her orders were plain, and she
doesn't like being disobeyed."
The stableman had led the horse away, the footman had
disappeared, Hermann and I were alone. "Give me the letter," I
said; and I know that my self-control failed, and eagerness was
plain in my voice. Plain it was, and Hermann took alarm. He
started back, clapping his hand to the breast of his laced coat.
The gesture betrayed where the letter was; I was past prudence; I
sprang on him and wrenched his hand away, catching him by the
throat with my other hand. Diving into his pocket, I got the
letter. Then I suddenly loosed hold of him, for his eyes were
starting out of his head. I took out a couple of gold pieces and
gave them to him.
"It's urgent, you fool," said I. "Hold your tongue about it." And
without waiting to study his amazed red face, I turned and ran
towards the stable. In five minutes I was on a fresh horse, in
six I was clear of the castle, heading back fast as I could go
for the hunting-lodge. Even now Hermann remembers the grip I gave
him--though doubtless he has long spent the pieces of gold.
When I reached the end of this second journey, I came in for the
obsequies of Boris. James was just patting the ground under the
tree with a mattock when I rode up; Sapt was standing by, smoking
his pipe. The boots of both were stained and sticky with mud. I
flung myself from my saddle and blurted out my news. The
constable snatched at his letter with an oath; James leveled the
ground with careful accuracy; I do not remember doing anything
except wiping my forehead and feeling very hungry.
"Good Lord, she's gone after him!" said Sapt, as he read. Then he
handed me the letter.
I will not set out what the queen wrote. The purport seemed to
us, who did not share her feelings, pathetic indeed and moving,
but in the end (to speak plainly) folly. She had tried to endure
her sojourn at Zenda, she said; but it drove her mad. She could
not rest; she did not know how we fared, nor how those in
Strelsau; for hours she had lain awake; then at last falling
asleep, she had dreamt.
"I had had the same dream before. Now it came again. I saw him so
plain. He seemed to me to be king, and to be called king. But he
did not answer nor move. He seemed dead; and I could not rest."
So she wrote, ever excusing herself, ever repeating how something
drew her to Strelsau, telling her that she must go if she would
see "him whom you know," alive again. "And I must see him--ah, I
must see him! If the king has had the letter, I am ruined
already. If he has not, tell him what you will or what you can
contrive. I must go. It came a second time, and all so plain. I
saw him; I tell you I saw him. Ah, I must see him again. I swear
that I will only see him once. He's in danger--I know he's in
danger; or what does the dream mean? Bernenstein will go with me,
and I shall see him. Do, do forgive me: I can't stay, the dream
was so plain." Thus she ended, seeming, poor lady, half frantic
with the visions that her own troubled brain and desolate heart
had conjured up to torment her. I did not know that she had
before told Mr. Rassendyll himself of this strange dream; though
I lay small store by such matters, believing that we ourselves
make our dreams, fashioning out of the fears and hopes of to-day
what seems to come by night in the guise of a mysterious
revelation. Yet there are some things that a man cannot
understand, and I do not profess to measure with my mind the ways
of God.
However, not why the queen went, but that she had gone, concerned
us. We had returned to the house now, and James, remembering that
men must eat though kings die, was getting us some breakfast. In
fact, I had great need of food, being utterly worn out; and they,
after their labors, were hardly less weary. As we ate, we talked;
and it was plain to us that I also must go to Strelsau. There, in
the city, the drama must be played out. There was Rudolf, there
Rischenheim, there in all likelihood Rupert of Hentzau, there now
the queen. And of these Rupert alone, or perhaps Rischenheim
also, knew that the king was dead, and how the issue of last
night had shaped itself under the compelling hand of wayward
fortune. The king lay in peace on his bed, his grave was dug;
Sapt and James held the secret with solemn faith and ready lives.
To Strelsau I must go to tell the queen that she was widowed, and
to aim the stroke at young Rupert's heart.
At nine in the morning I started from the lodge. I was bound to
ride to Hofbau and there wait for a train which would carry me to
the capital. From Hofbau I could send a message, but the message
must announce only my own coming, not the news I carried. To
Sapt, thanks to the cipher, I could send word at any time, and he
bade me ask Mr. Rassendyll whether he should come to our aid, or
stay where he was.
"A day must decide the whole thing," he said. "We can't conceal
the king's death long. For God's sake, Fritz, make an end of that
young villain, and get the letter."
So, wasting no time in farewells, I set out. By ten o'clock I was
at Hofbau, for I rode furiously. From there I sent to Bernenstein
at the palace word of my coming. But there I was delayed. There
was no train for an hour.
"I'll ride," I cried to myself, only to remember the next moment
that, if I rode, I should come to my journey's end much later.
There was nothing for it but to wait, and it may be imagined in
what mood I waited. Every minute seemed an hour, and I know not
to this day how the hour wore itself away. I ate, I drank, I
smoked, I walked, sat, and stood. The stationmaster knew me, and
thought I had gone mad, till I told him that I carried most
important despatches from the king, and that the delay imperiled
great interests. Then he became sympathetic; but what could he
do? No special train was to be had at a roadside station: I must
wait; and wait, somehow, and without blowing my brains out, I
did.
At last I was in the train; now indeed we moved, and I came
nearer. An hour's run brought me in sight of the city. Then, to
my unutterable wrath, we were stopped, and waited motionless
twenty minutes or half an hour. At last we started again; had we
not, I should have jumped out and run, for to sit longer would
have driven me mad. Now we entered the station. With a great
effort I calmed myself. I lolled back in my seat; when we stopped
I sat there till a porter opened the door. In lazy leisureliness
I bade him get me a cab, and followed him across the station. He
held the door for me, and, giving him his douceur, I set my foot
on the step.
"Tell him to drive to the palace," said I, "and be quick. I'm
late already, thanks to this cursed train."
"The old mare'll soon take you there, sir," said the driver. I
jumped in. But at this moment I saw a man on the platform
beckoning with his hand and hastening towards me. The cabman also
saw him and waited. I dared not tell him to drive on, for I
feared to betray any undue haste, and it would have looked
strange not to spare a moment to my wife's cousin, Anton von
Strofzin. He came up, holding out his hand,delicately gloved in
pearl-gray kid, for young Anton was a leader of the Strelsau
dandies.
"Ah, my dear Fritz!" said he. "I am glad I hold no appointment at
court. How dreadfully active you all are! I thought you were
settled at Zenda for a month?"
"The queen changed her mind suddenly," said I, smiling. "Ladies
do, as you know well, you who know all about them."
My compliment, or insinuation, produced a pleased smile and a
gallant twirling of his moustache.
"Well, I thought you'd be here soon," he said, "but I didn't know
that the queen had come."
"You didn't? Then why did you look for me?"
He opened his eyes a little in languid, elegant surprise. "Oh, I
supposed you'd be on duty, or something, and have to come. Aren't
you in attendance?"
"On the queen? No, not just now."
"But on the king?"
"Why, yes," said I, and I leaned forward. "At least I'm engaged
now on the king's business."
"Precisely," said he. "So I thought you'd come, as soon as I
heard that the king was here."
It may be that I ought to have preserved my composure. But I am
not Sapt nor Rudolf Rassendyll.
"The king here?" I gasped, clutching him by the arm.
"Of course. You didn't know? Yes, he's in town."
But I heeded him no more. For a moment I could not speak, then I
cried to the cabman:
"To the palace. And drive like the devil!"
We shot away, leaving Anton open-mouthed in wonder. For me, I
sank back on the cushions, fairly aghast. The king lay dead in
the hunting-lodge, but the king was in his capital!
Of course, the truth soon flashed through my mind, but it brought
no comfort. Rudolf Rassendyll was in Strelsau. He had been seen
by somebody and taken for the king. But comfort? What comfort was
there, now that the king was dead and could never come to the
rescue of his counterfeit?
In fact, the truth was worse than I conceived. Had I known it
all, I might well have yielded to despair. For not by the chance,
uncertain sight of a passer-by, not by mere rumor which might
have been sturdily denied, not by the evidence of one only or of
two, was the king's presence in the city known. That day, by the
witness of a crowd of people, by his own claim and his own voice,
ay, and by the assent of the queen herself, Mr. Rassendyll was
taken to be the king in Strelsau, while neither he nor Queen
Flavia knew that the king was dead. I must now relate the strange
and perverse succession of events which forced them to employ a
resource so dangerous and face a peril so immense. Yet, great and
perilous as they knew the risk to be even when they dared it, in
the light of what they did not know it was more fearful and more
fatal still.
