CHAPTER XV. A PASTIME FOR COLONEL SAPT
THE Constable of Zenda and James, Mr. Rassendyll's servant, sat
at breakfast in the hunting-lodge. They were in the small room
which was ordinarily used as the bedroom of the gentleman in
attendance on the king: they chose it now because it commanded a
view of the approach. The door of the house was securely
fastened; they were prepared to refuse admission; in case refusal
was impossible, the preparations for concealing the king's body
and that of his huntsman Herbert were complete. Inquirers would
be told that the king had ridden out with his huntsman at
daybreak, promising to return in the evening but not stating
where he was going; Sapt was under orders to await his return,
and James was expecting instructions from his master the Count of
Tarlenheim. Thus armed against discovery, they looked for news
from me which should determine their future action.
Meanwhile there was an interval of enforced idleness. Sapt, his
meal finished, puffed away at his great pipe; James, after much
pressure, had consented to light a small black clay, and sat at
his ease with his legs stretched before him. His brows were knit,
and a curious half-smile played about his mouth.
"What may you be thinking about, friend James?" asked the
constable between two puffs. He had taken a fancy to the alert,
ready little fellow.
James smoked for a moment, and then took his pipe from his mouth.
"I was thinking, sir, that since the king is dead--"
He paused.
"The king is no doubt dead, poor fellow," said Sapt, nodding.
"That since he's certainly dead, and since my master, Mr.
Rassendyll, is alive--"
"So far as we know, James," Sapt reminded him.
"Why, yes, sir, so far as we know. Since, then, Mr. Rassendyll is
alive and the king is dead, I was thinking that it was a great
pity, sir, that my master can't take his place and be king."
James looked across at the constable with an air of a man who
offers a respectful suggestion.
"A remarkable thought, James," observed the constable with a
grin.
"You don't agree with me, sir?, asked James deprecatingly.
"I don't say that it isn't a pity, for Rudolf makes a good king.
But you see it's impossible, isn't it?"
James nursed his knee between his hands, and his pipe, which he
had replaced, stuck out of one corner of his mouth.
"When you say impossible, sir," he remarked deferentially, "I
venture to differ from you."
"You do? Come, we're at leisure. Let's hear how it would be
possible."
"My master is in Strelsau, sir," began James.
"Well, most likely."
"I'm sure of it, sir. If he's been there, he will be taken for
the king."
"That has happened before, and no doubt may happen again,
unless--"
"Why, of course, sir, unless the king's body should be
discovered."
"That's what I was about to say, James."
James kept silence for a few minutes. Then he observed, "It will
be very awkward to explain how the king was killed."
"The story will need good telling," admitted Sapt.
"And it will be difficult to make it appear that the king was
killed in Strelsau; yet if my master should chance to be killed
in Strelsau--"
"Heaven forbid, James! On all grounds, Heaven forbid!"
"Even if my master is not killed, it will be difficult for us to
get the king killed at the right time, and by means that will
seem plausible."
Sapt seemed to fall into the humor of the speculation. "That's
all very true. But if Mr. Rassendyll is to be king, it will be
both awkward and difficult to dispose of the king's body and of
this poor fellow Herbert," said he, sucking at his pipe.
Again James paused for a little while before he remarked: "I am,
of course, sir, only discussing the matter by way of passing the
time. It would probably be wrong to carry any such plan into
effect."
"It might be, but let us discuss it--to pass the time," said
Sapt; and he leant forward, looking into the servant's quiet,
shrewd face.
"Well, then, sir, since it amuses you, let us say that the king
came to the lodge last night, and was joined there by his friend
Mr. Rassendyll."
"And did I come too?"
"You, sir, came also, in attendance on the king."
"Well, and you, James? You came. How came you?"
"Why, sir, by the Count of Tarlenheim's orders, to wait on Mr.
Rassendyll, the king's friend. Now, the king, sir... This is my
story, you know, sir, only my story."
"Your story interests me. Go on with it."
"The king went out very early this morning, sir."
"That would be on private business?"
"So we should have understood. But Mr. Rassendyll, Herbert, and
ourselves remained here."
"Had the Count of Hentzau been?"
"Not to our knowledge, sir. But we were all tired and slept very
soundly."
"Now did we?" said the constable, with a grim smile.
"In fact, sir, we were all overcome with fatigue--Mr. Rassendyll
like the rest--and full morning found us still in our beds. There
we should be to this moment, sir, had we not been suddenly
aroused in a startling and fearful manner."
"You should write story books, James. Now what was this fearful
manner in which we were aroused?"
James laid down his pipe, and, resting his hands on his knees,
continued his story.
"This lodge, sir, this wooden lodge--for the lodge is all of
wood, sir, without and within."
"This lodge is undoubtedly of wood, James, and, as you say, both
inside and out."
"And since it is, sir, it would be mighty careless to leave a
candle burning where the oil and firewood are stored."
"Most criminal!"
"But hard words don't hurt dead men; and you see, sir, poor
Herbert is dead."
"It is true. He wouldn't feel aggrieved."
"But we, sir, you and I, awaking--"
"Aren't the others to awake, James?"
"Indeed, sir, I should pray that they had never awaked. For you
and I, waking first, would find the lodge a mass of flames. We
should have to run for our lives."
"What! Should we make no effort to rouse the others?"
"Indeed, sir, we should do all that men could do; we should even
risk death by suffocation."
"But we should fail, in spite of our heroism, should we?"
"Alas, sir, in spite of all our efforts we should fail. The
flames would envelop the lodge in one blaze; before help could
come, the lodge would be in ruins, and my unhappy master and poor
Herbert would be consumed to ashes."
"Hum!"
"They would, at least, sir, be entirely unrecognizable."
"You think so?"
"Beyond doubt, if the oil and the firewood and the candle were
placed to the best advantage."
"Ah, yes. And there would be an end of Rudolf Rassendyll?"
"Sir, I should myself carry the tidings to his family."
"Whereas the King of Ruritania--"
"Would enjoy a long and prosperous reign, God willing, sir."
"And the Queen of Ruritania, James?"
"Do not misunderstand me, sir. They could be secretly married. I
should say re-married."
"Yes, certainly, re-married."
"By a trustworthy priest."
"You mean by an untrustworthy priest?"
"It's the same thing, sir, from a different point of view." For
the first time James smiled a thoughtful smile.
Sapt in his turn laid down his pipe now, and was tugging at his
moustache. There was a smile on his lips too, and his eyes looked
hard into James's. The little man met his glance composedly.
"It's an ingenious fancy, this of yours, James," the constable
remarked. "What, though, if your master's killed too? That's
quite possible. Count Rupert's a man to be reckoned with."
"If my master is killed, sir, he must be buried," answered James.
"In Strelsau?" came in quick question from Sapt.
"He won't mind where, sir."
"True, he won't mind, and we needn't mind for him."
"Why, no, sir. But to carry a body secretly from here to
Strelsau--"
"Yes, that is, as we agreed at the first, difficult. Well, it's a
pretty story, but--your master wouldn't approve of it. Supposing
he were not killed, I mean."
"It's a waste of time, sir, disapproving of what's done: he might
think the story better than the truth, although it's not a good
story."
The two men's eyes met again in a long glance.
"Where do you come from?" asked Sapt, suddenly.
"London, sir, originally."
"They make good stories there?"
"Yes, sir, and act them sometimes."
The instant he had spoken, James sprang to his feet and pointed
out of the window.
A man on horseback was cantering towards the lodge. Exchanging
one quick look, both hastened to the door, and, advancing some
twenty yards, waited under the tree on the spot where Boris lay
buried.
"By the way," said Sapt, "you forgot the dog." And he pointed to
the ground.
"The affectionate beast will be in his master's room and die
there, sir."
"Eh, but he must rise again first!"
"Certainly, sir. That won't be a long matter."
Sapt was still smiling in grim amusement when the messenger came
up and, leaning from his home, handed him a telegram.
"Special and urgent, sir," said he.
Sapt tore it open and read. It was the message that I sent in
obedience to Mr. Rassendyll's orders. He would not trust my
cipher, but, indeed, none was necessary. Sapt would understand
the message, although it said simply, "The king is in Strelsau.
Wait orders at the lodge. Business here in progress, but not
finished. Will wire again."
Sapt handed it to James, who took it with a respectful little
bow. James read it with attention, and returned it with another
bow.
"I'll attend to what it says, sir," he remarked.
"Yes," said Sapt. "Thanks, my man," he added to the messenger.
"Here's a crown for you. If any other message comes for me and
you bring it in good time, you shall have another."
"You shall have it quick as a horse can bring it from the
station, sir."
"The king's business won't bear delay, you know," nodded Sapt.
"You sha'n't have to wait, sir," and, with a parting salute, the
fellow turned his horse and trotted away.
"You see," remarked Sapt, "that your story is quite imaginary.
For that fellow can see for himself that the lodge was not burnt
down last night."
"That's true; but, excuse me, sir--"
"Pray go on, James. I've told you that I'm interested."
"He can't see that it won't be burnt down to-night. A fire, sir,
is a thing that may happen any night."
Then old Sapt suddenly burst into a roar, half-speech, half
laughter.
"By God, what a thing!" he roared; and James smiled complacently.
"There's a fate about it," said the constable. "There's a strange
fate about it. The man was born to it. We'd have done it before
if Michael had throttled the king in that cellar, as I thought he
would. Yes, by heavens, we'd have done it! Why, we wanted it! God
forgive us, in our hearts both Fritz and I wanted it. But Rudolf
would have the king out. He would have him out, though he lost a
throne--and what he wanted more--by it. But he would have him
out. So he thwarted the fate. But it's not to be thwarted. Young
Rupert may think this new affair is his doing. No, it's the fate
using him. The fate brought Rudolf here again, the fate will have
him king. Well, you stare at me. Do you think I'm mad, Mr.
Valet?"
"I think, sir, that you talk very good sense, if I may say so,"
answered James.
"Sense?" echoed Sapt with a chuckle. "I don't know about that.
But the fate's there, depend on it!"
The two were back in their little room now, past the door that
hid the bodies of the king and his huntsman. James stood by the
table, old Sapt roamed up and down, tugging his moustache, and
now and again sawing the air with his sturdy hairy hand.
"I daren't do it," he muttered: "I daren't do it. It's a thing a
man can't set his hand to of his own will. But the fate'll do
it--the fate'll do it. The fate'll force it on us."
"Then we'd best be ready, sir," suggested James quietly. Sapt
turned on him quickly, almost fiercely.
"They used to call me a cool hand," said he. "By Jove, what are
you?"
"There's no harm in being ready, sir," said James, the servant.
Sapt came to him and caught hold of his shoulders. "Ready?" he
asked in a gruff whisper.
"The oil, the firewood, the light," said James.
"Where, man, where? Do you mean, by the bodies?"
"Not where the bodies are now. Each must be in the proper place."
"We must move them then?"
"Why, yes. And the dog too."
Sapt almost glared at him; then he burst into a laugh.
"So be it," he said. "You take command. Yes, we'll be ready. The
fate drives."
Then and there they set about what they had to do. It seemed
indeed as though some strange influence were dominating Sapt; he
went about the work like a man who is hardly awake. They placed
the bodies each where the living man would be by night--the king
in the guest-room, the huntsman in the sort of cupboard where the
honest fellow had been wont to lie. They dug up the buried dog,
Sapt chuckling convulsively, James grave as the mute whose grim
doings he seemed to travesty: they carried the shot-pierced,
earth-grimed thing in, and laid it in the king's room. Then they
made their piles of wood, pouring the store of oil over them, and
setting bottles of spirit near, that the flames having cracked
the bottles, might gain fresh fuel. To Sapt it seemed now as if
they played some foolish game that was to end with the playing,
now as if they obeyed some mysterious power which kept its great
purpose hidden from its instruments. Mr. Rassendyll's servant
moved and arranged and ordered all as deftly as he folded his
master's clothes or stropped his master's razor. Old Sapt stopped
him once as he went by.
"Don't think me a mad fool, because I talk of the fate," he said,
almost anxiously.
"Not I, sir," answered James, "I know nothing of that. But I like
to be ready."
"It would be a thing!" muttered Sapt.
The mockery, real or assumed, in which they had begun their work,
had vanished now. If they were not serious, they played at
seriousness. If they entertained no intention such as their acts
seemed to indicate, they could no longer deny that they had
cherished a hope. They shrank, or at least Sapt shrank, from
setting such a ball rolling; but they longed for the fate that
would give it a kick, and they made smooth the incline down which
it, when thus impelled, was to run. When they had finished their
task and sat down again opposite to one another in the little
front room, the whole scheme was ready, the preparations were
made, all was in train; they waited only for that impulse from
chance or fate which was to turn the servant's story into reality
and action. And when the thing was done, Sapt's coolness, so
rarely upset, yet so completely beaten by the force of that wild
idea, came back to him. He lit his pipe again and lay back in his
chair, puffing freely, with a meditative look on his face.
"It's two o'clock, sir," said James. "Something should have
happened before now in Strelsau."
"Ah, but what?" asked the constable.
Suddenly breaking on their ears came a loud knock at the door.
Absorbed in their own thoughts, they had not noticed two men
riding up to the lodge. The visitors wore the green and gold of
the king's huntsmen; the one who had knocked was Simon, the chief
huntsman, and brother of Herbert, who lay dead in the little room
inside.
"Rather dangerous!" muttered the Constable of Zenda as he hurried
to the door, James following him.
Simon was astonished when Sapt opened the door.
"Beg pardon, Constable, but I want to see Herbert. Can I go in?"
And he jumped down from his horse, throwing the reins to his
companion.
"What's the good of your going in?" asked Sapt. "Herbert's not
here."
"Not here? Then where is he?"
"Why, he went with the king this morning."
"Oh, he went with the king, sir? Then he's in Strelsau, I
suppose?"
"If you know that, Simon, you're wiser than I am."
"But the king is in Strelsau, sir."
"The deuce he is! He said nothing of going to Strelsau. He rose
early and rode off with Herbert, merely saying they would be back
to-night."
"He went to Strelsau, sir. I am just from Zenda, and his Majesty
is known to have been in town with the queen. They were both at
Count Fritz's."
"I'm much interested to hear it. But didn't the telegram say
where Herbert was?"
Simon laughed.
"Herbert's not a king, you see," he said. "Well, I'll come again
to-morrow morning, for I must see him soon. He'll be back by
then, sir?"
"Yes, Simon, your brother will be here to-morrow morning."
"Or what's left of him after such a two-days of work," suggested
Simon jocularly.
"Why, yes, precisely," said Sapt, biting his moustache and
darting one swift glance at James. "Or what's left of him, as you
say."
"And I'll bring a cart and carry the boar down to the castle at
the same time, sir. At least, I suppose you haven't eaten it all?
Sapt laughed; Simon was gratified at the tribute, and laughed
even more heartily himself.
"We haven't even cooked it yet," said Sapt, "but I won't answer
for it that we sha'n't have by to-morrow."
"All right, sir; I'll be here. By the way, there's another bit of
news come on the wires. They say Count Rupert of Hentzau has been
seen in the city."
"Rupert of Hentzau? Oh, pooh! Nonsense, my good Simon. He daren't
show his face there for his life."
"Ah, but it may be no nonsense. Perhaps that's what took the king
to Strelsau."
"It's enough to take him if it's true," admitted Sapt.
"Well, good day, sir."
"Good day, Simon."
The two huntsmen rode off. James watched them for a little while.
"The king," he said then, "is known to be in Strelsau; and now
Count Rupert is known to be in Strelsau. How is Count Rupert to
have killed the king here in the forest of Zenda, sir?"
Sapt looked at him almost apprehensively.
"How is the king's body to come to the forest of Zenda?" asked
James. "Or how is the king's body to go to the city of Strelsau?"
"Stop your damned riddles!" roared Sapt. "Man, are you bent on
driving me into it?"
The servant came near to him, and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"You went into as great a thing once before, sir," said he.
"It was to save the king."
"And this is to save the queen and yourself. For if we don't do
it, the truth about my master must be known."
Sapt made him no answer. They sat down again in silence.
There they sat, sometimes smoking, never speaking, while the
tedious afternoon wore away, and the shadows from the trees of
the forest lengthened. They did not think of eating or drinking;
they did not move, save when James rose and lit a little fire of
brushwood in the grate. It grew dusk and again James moved to
light the lamp. It was hard on six o'clock, and still no news
came from Strelsau.
Then there was the sound of a horse's hoofs. The two rushed to
the door, beyond it, and far along the grassy road that gave
approach to the hunting-lodge. They forgot to guard the secret
and the door gaped open behind them. Sapt ran as he had not run
for many a day, and outstripped his companion. There was a
message from Strelsau!
The constable, without a word of greeting, snatched the envelope
from the hand of the messenger and tore it open. He read it
hastily, muttering under his breath "Good God!, Then he turned
suddenly round and began to walk quickly back to James, who,
seeing himself beaten in the race, had dropped to a walk. But the
messenger had his cares as well as the constable. If the
constable's thoughts were on a crown, so were his. He called out
in indignant protest:
"I have never drawn rein since Hofbau, sir. Am I not to have my
crown?"
Sapt stopped, turned, and retraced his steps. He took a crown
from his pocket. As he looked up in giving it, there was a queer
smile on his broad, weather-beaten face.
"Ay," he said, "every man that deserves a crown shall have one,
if I can give it him."
Then he turned again to James, who had now come up, and laid his
hand on his shoulder.
"Come along, my king-maker," said he.
James looked in his face for a moment. The constable's eyes met
his; and the constable nodded.
So they turned to the lodge where the dead king and his huntsman
lay. Verily the fate drove.
