Rupert of Hentzau: From The Memoirs of Fritz Von Tarlenheim

by Anthony Hope

  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 notassign 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 nothingsacred; but when I consider Herbert's story, and trace how the deed cameto be done and the impulsion of circumstances that led to it, it seemsto have been in some sort thrust upon him by the same perverse fate thatdogged our steps. He had meant the king no harm--indeed it may be arguedthat, from whatever motive, he had sought to serve him--and save underthe sudden stress of self-defense he had done him none. The king'sunlooked-for ignorance of his errand, Herbert's honest hasty zeal, thetemper of Boris the hound, had forced on him an act unmeditated andutterly against his interest. His whole guilt lay in preferring theking's death to his own--a crime perhaps in most men, but hardlydeserving a place in Rupert's catalogue. All this I can admit now, buton that night, with the dead body lying there before us, with the storypiteously told by Herbert's faltering voice fresh in our ears, it washard to allow any such extenuation. Our hearts cried out for vengeance,although we ourselves served the king no more. Nay, it may well be thatwe hoped to stifle some reproach of our own consciences by a louderclamor against another's sin, or longed to offer some belated emptyatonement to our dead master by executing swift justice on the man whohad killed him. I cannot tell fully what the others felt, but in me atleast the dominant impulse was to waste not a moment in proclaiming thecrime and raising the whole country in pursuit of Rupert, so that everyman in Ruritania should quit his work, his pleasure, or his bed, andmake it his concern to take the Count of Hentzau, alive or dead. Iremember that I walked over to where Sapt was sitting, and caught him bythe arm, saying:

  "We must raise the alarm. If you'll go to Zenda, I'll start forStrelsau."

  "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 thelookout 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. Saptglanced across at Mr. Rassendyll's servant. James had, with my help,raised the king's body on to the bed, and had aided the woundedforester to reach a couch. He stood now near the constable, in hisusual unobtrusive readiness. He did not speak, but I saw a look ofunderstanding in his eyes as he nodded his head to Colonel Sapt. Theywere well matched, that pair, hard to move, hard to shake, not to beturned from the purpose in their minds and the matter that lay to theirhands.

  "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 (whetherfrom haste or heedlessness or malice, we could not tell), but the letterwas on him. Taken alive, he would use that powerful weapon to save hislife or satisfy his anger; if it were found on his body, its evidencewould speak loud and clear to all the world. Again he was protected byhis crime: while he had the letter, he must be kept inviolate from allattack except at our own hands. We desired his death, but we must behis body-guard and die in his defense rather than let any other butourselves 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 constableand James had never forgotten. But what to do I could not see. For theKing of Ruritania lay dead.

  An hour or more had passed since our discovery, and it was now close onmidnight. Had all gone well we ought by this time to have been far onour road back to the castle; by this time Rupert must be miles away fromwhere he had killed the king; already Mr. Rassendyll would be seekinghis enemy in Strelsau.

  "But what are we to do about--about that, then?" I asked, pointing withmy finger through the doorway towards the bed.

  Sapt gave a last tug at his moustache, then crossed his hands on thehilt 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; itmay become so. But if we can catch Rupert in the next day, or even inthe 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 areknown 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 butreassuring air.

  "Yes, James, I shall be able to make a story, or your master will makeone 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'schair.

  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 aslight moan. I am ashamed to remember how little we thought of him, butgreat schemes make the actors in them careless of humanity; the lifeof a man goes for nothing against a point in the game. Except for hisgroans--and they grew fainter and less frequent--our voices alone brokethe silence of the little lodge.

  "The queen must know," said Sapt. "Let her stay at Zenda and giveout 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 getto Strelsau as quick as you can, and find Rudolf Rassendyll. You threeought 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 himto say where he is; we know Rischenheim can be persuaded. If Rupert'sthere, 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 kingis 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 daresay 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 offeredus four and twenty hours. For that time, at least, it seemed as if thesecret could be kept. Beyond that we could hardly hope for success;after that we must produce the king; dead or alive, the king must beseen. Yet it might be that before the respite ran out Rupert wouldbe ours. In fine, what else could be chosen? For now a greater perilthreatened 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'shands. That could never be. But it would be a worse thing if it werefound on Rupert, and all the kingdom, nay, all Europe, know that itwas written in the hand of her who was now, in her own right, Queen ofRuritania. To save her from that, no chance was too desperate, no schemetoo perilous; yes, if, as Sapt said, we ourselves were held to answerfor the king's death, still we must go on. I, through whose negligencethe 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 ofme--my life and, before the world, my honor.

  So the plan was made. A grave was to be dug ready for the king; if needarose, his body should be laid in it, and the place chosen was under thefloor of the wine-cellar. When death came to poor Herbert, he could liein the yard behind the house; for Boris they medi
tated a resting-placeunder the tree where our horses were tethered. There was nothing tokeep me, and I rose; but as I rose, I heard the forester's voice callplaintively for me. The unlucky fellow knew me well, and now cried tome to sit by him. I think Sapt wanted me to leave him, but I could notrefuse 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 soothehis passing. His fortitude was good to see, and I believe that we allat last found new courage for our enterprise from seeing how this humbleman 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 badethem farewell and mounted my horse. They took theirs and led them awayto the stables behind the lodge; I waved my hand and galloped off on myreturn 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; mynerves were strung to effort and to confidence. My horse moved freelyunder me and carried me easily along the grassy avenues. It was hardthen to be utterly despondent, hard to doubt skill of brain, strength ofhand, or fortune's favor.

  The castle came in sight, and I hailed it with a glad cry that echoedamong the trees. But a moment later I gave an exclamation of surprise,and raised myself a little from the saddle while I gazed earnestly atthe summit of the keep. The flag staff was naked; the royal standardthat had flapped in the wind last night was gone. But by immemorialcustom the flag flew on the keep when the king or the queen was at thecastle. It would fly for Rudolf V. no more; but why did it not proclaimand honor the presence of Queen Flavia? I sat down in my saddle andspurred my horse to the top of his speed. We had been buffeted by fatesorely, but now I feared yet another blow.

  In a quarter of an hour more I was at the door. A servant ran out, andI dismounted leisurely and easily. Pulling off my gloves, I dusted myboots 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 amessage from his Majesty."

  The fellow looked a little puzzled, but at this moment Hermann, theking'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 Icarelessly, though I was very far from careless. "I have a message forher Majesty, Hermann. Find out from some of the women when she willreceive me."

  "The queen's not here," said he. "Indeed we've had a lively time, mylord. At five o'clock she came out, ready dressed, from her room, sentfor Lieutenant von Bernenstein, and announced that she was about to setout 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 thestation."

  "Where for?" I asked, with a shrug for the woman's whim. "Why, forStrelsau. She gave no reasons for going, and took with her only onelady, Lieutenant von Bernenstein being in attendance. It was a bustle,if you like, with everybody to be roused and got out of bed, and acarriage 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 sheordered 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 wasto convey to the king, and that it must be intrusted to nobody exceptColonel Sapt himself. I wonder, my lord, that you didn't notice that theflag was hauled down."

  "Tut, man, I wasn't staring at the keep. Give me the letter." For I sawthat the clue to this fresh puzzle must lie under the cover of Sapt'sletter. That letter I must myself carry to Sapt, and without loss oftime.

  "Give you the letter, my lord? But, pardon me, you're not theconstable." He laughed a little.

  "Why, no," said I, mustering a smile. "It's true that I'm not theconstable, but I'm going to the constable. I had the king's orders torejoin him as soon as I had seen the queen, and since her Majesty isn'there, I shall return to the lodge directly a fresh horse can be saddledfor 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, shewould have told me to carry it to him."

  "I don't know about that, my lord: her orders were plain, and shedoesn'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 thatmy self-control failed, and eagerness was plain in my voice. Plain itwas, and Hermann took alarm. He started back, clapping his hand to thebreast of his laced coat. The gesture betrayed where the letter was; Iwas past prudence; I sprang on him and wrenched his hand away, catchinghim by the throat with my other hand. Diving into his pocket, I got theletter. Then I suddenly loosed hold of him, for his eyes were startingout of his head. I took out a couple of gold pieces and gave them tohim.

  "It's urgent, you fool," said I. "Hold your tongue about it." Andwithout waiting to study his amazed red face, I turned and ran towardsthe stable. In five minutes I was on a fresh horse, in six I was clearof 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 haslong spent the pieces of gold.

  When I reached the end of this second journey, I came in for theobsequies of Boris. James was just patting the ground under the treewith 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 frommy saddle and blurted out my news. The constable snatched at his letterwith an oath; James leveled the ground with careful accuracy; I donot remember doing anything except wiping my forehead and feeling veryhungry.

  "Good Lord, she's gone after him!" said Sapt, as he read. Then he handedme the letter.

  I will not set out what the queen wrote. The purport seemed to us, whodid 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 howwe fared, nor how those in Strelsau; for hours she had lain awake; thenat 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 answernor move. He seemed dead; and I could not rest." So she wrote, everexcusing herself, ever repeating how something drew her to Strelsau,telling her that she must go if she would see "him whom you know," aliveagain. "And I must see him--ah, I must see him! If the king has had theletter, I am ruined already. If he has not, tell him what you will orwhat you can contrive. I must go. It came a second time, and all soplain. I saw him; I tell you I saw him. Ah, I must see him again. Iswear that I will only see him once. He's in danger--I know he's indanger; or what does the dream mean? Bernenstein will go with me, and Ishall 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 thather own troubled brain and desolate heart had conjured up to tormenther. I did not know that she had before told Mr. Rassendyll himself ofthis strange dream; though I lay small store by such matters, believingthat we ourselves make our dreams, fashioning out of the fears andhopes of to-day what seems to come by night in the guise of a mysteriousrevelation. Yet there are some things that a man cannot understand, andI 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. Wehad returned to the house now, and James, remembering that men must eatthough kings die, was getting us some breakfast. In fact, I had greatneed of food, being utterly worn out; and they, after their labors, werehardly less weary. As we ate, we talked; and it was plain to us that Ialso must go to Strelsau. There, in the city, the drama must be playedout. There was Rudolf, there Rischenheim, there in all likelihood Rupertof Hentzau, there now the
queen. And of these Rupert alone, or perhapsRischenheim also, knew that the king was dead, and how the issue of lastnight 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 heldthe secret with solemn faith and ready lives. To Strelsau I must goto tell the queen that she was widowed, and to aim the stroke at youngRupert's heart.

  At nine in the morning I started from the lodge. I was bound to ride toHofbau 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 onlymy own coming, not the news I carried. To Sapt, thanks to the cipher, Icould send word at any time, and he bade me ask Mr. Rassendyll whetherhe should come to our aid, or stay where he was.

  "A day must decide the whole thing," he said. "We can't conceal theking's death long. For God's sake, Fritz, make an end of that youngvillain, and get the letter."

  So, wasting no time in farewells, I set out. By ten o'clock I was atHofbau, for I rode furiously. From there I sent to Bernenstein at thepalace word of my coming. But there I was delayed. There was no trainfor 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 wasnothing for it but to wait, and it may be imagined in what mood Iwaited. Every minute seemed an hour, and I know not to this day howthe hour wore itself away. I ate, I drank, I smoked, I walked, sat, andstood. The stationmaster knew me, and thought I had gone mad, till Itold him that I carried most important despatches from the king, andthat the delay imperiled great interests. Then he became sympathetic;but what could he do? No special train was to be had at a roadsidestation: I must wait; and wait, somehow, and without blowing my brainsout, 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 unutterablewrath, we were stopped, and waited motionless twenty minutes or half anhour. At last we started again; had we not, I should have jumped outand run, for to sit longer would have driven me mad. Now we entered thestation. 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 lazyleisureliness I bade him get me a cab, and followed him across thestation. He held the door for me, and, giving him his douceur, I set myfoot on the step.

  "Tell him to drive to the palace," said I, "and be quick. I'm latealready, thanks to this cursed train."

  "The old mare'll soon take you there, sir," said the driver. I jumpedin. But at this moment I saw a man on the platform beckoning with hishand and hastening towards me. The cabman also saw him and waited. Idared 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'scousin, Anton von Strofzin. He came up, holding out his hand delicatelygloved in pearl-gray kid, for young Anton was a leader of the Strelsaudandies.

  "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 Zendafor a month?"

  "The queen changed her mind suddenly," said I, smiling. "Ladies do, asyou know well, you who know all about them."

  My compliment, or insinuation, produced a pleased smile and a gallanttwirling of his moustache.

  "Well, I thought you'd be here soon," he said, "but I didn't know thatthe queen had come."

  "You didn't? Then why did you look for me?"

  He opened his eyes a little in languid, elegant surprise. "Oh, Isupposed you'd be on duty, or something, and have to come. Aren't you inattendance?"

  "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 onthe king's business."

  "Precisely," said he. "So I thought you'd come, as soon as I heard thatthe king was here."

  It may be that I ought to have preserved my composure. But I am not Saptnor 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 criedto the cabman:

  "To the palace. And drive like the devil!"

  We shot away, leaving Anton open-mouthed in wonder. For me, I sank backon 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 nocomfort. Rudolf Rassendyll was in Strelsau. He had been seen by somebodyand taken for the king. But comfort? What comfort was there, now thatthe 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, Imight well have yielded to despair. For not by the chance, uncertainsight of a passer-by, not by mere rumor which might have been sturdilydenied, not by the evidence of one only or of two, was the king'spresence in the city known. That day, by the witness of a crowd ofpeople, by his own claim and his own voice, ay, and by the assent ofthe 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 mustnow relate the strange and perverse succession of events which forcedthem 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 daredit, in the light of what they did not know it was more fearful and morefatal still.