Rupert of Hentzau: From The Memoirs of Fritz Von Tarlenheim

by Anthony Hope

  CHAPTER XVIII. THE TRIUMPH OF THE KING

  THE things that men call presages, presentiments, and so forth, are,to my mind, for the most part idle nothings: sometimes it is only thatprobable events cast before them a natural shadow which superstitiousfancy twists into a Heaven sent warning; oftener the same desire thatgives conception works fulfilment, and the dreamer sees in the resultof his own act and will a mysterious accomplishment independent of hiseffort. Yet when I observe thus calmly and with good sense on the matterto the Constable of Zenda, he shakes his head and answers, "But RudolfRassendyll knew from the first that he would come again to Strelsau andengage young Rupert point to point. Else why did he practise with thefoils so as to be a better swordsman the second time than he wasthe first? Mayn't God do anything that Fritz von Tarlenheim can'tunderstand? a pretty notion, on my life!" And he goes off grumbling.

  Well, be it inspiration, or be it delusion--and the difference standsoften on a hair's breadth--I am glad that Rudolf had it. For if a manonce grows rusty, it is everything short of impossible to put the finepolish on his skill again. Mr. Rassendyll had strength, will, coolness,and, of course, courage. None would have availed had not his eye been inperfect familiarity with its work, and his hand obeyed it as readilyas the bolt slips in a well-oiled groove. As the thing stood, the litheagility and unmatched dash of young Rupert but just missed being toomuch for him. He was in deadly peril when the girl Rosa ran down tobring him aid. His practised skill was able to maintain his defence. Hesought to do no more, but endured Rupert's fiery attack and wily feintsin an almost motionless stillness. Almost, I say; for the slight turnsof wrist that seem nothing are everything, and served here to keep hisskin whole and his life in him.

  There was an instant--Rudolf saw it in his eyes and dwelt on it when helightly painted the scene for me--when there dawned on Rupert of Hentzauthe knowledge that he could not break down his enemy's guard. Surprise,chagrin, amusement, or something like it, seemed blended in his look.He could not make out how he was caught and checked in every effort,meeting, it seemed, a barrier of iron impregnable in rest. His quickbrain grasped the lesson in an instant. If his skill were not thegreater, the victory would not be his, for his endurance was the less.He was younger, and his frame was not so closely knit; pleasure hadtaken its tithe from him; perhaps a good cause goes for something. Evenwhile he almost pressed Rudolf against the panel of the door, he seemedto know that his measure of success was full. But what the hand couldnot compass the head might contrive. In quickly conceived strategy hebegan to give pause in his attack, nay, he retreated a step or two. Noscruples hampered his devices, no code of honor limited the means hewould employ. Backing before his opponent, he seemed to Rudolf to befaint-hearted; he was baffled, but seemed despairing; he was weary, butplayed a more complete fatigue. Rudolf advanced, pressing and attacking,only to meet a defence as perfect as his own. They were in the middle ofthe room now, close by the table. Rupert, as though he had eyes inthe back of his head, skirted round, avoiding it by a narrow inch. Hisbreathing was quick and distressed, gasp tumbling over gasp, but stillhis eye was alert and his hand unerring. He had but a few moments'more effort left in him: it was enough if he could reach his goal andperpetrate the trick on which his mind, fertile in every base device,was set. For it was towards the mantelpiece that his retreat, seemingforced, in truth so deliberate, led him. There was the letter, therelay the revolvers. The time to think of risks was gone by; the time toboggle over what honor allowed or forbade had never come to Rupert ofHentzau. If he could not win by force and skill, he would win by guileand by treachery, to the test that he had himself invited. The revolverslay on the mantelpiece: he meant to possess himself of one, if he couldgain an instant in which to snatch it.

  The device that he adopted was nicely chosen. It was too late to calla rest or ask breathing space: Mr. Rassendyll was not blind to theadvantage he had won, and chivalry would have turned to folly had itallowed such indulgence. Rupert was hard by the mantelpiece now. Thesweat was pouring from his face, and his breast seemed like to burst inthe effort after breath; yet he had enough strength for his purpose. Hemust have slackened his hold on his weapon, for when Rudolf's blade nextstruck it, it flew from his hand, twirled out of a nerveless grasp, andslid along the floor. Rupert stood disarmed, and Rudolf motionless.

  "Pick it up," said Mr. Rassendyll, never thinking there had been atrick.

  "Ay, and you'll truss me while I do it."

  "You young fool, don't you know me yet?" and Rudolf, lowering his blade,rested its point on the floor, while with his left hand he indicatedRupert's weapon. Yet something warned him: it may be there came a lookin Rupert's eyes, perhaps of scorn for his enemy's simplicity, perhapsof pure triumph in the graceless knavery. Rudolf stood waiting.

  "You swear you won't touch me while I pick it up?" asked Rupert,shrinking back a little, and thereby getting an inch or two nearer themantelpiece.

  "You have my promise: pick it up. I won't wait any longer."

  "You won't kill me unarmed?" cried Rupert, in alarmed scandalizedexpostulation.

  "No; but--"

  The speech went unfinished, unless a sudden cry were its ending. And,as he cried, Rudolf Rassendyll, dropping his sword on the ground, sprangforward. For Rupert's hand had shot out behind him and was on the buttof one of the revolvers. The whole trick flashed on Rudolf, and hesprang, flinging his long arms round Rupert. But Rupert had the revolverin his hand.

  In all likelihood the two neither heard nor heeded, though it seemed tome that the creaks and groans of the old stairs were loud enough to wakethe dead. For now Rosa had given the alarm, Bernenstein and I--or I andBernenstein (for I was first, and, therefore, may put myself first)--hadrushed up. Hard behind us came Rischenheim, and hot on his heels a scoreof fellows, pushing and shouldering and trampling. We in front had afair start, and gained the stairs unimpeded; Rischenheim was caught upin the ruck and gulfed in the stormy, tossing group that struggled forfirst footing on the steps. Yet, soon they were after us, and we heardthem reach the first landing as we sped up to the last. There was aconfused din through all the house, and it seemed now to echo muffledand vague through the walls from the street without. I was conscious ofit, although I paid no heed to anything but reaching the room wherethe king--where Rudolf--was. Now I was there, Bernenstein hanging tomy heels. The door did not hold us a second. I was in, he after me. Heslammed the door and set his back against it, just as the rush of feetflooded the highest flight of stairs. And at the moment a revolver shotrang clear and loud.

  The lieutenant and I stood still, he against the door, I a pace fartherinto the room. The sight we saw was enough to arrest us with its strangeinterest. The smoke of the shot was curling about, but neither manseemed wounded. The revolver was in Rupert's hand, and its muzzlesmoked. But Rupert was jammed against the wall, just by the side ofthe mantelpiece. With one hand Rudolf had pinned his left arm to thewainscoting higher than his head, with the other he held his rightwrist. I drew slowly nearer: if Rudolf were unarmed, I could fairlyenforce a truce and put them on an equality; yet, though Rudolf wasunarmed, I did nothing. The sight of his face stopped me. He was verypale and his lips were set, but it was his eyes that caught my gaze, forthey were glad and merciless. I had never seen him look thus before. Iturned from him to young Hentzau's face. Rupert's teeth were biting hisunder lip, the sweat dropped, and the veins swelled large and blue onhis forehead; his eyes were set on Rudolf Rassendyll. Fascinated, I drewnearer. Then I saw what passed. Inch by inch Rupert's arm curved, theelbow bent, the hand that had pointed almost straight from him and atMr. Rassendyll pointed now away from both towards the window. But itsmotion did not stop; it followed the line of a circle: now it wason Rupert's arm; still it moved, and quicker now, for the power ofresistance grew less. Rupert was beaten; he felt it and knew it, and Iread the knowledge in his eyes. I stepped up to Rudolf Rassendyll. Heheard or felt me, and turned his eyes for an instant. I do not knowwhat my face said, but he shook his head and turned
back to Rupert. Therevolver, held still in the man's own hand, was at his heart. The motionceased, the point was reached.

  I looked again at Rupert. Now his face was easier; there was a slightsmile on his lips; he flung back his comely head and rested thus againstthe wainscoting; his eyes asked a question of Rudolf Rassendyll. Iturned my gaze to where the answer was to come, for Rudolf made none inwords. By the swiftest of movements he shifted his grasp from Rupert'swrist and pounced on his hand. Now his forefinger rested on Rupert's andRupert's was on the trigger. I am no soft-heart, but I laid a hand onhis shoulder. He took no heed; I dared do no more. Rupert glanced atme. I caught his look, but what could I say to him? Again my eyes wereriveted on Rudolf's finger. Now it was crooked round Rupert's, seeminglike a man who strangles another.

  I will not say more. He smiled to the last; his proud head, whichhad never bent for shame, did not bend for fear. There was a suddentightening in the pressure of that crooked forefinger, a flash, a noise.He was held up against the wall for an instant by Rudolf's hand; whenthat was removed he sank, a heap that looked all head and knees.

  But hot on the sound of the discharge came a shout and an oath fromBernenstein. He was hurled away from the door, and through it burstRischenheim and the whole score after him. They were jostling oneanother and crying out to know what passed and where the king was. Highover all the voices, coming from the back of the throng, I heard the cryof the girl Rosa. But as soon as they were in the room, the same spellthat had fastened Bernenstein and me to inactivity imposed its numbingpower on them also. Only Rischenheim gave a sudden sob and ran forwardto where his cousin lay. The rest stood staring. For a moment Rudolfeyed them. Then, without a word, he turned his back. He put out theright hand with which he had just killed Rupert of Hentzau, and took theletter from the mantelpiece. He glanced at the envelope, then he openedthe letter. The handwriting banished any last doubt he had; he torethe letter across, and again in four pieces, and yet again in smallerfragments. Then he sprinkled the morsels of paper into the blaze of thefire. I believe that every eye in the room followed them and watchedtill they curled and crinkled into black, wafery ashes. Thus, at lastthe queen's letter was safe.

  When he had thus set the seal on his task he turned round to us again.He paid no heed to Rischenheim, who was crouching down by the body ofRupert; but he looked at Bernenstein and me, and then at the peoplebehind us. He waited a moment before he spoke; then his utterance wasnot only calm but also very slow, so that he seemed to be choosing hiswords carefully.

  "Gentlemen," said he, "a full account of this matter will be renderedby myself in due time. For the present it must suffice to say that thisgentleman who lies here dead sought an interview with me on privatebusiness. I came here to find him, desiring, as he professed, to desire,privacy. And here he tried to kill me. The result of his attempt yousee."

  I bowed low, Bernenstein did the like, and all the rest followed ourexample.

  "A full account shall be given," said Rudolf. "Now let all leave me,except the Count of Tarlenheim and Lieutenant von Bernenstein."

  Most unwillingly, with gaping mouths and wonder-struck eyes, the throngfiled out of the door. Rischenheim rose to his feet.

  "You stay, if you like," said Rudolf, and the count knelt again by hiskinsman.

  Seeing the rough bedsteads by the wall of the attic, I touchedRischenheim on the shoulder and pointed to one of them. Together welifted Rupert of Hentzau. The revolver was still in his hand, butBernenstein disengaged it from his grasp. Then Rischenheim and I laidhim down, disposing his body decently and spreading over it his ridingcloak, still spotted with the mud gathered on his midnight expedition tothe hunting-lodge. His face looked much as before the shot was fired;in death, as in life, he was the handsomest fellow in all Ruritania. Iwager that many tender hearts ached and many bright eyes were dimmed forhim when the news of his guilt and death went forth. There are ladiesstill in Strelsau who wear his trinkets in an ashamed devotion thatcannot forget. Well, even I, who had every good cause to hate and scornhim, set the hair smooth on his brow; while Rischenheim was sobbing likea child, and young Bernenstein rested his head on his arm as he leant onthe mantelpiece, and would not look at the dead. Rudolf alone seemed notto heed him or think of him. His eyes had lost their unnatural look ofjoy, and were now calm and tranquil. He took his own revolver from themantelpiece and put it in his pocket, laying Rupert's neatly where hishad been. Then he turned to me and said:

  "Come, let us go to the queen and tell her that the letter is beyondreach of hurt."

  Moved by some impulse, I walked to the window and put my head out. Iwas seen from below, and a great shout greeted me. The crowd before thedoors grew every moment; the people flocking from all quarters wouldsoon multiply it a hundred fold; for such news as had been carried fromthe attic by twenty wondering tongues spreads like a forest-fire. Itwould be through Strelsau in a few minutes, through the kingdom inan hour, through Europe in but little longer. Rupert was dead andthe letter was safe, but what were we to tell that great concourseconcerning their king? A queer feeling of helpless perplexity came overme and found vent in a foolish laugh. Bernenstein was by my side; healso looked out, and turned again with an eager face.

  "You'll have a royal progress to your palace," said he to RudolfRassendyll.

  Mr. Rassendyll made no answer, but, coming to me, took my arm. Wewent out, leaving Rischenheim by the body. I did not think of him;Bernenstein probably thought that he would keep his pledge given tothe queen, for he followed us immediately and without demur. There wasnobody outside the door. The house was very quiet, and the tumult fromthe street reached us only in a muffled roar. But when we came to thefoot of the stairs we found the two women. Mother Holf stood on thethreshold of the kitchen, looking amazed and terrified. Rosa wasclinging to her; but as soon as Rudolf came in sight, the girlsprang forward and flung herself on her knees before him, pouring outincoherent thanks to Heaven for his safety. He bent down and spoke toher in a whisper; she looked up with a flush of pride on her face. Heseemed to hesitate a moment; he glanced at his hands, but he woreno ring save that which the queen had given him long ago. Then hedisengaged his chain and took his gold watch from his pocket. Turning itover, he showed me the monogram, R. R.

  "Rudolfus Rex," he whispered with a whimsical smile, and pressed thewatch into the girl's hand, saying: "Keep this to remind you of me."

  She laughed and sobbed as she caught it with one hand, while with theother she held his.

  "You must let go," he said gently. "I have much to do."

  I took her by the arm and induced her to rise. Rudolf, released, passedon to where the old woman stood. He spoke to her in a stern, distinctvoice.

  "I don't know," he said, "how far you are a party to the plot that washatched in your house. For the present I am content not to know, for itis no pleasure to me to detect disloyalty or to punish an old woman. Buttake care! The first word you speak, the first act you do against me,the king, will bring its certain and swift punishment. If you troubleme, I won't spare you. In spite of traitors I am still king inStrelsau."

  He paused, looking hard in her face. Her lip quivered and her eyes fell.

  "Yes," he repeated, "I am king in Strelsau. Keep your hands out ofmischief and your tongue quiet."

  She made no answer. He passed on. I was following, but as I went byher the old woman clutched my arm. "In God's name, who is he?" shewhispered.

  "Are you mad?" I asked, lifting my brows. "Don't you know the king whenhe speaks to you? And you'd best remember what he said. He has servantswho'll do his orders."

  She let me go and fell back a step. Young Bernenstein smiled at her; heat least found more pleasure than anxiety in our position. Thus, then,we left them: the old woman terrified, amazed, doubtful; the girl withruddy cheeks and shining eyes, clasping in her two hands the keepsakethat the king himself had given her.

  Bernenstein had more presence of mind than I. He ran forward, got infront of both of us, and flung the door open. Then,
bowing very low, hestood aside to let Rudolf pass. The street was full from end to end now,and a mighty shout of welcome rose from thousands of throats. Hats andhandkerchiefs were waved in mad exultation and triumphant loyalty. Thetidings of the king's escape had flashed through the city, and all werethere to do him honor. They had seized some gentleman's landau and takenout the horses. The carriage stood now before the doors of the house.Rudolf had waited a moment on the threshold, lifting his hat once ortwice; his face was perfectly calm, and I saw no trembling in his hands.In an instant a dozen arms took gentle hold of him and impelled himforward. He mounted into the carriage; Bernenstein and I followed, withbare heads, and sat on the back seat, facing him. The people were roundas thick as bees, and it seemed as though we could not move withoutcrushing somebody. Yet presently the wheels turned, and they began todrag us away at a slow walk. Rudolf kept raising his hat, bowing now toright, now to left. But once, as he turned, his eyes met ours. In spiteof what was behind and what was in front, we all three smiled.

  "I wish they'd go a little quicker," said Rudolf in a whisper, as heconquered his smile and turned again to acknowledge the loyal greetingsof his subjects.

  But what did they know of any need for haste? They did not know whatstood on the turn of the next few hours, nor the momentous question thatpressed for instant decision. So far from hurrying, they lengthened ourride by many pauses; they kept us before the cathedral, while some ranand got the joy bells set ringing; we were stopped to receive improvisedbouquets from the hands of pretty girls and impetuous hand-shakings fromenthusiastic loyalists. Through it all Rudolf kept his composure, andseemed to play his part with native kingliness. I heard Bernensteinwhisper, "By God, we must stick to it!"

  At last we came in sight of the palace. Here also there was a greatstir. Many officers and soldiers were about. I saw the chancellor'scarriage standing near the portico, and a dozen other handsome equipageswere waiting till they could approach. Our human horses drew us slowlyup to the entrance. Helsing was on the steps, and ran down to thecarriage, greeting the king with passionate fervor. The shouts of thecrowd grew louder still.

  But suddenly a stillness fell on them; it lasted but an instant, andwas the prelude to a deafening roar. I was looking at Rudolf and saw hishead turn suddenly and his eyes grow bright. I looked where his eyeshad gone. There, on the top step of the broad marble flight, stoodthe queen, pale as the marble itself, stretching out her hands towardsRudolf. The people had seen her: she it was whom this last rapturouscheer greeted. My wife stood close behind her, and farther back othersof her ladies. Bernenstein and I sprang out. With a last salute to thepeople Rudolf followed us. He walked up to the highest step but one, andthere fell on one knee and kissed the queen's hand. I was by him, andwhen he looked up in her face I heard him say:

  "All's well. He's dead, and the letter burnt."

  She raised him with her hand. Her lips moved, but it seemed as thoughshe could find no words to speak. She put her arm through his, and thusthey stood for an instant, fronting all Strelsau. Again the cheers rangout, and young Bernenstein sprang forward, waving his helmet and cryinglike a man possessed, "God save the king!" I was carried away by hisenthusiasm and followed his lead. All the people took up the cry withboundless fervor, and thus we all, high and low in Strelsau, thatafternoon hailed Mr. Rassendyll for our king. There had been no suchzeal since Henry the Lion came back from his wars, a hundred and fiftyyears ago.

  "And yet," observed old Helsing at my elbow, "agitators say that thereis no enthusiasm for the house of Elphberg!" He took a pinch of snuff inscornful satisfaction.

  Young Bernenstein interrupted his cheering with a short laugh, but fellto his task again in a moment. I had recovered my senses by now, andstood panting, looking down on the crowd. It was growing dusk and thefaces became blurred into a white sea. Yet suddenly I seemed to discernone glaring up at me from the middle of the crowd--the pale face ofa man with a bandage about his head. I caught Bernenstein's arm andwhispered, "Bauer," pointing with my finger where the face was. But,even as I pointed, it was gone; though it seemed impossible for a man tomove in that press, yet it was gone. It had come like a cynic's warningacross the scene of mock triumph, and went swiftly as it had come,leaving behind it a reminder of our peril. I felt suddenly sick atheart, and almost cried out to the people to have done with their sillyshouting.

  At last we got away. The plea of fatigue met all visitors who made theirway to the door and sought to offer their congratulations; it could notdisperse the crowd that hung persistently and contentedly about, ringingus in the palace with a living fence. We still heard their jests andcheers when we were alone in the small saloon that opens on the gardens.My wife and I had come here at Rudolf's request; Bernenstein had assumedthe duty of guarding the door. Evening was now falling fast, and it grewdark. The garden was quiet; the distant noise of the crowd threw itsstillness into greater relief. Rudolf told us there the story of hisstruggle with Rupert of Hentzau in the attic of the old house, dwellingon it as lightly as he could. The queen stood by his chair--she wouldnot let him rise; when he finished by telling how he had burnt herletter, she stooped suddenly and kissed him off the brow. Then shelooked straight across at Helga, almost defiantly; but Helga ran to herand caught her in her arms.

  Rudolf Rassendyll sat with his head resting on his hand. He looked uponce at the two women; then he caught my eye, and beckoned me to come tohim. I approached him, but for several moments he did not speak. Againhe motioned to me, and, resting my hand on the arm of his chair, I bentmy head close down to his. He glanced again at the queen, seeming afraidthat she would hear what he wished to say.

  "Fritz," he whispered at last, "as soon as it's fairly dark I must getaway. Bernenstein will come with me. You must stay here."

  "Where can you go?"

  "To the lodge. I must meet Sapt and arrange matters with him."

  I did not understand what plan he had in his head, or what scheme hecould contrive. But at the moment my mind was not directed to suchmatters; it was set on the sight before my eyes.

  "And the queen?" I whispered in answer to him.

  Low as my voice was, she heard it. She turned to us with a sudden,startled movement, still holding Helga's hand. Her eyes searched ourfaces, and she knew in an instant of what we had been speaking. A littlelonger still she stood, gazing at us. Then she suddenly sprang forwardand threw herself on her knees before Rudolf, her hands uplifted andresting on his shoulders. She forgot our presence, and everything in theworld, save her great dread of losing him again.

  "Not again, Rudolf, my darling! Not again! Rudolf, I can't bear itagain."

  Then she dropped her head on his knees and sobbed.

  He raised his hand and gently stroked the gleaming hair. But he did notlook at her. He gazed out at the garden, which grew dark and drearyin the gathering gloom. His lips were tight set and his face pale anddrawn.

  I watched him for a moment, then I drew my wife away, and we sat down ata table some way off. From outside still came the cheers and tumult ofthe joyful, excited crowd. Within there was no sound but the queen'sstifled sobbing. Rudolf caressed her shining hair and gazed into thenight with sad, set eyes. She raised her head and looked into his face.

  "You'll break my heart," she said.