The Shadow of Tyburn Tree rb-2

by Dennis Wheatley

  They soon left houses and gardens behind, and were riding through woods of larch and pine. After an hour they came out of the forest onto a high promontory from which there was a magnificent view of the slate-blue fjord. Reining in her Arab, Natalia suggested that they should pause there for a while, so they both dismounted and Roger tied the reins of the horses to a tree stump.

  Although he had not shown it he was still seething inwardly at the dangerous trick she had played him; and as he tied up the horses it occurred to him that it would serve her right if he took the Arab and left her to ride home on the temperamental black. But he dis­missed the thought almost as soon as it came to him, as, quite apart from the physical attraction she had for him, he knew that it was of the utmost importance for his work that he should keep on good terms with her.

  She had seated herself on a fallen tree. As he sat down beside her she took his hand, and said seriously: "Rojé Christprovitch, I am pleased with you. Not many men could ride that black devil as you did, and I am well satisfied with your courage. You have passed the first test with honour."

  "So it was a test, eh?" he laughed. "I wondered if it could be. Yet, if you have a liking for a man, and you say you like me, to put him in the way of breaking his neck is a strange way to show it."

  "But it gives me pleasure to see a brave man face danger," she replied, quite unabashed. "I would that I had been bora a Roman

  Empress; in all time there can have been no sport to compare with watching the gladiators contend in the circus."

  "And what of the wretched Christians? Would you have enjoyed seeing them herded defenceless into the arena to be savaged by wild beasts?"

  She shrugged. "The Christians of those days were like the Masons of our own time; a secret society, propagating among the slaves the criminal doctrine that they were the equals of their masters, and plot­ting against the safety of the state. For such treason they were with justice condemned to death; so what odds does it make if they were strangled in their dungeons or given to the lions?"

  Her callousness repelled him, yet it in no way detracted from her striking good looks, and putting his arm round her waist he said: "What a bloodthirsty little person you are, Natalia Andreovna; but let us talk of pleasanter things. When may I undergo your second test and be proved as to my sensibility?"

  "There is ample time for that," she told him with a smile. "For a little you must be content to attend upon me, so that I can come to know you better." But for the next half-hour she allowed him to kiss and caress her; then they remounted their horses and rode back to the city.

  When they rode into the yard the grooms were waiting to take their horses, but just as he was about to dismount she cried: "One moment, Rojé Christorovitch. Did you find the black, after all, a good ride?"

  "Why, yes," he replied. "She is a fine animal, powerful and with an easy pace. She needs but the firm hand of a practised rider."

  "Take her then, as a gift from me. You have proved yourself worthy of her, and will need a mount during your stay in Stockholm. Ride her away and have her stabled at your inn."

  Roger knew that the mare was as fine a mount .as he had ever ridden and a most valuable animal, so he thanked her effusively for her generosity and, as he rode away, found himself more puzzled than ever as to whether he liked or disliked her. Those green eyes and that slim figure were playing the very devil with his emotions and he decided that he must not let her cruel streak weigh too much against her; since it was no doubt largely due to her nationality and upbringing.

  During the week that followed he called twice on Angdlique de Pons, developed his friendship with Count Hans Axel af Fersan, and found himself well-established as a popular member of the younger set in Stockholm. But between dinners, routs and other entertainments he danced constant attendance on Natalia. He became a familiar figure at the Russian Embassy, and the bull-necked Count Razumofsky now treated him as one of his immediate circle. He learned nothing of importance, but sensed that there was a definite tension in the air, and that the Ambassador regarded the doings of the still-absent King Gustavus with considerable suspicion.

  In the course of the week Roger several times came into collision with Count Yagerhorn, as he too was a frequent visitor at the Embassy. Their mutual dislike increased upon a closer acquaintance, and Natalia Andreovna obviously derived considerable amusement from stimulating their rivalry; but as she maintained her prohibition on the tall, fair pink-faced Finn issuing a challenge, and Roger felt that in the cir­cumstances it was unfair to provoke him, they continued to treat one another with frigid courtesy.

  Whenever occasion offered Roger pressed Natalia to give him an assignation, or at least proceed with her second test; but she would not be hurried, and his affair with her progressed no further until an afternoon nine days after he had first taken her riding.

  By that time they had got to know one another well, and quite apart from her beauty, he ranked her as the most interesting and amus­ing young woman in Stockholm; so he was more eager than ever to bring matters to a head.

  They were walking in the garden, and in the hope of forcing a decision he told her that, so desperate had she made him, unless she was prepared to take pity on him soon he would be driven to the conclusion that she was only playing with him, and, in an endeavour to tear her image from his heart, he would seriously consider leaving Sweden.

  She softened at once, telling him that she liked him greatly, and had come to count upon his society, so she would seek to prove him no further. Then she nodded towards a window on the first-floor at the back of the house, and said: "That is my room; do you think you could climb up there?"

  He gave one glance at the balcony below it, which was supported by the scrolled iron-work of the ground-floor verandah, and laughed. "Indeed I could. Let me do so this very night, my sweet, I beg."

  "So be it," she smiled. "Come to me at midnight, but not a moment before. As to your entry to the grounds, you see that postern-door in the wall over there? I will give you the key of it before you leave."

  On that side of the house the garden-wall ran within twelve feet of the building, and the door, although at right angles to her balcony, was almost beneath it. He saw that once through the door he would have only a dozen paces to take to reach the verandah. It was an admirable arrangement, as he could not possibly lose his way in the darkness, and the risk of running into anyone during so short a passage from the street to her room was infinitesimal. An hour later, on his way back to the inn with the key in his pocket, his senses almost reeled at the thought of the promised delights of the night to come.

  It was not until he was considering what clothes he should wear for his expedition that it suddenly occurred to him that Natalia Andreovna had, after his long siege of her, surrendered at the last somewhat precipitously and only on his threatening to abandon his pursuit of her. Could it be that she did not really mean to receive him after all, but intended instead to play him some scurvy trick, like mounting him on the black horse? Perhaps she would rouse the house pretending to mistake him for a burglar, for the fun of seeing him chased and perhaps beaten by her servants.

  On thinking matters over he decided that his suspicions of her were both unjust and unreasonable. She could be very sweet at times and recently had shown in a dozen small ways that she was fond of him. Moreover she had admitted to having had lovers and, just before he left her, had gone up to her room to fetch the key of the postern gate, suggesting pretty clearly that she had made use of it before for a similar purpose. If she had let others come to her that way in the night, why should she not let him?

  Nevertheless his lingering distrust of her vicious sense of humour led him to take special precautions. He decided to wear loose, dark easy clothes, as they would not only render him as inconspicuous as possible and facilitate his climb up the verandah, but they would also give him a much better chance of getting away and disappearing in the darkness, if she was base enough to have him ambushed for her amusement. More
over, a long sword being an awkward weapon to take to such a rendezvous, he would normally have gone unarmed; but on this occasion he decided to carry a hanger and, going out, bought himself a short, thick-bladed seaman's cutlass, which would not get in his way but prove a good, handy weapon if he were attacked.

  As he buckled it on he was inclined to laugh at his fears, and his optimism recovered, waited with the greatest impatience for mid­night. When it came he was outside the postern door with its key in his hand, yet he deliberately waited for another five minutes before inserting it in the lock. It turned easily and without a sound, showing that the mechanism was well-oiled. He smiled to himself, feeling certain now that others before him had trodden this road to a night of bliss in the young widow's arms, and he would have betted his valuable black mare against a tabby cat that Count Yagerhorn had been among them.

  The night was warm and it was the dark phase of the moon. As he opened the door and slipped through it he was only a blacker patch in the shadow of the wall. Nothing stirred, and he found that the door closed behind him noiselessly, its hinges being as well-oiled as its lock. For a moment he paused with his back against it, looking cautiously round. There was just enough light to discern the outlines of the house and the trees in the garden. Reassured by the utter still­ness he tiptoed forward.

  The latticed iron-work of the verandah was, as he had expected, easy to climb. Barely a minute after leaving the ground he swung himself over the low balcony. In the faint light he could now see that one of the two French windows which gave onto it was standing ajar. Quickly pulling off the gloves he had used to keep his hands free from the dirt on the iron, he thrust them in one of his pockets, and gently pushed the window open.

  "Natalia Andreovna," he whispered.

  As no reply came he stepped inside. The room was almost pitch-dark. A faint light came from its far end outlining a curtained doorway, and this was sufficient to show him the position of a big four-poster bed. As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness he could just make out her head upon the white pillow.

  Tiptoeing forward he whispered her name again. She moved slightly, showing that she was awake, but still made no reply.

  It struck him then that perhaps she was much shyer than he had thought her, or wished to make a pretence at the last moment that she was being taken against her will. Smiling to himself he swiftly slipped out of his loose clothes, stepped up to the bed and, stooping above it, kissed her.

  Her lips responded warmly and her arms closed round his neck. Pulling the sheets back he slipped into bed beside her, and began to murmur little phrases of endearment.

  Without a word she pulled him to her and kissed him again; but with her movement there suddenly came to him a wild, almost incredible notion. Something told him that the woman he was embracing was not Natalia Andreovna.

  Her perfume was that which Natalia affected, and she seemed about the right height; but her breasts were larger and her waist thicker than he had imagined could possibly be the case with the lithe Russian.

  Putting up one hand to caress her hair, he felt it. Natalia's ash-blonde tresses were as smooth and as fine-spun as the sheerest silk; this was much coarser and slightly crinkled.

  Pushing the woman from him, he sat up with a jerk, exclaiming angrily: "What is the meaning of this trick? You are not Natalia Andreovna! Where is she?"

  There came a low laugh from behind the curtain and it was pulled aside, allowing a dim light to seep into the room. Natalia stood framed in the doorway. She was wearing a satin night-robe and her long ash-blonde hair, now parted in the middle, fell like a smooth cascade of silver about her shoulders.

  "Here I am, Rojé Christorovitch," she smiled. "Waiting to make you welcome. Had you had my maid you would never have had me. But you have passed my test for sensibility with as much honour as you did that for courage."

  As Roger gaped at her she spoke in Russian to the woman beside him. He saw now that she was a dark-haired merry-eyed girl of about twenty. At her mistress's order she jumped out of bed, flashed her white teeth at him in a wide grin, and ran giggling past Natalia Andreovna into the next room, which, from what he could see, was a clothes-closet.

  With an enigmatic smile on her thin lips, the uncrowned Queen of Sweden drew the curtain behind her, plunging the room again into near darkness. Then she ran forward with, outstretched arms and, as he caught her, buried her face in his neck.

  In the hours that followed he had no reason for complaint. Having finally made up her mind to give herself the slim Russian did so in no half-hearted manner. All the promise of her strange exotic beauty and the slumberous fires of passion that he had sensed in her were fulfilled. When, as the first streaks of dawn came through the window, he at last rose to leave her, he knew that this was one of the nights of his life that he would always remember.

  Having dressed he bent above her for a last kiss and murmured: "Tell me, my miracle of love, when may I come to thee again?"

  "Be outside the postern gate each night at midnight," she whispered. "If there is a pale light showing from the window of my closet next door, thou mayest take it that I shall be willing to receive thee. If there are full lights in my apartments, or darkness, thou wilt know that I am not in a mood for love. But I warn thee, once again, that even if twenty nights pass without a welcoming signal I still require thee to be faithful to me. And if I have cause to believe that thou art otherwise, I'll give thee good reason to regret thine infidelity."

  "Heaven having sent me the most wondrous mistress in all Stock­holm why should I be fool enough to dally with any woman of lesser calibre?" he replied; and he meant it, too, as he added with a laugh: "For my part, should I suspect thee of favouring another gallant I'll slit his gizzard as surely as a cook would spit a capon for the roast."

  "I like thee the more for that," she laughed back. "Go then; and for what remains of the night sleep well, that thou mayest love me the better when darkness falls once more."

  Roger descended to the garden, reached the street and locked the door behind him, without incident. On his mile walk back to his inn he felt as though he was treading on air. The city was still silent and deserted, seeming almost unreal in the pale dawn light. A gentle breeze from the sea was wafting away the cobwebs of the night and its cool freshness tasted to him as good as champagne.

  He thought of Georgina. It was almost two months since he had parted from her and he wondered if she and her father had gone abroad yet. Not for the first time he thanked her in his heart for having caused him while still a boy to set an extremely high standard for his loves, so that he had not frittered away his manhood in casual, sordid little amours, but always chose his women carefully and took time and trouble to win the very best. He did not think that she would like Natalia Andreovna as a person, but he knew that she would applaud his having won the uncrowned Queen of Sweden for his mistress.

  June came in with glorious weather and Roger's only regret now was that the nights were all too short; particularly as Natalia would not let him come to her every night. After three visits in succession she had told him on the 30th of May that she thought they ought to be content with three or four clandestine meetings a week in future; but that he was to come just the same each night to see if the dim light was in the window of her dress-closet, as she had no wish to make up her mind in advance which nights she would receive him.

  As society in Stockholm did not keep late hours the tie of going every midnight to see if the dim light was offering him a welcome did not seriously interfere with his other enjoyments; and although he had an engagement every evening, during the first half of June he had to slip away early from parties to keep his appointment only on three occasions.

  He had no qualms at all about lingering in the Swedish capital instead of going on to St. Petersburg, where lay the vortex of his mission; since, having become one of Count Razumofsky's circle, he was now admirably placed for acquiring the latest information on international relations between the courts of n
orthern Europe.

  The Count, as Roger soon found, was not of the school of diplomats who believed in finesse. He scorned such tactics, and relied instead on the immense power and prestige of his position as the representative of Her Imperial Majesty, the Czarina of All the Russias. He was a loud­mouthed, blatant bully, who took delight in boasting openly that if King Gustavus had the insolence to play any tricks he would have him off his throne.

  Yet, that the Swedish King was planning something, there could no longer be any doubt. The Russian Ambassador's spies kept him constantly informed of Gustavus's activities and Roger, in his role of a Frenchman and pro-Russian, had only to ask the most casual lead­ing questions on his daily visits to the Embassy, to be given the latest intelligence.

  Early in June he learned that great quantities of barrels contain­ing salt-meat and fish, and other stores, were being secretly despatched from Stockholm to the Fleet base at Karlskrona; but that the King had left there and was now engaged in a tour of inspection of his principal military depots.

  Roger also learned that there was considerable activity in the other camp; particularly among the Finnish nobility. Count Erik Yagerhorn continued to be a daily visitor to the Russian Embassy; and, although he spent much of the time dancing attendance on Natalia, he was frequently closeted with her father, often bringing other Finnish nobles and discontented Swedes with him to these conferences.

  It was soon clear to Roger that the tall, fair Finn was in the pay of Russia, and a prime mover in organising the powerful party in the Riksdagwhich could be counted to oppose the King and veto any measure he might introduce for Sweden to honour her obligation to her Turkish allies.

  Roger's one regret in this connection was that having supplanted Yagerhorn in Natalia Andreovna's affections rendered it impossible for him to cultivate the Finn's acquaintance and thus learn something more concrete of his designs. As it was, whenever they met they either glowered at one another or endeavoured to provoke the fair Russian's amusement by being witty at one another's expense. Roger's tongue being considerably sharper than that of the bovine-looking Count he usually came off best in these encounters, but he knew by the looks he received from the man's hard, pale-blue eyes that he had made of him a most deadly enemy.