CHAPTER V.
The Sin of the Bishop of Modenstein.
In the days of Rudolf III. there stood on the hill opposite the Castleof Zenda, and on the other side of the valley in which the town lies, onthe site where the _chateau_ of Tarlenheim now is situated, a fine andstrong castle belonging to Count Nikolas of Festenburg. He was a nobleof very old and high family, and had great estates; his house being,indeed, second only to the Royal House in rank and reputation. Hehimself was a young man of great accomplishments, of a domineeringtemper, and of much ambition; and he had gained distinction in the warsthat marked the closing years of the reign of King Henry the Lion. WithKing Rudolf he was not on terms of cordial friendship, for he despisedthe King's easy manners and carelessness of dignity, while the King hadno love for a gentleman whose one object seemed to be to surpass andoutshine him in the eyes of his people, and who never rested fromextending and fortifying his castle until it threatened to surpass Zendaitself both in strength and magnificence. Moreover Nikolas, althoughmaintaining a state ample and suitable to his rank, was yet careful andprudent, while Rudolf spent all that he received and more besides, sothat the Count grew richer and the King poorer. But in spite of thesecauses of difference, the Count was received at Court with apparentgraciousness, and no open outburst of enmity had yet occurred, the pairbeing, on the contrary, often together, and sharing their sports andpastimes with one another.
Now most of these diversions were harmless, or, indeed, becoming andproper, but there was one among them full of danger to a man of hot headand ungoverned impulse such as King Rudolf was. And this one wasdiceing, in which the King took great delight, and in which the CountNikolas was very ready to encourage him. The King, who was generous andhated to win from poor men or those who might be playing beyond theirmeans in order to give him pleasure, was delighted to find an opponentwhose purse was as long or longer than his own, and thus gradually cameto pass many evenings with the boxes in Nikolas's company. And the moreevenings he passed the deeper he fell into the Count's debt; for theKing drank wine, while the Count was content with small beer, and whenthe King was losing he doubled his stakes, whereas the Count took insail if the wind seemed adverse. Thus always and steadily the debt grew,till at last Rudolf dared not reckon how large it had become, nor did hedare to disclose it to his advisers. For there were great public burdensalready imposed by reason of King Henry's wars, and the citizens ofStrelsau were not in a mood to bear fresh exaction, nor to give theirhard earnings for the payment of the King's gambling debts; in fine,although they loved the Elphbergs well enough, they loved their moneymore. Thus the King had no resource except in his private possessions,and these were of no great value, saving the Castle and estate of Zenda.
At length, when they had sat late one night and the throws had gone allthe evening against the King and for Nikolas, the King flung himselfback in his chair, drained his glass, and said impatiently:
"I am weary of the game! Come, my lord, let us end it."
"I would not urge you, sire, a moment beyond what you desire. I play butfor your pleasure."
"Then my pleasure has been your profit," said the King with a vexedlaugh, "for I believe I am stripped of my last crown. What is my debt?"
The Count, who had the whole sum reckoned on his tablets, took them out,and shewed the King the amount of the debt.
"I cannot pay it," said Rudolf. "I would play you again, to double thedebt or wipe it out, but I have nothing of value enough to stake."
The desire which had been nursed for long in the Count's heart now sawthe moment of its possible realisation.
He leant over the table, and, smoothing his beard with his hand, saidgently:
"The amount is no more than half the value of your Majesty's Castle anddemesne of Zenda."
The King started and forced a laugh.
"Aye, Zenda spoils the prospect from Festenburg, does it?" said he. "ButI will not risk Zenda. An Elphberg without Zenda would seem like a manrobbed of his wife. We have had it since we have had anything or beenanything. I should not seem King without it."
"As you will, sire. Then the debt stands?" He looked full and keenlyinto the King's eyes, asking without words, "How will you pay it?" andadding without words, "Paid it must be." And the King read the unspokenwords in the eyes of Count Nikolas.
The King took up his glass, but finding it empty flung it angrily on thefloor, where it shivered into fragments at Count Nikolas's feet; and heshifted in his chair and cursed softly under his breath. Nikolas satwith the dice-box in his hand and a smile on his lips; for he knew thatthe King could not pay, and therefore must play, and he was in the vein,and did not doubt of winning from the King Zenda and its demesne. Thenhe would be the greatest lord in the kingdom, and hold for his own akingdom within the kingdom, and the two strongest places in all theland. And a greater prize might then dangle in reach of his grasp.
"The devil spurs and I gallop," said the King at last. And he took upthe dice-box and rattled it.
"Fortune will smile on you this time, sire, and I shall not grieve atit," said Count Nikolas with a courteous smile.
"Curses on her!" cried the King. "Come, my lord, a quick ending to it!One throw, and I am a free man, or you are master of my castle."
"One throw let it be, sire, for it grows late," assented Nikolas with acareless air; and they both raised the boxes and rattled the dice insidethem. The King threw; his throw was a six and a five, and a sudden gleamof hope lit up his eyes; he leant forward in his chair, gripping theelbows of it with his hands; his cheeks flushed and his breath camequickly. With a bow Count Nikolas raised his hand and threw. The dicefell and rolled on the table. The King sank back; and the Count saidwith a smile of apology and a shrug of his shoulders:
"Indeed I am ashamed. For I cannot be denied to-night."
For Count Nikolas of Festenburg had thrown sixes, and thereby won fromthe King the Castle and demesne of Zenda.
He rose from his chair, and, having buckled on his sword that had lainon the table by him, and taking his hat in his hand, stood looking downon the King with a malicious smile on his face. And he said with a lookthat had more mockery than respect in it:
"Have I your Majesty's leave to withdraw? For ere day dawn, I havematters to transact in Strelsau, and I would be at my Castle of Zendato-night."
Then King Rudolf took a sheet of paper and wrote an order that theCastle, and all that was in it, and all the demesne should besurrendered to Count Nikolas of Festenburg on his demand, and he gavethe paper to Nikolas. Then he rose up and held out his hand, whichNikolas kissed, smiling covertly, and the King said with grace anddignity:
"Cousin, my Castle has found a more worthy master. God give you joy ofit."
And he motioned with his hand to be left alone. Then, when the Count hadgone, he sat down in his chair again, and remained there till it wasfull day, neither moving nor yet sleeping. There he was found by hisgentlemen when they came to dress him, but none asked him what hadpassed.
Count Nikolas, now Lord of Zenda, did not so waste time, and the mattersthat he had spoken of did not keep him long in Strelsau; but in theearly morning he rode out, the paper which the King had written in hisbelt.
First he rode with all speed to his own house of Festenburg, and therehe gathered together all his followers, servants, foresters, and armedretainers, and he told them that they were to ride with him to Zenda,for that Zenda was now his and not the King's. At this they were greatlyastonished, but they ate the fine dinner and drank the wine which heprovided, and in the evening they rode down the hill very merry, andtrotted, nearly a hundred strong, through the town, making a greatnoise, so that they disturbed the Bishop of Modenstein, who was lyingthat night at the inn in the course of a journey from his See to theCapital; but nobody could tell the Bishop why they rode to Zenda, andpresently the Bishop, being wearied with travelling, went to his bed.
Now King Rudolf, in his chagrin and dismay, had himself forgott
en, orhad at least neglected to warn the Count of Festenburg, that his sisterPrincess Osra was residing at the Castle of Zenda; for it was herfavourite resort, and she often retired from the Court and spent manydays there alone. There she was now with two of her ladies, a smallretinue of servants, and no more than half a dozen Guards; and whenCount Nikolas came to the gate, it being then after nine, she had goneto her own chamber, and sat before the mirror, dressed in a loose whitegown, with her ruddy hair unbound and floating over her shoulders. Shewas reading an old story book, containing tales of Helen of Troy, ofCleopatra, of Berenice, and other lovely ladies, very elegantly relatedand embellished with fine pictures. And the Princess, being very muchabsorbed in the stories, did not hear nor notice the arrival of theCount's company, but continued to read, while Nikolas roused thewatchmen, and the bridge was let down, and the steward summoned. ThenNikolas took the steward aside, and shewed him the King's order, bearingthe King's seal, and the steward, although both greatly astonished andgreatly grieved, could not deny the letter or the seal, but declaredhimself ready to obey and to surrender the Castle; and the sergeant incommand of the Guard said the same; but, they added, since the Princesswas in the Castle, they must inform her of the matter, and take hercommands.
"Aye, do," said Nikolas, sitting down in the great hall. "Tell her notto be disturbed, but to give me the honour of being her host for as longas she will, and say that I will wait on her, if it be her pleasure."
But he smiled to think of the anger and scorn with which Osra wouldreceive the tidings when the steward delivered them to her.
In this respect the event did not fall short of his expectations, forshe was so indignant and aghast that, thinking of nothing but thetidings, she flung away the book and cried: "Send the Count here to me,"and stood waiting for him there in her chamber, in her white gown andwith her hair unbound and flowing down over her shoulders. And when hecame she cried: "What is this, my lord?" and listened to his story withparted lips and flashing eyes, and thus read the King's letter and sawthe King's seal. And her eyes filled with tears, but she dashed themaway with her hand. Then the Count said, bowing to her as mockingly ashe had bowed to her brother:
"It is the fortune of the dice, madame."
"Yes, my lord, as you play the game," said she.
His eyes were fixed on her, and it seemed to him that she was morebeautiful in her white gown and with her hair unbound over hershoulders, than he had ever felt her to be before, and he eyed herclosely. Suddenly she looked at him, and for a moment he averted hiseyes; but he looked again and her eyes met his. For several moments shestood rigid and motionless. Then she said:
"My lord, the King has lost the Castle of Zenda, which is the home andcradle of our House. It was scarcely the King's alone to lose. Have I notitle in it?"
"It was the King's, madame, and now it is mine," smiled Nikolas.
"Well, then, it is yours," said she, and taking a step towards him, shesaid: "Have you a mind to venture it again, my lord?"
"I would venture it only against a great stake," said he, smiling still,while his eyes were fixed on her face and marked every change in thecolour of her cheeks.
"I can play dice as well as the King," she cried. "Are we not allgamblers, we Elphbergs?" And she laughed bitterly.
"But what would your stake be?" he asked sneeringly.
Princess Osra's face was now very pale, but her voice did not trembleand she did not flinch; for the honour of her House and of the thronewas as sacred to her as her salvation, and more than her happiness.
"A stake, my lord," said she, "that many gentlemen have thought aboveany castle in preciousness."
"Of what do you speak?" he asked, and his voice quivered a little, as aman's does in excitement. "For, pardon me, madame, but what have you ofsuch value?"
"I have what the poorest girl has, and it is of the value that itpleased God to make it and pleases men to think it," said Osra. "And allof it I will stake against the King's Castle of Zenda and its demesne."
Count Nikolas's eyes flashed and he drew nearer to her; he took hisdice-box from his pocket, and he held it up before her, and he whisperedin an eager hoarse voice:
"Name this great stake, madame; what is it?"
"It is myself, my lord," said Princess Osra.
"Yourself?" he cried wondering, though he had half guessed.
"Aye. To be the Lord of Zenda is much. Is it not more to be husband tothe King's sister?"
"It is more," said he, "when the King's sister is the Princess Osra."And he looked at her now with open admiration. But she did not heed hisglance, but with face pale as death she seized a small table and drew itbetween them and cried: "Throw then, my lord! We know the stakes."
"If you win, Zenda is yours. If I win, you are mine."
"Yes, I and Zenda also," said she. "Throw, my lord!"
"Shall we throw thrice, madame, or once, or how often?"
"Thrice, my lord," she answered, tossing back her hair behind her neck,and holding one hand to her side. "Throw first," she added.
The Count rattled the box; and the throw was seven. Osra took the boxfrom him, looked keenly and defiantly in his eyes, and threw.
"Fortune is with you, madame," said he, biting his lips. "For a five anda four make nine, or I err greatly."
He took the box from her; his hand shook, but hers was firm and steady;and again he threw.
"Ah, it is but five," said he impatiently, and a frown settled on hisbrow.
"It is enough, my lord," said Osra; and pointed to the dice that she hadthrown, a three and a one.
The Count's eyes gleamed again; he sprang towards her, and was about toseize the box. But he checked himself suddenly, and bowed, saying:
"Throw first this time, I pray you, madame, if it be not disagreeable toyou."
"I do not care which way it is," said Osra, and she shook and made herthird cast. When she lifted the box, the face of the dice showed seven.A smile broadened on the Count's lips, for he thought surely he couldbeat seven, he that had beaten eleven and thereby won the Castle ofZenda, which now he staked against the Princess Osra. But his eyes werevery keenly and attentively on her, and he held the box poised,shoulder-high, in his right hand.
Then a sudden faintness and sickness seized on the Princess, and thecomposure that had hitherto upheld her failed; she could not meet hisglance, nor could she bear to see the fall of the dice; but she turnedaway her head before he threw, and stood thus with averted face. But hekept attentive eyes on her, and drew very near to the table so that hestood right over it. And the Princess Osra caught sight of her own facein the mirror, and started to see herself pallid and ghastly, and herfeatures drawn as though she were suffering some great pain. Yet sheuttered no sound.
The dice rattled in the box; they rattled on the table; there was apause while a man might quickly count a dozen; and then Count Nikolas ofFestenburg cried out in a voice that trembled and tripped over thewords:
"Eight, eight, eight!"
But before the last of the words had left his shaking lips, the PrincessOsra faced round on him like lightning. She raised her hand so that theloose white sleeve fell back from her rounded arm, and her eyes flashed,and her lips curled as she outstretched her arm at him, and cried:
"Foul play!"
For, as she watched her own pale face in the mirror--the mirror whichCount Nikolas had not heeded--she had seen him throw, she had seen himstand for an instant over the dice he had thrown with gloomy andmaddened face; and then she had seen a slight swift movement of his lefthand, as his fingers deftly darted down and touched one of the dice andturned it. And all this she had seen before he had cried eight.Therefore now she turned on him, and cried, "Foul play!" and before hecould speak, she darted by him towards the door. But he sprang forward,and caught her by the arm above the wrist and gripped her, and hisfingers bit into the flesh of her arm, as he gasped, "You lie! Where areyou going?" But her voice rang out clear and loud in answer:
"I am going to tell all the wo
rld that Zenda is ours again, and I amgoing to publish in every city in the kingdom that Count Nikolas ofFestenburg is a common cheat and rogue, and should be whipped at thecart's tail through the streets of Strelsau. For I saw you in themirror, my lord, I saw you in the mirror!" And she ended with a wildlaugh that echoed through the room.
Still he gripped her arm, and she did not flinch; for an instant helooked full in her eyes; covetousness, and desire, and shame, came alltogether upon him, and over-mastered him, and he hissed between setteeth:
"You shan't! By God, you shan't!"
"Aye, but I will, my lord," said Osra. "It is a fine tale for the Kingand for your friends in Strelsau."
An instant longer he held her where she was; and he gasped and lickedhis lips. Then he suddenly dragged her with him towards a couch; seizingup a coverlet that lay on the couch he flung it around her, and hefolded it tight about her, and he drew it close over her face. She couldnot cry out nor move. He lifted her up and swung her over his shoulder,and, opening the door of the room, dashed down the stairs towards thegreat hall.
In the great hall were six of the King's Guard, and some of the servantsof the Castle, and many of the people who had come with Count Nikolas;they all sprang to their feet when they saw them. He took no heed ofthem, but rushed at a run through the hall, and out under the portcullisand across the bridge, which had not been raised since he entered. Thereat the end of the bridge a lackey held his horse; and he leapt on hishorse, setting one hand on the saddle, and still holding Osra; and thenhe cried aloud:
"My men follow me! To Festenburg!"
And all his men ran out, the King's Guard doing nothing to hinder them,and jumping on their horses and setting them at a gallop, hurried afterthe Count. He, riding furiously, turned towards the town of Zenda, andthe whole company swept down the hill, and, reaching the town, clatteredand dashed through it at full gallop, neither drawing rein nor turningto right or left; and again they roused the Bishop of Modenstein, and heturned in his bed, wondering what the rush of mounted men meant. Butthey, galloping still, climbed the opposite hill and came to the Castleof Festenburg with their horses spent and foundered. In they allcrowded, close on one another's heels; the bridge was drawn up; andthere in the entrance they stood looking at one another, asking mutelywhat their master had done, and who was the lady whom he carried wrappedin the coverlet. But he ran on till he reached the stairs, and heclimbed them, and entering a room in the gate-tower, looking over themoat, he laid the Princess Osra on a couch, and standing over her hesmote one hand upon the other, and he swore loudly:
"Now, as God lives, Zenda I will have, and her I will have, and it shallbe her husband whom she must, if she will, proclaim a cheat inStrelsau!"
Then he bent down and lifted the coverlet from her face. But she did notstir nor speak, nor open her eyes. For she had fallen into a swoon asthey rode, and did not know what had befallen her, nor where she hadbeen brought, nor that she was now in the Castle of Festenburg, and inthe power of a desperate man. Thus she lay still and white, while CountNikolas stood over her and bit his nails in rage. And it was then juston midnight.
On being disturbed for the third time, the Bishop of Modenstein, whosetemper was hot and cost him continual prayers and penances from themastery it strove to win over him, was very impatient; and since he wasat once angry and half asleep, it was long before he could or wouldunderstand the monstrous news with which his terrified host cametrembling and quaking to his bedside in the dead of the night. Aservant-girl, stammered the frightened fellow, had run down half dressedand panting from the Castle of Zenda, and declared that whether theychose to believe her or not--and, indeed, she could hardly believe sucha thing herself, although she had seen it with her own eyes from her ownwindow--yet Count Nikolas of Festenburg had come to the Castle thatevening, had spoken with Princess Osra, and now (they might call her aliar if they chose) had carried off the Princess with him on his horseto Festenburg, alive or dead none knew, and the men-servants were amazedand terrified, and the soldiers were at their wits' end, talking big andthreatening to bring ten thousand men from Strelsau and to leave not onestone upon another at Festenburg, and what not. But all the while andfor all their big talk nothing was done; and the Princess was atFestenburg, alive or dead or in what strait none knew. And, finally,nobody but one poor servant-girl had had the wit to run down and rousethe town.
The Bishop of Modenstein sat up in his bed and he fairly roared at theinnkeeper:
"Are there no men, then, who can fight in the town, fool?"
"None, none, my lord--not against the Count. Count Nikolas is a terribleman. Please God, he has not killed the Princess by now."
"Saddle my horse," said the Bishop, "and be quick with it."
And he leapt out of bed with sparkling eyes. For the Bishop was a youngman, but a little turned of thirty, and he was a noble of the old Houseof Hentzau. Now some of the Hentzaus (of whom history tells us of many)have been good, and some have been bad; and the good fear God, while thebad do not; but neither the good nor the bad fear anything in the worldbesides. Hence, for good or ill, they do great deeds and risk theirlives as another man risks a penny. So the Bishop, leaving his bed,dressed himself in breeches and boots, and set a black hat with a violetfeather on his head, and, staying to put on nothing else but his shirtand his cloak over it, in ten minutes was on his horse at the door ofthe inn. For a moment he looked at a straggling crowd that had gatheredthere; then with a toss of his head and a curl of his lip he told themwhat he thought of them, saying openly that he thanked heaven they werenot of his diocese, and in an instant he was galloping through thestreets of the town towards the Castle of Festenburg, with his sword byhis side and a brace of pistols in the holsters of the saddle. Thus heleft the gossipers and vapourers behind, and rode alone as he was up thehill, his blood leaping and his heart beating quick; for, as he went, hesaid to himself:
"It is not often a Churchman has a chance like this."
On the stroke of half-past twelve he came to the bridge of the Castlemoat, and the bridge was up. But the Bishop shouted, and the watchmancame out and stood in the gateway across the moat, and, the night beingfine and clear, he presented an excellent aim.
"My pistol is straight at your head," cried the Bishop, "let down thebridge. I am Frederick of Hentzau; that is, I am the Bishop ofModenstein, and I charge you, if you are a dutiful son of the Church, toobey me. The pistol is full at your head."
The watchman knew the Bishop, but he also knew the Count his master.
"I dare not let down the bridge without an order from my lord," hefaltered.
"Then before you can turn round, you're a dead man," said the Bishop.
"Will you hold me harmless with my lord, if I let it down?"
"Aye, he shall not hurt you. But if you do not immediately let it down,I'll shoot you first and refuse you Christian burial afterwards. Come,down with it."
So the watchman, fearing that, if he refused, the Bishop would spareneither body nor soul, but would destroy the one and damn the other, letdown the bridge, and the Bishop, leaping from his horse, ran across withhis drawn sword in one hand and a pistol in the other. Walking into thehall, he found a great company of Count Nikolas's men, drinking with oneanother, but talking uneasily and seeming alarmed. And the Bishop raisedthe hand that held the sword above his head in the attitude ofbenediction, saying, "Peace be with you!"
Most of them knew him by his face, and all knew him as soon as a comradewhispered his name, and they sprang to their feet, uncovering theirheads and bowing. And he said:
"Where is your master the Count?"
"The Count is upstairs, my lord," they answered. "You cannot see himnow."
"Nay, but I will see him," said the Bishop.
"We are ordered to let none pass," said they, and although their mannerwas full of respect, they spread themselves across the hall, and thusbarred the way to the staircase that rose in the corner of the hall. Butthe Bishop faced them in great anger, crying:
&
nbsp; "Do you think I do not know what has been done? Are you all, then,parties in this treachery? Do you all want to swing from the turrets ofthe Castle when the King comes with a thousand men from Strelsau?"
At this they looked at him and at one another with great uneasiness; forthey knew that the King had no mercy when he was roused, and that heloved his sister above everybody in the world. And the Bishop stepped upclose to their rank. Then one of them drew his sword half-way from itsscabbard. But the Bishop, perceiving this, cried:
"Do you all do violence to a lady, and dare to lay hands on the King'ssister? Aye, and here is a fellow that would strike a Bishop of God'sChurch!" And he caught the fellow a buffet with the flat of his sword,that knocked him down, "Let me pass, you rogues," said the Bishop. "Doyou think you can stop a Hentzau?"
"Let us go and tell the Count that my lord the Bishop is here," criedthe house-steward, thinking that he had found a way out of thedifficulty; for they dared neither to touch the Bishop nor yet to lethim through; and the steward turned to run towards the staircase. Butthe Bishop sprang after him, quick as an arrow, and, dropping the pistolfrom his left hand, caught him by the shoulder and hurled him back. "Iwant no announcing," he said. "The Church is free to enter everywhere."And he burst through them at the point of the sword, reckless now whatmight befall him so that he made his way through. But they did notventure to cut him down; for they knew that nothing but death would stophim, and for their very souls' sake they dared not kill him. So he,kicking one and pushing another and laying about him with the flat ofhis sword and with his free hand, and reminding them all the while oftheir duty to the Church and of his sacred character, at last made hisway through and stood alone, unhurt, at the foot of the staircase, whilethey cowered by the walls or looked at him in stupid helplessness andbewilderment. And the Bishop swiftly mounted the stairs.
At this instant in the room in the gate-tower of the Castle overlookingthe moat there had fallen a moment of dead silence. Here Count Nikolashad raised the Princess, set her on a couch, and waited till herfaintness and fright were gone. Then he had come near to her, and inbrief harsh tones told her his mind. For him, indeed, the dice were nowcast; in his fury and fear he had dared all. He was calm now, with thecalmness of a man at a great turn of fate. That room, he told her, sheshould never leave alive, save as his promised wife, sworn and held tosecrecy and silence by the force of that bond and of her oath. If hekilled her he must die, whether by his own hand or the King's matteredlittle. But he would die for a great cause and in a great venture. "Ishall not be called a cheating gamester, madame," said he, a smile onhis pale face. "I choose death sooner than disgrace. Such is my choice.What is yours? It stands between death and silence; and no man but yourhusband will dare to trust your silence."
"You do not dare to kill me," said she defiantly.
"Madame, I dare do nothing else. They may write 'murderer' on my tomb;they shall not throw 'cheat' in my living face."
"I will not be silent," cried Osra, springing to her feet. "And ratherthan be your wife I would die a thousand times. For a cheat you are--acheat--a cheat!" Her voice rose, till he feared that she would be heard,if any one chanced to listen, even from so far off as the hall. Yet hemade one more effort, seeking to move her by an appeal to which womenare not wont to be insensible.
"A cheat, yes!" said he. "I, Nikolas of Festenburg, am a cheat. I sayit, though no other man shall while I live to hear him. But to gain whatstake?"
"Why, my brother's Castle of Zenda."
"I swear to you it was not," he cried, coming nearer to her. "I did notfear losing on the cast, but I could not endure not to win. Not mystake, madame, but yours lured me to my foul play. Have you your face,and yet do not know to what it drives men?"
"If I have a fair face, it should inspire fair deeds," said she. "Do nottouch me, sir, do not touch me. I loathe breathing the same air withyou, or so much as seeing your face. Aye, and I can die. Even the womenof our House know how to die."
At her scorn and contempt a great rage came upon him, and he gripped thehilt of his sword, and drew it from the scabbard. But she stood still,facing him with calm eyes. Her lips moved for a moment in prayer, butshe did not shrink.
"I pray you," said he in trembling speech, mastering himself for aninstant, "I pray you!" But he could say no more.
"I will cry your cheating in all Strelsau," said she.
"Then commend your soul to God. For in one minute you shall die."
Still she stood motionless; and he began to come near to her, his swordnow drawn in his hand. Having come within the distance from which hecould strike her, he paused and gazed into her eyes. She answered himwith a smile. Then there was for an instant the utter stillness in theroom; and in that instant the Bishop of Modenstein set his foot on thestaircase and came running up. On a sudden Osra heard the step, and agleam flashed in her eye. The Count heard it also, and his sword wasarrested in its stroke. A smile came on his face. He was glad at thecoming of some one whom he might kill in fight; for it turned him sickto butcher her unresisting. Yet he dared not let her go, to cry hischeating in the streets of Strelsau. The steps came nearer.
He dropped his sword on the floor and sprang upon her. A shriek rangout, but he pressed his hand on her mouth and seized her in his arms.She had no strength to resist, and he carried her swiftly across theroom to a door in the wall. He pulled the door open--it was very heavyand massive--and he flung her down roughly on the stone floor of alittle chamber, square and lofty, having but one small window high up,through which the moonlight scarcely pierced. She fell with a moan ofpain. Unheeding, he turned on his heel and shut the door. And, as heturned, he heard a man throw himself against the door of the room. Italso was strong and twice the man hurled himself with all his forceagainst it. At last it strained and gave way; and the Bishop ofModenstein burst into the room breathless. And he saw no trace of thePrincess's presence, but only Count Nikolas standing sword in hand infront of the door in the wall with a sneering smile on his face.
The Bishop of Modenstein never loved to speak afterwards of whatfollowed, saying always that he rather deplored than gloried in it, andthat when a man of sacred profession was forced to use the weapons ofthis world it was a matter of grief to him, not of vaunting. But theKing compelled him by urgent requests to describe the whole affair,while the Princess was never weary of telling all that she knew, or ofblessing all bishops for the sake of the Bishop of Modenstein. Yet theBishop blamed himself; perhaps, if the truth were known, not for thenecessity that drove him to do what he did, as much as for a secret andashamed joy which he detected in himself. For certainly, as he burstinto the room now, there was no sign of reluctance or unwillingness inhis face; he took off his feathered hat, bowed politely to the Count,and resting the point of his sword on the floor, asked:
"My lord, where is the Princess?"
"'MY LORD, WHERE IS THE PRINCESS?'"--_Page 160._]
"What do you want here, and who are you?" cried the Count with ablasphemous oath.
"When we were boys together, you knew Frederick of Hentzau. Do you notnow know the Bishop of Modenstein?"
"Bishop! This is no place for bishops. Get back to your prayers, mylord."
"It wants some time yet before matins," answered the Bishop. "My lord,where is the Princess?"
"What do you want with her?"
"I am here to escort her wherever it may be her pleasure to go."
He spoke confidently, but he was in his heart alarmed and uneasy becausehe had not found the Princess.
"I do not know where she is," said Nikolas of Festenburg.
"My lord, you lie," said the Bishop of Modenstein.
The Count had wanted nothing but an excuse for attacking the intruder.He had it now, and an angry flush mounted in his cheeks as he walkedacross to where the Bishop stood.
Shifting his sword, which he had picked up again, to his left hand, hestruck the Bishop on the face with his gloved hand. The Bishop smiledand turned the other cheek to Count Nikola
s, who struck again with allhis force, so that he reeled back, catching hold of the open door toavoid falling, and the blood started dull red under the skin of hisface. But he still smiled, and bowed, saying:
"I find nothing about the third blow in Holy Scripture."
At this instant the Princess Osra, who had been half stunned by theviolence with which Nikolas had thrown her on the floor, came to herfull senses and, hearing the Bishop's voice, she cried out loudly forhelp. He, hearing her, darted in an instant across the room, and was atthe door of the little chamber before the Count could stop him. Hepulled the door open and Osra sprang out to him, saying:
"Save me! Save me!"
"You are safe, madame, have no fear," answered the Bishop. And turningto the Count, he continued: "Let us go outside, my lord, and discussthis matter. Our dispute will disturb and perhaps alarm the Princess."
And a man might have read the purpose in his eyes, though his manner andwords were gentle; for he had sworn in his heart that the Count shouldnot escape.
But the Count cared as little for the presence of the Princess as he hadfor her dignity, her honour, or her life: and now that she was no longerwholly at his mercy, but there was a new chance that she might escape,his rage and the fear of exposure lashed him to fury, and, without moretalking, he made at the Bishop, crying:
"You first, and then her! I'll be rid of the pair of you?"
The Bishop faced him, standing between Princess Osra and his assault,while she shrank back a little, sheltering herself behind the heavydoor. For although she had been ready to die without fear, yet the sightof men fighting frightened her, and she veiled her face with her hands,and waited in dread to hear the sound of their swords clashing. But theBishop looked very happy, and, setting his hat on his head with a jauntyair, he stood on guard. For ten years or more he had not used his sword,but the secret of its mastery seemed to revive, fresh and clear in hismind, and let his soul say what it would, his body rejoiced to be at theexercise again, so that his blood kindled and his eyes gleamed in theglee of strife. Thus he stepped forward, guarding himself, and thus hemet the Count's impetuous onset; he neither flinched nor gave back, butfinding himself holding his own, he pressed on and on, not violentlyattacking and yet never resting, and turning every thrust with a wristof iron. And while Osra now gazed with wide eyes and close-held breath,and Count Nikolas muttered oaths and grew more furious, the Bishopseemed as gay as when he talked to the King, more gaily, may be, thanBishops should. Again his eye danced as in the days when he had beencalled the wildest of the Hentzaus. And still he drove Count Nikolasback and back.
Now behind the Count was a window, which he himself had caused to beenlarged and made low and wide, in order that he might look from it overthe surrounding country; in time of war it was covered with a close andstrong iron grating. But now the grating was off and the window open,and beneath the window was a fall of fifty feet or hard upon it into themoat below. The Count, looking into the Bishop's face, and seeing himsmile, suddenly recollected the window, and fancied it was the Bishop'sdesign to drive him on to it so that he could give back no more; and,since he knew by now that the Bishop was his master with the sword, adespairing rage settled upon him; determining to die swiftly, since diehe must, he rushed forward, making a desperate lunge at his enemy. Butthe Bishop parried the lunge, and, always seeming to be about to run theCount through the body, again forced him to retreat till his back wasclose to the opening of the window. Here Nikolas stood, his eyes glaringlike a madman's; then a sudden devilish smile spread over his face.
"Will you yield yourself, my lord?" cried the Bishop, putting arestraint on the wicked impulse to kill the man, and lowering his pointfor an instant.
"HE DROVE HIS SWORD INTO HIS BODY, AND THE COUNT GAVEBACK BEFORE IT."--_Page 165_]
In that short moment the Count made his last throw; for all at once, asit seemed, and almost in one motion, he thrust and wounded the Bishop inthe left side of his body, high in the chest near the shoulder, and,though the wound was slight, the blood flowed freely; then drawing backhis sword, he seized it by the blade half-way up and flung it like ajavelin at the Princess, who stood still by the door, breathlesslywatching the fight. By an ace it missed her head, and it pinned a tressof her hair to the door and quivered deep-set in the wood of the door.When the Bishop of Modenstein saw this, hesitation and mercy passed outof his heart, and though the man had now no weapon, he thought ofsparing him no more than he would have spared any cruel and savagebeast, but he drove his sword into his body, and the Count, not beingable to endure the thrust without flinching, against his own will gaveback before it. Then came from his lips a loud cry of dismay anddespair; for at the same moment that the sword was in him he, staggeringback, fell wounded to death through the open window. The Bishop lookedout after him, and Princess Osra heard the sound of a great splash inthe water of the moat below; for very horror she sank against the door,seeming to be held up more by the sword that had pinned her hair than byher own strength. Then came up through the window, from which the Bishopstill looked with a strange smile, the clatter of a hundred feet,running to the gate of the Castle. The bridge was let down; the confusedsound of many men talking, of whispers, of shouts, and of cries ofhorror, mounted up through the air. For the Count's men in the hall alsohad heard the splash, and run out to see what it was, and there theybeheld the body of their master, dead in the moat; their eyes were wideopen, and they could hardly lay their tongues to the words as theypointed to the body and whispered to one another, very low: "The Bishophas killed him--the Bishop has killed him." But the Bishop saw them fromthe window, and leant out, crying:
"Yes, I have killed him. So perish all such villains!"
When they looked up, and saw in the moonlight the Bishop's face, theywere amazed. But he hastily drew his head in, so that they might not seehim any more. For he knew that his face had been fierce, and exultant,and joyful. Then, dropping his sword, he ran across to the Princess; hedrew the Count's sword, which was wet with his own blood, out of thedoor, releasing the Princess's hair; and, seeing that she was veryfaint, he put his arm about her, and led her to the couch; she sank uponit, trembling and white as her white gown, and murmuring: "Fearful,fearful!" and she clutched his arm, and for a long while she would notlet him go; and her eyes were fixed on the Count's sword that lay on thefloor by the entrance of the little room.
"Courage, madame," said the Bishop softly. "All danger is past. Thevillain is dead, and you are with the most devoted of your servants."
"Yes, yes," she said, and pressed his arm and shivered. "Is he reallydead?"
"He is dead. God have mercy on him," said the Bishop.
"And you killed him?"
"I killed him. If it were a sin, pray God forgive me!"
Up through the window still came the noise of voices and the stir of menmoving; for they were recovering the body of the Count from the moat;yet neither Osra nor the Bishop noticed any longer what was passing; hewas intent on her, and she seemed hardly yet herself; but suddenly,before he could interpose, she threw herself off the couch and on to herknees in front of him, and, seizing hold of his hand, she kissed firstthe episcopal ring that he wore and then his hand. For he was bothBishop and a gallant gentleman, and a kiss she gave him for each; andafter she had kissed his hand, she held it in both of hers as though forsafety's sake she clung to it. But he raised her hastily, crying to hernot to kneel before him, and, throwing away his hat, he knelt beforeher, kissing her hands many times. She seemed now recovered from herbewilderment and terror; for as she looked down on him kneeling, she washalf-way between tears and smiles, and with curving lips but wet shiningeyes, she said very softly:
"Ah, my lord, who made a bishop of you?" And her cheeks grew in aninstant from dead white into sudden red, and her hand moved over hishead as if she would fain have touched him with it. And she bent downever so little towards him. Yet, perhaps, it was nothing; any lady, whohad seen how he bore himself, and knew that it was in her cause, for herhonour
and life, might well have done the same.
The Bishop of Modenstein made no immediate answer; his head was stillbowed over her hand, and after a while he kissed her hand again; and hefelt her hand press his. Then, suddenly, as though in alarm, she drewher hand away, and he let it go easily. Then he raised his eyes and metthe glance of hers, and he smiled; and Osra also smiled. For an instantthey were thus. Then the Bishop rose to his feet, and he stood beforeher with bent head and eyes that sought the ground in becoming humility.
"It is by God's infinite goodness and divine permission that I hold mysacred office." said he. "I would that I were more worthy of it! Butto-day I have taken pleasure in the killing of a man."
"And in the saving of a lady, sir," she added softly, "who will evercount you among her dearest friends and the most gallant of herdefenders. Is God angry at such a deed as that?"
"May He forgive us all our sins," said the Bishop gravely; but whatother sins he had in his mind he did not say, nor did the Princess askhim.
Then he gave her his arm, and they two walked together down the stairsinto the hall; the Bishop, having forgotten both his hat and his sword,was bare-headed and had no weapon in his hand. The Count's men were allcollected in the hall, being crowded round a table that stood by thewall; for on the table lay the body of Count Nikolas of Festenburg, andit was covered with a horse-cloth that one of the servants had thrownover it. But when the men saw the Princess and the Bishop, they made wayfor them and stood aside, bowing low as they passed.
"You bow now," said Osra, "but, before, none of you would lift a fingerfor me. To my lord the Bishop alone do I owe my life; and he is aChurchman, while you were free to fight for me. For my part, I do notenvy your wives such husbands;" and with a most scornful air she passedbetween their ranks, taking great and ostentatious care not to touch oneof them even with the hem of her gown. At this they grew red andshuffled on their feet; and one or two swore under their breath, andthanked God their wives were not such shrews, being indeed very muchashamed of themselves, and very uneasy at thinking what these same wivesof theirs would say to them when the thing came to be known. But Osraand the Bishop passed over the bridge, and he set her on his horse. Thesummer morning had just dawned, clear and fair, so that the sun caughther ruddy hair as she mounted in her white gown. But the Bishop took thebridle of the horse and led it at a foot's pace down the hill and intothe town.
Now by this time the news of what had chanced had run all through thetown, and the people were out in the streets, gossiping and guessing.And when they saw the Princess Osra safe and sound and smiling, and theBishop in his shirt--for he had given his cloak to her--leading thehorse, they broke into great cheering. The men cheered the Princess,while the women thrust themselves to the front rank of the crowd, andblessed the Bishop of Modenstein. But he walked with his head down andhis eyes on the ground, and would not look up, even when the women criedout in great fear and admiration on seeing that his shirt was stainedwith his blood and with the blood of Nikolas of Festenburg that hadspurted out upon it. But one thing the Princess heard, which sent hercheeks red again; for a buxom girl glanced merrily at her, and made boldto say in a tone that the Princess could not but hear:
"HE WALKED WITH HIS HEAD DOWN AND HIS EYES ON THEGROUND."--_Page 171._]
"By the Saints, here's waste! If he were not a Churchman, now!" And herlaughing eye travelled from the Princess to him, and back to thePrincess again.
"Shall we go a little faster?" whispered Osra, bending down to theBishop. But the girl only thought that she whispered something else, andlaughed the more.
At last they passed the town, and with a great crowd still followingthem, came to the Castle. At the gate of it the Bishop stopped and aidedthe Princess to alight. Again he knelt and kissed her hand, saying only:
"Madame, farewell!"
"Farewell, my lord," said Osra softly; and she went hastily into theCastle, while the Bishop returned to his inn in the town, and though thepeople stood round the inn the best part of the day, calling andwatching for him, he would not shew himself.
In the evening of that day the King, having heard the tidings of thecrime of Count Nikolas, came in furious haste with a troop of horse fromStrelsau. And when he heard how Osra had played at dice with the Count,and staking herself against the Castle of Zenda had won it back, he wasashamed, and swore an oath that he would play dice no more, which oathhe faithfully observed. But in the morning of the next day he went toFestenburg, where he flogged soundly every man who had not run awaybefore his coming; and all the possessions of Count Nikolas heconfiscated, and he pulled down the Castle of Festenburg, and filled upthe moat that had run round its walls.
Then he sent for the Bishop of Modenstein, and thanked him, offering tohim all the demesne of Count Nikolas; but the Bishop would not acceptit, nor any mark of the King's favour, not even the Order of the RedRose. Therefore the King granted the ground on which the Castle stood,and all the lands belonging to it, to Francis of Tarlenheim,brother-in-law to the wife of Prince Henry, who built the _chateau_which now stands there and belongs to the same family to this day.
But the Bishop of Modenstein, having been entertained by the King withgreat splendour for two days, would not stay longer, but set out topursue his journey, clad now in his ecclesiastical garments. AndPrincess Osra sat by her window, leaning her head on her hand, andwatching him till the trees of the forest hid him; and once, when he wason the edge of the forest, he turned his face for an instant, and lookedback at her where she sat watching in the window. Thus he went toStrelsau; and when he was come there, he sent immediately for hisconfessor, and the confessor, having heard him, laid upon him a severepenance, which he performed with great zeal, exactness, and contrition.But whether the penance were for killing Count Nikolas of Festenburg(which in a layman, at least, would have seemed but a venial sin) or forwhat else, who shall say?