CHAPTER IV. AN EDDY ON THE MOAT
On the evening of Thursday, the sixteenth of October, the Constable ofZenda was very much out of humor; he has since confessed as much. Torisk the peace of a palace for the sake of a lover's greeting had neverbeen wisdom to his mind, and he had been sorely impatient with "thatfool Fritz's" yearly pilgrimage. The letter of farewell had been anadded folly, pregnant with chances of disaster. Now disaster, or thedanger of it, had come. The curt, mysterious telegram from Wintenberg,which told him so little, at least told him that. It ordered him--and hedid not know even whose the order was--to delay Rischenheim's audience,or, if he could not, to get the king away from Zenda: why he was to actthus was not disclosed to him. But he knew as well as I that Rischenheimwas completely in Rupert's hands, and he could not fail to guess thatsomething had gone wrong at Wintenberg, and that Rischenheim came totell the king some news that the king must not hear. His task soundedsimple, but it was not easy; for he did not know where Rischenheim was,and so could not prevent his coming; besides, the king had been verypleased to learn of the count's approaching visit, since he desired totalk with him on the subject of a certain breed of dogs, which the countbred with great, his Majesty with only indifferent success; thereforehe had declared that nothing should interfere with his reception ofRischenheim. In vain Sapt told him that a large boar had been seen inthe forest, and that a fine day's sport might be expected if he wouldhunt next day. "I shouldn't be back in time to see Rischenheim," saidthe king.
"Your Majesty would be back by nightfall," suggested Sapt.
"I should be too tired to talk to him, and I've a great deal todiscuss."
"You could sleep at the hunting-lodge, sire, and ride back to receivethe count next morning."
"I'm anxious to see him as soon as may be." Then he looked up at Saptwith a sick man's quick suspicion. "Why shouldn't I see him?" he asked.
"It's a pity to miss the boar, sire," was all Sapt's plea. The king madelight of it.
"Curse the boar!" said he. "I want to know how he gets the dogs' coatsso fine."
As the king spoke a servant entered, carrying a telegram for Sapt. Thecolonel took it and put it in his pocket.
"Read it," said the king. He had dined and was about to go to bed, itbeing nearly ten o'clock.
"It will keep, sire," answered Sapt, who did not know but that it mightbe from Wintenberg.
"Read it," insisted the king testily. "It may be from Rischenheim.Perhaps he can get here sooner. I should like to know about those dogs.Read it, I beg."
Sapt could do nothing but read it. He had taken to spectacles lately,and he spent a long while adjusting them and thinking what he shoulddo if the message were not fit for the king's ear. "Be quick, man, bequick!" urged the irritable king.
Sapt had got the envelope open at last, and relief, mingled withperplexity, showed in his face.
"Your Majesty guessed wonderfully well. Rischenheim can be here at eightto-morrow morning," he said, looking up.
"Capital!" cried the king. "He shall breakfast with me at nine, and I'llhave a ride after the boar when we've done our business. Now are yousatisfied?"
"Perfectly, sire," said Sapt, biting his moustache.
The king rose with a yawn, and bade the colonel good-night. "He musthave some trick I don't know with those dogs," he remarked, as he wentout. And "Damn the dogs!" cried Colonel Sapt the moment that the doorwas shut behind his Majesty.
But the colonel was not a man to accept defeat easily. The audience thathe had been instructed to postpone was advanced; the king, whom hehad been told to get away from Zenda, would not go till he had seenRischenheim. Still there are many ways of preventing a meeting. Someare by fraud; these it is no injustice to Sapt to say that he had tried;some are by force, and the colonel was being driven to the conclusionthat one of these must be his resort.
"Though the king," he mused, with a grin, "will be furious if anythinghappens to Rischenheim before he's told him about the dogs."
Yet he fell to racking his brains to find a means by which the countmight be rendered incapable of performing the service so desired by theking and of carrying out his own purpose in seeking an audience. Nothingsave assassination suggested itself to the constable; a quarrel and aduel offered no security; and Sapt was not Black Michael, and had noband of ruffians to join him in an apparently unprovoked kidnapping of adistinguished nobleman.
"I can think of nothing," muttered Sapt, rising from his chair andmoving across towards the window in search of the fresh air that a manso often thinks will give him a fresh idea. He was in his own quarters,that room of the new chateau which opens on to the moat immediately tothe right of the drawbridge as you face the old castle; it was the roomwhich Duke Michael had occupied, and almost opposite to the spot wherethe great pipe had connected the window of the king's dungeon with thewaters of the moat. The bridge was down now, for peaceful days had cometo Zenda; the pipe was gone, and the dungeon's window, though stillbarred, was uncovered. The night was clear and fine, and the still watergleamed fitfully as the moon, half-full, escaped from or was hidden bypassing clouds. Sapt stood staring out gloomily, beating his knuckles onthe stone sill. The fresh air was there, but the fresh idea tarried.
Suddenly the constable bent forward, craning his head out and down, faras he could stretch it, towards the water. What he had seen, or seemeddimly to see, is a sight common enough on the surface of water--largecircular eddies, widening from a centre; a stone thrown in makes them,or a fish on the rise. But Sapt had thrown no stone, and the fish in themoat were few and not rising then. The light was behind Sapt, and threwhis figure into bold relief. The royal apartments looked out the otherway; there were no lights in the windows this side the bridge, althoughbeyond it the guards' lodgings and the servants' offices still showed alight here and there. Sapt waited till the eddies ceased. Then he heardthe faintest sound, as of a large body let very gently into the water; amoment later, from the moat right below him, a man's head emerged.
"Sapt!" said a voice, low but distinct.
The old colonel started, and, resting both hands on the sill, bentfurther out, till he seemed in danger of overbalancing.
"Quick--to the ledge on the other side. You know," said the voice, andthe head turned; with quick, quiet strokes the man crossed the moat tillhe was hidden in the triangle of deep shade formed by the meeting ofthe drawbridge and the old castle wall. Sapt watched him go, almoststupefied by the sudden wonder of hearing that voice come to him out ofthe stillness of the night. For the king was abed; and who spoke in thatvoice save the king and one other?
Then, with a curse at himself for his delay, he turned and walkedquickly across the room. Opening the door, he found himself in thepassage. But here he ran right into the arms of young Bernenstein, theofficer of the guard, who was going his rounds. Sapt knew and trustedhim, for he had been with us all through the siege of Zenda, whenMichael kept the king a prisoner, and he bore marks given him by Rupertof Hentzau's ruffians. He now held a commission as lieutenant in thecuirassiers of the King's Guard.
He noticed Sapt's bearing, for he cried out in a low voice, "Anythingwrong, sir?"
"Bernenstein, my boy, the castle's all right about here. Go round to thefront, and, hang you, stay there," said Sapt.
The officer stared, as well he might. Sapt caught him by the arm.
"No, stay here. See, stand by the door there that leads to the royalapartments. Stand there, and let nobody pass. You understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"And whatever you hear, don't look round."
Bernenstein's bewilderment grew greater; but Sapt was constable, and onSapt's shoulders lay the responsibility for the safety of Zenda and allin it.
"Very well, sir," he said, with a submissive shrug, and he drew hissword and stood by the door; he could obey, although he could notunderstand.
Sapt ran on. Opening the gate that led to the bridge, he sped across.Then, stepping on one side and turning his face to the wall, hedescended the steps
that gave foothold down to the ledge running six oreight inches above the water. He also was now in the triangle of deepdarkness, yet he knew that a man was there, who stood straight and tall,rising above his own height. And he felt his hand caught in a suddengrip. Rudolf Rassendyll was there, in his wet drawers and socks.
"Is it you?" he whispered.
"Yes," answered Rudolf; "I swam round from the other side and got here.Then I threw in a bit of mortar, but I wasn't sure I'd roused you, andI didn't dare shout, so I followed it myself. Lay hold of me a minutewhile I get on my breeches: I didn't want to get wet, so I carried myclothes in a bundle. Hold me tight, it's slippery."
"In God's name what brings you here?" whispered Sapt, catching Rudolf bythe arm as he was directed.
"The queen's service. When does Rischenheim come?"
"To-morrow at eight."
"The deuce! That's earlier than I thought. And the king?"
"Is here and determined to see him. It's impossible to move him fromit."
There was a moment's silence; Rudolf drew his shirt over his head andtucked it into his trousers. "Give me the jacket and waistcoat," hesaid. "I feel deuced damp underneath, though."
"You'll soon get dry," grinned Sapt. "You'll be kept moving, you see."
"I've lost my hat."
"Seems to me you've lost your head too."
"You'll find me both, eh, Sapt?"
"As good as your own, anyhow," growled the constable.
"Now the boots, and I'm ready." Then he asked quickly, "Has the kingseen or heard from Rischenheim?"
"Neither, except through me."
"Then why is he so set on seeing him?"
"To find out what gives dogs smooth coats."
"You're serious? Hang you, I can't see your face."
"Absolutely."
"All's well, then. Has he got a beard now?"
"Yes."
"Confound him! Can't you take me anywhere to talk?"
"What the deuce are you here at all for?"
"To meet Rischenheim."
"To meet--?"
"Yes. Sapt, he's got a copy of the queen's letter."
Sapt twirled his moustache.
"I've always said as much," he remarked in tones of satisfaction. Heneed not have said it; he would have been more than human not to thinkit.
"Where can you take me to?" asked Rudolf impatiently.
"Any room with a door and a lock to it," answered old Sapt. "I commandhere, and when I say 'Stay out'--well, they don't come in."
"Not the king?"
"The king is in bed. Come along," and the constable set his toe on thelowest step.
"Is there nobody about?" asked Rudolf, catching his arm.
"Bernenstein; but he will keep his back toward us."
"Your discipline is still good, then, Colonel?"
"Pretty well for these days, your Majesty," grunted Sapt, as he reachedthe level of the bridge.
Having crossed, they entered the chateau. The passage was empty,save for Bernenstein, whose broad back barred the way from the royalapartments.
"In here," whispered Sapt, laying his hand on the door of the roomwhence he had come.
"All right," answered Rudolf. Bernenstein's hand twitched, but he didnot look round. There was discipline in the castle of Zenda.
But as Sapt was half-way through the door and Rudolf about to followhim, the other door, that which Bernenstein guarded, was softly yetswiftly opened. Bernenstein's sword was in rest in an instant. Amuttered oath from Sapt and Rudolf's quick snatch at his breath greetedthe interruption. Bernenstein did not look round, but his sword fell tohis side. In the doorway stood Queen Flavia, all in white; and nowher face turned white as her dress. For her eyes had fallen on RudolfRassendyll. For a moment the four stood thus; then Rudolf passed Sapt,thrust Bernenstein's brawny shoulders (the young man had not lookedround) out of the way, and, falling on his knee before the queen, seizedher hand and kissed it. Bernenstein could see now without looking round,and if astonishment could kill, he would have been a dead man thatinstant. He fairly reeled and leant against the wall, his mouth hangingopen. For the king was in bed, and had a beard; yet there was the king,fully dressed and clean shaven, and he was kissing the queen's hand,while she gazed down on him in a struggle between amazement, fright, andjoy. A soldier should be prepared for anything, but I cannot be hard onyoung Bernenstein's bewilderment.
Yet there was in truth nothing strange in the queen seeking to see oldSapt that night, nor in her guessing where he would most probably befound. For she had asked him three times whether news had come fromWintenberg and each time he had put her off with excuses. Quick toforbode evil, and conscious of the pledge to fortune that she had givenin her letter, she had determined to know from him whether there werereally cause for alarm, and had stolen, undetected, from her apartmentsto seek him. What filled her at once with unbearable apprehension andincredulous joy was to find Rudolf present in actual flesh and blood,no longer in sad longing dreams or visions, and to feel his live lips onher hand.
Lovers count neither time nor danger; but Sapt counted both, and nomore than a moment had passed before, with eager imperative gestures, hebeckoned them to enter the room. The queen obeyed, and Rudolf followedher.
"Let nobody in, and don't say a word to anybody," whispered Sapt, ashe entered, leaving Bernenstein outside. The young man was half-dazedstill, but he had sense to read the expression in the constable's eyesand to learn from it that he must give his life sooner than let the doorbe opened. So with drawn sword he stood on guard.
It was eleven o'clock when the queen came, and midnight had struck fromthe great clock of the castle before the door opened again and Sapt cameout. His sword was not drawn, but he had his revolver in his hand.He shut the door silently after him and began at once to talk in low,earnest, quick tones to Bernenstein. Bernenstein listened intently andwithout interrupting. Sapt's story ran on for eight or nine minutes.Then he paused, before asking:
"You understand now?"
"Yes, it is wonderful," said the young man, drawing in his breath.
"Pooh!" said Sapt. "Nothing is wonderful: some things are unusual."
Bernenstein was not convinced, and shrugged his shoulders in protest.
"Well?" said the constable, with a quick glance at him.
"I would die for the queen, sir," he answered, clicking his heelstogether as though on parade.
"Good," said Sapt. "Then listen," and he began again to talk.Bernenstein nodded from time to time. "You'll meet him at the gate,"said the constable, "and bring him straight here. He's not to goanywhere else, you understand me?"
"Perfectly, Colonel," smiled young Bernenstein.
"The king will be in this room--the king. You know who is the king?"
"Perfectly, Colonel."
"And when the interview is ended, and we go to breakfast--"
"I know who will be the king then. Yes, Colonel."
"Good. But we do him no harm unless--"
"It is necessary."
"Precisely."
Sapt turned away with a little sigh. Bernenstein was an apt pupil, butthe colonel was exhausted by so much explanation. He knocked softly atthe door of the room. The queen's voice bade him enter, and he passedin. Bernenstein was left alone again in the passage, pondering over whathe had heard and rehearsing the part that it now fell to him to play. Ashe thought he may well have raised his head proudly. The service seemedso great and the honor so high, that he almost wished he could die inthe performing of his role. It would be a finer death than his soldier'sdreams had dared to picture.
At one o'clock Colonel Sapt came out. "Go to bed till six," said he toBernenstein.
"I'm not sleepy."
"No, but you will be at eight if you don't sleep now."
"Is the queen coming out, Colonel?"
"In a minute, Lieutenant."
"I should like to kiss her hand."
"Well, if you think it worth waiting a quarter of an hour for!" saidSapt, with a slig
ht smile.
"You said a minute, sir."
"So did she," answered the constable.
Nevertheless it was a quarter of an hour before Rudolf Rassendyll openedthe door and the queen appeared on the threshold. She was very pale,and she had been crying, but her eyes were happy and her air firm. Themoment he saw her, young Bernenstein fell on his knee and raised herhand to his lips.
"To the death, madame," said he, in a trembling voice.
"I knew it, sir," she answered graciously. Then she looked round on thethree of them. "Gentlemen," said she, "my servants and dear friends,with you, and with Fritz who lies wounded in Wintenberg, rest my honorand my life; for I will not live if the letter reaches the king."
"The king shall not have it, madame," said Colonel Sapt. He tookher hand in his and patted it with a clumsy gentleness; smiling, sheextended it again to young Bernenstein, in mark of her favor. They twothen stood at the salute, while Rudolf walked with her to the end of thepassage. There for a moment she and he stood together; the others turnedtheir eyes away and thus did not see her suddenly stoop and cover hishand with her kisses. He tried to draw it away, not thinking it fit thatshe should kiss his hand, but she seemed as though she could not letit go. Yet at last, still with her eyes on his, she passed backwardsthrough the door, and he shut it after her.
"Now to business," said Colonel Sapt dryly; and Rudolf laughed a little.
Rudolf passed into the room. Sapt went to the king's apartments, andasked the physician whether his Majesty were sleeping well. Receivingreassuring news of the royal slumbers, he proceeded to the quartersof the king's body-servant, knocked up the sleepy wretch, and orderedbreakfast for the king and the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim at nineo'clock precisely, in the morning-room that looked out over the avenueleading to the entrance to the new chateau. This done, he returned tothe room where Rudolf was, carried a chair into the passage, bade Rudolflock the door, sat down, revolver in hand, and himself went to sleep.Young Bernenstein was in bed just now, taken faint, and the constablehimself was acting as his substitute; that was to be the story, if astory were needed. Thus the hours from two to six passed that morning inthe castle of Zenda.
At six the constable awoke and knocked at the door; Rudolf Rassendyllopened it.
"Slept well?" asked Sapt.
"Not a wink," answered Rudolf cheerfully.
"I thought you had more nerve."
"It wasn't want of nerve that kept me awake," said Mr. Rassendyll.
Sapt, with a pitying shrug, looked round. The curtains of the windowwere half-drawn. The table was moved near to the wall, and the arm-chairby it was well in shadow, being quite close to the curtains.
"There's plenty of room for you behind," said Rudolf; "And whenRischenheim is seated in his chair opposite to mine, you can put yourbarrel against his head by just stretching out your hand. And of courseI can do the same."
"Yes, it looks well enough," said Sapt, with an approving nod. "Whatabout the beard?"
"Bernenstein is to tell him you've shaved this morning."
"Will he believe that?"
"Why not? For his own sake he'd better believe everything."
"And if we have to kill him?"
"We must run for it. The king would be furious."
"He's fond of him?"
"You forget. He wants to know about the dogs."
"True. You'll be in your place in time?"
"Of course."
Rudolf Rassendyll took a turn up and down the room. It was easy to seethat the events of the night had disturbed him. Sapt's thoughts wererunning in a different channel.
"When we've done with this fellow, we must find Rupert," said he.
Rudolf started.
"Rupert? Rupert? True; I forgot. Of course we must," said he confusedly.
Sapt looked scornful; he knew that his companion's mind had beenoccupied with the queen. But his remarks--if he had meditated any--wereinterrupted by the clock striking seven.
"He'll be here in an hour," said he.
"We're ready for him," answered Rudolf Rassendyll. With the thought ofaction his eyes grew bright and his brow smooth again. He and old Saptlooked at one another, and they both smiled.
"Like old times, isn't it, Sapt?"
"Aye, sire, like the reign of good King Rudolf."
Thus they made ready for the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim, while my cursedwound held me a prisoner at Wintenberg. It is still a sorrow to me thatI know what passed that morning only by report, and had not the honorof bearing a part in it. Still, her Majesty did not forget me, butremembered that I would have taken my share, had fortune allowed. IndeedI would most eagerly.