Skip to main content

CHAPTER 20 - The Prisoner and the King

The Prisoner of Zenda

 

by Anthony Hope

 

CHAPTER 20

 

The Prisoner and the King

 

 

In order to a full understanding of what had occurred in

the Castle of Zenda, it is necessary to supplement my account

of what I myself saw and did on that night by relating briefly

what I afterwards learnt from Fritz and Madame de Mauban.

The story told by the latter explained clearly how it happened

that the cry which I had arranged as a stratagem and a sham

had come, in dreadful reality, before its time, and had thus,

as it seemed at the moment, ruined our hopes, while in the end

it had favoured them.  The unhappy woman, fired, I believe by

a genuine attachment to the Duke of Strelsau, no less than

by the dazzling prospects which a dominion over him opened before

her eyes, had followed him at his request from Paris to Ruritania.

He was a man of strong passions, but of stronger will,

and his cool head ruled both.  He was content to take all

and give nothing.  When she arrived, she was not long in finding

that she had a rival in the Princess Flavia; rendered desperate,

she stood at nothing which might give, or keep for her,

her power over the duke.  As I say, he took and gave not.

Simultaneously, Antoinette found herself entangled in

his audacious schemes.  Unwilling to abandon him,

bound to him by the chains of shame and hope,

yet she would not be a decoy, nor, at his bidding,

lure me to death.  Hence the letters of warning she had written.

Whether the lines she sent to Flavia were inspired by good or bad feeling,

by jealousy or by pity, I do not know; but here also she served us well.

When the duke went to Zenda, she accompanied him; and here for the first time

she learnt the full measure of his cruelty, and was touched with compassion

for the unfortunate King.  From this time she was with us; yet,

from what she told me, I know that she still (as women will)

loved Michael, and trusted to gain his life, if not his pardon,

from the King, as the reward for her assistance.  His triumph

she did not desire, for she loathed his crime, and loathed yet

more fiercely what would be the prize of it--his marriage with

his cousin, Princess Flavia.

 

At Zenda new forces came into play--the lust and daring of young Rupert.

He was caught by her beauty, perhaps; perhaps it was enough for him

that she belonged to another man, and that she hated him.

For many days there had been quarrels and ill will between

him and the duke, and the scene which I had witnessed

in the duke's room was but one of many.  Rupert's proposals to me,

of which she had, of course, been ignorant, in no way surprised her

when I related them; she had herself warned Michael against Rupert,

even when she was calling on me to deliver her from both of them.

On this night, then, Rupert had determined to have his will.

When she had gone to her room, he, having furnished himself

with a key to it, had made his entrance.  Her cries had brought

the duke, and there in the dark room, while she screamed,

the men had fought; and Rupert, having wounded his master

with a mortal blow, had, on the servants rushing in,

escaped through the window as I have described.

The duke's blood, spurting out, had stained his opponent's shirt;

but Rupert, not knowing that he had dealt Michael his death,

was eager to finish the encounter.  How he meant to deal with

the other three of the band, I know not.  I dare say he did not think,

for the killing of Michael was not premeditated.  Antoinette,

left alone with the duke, had tried to stanch his wound,

and thus was she busied till he died; and then, hearing Rupert's taunts,

she had come forth to avenge him.  Me she had not seen, nor did she

till I darted out of my ambush, and leapt after Rupert into the moat.

 

The same moment found my friends on the scene.  They had

reached the chateau in due time, and waited ready by the door.

But Johann, swept with the rest to the rescue of the duke,

did not open it; nay, he took a part against Rupert, putting himself

forward more bravely than any in his anxiety to avert suspicion;

and he had received a wound, in the embrasure of the window.

Till nearly half-past two Sapt waited; then, following my orders,

he had sent Fritz to search the banks of the moat.  I was not there.

Hastening back, Fritz told Sapt; and Sapt was for following orders still,

and riding at full speed back to Tarlenheim; while Fritz would not hear

of abandoning me, let me have ordered what I would.  On this they disputed

some few minutes; then Sapt, persuaded by Fritz, detached a party

under Bernenstein to gallop back to Tarlenheim and bring up the marshal,

while the rest fell to on the great door of the chateau.

For several minutes it resisted them; then, just as Antoinette de Mauban

fired at Rupert of Hentzau on the bridge, they broke in,

eight of them in all:  and the first door they came to was the door

of Michael's room; and Michael lay dead across the threshold,

with a sword-thrust through his breast.  Sapt cried out at his death,

as I had heard, and they rushed on the servants; but these, in fear,

dropped their weapons, and Antoinette flung herself weeping at Sapt's feet.

And all she cried was,that I had been at the end of the bridge and leapt off.

"What of the prisoner?" asked Sapt; but she shook her head.  Then Sapt

and Fritz, with the gentlemen behind them, crossed the bridge,

slowly, warily, and without noise; and Fritz stumbled over

the body of De Gautet in the way of the door.  They felt him

and found him dead.

 

Then they consulted, listening eagerly for any sound from

the cells below; but there came none, and they were greatly

afraid that the King's guards had killed him, and having

pushed his body through the great pipe, had escaped the same

way themselves.  Yet, because I had been seen here, they had

still some hope (thus indeed Fritz, in his friendship, told me);

and going back to Michael's body, pushing aside Antoinette,

who prayed by it, they found a key to the door which I had locked,

and opened the door.  The staircase was dark, and they would not

use a torch at first, lest they should be more exposed to fire.

But soon Fritz cried:  "The door down there is open! See, there is light!"

So they went on boldly, and found none to oppose them.  And when they

came to the outer room and saw the Belgian, Bersonin, lying dead,

they thanked God, Sapt saying:  "Ay, he has been here." Then rushing

into the King's cell, they found Detchard lying dead across

the dead physician, and the King on his back with his chair by him.

And Fritz cried:  "He's dead!" and Sapt drove all out of the room

except Fritz, and knelt down by the King; and, having learnt more

of wounds and the sign of death than I, he soon knew that the King

was not dead, nor, if properly attended, would die.  And they covered

his face and carried him to Duke Michael's room, and laid him there;

and Antoinette rose from praying by the body of the duke and went

to bathe the King's head and dress his wounds, till a doctor came.

And Sapt, seeing I had been there, and having heard Antoinette's story,

sent Fritz to search the moat and then the forest.  He dared send no one else.

And Fritz found my horse, and feared the worst.  Then, as I have told,

he found me, guided by the shout with which I had called on Rupert

to stop and face me.  And I think a man has never been more glad

to find his own brother alive than was Fritz to come on me; so that,

in love and anxiety for me, he thought nothing of a thing so great

as would have been the death of Rupert Hentzau.  Yet, had Fritz

killed him, I should have grudged it.

 

The enterprise of the King's rescue being thus prosperously

concluded, it lay on Colonel Sapt to secure secrecy as to the

King ever having been in need of rescue.  Antoinette de Mauban

and Johann the keeper (who, indeed, was too much hurt to be

wagging his tongue just now) were sworn to reveal nothing;

and Fritz went forth to find--not the King, but the unnamed

friend of the King, who had lain in Zenda and flashed for a

moment before the dazed eyes of Duke Michael's servants on

the drawbridge.  The metamorphosis had happened; and the King,

wounded almost to death by the attacks of the gaolers who

guarded his friend, had at last overcome them, and rested now,

wounded but alive, in Black Michael's own room in the Castle.

There he had been carried, his face covered with a cloak,

from the cell; and thence orders issued, that if his friend were

found, he should be brought directly and privately to the King,

and that meanwhile messengers should ride at full speed to

Tarlenheim, to tell Marshall Strakencz to assure the princess of

the King's safety and to come himself with all speed to greet

the King.  The princess was enjoined to remain at Tarlenheim,

and there await her cousin's coming or his further injunctions.

Thus the King would come to his own again, having wrought

brave deeds, and escaped, almost by a miracle, the treacherous

assault of his unnatural brother.

 

This ingenious arrangement of my long-headed old friend

prospered in every way, save where it encountered a force

that often defeats the most cunning schemes.  I mean nothing else

than the pleasure of a woman.  For, let her cousin and sovereign

send what command he chose (or Colonel Sapt chose for him),

and let Marshal Strakencz insist as he would, the Princess

Flavia was in no way minded to rest at Tarlenheim while her

lover lay wounded at Zenda; and when the Marshal, with a

small suite, rode forth from Tarlenheim on the way to Zenda,

the princess's carriage followed immediately behind, and in

this order they passed through the town, where the report was

already rife that the King, going the night before to remonstrate

with his brother, in all friendliness, for that he held one of

the King's friends in confinement in the Castle, had been most

traitorously set upon; that there had been a desperate conflict;

that the duke was slain with several of his gentlemen; and that

the King, wounded as he was, had seized and held the Castle

of Zenda.  All of which talk made, as may be supposed, a mighty

excitement:  and the wires were set in motion, and the tidings

came to Strelsau only just after orders had been sent thither

to parade the troops and overawe the dissatisfied quarters

of the town with a display of force.

 

Thus the Princess Flavia came to Zenda.  And as she drove up the hill,

with the Marshal riding by the wheel and still imploring her to return

in obedience to the King's orders, Fritz von Tarlenheim,

with the prisoner of Zenda, came to the edge of the forest.

I had revived from my swoon, and walked, resting on Fritz's arm;

and looking out from the cover of the trees, I saw the princess.

Suddenly understanding from a glance at my companion's face

that we must not meet her, I sank on my knees behind a clump of bushes.

But there was one whom we had forgotten, but who followed us,

and was not disposed to let slip the chance of earning a smile

and maybe a crown or two; and, while we lay hidden,

the little farm-girl came by us and ran to the princess,

curtseying and crying:

 

"Madame, the King is here--in the bushes!  May I guide you to him, madame?"

 

"Nonsense, child!" said old Strakencz; "the King lies wounded in the Castle."

 

"Yes, sir, he's wounded, I know; but he's there--with Count Fritz--

and not at the Castle," she persisted.

 

"Is he in two places, or are there two Kings?" asked Flavia, bewildered.

"And how should he be there?"

 

"He pursued a gentleman, madame, and they fought till Count Fritz came;

and the other gentleman took my father's horse from me and rode away;

but the King is here with Count Fritz.  Why, madame, is there another man

in Ruritania like the King?"

 

"No, my child," said Flavia softly (I was told it afterwards),

and she smiled and gave the girl money.  "I will go and see

this gentleman," and she rose to alight from the carriage.

 

But at this moment Sapt came riding from the Castle, and,

seeing the princess, made the best of a bad job, and cried

to her that the King was well tended and in no danger.

 

"In the Castle?" she asked.

 

"Where else, madame?" said he, bowing.

 

"But this girl says he is yonder--with Count Fritz."

 

Sapt turned his eyes on the child with an incredulous smile.

 

"Every fine gentleman is a King to such," said he.

 

"Why, he's as like the King as one pea to another, madame!"

cried the girl, a little shaken but still obstinate.

 

Sapt started round.  The old Marshal's face asked unspoken questions.

Flavia's glance was no less eloquent.  Suspicion spread quick.

 

"I'll ride myself and see this man," said Sapt hastily.

 

"Nay, I'll come myself," said the princess.

 

"Then come alone," he whispered.

 

And she, obedient to the strange hinting in his face, prayed the Marshal

and the rest to wait; and she and Sapt came on foot towards where we lay,

Sapt waving to the farm-girl to keep at a distance.  And when I saw them

coming, I sat in a sad heap on the ground, and buried my face in my hands.

I could not look at her.  Fritz knelt by me, laying his hand on my shoulder.

 

"Speak low, whatever you say," I heard Sapt whisper as they came up;

and the next thing I heard was a low cry--half of joy, half of fear--

from the princess:

 

"It is he!  Are you hurt?"

 

And she fell on the ground by me, and gently pulled my hands away;

but I kept my eyes to the ground.

 

"It is the King!" she said.  "Pray, Colonel Sapt,

tell me where lay the wit of the joke you played on me?"

 

We answered none of us; we three were silent before her.

Regardless of them, she threw her arms round my neck

and kissed me.  Then Sapt spoke in a low hoarse whisper:

 

"It is not the King.  Don't kiss him; he's not the King."

 

She drew back for a moment; then, with an arm still round

my neck, she asked, in superb indignation:

 

"Do I not know my love?  Rudolf my love!"

 

"It is not the King," said old Sapt again; and a sudden sob

broke from tender-hearted Fritz.

 

It was the sob that told her no comedy was afoot.

 

"He is the King!" she cried.  "It is the King's face--the King's ring--

my ring!  It is my love!"

 

"Your love, madame," said old Sapt, "but not the King.

The King is there in the Castle.  This gentleman--"

 

"Look at me, Rudolf! look at me!" she cried, taking my face

between her hands.  "Why do you let them torment me?

Tell me what it means!"

 

Then I spoke, gazing into her eyes.

 

"God forgive me, madame!" I said.  "I am not the King!"

 

I felt her hands clutch my cheeks.  She gazed at me as never

man's face was scanned yet.  And I, silent again, saw wonder born,

and doubt grow, and terror spring to life as she looked.

And very gradually the grasp of her hands slackened;

she turned to Sapt, to Fritz, and back to me:

then suddenly she reeled forward and fell in my arms;

and with a great cry of pain I gathered her to me

and kissed her lips.  Sapt laid his hand on my arm.

I looked up in his face.  And I laid her softly on the ground,

and stood up, looking on her, cursing heaven that young

Rupert's sword had spared me for this sharper pang.

 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Prisoner of Zenda - Book Index & Summary

The Prisoner of Zenda - by Anthony Hope About- The Prisoner of Zenda The Prisoner of Zenda is an adventure novel by Anthony Hope, published in 1894. The king of the fictional country of Ruritania is abducted on the eve of his coronation, and the protagonist, an English gentleman on holiday who fortuitously resembles the monarch, is persuaded to act as his political decoy in an attempt to save the situation. The books were extremely popular and inspired a new genre of Ruritanian romance, including the Graustark novels by George Barr McCutcheon. The villainous Rupert of Hentzau gave his name to the sequel published in 1898, which is included in some editions of this novel. Plot Summary The narrator is twenty-nine year old the Hon. Rudolf Rassendyll, younger brother of the Earl of Burlesdon and (through an ancestor's sexual indiscretion) a distant cousin and look alike of Rudolf V, the soon-to-be-crowned King of Ruritania, a "highly interesting and important" [1] Ger...

CHAPTER 5- The Adventures of an Understudy

CHAPTER 5 The Adventures of an Understudy     With Fritz von Tarlenheim and Colonel Sapt close behind me, I stepped out of the buffet on to the platform.   The last thing I did was to feel if my revolver were handy and my sword loose in the scabbard.   A gay group of officers and high dignitaries stood awaiting me, at their head a tall old man, covered with medals, and of military bearing.   He wore the yellow and red ribbon of the Red Rose of Ruritania--which, by the way, decorated my unworthy breast also.   "Marshal Strakencz," whispered Sapt, and I knew that I was in the presence of the most famous veteran of the Ruritanian army.   Just behind the Marshal stood a short spare man, in flowing robes of black and crimson.   "The Chancellor of the Kingdom," whispered Sapt.   The Marshal greeted me in a few loyal words, and proceeded to deliver an apology from the Duke of Strelsau...

CHAPTER 7- His Majesty Sleeps in Strelsau

CHAPTER 7 His Majesty Sleeps in Strelsau     I put my arm round Sapt's waist and supported him out of the cellar, drawing the battered door close after me.   For ten minutes or more we sat silent in the dining-room.   Then old Sapt rubbed his knuckles into his eyes, gave one great gasp, and was himself again. As the clock on the mantelpiece struck one he stamped his foot on the floor, saying:   "They've got the King!"   "Yes," said I, ""all's well!" as Black Michael's despatch said. What a moment it must have been for him when the royal salutes fired at Strelsau this morning!   I wonder when he got the message?"   "It must have been sent in the morning," said Sapt.   "They must have sent it before news of your arrival at Strelsau reached Zenda-- I suppose it came from Zenda."   "And he's carried it about all da...