Skip to main content

CHAPTER 8- A Fair Cousin and a Dark Brother

CHAPTER 8

A Fair Cousin and a Dark Brother

 

 

A real king's life is perhaps a hard one; but a pretended king's is,

I warrant, much harder.  On the next day, Sapt instructed me

in my duties--what I ought to do and what I ought to know--

for three hours; then I snatched breakfast, with Sapt

still opposite me, telling me that the King always took white wine

in the morning and was known to detest all highly seasoned dishes.

Then came the Chancellor, for another three hours; and to him

I had to explain that the hurt to my finger (we turned that bullet

to happy account) prevented me from writing--whence arose

great to-do, hunting of precedents and so forth, ending in

my "making my mark," and the Chancellor attesting it with

a superfluity of solemn oaths.  Then the French ambassador was

introduced, to present his credentials; here my ignorance

was of no importance, as the King would have been equally raw

to the business (we worked through the whole corps diplomatique in the

next few days, a demise of the Crown necessitating all this bother).

 

Then, at last, I was left alone.  I called my new servant

(we had chosen, to succeed poor Josef, a young man who

had never known the King), had a brandy-and-soda brought to me,

and observed to Sapt that I trusted that I might now have a rest.

Fritz von Tarlenheim was standing by.

 

"By heaven!" he cried, "we waste time.  Aren't we going

to throw Black Michael by the heels?"

 

"Gently, my son, gently," said Sapt, knitting his brows.

"It would be a pleasure, but it might cost us dear.

Would Michael fall and leave the King alive?"

 

"And," I suggested, "while the King is here in Strelsau,

on his throne, what grievance has he against his dear

brother Michael?"

 

"Are we to do nothing, then?"

 

"We're to do nothing stupid," growled Sapt.

 

"In fact, Fritz," said I, "I am reminded of a situation in one

of our English plays--The Critic--have you heard of it?  Or, if you

like, of two men, each covering the other with a revolver.  For I can't

expose Michael without exposing myself--"

 

"And the King," put in Sapt.

 

"And, hang me if Michael won't expose himself, if he tries

to expose me!"

 

"It's very pretty," said old Sapt.

 

"If I'm found out," I pursued, "I will make a clean breast of it,

and fight it out with the duke; but at present I'm waiting for a

move from him."

 

"He'll kill the King," said Fritz.

 

"Not he," said Sapt.

 

"Half of the Six are in Strelsau," said Fritz.

 

"Only half?  You're sure?" asked Sapt eagerly.

 

"Yes--only half."

 

"Then the King's alive, for the other three are guarding him!"

cried Sapt.

 

"Yes--you're right!" exclaimed Fritz, his face brightening.

"If the King were dead and buried, they'd all be here with Michael.

You know Michael's back, colonel?"

 

"I know, curse him!"

 

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," said I, "who are the Six?"

 

"I think you'll make their acquaintance soon," said Sapt.

"They are six gentlemen whom Michael maintains in his household:

they belong to him body and soul.  There are three Ruritanians;

then there's a Frenchman, a Belgian, and one of your countrymen."

 

"They'd all cut a throat if Michael told them," said Fritz.

 

"Perhaps they'll cut mine," I suggested.

 

"Nothing more likely," agreed Sapt.  "Who are here, Fritz?"

 

"De Gautet, Bersonin, and Detchard."

 

"The foreigners!  It's as plain as a pikestaff.  He's brought them,

and left the Ruritanians with the King; that's because he wants

to commit the Ruritanians as deep as he can."

 

"They were none of them among our friends at the lodge, then?" I asked.

 

"I wish they had been," said Sapt wistfully.  "They had been,

not six, but four, by now."

 

I had already developed one attribute of royalty--a feeling

that I need not reveal all my mind or my secret designs even to

my intimate friends.  I had fully resolved on my course of action.

I meant to make myself as popular as I could, and at the same

time to show no disfavour to Michael.  By these means I hoped

to allay the hostility of his adherents, and make it appear, if an

open conflict came about, that he was ungrateful and not oppressed.

 

Yet an open conflict was not what I hoped for.

 

The King's interest demanded secrecy; and while secrecy lasted,

I had a fine game to play in Strelsau, Michael should not grow

stronger for delay!

 

I ordered my horse, and, attended by Fritz von Tarlenheim,

rode in the grand new avenue of the Royal Park, returning all

the salutes which I received with punctilious politeness.

Then I rode through a few of the streets, stopped and bought flowers

of a pretty girl, paying her with a piece of gold; and then,

having attracted the desired amount of attention (for I had a trail

of half a thousand people after me), I rode to the residence

of the Princess Flavia, and asked if she would receive me.

This step created much interest, and was met with shouts of approval.

The princess was very popular, and the Chancellor himself had

not scrupled to hint to me that the more I pressed my suit,

and the more rapidly I brought it to a prosperous conclusion,

the stronger should I be in the affection of my subjects.

The Chancellor, of course, did not understand the difficulties which

lay in the way of following his loyal and excellent advice.

However, I thought I could do no harm by calling; and in this

view Fritz supported me with a cordiality that surprised me,

until he confessed that he also had his motives for liking a visit

to the princess's house, which motive was no other than a great

desire to see the princess's lady-in-waiting and bosom friend,

the Countess Helga von Strofzin.

 

Etiquette seconded Fritz's hopes.  While I was ushered into

the princess's room, he remained with the countess in the

ante-chamber:  in spite of the people and servants who were

hanging about, I doubt not that they managed a tete-a-tete;

but I had no leisure to think of them, for I was playing the most

delicate move in all my difficult game.  I had to keep the princess

devoted to me--and yet indifferent to me:  I had to show affection

for her--and not feel it.  I had to make love for another,

and that to a girl who--princess or no princess--was the most

beautiful I had ever seen.  Well, I braced myself to the task,

made no easier by the charming embarrassment with which I

was received.  How I succeeded in carrying out my programme

will appear hereafter.

 

"You are gaining golden laurels," she said.  "You are like the

prince in Shakespeare who was transformed by becoming king.

But I'm forgetting you are King, sire."

 

"I ask you to speak nothing but what your heart tells you--

and to call me nothing but my name."

 

She looked at me for a moment.

 

"Then I'm glad and proud, Rudolf," said she.  "Why, as I told you,

your very face is changed."

 

I acknowledged the compliment, but I disliked the topic; so I said:

 

"My brother is back, I hear.  He made an excursion, didn't he?"

 

"Yes, he is here," she said, frowning a little.

 

"He can't stay long from Strelsau, it seems," I observed, smiling.

"Well, we are all glad to see him.  The nearer he is, the better."

 

The princess glanced at me with a gleam of amusement in her eyes.

 

"Why, cousin?  Is it that you can--?"

 

"See better what he's doing?  Perhaps," said I. "And why are you glad?"

 

"I didn't say I was glad," she answered.

 

"Some people say so for you."

 

"There are many insolent people," she said, with delightful haughtiness.

 

"Possibly you mean that I am one?"

 

"Your Majesty could not be," she said, curtseying in feigned

deference, but adding, mischievously, after a pause:  "Unless,

that is--"

 

"Well, unless what?"

 

"Unless you tell me that I mind a snap of my fingers where

the Duke of Strelsau is."

 

Really, I wished that I had been the King.

 

"You don't care where cousin Michael--"

 

"Ah, cousin Michael!  I call him the Duke of Strelsau."

 

"You call him Michael when you meet him?"

 

"Yes--by the orders of your father."

 

"I see.  And now by mine?"

 

"If those are your orders."

 

"Oh, decidedly!  We must all be pleasant to our dear Michael."

 

"You order me to receive his friends, too, I suppose?"

 

"The Six?"

 

"You call them that, too?"

 

"To be in the fashion, I do.  But I order you to receive

no one unless you like."

 

"Except yourself?"

 

"I pray for myself.  I could not order."

 

As I spoke, there came a cheer from the street.  The princess

ran to the window.

 

"It is he!" she cried.  "It is--the Duke of Strelsau!"

 

I smiled, but said nothing.  She returned to her seat.  For a few

moments we sat in silence.  The noise outside subsided, but I

heard the tread of feet in the ante-room.  I began to talk on

general subjects.  This went on for some minutes.  I wondered

what had become of Michael, but it did not seem to be for me

to interfere.  All at once, to my great surprise, Flavia, clasping

her hands asked in an agitated voice:

 

"Are you wise to make him angry?"

 

"What?  Who?  How am I making him angry?"

 

"Why, by keeping him waiting."

 

"My dear cousin, I don't want to keep him--"

 

"Well, then, is he to come in?"

 

"Of course, if you wish it."

 

She looked at me curiously.

 

"How funny you are," she said.  "Of course no one could

be announced while I was with you."

 

Here was a charming attribute of royalty!

 

"An excellent etiquette!" I cried.  "But I had clean forgotten it;

and if I were alone with someone else, couldn't you be announced?"

 

"You know as well as I do.  I could be, because I am of the Blood;"

and she still looked puzzled.

 

"I never could remember all these silly rules," said I, rather feebly,

as I inwardly cursed Fritz for not posting me up.  "But I'll repair my fault."

 

I jumped up, flung open the door, and advanced into the ante-room.

Michael was sitting at a table, a heavy frown on his face.

Everyone else was standing, save that impudent young dog Fritz,

who was lounging easily in an armchair, and flirting with the Countess Helga.

He leapt up as I entered, with a deferential alacrity that lent point

to his former nonchalance.  I had no difficulty in understanding

that the duke might not like young Fritz.

 

I held out my hand, Michael took it, and I embraced him.

Then I drew him with me into the inner room.

 

"Brother," I said, "if I had known you were here, you should

not have waited a moment before I asked the princess to permit

me to bring you to her."

 

He thanked me, but coldly.  The man had many qualities, but he

could not hide his feelings.  A mere stranger could have seen

that he hated me, and hated worse to see me with Princess Flavia;

yet I am persuaded that he tried to conceal both feelings, and, further,

that he tried to persuade me that he believed I was verily the King.

I did not know, of course; but, unless the King were an impostor,

at once cleverer and more audacious than I (and I began to think

something of myself in that role), Michael could not believe that.

And, if he didn't, how he must have loathed paying me deference,

and hearing my "Michael" and my "Flavia!"

 

"Your hand is hurt, sire," he observed, with concern.

 

"Yes, I was playing a game with a mongrel dog" (I meant to stir him),

"and you know, brother, such have uncertain tempers."

 

He smiled sourly, and his dark eyes rested on me for a moment.

 

"But is there no danger from the bite?" cried Flavia anxiously.

 

"None from this," said I. "If I gave him a chance to bite deeper,

it would be different, cousin."

 

"But surely he has been destroyed?" said she.

 

"Not yet.  We're waiting to see if his bite is harmful."

 

"And if it is?" asked Michael, with his sour smile.

 

"He'll be knocked on the head, brother," said I.

 

"You won't play with him any more?" urged Flavia.

 

"Perhaps I shall."

 

"He might bite again."

 

"Doubtless he'll try," said I, smiling.

 

Then, fearing Michael would say something which I must

appear to resent (for, though I might show him my hate,

I must seem to be full of favour), I began to compliment him

on the magnificent condition of his regiment, and of their

loyal greeting to me on the day of my coronation.

Thence I passed to a rapturous description of the hunting-lodge

which he had lent me. But he rose suddenly to his feet.

His temper was failing him, and, with an excuse, he said farewell.

However, as he reached the door he stopped, saying:

 

"Three friends of mine are very anxious to have the honour of

being presented to you, sire.  They are here in the ante-chamber."

 

I joined him directly, passing my arm through his.  The look

on his face was honey to me.  We entered the ante-chamber

in fraternal fashion.  Michael beckoned, and three men came forward.

 

"These gentlemen," said Michael, with a stately courtesy which,

to do him justice, he could assume with perfect grace and ease,

"are the loyalest and most devoted of your Majesty's servants,

and are my very faithful and attached friends."

 

"On the last ground as much as the first," said I, "I am very

pleased to see them."

 

They came one by one and kissed my hand--De Gautet, a tall

lean fellow, with hair standing straight up and waxed moustache;

Bersonin, the Belgian, a portly man of middle height with

a bald head (though he was not far past thirty); and last,

the Englishman, Detchard, a narrow-faced fellow, with close-cut

fair hair and a bronzed complexion.  He was a finely made man,

broad in the shoulder and slender in the hips.  A good fighter,

but a crooked customer, I put him down for.  I spoke to him in

English, with a slight foreign accent, and I swear the fellow smiled,

though he hid the smile in an instant.

 

"So Mr. Detchard is in the secret," thought I.

 

Having got rid of my dear brother and his friends, I returned

to make my adieu to my cousin.  She was standing at the door.

I bade her farewell, taking her hand in mine.

 

"Rudolf," she said, very low, "be careful, won't you?"

 

"Of what?"

 

"You know--I can't say.  But think what your life is to--"

 

"Well to--?"

 

"To Ruritania."

 

Was I right to play the part, or wrong to play the part?

I know not:  evil lay both ways, and I dared not tell her the truth.

 

"Only to Ruritania?" I asked softly.

 

A sudden flush spread over her incomparable face.

 

"To your friends, too," she said.

 

"Friends?"

 

"And to your cousin," she whispered, "and loving servant."

 

I could not speak.  I kissed her hand, and went out cursing myself.

 

Outside I found Master Fritz, quite reckless of the footmen,

playing at cat's-cradle with the Countess Helga.

 

"Hang it!" said he, "we can't always be plotting.

Love claims his share."

 

"I'm inclined to think he does," said I; and Fritz,

who had been by my side, dropped respectfully behind.


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...