The prisoner of Zenda
the people received me in silence and with sullen looks, and my dear
brother’s portrait ornamented most of the windows--which was an ironical
sort of greeting to the King. I was quite glad that he had been spared
the unpleasant sight. He was a man of quick temper, and perhaps he would
not have taken it so placidly as I did.
At last we were at the Cathedral. Its great grey front, embellished
with hundreds of statues and boasting a pair of the finest oak doors in
Europe, rose for the first time before me, and the sudden sense of my
audacity almost overcame me. Everything was in a mist as I dismounted. I
saw the Marshal and Sapt dimly, and dimly the throng of gorgeously robed
priests who awaited me. And my eyes were still dim as I walked up the
great nave, with the pealing of the organ in my ears. I saw nothing of
the brilliant throng that filled it, I hardly distinguished the stately
figure of the Cardinal as he rose from the archiepiscopal throne to
greet me. Two faces only stood out side by side clearly before my
eyes--the face of a girl, pale and lovely, surmounted by a crown of the
glorious Elphberg hair (for in a woman it is glorious), and the face
of a man, whose full-blooded red cheeks, black hair, and dark deep eyes
told me that at last I was in the presence of my brother, Black Michael. And
when he saw me his red cheeks went pale all in a moment, and his helmet
fell with a clatter on the floor. Till that moment I believe that he had
not realized that the King was in very truth come to Strelsau.
Of what followed next I remember nothing. I knelt before the altar and
the Cardinal anointed my head. Then I rose to my feet, and stretched out
my hand and took from him the crown of Ruritania and set it on my head,
and I swore the old oath of the King; and (if it were a sin, may it be
forgiven me) I received the Holy Sacrament there before them all. Then
the great organ pealed out again, the Marshal bade the heralds proclaim
me, and Rudolf the Fifth was crowned King; of which imposing ceremony an
excellent picture hangs now in my dining-room. The portrait of the King
is very good.
Then the lady with the pale face and the glorious hair, her train held
by two pages, stepped from her place and came to where I stood. And a
herald cried:
“Her Royal Highness the Princess Flavia!”
She curtsied low, and put her hand under mine and raised my hand and
kissed it. And for an instant I thought what I had best do. Then I
drew her to me and kissed her twice on the cheek, and she blushed red,
and--then his Eminence the Cardinal Archbishop slipped in front of Black
Michael, and kissed my hand and presented me with a letter from the
Pope--the first and last which I have received from that exalted
quarter!
And then came the Duke of Strelsau. His step trembled, I swear, and
he looked to the right and to the left, as a man looks who thinks on
flight; and his face was patched with red and white, and his hand shook
so that it jumped under mine, and I felt his lips dry and parched. And
I glanced at Sapt, who was smiling again into his beard, and, resolutely
doing my duty in that station of life to which I had been marvellously
called, I took my dear Michael by both hands and kissed him on the
cheek. I think we were both glad when that was over!
But neither in the face of the princess nor in that of any other did I
see the least doubt or questioning. Yet, had I and the King stood side
by side, she could have told us in an instant, or, at least, on a little
consideration. But neither she nor anyone else dreamed or imagined that
I could be other than the King. So the likeness served, and for an hour
I stood there, feeling as weary and blase as though I had been a king
all my life; and everybody kissed my hand, and the ambassadors paid me
their respects, among them old Lord Topham, at whose house in Grosvenor
Square I had danced a score of times. Thank heaven, the old man was as
blind as a bat, and did not claim my acquaintance.
Then back we went through the streets to the Palace, and I heard them
cheering Black Michael; but he, Fritz told me, sat biting his nails like
a man in a reverie, and even his own friends said that he should have
made a braver show. I was in a carriage now, side by side with the
Princess Flavia, and a rough fellow cried out:
“And when’s the wedding?” and as he spoke another struck him in the
face, crying “Long live Duke Michael!” and the princess coloured--it was
an admirable tint--and looked straight in front of her.
Now I felt in a difficulty, because I had forgotten to ask Sapt the
state of my affections, or how far matters had gone between the princess
and myself. Frankly, had I been the King, the further they had gone the
better should I have been pleased. For I am not a slow-blooded man, and
I had not kissed Princess Flavia’s cheek for nothing. These thoughts
passed through my head, but, not being sure of my ground, I said
nothing; and in a moment or two the princess, recovering her equanimity,
turned to me.
“Do you know, Rudolf,” said she, “you look somehow different today?”
The fact was not surprising, but the remark was disquieting.
“You look,” she went on, “more sober, more sedate; you’re almost
careworn, and I declare you’re thinner. Surely it’s not possible that
you’ve begun to take anything seriously?”
The princess seemed to hold of the King much the same opinion that Lady
Burlesdon held of me.
I braced myself up to the conversation.
“Would that please you?” I asked softly.
“Oh, you know my views,” said she, turning her eyes away.
“Whatever pleases you I try to do,” I said; and, as I saw her smile and
blush, I thought that I was playing the King’s hand very well for him.
So I continued and what I said was perfectly true:
“I assure you, my dear cousin, that nothing in my life has affected me
more than the reception I’ve been greeted with today.”
She smiled brightly, but in an instant grew grave again, and whispered:
“Did you notice Michael?”
“Yes,” said I, adding, “he wasn’t enjoying himself.”
“Do be careful!” she went on. “You don’t--indeed you don’t--keep enough
watch on him. You know--”
“I know,” said I, “that he wants what I’ve got.”
“Yes. Hush!”
Then--and I can’t justify it, for I committed the King far beyond what I
had a right to do--I suppose she carried me off my feet--I went on:
“And perhaps also something which I haven’t got yet, but hope to win
some day.”
This was my answer. Had I been the King, I should have thought it
encouraging:
“Haven’t you enough responsibilities on you for one day, cousin?”
Bang, bang! Blare, blare! We were at the Palace. Guns were firing
and trumpets blowing. Rows of lackeys stood waiting, and, handing the
princess up the broad marble staircase, I took formal possession, as
a crowned King, of the House of my ancestors, and sat down at my own
table, with my cousin on my right hand, on her other side Black Michael,
and on my left his Eminence the Cardinal. Behind my chair stood Sapt;
and at the end of the table, I saw Fritz von Tarlenheim drain to the
bottom his glass of champagne rather sooner than he decently should.
I wondered what the King of Ruritania was doing.
CHAPTER 6
The Secret of a Cellar
We were in the King’s dressing-room--Fritz von Tarlenheim, Sapt, and I.
I flung myself exhausted into an armchair. Sapt lit his pipe. He uttered
no congratulations on the marvellous success of our wild risk, but his
whole bearing was eloquent of satisfaction. The triumph, aided perhaps
by good wine, had made a new man of Fritz.
“What a day for you to remember!” he cried. “Gad, I’d like to be King
for twelve hours myself! But, Rassendyll, you mustn’t throw your heart
too much into the part. I don’t wonder Black Michael looked blacker than
ever--you and the princess had so much to say to one another.”
“How beautiful she is!” I exclaimed.
“Never mind the woman,” growled Sapt. “Are you ready to start?”
“Yes,” said I, with a sigh.
It was five o’clock, and at twelve I should be no more than Rudolf
Rassendyll. I remarked on it in a joking tone.
“You’ll be lucky,” observed Sapt grimly, “if you’re not the late Rudolf
Rassendyll. By Heaven! I feel my head wobbling on my shoulders every
minute you’re in the city. Do you know, friend, that Michael has had
news from Zenda? He went into a room alone to read it--and he came out
looking like a man dazed.”
“I’m ready,” said I, this news making me none the more eager to linger.
Sapt sat down.
“I must write us an order to leave the city. Michael’s Governor, you
know, and we must be prepared for hindrances. You must sign the order.”
“My dear colonel, I’ve not been bred a forger!”
Out of his pocket Sapt produced a piece of paper.
“There’s the King’s signature,” he said, “and here,” he went on, after
another search in his pocket, “is some tracing paper. If you can’t
manage a ‘Rudolf’ in ten minutes, why--I can.”
“Your education has been more comprehensive than mine,” said I. “You
write it.”
And a very tolerable forgery did this versatile hero produce.
“Now, Fritz,” said he, “the King goes to bed. He is upset. No one is to
see him till nine o’clock tomorrow. You understand--no one?”
“I understand,” answered Fritz.
“Michael may come, and claim immediate audience. You’ll answer that only
princes of the blood are entitled to it.”
“That’ll annoy Michael,” laughed Fritz.
“You quite understand?” asked Sapt again. “If the door of this room is
opened while we’re away, you’re not to be alive to tell us about it.”
“I need no schooling, colonel,” said Fritz, a trifle haughtily.
“Here, wrap yourself in this big cloak,” Sapt continued to me, “and
put on this flat cap. My orderly rides with me to the hunting-lodge
tonight.”
“There’s an obstacle,” I observed. “The horse doesn’t live that can
carry me forty miles.”
“Oh, yes, he does--two of him: one here--one at the lodge. Now, are you
ready?”
“I’m ready,” said I.
Fritz held out his hand.
“In case,” said he; and we shook hands heartily.
“Damn your sentiment!” growled Sapt. “Come along.”
He went, not to the door, but to a panel in the wall.
“In the old King’s time,” said he, “I knew this way well.”
I followed him, and we walked, as I should estimate, near two hundred
yards along a narrow passage. Then we came to a stout oak door. Sapt
unlocked it. We passed through, and found ourselves in a quiet street
that ran along the back of the Palace gardens. A man was waiting for us
with two horses. One was a magnificent bay, up to any weight; the other
a sturdy brown. Sapt signed to me to mount the bay. Without a word
to the man, we mounted and rode away. The town was full of noise and
merriment, but we took secluded ways. My cloak was wrapped over half
my face; the capacious flat cap hid every lock of my tell-tale hair. By
Sapt’s directions, I crouched on my saddle, and rode with such a round
back as I hope never to exhibit on a horse again. Down a long narrow
lane we went, meeting some wanderers and some roisterers; and, as we
rode, we heard the Cathedral bells still clanging out their welcome to
the King. It was half-past six, and still light. At last we came to the
city wall and to a gate.
“Have your weapon ready,” whispered Sapt. “We must stop his mouth, if he
talks.”
I put my hand on my revolver. Sapt hailed the doorkeeper. The stars
fought for us! A little girl of fourteen tripped out.
“Please, sir, father’s gone to see the King.”
“He’d better have stayed here,” said Sapt to me, grinning.
“But he said I wasn’t to open the gate, sir.”
“Did he, my dear?” said Sapt, dismounting. “Then give me the key.”
The key was in the child’s hand. Sapt gave her a crown.
“Here’s an order from the King. Show it to your father. Orderly, open
the gate!”