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<h2> CHAPTER 20 </h2>
<h3> The Prisoner and the King </h3>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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:</p>
<p>"Madame, the King is here—in the bushes! May I guide you to him,
madame?"</p>
<p>"Nonsense, child!" said old Strakencz; "the King lies wounded in the
Castle."</p>
<p>"Yes, sir, he's wounded, I know; but he's there—with Count Fritz—and
not at the Castle," she persisted.</p>
<p>"Is he in two places, or are there two Kings?" asked Flavia, bewildered.
"And how should he be there?"</p>
<p>"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?"</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"In the Castle?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Where else, madame?" said he, bowing.</p>
<p>"But this girl says he is yonder—with Count Fritz."</p>
<p>Sapt turned his eyes on the child with an incredulous smile.</p>
<p>"Every fine gentleman is a King to such," said he.</p>
<p>"Why, he's as like the King as one pea to another, madame!" cried the
girl, a little shaken but still obstinate.</p>
<p>Sapt started round. The old Marshal's face asked unspoken questions.
Flavia's glance was no less eloquent. Suspicion spread quick.</p>
<p>"I'll ride myself and see this man," said Sapt hastily.</p>
<p>"Nay, I'll come myself," said the princess.</p>
<p>"Then come alone," he whispered.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"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:</p>
<p>"It is he! Are you hurt?"</p>
<p>And she fell on the ground by me, and gently pulled my hands away; but I
kept my eyes to the ground.</p>
<p>"It is the King!" she said. "Pray, Colonel Sapt, tell me where lay the wit
of the joke you played on me?"</p>
<p>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:</p>
<p>"It is not the King. Don't kiss him; he's not the King."</p>
<p>She drew back for a moment; then, with an arm still round my neck, she
asked, in superb indignation:</p>
<p>"Do I not know my love? Rudolf my love!"</p>
<p>"It is not the King," said old Sapt again; and a sudden sob broke from
tender-hearted Fritz.</p>
<p>It was the sob that told her no comedy was afoot.</p>
<p>"He is the King!" she cried. "It is the King's face—the King's ring—my
ring! It is my love!"</p>
<p>"Your love, madame," said old Sapt, "but not the King. The King is there
in the Castle. This gentleman—"</p>
<p>"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!"</p>
<p>Then I spoke, gazing into her eyes.</p>
<p>"God forgive me, madame!" I said. "I am not the King!"</p>
<p>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.</p>
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