The Henchmen of Zenda Read online

  I whistled. “He’s got more spine than I would have guessed.”

  “He’s certainly a force to be reckoned with against a sleeping man,” Hentzau agreed. “I did not have the chance to engage him directly myself.”

  “And the Six are down to four,” de Gautet said. “I regret our companions. We shall doubtless have an opportunity to avenge them.”

  “Michael wants close guard kept now,” Hentzau said. “He wishes to speak with you all. Although that would leave the king with only your humble servant as protector, a fact I fear he may have forgotten. Detchard, stay with me. De Gautet, do me the service of advising His Grace that we stay to guard his brother.”

  In the face of such cheek, de Gautet and Bersonin merely bowed and withdrew. Hentzau escorted them to the Tower door, locked and bolted it, turned to me, and said, “I killed Krafstein.”

  “An interesting manoeuvre while outnumbered in a fight. Any reason beyond his personality?”

  “You are enraging,” Hentzau said, with some vigour. “I tell you I murdered one of the Six and that is all you have to say?”

  “What do you want me to do, congratulate you? Well done on a successful assassination. Stop playing the fool and tell me why.”

  Hentzau gave me a mock-glower which in no way hid the fact that he was relishing every moment. If ever I knew a soul born to walk the edge, it was he.

  “As I say, I killed him in the struggle, once we had set about Rassendyll’s men. Lauengram fought damned bravely, but I saw him go down under two swords at once, one to the chest. It struck me as a good opportunity to deal with Krafstein too. We can better control the situation with fewer actors on the scene.”

  “Probably true, as long as you weren’t seen,” I agreed. “I conclude that you have taken my side, then?”

  “I have done no such thing,” he said. “I was trying to tell you this before Michael interrupted us the other day. You’ve taken mine.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You know perfectly well I’m no lover of the duke,” he said. “I’m surprised you didn’t see it yourself, to be honest. I’m Flavia’s man. Have been all along.”

  I stared at him. He gave me an absurd grin compounded of bravado, amusement, and a hint of “dog wondering if the master likes large dead rats after all.”

  “You’re working for the princess?”

  “In her interests, certainly.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since before I got here. It’s why I came. She spoke to me months ago, when I was still drinking with Rudolf; it was she who suggested I switch allegiance between the brothers so that I could play spy in Michael’s camp for her.”

  “But— Is that what you were doing with those surreptitious trips to Zenda?”

  “Mmm. I don’t think I managed that any too well; I didn’t realise how suspicious Michael was. And then I was meant to seduce de Mauban to Flavia’s side by whatever means necessary, but you wouldn’t let me get near her, so on the whole I haven’t been a great deal of use, really. I suppose you were looking for clues to de Mauban’s child when you were burgling his rooms?”

  “Failing to burgle. Yes. Oh, for Christ’s sake. You really might have said. If we’d known back in the lodge, when this started—”

  “Believe me, that has occurred to me more than once. I thought you were loyal to Michael, so I acted accordingly.”

  “As did I. God damn it,” I said. “Fine. Can’t be helped. And have you a grand plan of which I should know?”

  “Not at all. I have not received any messages from Flavia recently.”

  “Antoinette may have. You and she should speak. Hentzau, tell me this: if Flavia wins, will you be safe? As her man, I mean?”

  “Not at all, no. She told me she will not protect me at risk of her own character, and her hand cannot be seen in the business. If Rassendyll wins, I shall have to fend for myself. You look stern; why? She is a woman of her word, and she doesn’t make promises she cannot keep. I knew what I was getting into, my Detchard.”

  “I’m sure you did. And you do it for the joy of being a nuisance?”

  “Do you know, I’m not sure,” he said thoughtfully. “Because it’s adventure, yes, and in a lady’s name. But—don’t laugh, will you?— I think it’s possible I do it for Ruritania too. You asked me what I thought a while ago, and I told the truth so far as I could. Well, the full truth is, I think Flavia will bring fresh air to a country that sorely needs it. She has ideas, where the brothers Elphberg have never wanted the crown for any reason but to prevent the other one from getting it. I think the whole world is changing, and we need to change with it, and not by sliding into vassalage with Germany or Britain either.” He gave me a laughing shrug. “For heaven’s sake, don’t tell anyone I’m a patriot, will you? It would ruin my reputation, and I really don’t plan to do it again.”

  “I doubt you’ll have the chance once your head has been removed,” I said. “Well, I shall keep your altruism secret if you don’t tell anyone I’m doing all this for the sake of a baby.”

  “That is quite sickeningly sentimental,” he agreed. “Here’s to ruthless mercenary callousness.”

  “Quite. I’ll speak to Antoinette and let her know,” I said. “She may be able to communicate with Flavia, or serve as a go-between if Michael insists on keeping you and I apart.”

  “Tiresome bastard that he is. Excellent. And, Detchard?”

  “Mmm?”

  He gave me a wry grin. “Thank you for trusting me. With you on my side—”

  “You’re on my side.”

  “Either way, I really couldn’t ask for a better companion in treason. I begin to feel reasonably positive.”

  “Your optimism amazes me,” I said. “Speaking of plots, we should ensure we look sufficiently dishevelled when we emerge from here. For verisimilitude.”

  “Verisimilitude is my great goal in life,” he agreed, and stepped into my arms.

  THE HOSTILITIES OF that night inevitably drew a certain amount of attention from the general public. Rassendyll had lost three of his well-bred men, and Lauengram was of a noble family. Duelling was a commonplace in Ruritania, but not at such a high and deadly rate, and people shook their heads over this renewed outbreak of factional hostilities between the king and his brother. Accordingly, the player-king issued a grave statement condemning the violence, and a public apology to Michael for the loss of his men. Michael returned an even more fulsome apology, and both sides existed in a state of inaction for a few days as the public tutting died down. This dancing around what was, in effect, a civil war may seem absurd, but both Michael and Rassendyll had far too much to hide, and neither could afford to face close examination of his actions.

  We shipped Krafstein’s body back to his family, but Lauengram’s elderly mother requested he be buried by the duke, his master. Michael therefore arranged a sombre procession, which was to pass through Zenda (and with luck inflame feeling against the king’s men). The coffin was placed on a funeral carriage drawn by four black horses, and Hentzau and I were tasked to accompany it. De Gautet and Bersonin guarded the king; Michael kept up his pretence of scarlet fever.

  The procession wound its way down the hill as slowly and tediously as these things always do. I rode behind Hentzau but could not benefit from the view, as I had my eyes straight ahead in the correct show of respect, which meant that they fell on the party of riders at the bottom of the hill: a red-haired man and a red-haired woman, both finely dressed, along with a stout military man and a bevy of attendants. I heard Hentzau give a quiet hissing laugh.

  Rassendyll sent a groom over to our party. He exchanged a word with Hentzau, who halted the funerary procession with a wave of his hand and beckoned to me. We rode up to the player-king together.

  Rassendyll had a good seat on a horse and looked well enough in his borrowed plumage, a bright blue military-style coat. He appeared somewhat garish to my mind, especially next to Rupert of Hentzau’s sombre magnificence in a black f
rock-coat, but perhaps that was only my partiality. I was significantly more interested in the Princess Flavia. She was pale and composed, dressed with elegance and restraint, red hair pinned up, nothing given away. She looked between us all, and her eyes met mine.

  Hentzau gave the king’s party a low bow. “Your Majesty asks whom we escort. It is my dear friend, Albert of Lauengram, slain in a contretemps with—well, it would be tactless to say it.”

  “Sir, no one regrets the unfortunate affair more than I,” Rassendyll replied with equal insincerity. “My ordinance, which I mean to have obeyed, is witness to it.”

  “My condolences. The poor fellow,” said Flavia. It was not a particularly heartfelt statement, but Hentzau bowed again as though she had poured out her soul with tears.

  “Your Majesty’s words are gracious,” he said. “I grieve for my friend. Yet, sire, others must soon lie as he lies now.”

  “It is a thing we all do well to remember, my lord,” Rassendyll snapped back.

  “Even kings, sire,” Hentzau added sententiously. “Even kings die.”

  “It is true. How fares my brother, my lord?”

  “He is better, sire. He hopes soon to leave for Strelsau, when his health is secured.”

  “He is only convalescent then?” Rassendyll asked.

  “There remain one or two small troubles bothering him,” Hentzau returned with a flashing smile.

  “Express my earnest hope that they may soon cease to trouble him,” Flavia said. Her tone was again unemotional, and both Hentzau and Rassendyll turned and bowed to her.

  “Your Royal Highness’s wish is, humbly, my own,” said Hentzau. “I bid your majesties good day; we go on sadder duty.”

  We bowed and turned our horses, but a moment later Rassendyll hailed us back, and came trotting up, unaccompanied. “One more word with you, Hentzau—apart.”

  Colonel Sapt was glaring at the pair, with one hand on his revolver. I glanced at Hentzau, who nodded, and I fell back as he and Rassendyll rode aside. I nudged my horse to take me in a circle as though she were ambling freely, and was not at all surprised when Princess Flavia came up to me.

  “Mr. Detchard,” she said. “I believe you and I have friends in common.”

  I bowed, something I do with a great deal less grace than Hentzau. She gave me a warm smile. “Let’s not waste time, shall we? De Mauban tells me you stand by her. She has a means of contacting me, if that is necessary. Are you willing to serve me, Mr. Detchard?”

  “I am willing to act for Antoinette,” I said. “I’m not one for service.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “And why do you stand with de Mauban rather than your master or your countryman—or me?”

  “I put friendship above country, a very long way,” I said. “Ruritania’s affairs are not my business. And I have a bone to pick with Michael Elphberg.”

  She nodded, as though a hired murderer might reasonably have a quarrel with a duke. “And your goal in all this? What is it you hope to win?”

  “Antoinette and her child together and safe across the border. If you do your part in achieving that, milady, I’ll do mine.”

  Her look was somewhat dry. “You don’t ask for reward, or for indemnity? I’m a little old to believe in the kindness of mercenaries, Mr. Detchard.”

  “I’m not doing you a kindness, madam, and as far as I’m aware, you’re not offering indemnity. So Hentzau tells me, at least,” I added. Not that I doubted him as such, but one would be a fool not to check.

  “I am not,” she said. “I offered that young man something of much greater value to him.”

  “An adventure?”

  Her lips curved. I had had a feeling she wouldn’t be entirely immune to his charm. “Quite.”

  “That works for young men. As for me, I owe Antoinette a debt. If you will find her daughter, you have my hand on her behalf.”

  She considered me, face intent, then gave me a pretty, smiling nod of the head, by which I deduced that Rassendyll was returning. “The work is afoot. If it is in my power, Mademoiselle de Mauban will have her child; certainly she will have my protection whatever may befall. I give you my word on that, as an Elphberg and a woman.” There was just a slight flare to her nostrils when she said that, and I wondered if the princess had fellow-feeling with the courtesan. Being destined from birth to wed Red Rudolf might make something of a suffragette even out of an aristocrat.

  I bowed my thanks. She nodded. “Go well, Englishman.”

  I bowed again, aware of other eyes on me, and took myself off to the somewhat neglected funeral cortège, passing an exasperated-looking Rassendyll on the way. We maintained decorum all the way to the church, and through the service, which was mercifully brief and sparsely attended, but did not trouble to hold our positions on our return to the castle.

  “What were you talking to Flavia about?” Hentzau asked.

  “She assured me that she will keep Antoinette safe, and throw us to the wolves without compunction. Tell me about Rassendyll.”

  “He offered me money and safe conduct to bring him the king alive.”

  “I doubt you could manage it, and I don’t believe in his safe conduct for a minute.”

  “No, nor do I. In any case that was merely an opening gambit for negotiations. I suggested instead that we plan his attack on the castle together.”

  I choked. “You what?”

  “It makes sense. I told him that he should arrange the time of the attack with me, and I will make sure Michael is killed and Rudolf disappears.”

  “And why would he believe that was a genuine offer?” I asked, with some exasperation.

  “I told him I wanted a free hand with the lovely Antoinette,” Hentzau explained. “That she only has eyes for Michael, who is cursedly in my way. So if I could remove him—”

  “—she would immediately fall into your arms over the corpse of her lover? Even Rassendyll couldn’t believe that.”

  “I don’t think he’s concerned with her opinion,” Hentzau said. “The point is that with Michael dead, there would be nobody to protect her from me. I think I made it plausible, and I asked for money too. He cursed me roundly, but he’s thinking about it.”

  “It’s a risk,” I said. “Michael has always felt uncertain of you. Suppose Rassendyll decides to sow dissension by revealing your double dealing?”

  “Well, he may. I hope Flavia will encourage him to more dramatic action, though. And if we could direct his plans, it would be worth a great deal.”

  “True enough,” I said. “Be careful, though. Michael is a jealous brute, and if you show interest in Antoinette, she’s likely to be the one who suffers for it.”

  “She knows that,” Hentzau said, with the laugh in his eyes for once absent. “She and I have spoken, and she’ll play her part like the rest of us. Chivalry doesn’t become you, Detchard.”

  “I look to my friends.”

  “Your friends can look to themselves. I want Michael to believe in my interest in de Mauban, and she is happy to let me proceed. And if I catch you attempting to wrap me in cotton wool, you and I will fall out.”

  I raised a hand. “Noted. I will simply observe that, if your interest is real, you should know that Antoinette eats boys like you for breakfast, and picks her teeth with the bones.”

  Hentzau gave a shout of laughter, wildly inappropriate for his sombre dress. “I can well imagine. I would love to find out, I admit—not now, but once she has regained control of her destiny. Should you object, do you think?”

  I found myself pleased that he had asked. It suggested an interest in continuing our association which I found unnervingly welcome. “As you say, she can look to herself and so can you. And I claim no right over your affections. You may do as you please—so long as it pleases Antoinette, needless to say—and so shall I. But I appreciate the courtesy.”

  Hentzau grinned at me. “My morals may be lacking, but I do try to maintain my manners.”

  “It is amazing to me how those are the first
thing to go in any affair,” I remarked. “I don’t need fidelity, or adoration, or extravagant vows. Those are all will-o’-the-wisps. Whereas good manners require effort.”

  And so we rode on, talking for all the world as though we were not two murderers in the process of committing treason at a funeral, and I can only say, that is what Ruritania and Rupert Hentzau do to a man.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Rassendyll’s next move—or possibly Flavia’s—took the castle of Zenda entirely by surprise. With the pair of them still in Tarlenheim, it was given out that a date had been set for public solemnisation of their betrothal. This ceremony is near as binding as marriage under Ruritanian law, and it would be celebrated in Strelsau cathedral in a fortnight’s time.

  Michael reacted furiously. He was sure now that Rassendyll intended to steal the throne in plain sight, and he felt helpless to object. His mood was not improved by Hentzau’s reaction, which was to wish Antoinette joy on a rival gone, and observe that the princess had, on the whole, probably made the best choice. Michael cursed him in the foulest language and informed me that I should keep my catamite under control. Hentzau laughed in his face and kissed Antoinette’s hand; she slapped him with such force that any man might have been convinced except I. When Antoinette really intended a slap to count, she turned her rings inwards so that they drew blood.

  All told, it was Happy Families in the castle of Zenda as we waited for the endgame.

  Johann, the treacherous keeper, had been informed that the king lay gravely ill and would surely be dead already were it not for Antoinette’s tender nursing. Words fail me. But he believed it, and took that message back to Colonel Sapt. This presented the impostor with a clear choice: he must attempt to rescue the king, or openly decide to let the man die. I don’t know what went on in Tarlenheim then, and Rassendyll’s account is not worth the paper it’s written on, but at last the player-king made his choice.