Simon Hawke - The Zenda Vendetta

The long, wide, tree-lined avenue that ran straight for a distance of about two miles to “Black Michael’s” chateau was immaculately maintained. It led up to a large courtyard in front of the chateau, then curled around the east side of the estate, making a wide loop around Zenda Castle, following the moat which was as wide as a medium-sized river. Having rounded half the castle, the road then ran south, away from the estate and into the forest, through a small pass and to the village of Zenda. The avenue that led to the chateau’s front entrance ran in the opposite direction to the road that led from Zenda to the capital city of Strelsau.

Though it was dwarfed by the castle situated directly behind it, the chateau was nevertheless quite large. Built in the French style, it was five stories high with an elaborate, columned portico and a steeply gabled roof. Its gleaming whiteness was a stark contrast to the murky gray stone of the castle that loomed over it.

“It’s a rather curious architectural mixture,” said Derringer. “The chateau was built by the last king as a country residence, because he evidently liked the castle a great deal but felt it too uncomfortable to live in. Only that one small drawbridge you see connects the castle to the chateau. It spans the moat about twenty feet above it and it’s wide enough for three or four men to cross it abreast. It won’t accommodate a carriage. With the construction of the chateau, the only way to get into the castle now is to go through the chateau. The back door is flush with the wall and it opens directly out onto the drawbridge or the moat if the drawbridge has been raised. The castle itself seems to have been constructed in stages. The oldest part is the central portion. You’ll notice that there are no baillies. Apparently, there were at one time, but at some point, perhaps during the construction of the chateau, the outer walls were torn down and the moat was widened.”

“It does look larger than any I’ve ever seen before,” said Andre.

“That’s right,” said Derringer, with a grin. “You’re our resident knight errant, aren’t you?”

“I’ve seen many castles in my day,” she said. “This one appears to be old, but quite impregnable. I can see where the weak point in the fortifications was reinforced by building that embrasured keep on the southwest corner, but I am puzzled by that addition with the two small towers there, jutting out over the moat. It seems to serve no useful defensive purpose.”

“I think I can explain that,” Derringer said. “That was done most recently. I haven’t been inside, but judging by appearances, I’d guess that much of the old castle is in a state of disrepair. The squared-off section sticking out into the moat was probably added as a sort of guesthouse, so that people can move back and forth between the castle and the chateau. It’s the only part of the castle where I’ve seen lights burning.”

“That would explain it, then,” she said. “It’s a strange arrangement, but an effective one. Though the placement of the cheateau directly in front of the castle limits visibility somewhat, it also renders a frontal attack in force almost impossible. The chateau might be taken without much difficulty, but then there would only be the one narrow access point to the portcullis to be defended.”

“How would you take it if you had to?” said Derringer.

Andre shrugged. “I would lay seige.”

Finn grimaced sourly. “That would be a bit hard to do with just four people,” he said. “Especially since we can’t use much in the way of modern ordnance. We’re supposed to believe that a pampered Englishman like Rassendyll managed to break in there and get the king out?”

“Perhaps he wasn’t all that pampered,” Derringer said. “Supposedly, he had been a military officer.”

“Just the same,” said Finn, “I’m not anxious to try rescuing anyone from that place.”

“Maybe our best bet would be to prevent the duke from kidnapping the king in the first place,” said Andre.

Derringer smiled. “You’re assuming that you can. I’m afraid that option isn’t open to you. You’re in the curious position of having to effect an adjustment in which there’s such a strong manifestation of the Fate Factor in evidence that it makes me wonder at the possibility for any independent action on your part. Any deviation from the original scenario beyond what has already happened is simply unthinkable. You can’t adjust a disruption with another disruption, Corporal Cross. Unfortunately, your options are limited, whereas the Timekeepers are free to attempt whatever they please. I don’t envy you your task in preserving the original scenario.”

“There’s just one little problem,” Lucas said. “If we don’t know for sure what the original scenario was, how can we help but deviate from it?”

Derringer shrugged. “You can’t, I’m afraid. The best you can do is to follow the original scenario as closely as you can within the limits of what we know about it and hope like hell that temporal inertia compensates. Sergeant Delaney’s going to have to take his lead from Colonel Sapt and Fritz von Tarlenheim. I’ll admit that it would be very tempting to foil Michael Elphberg’s plot before it ever gets off the ground, but although that might restore the status quo in the long run, it would still alter the original sequence of events as we know them. I could almost guarantee you that you wouldn’t get away with it. Apparently, the Fate Factor is attempting to compensate for something that happened back in the 17th century or maybe earlier. None of us knows what that is, but it makes no difference. With all of these coincidences cropping up like temporal ‘tilt’ signals in some sort of cosmic pinball game, do you really want to take the chance that two wrongs will make a right? From a purely academic standpoint, I must admit to a certain morbid fascination. I’d be curious to see what would happen if you failed. Do we get a massive timestream split that branches off into all sorts of alternate timelines or does time bend back in upon itself and start going round in ever decreasing circles ‘til it stops? I’ve always been fascinated by zen physics, but I never thought I’d actually be confronting it in a field exer-sorry, a mission, it makes me feel as though the Sword of Damocles were hanging over all our heads, suspended by a spider web.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Captain,” Finn said, “but how old are you?”

“Twenty-nine,” said Derringer. “You’re wondering how a baby like me managed to get through RCS?”

“Well… frankly, yes,” said Finn.

Derringer grinned. “I cut my teeth on temporal physics,” he said. “Albrecht Mensinger was my grandfather.”

“I’ll be damned,” said Finn. “Small wonder they assigned you to this mission.”

“That may have had something to do with it,” said Derringer. “On the other hand, perhaps it’s another one of these coincidences we’re swimming in. Maybe it’s karma. Do you believe in karma, Sergeant?”

“Only when it’s bad,” said Finn.

Derringer chuckled. “An answer worthy of Lenny Bruce.”

“I’m afraid I miss the reference,” said Finn.

“Ah. Well, he was a sort of 20th-century philosopher who refined bad karma to an art. Sorry, I tend to be a bit obscure at times. I understand my work well enough to realize that I really don’t understand it at all. To paraphrase, there is more to heaven and earth than is dreamed of in our philosophy.”

“Well, that one, at least, I know,” said Finn. “William Shakespeare, right?”

Derringer raised his eyebrows. “Really? I thought it was Albert Einstein. It’s the sort of thing he would have said, at any rate. Oh, and speaking of bad karma, there’s yet another piece of unpleasant news I have for you. The coronation has been moved up to the day after tomorrow.”