Simon Hawke - The Zenda Vendetta

Lucas stared at Derringer. “How can that be? According to history, we’re supposed to have five days!”

“Yes, I know. It’s our first evident historical anomaly. I estimate that we have at most until tomorrow before Michael executes his plan. That’s always assuming that things haven’t become completely skewed.”

“Then what the hell are we doing jawing like this?” Finn said.

“Relax, Sergeant,” said Derringer. “I may have only been here a few days, but I’ve been very, very busy. I know what I’m doing. At this very moment, the king is not two miles away from here, in Michael’s hunting lodge. Sapt and von Tarlenheim are both with him. Michael is conspicuously absent. I don’t think he’d risk having Rudolf drugged before tomorrow night. That gives you all day tomorrow. I’ve been keeping them under close surveillance. Rudolf has picked himself a hunting stand from which he has a good view of the stream down in that little valley there, where the deer come to drink. I’ve picked out a spot where you are certain to encounter them. The king has been staying up quite late, getting plastered every night. He goes out to his stand just before sundown. So far, he hasn’t killed anything and I don’t think he’s likely to. Even when he’s sober, he’s a miserable shot. If it wasn’t for Sapt, they’d have nothing to eat. And speaking of food, since it’s been several hundred years since you folks have eaten, I suggest that we make our way down to the village and grab ourselves a bite of supper. The inn has very nice accommodations and the food is really quite good. I can recommend either the venison or the trout. The wine stinks, but their beer is first rate. Besides, one should never save the future of the world on an empty stomach.”

The timing worked out just right. Not five minutes after Finn had taken up position beneath a large oak tree on the wooded trail, he heard men approaching, coming up the rise toward him. He leaned his head back against the tree and pretended to be dozing. A couple of minutes more passed by and then he heard them stop in front of him.

“Why, the devil’s in it!” he heard a young man’s voice exclaim. “Shave him and he’d be the king!”

He opened his eyes and saw two men standing on the trail several feet in front of him, staring in astonishment. Both men carried guns and both were dressed in shooting costumes. One of them was short and heavily built. He had a large head crowned with thick gray-white hair; a huge cavalry moustache; muttonchops and bloodshot eyes. He was smoking a very large-bowled pipe with a deep curve to it, a Turkish meerschaum that had colored unevenly due to his apparent lack of concern in handling it. He appeared to be in his sixties or early seventies, but he was fit and straight-backed with a manner that clearly labeled him a military man. The other man was tall and slender, dark-haired with a small, neatly trimmed moustache and rounded, delicate features that gave his face an insouciant air. He looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He was the one who had spoken. As they came closer and Delaney stood up, the older man backed off a pace and raised his bushy eyebrows.

“He’s the same height, too!” he said. “My word! May I ask your name, sir?”

“The name is Rassendyll,” Finn said. “Rudolf Rassendyll. Am I unintentionally trespassing? I’m a traveler from England, you see, and I have come here on a holiday. If I’ve ignorantly strayed onto your land, I offer my apologies, gentlemen.”

“No, no, you are welcome, sir,” said the younger man. “It was merely your appearance that took us by surprise. Allow me to introduce ourselves. This is Colonel Sapt, and my name is Fritz von Tarlenheim. We are in the service of the King of Ruritania.”

Finn took their hands in turn and while he was shaking the old man’s hand, Sapt exclaimed, “Rassendyll! By heaven, you’re of the Burlesdons?”

“Why, yes,” said Finn. “My brother Robert is now Lord Burlesdon.”

“By God,” said Sapt, “your hair and features betray you, sir.” He chuckled. “Remarkable! You know the story, Fritz?”

From the look on von Tarlenheim’s face, it was clear that he knew the story of Countess Amelia’s indiscretion, but was loath to admit to it for fear of bringing up an awkward subject. Finn took him off the hook.

“It seems the story of Countess Amelia and Prince Rudolf is as well known here as it is in London,” he said, smiling.

“Not only is the story well known,” said Sapt, “but if you stay here, sir, not a man or woman in all of Ruritania will doubt it!”

At that moment, another voice cried out from lower on the trail, “Fritz! Sapt! Where the devil have you two disappeared to?”

“It’s the king!” said von Tarlenheim.

“He’s in for a bit of a surprise,” said Sapt.

As Rudolf Elphberg came into view, Finn could not help staring at him. Though he had seen the hologram, it was still a shock. It was like looking in a mirror. Elphberg was his exact double down to the last dimple, save for the absence of a beard. He saw Finn and froze, staring at him open-mouthed. Finn had been prepared to feign a look of surprise, but found that in spite of being prepared, he didn’t have to fake it. After a moment, it occurred to him that protocol demanded a respectful bow.

“Good Lord!” said Elphberg. “Colonel, Fritz, who is this gentleman?”

Finn was about to answer when Colonel Sapt moved over to speak softly to the king. As Sapt whispered to him, Elphberg’s eyes grew even wider, then he burst out laughing.

“Strike me dead!” he said, still laughing as he came up to take Finn’s hand and slap him on the back. “Well met, cousin! For a moment, I thought that the effects of last night’s merriment had not quite worn off and I was seeing visions! Hah! Fritz, I’ll give a thousand crowns for a sight of Michael’s face when he sees the pair of us! You must come to Strelsau with me, Cousin Rudolf! Seeing one of me upsets my brother’s stomach, but seeing two would give him a stroke, for certain!”

“With all due respect to both Your Majesty and Mr. Rassendyll,” said Fritz von Tarlenheim, cautiously, “I question the wisdom in your cousin visiting Strelsau at the moment.”

“Oh, balderdash,” the king said. “Where’s the harm?”

“No, Fritz is right, Your Majesty,” said Sapt. “He mustn’t go.”

“I wish to cause no one embarrassment,” Finn said, feeling that he had to say it and hoping like hell they wouldn’t take him up on it. “I’ll leave Ruritania at once.”

“By thunder, you will do no such thing!” the king said. “Pay no mind to these two old women. At any rate, I insist that you dine with me tonight, happen what will afterward. Come, man, you don’t meet a new relation every day!”

“We dine sparingly tonight, Your Majesty,” Fritz said, a bit awkwardly.

“Not we!” the king said. “Not with our new cousin as our guest! Don’t look so alarmed, Fritz, you old stick in the mud. I’ll remember our early start tomorrow.”

“So shall I,” said Sapt, puffing out clouds of heavy Latakia smoke and frowning.

“Well then, I can count on you to roust my royal carcass out of bed, then,” said the king. “Come, Cousin Rudolf, the devil with the shooting for tonight. The deer avoid me like the plague. Besides, the two of us have much to talk about. I’ve no house of my own here, but my brother Michael lends us a place of his and we’ll make shift to entertain you there.”

They started back down the hill and walked for half an hour down the trail until they came to a wooden hunting lodge, a large, one-story building with a steep roof and a small, railed porch. Elphberg peppered Finn with countless questions about himself and his family, to which Finn responded cautiously, drawing on the subknowledge of his implant programming. Fortunately, Finn didn’t have to do much talking, as Rudolf practically never shut up. He was having a high old time while Sapt and von Tarlenheim walked behind them, clearly apprehensive about this sudden turn of events. For his part, Finn found the king to be a pleasant enough fellow, but completely wrapped up in himself. No sooner would he ask Finn a question than he would interrupt his answer to provide some anecdote about himself, his ancestors or somebody at court. He was not rude, exactly, just uncontrollably ebullient and lacking in any sort of concentration. His voice even sounded similar to Finn’s, although it had a pomposity to it and a slightly higher pitch.