Simon Hawke - The Zenda Vendetta

Finn had already heard it. “Horses,” he said.

Sapt swung up into the saddle. “It could be a pursuit,” he said. “It sounds like they’re riding hard. Quickly, man, set spur!”

The growing dark and the curving road sheltered them from their pursuers as they worked their horses to a lather once again. After a half an hour’s ride, they came to a division in the road and Sapt reined in.

“Our way is to the right,” he said. “The left road leads to Zenda Castle. Get down and muzzle your horse. I want to see who rides behind us and which way they are headed.”

They took their horses into the trees at the side of the road and held them on short rein with their hands covering their muzzles. They had a clear view of the road. Before very long, two horsemen rode into view, one leading the other by about three lengths. The first rider reached the division of the road and reined in.

“Which way?” he said.

“Hentzau!” Sapt said softly.

“To the castle,” said the other loudly, having pulled even with Hentzau. “We’ll learn the truth of the matter there. I’ll know why Detchard sends word that all is well when they have bungled it! They’ll have much to answer for!”

As he watched them ride off at full gallop down the road to Zenda Castle, Sapt swore. “Hentzau and Black Michael! This bodes ill, indeed!”

“Who’s Hentzau?” Finn said. Though it was a name he knew from his mission programming, Rassendyll would not have heard it.

“Rupert Hentzau,” Sapt said. “A young gamecock soldier of fortune Michael found somewhere. Of the six throat-cutters he has retained of late, Hentzau is the worst. He’ll be at Michael’s own throat if Michael doesn’t watch him. I don’t like the looks of this at all. Come, full speed to the lodge!”

Sapt leaped into the saddle with a spryness that belied his years and took off down the road leading to the lodge. Finn had to ride hard to stay with the old man and both horses were about done in. When they reached the hunting lodge, there was no sign of life anywhere about. The horses were still out in the paddock when they should have long since been taken back into their stalls. Although it was dark and the night was chill, there were no lights burning in the lodge; there was no smoke curling from the chimney.

“Something’s gone wrong,” said Sapt, drawing his revolver. “Watch yourself, Rassendyll.”

Finn had a revolver of his own that Sapt had given him, a top-break British Webley, but he felt much more secure knowing that he had a small laser tucked into his boot.

The lodge was empty. Sapt made his way directly to the wine cellar, reaching it just ahead of Finn. Finn heard him cry out as he came through the door. There was no sign of the old woman whom Sapt had tied up. More importantly, there was no sign of the king. There was only old Josef, lying on the floor of the cellar with his throat cut.

Sapt was bent over the table, sitting on the edge of his chair, his hands clenched into fists and gouging at his temples. “I’ve got to think!” he kept saying in a low, savage voice, over and over again.

The shock of seeing Josef dead and the king gone had thrown the old soldier. He was trying to wrench himself out of it, not quite knowing how.

“The old woman must have gotten loose somehow,” said Finn, trying to prompt him, to get his motor started.

“No, no,” said Sapt, “I tied her up myself, I tell you. She could barely move!”

“Then it must have been Josef,” Finn said. “They would have been alone for some time before the guard came to escort the king, right?”

Sapt looked at him, puzzled, still not quite recovered.

“She’s lying there, a poor, harmless old woman, somebody’s grandmother, for Christ’s sake, bound hand and foot and gagged. Josef sits there watching her, waiting for the guard to come so that he can go upstairs and tell them that the king has departed early without waiting for them. She stares up at him with wide, frightened eyes. Perhaps she’s crying, maybe she is having trouble breathing. She moans pathetically. The ropes are cutting into her skin, stopping the circulation. Poor old Josef wrestles with his conscience, then gives in. He’ll loosen her bonds just a bit, perhaps adjust her gag, make it easier for the poor old girl to breathe. The guard of honor arrives and Josef goes upstairs to greet them.”

“And she gets loose somehow or cries out!” said Sapt, snapping out of it at last. “Yes, it must have been something like that. Damn it, I should have killed her to begin with!”

“Could you have?” said Finn, gently. “She was just an old woman after all, being loyal to her master.”

“Yes, you’re right, of course,” said Sapt. “Thank you, Rassendyll. I imagine that it must have happened almost exactly as you say. Detchard would have been with the guard, of course. Michael’s given the blackguard a commission. Possibly Bersonin, as well, maybe one or two of the others. The Six, that’s how they’re known. Black Michael’s private squad of bodyguards. A killer, each and every one of them. I see what must have happened now. The old woman somehow managed to alert them and Detchard and several of the others stayed behind while they sent the guard on ahead. They found the king, much as they expected to, killed poor Josef, and sent word on ahead to Michael that all was well. Only, having seen you, Michael knew that all was far from well. The moment he sees the real king, he’ll realize what we have done. And the old woman, of course, can tell him who you are. We are undone. We are completely undone. All is lost.”

“Where will they have taken the king?” said Finn.

“To Zenda Castle, undoubtedly,” said Sapt. “No hope of freeing him from there. The place is a fortress.”

“We must do something, Sapt,” Finn said. “We must get back and rouse every soldier in Strelsau.”

“And tell them what?” said Sapt. “That we had arranged for an imposter to be crowned while the real king lay drunk in Zenda? You forget, Rassendyll, that much of the army sides with Michael. How can we tell them what Michael has done without revealing our deception?”

“But the king may be murdered even as we sit here!” Finn said, trusting to the old soldier’s quick thinking to leap to the logical conclusion. Sapt did not disappoint him.

“No, by God!” he said, rising to his feet with a wild gleam in his eyes. “No, they can’t. They will not dare!”

Finn looked at him with feigned uncomprehension.

“We’ve shaken up Black Michael, by the Saints,” he said, “and we’ll shake him some more! Aye, we’ll go back to Strelsau, lad. The king shall be in his capitol again tomorrow!”

“The king?” said Finn, still playing dumb.

“The crowned king!” Sapt said.

“You’re mad!” said Finn. “We’d never get away with it.”

“If we go back now and tell them what we’ve done,” said Sapt, “what would you give for our lives?”

“Just what they’re worth,” said Finn.

“And for the king’s throne? Do you think for one moment that the nobles and the army and the people will sit still for being fooled the way we’ve fooled them? Will they love a king who was too drunk to be crowned and sent a servant to impersonate him?”

“He was drugged,” said Finn, “and I’m not his servant.”

“Mine will be Black Michael’s version,” Sapt said. “Can you disprove it?”

Finn chewed on his lower lip. “No,” he said. “You’re right, Sapt, that would be playing right into Michael’s hands.”

“So we do the one thing left for us to do! You must return with me and continue playing the king. Michael will know the truth, as will those who are in on his plot with him, but don’t you see, Rassendyll? They cannot speak! Just as we cannot speak for fear of revealing what we have done, so they are in the same predicament! Do they denounce you as a fraud, thereby revealing that they have kidnapped the king and killed his servant? No, they cannot. Michael has the king in his power now, true, and in that his plot has succeeded better than he had hoped. Your playing Rudolf enables him to keep the king a prisoner, but he cannot murder him, for that could make your impersonation a lifelong one. Nor can he produce the king to unmask you without unmasking himself, as well. It is a stalemate. A stalemate works in our favor. We need time to plan and you can buy us that time!”