Simon Hawke - The Zenda Vendetta

“Countess Helga von Strofzin,” von Tarlenheim explained, a bit awkwardly, “is lady in waiting to the princess. We are, I suppose one might say, rather close.”

Sapt chuckled. This time, it was von Tarlenheim who shot him an irate look.

“From Helga, that is, from the Countess von Strofzin-”

“Let’s just call her Helga,” Finn said, “to make things simpler.”

“Yes, well. From Helga, I have learned that Princess Flavia is resigned to wedding Rudolf, rather than looking forward to it. She bears him little love. Well,” he cleared his throat, uneasily, “none at all, to be quite frank.”

“Why’s that?” said Finn.

“Because, well, dear me, how shall I put it-”

“I’ll put it for you,” Sapt said, gruffly. “Were Rudolf not betrothed to her from birth, his feelings toward her might well have been different, but as it is, he regards her as a duty, so to speak, and Rudolf has never been the most dutiful of men.”

“In other words,” said Finn, “you’re telling me that he neglects her, takes her for granted?”

“Well, in a word,” began Fritz, awkwardly, only to be interrupted by Colonel Sapt.

“In a word, yes,” said Sapt. “What the devil’s wrong with you, Fritz? This is no time for delicacy.” He looked back at Finn. “Rudolf pays about as much attention to her as he does to his saddle. It’s there, it belongs to him, he’ll use it when he needs it and when not, someone will care for it and relieve him of the bother.”

“The man’s a damn fool,” said Finn.

“See here, now, Rassendyll,” said Fritz.

“Be quiet, Fritz,” said Sapt. “Rudolf’s right. The king’s a damn fool. Flavia would make any man a fine and loyal wife. She’s intelligent, well-mannered, considerate to a fault and beautiful, as well. What man could ask for more? Rudolf treats her little better than he does his servants. He’s a damn fool, all right, but he’s our damn fool, worse luck, and we must stand by him. But, by God, I’ll not condone the way he treats her!”

“The people like her a great deal, I assume,” said Finn.

“Like her?” Fritz said. “I should say they like her. She is their darling.”

“Then perhaps we should take steps to make her Rudolf Elphberg’s darling, as well,” said Finn.

“Now just a moment, Rassendyll,” said Fritz, anxiously. “Just what are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that if the king were to conspicuously court his future wife, the people might look upon him with more favor. Perhaps having been crowned, the full import of his position has, shall we say, matured him somewhat? Made him take himself, and others, a bit more seriously, as befits a king?”

“Now just one moment!” Fritz said, genuinely alarmed now. “You’re not seriously proposing to make love to Princess Flavia?”

“Why not?” said Finn.

Sapt pursed his lips and nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “Why not?”

“Sapt!”

“Shut up, Fritz. It’s an excellent idea.”

“Look,” said Finn, “at the risk of seeming crude, I’m not proposing to hop into bed with her-”

“My God!” said Fritz.

“Fritz, if you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll clout you one, so help me!” Sapt said.

“I merely wish to point out,” Finn continued, “that it would do no harm to court her. In fact, if the king were suddenly to turn over a new leaf and be more solicitous of her, as well as of his subjects, the people might experience a change of heart toward him. Anything that would strengthen his position would serve as well to weaken that of Black Michael.”

“By Heaven, I wish I’d had you in my regiment,” said Sapt. “What a second-in-command you would have been! You have a positively brilliant mind for strategy!”

“Strategy?” said Fritz, looking from one to the other of them desperately. “Gentlemen! Please! For the love of Heaven, we’re not discussing some military campaign here! We’re talking about a woman! Not just any woman, but the Princess Flavia! I will not stand idly by to see her affections toyed with!”

“What would you rather I do, Fritz,” Finn said, “treat her like dirt, as Rudolf did? She seemed like a very nice woman to me. Far too nice to be treated like a saddle, as Sapt here put it.”

“No, certainly, I would not wish that-”

“What, then?”

“Well. Well, I… Well, that is, I…”

Sapt grinned. “He has you there, Fritz.”

Von Tarlenheim bit his lower lip.

“Fear not, Fritz,” Finn said. “I give you my solemn word of honor as an Englishman and a gentleman, as well as a former officer in the service of Her Royal Majesty, the Queen Victoria, that my conduct toward the Princess Flavia will be nothing less than honorable with the observation of all the usual proprieties. So there. You have my word of honor. If it will not serve, then sir, I must perforce offer you my glove.”

Von Tarlenheim instantly stiffened to a position of attention, every inch the gentleman and cavalier. “With my utmost respect, Mr. Rassendyll, that will not be necessary. The word of an English officer and gentleman is certainly good enough for Fritz von Tarlenheim and I will not have it said otherwise. If anything that I have said led you to believe that I have in any way impugned your honor, sir, I humbly tender my apologies and hasten to assure you that nothing can be further from the truth.”

“No apologies are necessary, my friend, as no offense was taken,” Finn said. He stood up and offered von Tarlenheim his hand. “I appreciate your concern and regard you well because of it. Let us say no more. We understand each other.”

They shook hands.

“Now,” said Finn, “let’s get down to business, shall we? When I agreed to undertake this masquerade for you, I had no idea that it would ever go this far. Needless to say, neither had you, but that is not the point. The point is that we now find ourselves in a devil of a mess. If we are to get through it alive, much less with any hope of rescuing your king, I am going to require a great deal of help from you.”

“That goes without saying,” said von Tarlenheim. “We owe you everything. Without you, the king would surely have been dead by now.”

“And he may well be, for all we know,” said Sapt, gloomily.

“No, the king still lives,” said Fritz.

Sapt looked at him sharply. “How do you know?”

“Because when Michael arrived in Strelsau this morning, he brought only three of the Six with him,” Fritz said. “Which can only mean that the remaining three have been left behind in Zenda to guard the king. There would be no need of their having been left behind to guard a dead man.”

“Then there is still hope,” said Sapt. “Michael hasn’t lost his head. I was afraid he might. He’s realized his position. The question is, has he found a way to extricate himself from it?”

“There is only one way he can extricate himself from his position that I can think of,” Finn said, “and that would be to kill me.”

Sapt nodded wordlessly.

Von Tarlenheim licked his lips nervously. “I can think of one choice open to us.” He swallowed hard. “We could kill Black Michael.”

“If you could get past his bodyguards,” said Finn. “Besides, killing him would not guarantee the king’s safety. If you did that, the Six would have no one left to give them orders or to pay them, true, but why should they allow you to get off the hook? If we are to assume that they are professionals, gentlemen, we must also assume they would realize that with Michael dead, they would have no protection. The moment that they learned of Michael’s death, they would kill the king and flee or, better yet, if they were smart, they would flee with the king as hostage. Then, the moment they were safely beyond your reach, they would kill the king and disperse, each to his own fate.” Finn shook his head. “No, your best chance to keep the king alive is to keep Michael alive. His removal would throw them into disarray, but not for very long.”