XIII
A DELICATE DUTY
THERE was a stir in Slavna; excitement was gradually growing, not unmixed with uneasiness; gossip was busy at the Hôtel de Paris and at the Golden Lion. Men clustered in groups and talked, while their wives said that they would be better at home, minding their business and letting politics alone. Knowledge was far to seek; rumors were plentiful. Dr. Natcheff might be as reassuring as he pleased—but he had spent the night at the Palace! All was quiet in the city, but news came of the force that was being raised in Volseni, and the size of the force lost nothing as the report passed from mouth to mouth. Little as Slavna loved the Prince, it was not eager to fight him. A certain reaction in his favor set in. If they did not love him, they held him in sincere respect; if he meant to fight, then they were not sure that they did!
Baroness Dobrava's name, too, was much on men's lips; stories about Sophy were bandied to and fro; people began to remember that they had from the beginning thought her very remarkable—a force to be reckoned with. The superstitious ideas about her made their first definite appearance now. She had bewitched the Prince, they said, and the men of the hills, too; the whole mountain country would rise at her bidding and sweep down on Slavna in rude warfare and mad bravery. The Sheepskins would come, following the Red Star!
The citizens of Slavna did not relish the prospect; at the best it would be very bad for trade; at the worst it would mean blood and death let loose in the streets. A stern ruler was better than civil war. The troops of the garrison were no longer such favorites as they had been; even Captain Hercules subdued his demeanor (which, indeed, had never quite recovered from the chastisement of the Prince's sword) to a self-effacing discretion. He, too, in his heart, and in his heavy, primitive brain, had an uneasy feeling about the witch with the Red Star; had she not been the beginning of trouble? But for her, Sterkoffs long knife would have set an end to the whole chapter long ago!
The time was short and the omens doubtful. It was the moment for a bold stroke, for a forcing game. The waverers must be shown where power lay, whose was the winning side.
Captain Markart arrived at Slavna at one o'clock. Zerkovitch had used his start well and reached the city nearly three hours earlier. When Markart told Stenovics (he reported himself at once to the General) how he had been outwitted, Stenovics smiled, saying: "I know, and I know what he has done since he got here. They stole a march on you, but not on me, Captain. And now—your story!" He listened to Markart's tale with a frowning brow, and then dismissed him, saying: "You will meet me at the Palace. We meet the King in conference at four o'clock." But the General himself went to the Palace long before four, and he and Stafnitz were closeted with Countess Ellenburg. Lepage, returning from a walk to the city at two o'clock, saw the General arrive on horseback. Lieutenant Rastatz saw Lepage arrive—ay, and had seen him set out, and marked all his goings; but of this Lepage was unconscious. The little lieutenant was not much of a soldier, but he was an excellent spy. Lepage had been with Zerkovitch.
The King was confined to his apartments, a suite of six rooms on the first floor, facing the river. Here he had his own sitting-room, dressing, and bedrooms. Besides these there were the little cupboard Lepage slept in, and a spare room, which at present accommodated Dr. Natcheff. The sixth room was occupied by odds and ends, including the tackle, rods, and other implements of his Majesty's favorite pastime. The council was held in the sitting-room. Natcheff and Lepage were not present, but each was in his own room, ready for any possible call on his services. Markart was there, first to tell his story and deliver his letter, secondly in his capacity as secretary to General Stenovics. The Countess and Stafnitz completed the party.
The King was anxious, worried, obviously unwell; his voice trembled as he read aloud his son's letter. It was brief but dutiful, and even affectionate. After a slight reproach that he should have been kept in ignorance of the apprehensions entertained about the King's health, the Prince requested an audience within the next two days; he had considerations which it was his duty to lay before his Majesty, and he firmly but respectfully claimed the right of confidential communication with his father; that was essential to his Majesty's obtaining a true appreciation of his views. The hit at Stenovics was plain enough, and the Prince did not labor it. The letter ended there, with an expression of earnest concern for the King's health. There was no word in it about starting on his journey.
Then Markart told his story—not that he had much to tell. In essence he added only that the Prince proposed to await the King's answer at Praslok. Neither to him had the Prince said a word about starting on his journey.
On this point Stenovics seized, pursuant, no doubt, to the plan devised in that preliminary discussion with the other two members of the little coterie.
"It is remarkable, sir—even more than remarkable—that his Royal Highness makes no reference at all to the direct command which your Majesty was pleased to issue to him," he observed.
The King listened, puzzled and rather distressed. "Yes, it isn't proper, it isn't respectful. But now that my son knows of the state of my health, I think I must see him. It seems unnatural to refuse. After all, it may be the last time—since he's going on this journey."
"But is the Prince going on his journey, sir?" asked Stenovics. "Does the studied silence of his letter augur well for his obedience? Doesn't he seek an interview in order to persuade your Majesty against your better judgment? I must be pardoned freedom of speech. Great interests are at stake." The last words were true enough, though not in the sense in which the King was meant to understand them.
"My son knows how near this matter is to my heart. I shall be able to persuade him to do his duty," said the King.
The first round of the fight was going against the coterie. They did not want the King to see his son. Danger lay there. The Prince's was the stronger character; it might well prevail; and they were no longer certain that the Prince knew or guessed nothing of their hopes and intentions; how much news had Zerkovitch carried to Praslok the night before? Stenovics addressed the King again.
"Captain Markart gathered that the Prince was reluctant to interrupt the military training on which he is engaged at Volseni, sir."
"A very excellent thing, that; but the other matter is more urgent. I shouldn't change my mind on account of that."
"A personal interview might be trying to your Majesty." The King looked annoyed, possibly a little suspicious. "You've no other objection than that to urge, General Stenovics?"
Stenovics had none other which he could produce. "No, sir," he said.
"While I'm here I must do my duty—and I shall induce my son to do his. I'll receive the Prince of Slavna in private audience to-morrow or next day. I'll fix the precise time later, and I'll write the letter myself."
The decision was final—and it was defeat so far. There was a moment's silence. Markart saw Colonel Stafnitz nod his head, almost imperceptibly, towards Countess Ellenburg. The need and the moment for reinforcements had come; the Colonel was calling them up. The order of battle had been well con- sidered in Countess Ellenburg's apartments! The second line came into action. The Countess began with a question, put with a sneer:
"Did no other reason for the Prince's unwillingness to set out on his journey suggest itself to Captain Markart from what he saw at Praslok?"
The King turned sharply round to her, then to Markart. "Well?" he asked the latter.
Markart was sadly embarrassed.
"Who was at Praslok?" asked the Countess.
"Madame Zerkovitch, and her husband for one night, and Baroness Dobrava."
"Yes, Baroness Dobrava!"
"She's still there?" asked the King. He looked perplexed, even vexed, but again he smiled. He looked at Stenovics and Stafnitz, but this time he found no responsive smiles. Their faces were deadly serious. "Oh, come, well—well, that's not serious. Natural, perhaps, but—the Prince has a sense of duty. He'll see that that won't do. And we'll send the Baroness a hint—we'll tell her how much we miss her at Slavna." He tried to make them answer his smile and accept his smoothing away of the difficulty. It was all a failure.
"I'm bound to say, sir, that I consider Baroness Dobrava a serious obstacle to his Royal Highness's obeying your wishes—a serious obstacle," said Stenovics.
"Then we must get her away, General."
"Will he let her go?" snapped the Countess.
"I must order it, if it comes to that," said the King. "These little—er—affairs—these—what?—holiday flirtations—"
The Countess lost—or appeared to lose—control of herself suddenly. "Little affairs! Holiday flirtations! If it were only that, it would be beneath your notice, sir, and beneath mine. It's more than that!"
The King started and leaned forward, looking at her. She rose to her feet, crying: "More than that! While we sit talking here, he may be marrying that woman!"
"Marrying her?" cried the King; his face turned red, and then, as the blood ebbed again, became very pale.
"That's what she means—yes, and what he means, too!"
The King was aghast. The second assault struck home—struck at his dearest hopes and wounded his most intimate ambitions. But he was still incredulous. He spread out trembling hands, turning from the vehement woman to his two counsellors.
"Gentlemen!" he said, imploringly, with outstretched hands.
They were silent—grave and silent.
"Captain Markart, you you saw anything to suggest—this this terrible idea?"
The fire was hot on poor Markart again. He stammered and stuttered.
"The—the Baroness seemed to have much influence, sir; to—to hold a very high position in the Prince's regard; to—to be in his confidence—"
"Yes!" struck in the Countess. "She wears the uniform of his artillery! Isn't that a compliment usually reserved for ladies of royal rank? I appeal to you, Colonel Stafnitz!"
"In most services it is so, I believe, Countess," the Colonel answered gravely.
"But I should never allow it and without my consent"
"It might be invalid, sir, though there's some doubt about that. But it would be a fatal bar to our German project. Even an influence short of actual marriage—"
"She means marriage, I say, marriage!" The Countess was quite rudely impatient of her ally—Which was very artistic. "An ambitious and dangegerous woman! She has taken .advantage of the favor the King showed her."
"And if I died?" asked the King.
Stenovics shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, there would be no control then," said he.
The King looked round. "We must get her away from Praslok."
"Will she come?" jeered the Countess. "Not she! Will he let her go? Not he!"
The King passed his hand weakly across his brow. Then he rang a bell on the table. Lepage entered, and the King bade him bring him the draught which Natcheff had prescribed for his nerves. Well might the unfortunate man feel the need of it, between the Countess's open eruption and the not less formidable calm of Stenovics and Stafnitz! And all his favorite dreams in danger!
"She won't leave him—or he'll follow her. The woman has infatuated him!" the Countess persisted.
"Pray, madame, let me think," said the harassed and sick King. "We must open communications with Baroness Dobrava."
"May I suggest that the matter might prove urgent, sir?" said Stenovics.
"Every hour is full of danger," declared the Countess.
The King held up his hand for silence. Then he took paper and pen, and wrote with his own hand some lines. He signed the document and folded it. His face was now firm and calmer. The peril to his greatest hopes—perhaps a sense of the precarious tenure of his power—seemed to impart to him a new promptness, a decision alien to his normal character. "Colonel Stafnitz!" he said in a tone of command.
The Colonel rose to his feet and saluted. From an adviser in council he became in a moment a soldier on duty.
"I am about to entrust to you a duty of great delicacy. I choose you because, short of General Stenovics himself, there is no man in whom I have such confidence. To-morrow morning you will go to Praslok and inform his Royal Highness that you have a communication from me for Baroness Dobrava. If the Prince is absent, you will see the Baroness herself. If she is absent, you will follow her and find her. The matter is urgent. You will tell her that it is my request that she at once accompany you back here to the Palace, where I shall receive her and acquaint her with my further wishes. If she asks of these, say that you are not empowered to tell her anything; she must learn them from myself. If she makes any demur about accompanying you immediately, or if demur is made or delay suggested from any quarter, you will say that my request is a command. If that is not sufficient, you will produce this paper. It is an order under my hand, addressed to you and directing you to arrest Baroness Dobrava and escort her here to my presence, notwithstanding any objection or resistance, which any person whatever will offer at his peril. You will be back here by to-morrow evening, with the Baroness in your charge. Do it without employing the order for arrest if possible, but do it anyhow and at all costs. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly, sir. Am I to take an escort?"
The answer to that question was anxiously considered—and awaited anxiously.
"Yes," said the King, "you will. The precise force I leave to your discretion. It should be large enough to make you secure from hinderance by any act short of open and armed resistance to my commands."
Stafnitz saluted again, and at a sign from the King resumed his seat. The King's manner relaxed as he turned to Stenovics. "When we've got her here, we'll reason with her—she'll hear reason—and persuade her that her health will benefit by a foreign trip. If necessary, I shall cause her to be deported. She must be out of Kravonia in three days unless she can clear herself from all suspicion. I'll arrange that the Prince sha'n't come for his audience until she is well out of Slavna. It is, of course, absolutely essential that no word of this should pass the walls of this room. If once a hint of it reached Praslok, the task of laying our hands on the Baroness might become infinitely more difficult."
The three were well pleased. They had come to fear Sophy, and on that score alone would be right glad to see the last of her. And when she had gone, there was a fairer chance that the Prince, too, would go on his travels; whether he went after her or not they cared little, so that he went, and the recruiting and training at Volseni were interrupted.
Again, she was to go before the audience. That was another point. The peril of the audience remained, but they had improved their chances. Perhaps Stafnitz's brain was already busy with the possibilities of his mission and his escort. The latter was to be large enough to make him secure from hinderance by any act short of open and armed resistance to the King's commands. If it were impossible (as his Majesty obviously considered) to contemplate such resistance, it was evidently no less impossible to reckon what might happen as a consequence of it.
The King rang his bell impatiently. "I want my draught again. I'm very tired. Is there anything else which need detain us to-day?"
As he spoke, before Stenovics could answer, Lepage came in with the draught. The valet wore an even unusually demure and uninterested expression.
"There is one other matter, sir," said Stenovics.
The King paused in the act of drinking and listened with his glass in his hand, Lepage standing beside him.
"Your Majesty just now impressed on us the need of secrecy as to what passes between these walls. I think, sir, you would insist on the same thing with all who serve you confidentially. You haven't asked, sir, how the Prince became aware of the state of your Majesty's health."
The King started a little. "No, I forgot that. It was against my direct orders. How was it?"
Stenovics kept his eyes on the King; Markart and Stafnitz allowed themselves to study Lepage's features; he stood the scrutiny well.
"The news, sir, was betrayed by a man within these walls—a man in close touch with your Majesty."
"Natcheff!" exclaimed the King.
"Certainly not, sir. Another. This man, of whom I had suspicions, and whom I caused to be watched, went by night to the house of Monsieur Zerkovitch, who is, as you are aware, a close friend and (if I may use the word) an adherent of the Prince of Slavna. Their interview took place between nine and ten last night. At eleven Zerkovitch, having borrowed a horse from the Prince's stables, set out for Praslok. He rode hard through the night and reached the Castle, as Captain Markart has told us, in the small hours of the morning. There he had an interview with the Prince. He left Praslok between six and seven in the morning and arrived at his house on the south boulevard by eleven. At half -past eleven he walked up the Street of the Fountain, crossed St. Michael's Square, and entered a small inn in a little alley behind the Cathedral. Here the man I speak of was waiting for him. They were together half an hour. Zerkovitch then left. The man remained till one, then came out, and returned to the Palace by a circuitous route, arriving here about two o'clock. I venture to say that the meaning of all this is quite clear. This man is in communication with Praslok, using Zerkovitch as his intermediary. It's for your Majesty to say how far his disobedience in regard to acquainting the Prince with your condition is a serious offence. As to that I say nothing. But it will be obvious that this man should know nothing of any private measures undertaken or contemplated."
The King had listened carefully. "The case seems clear," he said. "This fellow's a traitor. He's done harm already, and may do more. What do you ask, General?"
"We might be content to let him know nothing. But who can be quite certain of insuring that? Sir, you have just arrived at a very important decision— to take certain action. Absolute secrecy is essential to its success. I've no wish to press hardly on this man, but I feel bound to urge that he should be put under arrest and kept in the charge of a person who is beyond suspicion until the action to which I refer has been successfully carried out."
"The precaution is an obvious one, and the punishment hardly sufficient." The King rose. "Do as you say, General. I leave you full discretion. And now I'll go to my room and rest. I'm very tired. Give me your arm, Lepage, and come and make me comfortable."
Lepage did not offer his arm. He was not looking at the King, nor listening to him; his eyes and his ears were for General Stenovics. Stenovics rose now and pointed his finger at Lepage.
"That, sir, is the man," said he.
"Lepage!" cried the King, and sank heavily into his seat with a bewildered face. Lepage—his familiar —the man he trusted!