Blood Royal (2 page)

The other said nothing, but I heard him suck in his breath.

“I’m Duke Paul,” said the Duke suddenly. “Duke Paul of Riechtenburg; and this man’s Major Grieg of the Black Hussars. He asks your game, but I’d damned well like to know his.”

“We’ll ask him in a minute,” said Hanbury, and, with that, he said we were English and gave our names.

“I like London,” said the Duke irrelevantly. “Do you remember —?” He named a revue. “I saw it thirty-three times. There was a girl in the chorus called Ruby Judge… Stung me to glory, of course, but she – she had her points. Little devil in a temper, she was. I gave her some sables one day, and because she’d wanted broadtail she shoved the lot in the fire.”

There was an electric silence.

Then Grieg laughed, as though in triumph, and the blood came into my face. Though his conduct, I think, was warranting what we had done, I had an uneasy feeling that we had ‘backed the wrong horse’.

Not until candles had been lighted in a great bedchamber and the four of us were gathered about a fire of logs were George and I fairly able to appraise our two guests, for they were in uniform, and the deep collars of their greatcoats had shrouded the face.

No man, I think, would have liked the look of them.

Duke Paul was a loose-lipped youth of about my age – that is to say twenty-five. His sleek hair was sandy, and his complexion most pale. Weak, idle, dissolute – as such he impressed me. There was nothing noble about him, but much that was mean, and while his manner was haughty, this arrogance was plainly at the mercy of anyone that was minded to meet his gaze. His nails were bitten to the quick.

Grieg was a man of forty, tough and thickset. His hair and his eyes were black, a perpetual frown fretted his heavy brows, and his jaw was curiously square. He was smart and well groomed and looked a soldier, accustomed to command and to obey. Neither wise nor stolid, his expression was especially grim, and I remember feeling glad that I was not his subordinate.

Both were dressed in dark blue and wore neither belts nor spurs, but, while the major’s were plain, the Duke’s collar and cuffs were laced with gold.

Very few words had been exchanged, and I was still wondering how best to discharge the duty which we had so impetuously shouldered, when, to my great surprise, Grieg set a chair for the Duke and then turned to Hanbury and me.

“I’ve been thinking things over,” he said; “and if I’d been in your position I should have done the same. I – I must apologize.”

Before either of us could answer—

“And what about me?” said the Duke, with his back to the fire.

The other lowered his head.

“I am at your Highness’ disposal. Your Highness will deal with me on our return.”

“By God, I will,” said the Duke.

“One thing I beg, and that is that your Highness will not judge me until my case has been heard.”

“Case?” cried the Duke. “Case? D’you think I don’t know—”

“I beg you, sir, not to be hasty. I am, of course, under arrest, but your Highness is unattended, and if you will allow me to attend you, I will not abuse the privilege.”

Here a knock fell upon the door, and Grieg was there in an instant to see what it meant.

I think a child would have seen that submission so sudden and abject was far too good to be true, but, though the Duke looked puzzled and followed his ‘prisoner’ with a malevolent gaze, the entrance of Bell with some liquor distracted his thoughts. The liquor including mulled wine, he let out a whoop of delight and, though I fully expected that once this diversion was over he would return to the charge, he did not do so and, beyond ignoring Grieg’s presence, seemed to have shelved his displeasure and the matter from which this sprang.

To me it was plain that his silence was exactly what Grieg had desired, but, though the latter had managed to shut the Duke’s mouth and was already discussing something ponderously the fury of the storm, I could not help feeling that he had other fences to fly before we parted, and that if he surmounted them all, he would be surprisingly adroit. Indeed, the end came rather sooner than I had expected, for the Duke drank more mulled wine than he could conveniently carry and was quarrelsome in his cups.

Grieg had ventured to suggest that he should retire for the night.

The Duke glared at him.

“Retire?” He spouted an oath. “Where are my clothes?”

“If your Highness could dispense for once—”

“What about a bath in the morning? Where are my sponges? Who’s to shave me? What have I got to put on?”

“No one regrets more than I—”

“‘Regret’, you blackguard? The only thing you regret is that you’ve lost your match. But for these fellows here – Where were you taking me, Grieg? Answer me that. I’d have had my things there – I don’t think. And you have the nerve—”

“I implore your Highness to wait. I beg—”

“You can — well beg,” raved the Duke. “You came to me this evening and said the Prince wanted me at once. You—”

“I implore your—”

“
Silence!
” roared the Duke.

Then he turned to Hanbury and me.

“Prince Nicholas of Riechtenburg is my great-uncle, and, as my father’s renounced, I’m the heir to the throne. My father’s cousin don’t like this – the Duke Johann. He’s had one or two shots at putting me out of the way, and now that the old man’s failing I suppose he’s quickening up. But he,” – he pointed to Grieg – “he’s on my great-uncle’s staff. I know Johann’s little crowd, and I don’t drink with them, but I never dreamed that he’d got at the Prince’s ADC’s.”

Grieg had been standing still, with his hands behind him and his eyes on the speaker’s face. Now he shrugged his shoulders and turned to a chair.

As he sat leisurely down—

“Nothing so slippery,” he said coolly, “as the steps of a throne.”

I have never seen a mask so bluntly discarded, and I was not surprised when the Duke started forward with an oath and a burst of abuse.

The other stifled a yawn.

“Like father, like son,” he said shortly. “But he had the sense to renounce.”

As the Duke began to stammer with passion, I stepped to the bell. With my hand on the old bell-rope I looked at Grieg.

“I’m not concerned with your politics,” said I, “but you happen to have made me your host.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” said Grieg.

“It’s my way of putting it,” said I. “And as I don’t like your behaviour, I suggest that you go to bed.”

The man looked me up and down.

“And if I refuse,” he said, rising.

“I shall order my servants to put you out of this room.”

As I pulled the rope, the Duke swayed forward drunkenly, tumbler in hand.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “I haven’t d-done with him yet. ‘Done’? I haven’t begun. I—” He rocked on his feet. “And who are you to give orders? Just because—”

Bell entered the chamber.

“Show this gentleman to his room,” said I.

“Very good, sir,” said Bell.

He picked up Grieg’s hat and coat and stood with his hand on the door.

“D-damn it,” cried the Duke. “I told you I hadn’t d-done with the swine. Hadn’t begun. He’s a traitor – an insolent traitor. And I’m going to put him in his place. Tell ’m to shut t’door.”

Grieg threw back his head and laughed.

“I congratulate you,” he said, “upon your –
salvage
.”

Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

What happened in the next half hour may as well be imagined as set down. One drunken man is as good or as bad as another, and by the time the Duke was asleep both George and I were bitterly cursing the folly which had led us to take up his cause. Having gone so far, however, we felt that we could not leave him to the mercies of Grieg, and that at a village of which he knew less than its name. We, therefore, decided that next morning we must in decency carry him where he wished and that, after that, we would wash our hands of a business which could breed nothing but trouble and was thankless indeed.

We then spun a coin to determine which of us two should pass the night in the chamber in which the Duke slept, and when – I confess, to my relief – the lot had fallen upon George, I bade him ‘Good night’ and was glad to get out of the room.

Rowley met me at the foot of the staircase to say that Bell was watching the major’s door, but I thought this precaution needless and bade them take their rest by the side of the car. This was happily simple, for, since there was no coach-house but a gigantic hall, I had driven the car clean into the inn itself, to the great content of the landlord and all his staff, who were never tired of regarding so unfamiliar a guest.

I also told the servants that if Grieg sought to leave the house they were to let him go, for I had no wish at all to hold him prisoner or, indeed, to set eyes on him again. With that, I gave Bell the pistol which George had taken from Grieg, in case the latter should endeavour to damage the car. Such an attempt seemed to me likely enough, for, since his abduction of the Duke had so miscarried, it would plainly be to his interest to apprise those he served of his failure
before the Duke reappeared
: and, as he could scarcely expect assistance from us, to delay the Duke’s return was the best he could do.

Bell took the pistol, and then with an air of apology offered me one in its stead.

“I should go armed, sir,” he said, “until we’re out of the wood.”

I slid the thing into my pocket and went to my bed.

Nothing disturbed me that night, and I was afoot at seven of a beautiful day.

We had brought a suitcase from Salzburg, and the landlord remembered our ways, so Bell had made everything ready for me to bathe and change. As soon as my toilet was done I went straight to Hanbury’s room, to find him smoking at the window and the Duke still sleeping like the dead. While George was dressing I took his place in the room, and then between us we persuaded the Duke to rise.

The latter refused point-blank to leave his bed, upbraiding us fiercely for rousing him and declaring that the pain in his head was not to be borne. On our persisting, he started to curse and swear and threw a glass at Hanbury when at last he ripped off the clothes. Once he was up, however, he took himself in hand and behaved more civilly, though he gave us no thanks.

Breakfast he would not, but demanded some China tea. When I told him that no sort of tea was to be had of such an inn, he abused the house with great freedom and asked me what the devil I meant by bringing a man of his standing to such a place. At that, I called Bell and told him to bring some spring water, commending this to the Duke as likely to serve his distemper rather better than anything else, and, though he looked very black and muttered a rudeness which I think he had not the courage to say aloud, I am glad to remember that he presently took my advice.

Then he looked out of the window and saw the Rolls.

“That’s more like it,” he said. “When do we start?”

“As soon as you’re ready,” said I, “we’ll drive you wherever you please.”

“I must get back to Vigil,” said he. “We must be miles over the border, but once we’re in Riechtenburg, it’ll take us no more than an hour.”

“That’s right,” said Hanbury, tracing the way on the map. “West and by North from here, and a three hours’ run. Vigil’s the chief town, of course.”

“Complete with palace,” said the Duke. “The Prince is there now. By rights he should be in the country, but he’s been too ill to be moved. I’ll go there straight,” he continued, “and put him wise. This scoundrel Grieg must be – By the way, where is Grieg?”

“He hasn’t appeared,” said I.

“So much the better,” said the Duke. “Are you ready to go?”

“The point is this,” said Hanbury. “We’re sick of the sight of the fellow, but we’re not prepared to hang him round the innkeeper’s neck.”

“Why not?” said the Duke.

“It’s not fair to the innkeeper,” said George. “He’s a very decent fellow, and Grieg’ll raise all hell when he finds we’re gone.”

“Damn it,” cried the other, “what does that matter to me? If—”

Here Bell entered the room, salver in hand.

“The major has gone, sir,” he reported. “By way of the window, I think. His bed was untouched, and I found this note on the floor.”

A twisted sheet of paper was superscribed
Duke Paul
.

The message within was printed rudely enough.

There is now no harm in your knowing that your great-uncle Prince Nicholas VII died yesterday evening at a quarter to six. At nine o’clock this morning Prince Johann will be proclaimed.

The Duke turned very pale, and a hand went up to his mouth.

George and I glanced at each other.

As we did so, the clock of the village church beat out the hour. Nine o’clock.

Half an hour had gone by, and we were again upon the road.

We were not bound for Vigil or even for Riechtenburg, but for a castle in Carinthia which lay to the east of St Martin, some seventy miles away. This was the seat of the Riechtenburg second line, now alone represented, it seemed, by the Grand Duchess Leonie, to whom the Duke was betrothed.

So much our guest had vouchsafed us, after a deplorable scene, in which he breathed enough threatenings to fill up a book, swore that the army was faithful and would follow him to the death and instanced a score of times the love, esteem and veneration in which he was held by the people that he vas to rule. In view of all these protests, we counselled his immediate departure, promising to have him at Vigil before it was noon; but he steadfastly ignored our entreaties to enter the car until he conceived the idea of himself acquainting his fiancée with what was afoot. Then he would wait for nothing, raving like any madman because we must look at the map, but I fear that, had her castle stood in Riechtenburg instead of in the opposite direction to that principality, he would not have been so instant that we should proceed.

In a word, the man was ‘rattled.’ It is not for me to blame him, for what I should have done in his case I do not know; but I cannot pretend that he cut a princely figure, and I could not help wondering whether his cousin Johann, usurper or no, would not rule his people at least as well.

To be perfectly frank, both George and I were glad to be quit of the duty of visiting Riechtenburg. Had Duke Paul been other than he was, if his presence had inspired any feelings but those of scorn and dislike, we should both have been happy to help him to try to save the game; but the prospect of escorting to Vigil so objectionable a youth, there perhaps to meet with a reception which, however unpleasant, we could not honestly condemn was, I think, not unnaturally, one which we were thankful to forego. Indeed, we looked forward cheerfully to our approaching release, and that with a clear conscience, for if we had had our way, we should have been driving for Vigil as hard as we could.

Now, well as we knew Carinthia, we had never passed by Anger, the Grand Duchess Leonie’s home, and I cannot forget the impression of vanished splendour which my first sight of it evoked.

To reach it, we left the valleys and climbed by the side of a torrent into the hills. Our road, though shown upon the map, was for the last three miles as good as private, for so far as I saw, it served no other dwelling, but led directly to the castle and there came to an end. This was by no means unusual, for the great houses of those parts are nearly always retired, and, since the estates about them are seldom if ever fenced, one who is touring at random can never tell what some lane or by-road may bring forth.

Our way was girt thick with timber, and, since the trees were in leaf, I at the wheel could see nothing except that we had entered a gorge and were climbing between two shoulders that towered on either side. At length, as we rounded a beechwood, the sides of the gorge fell away, or rather the gorge itself bellied into an ample circus, once, no doubt, all forest, but now greensward. This was the head of the gorge, for the mountains stood round in a ring, and on the far side of the circus a great cascade fell down in a single leap. At its base the waters parted and ran to right and to left, meeting again in the midst of the great greensward to form the angry torrent by the side of which we had come. And on the island, so made, rose the castle itself – a grey, lichened pile, with the water fretting its sides and the trees stretching out great boughs to overhang its battlements and chafe its towers. The ramparts had been made into a terrace, perhaps a century ago, and seven great windows argued a lofty gallery upon the south. These were shuttered within, and nearly every one was short of a pane. Between each window stood a statue, plainly of bronze, bearing aloft a lantern which must have been three feet high. There had no doubt been a drawbridge, but this was gone: in its room four leopards held up a bridge of stone. In niches above the gateway stood two bronze men-at-arms, between whom hung a great bell. Above this their hands were raised as though to strike, and I afterwards found that their arms were controlled by pulleys and that years ago they had served the castle clock. Now a clapper had been put to the bell, and the rope which dangled from this was hitched to one side of the archway, for those who came to pull. Porter there was none, and, but for some cows in the meadow and a little child to tend them, there was no sign of life.

When I came to the bridge, I slowed down.

“Go on. Drive in,” said the Duke. “And sound the horn.”

More to please myself than my guest, I did his bidding, for I had a mind to see the courtyard within; but I sounded the bulb horn gently, for the other would have cried ‘Havoc!’ in such a place.

As I passed under the archway, the Duke exclaimed with impatience and, leaning across me, sounded the electric horn.

In that gesture you have the man.

Arrogant, mannerless, strong to commit an offence which those it offended would lay to another’s charge – for it was I that was driving and I that had the horn-button under my hand…

The noise, of course, was monstrous. The old walls bandied it frantically, and the cliffs beyond gave it back: a muster of terrified pigeons took clumsy flight: two dogs were barking like mad things, and I sat still fuming and waiting for the echoes to die.

As the Duke descended, a woman’s clear voice rang out.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

The words came from behind me. I did not turn, but looked into the driving mirror to see a girl sitting square on a great bay horse.

She had followed us under the archway and was now framed by its mouth. I could see that her hair was dark and her colour high. She sat astride and was wearing riding-trousers that fitted her very well: her rough straw hat was bound with a bright red kerchief, and her white silk shirt lay open about her throat.

As the Duke approached, she drew off her right-hand glove and, when he uncovered, she leaned down ever so slightly and put her bare hand into his. I saw him kiss her fingers and look up into her face.

“Leonie,” he said, “they’ve done it on me. The old man died last evening, and Johann was proclaimed this morning at nine o’clock.”

The Grand Duchess never moved.

“Why are you here?” she said.

“Grieg came for me yesterday evening. The Prince wanted me, he said. He had a blind car, and before I knew where I was we were out of the city and flicking hell for leather along the Austrian road. I’d have broken his neck, but he shoved a gun in my ribs. About half past ten we got out on some country road. I’ve never seen such rain. Then another car comes up and Grieg tells me to get inside. You couldn’t argue the point in rain like that. I tell you it was too awful. Besides, he had a gun…

“Well, it was the wrong car. Belonged to these English fellows – they’d been catching fish. I put them wise, and between us we flattened Grieg out. Spent the night at some village in a fly-blown inn. Grieg cleared out in the night and left this note.” I saw a paper pass. “I was just leaving for Vigil when somebody brought it in.”

The Grand Duchess read the note and handed it back. Then she spoke in English as clear and clean as could be.

“Why are you here?”

The Duke took out cigarettes.

“To put you wise, of course, Leonie.”

“You could have telephoned: and – well, unless you mean to sit down under—”

“Of course I don’t,” cried the Duke.

“Then why aren’t you at Vigil?”

“I’m going,” said the Duke. “I’m going.” He lighted a cigarette and stared at its fiery end. “So you advise—”

The Grand Duchess laughed.

“Nothing, Paul. I’m not – interested.”

The Duke looked up sharply.

“I should have thought,” he began.

“I know. Most people would.”

“Don’t you want to be Princess?”

“I never did,” said the girl: “but I used to have a weakness for seeing people come by their rights. But you’ve got me out of that.”

I cannot describe the scorn with which her words were spoken. It was a quiet, cold disdain, more evident to us, I fancy, than to the Duke himself. This and her use of English made me feel sure that she was determined that we strangers should know the truth, lest we should hold her shameless in being betrothed to such a man.

“Hang it, Leonie,” said the Duke. “I didn’t come for a pi-jaw.”

“I know. You came for advice. Or was it to put me wise? Never mind. I’ve no advice to give you, but I can give you some news.”

“News?”

“News. That note’s a lie. It was very nearly true. Grieg, of course, hoped it was true, and he guessed that, true or false, it would keep you out of Vigil for several hours.
The Prince had a stroke last night at half past five. Everyone thought it was the end, but at half past six he rallied and at eight o’clock this morning he was doing extremely well
.”

“You’re joking,” cried the Duke hoarsely.

“Of course I’m not,” said the girl. “Marya Dresden telephoned to me last night. And she rang up again this morning to tell me I needn’t come.”

The Duke whooped, flung his hat into the air and began to dance grotesquely and to play a phantom banjo…

That the man would now expect us to drive him to Vigil forthwith I had no doubt, and, all things considered, I did not see how we could well refuse to convey him at least as far as the frontier of Riechtenburg. I, therefore, started the engine and set about turning the car.

There was not too much room, for an idle fountain stood in the middle of the court, and, the outlet of this being in course of repair, the court itself had been opened, to let a man come at the drain.

By the time, therefore, that I had gone about, the Grand Duchess was off her horse, which a groom was leading away, and the Duke was urging some point with a sheepish look on his face.

As I brought the car to rest, the Grand Duchess cut him short.

“I’ve told you,” she said, using German, “I do not care. I wish you no ill, of course. But I wouldn’t lift a finger to save your throne.”

With that, she turned her head and her eyes met mine.

I was gazing at her as at something which is not of this world; for, now that I saw her clearly, her beauty was so excelling that, for all the good they did me, I might have had no manners and indeed no one of the senses, save only that of sight.

She had pulled off her hat, and her soft, short hair was so black that the lights in its waves were blue. Her nose was aquiline, and her steady, grave eyes were grey. Her mouth was especially lovely, but very proud: her colour was high and healthy and her skin very white and, indeed, her whole countenance was fine and fresh and vivid as a flower may be in a garden before the sun is high. She was slim and tall for a woman and stood very well. There was nothing about her which was not feminine, yet it was very plain that her little finger was thicker than the Duke’s loins. Her look was keen and fearless, her temples were wise, and I have never seen such dignity so artlessly displayed.

As I gazed, I saw her displeasure and hastily bowed my head to examine the instrument-board, but my cheeks and my ears were burning, and so, when I think of that moment, they do to this day.

The Grand Duchess was speaking in English.

“You may as well introduce them if I am to give them lunch.”

The words stung like a whip, and almost before I knew it I was standing by the side of the car with my hat in my hand.

I addressed myself to the Duke.

“We never lunch,” I said quietly, “but, if you’d like us to give you a lift to Vigil, we’ll throw a fly over that water and be back here in two hours.”

The Duke stared at me.

“D’you mean you never—”

“Never,” said I shortly, and glanced at my watch. “Shall we say half past one?”

“That’ll suit me all right,” said the Duke. “But don’t you want a drink, or—”

But I was back in my seat.

“At half past one,” I said, smiling, and let in the clutch.

Now George, who had never descended, was up on his feet, and the servants had only just time to get aboard: when, therefore, the car shot forward, each clawed hold of the other and all fell down in a heap upon the back seat, presenting a spectacle which must have been more diverting than the antics of any clowns. But the first I knew of it was the long, fresh peal of a girl’s laughter ringing under the archway as the Rolls passed over the bridge.

We did not fish, but, since on leaving Salzburg we had taken food for two days, we lunched in a blowing meadow ten miles away.

I cannot pretend that we made a festive meal.

We had put ourselves out and about for a notorious wastrel, who accepted our services as though the privilege of doing them greatly outweighed their worth: I had forgotten my manners in a most unfortunate way, and in return we had been deliberately insulted by a girl who was plainly no more than twenty years old, who, by her relation to the Duke, might very well be considered to be in our debt: my zeal to be gone had made us a laughing-stock – a point upon which the Grand Duchess had taken care to insist; and, worst of all, I had in my haste engaged us to suffer for another five hours a well-nigh insufferable guest.

However, there was nothing to be done, and I gratefully remember that George very handsomely declined to blame me at all, declaring that if there had been anything to retrieve, I had much more than retrieved it by my very pointed refusal to meet the Grand Duchess at all, “while as for staring,” he added, “I don’t know what the hussy expects. If she likes to look like a Madonna, talk like Queen Elizabeth and get her clothes made in Savile Row, anyone may be pardoned for staring. And now let’s go back and swallow the rest of our gruel. I’m going to drive and you’re going to sit with me, and if the Duke don’t like the back seat he can damned well sit on the floor.”

At the hour appointed we were back in the old courtyard.

A manservant saw our coming and disappeared, but, as though to prove our patience, nobody came to the door; and after waiting ten minutes I bade Rowley ring the bell.