The Great Game (17 page)

             
"Not so much an opinion as a feeling, based on a little information," Cecily said. "And I'd rather not go into it until I know a little bit more than I do now."

             
Barnett looked speculatively at his wife for a second, and then said, "Fair enough. I think I'll go along with your feelings from now on."

             
There was a knock on the door, and Frau Schimmer and a serving-girl entered with a pair of trays. "Breakfast for the invalid," Frau Schimmer announced cheerfully.

             
And, with the word "breakfast," there came to Barnett the realization of a substantial hunger. "You must bear with me now, Doctor," he said, pushing himself to a sitting position.
"Because I intend to eat breakfast.
And if I don't sit up, I shall get it all over myself, and possibly choke."

             
The girl put her tray down at the foot of the bed while Cecily and Frau Schimmer propped Barnett up with pillows. "Eat, eat," Frau Schimmer said. "Good food is the best medicine. A delicate omelette, slightly undercooked as befits the situation;
br
ö
tchen,
marmalade, hot cocoa.
And a tray for you, also, Signora Barnett.
To eat along with your so-brave husband."

             
"You haven't eaten yet?" Barnett asked.

             
"She has not yet left your side, the signora," Frau Schimmer said. "I do not believe she has slept."

             
"I napped a little," Cecily said. "It's not important. Let's eat breakfast."

             
Dr. Silbermann examined Barnett's breakfast tray and pronounced it suitable fare for an injured man. "But do not stuff yourself," he warned. "Eat lightly for a day or so, my boy."

             
Frau Schimmer looked disapprovingly at the doctor for giving advice that went so strongly against everything in which she believed. They left the room together, and her voice could be heard in the hall explaining to Dr. Silbermann the health benefits of copious amounts of good food.

             
Benjamin and Cecily ate in silence. There was, for now, nothing to say that needed words. After a few minutes Barnett's hunger deserted him completely and he pushed the tray further down the bed and sipped his hot chocolate, staring discontentedly at the half-eaten omelette on his plate. He felt that he was letting Frau Schimmer down, but he could eat no more.

             
There was a knock at the door, and the Bulefortes came in. "Ah! You are awake!" Ariste Buleforte came over to the foot of the bed. "We would have been in to see you earlier, but we were told you were still sleeping. But finally Diane said we must look in on you anyway, and so we are here. How are you feeling?"

             
"Tolerably well," Barnett said.
"Suffering no pain at the moment except for a slight headache."

             
"Thank the good Lord," Diane Buleforte said. "We were so worried about you. It would have been unforgivable if you had suffered serious hurt."

             
"Two policemen have arrived by
vapore
from Como," Ariste said. "They are engaged in looking at the, um, deceased, now. But they will want to question us shortly. I apologize for the inconvenience."

             
"Don't take it so personally," Barnett said. "It's not your fault."

             
"Ah, but I'm afraid it is. It was, after all, either me or my wife, or more probably both of
us, that
this insane person was trying to assassinate. That he used a bomb capable of removing us all was merely a sign of his exuberance."

             
"Now hold it," Barnett said. "Don't be so all-fired eager to take the credit. We don't know who the man was after. It might have been Cecily and
myself
, after all. Strange people have been fol-lowing us around since we left for this trip, and going through our belongings."

             
"Is that so?" Buleforte asked. "Why?"

             
"We don't know. At first I didn't notice them myself, but Cecily did. As you have seen, she is very observant. It wasn't until after our baggage was mysteriously searched on the train to Como that I would believe her."

             
Buleforte shook his head. "You are trying to make me feel good," he said.
"Less culpable.
It is I who am responsible—not through anything I have done, but merely through my position. It was not fair of me to subject you to such danger. Although, I will say in justification, I believed we were safe, here; that our presence was unknown."

             
Barnett leaned back into the coolness of the pillows behind his head and found that they cushioned the throbbing of his headache. "Come now, sir," he said. "I admit you have me intrigued. What is it about your very presence that brings danger?"

             
Cecily took the two breakfast trays from the bed and placed them on a side table. "I'm afraid it is the climate of the times," she said, sitting back down beside Benjamin. "Royalty is considered fair game by the disruptive elements of our society. It matters not what royalty, whether good or bad, kind or cruel, progressive or repressive."

             
"Royalty?"
Benjamin asked, looking in astonishment from his wife to Ariste Buleforte; who was looking with almost as great astonishment at Cecily.

             
"You know?" Buleforte asked.

             
"I suspected," Cecily replied. "I did not know until late last night, after the incident."

             
"I apologize for the deception," Buleforte said.

             
"I, also," said his wife. "It was distasteful to me. But if we had traveled as who we are, we would have moved about as a small army. How did you find out, Cecily dear?"

             
"Signore Buleforte's accent told me what part of the world you were from, and Frau Schimmer loaned me an
Almanach de Gotha
to peruse yesterday while I was sitting here."

             
"What are we talking about?" Barnett asked, sounding a little peeved.

             
"Benjamin, my love, let me introduce our bridge partners for the past week by their proper names and styles," Cecily said. "Ariste George Alexander Buleforte Juchtenberg, Crown Prince of Rumelia and Duke of Lichtenberg; and his wife, the Princess Diane Maria Melisa d'Ardiss Juchtenberg, eldest daughter of le Compte d'Ardiss."

             
"Actually I am the sister of the current count," Diane said. "My father died about two years ago."

             
"I'm sorry," Cecily said. "It must have been an old edition of the
Almanach."

             
"Well!" Barnett said. He looked at the quondam Bulefortes and back at his wife. "Well!" he repeated. "Who would have guessed?"

             
"One person too many, obviously," the Crown Prince of Rumelia said.

             
"Well—
Your
Highness—what are you doing here? I mean, this is a perfectly nice pensione, but I thought royalty only stayed at the more exclusive watering places, 'nobbing and nobbing with their fellow bigwigs,' as a city editor I knew on the
New York World
liked to put it."

             
"Please, not 'Your Highness,' " Buleforte said
. "
At least for the remainder of the time we are here, let us remain 'Ariste' and 'Diane,' if you don't mind. This may be our last chance at such informality—perhaps forever."

             
"Ariste does not much enjoy the company of his fellow royals and nobles," Diane told them. "He finds them boring."

             
"For the most part," Ariste agreed. "They sparkle, they go to much trouble to sparkle, but they do not shine. It is as your Shakespeare put it: 'Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them.' When you are born great you find that you have inherited a position that you neither respect nor desire. Because, I suppose, you have done nothing to earn it. Or, at least, that is how I feel. Others believe that being
hochgeboren
is a sign of God's favor, which must be convenient for them."

             
"You feel unworthy of being a prince?" Barnett asked.

             
"Not at all," the prince said. "Do not misunderstand me. I feel just as worthy as anybody else. I think it is not a matter of worth, but of luck. What I feel, if I must define it, is blessedly lucky at having been born great; for I do not know whether I could have achieved greatness. And without greatness—without the social position I was born to—I could not have, among other things, met and married the Lady Diane d'Ardiss. And without her I would be much less than I am."

             
"Silly man," Princess Diane said
,
smiling the indulgent smile that women give their silly husbands. "I would have married you if you were the son of a miller."

             
"So!" Ariste said. "And I believe you, my love. But you would not have met me had I been the son of a miller, so it would never have come to the test."

             
Barnett wondered what was so ignoble about being a miller, but he did not ask. "I'm afraid your incognito will not do you any good here any longer," he said. "After all, someone has just thrown a bomb at you; presumably he knew who you are."

             
"That's true," Ariste acknowledged. "An interesting question, is it not? How did the forces of darkness discover, with such apparent ease, our presence at the Villa Endorra?"

             
"Does no one know where you are, Your Highness?" Cecily asked.

             
"Come! Please, I insist," Ariste said. "For the duration of our stay here we will have none of this 'highness' verbiage. When you come to visit us at Weisserschloss, I'm afraid the formalities will be in place. But not here."

             
"And you will come visit us," Princess Diane said. "So that we may thank you adequately. Besides, Ariste has no one to play bridge with back home. We think they're all afraid to win; a trait that you two have decidedly not shown."

             
"As far as knowing that we are here," Ariste said, "very few people know that. Outside of those I travel with, only my mother, my chief minister, and Frau Schimmer knew. Most incognito is a joke, you know. Your
prince
of Wales traveled to Paris as the Baron something-or-other; but everyone he came in contact with was warned as to who he really was. The Tsar goes incognito, but never as anything less than a duke, and only among those who already know who
he is
. It is merely so that a layer of formality can be done away with by pretending that the tsar is not present.

             
"My incognito, on the other hand, is honest. First of all, I really enjoy traveling simply and without adornment; and without the score of retainers that would be necessary for the least sort of official visit. So does the princess."

             
"The first time Ariste suggested it," Diane said, "I confess that I thought he was out of his mind. But he was insistent. And he was right. If you travel with your household, the only thing you really change is the climate. You get to see nothing of the people, or their customs, or their problems. You know nothing of those who depend upon you."

             
Prince Ariste nodded. "There is a story that when the last tsar traveled through Russia the army went ahead and made sure that the houses were freshly painted in the towns he passed through. And if the people of the town were too poor to paint all the houses, then they made sure that the houses on the street through which the tsar passed were painted. And if the people were too poor to paint the houses along the street, then they made sure that at least the fronts of the houses were painted. The tsar lived his entire life without ever seeing a dirty house."