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THE RED CHANCELLOR
By SIR WILLIAM MAGNAY, BART.
Author of "The Man of the Hour," "Rogues in Arcady," "The Pitfall,"
etc.
WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED
LONDON, MELBOURNE AND TORONTO
[Illustration: "You may be my friend in this place where I have no
friends." (Chapter XVIII.)
_The Red Chancellor_] [_Frontispiece_
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I DUKE JOHANN'S CHAPEL 5
II THE FACE IN THE LIGHT 11
III THE JAGUAR 15
IV THE KING AND THE CHANCELLOR 19
V THE DESERTED BALL-ROOM 23
VI THE CAPSIZED BOAT 31
VII SUPPER AT THE BARONESS'S 40
VIII THE BEATING OF DEATH'S WINGS 46
IX THE DUEL 55
X AN ASYLUM 62
XI A COURT PHYSICIAN 66
XII A MYSTERIOUS OCCURRENCE 72
XIII THE STONE SARCOPHAGUS 77
XIV THE PROFESSOR IS MAIMED 86
XV A LESSON IN GEOLOGY 91
XVI A BLOW IS STRUCK 97
XVII THE JAGUAR'S DEN 104
XVIII A WORD OF WARNING 112
XIX THE FAN 118
XX THE LIVING DEAD 125
XXI A WASTREL 131
XXII THE LIGHT IN THE WOOD 138
XXIII WHAT WE SAW AT CARLZIG 145
XXIV THE MIDNIGHT BURIAL 150
XXV VON LINDHEIM'S DEPARTURE 154
XXVI I SHOOT WITH THE COUNT 160
XXVII THE DISH OF SWEETMEATS 166
XXVIII THE PRIOR'S ROOM 174
XXIX THE COUNT'S HOSPITALITY 179
XXX A DISCOVERY 186
XXXI THE DARK WAY 191
XXXII ASTA AT LAST 194
XXXIII AN OMINOUS VISIT 201
XXXIV WE OUTSTRIP OUR FORTUNE 209
XXXV THE ATTACK 220
XXXVI RESTORATION 230
XXXVII THE LAST MEETING 238
THE RED CHANCELLOR
CHAPTER I
DUKE JOHANN'S CHAPEL
"Von Orsova is playing a dangerous game."
"He takes the risk."
"Of what?" It was I who asked the question, curious to hear what
penalty attached to the handsome Rittmeister's temerity.
The three men gave glances at each other, as though inquiring which of
them could answer. My friend Von Lindheim broke the pause, replying
with a shrug--
"He is a Captain of Cavalry, Master of the Horse; a gentleman, noble,
no doubt, by birth, but a simple, if magnificent, Rittmeister. The
lady"--he glanced round towards the dark shadows of the trees, gave
another shrug of caution and lowered his voice,--"is what we all know.
To couple their names is high treason; and, _a fortiori_, it is treason
in a higher degree for the Bursche to aspire."
"We have not forgotten," another said, "the case of poor Steiner."
I saw they were not inclined to run risks by discussing State secrets
under the very walls of the palace, so postponed the gratification of
my curiosity until I should get Von Lindheim alone in my rooms or his
house. We four had slipped out into the gardens, to snatch ten minutes
for a cigarette from the rather dreary formality of a State ball at
the palace of Buyda. My three companions were guests in their official
capacities, being attached to the bureau of the world-known Chancellor
Rallenstein; I, Jasper Tyrrell, a mere traveller, through the friendly
offices of Von Lindheim, to whom I had an introduction. I had gone
abroad in a restless, roving frame of mind, ready for any adventure,
and heartily sick of the monotony of inaction, forced inaction, very
slightly relieved by the problematical fun of entertaining big shooting
parties at my place in Norfolk. That seemed all I had to look forward
to in the year, and the more I thought of my autumn programme the more
restless and discontented had I grown. Even the temporary diversion
of marriage, strenuously commended to me by certain not altogether
disinterested friends, had failed to take hold on my fancy; amusements
of that sort can be arranged at any time and at comparatively short
notice. So one night at dinner, during which several friends and
relations were good enough to map out a very pretty six months'
programme for me--and themselves--my resolution was taken, and before I
had got into bed that night my kit for an extended solitary ramble was
packed. Next day I made a bolt of it, leaving to an astute aunt full
authority, by letter, to carry on Sharnston in my absence, and after a
month's desultory progress found myself at Buyda.
A generation ago there were, as every student of European diplomacy
knows, some very curious political intrigues (we know more about them
now) in several of the Courts of Europe. More or less secret acts of
aggressive statesmanship were perpetrated which, had they not been
diplomatically covered up or explained away, would have seemed to set
the forces of civilization to right-about-face. But the press, like
speech, often serves, in some countries at any rate, to withhold rather
than to give out information, while special correspondents are mostly
acclimatized and often merely human.
Still, there was somewhere, in east central Europe for choice, a
chance of seeing something of life a little more adventurous than
the cricket field or the covert at home had to offer, and with young
blood in one's veins, a perfect digestion, a muscular system second to
none at Angelo's, the idea of a possible running into adventures is
not displeasing. The dull smoothness and security of a well-policed
community is monotonous to a man of spirit.
Such were the vague anticipations with which I set forth, but my
imagination certainly never suggested such a series of adventures as
that which I was to pass through before I got back.
I had purposely left my destination uncertain, even to my own mind.
In the true spirit of adventure I would be bound by no fixed route,
but let my fancy and the circumstances of the moment carry me whither
they would. Only one indication of any sort of purpose did I take with
me. That was a letter of introduction from an F. O. friend to an old
school-fellow of his, Gustav von Lindheim, a rich young fellow who had
been educated in England, and who now held a post in the Chancellory of
his native State. It was in that corner of Europe that something of an
adventure seemed most likely to be had, and it was there, to pass over
my earlier wanderings, that I eventually found myself.
Through the half-open windows of the great ball-room came
"Amorettentänze," thundered out with military swing and insistence by
the resplendent Court band. In company with my three acquaintances I
had strolled away from the illuminated portion of the gardens, and we
were now pacing a dark and comparatively secluded walk. Encouraged
perhaps by the lessened probability of eavesdropping (for methods under
Rallenstein, the dread Chancellor's rule, were mediæval, more or less),
one of my companions remarked:
"Our Princess looks bewitchingly pretty to-night. The bold Rittmeister
has indeed an excuse."
"And she also," Von Lindheim replied. "The fellow is the most splendid
clothes-peg and wig-block combined that I know. He is magnificent, the
sort of magnificence that does not live to see its grandchildren."
"He is a fool," one of the others said, "to snap his fingers so close
to the Jaguar's snout."
"Orsova is a fool, my dear Szalay," Von Lindheim assented, "as I have
just hinted."
"And the Jaguar is couched and ready to spring at the right moment."
"Our dear chief does not make a mistake or let another man make it
against his policy."
"Or woman."
"Ah! He has a plan, and the Herr Rittmeister von Orsova forms no part
of it."
"No use for him. Prince Theodor----" I began incautiously, when I was
stopped by a subdued chorus of "Hush!"
"Secrets of State, my dear fellow," Von Lindheim said, laughing, but
with a warning gesture. "You will get us into trouble. You Englishmen,
with your excess of freedom, can't realize how circumspect we have to
be. You have no Jaguar ever ready for the spring. You don't know our
famous Red Chancellor--even by reputation."
Strolling and talking thus, we had passed through the gardens and
struck into a path, skirting a little wood beyond the pleasaunce of the
royal grounds. My companions stopped and turned.
"I'll just finish my cigar and follow you," I said. The Emperadore
was too good to throw away for the sake of hurrying back to an
entertainment of which, to tell the truth, the petty splendour rather
bored me.
Nevertheless, we all turned back together. Suddenly Szalay halted, and
pointed into the wood. "What is that?"
We all looked. A light was glimmering from the depth of the blackness;
a light suggested rather than seen.
"That is Duke Johann's old chapel there, now used as a summer-house,"
Von Lindheim said.
"Yes; but what can any one be doing there at this time of night."
"We ought to investigate," the third man, D'Urban, said with official
zeal.
"Come, then. We can get round this way again to the terrace, and
perhaps----"
They had plunged into the wood, making for the light. I followed them
a step or two, then stopped and regained the path, not seeing how the
question of the irregular illumination could interest me. Enjoying
my cigar I strolled on. The night was pleasant enough. A slight
warm breeze drove the clouds slowly across a gibbous moon, giving a
pretty play of light and shade. So I sauntered on in a frame of mind
attuned to my present surroundings. I had become so far acclimatized
as to take an interest in the Court intrigues which flourished in
the air of that Chancellor-ruled kingdom. I had an idea of seeking
a temporary commission in the State cavalry, that dazzling regiment
with its picture-book cattle and its theatrical accoutrements. I was
only awaiting to see whether there was any grit inside all that fur
and brass and steel and bullion, not caring to ear-mark myself with a
regiment of costumiers' dummies. This doubt made me take a peculiar
interest in that magnificent spectacular warrior, the Rittmeister von
Orsova. Granted he was a fool, he might be a plucky fool. That the
pretty Princess Casilde (and she was lovely) was in love with him,
or something near it, was common gossip in the inner circle of Court
officialdom. But the despotic Chancellor held other views and plans.
Having made himself the foremost man in the State (for the King,
with all his parade of authority, was notoriously under his thumb),
he now nursed the one idea of the State's aggrandizement as the only
way left of increasing his own power. And it was evident that that
aggrandizement could best be attained by allying his master's house
with the richer and more important state of which Prince Theodor was
heir-apparent. Hence the projected marriage between that Prince and the
Princess Casilde. Such was the state of affairs when I found myself in
Buyda.