E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Graeme Mackreth, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustration.
See 28167-h.htm or 28167-h.zip:
(https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/1/0/28167/28167-h/28167-h.htm)
or
(https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/1/0/28167/28167-h.zip)
A MODERN MERCENARY
by
K. AND HESKETH PRICHARD
[E. AND H. HERON]
New York Doubleday, Page & Co. 1902
Copyright, 1899, by
Doubleday & McClure Co.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A LIEUTENANT OF FRONTIER CAVALRY 1
II. A GENTLEMAN OF THE GUARD 14
III. THE GENTLEMEN OF THE GUARD 28
IV. DANGER SIGNALS 41
V. GOOD LUCK AND A FIREFLY 48
VI. THE CLOISTER OF ST. ANTHONY 62
VII. ONE WOMAN'S DIPLOMACY 79
VIII. A QUESTION OF THE GUARD 94
IX. THE CASTLE OF SAGAN 106
X. COUNT SIMON OF SAGAN 120
XI. A COUNSEL OF EXPEDIENCY 130
XII. ANTHONY UNZIAR 136
XIII. LOVE IN TWO SHADES 144
XIV. HALF A PROMISE 153
XV. COLENDORP 159
XVI. 'WITH YOUR LIPS TO THE HURT' 170
XVII. IRIS 177
XVIII. THE SWORD OF UNZIAR 186
XIX. IN DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS 195
XX. UNDER THE PINES 202
XXI. LOVE'S BEGGAR 210
XXII. IN LOVE WITH HONOUR 222
XXIII. HOW RALLYWOOD HAD HIS ORDERS 233
XXIV. ON THE FRONTIER 239
XXV. A QUESTION OF TWO MORALITIES 246
XXVI. LOVE'S HANDICAP 258
XXVII. THE MAN OF THE HOUR 267
XXVIII. THE ARREST 277
XXIX. THE COURT-MARTIAL 282
XXX. 'UPON THE GREAT WORLD'S ALTAR-STAIRS' 292
XXXI. DUKE GUSTAVE 300
XXXII. FOR A SEASON 307
A MODERN MERCENARY
CHAPTER I.
A LIEUTENANT OF FRONTIER CAVALRY.
During four months of the year the independent State of Maäsau,' we will
call it--which is not very noticeable even on the largest sized map of
Europe--is tormented by a dry and weary north-east wind. And nowhere is
its influence more unpleasantly felt than in the capital, Révonde, which
stands shoulder-on to the hustling gales, its stately frontages and
noble quays stretching out westwards along the shores of the Kofn almost
to where the yellow waters of the river spread fan-wise into a
grey-green sea.
The _tsa_ was blowing strongly on a certain November afternoon, eddying
and whistling about the wide spaces of the Grand Square as John
Rallywood, a tall figure in a military cloak, turned the corner of a
side street and met its full blast. He faced it for some yards along the
empty pavements, then ran up the steps of his club. A few minutes later
he passed through a lofty corridor and entered a door over which is set
a quaint invitation to smokers, which may not be written down here, for
it is the jealously guarded copyright of the club.
It chanced that the room for the moment had but one occupant, who sat in
a roomy armchair by the white stove. This gentleman did not raise his
head, but continued to gaze thoughtfully at his well shaped though
square and comfortable boots.
Rallywood paused almost imperceptibly in his stride.
'Hullo, Major! Glad to see you,' he said, as he dropped into an armchair
opposite.
Major Counsellor stood up with his back to the stove, thereby giving a
view of a red, challenging face, heavy eyebrows, and a huge white droop
of moustache. He looked down at Rallywood consideringly before he spoke.
'So you're here. I imagined they kept you pretty closely on the
frontier. The world been kicking you?'
Rallywood laughed.
'No, but it would do me good to kick the world,' he answered as he
helped himself from the Major's cigar case. 'Five years, almost six,
spent on the frontier, with nothing to show for it, isn't good enough.
I've come up to send in my papers.'
'Then you'll be a fool,' returned the Major with decision.
Rallywood was busy lighting his cigar; when that was arranged to his
satisfaction he said easily--
'Just so. History repeats itself.'
Counsellor stood squarely upright with his hands behind him.
'Any other reasons?' he asked.
'Plenty.'
'Pity! Are they serious or--otherwise?'
Rallywood pulled his moustache.
'Why is it a pity?' he asked slowly.
'Because there is going to be trouble here, and with trouble comes a
chance.'
Rallywood smoked on in silence. He was a big, shallow-flanked man with
the marks of the world upon him, and that indescribable air which comes
to one who has passed a good portion of his time in laughing at the
arbitrary handicaps arranged by Fate in the race of life.
'Where do you propose to go?' asked Counsellor after an interval.
'Back to Africa, I think--Buluwayo, Johannesburg, anywhere. South
Africa's still in the bud, you see.'
'Yes, but it is a biggish bud and will take time to blow. You can afford
to wait and--it may be worth your while.'
Rallywood threw a swift glance at Counsellor's inscrutable face.
'Seven years ago,' he said in a deliberate manner, 'you told me it was
worth while, but life has not grown more interesting since then.'
'Ah!' Counsellor paused, then went on with a grim smile, 'At your age,
John, there are possibilities. Think over it. After hanging on here for
more than five years why lose your chance now? Look at those fellows.'
He pointed out into the square.
Rallywood rose lazily and gazed out also. The prospect was not cheering.
A few troopers, their cloaks flapping in the wind, were galloping across
the square on the way to relieve guard at the Palace, and under the
statue of the late Grand Duke on horseback three men in tall hats stood
talking together; then they turned and walked towards the club.
'Know them?' asked Counsellor.
Rallywood shook his head.
'The man with the beard is Stokes of the 'Times:' next him is Bradley;
he's on another big daily. Their being here speaks for itself. Maäsau is
going to take up people's attention shortly. The Grand Duke is in a
tight place, and there will be a flare-up sooner or later.'
'And you advise me to stop and see it through?' said Rallywood
meditatively from the window; then he lounged back to his chair. 'How
will it end?'
Counsellor shook the ash from his cigar.
'Selpdorf is the man of the hour,' he said.
On the autumn evening when these two men were talking at the club the
Duchy of Maäsau was, in the opinion of Maäsaun patriots, going as fast
as it could to the devil. With them, it may be added, the devil was
personified and bore the name of a neighbouring nation. The one person
who ignored this fact was the Grand Duke. With an inset, stubborn pride
he believed that his country must remain for ever, as the long centuries
had known her, Maäsau the Free. This being the case, he felt himself at
liberty to spend his time in cursing the fate that had refused blue seas
and skies to wintry Révonde, thus depriving it of these sources of
revenue which depend upon climate, and which are enjoyed by places far
less naturally beautiful than the capital of Maäsau.
The Duke, prematurely aged, by the manner of his life, made it his chief
business to devise schemes for raising money whereby he might carry on
the staling pleasures of his youth. Beyond this the administration of
public affairs was left entirely in the supple hands of the Chancellor,
M. Selpdorf, while the Duke, with those who surrounded him, plunged into
the newest excitement of the hour, for who knew what a day might bring
forth? The Court was like a stage lit by lurid light, on which the
actors laughed and loved, danced and fought to the music of a wild
finale, that whirled and maddened before the crash of the coming end.
Once upon a time Maäsau was accounted of no particular importance or
value amongst its bigger neighbours; but of late, for various reasons,
its fortunes had become the subject of attention and discussion in at
least three foreign chancelleries, where old maps were being looked up
and new ones bought and painted different colours, according as seemed
most desirable by the bearded men, who sat in council to apportion the
marsh, rock, dune, and forest of which the now absorbingly interesting
pigmy State was composed.
In fact, Maäsau, with its twenty miles or so of seaboard, containing one
excellent port _in esse_ and two others _in posse_, had become a
Naboth's vineyard to a country almost land-bound and yet dreaming of the
supremacy of the four seas. On this ambition and its possible
consequences the other Great Powers looked, to speak diplomatically,
with coldness.
It was generally understood that the English Foreign Office desired the
maintenance of the _status quo_; France was supposed to be ready to clap
a young republic on the back and to accord it her protection, while
Russia played her own dumb and blinding game, of which none could
definitely pronounce the issue. The political world thus stood at gaze,
watching every change and prepared to take advantage of any chance that
offered. The honours of the game so far had lain with M. Selpdorf, who
scored each trick with the same bland smile. Whenever the Treasury of
Maäsau was at a low ebb Selpdorf usually had a thirteenth card to lay
upon the table, and as the nations cautiously proceeded to frustrate
each other's purposes royal remittances from Heaven knows where flowed
in abundantly to replenish the bankrupt exchequer of the State.
When Major Counsellor expressed his emphatic disapproval of the
intended resignation of Rallywood a new development was in the air.
Hitherto the lead had mostly devolved upon Selpdorf; on this occasion he
was known to be hanging back, and the question of who would take the
initiative was the question of the day. The fact that Germany had lately
accredited a new representative, a certain Baron von Elmur, to the Court
of Maäsau,--an able man whose reputation rested mainly on the successful
performance of missions of a delicate nature,--added to the tension of
the moment.
'So you say they are getting up steam in Maäsau?' said Rallywood again.
'I have been out in the wilds for the last six months, and don't know so
much about events as I might.'
'Steam?' growled Counsellor. 'Steam enough to wreck Europe! I almost
wish I'd never godfathered you into this blessed little stoke-hole. Why
the deuce didn't you enlist at home instead of coming here?'
'That was out of the question, of course.'
'Why? Isn't our army good enough for you to fight in?'
'If it was only that!--I could fight in the ranks, God knows, but I
couldn't parade in them! Besides, the life here suited me--then.'
'What's gone wrong with it now? I should have thought you would have got
used to it by this time,' observed Counsellor with the air of the older
man. It was not the first occasion on which he had played the part of
elderly relative towards Rallywood during the course of their queer,
rough-grained friendship--a friendship of a type which exists only
between man and man, and even then is sufficiently rare.
'Precisely, I'm too infernally used to it! It was not half bad as long
as the newness lasted, but I can't stand it any longer! I'm sick of the
monotony. Do you know old Fitzadams's criticism on the service here?
"Dust and drill, drill and dust, and fill in the chinks with homicidal
manoeuvres."'
'Maäsau only apes its betters. These Continental armies devote
themselves very assiduously to rehearsals, and there is no end of waste
about the process,' remarked Counsellor. 'They rehearse in summer and
get sunstroke; then they rehearse in winter with rheumatisms and lung
troubles growing on every bush. The bill for blank cartridges alone is
enormous! And all because they have no India and no Africa, as we have,
where we can give our fellows a taste of the real thing any day in the
week. We carry on a small war with a regiment, or despatch a youngster
with half a company to teach manners and honesty to twenty thousand
niggers. The peculiarity of our army is that it is always at war. In
this way we escape the dangers of theory, and get practice with
something for our money into the bargain.'
'Our plan has its advantages,' agreed Rallywood lazily. 'I saw in South
Africa what a little active service does for a man. The first time he
is under fire he is persuaded that he is going to be killed, and that
every shot must hit him. But after a trial or two he begins to think the
odds are in his favour and he becomes a much more effective fighting
machine.'
'Necessarily he does. We don't half realise the value of our colonies
yet--as a training ground for our soldiers. The British army is the
smallest in Europe, but it remains to be seen what account it will give
of itself if it is ever brought into contact with these huge,
peace-trained conscript monsters.'
'When the Duke dies----' began Rallywood, harking back to the former
topic of conversation.
The door was softly opened, and a waiter advanced into the room, bearing
a letter for Rallywood, who took it and laid it down on the table beside
him, then looked at Counsellor for an answer to his half spoken
question. Counsellor shrugged his shoulders.
'Who can tell?' he replied. 'Meanwhile take the gifts the gods have sent
you to-day,' and he pointed to the long, heavily sealed envelope that
lay at Rallywood's elbow. 'Selpdorf, I see, already has his finger upon
you.'
Rallywood broke the great seals, and, having read, he tossed the paper
into the other's hands.
'He wishes to see me at 9.30. What can he want with me?' he asked.
'Probably he has heard you intend to cut the service. It appears to me,
Rallywood, that your chance has come out to meet you.'
'How could he have heard that I meant to go? And what can it matter to
any one if I do?' went on Rallywood incredulously.
Counsellor shook his head, but made no other reply.
'A lieutenant of the Frontier Cavalry,' resumed Rallywood, 'is merely a
superior make of excise officer!'
'You will be something more or something else before 10, I expect. As
for what he wants with you, that is for you to find out--if you can.'
'It is to be hoped he may feel moved to let me have my arrears of pay,'
said Rallywood, relapsing into his usual tone of indifference; 'that is
the chief consideration with us on the frontier just now.'
'He probably will if it suits him--or rather perhaps if you suit him.
Come over and dine with me presently at the Continental. There's
generally a decent dinner to be had there.'
John Rallywood, one of the old Lincolnshire Rallywoods, had been born to
a fortune, and moreover with an immense capacity for enjoying it after a
wholesome fashion. Queens Fain had fallen to him while still an infant
upon the death of a great-uncle, and with the old place were connected
all those hundred untranslatable ties and associations which go to make
up a boy's dreams. He was a man of suppressed, perhaps half unconscious,
but nevertheless deep-rooted enthusiasms; hence when the blow fell
which deprived him not only of his inheritance, but also cut short the
life of his mother, the unexpected, almost intolerable anguish he
silently endured had left a deep, defacing scar upon his personality.
Up to twenty-two the record of his life, if not striking, had been clean
and manly. He had passed through Sandhurst, and joined a dragoon
regiment for something over a year, when an older branch of the family,
supposed for a quarter of a century to be extinct, suddenly presented
itself very much alive in the person of a middle-aged, middle-class
American. Within three months the man's claim was substantiated, and
estate, fortune, position, and home--as far as John Rallywood was
concerned--had melted into thin air.
During this period of disruption and trouble Counsellor, who happened to
be distantly connected with him, came into his life. They did not meet
very often and spoke little when together, but mutual knowledge and
liking resulted. Friendship is a living thing: it cannot be made; it
grows.
Rallywood, when he turned to seek the means of a livelihood, found
himself, as he said long afterwards, standing in the corridor of life
with all the doors shut and no key to open them.
His tastes and training alike led in the direction of a military career,
and presently he went out to the Cape, where he spent a year or two in a
police force which was in time disbanded, and he returned to England
once more at a loose end.
At this juncture Major Counsellor suggested to him the possibility of
obtaining a commission in the little army of the Duchy of Maäsau. This
hint set him on the right track. The regiments of Maäsau, though few in
number, carried splendid traditions. Their ranks were drawn from a
stolid, silent peasantry, and officered by a wire-strung, high tempered
aristocracy, born of a mixed race, it is true, but none the less
frantically devoted to the freedom and independence of their shred of a
fatherland.
In compliance with a private request on the part of Major Counsellor the
British Minister at Révonde bestirred himself to procure a commission
for Rallywood, who thus became a lieutenant in the Frontier Cavalry, and
for more than five years had taken his share in riding and keeping the
marches of Maäsau gaining much experience in capturing smugglers and in
superintending the digging out of snowed up trains. But life on the
frontier, though crammed with physical activity and routine work, was in
every other respect monotonously empty, and breaks in the shape of
furlough were few and far between. Half liked, wholly respected, and a
little feared amongst his comrades, but always remaining a lieutenant to
whom now, the State owed eighteen months' arrears of pay, Rallywood, in
return, owed to Maäsau only the qualified service of an unpaid man, but
gave it the full devotion of a capable officer.
As to Counsellor, no one could quite account for his presence at Révonde
at the present moment. He was supposed to be attached in some indefinite
way to the Legation, but he described himself as a bird of passage,
whose appearance in the European capital simply meant whim or pleasure,
for he was growing old and lazy and could not be brought to account for
his wanderings, which he assured those who ventured to enquire were
chiefly undertaken in search of health. Nevertheless wherever he went or
came something interesting in a political sense--and more often than
not, in favour of British interests--was almost sure to happen.
In former days he had filled the position of military attaché to two or
three of the more important embassies, and was said to be the best known
man in Europe. He had, moreover, the right to carry upon his breast the
ribbon and decoration of more than one exclusive and distinguished
Order. Of the many rumours associated with him this saying was certainly
true: that one could never enter the smoking-room of any diplomatic club
in any city in Europe without standing a fair chance of encountering
Major Counsellor warming himself beside the stove.
Therefore he had naturally an enormous circle of acquaintance, each
individual knowing very little about him, though he always formed an
interesting subject of conversation, and a political opinion backed by
his name became at once important.