Weidenbruck lies in the wildest part of the valley of the
Niederkessel. On either side,--at the distance of several
miles--rise mountains of picturesque outline and considerable
eminence. Prominent among these stands the Piz Schadel, a grim giant
with a fatal fascination for those who affect dangerous
rock-climbing. It is on the lower slopes of the Piz Schadel,--snug
among its pinewoods, and facing southwards to the sun,--that the tiny
village of Nussheim is situated. The little train that plies between
the capital and this sunny hamlet was fairly crowded,--despite the
earliness of the hour--for ski-running is a favourite amusement of
Grimlanders, and the slopes of Nussheim offer an ideal ground for the
exercise of that exhilarating pastime. The royal party had a
carriage to themselves, and in due course they steamed through the
outskirts of Weidenbruck, across the flat, snow-covered plains of the
valley, and then mounted by means of a cog-wheel and a centre rail,
to the little yellow station that was their objective. A party of
tourists in blue glasses and check ulsters--Americans, to judge from
the accent and phraseology of their leader, a tall black-bearded man
with a Baedeker--got out at Nussheim and proceeded to the local
hostelry. The King and his companions repaired to a small chalet,
where their skis were awaiting them. Having shod themselves with
their long footgear, they sallied forth on to the snow. The sun was
just rising above the opposite mountains, and the scene was one of
quite extraordinary beauty. The air was still and crisp and
invigorating, but so dry on this elevated plateau that there was no
sensation of cold, though the thermometer gave a far lower reading
than at Weidenbruck. The sky was purest ultra-marine, and in the
perfect air every detail of the surrounding hills, forest, crag, and
hamlet, stood out with soft distinctness. And everywhere was snow
and the silence of the snows; white fields of sparkling purity
swelling and falling in smooth stretches of shimmering argent. Above
were dun precipices and dark green woods of larch and fir, and above,
again, fairy snow-peaks, showing like dabs of Chinese white against
the cloudless glory of the sky. It was a day to live and be thankful
for life; a day for deep breath and noble thoughts, a day to take
one's troubles to Nature and lose them in the splendid silence of her
hills and the vastness of her immaculate snows.
The royal party of five shuffled along on their wooden footgear till
they came to a long dip with a gentle rise at the end of it. Karl
was the first to essay the descent. With knees slightly bent, one
foot slightly in front of the other, his burly body noticeably
inclined forward, he started on his downward course. For a second or
two he moved slowly. Then the pace increased till he was travelling
at a sharp speed; then, as the momentum grew, and the angle of the
hillside sharpened, he fairly flew through the air in the swift,
smooth rush that brings joy to the heart of the ski-runner. At the
bottom he got into some soft snow, and after a fruitless struggle
with the laws of gravity, the royal equipoise was overcome, and Karl
lay prone and buried in the gleaming crystals. A roar of delight
burst from his companions above, and a ski-shod foot was waved
answeringly in the air in plaintive rebuke at their merriment.
Mrs. Saunders was the next to come down. With perfect
balance,--relying not at all on her guiding stick,--she swept down
the mountain-side like a Valkyrie. With grey eyes shining with
pleasure, wisps of fair hair streaming from under her woollen beret,
she seemed the embodiment of graceful and athletic young womanhood.
Her course was taking her direct on to the prostrate monarch, but at
the critical moment she swung round with a superb Telemark turn, and
halted to watch Karl's desperate efforts to regain an upright
position.
The others descended in turn with varying elegance but without
serious mishap, Von Hügelweiler bringing up the rear and nearly
injuring his sovereign whom he had sworn so solemnly to defend.
Onward they went again, shuffling along levels, gliding down
descents, mounting laboriously sideways, like crabs, when it was
necessary to reach higher ground. In the pleasurable absorption of
their sport they wandered far, ever gaining fresh joys of swift
descent or harmless fall, and winning fresh views of plain and wood
and mountain.
"There go the Americans," said the King to Mrs. Saunders. "They have
been travelling parallel to us."
The King's party had collected under a mutual desire for rest, by a
crop of boulders which broke through the level surface of the snows.
"Parallel to us," agreed Meyer, mopping his humid face, "but I notice
that they always manœuvre for the upper ground."
The King frowned at the General's speech. He was enjoying the
morning's relaxation from his usual worries, and Meyer's words,--if
they had any meaning at all,--suggested personal danger to himself
and his friends.
"They are excellent ski-runners," said Mrs. Saunders, watching them
as they moved rapidly to a point of the hill above them.
But Meyer was whispering something in the King's ear, and a vague
sense of apprehension had taken the party.
Karl nodded, as one convinced against his will, and spoke briefly to
the company.
"General Meyer suggests that those people may not be quite so
harmless as they seem," he said. "Personally, I think he is
over-suspicious, but in order to be on the safe side, I propose
doubling back down the hill, and if they turn, too, and follow us, we
will assume the worst."
The others received the statement in silence.
The gorgeous splendour of the day and the unmatched loveliness of the
scene seemed to mock the timidity of the Commander-in-Chief's
imaginings. But all present were too familiar with Grimland politics
to question the prudence of the King's decision; and with scarce a
backward glance they turned round and followed General Meyer down the
hillside. Presently they reached a cliff of brown rock which broke
the slope of the mountain with a precipitous drop of some twenty
feet. Beneath this and parallel to it Meyer decided to proceed, till
the King called a halt for purposes of reconnoitering.
Far below them lay the valley of the Niederkessel, and plainly
discernible were the tiny houses and toy churches of the capital.
But above them it was impossible to see anything except the
golden-brown wall of rock which they were following.
As swiftly as the operation permitted, Meyer slipped off his skis,
bidding Von Hügelweiler do the same. The Captain was then told to
stand leaning against the cliff, whereupon the Commander-in-Chief
clambered bravely on to his shoulders. Then with an agility
remarkable for his years, he drew himself up to the ledge of rock
from which it was possible to overlook the top of the cliff. He
gazed for a moment with peering eyes, the others watching with silent
interest. Then he came down in a flash. "Skis on again, Captain,"
he said, kneeling down and inserting his foot in the shoe of his own
ski. "We must run for it."
"Who are they?" demanded the King.
"There are six of them, sire," answered the Commander-in-Chief,
tugging viciously at a refractory strap. "They are about five
hundred yards up the hillside, and the man in the beard is Father
Bernhardt!"
"Father Bernhardt in the beard!" ejaculated the others.
"In a false beard," affirmed Meyer. "He has had a fall, and one side
has come unhooked. It's the ex-priest, sure enough, and full of
vengeance for his last night's inconvenience. We'd better move at
once."
Karl hesitated a moment.
"I don't like running away," he said, glancing at Saunders and Von
Hügelweiler.
"I do," retorted Meyer, "when it's six to four in their favour. Come
sire, we shall never get a better chance than this. They can't
follow us direct, because of this cliff, and while they are making a
detour we will push on to some spot on the railway, and hold up a
train to take us back to Weidenbruck."
"The General's right," said Saunders, seeing the King hesitate. "We
have a lady with us."
"Who is not in the least afraid," added the lady in question.
"That is precisely the trouble," said Saunders.
"Forward, sire!" urged Meyer, making a move. "I will lead the way,
and you and Mrs. Saunders will accompany me. Von Hügelweiler and
Heir Saunders will bring up the rear."
"The post of honour!" commented the King.
"If you will," said Meyer with a shrug. "I go first because I know
the countryside. I am more useful so. Saunders stays behind because
he is the best shot."
"A gallant fellow, our Commander-in-Chief," sneered Von Hügelweiler
to Saunders, as the three others glided rapidly away down the
snow-slope. The crack of a rifle punctuated the Captain's remark.
Saunders waited to make sure that neither his wife nor her escort was
touched, and then produced a revolver.
"I am glad Meyer has gone on with them," he said. "He is a clever
old fox, and he knows every cliff and cranny in the countryside."
Another shot rang out, but this too failed to take effect, and in a
twinkling the fugitives had disappeared into the friendly shelter of
a pine wood.
Saunders wore a pensive air, in marked contrast to Von Hügelweiler,
who was betraying signs of strong excitement.
"Of what are you thinking?" demanded the latter.
"I am thinking that if we follow the others we shall most certainly
be shot," replied Saunders.
"That is true," agreed the Captain. "Our enemies must be quite close
now. It would be madness to venture out into the open."
"Precisely," said Saunders. "We are left here as a rear-guard, and
it is our duty to check the pursuit, not to be killed. Here we are
under cover, and here I propose to remain."
"The enemy will make a detour to avoid this cliff," said Von
Hügelweiler, "then will come our opportunity to move out."
Saunders shook his head.
"This cliff stretches half a mile at least, in either direction," he
said, "and there is broken ground beyond that. No, they won't make a
detour, not if they're the good ski-runners I take them for. To a
clever _ski-laufer_, a jump over a cliff like this is no very
desperate affair, and it's their only chance of nabbing Karl before
he gets back to Weidenbruck."
"Then we wait here and fire at them from behind?" demanded the
Captain excitedly, taking his orders from the distinguished
Englishman as a matter of course.
"We pot them as they come over--like pheasants," said Saunders.
There was a smile on his face, not at the prospect of taking human
life, still less at the chance of losing his own; for Saunders was
not one to welcome danger for its own sake, though he could always
meet it with coolness and resource. He was thinking, just then, of
Trafford, and how willingly his excitable friend would have changed
places with them, how jealous and annoyed he would be at learning
that he, Saunders, had again the luck to be in the thick of a
desperate affair. Von Hügelweiler noted the smile with admiration.
Saunders was one who had a big hold on the popular imagination of
Grimland, and the Captain was proud to be associated with him in an
enterprise of this sort. His divided loyalty to the King and
Princess was quite forgotten in the exigencies of the situation. He
had a plain duty to perform,--and he hoped to perform it creditably
in the eyes of the cool, smiling Englishman who had won such fame in
the stirring winter of 1904.
Suddenly there was a slight scuffling sound in the snow above, and a
second later something dark came over their heads like an enormous
bird. It was one of their pursuers, a braced, rigid figure
travelling through the air with the grace and poise of a skilled
ski-juniper. Saunders raised a steady hand and fired.
Simultaneously the human projectile collapsed into a limp and
shapeless mass and fell with a dead plump into a cloud of snow. A
second later and another ski-jumper had darkened the heavens above
them. He had heard the crack and seen his comrade fall, but it was
too late to stop his progress. He turned a swarthy face with black
eyes full of terror, and again Saunders' revolver spoke, and with a
dull groan the man fell spread-eagled in the snow within a yard of
his companion.
"Bravo! Englander," muttered Von Hügelweiler, his eyes bright with
excitement, his fingers nervously clutching the butt of his own
weapon.
But Saunders' eyes were cast upwards at the jagged edge of the cliff
above their heads. After a wait of some moments the face of a man
peered over the skyline. Instantaneously Saunders covered it with
his revolver. But the face remained, and a voice--the voice of
Father Bernhardt--spoke.
"Don't fire, Herr Saunders!"
Saunders remained fixed and tranquil as a statue.
"You have killed two of my men, Englishman," went on the ex-priest.
"I think not," returned Saunders calmly. "The second man was only
wounded in the thigh."
"I should be justified in taking your life for this," continued
Father Bernhardt.
"Perfectly," agreed Saunders with composure, "but you will find the
proceeding difficult and rather dangerous."
A low laugh followed Saunders' words.
"That's the spirit I admire!" cried the outlaw. "There's a dash of
the devil about that--and the devil, you know, is a particular friend
of mine."
"So I have been led to understand," said Saunders drily.
Again the outlaw laughed.
"Come," he said, "will you make a truce with us? We could probably
kill you and your friend there, but we should lose a man or two in
the killing. Make truce, and we give you a free return to
Weidenbruck, or wherever you choose to go. Your friend Karl has got
away safely now,--thanks to your infernal coolness,--so you can make
peace with honour."
Saunders shrugged his shoulders.
"If my friend, Captain von Hügelweiler, agrees," he said, "I consent.
Only there must be no further pursuit of us or the royal party."
"I give my word," said Bernhardt.
"Can we trust it?" whispered Von Hügelweiler. But the ex-priest
overheard, and for answer clambered down the cliff beside them.
Von Hügelweiler was no coward, but something made him give ground
before the strange individual who confronted him. A man of medium
height and compact build, there was a suggestion of great muscularity
about the outlaw's person. But it was the face rather than the body
which compelled attention. The clean-carved, aquiline features, the
black, bushy eyebrows, the piercing eyes, and the strange, restless
light that played in them, made up a personality that set the
turbulent rebel as a man apart from his fellows.
"Now, then," he said, thrusting his face into Von Hügelweiler's,
"shoot me, and earn the eternal gratitude of your sovereign."
Again the Captain gave ground, though his timidity shamed and
irritated him.
"I am not a murderer," he said, flushing. "You come to parley, I
imagine."
"I come to shake Saunders by the hand," said the outlaw, turning and
stretching out a sudden hand to the Englishman. "He is a man, a
stubborn fellow, with a brain of ice and nerves of tested steel. I
would sooner have him on my side than a pack of artillery and the
whole brigade of Guards."
"You flatter me," said Saunders, taking the proffered hand. "I am a
man of peace."
"How lovely are the feet of them that bring us good tidings of
peace," said the outlaw with a scornful laugh. "Behold Satan also
can quote the Scriptures! When I sold my soul three years ago to the
Father of Lies I drove a fine bargain. I took a Queen to wife--such
a Queen, such a wife! And my good friends Ahriman, the Prince of
Darkness, and Archmedai, the Demon of Lust, have given me strength
and health and cunning beyond my fellows, so that no man can bind me
or prevail against me. They never leave me long, these good fiends.
It was one of them who warned me not to lead the pursuit of Karl over
this bit of cliff."
Von Hügelweller shuddered, but Saunders looked the outlaw steadily in
the face.
"Your nerves are out of gear, Bernhardt," he said. "Did you ever try
bromide?"
"I've tried asceticism and I've tried debauchery," was the leering
answer, "and they both vouchsafe visions of the evil one. When I was
a priest I lived as a priest: I scourged myself and fasted; but the
Prince of Power of the Air was never far from me. And now that I am
of the world, worldly, a sinner of strange sins, a blasphemer, and a
wine-bibber, Diabolus and his satellites are in even more constant
attendance on me. Perhaps I am mad, or perhaps they are there for
such as me to see."
"I'd chance the former alternative and see a brain specialist,"
suggested Saunders. "It might save a deal of wasted blood and
treasure to Grimland."
"There is no healing for a damned soul," said Bernhardt fiercely. "I
saw strange things before I drank the libidinous cup of Tobit. I see
them now. Saint or sinner, my eyes have been opened to the unclean
hosts of Beelzebub."
Saunders offered the unhappy man a cigarette.
"Saints and sinners generally do see things," he said
dispassionately. "I am neither, and my vision is normal. If you
would live a reasonable life for six months you might become a useful
member of society instead of a devil-ridden firebrand. Fasting is
bad and excess is bad. One starves the brain, the other gluts it.
Both lead to hallucinations. Take hold of life with both hands and
be a man with normal appetites and reasonable relaxations, and you
will have men and women for friends, not the unclean spawn of
over-stimulated brain-cells."
A puzzled look crept into Father Bernhardt's eyes. Then he shook his
head firmly.
"I won't talk to you any more," he cried angrily. "I hate talking to
you. I hate your cursed English common sense. If I saw much of you
I'd lose all the savour of life. I'd be a decent, law-abiding
citizen, and miss all the thrills and torments of a man fire-doomed."
"A good conscience is not a bad thing," said Saunders, "and a man at
peace with himself is king of a fine country. You're a youngish man,
Bernhardt, and the world's before you. Give up listening to devils,
and the devils will give up talking to you. Go on listening to them
and the fine balances of sanity will be overthrown for ever."
"Silence!" cried the ex-priest, thrusting his fingers in his ears.
"Would you rob me even of my remaining joys? For such as me there is
no peace. I have my mission, and by the devil's aid I must perform
it!"
"We all have missions," retorted Saunders. "Mine apparently is to
preserve Karl from assassination. I don't boast a body-guard of
demons, but I'll back my luck against yours, Father Bernhardt."
The outlaw smiled again at these words.
"Good-bye, Englishman," he said, "I love you for your courage. Go in
peace," he went on, shaking him by the hand, but ignoring Von
Hügelweiler altogether. "But take heed to yourself, for you are
pitting yourself against a man who is neither wholly sane nor wholly
mad, and therefore entirely to be feared. Good-bye, and tell the Jew
Meyer that to-night I am dwelling in the Goose-market, at the house
of Fritz Birnbaum, the cobbler. Let him send to take me and see
whether he is stronger than my dear allies, Archmedai and Ahriman."
"I will make a point of doing so," said Saunders, preparing to
depart, "and I will lay a shade of odds on the Jew."