the searching of my house was strangely timed with our drive in the
Bois."
"Oh, Countess!" the Ambassador exclaimed. "Surely you forget that I
only availed myself of your courteous invitation."
"Which I could do no less than give since you explained that you had
foregone your afternoon sleep to meet me there," she replied quickly,
and smiled, the smile of a very charming woman of the world, as most
people considered her; but Lord Cloverton seemed to catch some meaning
behind the smile, and the King felt that he ought to come to his rescue.
"We have both fallen under the Countess's displeasure; how can we prove
how unjustly? I will reprimand my too zealous officers, and they shall
make you an apology."
"Your Majesty is good," she answered. "For myself it is no great
consequence, but had you witnessed the consternation of my servants,
you would have understood how serious a matter it was in their eyes."
"Subjects and servants alike, Countess, are our masters," said the
King.
Frina Mavrodin departed full of thanks and wreathed in gracious smiles.
When she had gone, the King and the Ambassador looked inquiringly at
each other.
"I think your suspicions were unfounded, my lord," the King said.
"I missed the centre of the target, your Majesty, but I believe I aimed
at the right mark. She is a clever woman; I admire her more every day."
Lord Cloverton spoke the truth; he did admire her. Like all great men,
he was quick to recognize the sterling worth of his adversaries, and
it was borne in upon him more and more that in this crisis he had a
clever and beautiful woman to deal with, and what antagonist could be
more powerful? He began to rearrange his thoughts upon this basis,
passed in review all the seemingly trivial incidents with which Frida
Mavrodin had been connected, and found many new meanings in them. The
possibility that her influence might be paramount in Sturatzberg dawned
upon him. Such a subtle power at work would explain many things, and
the Ambassador determined to watch her more closely than ever.
All that day search was made for Captain Ellerey throughout the city.
Many places, known to be haunts of the dissatisfied, were entered, but
were innocent of even the appearance of evil. There were too many ready
to bear warning for such places to be taken unawares. But no other
houses of such importance as the Countess Mavrodin's were disturbed.
There was no result. No one had seen Captain Ellerey; indeed, few
people appeared to know him, or to have heard of him. This Lord
Cloverton did not believe. He thought he recognized Frina Mavrodin's
influence at work in such ignorance.
It was on the following day that Monsieur De Froilette called at the
Embassy, and was shown into Lord Cloverton's room. With this new train
of thought in his mind, the Frenchman's importance in the politics of
Wallaria appeared to sink into insignificance.
"You are welcome, monsieur. Is this a friendly visit or--"
"Friendly, certainly, but something more," De Froilette answered. He
had not come to the Embassy without due deliberation. He had had an
audience with the Queen that morning, and there was something in her
tone which decided him to make his own interests doubly secure by
giving help to the British Ambassador--such help that might count for
much when the time for settling accounts came, but which should not
materially hasten that time.
"I had begun to think you had forgotten your promise," said Lord
Cloverton, "News of Captain Ellerey would be very useful to--to the
Government of this country. You had a servant watching him, I think."
There was something resembling the Queen's tone in the Ambassador's--a
want of appreciation of his position and importance.
"That is so," replied De Froilette quietly. "I understand you--that is,
the Government--have done your utmost to find this Englishman, and have
failed."
"At present, monsieur, at present."
"Which is hardly wonderful," continued De Froilette. "I have so
constantly observed that you--the Government, I should say--concentrates
its energies in the wrong direction; is it not so, my lord?"
"An opinion which may--observe, I do not say which does, but which
may--arise from an entirely wrong conception of the Government's aims."
"_Ma foi_, that is so!" laughed the Frenchman, conscious that the
Ambassador was annoyed. "Of course, in my ignorance I have supposed
that the Government, in searching for this Captain Ellerey, really
wanted to find him. Foolish of me! It was a mere blind, a strategy,
to mislead. The Government is really looking for some one else. Pardon
me, my lord, for taking up your time." And De Froilette rose to go.
"You are too hasty, monsieur; pray be seated again. It is Captain
Ellerey we want."
"Ah! Then I am not deceived," said De Froilette, sitting down again.
"Tell me, why do you so persistently look for him in the wrong place?"
"Can you show us the right one, monsieur?"
"Send your troops out by the Southern Gate and bid them march toward
Breslen, and let sharp eyes watch the depths of the forest. They may
be rewarded by seeing men gathering to a centre there. Find that centre
and you shall find Captain Ellerey."
"Is it your timber business which teaches you so much?" inquired Lord
Cloverton with a smile, some contempt looking out from behind it.
"You laugh at my trade, but it may prove useful even to you. You watch
the city gates, you search every street and corner of Sturatzberg, and
behold your bird is flown and is many hours upon his journey before
you even start in pursuit."
"This is most interesting, monsieur, but--"
"But you do not believe it," interrupted De Froilette. "I have had a
message from this Captain Ellerey. My servant watched his lodgings.
Early in the morning a boy brought a message to the Captain's servant.
Francois, my man, entered the house and got into conversation with
this servant, a rude soldier with small understanding, but with stanch
love for his master. Put upon his guard by Ellerey, doubtless, he
conceives the possibility that Francois may be playing the spy, and
falling upon him unawares he gags and binds him and locks him in a
cellar. The next day Captain Ellerey, a band of horsemen with him,
meets a woodman in the forest toward Breslen, and by him sends me word
that my servant is gradually starving behind his cellar door, of which
the woodman gives my the key. I go to the Captain's lodging, and there
is Francois. _Pauvre garcon_, he was hungry, my lord; and, _ma foi_,
he will be very terrible the next time he and that soldier meet."
"On the Breslen road, you say," Lord Cloverton remarked thoughtfully.
He had made up his mind quickly.
"Probably in Breslen itself by this time. I understand there is much
dissatisfaction there."
"And Captain Ellerey's object, monsieur?"
The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders as though such a consideration
had not occurred to him.
"Is my opinion worth anything, my lord? I am not in the councils of
the Government. I know little of the State's difficulties, the plots
which threaten, the particular points of danger; but as a private
person I should incline to the belief that it has to do with the
Princess Maritza. I have already told you that she is, or was, in
Sturatzberg You do not believe it. That is a pity."
"I am beginning to believe it, monsieur," the Ambassador answered,
"and I thank you for coming here to-day. The gates of Sturatzberg are
not so well guarded as they should be."
"That is not my affair," said De Froilette with a smile. "I have given
my information to you because I know the prestige of Lord Cloverton
and his value to the peace of Wallaria."
With these parting compliments the Frenchman bowed himself out, feeling
that he had established his position with the Ambassador, and put him
off the real scent at one and the same time. The pleasant security of
the latter feeling was destined to be quickly and rudely dispelled.
Some troops certainly did leave the city and go toward Breslen, but
many more set out in the opposite direction and stretched across the
country which lay between Sturatzberg and the mountains. Lord Cloverton,
in advising the King, was still convinced that the most imminent danger
threatened from the brigands in the hills.
The despatch of the troops did not surprise Frina Mavrodin. That they
should go chiefly toward the hills seemed only natural, seeing that
the brigands lay there. The time since she had returned to find that
her home had been searched had passed in a whirl of conflicting
emotions. For a few moments after dismissing Hannah she had stood
upright, immovable, with a sense of being alone in the world. All the
interests and hopes of her life seemed to slip from her and fall into
a heap of dead ashes at her feet. The Princess had gone. Doubtless she
had meant to go when Frina had left her that morning, and had got her
out of the way on purpose. It was Dumitru who had suggested her going
into the Bois; it was Dumitru, probably, who had persuaded Maritza
that the time to act had come. Not for a moment did Frina suppose that
Dumitru was cognizant of the fact that her house would be searched;
she did not believe that they had gone to escape discovery. If such
had been the case she would have been taken into their confidence. No;
the departure had taken place for the furtherance of plans in which
she had no part, and which she promptly linked with the disappearance
of Captain Ellerey. It never occurred to Frina to set watches to warn
the Princess should she return. She would not return. For good or ill
she had begun the final move toward her goal. What were her plans?
What chance had they of success? Frina knew what secret societies
nursed the cause of Princess Maritza in the city. She knew to a unit
what support could be depended upon, knew the exact value of it, the
strength and the weakness of it. The cause had looked to the hills for
support, not without reason, perhaps. Were not the men gathered there
rebels, ready to strike a blow at the Government? This had always been
Maritza's argument, and there had been some signs that she was right.
Frina knew that the material for revolt was to hand, but a resolute
leader had been lacking. Now this want had been supplied by Captain
Ellerey. It was round Ellerey that the whirl of Frina's emotions
centred. Her relief that the Princess had gone before the house was
searched gave place to the apprehension that she had gone to join
Captain Ellerey. She saw only a rival in her late guest. It was her
love for the man which ruled Frina Mavrodin's actions, not her love
for the cause. It was in this spirit that she made her complaint to
the King, for the time might come when her house would prove the only
safe refuge for Ellerey. It was in this spirit that, with her maid in
attendance, she presently went to visit Baron Petrescu.
The Baron's wound had not proved serious, but it had kept him to the
house. The Countess found him lying on a sofa, from which he half rose
as she entered. She hurried forward to prevent him.
"This is good of you, Countess," he said. "Strangely, you were in my
thoughts when you were announced."
She inquired about his wound and expressed her regrets in a few prettily
turned sentences. "It was nothing," said the Baron. "The greatest hurt
was to my pride."
"And, of course, you long for an opportunity of wiping out the defeat?"
said Frina.
"Curiously enough, that idea has not risen uppermost in my thoughts,"
Petrescu answered. "I owe the Englishman an apology for the attack
which was made upon him directly he succeeded in wounding me. He is
a gentleman and a gallant swordsman, and I writhe under the fear that
he believes that attack was of my contriving."
There was the genuine ring of truth in the Baron's words. Frina Mavrodin
was not surprised. She believed that she thoroughly understood him,
or would not have visited him.
"You would befriend Captain Ellerey were it in your power?" she
questioned.
"Gladly, for his own sake and for yours. Pardon me, Countess, if my
own confession slips out with these words. Those who love recognize
love quickly."
"Was that in your mind when you forced this duel upon Captain Ellerey?"
she asked.
"I have tried to believe that love for the cause stood first, Countess.
Please question me no further. I take refuge behind the punishment I
have received. That I have not forfeited all your esteem is proved by
your presence here. Tell me how I can serve you."
"Like many others, Baron, you jump to a conclusion too quickly; but
let it pass. There is weightier business in hand," and then she told
him all that was known about Ellerey, and of the disappearance of
Princess Maritza. "Knowing that the Princess always had it in her mind
to use Captain Ellerey when the time came," she went on, "I have little
doubt she has joined him in whatever mission he has undertaken. What
art she will, or can, use to turn him to her service, I do not know."
"He is not the man to be lightly turned from the cause he has espoused,"
said the Baron thoughtfully, "and that cause is not ours."
"Love might prove incentive enough," said Frina.
Petrescu turned to her quickly. The look in her eyes told him her
secret plainly enough, but her words were sufficient to have a
quickening influence on the hopes which had died within him.
"I may be jumping to a rash conclusion," Frina went on hastily, "but
if I am right--indeed, whatever art is used, what hope is there of
success?"
"None, unless those in the hills are with us," replied the Baron
decisively. "Here in Sturatzberg we have much enthusiasm, much talk,
much jealousy; but I doubt the fighting temper behind it. The Princess
has moved too soon."
"Is there any chance of her being able to persuade the brigands?"
"Where men are concerned I dare not limit the power of a woman," he
answered; "but since the Princess has moved, we are bound to be on the
watch. Failure will be disastrous to you and me, Countess."
"It will probably mean death to Princess Maritza, to Captain Ellerey
certainly."
"I understand," said the Baron. The hope that was in him died, and it
is doubtful if the woman ever gave him full credit for what his words
cost him. "I understand. To-morrow I shall be out again. Command me
and trust me. There shall at least be one arm to strike a blow in the
Englishman's defence, and back to back, Countess, he and I would render
no mean account of ourselves." She had taken the hand he held out in
token of her thanks and the compact between them when the door was
suddenly opened and a man entered hurriedly. He stopped abruptly,
seeing that his master was not alone.
"I have no secrets from this lady," said the Baron. "You may speak
freely."
"The city is in excitement," said the man. "Some horsemen have ridden
in saying that Captain Ellerey is in the hills surrounded by the
brigands. Instead of being on the King's service, as the men supposed,
he carried the token of Princess Maritza's house. The brigands
immediately attacked the party."
"Yes, and then?" exclaimed Frina.
"These men deserted, my lady, and left the Captain and two or three
companions to their fate. These fellows are boasting loudly of their
loyalty to the King."
"And the others, are they dead or captured?" asked the Baron quickly.
"It seems they managed to gain some ruin in the hills, and are there
making a last stand."
The Baron dismissed the man, and then turned sharply to the Countess.
"You must go quickly and learn all the news," he said. "My wound shall
be made to serve a useful purpose. It shall be sufficient to keep me
free from visitors for some days to come, but it will not prevent my
leaving Sturatzberg to-night. I have a few men I can rely upon. We may
not turn failure to success, but we may effect the escape of Captain
Ellerey and those who are with him. Have you a trusted messenger you
can send to me?"
"Yes."
"Learn all you can, then, and send word to me here before nine
to-night. At that hour you may know that I have departed, and what a
man may do, rest assured Countess, I will."
CHAPTER XVIII
SIX LOYAL MEN
From the Northern to the Southern, from the Eastern to the Western
gates Sturatzberg was in an uproar. Excitement was in every face, and
the wildest rumors were given credence. When the guards at the gates
were doubled and companies of soldiers were met in the streets, it was
firmly believed that the brigands were marching in overwhelming numbers
upon the city. Comparatively few had heard the news from the returned
horsemen's own lips, and from much reporting the tale had grown out
of all knowledge. After the excitement caused by the search for Captain
Ellerey the city was ready to believe anything.
As the Baron's servant had related, the horsemen were loud in their
boasting of loyalty. They had followed Captain Ellerey because they
believed they were on the King's service, they said, and never for a
moment had they supposed otherwise until they had seen the golden cross
in Vasilici's hands. This was the story they told the King when they
were taken to the palace, with much more concerning their own valor
when the brigands rushed upon them. They disagreed somewhat concerning
one another's valour, each one striving to impress the King in his own
favor; but they were of one voice regarding Ellerey's treachery and
the deceit which had been practised upon them. "What message or token
could you suppose I was sending to the brigands?" asked the King.
"It was not for us to inquire, your Majesty," they answered. "We knew
Captain Ellerey, and we obeyed him."
In the main their story was true. If Ellerey had mentioned the Queen
as their employer they had considered the King and Queen as one, and
no question was put to them to make them differentiate between them.
They were dismissed, and the King was for some hours closeted with one
or two of his prominent Ministers. They were men the King trusted, but
it was doubtful if their opinion ever weighed with him to the same
extent that Lord Cloverton's did. The news astonished the Ambassador,
but was reassuring. Whatever the cause, the Queen's plans at any rate
had miscarried, and the brigands were evidently not to be tempted into
the service of Princess Maritza. For the moment there was no danger
to be apprehended from them.
"I think we may leave this turbulent Captain and his companions to
Vasilici's tender mercies, my lord," said the King. "All we have to
guard against is a riot among the dissatisfied in Sturatzberg."
Perhaps the Ambassador felt sorry for Ellerey, but there was nothing he
could do.
"Has your Majesty ever supposed that Princess Maritza is, or has been
lately, in Sturatzberg?" he asked after a pause.
"It is impossible. Your Government has sent her visiting your colonies,
a delicate attention, which, no doubt, she appreciates."
"Just so, and yet I had a strange story brought to my notice. I heard
that she had managed to escape the delicate attention of my Government
and had returned to Wallaria. Needless to say, I did not believe the
story, but the deliverance of her token certainly lends credence to
it."
"She might send her token," said the King; "she would not venture
herself in the country, much less in Sturatzberg."
"That was my opinion," answered Cloverton.
"Do you mean that it is not your opinion now?"
"I am in a transitional stage, your Majesty, and have not yet decided."
So there were troops of soldiers in the streets lest rioters should
gather together and do damage. No one imagined there was enough power
behind them to really menace the city. A few men talked together
excitedly in side streets, but these dispersed quietly after a little
while without any interference from the soldiers.
The Countess Mavrodin drove in the Bois as usual. She held a little
court, her carriage drawn up to the sidewalk, and she listened to and
laughed at all the news. What could it all matter to her so long as
she could laugh and chatter and be happy?
"My horses will not stand still if you talk politics," she said to one
man. "They know their mistress is of the nature of a butterfly." The
man was one who was likely to be well informed, and she did not say
it until he had told her all he knew.
This butterfly nature of hers caused her to drive about a great deal
that day. She had shopping to do in the Konigplatz, in the square out
of which the Altstrasse ran and in the Bergenstrasse nearly as far
down as the Southern Gate. More than once she caught sight of a group
of excited men at a street corner, and once or twice she noticed that
a man would walk leisurely toward them, pause a moment, and then pass
on. Whenever this happened the little crowd dispersed immediately as
though some urgent business had suddenly occurred to each member of
it. It was late in the afternoon when the Countess returned home, and
before she retired to her private rooms she gave instructions for
certain servants, whom she mentioned by name, to be in readiness, as
she would require them presently. She had a small reception that evening
and was the most brilliant, as she was the most frivolous, among her
brilliant and frivolous guests. Yet before nine o'clock Baron Petrescu
had received some closely written sheets in her handwriting, and knew
much of what had happened in Sturatzberg that day.
But not all; that was, of course, impossible. In dark corners of the
city through which it was dangerous to travel after nightfall, there
were dismal houses, behind the fast-closed doors of which ready orators
held the attention of eager listeners. The time was near. The
emancipation from their slavery was at hand. What they had heard in
the city to-day was proof of it. Be ready! It was the same story
wherever men were gathered together. And in the constant coming and
going at the palace, the keenest eyes might easily have failed to
notice some who entered and left; and within there were many passages
known only to the initiated. One man passed in unnoticed, and in a
side room was met by another who, without a word, beckoned him to
follow.
"No further news?" asked the first.
"None," was the answer.
Along the same passage which Ellerey had once traversed was De Froilette
taken, and ushered into the Queen's presence. He bowed low, but she
had no thought of ceremony just now.
"Can you read this riddle, monsieur?" she asked. "All kinds of solutions
come to me, madam, but none that seem to entirely fit the case."
"One thing only stands clear," said the Queen: "this Captain Ellerey
is a traitor. You were a fool, monsieur, to bring him to my notice."
"I may have been mistaken."
"May? Indeed you have," she answered. "Heaven help him if he returns to
Sturatzberg; he will sorely need it."
"I say I may have been mistaken, your Majesty, and that is what I
mean," said De Froilette calmly. "Francois has seen these men who have
come back, and I am convinced that Captain Ellerey was as astonished
to see the token as any one."
"How could he be?"
"Are you certain of the man who delivered it to him?"
"As I am of myself. Do you still trust this Englishman?"
"If he wished to deceive us he could have done so in a much more
effectual way," said De Froilette, "and served his own ends better.
Men like Captain Ellerey do not join themselves to such a cause as
ours for the love of it, but in their own interests. I have put down
his somewhat off-hand treatment of me to his feeling of security in
being your Majesty's trusted messenger."
"So Monsieur De Froilette, ever so suspicious, has lived to become
weakly confiding."
"I have another reason to urge," the Frenchman went on. "I believe
Princess Maritza has been in Sturatzberg."
"Have you seen her?"
"No, but Francois says he did. He may have been mistaken, but the
delivery of her token goes to confirm Francois. Now, your Majesty, one
of Ellerey's companions may be a partisan of the Princess, and may
have changed the token. The fact that I have led the Princess, while
she has been in England, to believe that I have worked in her cause,
might induce her to think that the golden cross would be acceptable
to the brigands, that they would welcome the message it held."
"Had she trusted you in any degree, monsieur, she would have made her
presence known to you."
"She may have come to watch me, and even then she could hardly discover
my real object. I have worked in your service too secretly. Even Lord
Cloverton trusts me."
"I would Lord Cloverton were removed from Wallaria either by his
Government or by--"
"Ah, madam, death seldom strikes where we would have it. If heaven
were pleased to remove him we should have one obstacle the less in our
way; but many would still remain. Death would have to be busy to make
our enterprise sure."
"Lord Cloverton stands by most of those obstacles to give them
strength," answered the Queen, her hands tightening a little. "The
King would be pliant in my hands were this man not beside him to stiffen
him. Is there any other man in the world who would have dared to put
me to the test he did? I hate him."
"It is fortunate he has done so; he will not dare to repeat the
offence," said De Froilette.
"I am not sure of that."
"If he does, the bracelet is mislaid," said De Froilette. "The mere
fact that it has not been delivered will prove that you never sent it.
For the moment we are powerless to act, but another token will be sent
presently, another messenger found to take it. Have we not the assurance
of Russia that the moment the standard of revolt is raised she will
find plausible excuse to cross the frontier? Has not your Majesty
rather hoped to succeed without the help of Russia?"
"The possibility may have occurred to me," answered the Queen.
"These rebels who would help you to occupy the throne of Wallaria alone
would be difficult to rule without an army at your call to cow them
into submission."
"We are looking to the future; it is the present which concerns us,
monsieur."
"We can only wait and watch events," said De Froilette. "These deserters
declare that they rode out with Captain Ellerey in the belief that
they were upon the King's service. Your Majesty is not mentioned by
them. We are safe so far."
"Some one, monsieur, holds my token; until that is in my possession
again there is no safety."
"It is mislaid," said the Frenchman; "if that will not suffice, it has
been stolen; if that is not enough, pick out some servant you can spare
and accuse him of the theft. The sufferings of one man must not count
beside the safety of a cause involving many lives."
"You seem to forget that Captain Ellerey knows the truth," said the
Queen.
"You were alone when you told him of his mission. You have told the
King that your conversation related to the Countess Mavrodin--hold to
that story. Is the word of a traitor, struggling to shield himself,
to be taken against yours?"
"I act more readily than I lie, monsieur."
"Pardon, madam, a lie is a vulgar cowardice; we are dealing with secrets
of the State."
"I am woman enough to find small difference between them."
"And Queen enough to forget the woman when the sovereign must use
diplomacy," answered De Froilette. "Besides, we rush far out to meet
trouble. What can three or four men accomplish against an army of
mountaineers fighting in their own hills? By this time Captain Ellerey
lies food for the preying vultures. We are quite safe, your Majesty."
De Froilette left the palace unnoticed as he had come, and returned
quickly to the Altstrasse. Francois hastened to attend him.
"There is nothing to report, monsieur," he said, in answer to his
master's look of inquiry. "The city is quieting down. Is monsieur in
any danger?"
"Perhaps, Francois, but it does not trouble me. I have been in danger
before. Many channels of information are open to a timber merchant,
and those in authority find me useful."
"We can wait, monsieur, but those who are expecting us to speak the
word, will they wait?"
"I think so, Francois; still, you may have everything ready for a hasty
departure. And if by any chance circumstances should necessitate our
leaving separately, you must look for me in London at the old address."
Such instructions caused the servant no surprise. His master had usually
managed to steer successfully through the troubled waters he
encountered, but on many occasions such preparations for rapid flight
had been made.
"Did you call to inquire after Baron Petrescu, Francois?"
"Yes, monsieur; his wound is giving him increased trouble."
"I rejoice to hear it. We can well dispense with his crowing in
Sturatzberg just now. A walk through the city in an hour or so,
Francois, might be good for your health." The servant smiled, falling
in with his master's humor, and went out. The streets were quiet when
he traversed them an hour or two later. A few soldiers were in the
Konigplatz and at the top of the Bergenstrasse, but, except where some
entertainment was going forward, and carriages and servants were
congregated without, the city was unusually lifeless. Perhaps the
presence of the soldiers drove law-abiding citizens home early lest
they might come under suspicion, and the lawless were evidently not
inclined to run risks. Francois stood for a few moments outside the
Countess Mavrodin's watching the arrivals, among whom he recognized
many notabilities, including the British Ambassador; and then he went
for some distance down the Bergenstrasse before returning home. Had
he traversed this street farther he would probably have been convinced
that the exciting news of the day was already forgotten, for he would
hardly have heard the laughter and songs which came from the Toison
d'Or unless he had actually gone up the narrow court in which it stood.
The door was shut, but the light shone dully through the red blinds
which were drawn across the windows. They were like two huge eyes
bleared with strong drink, and as a late comer pushed open the door
at intervals and disappeared within, a watcher might have had the
sensation of seeing an ogre swallowing his victim. Another thing might
have struck him. There were many late arrivals, and they all came
singly, entering swiftly and letting the door swing quickly to behind
them. The tavern was, surely, fast becoming overcrowded, for no one
came out.
But there was much room in the Toison d'Or, and the chamber in which
Ellerey had waited for the token was thrown open to-night. It was
crowded with men eager to listen to the horsemen who had ridden into
Sturatzberg that day. They were the centre of attraction, and had long
ago become talkative and more than ordinarily boastful. They shouted
answers to every question, and were regaled with tankard after tankard
of liquor. They drank deep healths to the King, and swore to their
unswerving loyalty with many a strange oath. They sang snatches of
ribald songs at the bidding of any man who had the wherewithal to pay
for wine--snatches only, which became less coherent as the evening
advanced. They cursed the traitor Ellerey, and made jests upon Maritza,
"who was called 'Princess' by some fools and vagabonds."
"Down with her, and all who have a word for her!" cried one of them,
trying to rise to give vehemence to his words, but falling back helpless
into his seat.
"Curse her again, comrade," said a thin, morose-looking man in his
ear. "Don't go to sleep yet. Curse her again. We like to know the true
ring of your minds."
It was beyond the soldier's power to reply, but the other soldiers did
it for him, vying with one another in their language.
"That's right," said the thin man. "You are all agreed. She is a pest
in the land, this Princess, an evil to be trodden down, one to be
killed if opportunity occurs, and the fact of her being a woman shall
win her no mercy. You are all agreed on that?"
"No mercy!" shouted one soldier.
"Less because she's a woman," growled another.
"Down with her," said a third in a drunken whisper.
"One more drink round, landlord," said the morose man. "We'll drink
it standing. Those who cannot stand, let their comrades hold them up.
This is a loyal and sacred toast for the last. Not a man shall sit
down to it. Tankards round, landlord!"
The soldiers struggled to their feet obediently, but each of them had
to be held up on either side, and they laughed at their drunken
inability. Seizing a tankard, the thin man sprang upon a chair.
"See that none fail to honor my toast!" he cried. "Let it tell its
tale to Sturatzberg before the dawn. Here's to our Sovereign Lady,
Princess Maritza!"
Too drunk to understand the purport of the words, the soldiers raised
their tankards to drink, and then let them fall to the ground with a
clatter, the untasted liquor splashing upon the floor. Each man jerked
forward where he stood, and, when those who held him let him go, fell
down with a thud. A groan or two, a convulsive movement, and then they
lay still, while something mixed with the spilt liquor and dyed it to
a darker hue. The six men who had stood immediately behind them wiped
their keen long knives and sheathed them again in silence.
"Go quickly!" shouted the man, still standing on the chair. "See that
the Bergenstrasse is clear. They shall rest there to-night, and
Sturatzberg may find them there presently and read the lesson as it
will."
In the early hours of the morning, when the guests were leaving the
Countess Mavrodin's a man rushed past them into the hall.
"Is Lord Cloverton still here?"
The Ambassador came forward at once.
"What is it?"
"The men who returned to-day--the soldiers."
"What of them?"
"They have just been found lying side by side in the Bergenstrasse,
dead--murdered!"
CHAPTER XIX
IN DESPERATE STRAITS
Desmond Ellerey stood with his sword lowered and his head bowed. As
he spoke her name a flush came into his cheeks. His anger at Grigosie's
deceit had been great, stern, cold, and judicial--only in such a spirit
could he take vengeance on the lad; now it was shame which flamed into
his cheeks. He had drawn his sword against a woman--in another moment
the blade would have been dyed in her blood--the very thought of it
was horrible.
In Maritza's face there was no look of triumph. If for a moment it had
lightened her eyes, if the woman's power over the man defiantly
proclaimed itself as she tore open her shirt to reveal the truth, it
was gone more quickly, more completely, perhaps, than Ellerey's anger.
The Princess was the first to break the silence.
"You will not strike?" she said, closing the shirt again with hasty
fingers.
"Regrets are useless. I had hoped to succeed. I will tell you why when
you choose to listen to me. To-morrow you can deliver me to the
brigands; until then I am Grigosie again."
As she picked up her cap and drew it over her curls Ellerey looked up.
It was a relief to see the lad before him as he had always known him.
"And Grigosie talks folly," he said. "I would far sooner take his life
myself than deliver him to the tender mercies of the brigands." A cry
from Stefan, which was half an oath, startled them, and in an instant
Ellerey had sprung to the soldier's side. Anton at the same moment
seized his knife, and all three men were in the doorway slashing and
thrusting furiously at those without. For a moment there were only two
or three, who had approached silently, but their shouts upon being
discovered brought a crowd rushing to their assistance.
When Anton had deserted his post to come to Grigosie's help, the
temptation to secure an easy victory had been too great for those who
watched the plateau. Vasilici may have given no orders that the truce
should be thus flagrantly broken, but those who had seized the
opportunity knew well enough that success would win easy forgiveness.
As it had been at the gate guarding the zig-zag path, those in front,
wounded or dying, were thrown back upon their companions, impeding the
rush which must have effected an entrance. Perhaps there was still a
desire among most of them to let any comrade who would force himself
into the forefront of the attack. The prowess of the defenders had
already taught them a salutary lesson.
"Quick, Stefan; see that the door will close and fasten," whispered
Ellerey. "When it is ready, shout; give us a moment to thrust back the
foremost of them, and a moment to get in, and then we'll shut them
out, if we can."
Stefan made a sharp cut at the first man within reach of him, and then
slipped back into the tower. He shouted almost immediately, for Grigosie
was already at the door, and had seen that it was in working order.
At the shout Ellerey and Anton made a dash out as if in a last attempt
for freedom. A slash to right and left, a cringing back of those in
front gave them the opportunity and the time they wanted. In another
instant they were within the tower, the door was shut, and the great
bolts in it shot home.
"It's not likely we'll be using this way out for a while," said Ellerey,
"so we'll pile everything against it we can to strengthen it."
They worked with a will, and while the brigands beat at the door
without, they barricaded it within; and having heaped up against it
everything they could lay their hands on, they drove in some wooden
stakes at an angle to hold the obstruction in its place and resist the
pressure.
"That will stop them for a little while," said Ellerey.
No one answered him. As soon as the work was accomplished Grigosie
turned away, and Stefan, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back
of his hand, looked with unutterable fierceness at Anton.
"You--you----" And then he burst out with a mighty oath. "There's no
word in devil's or man's vocabulary to call you by. You're to thank
for this. Weren't you ordered to keep guard by the barrier yonder?"
"Let him be, Stefan," said Ellerey, laying his hand on the soldier's
arm. "He did rightly in leaving it. He came to protect his mistress."
Stefan glanced at Grigosie, whose back was toward him, and muttered
something deeply; oaths they may have been, but the words seemed to
lose themselves in his beard. Anton said not a word. He looked at
Ellerey, and it was a look of which it was difficult to read the
meaning. It was one of wonder rather than of gratitude. Perhaps he was
trying to understand the real character of this strange Englishman.
The brigands still continued to hammer at the door, but it showed no
sign of giving.
"It will hold for a time," said Ellerey, "but we must see what can be
done to interrupt their attentions as much as possible. A shot or two
from the chamber above might help them to become quieter. Come, Stefan,
and let us see what we can do."
In the chamber above there were narrow slits in the walls, and the top
of the zig-zag was commanded from this vantage place, but those
immediately below were out of danger. Some men were standing by the
broken-down barrier, and Stefan wanted to fire at them, but Ellerey
stopped him. Their ammunition was too valuable to throw away. A
cartridge presently might be worth much more to them than one man's
life just now.
"Those at the door below are the danger," said Ellerey.
"There's a good deal of loose stonework on the roof," said Stefan. "A
piece of that heaved over at intervals might give them something to
think about besides hammering at that door."
"They shall have a lesson at once," said Ellerey, climbing carefully
up the broken stairway which led to the roof. It has been said that
a turret had fallen in, breaking part of the stairs away, but the roof
could easily be reached. There were many fragments, some large, some
small, lying there, and one piece of considerable size Ellerey and
Stefan managed to get on to the wall of the parapet immediately over
the door. The manoeuvre was apparently unnoticed, for there came no
warning shout to those below.
"Over with it," said Ellerey.
It did its work effectually. There were groans and execrations, and
several bullets struck harmlessly about the stonework from whence this
message had been hurled, but the hammering at the door ceased, and the
besiegers retired to a safe distance.
"We must keep watch from here, Captain," said Stefan. "Help me to mount
another piece upon the wall. It can rest there until they get courageous
again and ask for it to be thrown upon them."
Ellerey did so, and, leaving Stefan there for the present, returned
to the basement of the tower.
Anton was standing in exactly the same place as when Ellerey had mounted
the steps, but the expression on his face had changed. It was quite
evident that in the interval some words had passed between him and
Grigosie, and that, whatever the subject of the conversation, Anton
disapproved of it. Grigosie was leaning against the wall counting the
cartridges he still had in his possession.
"We have stopped their hammering for a while," Ellerey said. "While
the loose stones on the roof last, we have another weapon of defence."
"Do I relieve Stefan?" asked Grigosie.
"No; Anton. Rest while you can. There will be little enough sleep for
any of us."
"And little enough food, too," said Grigosie, when Anton had cast
himself down in a corner.
"We are truly in a sad case, Princess."
"Grigosie, please; let me remain Grigosie. It will be easier for both
of us."
She crossed over to the steps which led to the upper chamber and sat
down.
"As you say, our position is hopeless," Grigosie went on. "In
Sturatzberg there are some who would strike a blow for Maritza, but
no one knows of Grigosie. It is a poor end to make, Captain. I have
had my moments of despair, but whenever I have thought of failure, I
have never pictured such a miserable failure as this. I was prepared
to face death and disaster, but if death came, I meant that it should
be glorious, that it should come in a fashion to set Europe ringing
with the news. It was a magnificent setting I had arranged for
myself--the going down of a sun in purple and red and gold."
"Even as it is we make a mountain legend of it," said Ellerey, with
a short laugh; "and legend lives long, longer than fame, often. You
have a fair chance of being remembered by the generations to come."
"I have brought you to this, so it is your privilege to laugh at me,"
she said.
"At least, we can be honest with each other now," said Ellerey. "At
the best we can only keep these wolves at bay for a few hours. Though
these old walls stand, we have little food, little ammunition. Death
has no very great terrors for me. I seem to have lived my life for the
express purpose of showing how a man can fail, and, having been unjustly
robbed of my honor, you succeed in robbing me of my self-respect by
making me lift my hand against you--a woman."
"I am sorry. Question me as you will."
"How could you hope for anything else but failure from such a mad
enterprise?" he asked.
"Captain Ellerey, do you remember what I said when we met on the downs
that day?"
"Every word."
"That I spoke truly you now know. You know how my claim stands, and
whether you love my cause or not, you must recognize the justice of
it. While I was in England, kept there to be out of the way, my friends
were working in Sturatzberg. My adherents, my well-wishers, are in
every grade of society there, but there was one man on whom I thoroughly
depended. He was in constant communication with me, and one of his
great schemes, a plan which he swore was ripening every day, was getting
the brigands to espouse my cause. To these hills have flocked all the
malcontents of the country. They are not robbers; they are political
outcasts many of them, and should welcome one who is by right their
ruler. So said this man, so he swore they were ready to do, but
constantly advised a little further delay. You cannot understand what
this waiting day after day, month after month, meant to me. Impatient
in heart, I was yet patient in action. I might still be quietly waiting
but for two things. First I learnt that to be put further out of the
way I was to visit England's colonies, a pleasure trip graciously
arranged for me by your Government; secondly, I was informed that the
man I trusted was scheming for his own ends more than for mine. It was
the parting of the ways, Captain Ellerey, and I had to choose. Another
stepped on board the vessel placed at my disposal in my stead, and
while she was taken to the colonies I came secretly to Sturatzberg.
There I have since lived, watching and waiting, in the house of the
woman who devised and helped me to carry out this plan."
"A woman!" Ellerey exclaimed.
"Countess Mavrodin, whose power is only the greater because no one has
any idea of its existence. My first work was to watch the man whom I
believed had been working for me. I quickly found that my interests
were not first in his consideration, but I learned also that he feared
his own schemes would fail should some unlucky chance bring me to
Sturatzberg. In this fear I saw my hope. Was this unnatural?"
"Is this man De Froilette?" asked Ellerey.
"He is the man. Unconscious of my presence in the city he continued
to work against me. Queen Elena had now become his dupe. The men in
the hills would help to set her alone upon the throne in Wallaria, and
the King once got rid of and the country in insurrection, De Froilette
would have sold it to Russia--more, would have aspired to the hand of
the Queen. Perhaps he loves her, perhaps he only loves the power he
would gain. His conspiracy was well laid, and he only wanted a man to
lead, to bear the brunt of the fight, to pay the penalty should failure
come, while he remained an uninterested citizen ready to be the first
to cry out against the rebellion if necessary. His choice fell upon
Desmond Ellerey."
Ellerey did not answer. This recital was making many things clear to
him.
"I knew something of this Captain," the Princess went on. "In my heart
I had long ago chosen him to lead my cause. I tested his courage on
the night I believed he had received the token. It was I, Captain
Ellerey, who ran with you along the deserted streets from the Altstrasse
that night; it was I who, when only numbers had succeeded in binding
you, came and looked into your eyes and was satisfied."
"Yet you didn't trust me enough to whisper your name," said Ellerey.
"At Court you came under the influence of Frina Mavrodin," she went
on hastily. "Perhaps, even with her, my cause took second place then.
You were stanch to the mission you had undertaken; she could not turn
you from that, although she influenced you in another way."
"What do you mean, Princess?"
"I have heard her speak of you, I have noted the light in her eyes;
do you think I could be deceived?"
"And do you think, Princess, that I have no memory? Since that morning
on the downs---"
"Her success did not help my cause, therefore what was it to me!" cried
Maritza, suddenly starting to her feet. "It was time for me to act.
You know the rest. There are spies everywhere, and I knew when the
token was given, how it was sent, and enclosed in a similar fashion
I had my own. De Froilette was afraid of me, therefore it was possible
that the brigands, or some of them, at least, were ready to take up
my cause. The wine that night made you sleep heavily, and I changed
the tokens. There is a loose brick in yonder corner, under it lies the
Queen's bracelet of medallions. So, Captain Ellerey, you have me in
your power. I brought you to this strait--the remedy is in your own
hands. Deliver me and the Queen's token into Vasilici's hands, and--who
knows, you may yet win place and power in Sturatzberg."
With an impatient gesture, Ellerey walked across the chamber, and as
he did so Anton raised his head.
"What, old watch-dog, so you think as basely of me as your mistress
does," he said, noticing the sudden movement.
Anton did not answer, but waited, resting on his elbow.
"No man loves being fooled, Princess," Ellerey went on, turning round
hastily, "and that I have been by the Queen, by De Froilette, and by
you, but of them all you only have insulted me. What contempt must you
have for me to think even of such a thing! Let me be as short and
brutal. If by the sacrifice of a dog to those wolves without I could
purchase my freedom, I would not buy it at the price. I will wake you
presently, Anton. You, at least, I can understand," and Ellerey mounted
the steps and disappeared into the upper chamber. He went no farther
for a time, but sat on some fallen stones to think, and his thoughts
were not of how to escape from his enemies, nor even how to hold them
at bay as long as possible, but of two women. One, a woman of the
world, for so she seemed, the centre of attraction, beautiful, witty,
frivolous, shimmering in silk and lace and jewels, jewels that were
no brighter than her eyes. He had not mentioned her among those who
had fooled him. She had not done so. She had been a pleasant companion,
a true comrade, perhaps; indeed, was ready to give him even more than
friendship. He might have loved her but for the other woman, whom he
saw again as in a vision, standing on the summit of the downs, talking
of empire and power, stirring his soul from its lethargy and bidding
him play the man. If she had stirred him then, how much more did she
make his pulses throb now, now that she had shared his dangers and
braved so much! Had she any memory such as his, of that breezy morning
long ago? And then the horror of the present overwhelmed him for a
time. He was powerless to help her.
"There is no future for us beyond tomorrow, or the day after," he
murmured. "Fate has strangely linked me with these two women, and made
sport of me. One might have loved me perchance, and will regret me;
the other I love, and she cares not, and I am likely to lay down my
life in a last endeavor to save her. Thank God for such a death! A man
could scarcely die a better one, although Stefan would hardly think
so," and he climbed to the roof to talk to the soldier there.
Princess Maritza stood for some time where Ellerey had left her. She
too, perhaps, forgot the present for a little while, and her thoughts
sped to Frina Mavrodin, Then she crossed the chamber quickly.
"Dumitru, are you asleep?"
"No, Princess," the man answered, starting up.
"Lie down again, Dumitru, and listen. If he comes, be asleep, as I
shall feign to be; but listen, and if you do not understand, question
me until you do."
"You distrust this Captain, Princess?"
"No; he may yet do good work for us."
For a long time she continued to speak in a whisper.
"It is madness," murmured the man.
"Wise men would call all I have done madness," she answered. "Listen,
Dumitru, there is more."
When she had finished there was silence.
"You would have me play the traitor," said the man, slowly.
"He is never a traitor who obeys the word of his sovereign," she
answered.
"But, Princess---"
"Am I your sovereign, Dumitru?"
"My beloved Princess, indeed."
"Then obey, Dumitru. Act promptly when I give the word. It shall be
soon. Perhaps to-night."
CHAPTER XX
TREACHERY OR SACRIFICE
All that night the stone, menacingly balanced on the wall above the
door, remained in its place. The brigands had no desire to court a
useless death, and they could afford to wait.
At dawn Ellerey ascended to the roof of the tower and found Anton
pacing its narrow limits to keep the warmth in his limbs.
"Nothing happened, Anton?"
"Nothing, Captain."
"You have helped your mistress into a desperate strait. How could you
hope for anything else but failure?"
"The Princess has told you, Captain?"
"Aye, man, but that was a woman's hope--a brave one if you will, but
there was no weighing of chances, no counting the cost in it. Was there
nothing more than this desperate hope at the back of your mind, no
sane man's reasoning to see the peril of it?"
"I am but a servant to obey," Anton answered. "Yet desperate ventures
have succeeded, and we had honesty on our side, Captain. Ours is the
just cause, and that counts for something."
"No wonder Princess Maritza's history is one of failure if her
counsellors have advised after this manner," said Ellerey.
"Are you certain she has failed, Captain?" Anton asked, turning quickly
toward him. The earnestness of the question, added to its seeming
absurdity, was startling. Could there be any doubt of the failure?
"Can your eyes penetrate beyond the spur of the hills yonder and see
an army marching to our rescue, or your ears catch the welcome sound
of tramping feet?" Ellerey said, pointing to the head of the pass.
"No, Captain."
"Is there any hope that a single man has set out from Sturatzberg to
help us?"
"I know of none," was the answer.
"And about us the plateau is full of men, and below us in the pass men
wait--enemies all. Outside this tower there is certain death for us,
and within there is food enough to satisfy one man for a day perhaps."
"I know, Captain, and yet the Princess may not have failed."
Ellerey did not answer. He leant against the parapet watching the day
grow brighter, and Anton resumed his quick pacing to and fro.
The men on the plateau and below in the pass were beginning to stir.
Sentries were changed. There was the murmur of voices, and presently
rising curls of faint blue smoke from fires cooking the morning meal.
There was sunlight on the higher slopes, and the song of birds in the
air, a welcome new day to myriads of creatures on the earth. To the
man looking out across the panorama of mountain peak and gorge
everything seemed a mockery. There was something cruel in gladdening
the eyes with the beauty of earth and sky when in a few short hours
those eyes must close forever. In the full possession of his life and
strength the man rebelled against his fate. It was the end of a rat
in a trap--ignoble, inglorious. That he would fall in striking a last
blow for a woman who cared naught for him had little attraction for
him just now. If he could save her, if his death could bring some good
thing to pass, it would be different.
Once or twice Anton stopped in his pacing backward and forward to look
steadily toward the head of the pass.
"Can you hear the tramping feet?" Ellerey asked when he stopped again.
"No, Captain."
"Can you see anything?"
"No, Captain; but it is too good a morning to accept failure."
"The sun doesn't put on mourning for every miserable dog that dies."
And then, as Anton resumed his walk without a word, Stefan's voice was
heard calling Ellerey to breakfast.
All the stones which had once served for seats and a table had been
piled up against the door, and the food was spread in a little circle
in the centre of the floor. It was Stefan's arrangement. He had refused
all help from the Princess, gruffly but firmly, although the gruffness
may have been something less than his usual manner and intended for
courtesy. Maritza stood with her hands behind her watching him, a smile
upon her lips.
"There's more table than breakfast, Captain," he said as Ellerey came
down; "but it's as well to have things orderly. There's little enough
to say grace for, but there's a lesson in the display, for all that.
It represents all that stands between us and starvation."
"With care, Stefan, we can live for--" And then Ellerey paused.
"Quite so, Captain. I've been trying to fix a limit myself and failed."
Ellerey looked at the scraps of food. At any other time he would have
spurned them as a meal of any sort; but in such a case as theirs was,
morsels of food bulk large with possibilities.
"To-day and perhaps to-morrow," he muttered.
"Yes, we'll be quite ready to welcome a change of diet by to-morrow
night," said Stefan, "and for my part I shouldn't quarrel with any
kind of food and drink which happened to arrive sooner. There's no
drawing from the mountain stream now and the flasks hold little."
"Much may happen in two days," said Maritza quietly.
"True. They may storm the tower successfully and put us beyond the
want of food before to-morrow night," Ellerey answered.
They ate their small portions in silence, and having eaten them remained
silent. Each one was conscious that there was something to be said,
yet each one waited for the other to say it.
"Captain." It was a relief to hear Stefan's voice, and Ellerey looked
up. "Captain, I make no claim to be much of a man at giving advice.
I've seldom been asked for it, and I've usually been in a large enough
company for it to be done without; but as we are, I take it each one
of us becomes of more importance than under ordinary circumstances."
Ellerey nodded.
"Well, then, my case is this: Years ago someone found me in the streets,
and for some reason known only to themselves decided that I should
live. I may have been hungry then--I don't remember--but I've never
been hungry since. I may have had to steal my victuals, but anyway
I've got them. It follows, therefore, that in fighting hunger I'm not
to be depended on. The weapons in use for such a fray are new to me,
and I don't know how to handle them. I'm afraid of the enemy."
"Well, Stefan?"
"Now death, I suppose, is as certain within the next few hours as
anything well can be, and I should like to meet the kind of death I
understand. Let us fix a time for hauling down the barricade, and then
make a dash for it. We'll get as far as the path, perhaps--there is
just a chance that some of us may get farther; but anyhow, we die in
the open."
"Have you thought of the Princess?" Ellerey asked.
"The circumstances don't make it easy to forget her," Stefan answered.
"Nor difficult to hate her," said Maritza.
"I took a kind of liking to Grigosie which somehow keeps me back from
hating her," Stefan went on, speaking to Ellerey and not looking at
the Princess. "I don't suppose, however, that she knows much more about
starvation than I do, and dying in the open may suit her case as well
as mine."
"But a woman, Stefan?"
"I've naught to do with women, Captain, and I see none in our company.
I only see two good comrades before me, one lacking a bit of muscle
it may be, but lacking no courage. He shall go between us, and Anton
shall cover our rear. There's such pleasure in the thought of striking
another blow that there's even a hope in it that we may win though."
"Stefan is right," Maritza said. "Let us make the attempt to-morrow."
"Why not to-day?" Stefan asked.
"The food is not all gone," she said; "besides, the day holds
possibilities. Let us wait a day, Captain."
"If the attempt is to be made, why not make it to-night? The darkness
will help us," said Ellerey.
"I prefer dying in the sunlight," said Stefan, "but so long as I die
in the open the stars will serve."
"In the night if you will, but not to-night," pleaded Maritza, laying
her hand on Ellerey's arm. "Let it be to-morrow night.
"Hope dies hard with you, Princess."
"I have a fancy to look upon another dawn," she returned. "Perhaps
to-morrow is the anniversary of some great event in my history, and
that is why I long to see it. I do not know, but in us all there is
a vein of superstition. I will go and relieve Anton."
Stefan watched her as she went up the stairs and disappeared into the
upper chamber.
"If anyone could make me change my opinion of women, she would," he
said; but Ellerey took no notice of the remark. He had commenced walking
up and down, deep in thought.
The day passed quietly. The brigands made no attempt to storm the
tower, and the huge stone above the doorway remained balanced on the
wall. But to those within the hours dragged heavily. Stefan spent his
time feeling the edge of his sword and seeing that the revolvers were
in good order and loaded. The occupation seemed to bring him nearer
to his emancipation. Ellerey walked from wall to wall, turning with
the regularity of a wild beast in a cage. A dozen times or more he
climbed to the roof, but hardly spoke a word to whoever happened to
be sentry there. Maritza lay down and appeared to sleep a good deal
when her duty on the roof was over, for she demanded to take her turn
with the rest; and Anton was restless and nervous. He lay down, but
he did not sleep; his eyes were constantly on the Princess.
"You know what we have decided?" said Ellerey to him during the day.
"Yes, Captain."
"You have no better plan?"
"No, Captain, so that I die with her I am content." The day drew slowly
to its ending. A camp-fire blazed upon the plateau, and two in the
pass below, around which the besiegers gathered. Still there were no
signs that an attack was meditated, and Ellerey watched the moving
figures for a long time and marked the position of the sentries. Such
knowledge might prove useful to-morrow night. And he determined which
direction to take should Providence so far favor them as to allow them
to gain the pass. It was a relief to find even this employment to
occupy his mind.
After the weary day the night was almost welcome. First Stefan, then
Ellerey, had watched through the early hours; now Anton paced the roof
restlessly while Maritza still slept. She was to go on duty at dawn,
so might she see the new day break as she wished. When Ellerey came
down, Stefan was sleeping heavily, and the Princess lay in her corner
with her arm under her head, a picture of graceful repose and rest.
The thought of the certain death that awaited her made Ellerey sick
almost, and with a shudder and a curse at his own impotence, he cast
himself down. For a time he tossed and turned restlessly this way and
that until, utterly wearied out, sleep fell upon him and held him fast,
smoothing the care from his face with pleasant dreams. Now he climbed
a stretch of sunny, wind-swept downs, the song of a lark and the sighing
sound of the long waving grass in his ears; now he heard the rustle
of silk beside him and a sweet low voice and pleasant laughter answered
him, a little foot stepped out bravely beside his own, and a little
hand rested confidently in his. There was music and laughter about
him, and then a sudden pause, and darkness, and out of it a sharp
crackling sound.
"What was that?"
Ellerey had started up only half awake. It was Stefan's sudden question
which thoroughly aroused him. The dawn had come and a dim light was
in the chamber, strangely dim and sombre after the light and movement
in his dream. He looked across at Maritza's corner and saw that it was
empty.
"We have slept soundly, Stefan," he said, springing to his feet. "The
Princess has gone on duty."
"It sounded like revolver shots to me," the soldier answered as he
followed Ellerey quickly to the roof. They stepped from the broken
stairs into the open, and then stood still, turning to look at each
other. There was no one there. The stone still rested on the wall, and
a rope which had been in the lower chamber lay sprawling over the roof,
one end of it hanging a few feet over the parapet. Both men ran to the
wall together. The plateau was empty, not a man remained there. No
sentry paced along the edge of it, no one stood there at the head of
the zig-zag path.
"Gone!" Ellerey exclaimed. It was not of the brigands he was thinking,
and Stefan knew it.
"By that rope. And Anton, too. Maybe we woke none too soon, Captain."
And then, as Ellerey turned questioning eyes to him, he added: "There's
the look of treachery in this."
Ellerey did not answer, but the question asked a moment later showed
the direction his thoughts were taking.
"Have they really gone?" he said, pointing to the plateau.
The soldier shook his head doubtfully and then suddenly leant forward,
his hand stretched out toward the pass before them. "Look yonder!"
The light was growing stronger every moment, and the moving figures
in the valley could be seen distinctly. There was more going forward
there than the awakening of a camp to a new day. The men were moving
in orderly groups, and there was no curling smoke from newly-lighted
fires. "They are on the march, Captain: and--look, is not the lad in
the midst of them?"
Ellerey's eyes might not have served him to pick out the slim figure,
but thus directed he had no doubt it was the Princess in the midst of
the men who marched quickly along the pass for a little way and then
turned aside and seemed to be swallowed up in the foot of the mountain
opposite.
"She could not have gone of her own accord, Stefan. They must have
found means to capture her."
"Anton may have helped them, perhaps."
"No; he was faithful--my life on that. Great heavens! She is in their
power, in Vasilici's power, and we stand here doing nothing."
"She may have gone willingly," said Stefan, as Ellerey rushed toward
the steps; "besides, what can we do?"
"Come or stay as you will!" Ellerey shouted as he disappeared.
"She went willingly," Stefan murmured, lingering behind for a moment
to look at the rope. "At least, she climbed down to them, not they up
to her. I never trusted Anton. If I hadn't taken a liking to Grigosie
I shouldn't trust the Princess. She's a woman."
Although only a few moments had elapsed, Ellerey was already throwing
down the barricade at the door in the lower chamber of the tower. Stefan
first looked at his weapons and then went across to the corner which
the Princess had occupied. Ellerey did not notice him, and he rose
from his knees there only as Ellerey had sufficiently thrown down the
stones to draw back the bolt and open the door wide enough to get out.
"One moment, Captain. I am with you, but be prepared for attack."
Ellerey, sword in one hand, revolver in the other, rushed out on to
the plateau, Stefan at his heels. No shout rang out, no man sprang
from his hiding-place among the ruins to bar their way. Even the valley
was empty. The last of the men who had encamped there had been swallowed
up by the mountain opposite.
"Captain, the token which the Princess said was hidden under the loose
brick yonder is gone."
The sword which Ellerey held ready to defend himself fell suddenly,
almost as it had done when he recognized that he had raised it against
a woman. Shame had sent the color to his cheeks then, and the color
came into his face now, anger bringing it there. Had she deceived from
first to last, played carelessly with all the finer feelings that were
in him, using them boldly and deliberately for her own end? These were
the thoughts which ran swiftly through his mind, and well might they
stir him to anger. Then came the reaction, suddenly, swiftly. No, she
could not have deceived him in this manner. There was some reason for
her going, something unforeseen had happened. After all they had come
through together, she could not be guilty of treachery.
"You found nothing else?" he asked hoarsely.
"Yes, this. A piece of stone lay upon it to keep it in its place close
to where she slept last night."
Ellerey seized the scrap of paper Stefan held out to him.
"I have brought you to this," he read, written faintly in pencil; "I
have thought of a plan to save you. At dawn I shall have gone, but so
will the brigands. You will be free to go to Sturatzberg, if you will,
or across the mountains northward to safety. I wonder which way you
will take? Mine is a desperate venture. If I fail, think of me
sometimes, for to me also there has often come the memory of that
breezy morning in England--Maritza."
"Look, Captain!" Stefan cried.
On the slope of the opposite hills, where the path rose over a spur,
a party of the marching brigands had come into view. The sunlight had
come, and it touched the men as they went. The distance was too great
to distinguish the slim figure in the midst, but one spot of white
showed clearly, quivering as the sunlight touched it. For a moment it
disappeared, then it fluttered again, and, as Ellerey looked, a crowd
of conflicting thoughts and emotions were in his brain. This was not
treachery, but sacrifice.
"A waving handkerchief, Captain; a signal of farewell," Stefan murmured
in a low gruff voice.
CHAPTER XXI
THE RESCUE
The white signal had gone, but Ellerey's eyes remained fixed upon the
moving black line until a fold in the hills hid it from sight. Something
seemed to have gone out of his life, suddenly as a candle is blown out
in a room. Then he turned and held out the paper to the soldier.
Stefan read the pencilled lines, turned the paper over meditatively,
and then read them again. The words seemed to burn their way into his
brain as they had burnt into Ellerey's, but the effect was somewhat
different.
"It is not like a woman, is it?" said Stefan.
"Very like, I think."
Stefan shook his head, as though he regretted his companion's ignorance.
"I took a liking to Grigosie," he said. "I saw the making of a grand
comrade in Grigosie. I can understand his doing this kind of thing,
but not a woman."
"The fact remains that she is a woman," said Ellerey.
"Wonderful," answered the soldier, as he handed back the paper. "It
would appear that the making of a man rests much in his clothes. I've
never known good come from a petticoat. Grigosie didn't wear one. Maybe
he recognized that he was a man, hidden by a cruel mistake in the shape
of a woman. Ah, Captain, women have had the spoiling of many a good
man I've drunk with and fought beside. I wish you a better fate than
theirs."
"This does not look like treachery," said Ellerey. It was evident
that he had not been attending to his companion, but had been
following out a train of thought of his own, and now put his decision
into words.
"We're standing here like two fools, at any rate," Stefan said. "We
ought to know the value of precaution by this time. What is to be done,
Captain? Are you for Sturatzberg, or for crossing the mountains
northward? It's a speedy making up our minds that is needed if we are
not to starve."
Ellerey was still following his own thoughts.
"What can her plan be?" he said. "What hope for her cause is there in
these hills? What mercy can she expect from Vasilici?"
"As Grigosie, none; as a woman, she may persuade these men to anything,"
Stefan answered. "Some power she has, or why did they not kill Grigosie
at once?"
"It is a terrible thought, Stefan, but may they not have reserved her
for Vasilici's vengeance? Did they not cry to us that we might go free
if the lad were given up? She heard that; she argued with us, you
remember. She has sacrificed herself for us."
"Well, Captain, shall we follow? Give me but leave to kill something
on the way and get on friendly terms with my stomach. I care not which
road we take, nor to what it leads us."
"We will follow her," said Ellerey.
"I'd never leave so good a comrade as Grigosie in a tight place,"
murmured Stefan. "Keep watch, Captain, while I gather up what we take
with us, and fill our flasks at Grigosie's fairy fountain yonder."
When Stefan returned, he found Ellerey standing on the edge of the
plateau looking down into the pass.
"What is it, Captain?" he called out as he came. "They have not kept
their promise, Stefan, that is all," Ellerey answered, pointing down
into the valley.
A savage oath burst from Stefan's lips. "They've played the lad false
in this, they'll play him false in all," and the tone in which he said
it revealed for a moment the real heart of the man hidden deep down
under this rough exterior.
From a hidden pathway at the foot of the hills the brigands came out
singly, fourscore of them at least. Each man looked up at the plateau
as he issued from the path, and the manner in which his eager steps
gave way at once to an easier and more slouching gait showed plainly
enough that the object of their coming had been attained, that no
further hurry was necessary. Some went to the places where the fires
had been, and kicked the ashes together; while others stacked their
arms, and sat down in twos and threes along the pass.
"Those were revolver shots that woke us, Captain," said Stefan
thoughtfully. "I expect Grigosie meant to rouse us as soon as we could
no longer prevent his going, and intended us to make the best of our
chances."
"And we've missed them," said Ellerey. "I fancy this is meant to be
our last adventure, Stefan."
"They'll come up the path presently, and the sooner the better," was
the answer. "A few of them shall finish their adventures along with
us; but we'll fight our last fight here, Captain, not in the tower
yonder."
"I have a sudden lust for life, Stefan, a longing to be face to face
with Vasilici once more," whispered Ellerey, as though he imagined the
men in the valley below might hear his secret. "If we wait until sundown
we might get through them in the darkness."
"Our original plan," Stefan answered. "I am with you, Captain, and if
you will watch those blackguards yonder, I'll turn my attention to a
bird that's hovering on the mountain above. Heaven grant he comes
within range, and an empty stomach does not put my eye out."
But the bird seemed to have no more intention of serving two hungry
men for food than the brigands meant to throw away their lives by an
attempt to win the plateau. They posted sentinels, one near the foot
of the zig-zag path, and one beyond the camp-fire toward the head of
the pass; the rest sat or stood at their ease between these two points,
and, unless they changed their plan at night, Ellerey perceived that,
if the sentry at the foot of the path were once silenced without being
able to give warning, the road to the way taken by the Princess and
her captors would be clear. He studied the shape of the hills and the
distance carefully, so that he might the more easily find that road,
and he noticed how long a time elapsed between the relief of the
sentries. If they attacked the man soon after his coming on duty, so
much the longer start would they obtain.
The day wore on, and he and Stefan finished the scraps of food which
were left, and thanked their good fortune that they had not the terrors
of thirst to face. Stefan still watched the mountains above for a bird,
and Ellerey planned the work of the night in every detail, explaining
some new point to the soldier every time he approached him. He had
paid little attention to the men in the valley below for some time,
when he was startled by a single shot, which rang out clearly in the
still air. For a moment he thought that Stefan had got his bird at
last, but the next instant the soldier was beside him, as startled as
he was. It was the sentry toward the head of the pass who had fired,
and he now came rushing toward his companions, who quickly seized their
weapons.
"Do I hear horses?" exclaimed Stefan excitedly. "By the father and
mother I never knew, there are horses galloping up the pass. There are
several of them, and they come quickly."
The brigands were evidently unprepared for such an attack, and did not
appear to have a capable leader among them. They had not come there
to fight, only to starve two men into surrender, and as they ran
together there was a general movement toward the path they had come.
Into the pass galloped some two dozen horsemen, who, at a sign from
their leader, drew rein upon seeing the brigands, and turned to shout
to others who had not yet come into view.
"An advance guard only," muttered Stefan.
The brigands evidently thought the same, and those who could not reach
the mountain path in time began a hasty retreat up the pass, firing
in a desultory manner as they went. They had no intention of attempting
to hold their position; safety was all they cared about. The horsemen
paused a moment to fire a volley, and then charged, but there was
little fighting. Two or three of the brigands were cut down, and one
horseman pitched forward suddenly as a bullet brought his horse to the
ground, but that was all. The brigands scrambled into the mountain
paths or up the mountain slope out of reach, and the leader of the
troop checked any pursuit of those who were fleeing rapidly up the
pass.
"Is this a rescue, or have we only changed our enemy?" said Ellerey.
"They are dismounting, and will come up the zig-zag way; we had better
meet them at the top of it," said Stefan.
Only one man came up to them.
"There is not much distinction to be had from routing such an enemy,
Captain Ellerey," he said. "Baron Petrescu!"
"At your service, although barely recovered from the effects of our
last meeting. Time pressed, so I did not wait for a doctor's certificate
of fitness."
"I thank you, but I hardly understand the situation, Baron," said
Ellerey.
"And that is not to be wondered at," was the answer; "but there will
be time to explain presently. Enough that we can shake hands over a
past quarrel for which I have paid the penalty, and know that we stand
together now."
Ellerey took his outstretched hand without a word.
"The Princess is with you?" Petrescu asked.
"She was until this morning."
"Killed!" cried the Baron.
"No; and yet I do not know that worse has not happened to her."
"While you explain, Captain, have I your leave to go down and make the
acquaintance of our new comrades?" said Stefan. "My stomach yearns
toward them, and their victuals and drink."
"I had forgotten," said the Baron hastily. "You can explain while we
eat and drink, Captain."
"A few moments will make no difference, Baron," said Ellerey, nodding
a consent to Stefan, who went down into the pass quickly. Then he went
on: "Do you know the Princess's plans, Baron?"
"I thought I did, but her sudden disappearance from Sturatzberg was
unexpected by me; still, I know enough of your mission to guess her
reason for joining you."
"Then, Baron, you know my position. It was not Princess Maritza's cause
which brought me to these hills. I am the victim of a conspiracy; but
at the same time, my only thought now is for the safety of the
Princess." The Baron nodded, and glanced swiftly at his companion.
"I understand, Captain."
Shortly Ellerey told him what had occurred since Princess Maritza had
joined him at the Toison d'Or, reserving nothing, not even his own
anger at the deceit which had been practised upon him.
"It was a desperate enterprise, doomed to failure from the beginning,"
he went on; "but as it was, only one course was open to me, to protect
the Princess to the best of my ability. Our food was gone, and we had
determined to make a dash for safety after dark to-night. That we did
not do so last night was by the Princess's desire. Her going must have
been in her mind then."
"She took the bracelet of medallions with her?" said Petrescu
thoughtfully.
"She told me it was in the tower yonder; it is not there now, so I
presume she took it."
"It may possibly secure her safety."
"Vasilici is a truculent villain," Ellerey answered. "He is not likely
to forget, or forgive, that shot which saved my life."
"Then you would follow her?"
"Stefan and I had decided to do so when those fellows stole back to
prevent us. We should have taken our chance after dark to-night."
Petrescu was thoughtful for a time.
"I hardly know what course to advise," he said presently. "We may not
be able to help her much in these hills, while in Sturatzberg we might
stir up the people in her cause."
"At least I have small power in the city," said Ellerey, with a smile.
"Those who trusted me very naturally think me a traitor, and I should
quickly be delivered over to enemies who would make short work of me."
"Yet you have powerful friends there."
"Indeed?"
"When the men who deserted you rode into the city with stories of your
treachery, Captain Ellerey's name suddenly became known to hundreds
who had never heard it before, and to each one of them he became a
friend, since his fate was linked with Princess Maritza's."
"Would such friendship protect me from my enemies?"
"At least many a hiding-place in the city would be open to you, and
some men might sooner give up their lives than betray you. There is
one proof of the truth of what I say. The men who deserted you all
died a violent death that night. They were found lying side by side
in the Bergenstrasse, in spite of the fact that the city was patrolled
by troops."
Ellerey looked at him inquiringly.
"No, Captain, I was not privy to their assassination, although I might
make a shrewd guess in what quarter the plot originated."
"Then Sturatzberg is in uproar?"
"No; it is strangely quiet, all things considered--that quiet which
presages a storm. The King would strike if he knew where to strike,
but he hardly knows who are his enemies."
"The sight of me would give him some idea where to aim a blow," said
Ellerey.
"Yes; and yet he might think twice before striking it. You have powerful
friends, one very powerful friend--one very powerful friend."
"You do not mean her Majesty?"
"I think you know I do not, Captain Ellerey," the Baron answered. "It
was the Countess Mavrodin who bid me come."
"I know that the cause of Princess Maritza is dear to her," said Ellerey
quietly.
"It is, and to me," said the Baron; "and yet we are probably not doing
the best for it by bringing two dozen horsemen into the hills. There
are no more behind. Our calling back as though there were was a
stratagem to strike greater terror into the brigands. No, Captain, the
Countess bid me come to rescue the Princess, and you, to aid your
escape out of Wallaria if need be, and her command is my law. Do we
understand each other, Captain Ellerey?"
They looked into each other's eyes for a moment.
"Do you understand why I forced a duel upon you?" Petrescu went on.
"I might tell you that I believed the Queen's token was in your
possession; it would be true; but that was not uppermost in my thoughts
when we stood face to face. Therefore, when I come to you at her
bidding, you may well trust me, since I have little to win by it."
"Only partly do I understand you, Baron."
"You Northmen, in spite of your many virtues, are slower to understand
than we Southerners are. Would you have me pluck the fruit for you as
well as show you the tree? Sturatzberg may be in open rebellion before
a week is out, and Frina Mavrodin may have to leave it. I will say no
more. Even my generosity has a limit."
Ellerey could not fail to understand his meaning.
"You had better read that, Baron," he said, handing him Maritza's
letter.
Petrescu took the scrap of paper and read it carefully.
"I met Maritza long ago in England," he said as Petrescu looked at
him. "She has remembered it, you see, and I--I came to Sturatzberg."
"Then the Countess is--"
"My friend, but Maritza---We waste precious time, Baron; I must follow
Maritza."
"I understand. Come and eat. We must lose no time."
It was arranged to leave some of the men in charge of the tower and
of the horses. They were to wait there six days, and if by that time
Baron Petrescu and his party had not returned, they were to go back
to Sturatzberg, taking a circuitous road to avoid the soldiers encamped
in the plain. Stefan was left in command of these men, since he had
had experience how the plateau could best be defended in case of need.
That the brigands would attack them, however, seemed unlikely, for
they had evidently fled in the belief that the men they had seen were
only an advance guard.
Night was falling when the party, well armed and full of excitement,
set out. There was a silver light behind the distant heights, herald
of the moon, so there was little need to wait for the dawn; besides,
one of the brigands had only been slightly wounded, and was pressed
into their service as guide. He loudly declared that he had no idea
where his chief was hiding, until the Baron held a revolver to his
head, and gave him half a minute to find whether his memory could not
be jogged sufficiently to serve him better. Before the thirty seconds
had passed, it had worked to good effect, and he set out with a man
on either side of him who had strict injunctions to see that he should
be the first to pay for any treachery which might happen.
"Some of the brigands cannot be far in front of us," said the Baron;
"and this fellow will know their likely haunt and give us warning in
time. If he forgets to do so, the sun will rise in vain to-morrow for
him."
They tramped silently through the night, often in single file, for the
way contracted often to the narrowest of defiles. That they had started
right Ellerey knew, and he was inclined to think that so far their
guide had not misled them. There seemed to be no other way by which
they could have come.
Just before dawn the brigand stopped; his memory had been excellently
aroused.
"We approach an open space where my people sometimes halt," he said.
Two men were sent forward to reconnoitre, but found the place empty,
and here they halted.
"How much farther to where Vasilici is?" asked Petrescu.
"We should reach the place by noon," the brigand answered; "but he may
have moved. My comrades will have told him of your coming to the pass."
"I dare say you will remember where he is likely to have removed to,"
the Baron returned, "since your miserable life depends upon it."
They were just preparing to continue their journey after a short rest
and hasty meal, when they heard the sound of falling footsteps coming
rapidly toward them. Only one man, and he was running with that easy,
measured stride which a runner falls into when his journey is likely
to be a long one. A moment later he ran into the midst of them.
"Stop!" cried several voices.
The man, with a glance to right and left of him for a way of escape,
stood still; but in an instant a knife gleamed in his hand, and in
that moment Ellerey recognized him.
"Anton!"
The man turned toward him and lowered the knife at once. "The Princess,
Anton, where is she?"
"Yonder; alive," Anton answered. "Give me a moment and some drink. I
have a message."
"For me?"
"For all, Captain, who love her."
CHAPTER XXII
IN VASILICI'S STRONGHOLD
Although Anton had declared to Ellerey that there was no certainty
that the Princess had failed, he did not believe in his own optimism.
True, death seemed certain in the tower, but it had been kept at bay
until now almost miraculously, it seemed to him, and a faith in Captain
Ellerey had grown up in him. The Princess's resolution to deliver
herself to the brigands appeared little short of madness to Anton; he
even considered whether he would not be acting in her best interests
by disclosing the plan to Ellerey; and he felt a traitor even when he
carried out her commands.
During his long hours of watching on the roof, it had been comparatively
easy to communicate with the brigands on the plateau. Having attracted
their attention, he dropped a paper, wrapped round a piece of stone,
telling them who the youth really was, that she was ready to go with
them to Vasilici, on condition that her companions were allowed to
leave the hills unmolested; that she had in her possession the token
which Vasilici expected and was, moreover, the bearer of a message
which those who were with her would not allow her to deliver. The
brigands accepted the terms, and although they broke faith and came
back to secure the two men in the tower if possible, they made no
attempt to injure the Princess when she climbed down the rope after
Anton and stood in the midst of them. She was not wrong in thinking
that she was far too valuable a prisoner not to be taken with all speed
to Vasilici. As the brigands surrounded her, Anton caught the rope,
and, with a quick, dexterous turn of his arm, sent the end of it flying
upward to the roof.
"You may trust us," said one man, trying to keep the anger out of his
voice.
"I do," Maritza answered; "but nothing was said about the rope, and
a small matter may make a difference in such a treaty as ours."
As they descended the zig-zag path, Maritza fired three times into the
air, causing the men near her to start back.
"They are sleeping," she said, nodding toward the tower. "That is to
wake them, and let them know of the treaty."
"I must ask you for that weapon," said the leader, but in spite of
himself he spoke with a certain deference. "It is a dangerous plaything
in your hands."
"It is empty and of no further use to me," she answered, with a smile,
handing him the revolver. "Keep it, my friend. It has my initials
engraved on it, and may serve you as a boast some day when you entertain
your fellows with tales of your adventures."
Having arranged which men should gradually fall out in twos and threes
and presently return to the pass, the brigands made haste to march,
and they did not interfere when Maritza waved her handkerchief to the
two solitary figures standing on the plateau. It would show that the
Princess was safe and allay any suspicions they might have; they would
probably not hurry their departure, and were likely to fall into the
hands of the men returning to the pass. Nor did they make any objection
to Anton walking beside the Princess; there was so evidently no idea
of attempting to escape. "How long a march have we before reaching
Vasilici?" Maritza asked, turning to a man who walked near her.
"We shall reach him to-night," was the answer, "unless we make a long
halt on the way."
The man did not look at her as he spoke. He had been specially told
off to keep near her and to listen should she talk secretly with her
fellow-prisoner. His companions immediately near straggled a little
as they marched, and presently he drew nearer to Maritza, and she
noticed it.
"Take no heed of me and do not look at me," he said. "Have you a hope
of winning over Vasilici?"
"I have a message for him."
"A doubtful protection," was the answer.
"Perhaps so, but I have friends in his company."
"You were ill-advised to make this journey; I have warned you." And
still keeping his even pace, the man moved farther from her side.
This whispered conversation set many thoughts surging through Maritza's
brain--not new thoughts exactly, for there were few contingencies she
had not provided for when she determined to place herself in the hands
of the brigands, but thoughts which began to cut deeper, as it were,
into a channel already made. This man's action proved that he was not
altogether indifferent to her, and it was hardly likely that he was
the only one among Vasilici's followers who might be ready to speak
a word for her, perhaps even strike a blow for her, could she stir
them sufficiently. Brigandage was not the natural calling of many who
had flocked to Vasilici's standard, nor were they likely to rest
contented with Vasilici's leadership for long. Were they not even now
waiting for a message from the Queen, to whom in the future they would
look for favor?
At noon, when a halt was called, this same man saw that Maritza had
sufficient to eat, and replaced the flask of wine given her by another,
saying that it was better and that she would want all her strength.
He took no notice of Anton, who, by the Princess's instructions, spoke
to no one unless he were spoken to. She wanted to draw as little
attention to him as possible, and sought by various means to show that
he was a servant only, and not a very highly valued one. She felt that
his insignificance might render him trebly valuable under certain
conditions. So utterly absorbed was she by her thoughts that the length
of the march did not greatly fatigue her. She failed to recognize that
the way was often rough and difficult, and that the pace of the whole
band had slackened somewhat as the day advanced.
It was late in the afternoon when they entered a narrow defile between
two precipitous mountain walls, which looked as though some huge giant
had cut out one slice from the top to the bottom of the mountain.
Perhaps through many ages a rapid narrow torrent had rushed here cutting
slowly but surely deeper. There was no water now, but the way was paved
with loose pebbles, which made progress slow and tiring. It was not
a way one would choose, and since near the entrance there were other
paths more inviting, Maritza concluded that they were nearing the end
of the journey. For a moment on entering the defile her heart sank
within her. It was like leaving the open world and the sunlight to
creep into the dark unknowable, where some horrible fate might await
her. Would she ever step freely into the open light of day again? Her
thoughts sped backward to the tower standing above the pass and to the
man she had left there. Which road had he taken--the way to Sturatzberg,
or the path across the mountains northward which led to safety? If to
Sturatzberg, why had he gone there? Her hands clenched a little as an
answer came quickly to her question, but she murmured to herself: "What
is it to me? I am Maritza, the lawful ruler of this land. What is
anything to me but the memory of my fathers and the battle for my
rights?" The thought brought back her courage, and made her calm.
They had not proceeded far along the narrow defile before they were
challenged by a sentry posted upon a narrow pathway which seemed to
have been scooped out of the solid rock above the rough road they were
traversing. The challenge was a mere form, for he could not fail to
recognize many of his companions, but his gun was not lowered until
the pass-word had been shouted back. This was evidently the brigand's
stronghold, and it was well guarded. In a retreat so defended by nature,
the brigands could defy any army sent against them, and for the first
time Maritza understood why no effort had been successful in dislodging
them.
At the end of the defile they were challenged again, this time by a
small body of men on guard there, and having answered and been allowed
to pass, they emerged into a large circular hollow in the hills. On
every side it was enclosed by precipitous walls in which, here and
there, were narrow openings, evidently paths similar to the one they
had travelled. The hollow was covered with tents and wooden huts, the
latter put together with a solidity which showed that they were
permanent structures, and suggested that whatever enterprise the
brigands entered upon, this stronghold was never left undefended.
The party was evidently expected. The news that Princess Maritza had
determined to place herself in his hands had been quickly carried to
Vasilici, and with a few of his leading men he was seated in front of
a long wooden shed when his captive was brought into the hollow. His
arm was still in a sling, and his expression was morose and fierce,
although a grin of satisfaction lightened his face for a moment when
he saw the trim, youthful figure and knew that the cause of his bandaged
arm was now in his power. Perhaps in the back of his mind he had already
begun to devise fitting tortures for his enemy. During the long march
Maritza had pictured this moment, and had determined how to act; but
the real scene was rather different from the picture she had imagined.
As the men who had brought her fell back, leaving her alone, with Anton
a few paces behind her, she glanced round at the crowd and said:
"Which among you is Vasilici?"
His appearance sufficiently marked him out from his companions, but
Maritza was quick to perceive that there was a half-concealed smile
on the faces of some of the men near him when she pretended not to
recognize him. Perhaps Vasilici saw the smile, too, for, although his
face darkened, he answered the question without any sudden outburst
of anger.
"Greeting," said Maritza. "I would be seated while I talk. The journey
which I have undertaken into these hills has been a hurried one over
a rough road; and, besides, it is not usual for a sovereign to stand
in the presence of her subjects."
Vasilici burst into a loud laugh, which found an echo among many of
his followers, but not all. Even while he laughed, and before he could
say a word to prevent it, one man had stepped forward and placed a
rough stool beside Maritza.
"Carry it nearer, Anton; that will do." And then she seated herself,
Anton standing behind her.
"Thus we can talk more easily," she said after a pause. "Are all your
leading men here, Vasilici--all those who form your council? for what
I have to say concerns all."
"In these hills my will is law," was the answer.
"So long as you please your followers, or the majority of them; I
understand," Maritza said quickly. "Absolute power lies in the pleasure,
or the fear, of the majority."
"Not here," said the chief, raising his voice angrily. "I alone am the
law."
"Then indeed are you great among the kings of the earth."
Her question had forced him to exalt himself, and this was not pleasing
to all those who stood about him.
"What you have to say, say quickly," Vasilici went on. "The death of
good comrades lies at your door, and punishment is swift here. We move
too rapidly to burden ourselves with prisoners."
"I will be brief," said Maritza. "For a long time you have been
intriguing with Queen Elena, through a servant of hers, one Jules de
Froilette. By him you have been told to expect a certain token from
her Majesty, upon the receipt of which you were to sweep down upon
Sturatzberg, join yourselves with those who espoused her cause in the
city, and set her alone upon the throne of Wallaria. That token was
brought to you by Captain Ellerey."
"It is a lie," Vasilici burst out, "and you know it. He delivered the
golden cross, the sign of your house, if indeed you be the Princess
Maritza as you say."
"Captain Ellerey brought the Queen's token," Maritza went on quietly,
as though there had been no interruption, "and delivered it as he
supposed. He was as astonished to see the golden cross as you were."
"Then you--"
"Yes, I changed them. There is the proof." And she tossed the sealed
box carelessly into Vasilici's hands. He cut it open quickly, while
dead silence reigned around him, and then held up the bracelet of
medallions that everyone might see.
"By this message you accuse yourself," cried the brigand, standing at
his full height. "Now, hear your punishment."
"Wait!" said Maritza; "there is more to tell."
Absolute as he had proclaimed himself to be, Vasilici nevertheless
glanced at those about him and, seeing that they were inclined to hear
all the Princess had to say, waved his hand for her to continue. The
fact that the chief was not quite so strong as he said was not lost
on Maritza.
"It is true that I changed the token," she went on, not addressing
herself especially to Vasilici, "and if I had a hope that there might
be men loyal to me in these hills, for so this miserable scoundrel De
Froilette has told me, that was not my only reason for changing it.
De Froilette never told you that there was a time when he espoused my
cause; he has never said how he would come fawning to me to-morrow
were it in his own interests to do so; he has never explained what is
to follow your devotion to the Queen. Rewards, place, honor, he has
promised them all; yet on the frontier at this moment lies a Russian
army only waiting this De Froilette's word to enter Wallaria and secure
every benefit which you have pledged yourselves to fight for."
"The proof! The proof!" shouted many voices.
"What proof can I carry of such a scheme? Send for De Froilette on
some pretext or other and question him, or send to the frontier and
spy upon the army that waits there. You have the Queen's token; I have
delivered it. Go out and meet the King's army, which lies ready to
contest your way to Sturatzberg, if you will, but remember this: if
you win your way to the city, if you succeed in overthrowing the present
Government and setting Queen Elena alone upon the throne, you will not
have advanced the cause of your country one step. You will be forgotten
as soon as your work is done, and be under the firm hand of the
Muscovite. You will have fought your enemies' battle for them and sold
yourselves into slavery. You will have played into the hands of this
Frenchman, De Froilette, who is serving his own ends only, who cares
nothing for Wallaria, whose reward lies ready for payment in Russian
coffers, who is as false to Queen Elena and to you as he has been to
me."
There was a low murmur among the eager crowd as Maritza stopped
abruptly, and those sitting and standing near Vasilici turned to one
another and whispered together. Whatever hopes lay in the hearts of
these men, selfish hopes for the most part, perhaps, yet with some
patriotism in them, too, it was evident that the accusation against
De Froilette was not entirely a surprise. There were men there who had
never trusted him, and Maritza recognized that her words were not
without weight. While they still whispered, and even grew quarrelsome
over their opinions, she rose from her seat.
"For a long time I have been in Sturatzberg watching events," she said,
raising her voice a little and obtaining instant attention. "There are
many there who love my cause, some because of my right, some because
they have learnt that Wallaria is merely the plaything of the nations.
Are there not here about me many who love their country, who have fled
from tyranny to the freedom of these hills, not to defy just laws, but
to withstand oppression? I tell them that Queen Elena's promises are
valueless. I tell them that every move the Queen has made is known in
Sturatzberg, discounted and guarded against by the Ministers of foreign
powers who rule the King. I tell them that the token of the bracelet
of medallions has no power to help them to freedom, that from first
to last they have been deceived. I might point to the golden cross and
tell them that it is the sign of this country's salvation; but Vasilici,
who stands for chief among you, has spurned it. I might stand here and
cry to you that he is no chief worthy to lead an army of patriots,
that there is another now among you whose right it is to lead, who has
the power to win success; but men who bow to windy words are no
countrymen of mine, and I scorn to tempt them to such false loyalty.
Judge for yourselves and choose. There stands Vasilici, a brigand,
King of these hills; and here stand I, Maritza, Princess, daughter of
Wallarian kings, come among you of her own free will. I promise you
not success, that knowledge is in the mind of God only; but this I do
promise: I will lead you toward success, and, if we fail, die fighting
in the midst of you. Choose, therefore, Maritza or Vasilici."
The stroke was a bold one. Brave men could understand the daring of
flinging down such a challenge to a man like Vasilici, here in his own
stronghold. It appealed in a manner that nothing else she could have
done would have appealed, and she enhanced the force of her words by
her apparent indifference as to what their decision might be. She
resumed her seat as abruptly as she had risen from it, and beckoned
Anton to approach her.
"Princess!" There was reverence in his tone as he bowed before her.
"Listen," she said quickly. "You marked well the way we came?"
"Yes, Princess."
"There is division among them, and for the present we are safe, perhaps,
but the issue is doubtful. If they decide to hold me prisoner for a
while, if their decision be anything short of making me their leader,
take the first opportunity to escape back to Sturatzberg as swiftly
as you can, and tell them what has happened in the hills. Wherever
there is a man who loves me, tell him the story, tell Countess Mavrodin,
tell Captain Ellerey if he be in the city. Give me but a score of men
to shout my cause, and there are many here who will gladly add their
voices to such an acclamation. Tell them that."
No shout, not a murmur, even, had followed Maritza's challenge. Those
who hated her most were astonished into silence. Vasilici's face grew
a shade more savage, but he was quick to note that the Princess had
not appealed altogether in vain. He did not turn to those about him
at once and mock her pretensions. It was not the moment to assert an
authority which he well knew some of those with him in the hills
resented. For a time he made no effort to suppress the whisperings on
all sides; he had to determine on some counter-stroke. Suddenly he
turned toward Maritza--
"Princess," he said, "I love a courageous foe. All here shall be your
judges, not I."
"I am content," she answered.
At a sign from the chief, food and wine were brought to her, while the
brigands gathered together and listened eagerly to this counsel and
to that. There were many who, like Vasilici, had taken to the hills
merely to swoop down upon the defenceless for pillage and for ransom,
who cared nothing who might sit upon the throne in Sturatzberg, and
among these there was a certain resentment that latterly there had
come a change into the councils, that the organization was in danger
of growing into a political one. What rewards in the city could
compensate for the loss of their freedom in the hills? This faction
was strong, but hardly strong enough to make it possible for Vasilici
to break with his other followers. The chief knew it was the time for
plausible arguments rather than domineering demands, and these he well
knew how to use. He listened to the counsel of others, and he advised,
and gradually there arose a large majority in the camp to whose decision
the minority bowed because their opinions were subtly provided for.
There was a smile upon Vasilici's face as he stood forward to speak
from which Maritza argued no good.
"Princess, I am but the mouthpiece, not the judge," he said. "It is
true that there are many political refugees among us to whom you appeal
personally, even if your cause does not; but chiefly we are not
political. We are against all kings and the laws which make men either
rich or poor, and we have set up in these hills a kingdom of our own
of which I am at present the head. We take our living where we find
it. Such a leader as you would make should draw men to your cause; but
are they drawn? Is there any real force in Sturatzberg to rise and
fight at your bidding? We doubt it. We are not patriotic enough to
throw our lives away upon a dream. Yet you may be right, and the time
may come when the golden cross will send us to fight your battles; but
that time is not yet. We want more certainty before we espouse so
desperate a venture. Those friends you have in the city yonder should,
however, be strong enough to insure your safety if their loyalty is
as you say, and for them the time has come to prove that loyalty. For
us, we have to live. It has been decided, therefore, to hold you to
ransom. We shall despatch messengers to the troops which lie in the
plain, and for a price we shall deliver you to them. I doubt not you
will receive as great courtesy from them as from us."
Maritza did not answer.
"You are content, Princess?" said Vasilici.
"I am disappointed," she returned. "I perceive that they were only the
cowards who fled from Sturatzberg to these hills; the brave hearts
remain in the city."
"We move to-night," said Vasilici, turning to those about him. "Let
the messengers start at once."
"Remember, Anton: to Sturatzberg with all the speed you may. Now leave
me alone," whispered Maritza.
To the good offices of the man who had shown kindness to the Princess,
Anton owed his ability to slip past the guards as soon as night had
fallen, and he had travelled a long way when he fell in with Ellerey
and Baron Petrescu's party at dawn. He told his tale quickly.
"Only in Sturatzberg can we help her," Anton declared. "It is useless
going forward. She will certainly be delivered to the soldiers."
His counsel prevailed, and they returned as quickly as possible to the
castle in the hills, taking the brigand who had been their guide with
them. They could not let him go and divulge their plans. Before another
dawn came they were riding as swiftly as the rough way would permit
in the direction of Sturatzberg.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE TEMPTATION OF FRINA MAVRODIN
Lord Cloverton pushed his chair back from the table, and with his arms
folded gazed abstractedly at the ceiling. Captain Ward sat opposite
to him, turning over a pile of papers, noting their contents, and
placing them in order.
"De Froilette was right after all, Ward. Princess Maritza has been in
Sturatzberg."
"And will be again almost immediately, now that the brigands have
delivered her up. She is likely to be brought into the city to-morrow,
I understand."
"Yes, and lodged in the palace under safe keeping, and then--then,
Ward?"
"She must bear the consequences of her folly," Ward answered. "Has
England any part to play in whatever treatment she may receive?"
"No, I think not. One may pity the woman, but even a woman must pay
the penalty of her actions. Still the death or banishment of the
Princess may do little to relieve the situation; indeed, may only
intensify it. There have been other influences at work, and we are as
ignorant of them as ever we were."
"I see you have some scheme maturing, my lord," Ward said with a smile.
"It might mature at once did I know what had become of Captain Ellerey.
Would he seize the opportunity and escape out of Wallaria, think you?"
"Not if he thought anyone who had a right to his help needed it. He
is the kind of man who would return, no matter what the danger might
be," answered Ward.
"I believe some friendship of the sort does bind him to Sturatzberg,"
said Lord Cloverton, "and I should be happier if he were in Princess
Maritza's company. I should know how to act then."
The door opened and a servant brought in a card.
"Ah, now we may hear news," said the Ambassador. "De Froilette, the
timber merchant. Show him in. You need not go, Ward."
De Froilette came in quickly and was cordially greeted by the Minister.
"My secretary, Captain Ward; you may safely speak before him, monsieur."
"It is no secret information I have to give," said De Froilette. "I
came rather impudently to give myself the pleasure of laughing at your
lordship."
"You have seen fit to praise me so often, monsieur, that I can no doubt
bear your ridicule with the same equanimity as I accepted your praise."
"A witty retort to my pleasantry, my lord. You did not believe me when
I said Princess Maritza was in Sturatzberg. You see I was right."
"Monsieur, I grant your information was valuable; my policy might have
suffered considerably by my disbelief. I have learnt a lesson and wish
to profit by it. Can you tell me where Captain Ellerey is?"
"No, my lord; but I can tell you where to watch for him."
"You will help me by doing so," said Cloverton.
"In Sturatzberg, my lord," said De Froilette.
"Do you imagine he will return to the very centre of his danger? I am
inclined to think he has crossed the hills and taken the quickest way
out of Wallaria."
"You do not know the man, and you forget he is an Englishman," said
De Froilette. "They are desperate fellows, these English adventurers.
They have no eyes for danger, and are lacking that diplomacy which
makes men feel that it is honorable to retreat sometimes. He is one
of those who love their sword and would fain die with their boots on.
Besides, he is in love."
"Ah, now you interest me, monsieur," Cloverton exclaimed. "I have been
wondering whether he had not some weak spot."
"I heard him once speak of Princess Maritza," De Froilette went on.
"He had met her in England; and I read the story behind his careless
words. Here in Sturatzberg the Princess must have seen him, and for
love of her he espoused her cause. She is being brought to the city,
and he will surely follow her. Seize him, my lord, and you nip the
rebellion in the bud."
"You think so," said Cloverton reflectively.
"I am certain of it," was the answer. "I am even bold enough to give
advice. The King can afford to treat the Princess leniently. She has
no strong personality to guide and counsel her; alone she is no danger,
or the brigands would not have given her up. But this mad Englishman
has the power to keep her cause alive. The King cannot afford to pardon
him. Kill him, my lord, as quickly as you can. With her lover dead,
the Princess will have no heart to plot."
"I think you are right, monsieur. I shall advise the King."
"And I will do my part in watching for Ellerey," said De Froilette.
"You will be serving the State, monsieur," said the Ambassador; "but
are there no others who are dangerous?"
The Frenchman was thoughtful for a moment.
"No, I think not," he answered. "There are some who talk loudly in the
back streets, but their talk serves them instead of fighting, and does
no harm."
"Quite so, monsieur; but I was not thinking of them," Lord Cloverton
returned. "There is one curious feature in the situation. The brigands,
it is true, have played into the hands of the State, but there seems
little doubt that they were waiting for a message from Sturatzberg and
were prepared to act upon it. They did not receive the message they
expected, and so became revengeful. Now what message did they expect,
and from whom was it to come?"
De Froilette shrugged his shoulders.
"Perhaps Captain Ellerey betrayed his trust and delivered the wrong
message," suggested the Ambassador.
De Froilette looked at him in astonishment.
"By doing so he may have unconsciously served the State," Lord Cloverton
continued, "and perhaps--of course, monsieur, one has to guess rather
wildly sometimes--perhaps balked the intentions of those Russian troops
which, for no apparent reason, have been gathering on the frontier."
Then De Froilette laughed.
"You are prepared for all emergencies, my lord; it is wonderful, your
foresight; but I conceive that you are making something out of nothing.
The diplomatic brain is so fertile it surpasses me."
"It is a soil which so many persons throw seed into, monsieur," was
the answer. "Those who deal in timber are not the only merchants who
scent danger to their interests in the political ferment of the times.
But your advice is good; I shall advise the King. When Captain Ellerey
comes he may tell us more." And the Ambassador rose, putting an end
to the interview.
When the door had closed upon the Frenchman he resumed his seat and
smiled benignantly. The smile invited comment from his companion.
"Personal enmity as regards Ellerey," said Ward, "and astonishment at
your accurate knowledge."
The Ambassador nodded.
"He should be watched," said Ward.
"That is no longer necessary," was the quick answer. "Whatever power
he may have had is gone. He is chiefly concerned about his own skin
nowadays, and it would not surprise me to hear that business had
suddenly called him away from Sturatzberg. Still, I thank him for
giving me an idea. I shall see the King."
De Froilette went quickly back to the Altstrasse, and it would appear
that Captain Ward's estimate of his attitude was near the truth. He
sent for Francois at once.
"The net is being drawn in, Francois," he said.
"Are we within it?"
"We shall easily escape," was the answer. "Is everything ready to depart
at a moment's notice?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Good. You carry a revolver, Francois?"
The man showed it to him.