The Zenda Vendetta

6

It was almost dawn when Lucas left the palace, and the city was beginning to come awake with a sleep languor. Wagons filled with produce were pulled by toil-weary horses toward the square; here and there a light burned inside a shop as someone made ready to open up for business. No one paid Lucas any mind as he walked through the streets. It was still dark, but if anyone came close enough to see his blackened face, no one remarked upon it.

Though the capital of Ruritania, Strelsau was not a large city, even by the standard of its time. With the exception of a few large estates within the old quarter, houses that held their own with lawns and gardens as defenses against the encroaching buildings, Strelsau was a tightly packed city. Buildings stood close together, sometimes separated by narrow alleyways no more than shoulder width; the streets were cobbled; the architecture a mad jumble of many different styles. The Grand Boulevard of Strelsau would have been just another back street in most other large cities and some of the back streets were no more than hard-packed earth. But for all that Strelsau gave forth the flavor of some medieval city, it was very clean. Despite its lack of character, it had a sort of Prussian orderliness and, in that, perhaps it found what character it had. Bedraggled paupers walked side by side with well-dressed citizens and neither gave the other a wide berth. The sense of community and congruence was obvious; each had a place and each had a function to perform and that was as it should be. Forrester’s phrase, “vestpocket kingdom,” seemed particularly apropos. Strelsau was warm and cozy. A minicity in a tiny nation with a homey sort of pageantry and spirit all its own. Nowhere was there any sense of urgency. It was hard to believe that here there were two feuding factions, one Elphberg Black, one Elphberg Red, each passionate in support of its chosen champion. It was harder still to believe that here there was a plot afoot to murder the true king and seize the throne. Things like that simply didn’t happen in such a cuckoo clock of a town, where doors should open and tiny figures should march out and dance as some folk tune was played to mark the hour. Further, it was beyond any credulity that this romantic little diorama could be the scene of an historical adjustment-surely, nothing could possibly be wrong here-and a focal point of temporal continuity. It seemed to make about as much sense as expecting a volcano to burst up through the cobblestones, showering everything with burning rock and ash and burying everyone under molten lava. Yet, in a sense, the earth did churn away beneath the streets, though only Lucas seemed to feel the heat that came up from the stones beneath him.

That secret passageway was a godsend. One of Lucas’s biggest worries had been how to keep in touch with Finn while he was in the palace. He had given Finn one of the communicator sets that Derringer had issued them, but it helped knowing that he could actually get in and out of there unobserved, without having to put up with the strain of ducking the palace guard and climbing the walls.

The communicators were designed in such a manner that they could be worn all the time. They were made up of two miniaturized components, a tiny throat mike that could be taped in place over the larynx with a flesh-colored adhesive strip or even secured beneath a small graft of plastiskin, and a small receiver worn inside the ear. Like the pickup, the receiver could be stuck with adhesive within the ear itself, positioned by a pair of tiny tweezers or it, too, could be grafted in by plastiskin. The latter method would involve a minor operation to remove both devices, but it offered maximum adhesion and concealment. With the plastiskin adhesion method, only the closest of inspections by someone knowing what to look for would result in the communicator apparatus’s being detected. The equipment was not military ordnance, but the result of trickle-down technology from the law-enforcement field. The average soldier would have no use for such devices, but to a commando team out on an adjustment, they were extremely helpful. Lucas had given Derringer’s set to Finn and they had each taken turns putting them in place for the other with strips of plastiskin from a first aid kit. Now, they could simply forget about them. There was, however, one distinct disadvantage to the communicators, and it was for this reason that they seldom used them. Aside from the fact that they were relatively short-range, it was possible for their frequency to be picked up. If the Timekeepers had similar units or compatible equipment, they might be able to home in on their transmissions and monitor their communications. It was a risk Lucas felt prepared to take, since it would reduce Finn’s vulnerability somewhat. They would merely have to operate on the assumption that they might be overheard and keep their transmissions short, infrequent, and worded with that possibility taken into consideration.

The sky was becoming gray as Lucas turned into the side street that led to the rooming house where Derringer had set up his base of operations. He had no idea what he would find there. He hoped he would find Andre. He felt reasonably sure he would. If they were very, very lucky, Derringer’s security system had protected the chronoplate and they might even have a prisoner from the opposing camp. However, he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Luck always had a way of being absent when you needed it quite badly.

He wanted nothing in the world quite so much as a few hours’ sleep. Weary as he was, he was on his guard as he entered the rooming house and slowly climbed the stairs to the top floor. He tried to walk softly so as not to make any noise. He could afford to take no chances. The hall was empty. He moved cautiously. When he came to the door of Derringer’s room, he paused and pressed an ear against it. He could hear voices. Suddenly sleep was the last thing on his mind. He came into the room fast and low, his laser held ready before him. Chairs fell over as the occupants of the room dove in separate directions and someone yelled his name.

Forrester lowered his weapon. “Too slow,” he said.

“For once, I’m grateful,” Andre said, shakily. “I didn’t even realize that door wasn’t bolted.”

“You both need rest,” said Forrester. He sounded exhausted himself. “Come have a drink, Priest. There’s something I have to tell you.”

The morning came with Finn still feeling alert and tense. He had smoked half a box of cigarettes and his throat was more than a bit raw. Sapt and von Tarlenheim arrived to find him dressed, but incorrectly. He had put on his evening uniform instead of his morning uniform and a change was needed before he could begin the first of his monarchial duties, which entailed the greeting of the corps diplomatique. There were papers to be signed, which gave Finn’s co-conspirators a nasty turn for a moment until he claimed that he was unable to write comfortably due to having injured his hand while hunting in Zenda. He did so with such a flash of royal petulance that the chancellor hastened away with many apologies and bows to search his legal books for precedents. He returned with the suggestion that “His Majesty could make his mark” with his left hand. It would be a bit irregular, but it would all be legal provided that there were so and so many witnesses, all of whom would have to swear an oath to testify that the signature was genuine and sign themselves, as well. Sapt did so nonchalantly, but von Tarlenheim looked pained as he swore before “Almighty God and My Sovereign Liege” and half his ancestors, perjuring himself irredeemably both on the secular and spiritual levels. Finn went through it all with a vague air of boredom and impatience, grateful for the fact that he did not have to spend any length of time in conversation with anyone who knew the king well. Sapt had assumed the role of chief factotum easily and he ran interference for him admirably, his stiff military bearing and demeanor proving quite infectious and lending an atmosphere of formality and dispatch to the proceedings.

It was afternoon by the time that they were finished with the scheduled activities for the morning and took time for a meal, which Finn, as his first royal decree verbally issued, ordered served to them in his chambers. The chancellor, a whipcord thin, middle-aged man with sunken cheeks, immensely mournful eyes, and a habit of pressing his lips together every few seconds, hesitantly reminded His Majesty that there were still a number of people wishing to pay their respects, not the least of them being the Duke of Streisau, who had ridden in from Zenda and expressed his wish to dine with His Majesty. Finn waved him off without a word and the chancellor departed, clearly not looking forward to informing Michael of the snub.

Sapt chuckled when they were finally alone. “I must say, Your Majesty,” he said, giving a slight ironic stress to the title, “you appear to have quite a knack for this sort of thing. I did not sleep at all last night, worrying about today, but my worries have been somewhat alleviated. Still, I cannot help but wonder how long we can keep it up.”

“Certainly, we must do something and we must do it soon,” said Fritz, who also appeared not to have slept at all, though his nerves were far more on edge than Sapt’s. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“Better to sit here and do nothing than to do something stupid,” Sapt said. “Michael is no fool. It may have been unwise to snub him.”

“Why?” said Finn. “You think he might hold it against me?”

Von Tarlenheim giggled. Sapt shot him a venomous look and he instantly put on a sober face. “He may have come with terms,” said Sapt. “We should hear him out.”

“What kind of terms could he possibly offer?” Finn said. “He’s committed himself. There’s no way he can let the king go. Somehow, I doubt that under the circumstances, Rudolf would be very forgiving. No, he must kill the king. He has no choice. But fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on whose point of view it is, he’d have to kill me first and he’d have to do it on the sly. It wouldn’t do for him to have the act witnessed or to have the ‘king’s’ body found before he could concoct some way to take advantage of it. He’ll simply have to play along in the charade until he can find an opportunity to make me disappear.”

“He’s right,” said Fritz. “We must make certain that he has no such opportunity. We must have you watched both day and night.”

“I would advise against that,” Finn said.

Sapt frowned. “Why?”

“The last thing you want to do is make Michael desperate and force his hand.”

Sapt nodded. “You’re right again. By God, Rassendyll, there’s more to you than meets the eye. You seem to be an old hand at intrigue.”

“Let’s simply say that I have an extremely strong instinct for self-preservation,” Finn said. “This is quite a deadly little game we’re playing and the stakes are considerably higher than they were when we began it. Moreover, the odds are hardly to my liking. There are at least seven of them and only the three of us.”

“And Michael enjoys the people’s favor,” added Fritz.

“Well, now maybe there’s something we can act upon,” said Finn. “If Michael enjoys the people’s favor, then Rudolf must be in some disfavor with the people. Why?”

“Why?” said Sapt. “You met him. You saw. He’s an irresponsible young fool who cares for little save his own pleasures. He cares nothing for the people or for the duties of the crown. Which is not to say that Michael loves the people any more. He simply knows the art of currying their favor, whereas Rudolf could not be bothered. Rudolf should sit upon the throne by right, there’s that, but at least he would leave affairs of state in hands far more capable than his. Michael would take direct control and I daresay that the nation would not prosper for it.” “Then there’s the matter of the princess,” said Fritz. “Yes, I was going to mention that,” said Finn. “Somehow, it seems the two of you neglected to inform me that I would be alone with her.”

“A grievous oversight,” said Sapt. “I don’t know what I was thinking of. Forgive me, Rudolf. You did not make her suspicious?”

“I don’t think so,” Finn said. “But I’m going to have to know how things stood between them. From our brief conversation, it was my impression that she is a trifle cool toward Rudolf.”

“Cool!” said Fritz. “I like that. Cold as ice, would be more like.”

Sapt grimaced wryly. “I never thought that I’d be at all concerned with our friend’s romantic dalliances,” he said, “but at the moment, I am profoundly grateful that young Fritz here has set his cap at Countess Helga.”

“Countess Helga von Strofzin,” von Tarlenheim explained, a bit awkwardly, “is lady in waiting to the princess. We are, I suppose one might say, rather close.”

Sapt chuckled. This time, it was von Tarlenheim who shot him an irate look.

“From Helga, that is, from the Countess von Strofzin-”

“Let’s just call her Helga,” Finn said, “to make things simpler.”

“Yes, well. From Helga, I have learned that Princess Flavia is resigned to wedding Rudolf, rather than looking forward to it. She bears him little love. Well,” he cleared his throat, uneasily, “none at all, to be quite frank.”

“Why’s that?” said Finn.

“Because, well, dear me, how shall I put it-”

“I’ll put it for you,” Sapt said, gruffly. “Were Rudolf not betrothed to her from birth, his feelings toward her might well have been different, but as it is, he regards her as a duty, so to speak, and Rudolf has never been the most dutiful of men.”

“In other words,” said Finn, “you’re telling me that he neglects her, takes her for granted?”

“Well, in a word,” began Fritz, awkwardly, only to be interrupted by Colonel Sapt.

“In a word, yes,” said Sapt. “What the devil’s wrong with you, Fritz? This is no time for delicacy.” He looked back at Finn. “Rudolf pays about as much attention to her as he does to his saddle. It’s there, it belongs to him, he’ll use it when he needs it and when not, someone will care for it and relieve him of the bother.”

“The man’s a damn fool,” said Finn.

“See here, now, Rassendyll,” said Fritz.

“Be quiet, Fritz,” said Sapt. “Rudolf’s right. The king’s a damn fool. Flavia would make any man a fine and loyal wife. She’s intelligent, well-mannered, considerate to a fault and beautiful, as well. What man could ask for more? Rudolf treats her little better than he does his servants. He’s a damn fool, all right, but he’s our damn fool, worse luck, and we must stand by him. But, by God, I’ll not condone the way he treats her!”

“The people like her a great deal, I assume,” said Finn.

“Like her?” Fritz said. “I should say they like her. She is their darling.”

“Then perhaps we should take steps to make her Rudolf Elphberg’s darling, as well,” said Finn.

“Now just a moment, Rassendyll,” said Fritz, anxiously. “Just what are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that if the king were to conspicuously court his future wife, the people might look upon him with more favor. Perhaps having been crowned, the full import of his position has, shall we say, matured him somewhat? Made him take himself, and others, a bit more seriously, as befits a king?”

“Now just one moment!” Fritz said, genuinely alarmed now. “You’re not seriously proposing to make love to Princess Flavia?”

“Why not?” said Finn.

Sapt pursed his lips and nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “Why not?”

“Sapt!”

“Shut up, Fritz. It’s an excellent idea.”

“Look,” said Finn, “at the risk of seeming crude, I’m not proposing to hop into bed with her-”

“My God!” said Fritz.

“Fritz, if you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll clout you one, so help me!” Sapt said.

“I merely wish to point out,” Finn continued, “that it would do no harm to court her. In fact, if the king were suddenly to turn over a new leaf and be more solicitous of her, as well as of his subjects, the people might experience a change of heart toward him. Anything that would strengthen his position would serve as well to weaken that of Black Michael.”

“By Heaven, I wish I’d had you in my regiment,” said Sapt. “What a second-in-command you would have been! You have a positively brilliant mind for strategy!”

“Strategy?” said Fritz, looking from one to the other of them desperately. “Gentlemen! Please! For the love of Heaven, we’re not discussing some military campaign here! We’re talking about a woman! Not just any woman, but the Princess Flavia! I will not stand idly by to see her affections toyed with!”

“What would you rather I do, Fritz,” Finn said, “treat her like dirt, as Rudolf did? She seemed like a very nice woman to me. Far too nice to be treated like a saddle, as Sapt here put it.”

“No, certainly, I would not wish that-”

“What, then?”

“Well. Well, I… Well, that is, I…”

Sapt grinned. “He has you there, Fritz.”

Von Tarlenheim bit his lower lip.

“Fear not, Fritz,” Finn said. “I give you my solemn word of honor as an Englishman and a gentleman, as well as a former officer in the service of Her Royal Majesty, the Queen Victoria, that my conduct toward the Princess Flavia will be nothing less than honorable with the observation of all the usual proprieties. So there. You have my word of honor. If it will not serve, then sir, I must perforce offer you my glove.”

Von Tarlenheim instantly stiffened to a position of attention, every inch the gentleman and cavalier. “With my utmost respect, Mr. Rassendyll, that will not be necessary. The word of an English officer and gentleman is certainly good enough for Fritz von Tarlenheim and I will not have it said otherwise. If anything that I have said led you to believe that I have in any way impugned your honor, sir, I humbly tender my apologies and hasten to assure you that nothing can be further from the truth.”

“No apologies are necessary, my friend, as no offense was taken,” Finn said. He stood up and offered von Tarlenheim his hand. “I appreciate your concern and regard you well because of it. Let us say no more. We understand each other.”

They shook hands.

“Now,” said Finn, “let’s get down to business, shall we? When I agreed to undertake this masquerade for you, I had no idea that it would ever go this far. Needless to say, neither had you, but that is not the point. The point is that we now find ourselves in a devil of a mess. If we are to get through it alive, much less with any hope of rescuing your king, I am going to require a great deal of help from you.”

“That goes without saying,” said von Tarlenheim. “We owe you everything. Without you, the king would surely have been dead by now.”

“And he may well be, for all we know,” said Sapt, gloomily.

“No, the king still lives,” said Fritz.

Sapt looked at him sharply. “How do you know?”

“Because when Michael arrived in Strelsau this morning, he brought only three of the Six with him,” Fritz said. “Which can only mean that the remaining three have been left behind in Zenda to guard the king. There would be no need of their having been left behind to guard a dead man.”

“Then there is still hope,” said Sapt. “Michael hasn’t lost his head. I was afraid he might. He’s realized his position. The question is, has he found a way to extricate himself from it?”

“There is only one way he can extricate himself from his position that I can think of,” Finn said, “and that would be to kill me.”

Sapt nodded wordlessly.

Von Tarlenheim licked his lips nervously. “I can think of one choice open to us.” He swallowed hard. “We could kill Black Michael.”

“If you could get past his bodyguards,” said Finn. “Besides, killing him would not guarantee the king’s safety. If you did that, the Six would have no one left to give them orders or to pay them, true, but why should they allow you to get off the hook? If we are to assume that they are professionals, gentlemen, we must also assume they would realize that with Michael dead, they would have no protection. The moment that they learned of Michael’s death, they would kill the king and flee or, better yet, if they were smart, they would flee with the king as hostage. Then, the moment they were safely beyond your reach, they would kill the king and disperse, each to his own fate.” Finn shook his head. “No, your best chance to keep the king alive is to keep Michael alive. His removal would throw them into disarray, but not for very long.”

Sapt stared at Finn with growing interest. For a moment, Finn had a crazy feeling that the old soldier had actually figured it all out, though of course, that was impossible.

“What are we to do, then?” said von Tarlenheim, helplessly.

“It appears to me that there is only one thing that we can do,” Finn said. “We cannot hope to attack the castle in force. Even if there were some way we could get the entire army to support us-and how would we do that without tipping our hand? — Michael could easily kill the king. Where would be your proof? By the time you could take the castle, Michael would have had an opportunity to destroy Rudolf’s remains a dozen times over.”

“Lord, Rassendyll,” said Fritz.

“Listen to him, Fritz,” said Sapt, watching him intently. “This is a grim business we’re about and we can spare no time to phrase matters delicately.”

“We cannot hope to prevail upon Michael to release the king,” said Finn. “He has everything to lose by doing so and nothing at all to gain. There is no pressure we could bring to bear upon him that would be great enough to bend him to our will. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” said Sapt.

“What does that leave us, then?” said Fritz. “What if we tried to bribe the Six? We could pay them more than Michael pays them and induce them to change sides.”

“That would be unwise,” said Sapt. “One can never trust a mercenary. They have only their own gain to care for. They could burn the candle at both ends.”

“What’s to be done, then?” said von Tarlenheim.

“We have only one choice left open to us,” Finn said. “We must take Zenda Castle by ourselves.”

“You’re mad,” said Fritz von Tarlenheim. “It would be impossible. Besides, you only just finished telling us that Michael could kill the king if any such attack took place.”

“If it were an open attack, yes,” said Finn, “but not if it were accomplished by stealth.”

“But how?” said Fritz.

“There has to be a way,” said Finn. “Sapt, you strike me as the sort of man who would inspire great loyalty amongst his troops. Are there any such who once served under you that you could count on?”

“I can think of a few,” said Sapt, “senior officers now in Strakencz’s regiment and some who have retired from the service. They are not taken in by His Lordship, the Duke of Strelsau. They remember him all too well as a young officer. Still, they are only a handful, and how can we enlist their aid without telling them the truth?”

“Perhaps we will not have to tell them the truth,” said Finn. “Or we can tell them the truth and bend it slightly.”

“What do you mean?” said Fritz.

“Well, there is a prisoner in Zenda Castle,” Finn said. “Do we have to tell them it’s the king?”

“Go on,” said Sapt, intrigued.

“Suppose we had a potential international incident upon our hands,” said Finn. “Suppose some very influential foreign gentleman, a friend of the king’s, had run afoul of Michael somehow-we needn’t say how-and Michael had imprisoned him in Zenda Castle in order to teach him a lesson? He is, after all, the Duke of Strelsau and holder of the estates and lands of Zenda. He could easily charge someone with a crime and execute the punishment.”

“True,” said Sapt. “He has that authority.”

“Well then, let us assume that the king has been made aware of this, say that the ambassador of the nation that this imaginary gentleman is from has secretly approached the king and asked him to intervene on this gentleman’s behalf. All very behind the scenes, to avoid an unpleasant incident involving governments, and so forth. Our imaginary gentleman is a very important man. The king, also secretly, remonstrates with Michael to release the man in order to avoid political repercussions. Michael is intransigent. You can see how this would pose a serious problem. Moving against Michael openly as his first official act would be a bad decision for the king. It would reopen wounds that are still all too fresh in Ruritania. Michael, of course, would realize this. That would be his advantage in the situation. So, in order to avoid political unpleasantness, the king intends to continue bargaining with Michael. However, should all his appeals fall upon deaf ears, he is prepared to move, in secret, against Zenda Castle in order to rescue this imprisoned gentleman. Afterwards, of course, he can claim total ignorance of the affair and insist that it all must have been done by foreign nationals, lodge a strenuous protest with the ambassador concerned, which imaginary ambassador will of course take it no further and the entire affair will be brought to a close. That is how you will present it to your men, Sapt. They are to stand by, prepared to move at a moment’s notice in this most secret mission, to rescue this imaginary gentleman from Zenda Castle in case all negotiations fail.”

“By God, Rassendyll,” said Sapt, “you astonish me! The plan is positively brilliant! Still, it has serious flaws. I cannot muster enough men to take the castle. And even if they could, how would we protect the king?”

“That is where I come in,” said Finn. “I will have to swim the moat and find a way to get inside by stealth. I will have to find out where the king is being held, then lower the drawbridge for you so that your attack can be made by surprise. If you can gain access to the castle, you will not need a lot of men. You will storm through the chateau on horseback and in the ensuing confusion, I will make my way next to the king and guard him with my life.”

“But how can you hope to accomplish that alone?” said Fritz.

“One man, alone, might penetrate the castle and escape detection,” Finn said. “If we attack at night, we may have a chance. But you will need to move with all possible speed once the drawbridge has been lowered. Our only advantage is in surprise.”

“It just might work,” said Fritz, “though the plan is insanity itself. You would be taking a tremendous risk. The odds are almost certain that you would be killed.”

“The odds are certain that I will be killed if we do not make the attempt,” said Finn. “In fact, if we do not, we are all dead men. You cannot watch over me indefinitely. If a man is a target for assassins, then he will surely die eventually. Sooner or later, Michael’s mercenaries will have me and once I am out of the way, Michael can contrive to stage Rudolf’s death in some manner that would not implicate him and that would serve him at the same time, just as you told me earlier, Sapt. With Michael in power, you can be sure that your lives would not mean a thing. In the event that I should disappear before the king is freed, my friends, I can only urge you to do likewise. Michael would waste no time in having you two murdered once I was disposed of.”

“In the event that Michael has you killed,” Sapt said grimly, “then he signs his own death warrant, come what may. Rest assured that you shall be avenged. On that, you have my word of honor and I care not what the cost.”

Finn felt a strange tightness in his chest. He and Sapt had known each other for scarcely three days, yet he knew-as did Sapt-that there had formed a strong bond between them. Physically, Sapt was older by a good many years, having never had the benefit of antiaging drugs that could extend his lifespan. Biologically, Finn had lived longer than Sapt had. The worlds that each existed in were separated by over seven hundred years. Yet, they were the same. Both cut from the same cloth. Both subscribers to a code of ethics that neither of them could have stated, yet each understood on some subliminal level that came not from the intellect, but from somewhere in the gut. Buddhists believed that that was the center of one’s being and perhaps, Finn thought, they knew something that no else did. Or, that all men knew, but few remembered.

“There is one thing more,” said Fritz, oblivious of the electric interplay that had just taken place in some fraction of a second between the two other men, a spark that had made them lock gazes quickly and then, just as quickly, look away, like guilty lovers. “The marriage between the king and Princess Flavia was to have taken place after the coronation. Each day it is postponed brings more disfavor on the king. It will be interpreted as an insult to the princess that the king would make her wait upon his bidding until such time as he is pleased to wed her. There, Michael has us. That we have dared allow an imposter to be crowned is bad enough. For that, Lord help us, our souls will have to answer on the Day of Judgement. But to allow the princess to enter into holy wedlock with that same imposter would be unthinkable. Whatever it is we are to do, we must do it soon, else all is lost.”

“All the more reason for me to court ‘my’ future wife,” said Finn. “It will buy us time. I would imagine that the court at Strelsau is not all that much different from the English court in one respect at least. Both surely have their gossip-mongers. With a word in the right ear or two, it can quickly go about that the king, having experienced some profound awakening-perhaps in the midst of all the holy solemnity of the coronation ceremony-has also realized or, let’s say, has had forcibly driven home to him the sudden knowledge that he is about to wed a woman whom he has never taken the trouble to know. At least, on the level of a husband-to-be. If he postpones the marriage in order that he might romance the princess, court her favor rather than simply take her as his due, wouldn’t that be regarded as romantic gallantry or some such thing? Would it not make Rudolf seem-well-somehow more human?”

Sapt smiled and shook his head. “You English!” he said. “You and your romantic poets and drawingroom novelists! Flavia has known Rudolf all her life and he has never regarded her as anything more than part of the palace furniture. Why should she believe in such a sudden change in him?”

Finn raised his eyebrows. “Why? Well, perhaps she won’t. But I’ll tell you a secret about women, Sapt. It has to do with what women know about men, but what men themselves do not know about each other. Women know that men are creatures of emotion. Whereas we ascribe that attribute to them, the fact is that a woman understands her emotions far better than a man does. We men are the ones who are entirely creatures of the heart. We accuse women of it like guilty little boys pointing fingers at their playmates in order to spare themselves responsibility. The truth is that women understand us better than we understand ourselves. If we are foolish or inconsistent, they are not surprised. They expect it of us.”

Sapt made an incredulous face. “I never heard such addle-brained nonsense in my life!”

“Then you, Sapt, will never understand a woman.”

“I think it’s worth a try,” said Fritz. “What have we got to lose?”

Sapt looked at him with astonishment. “You think it’s worth a try? A moment ago, you were outraged at the very idea!”

Finn chuckled. “You see?” he said.

Von Tarlenheim flushed deeply and began to stammer a reply when there came a knock at the doors and the chancellor entered with a letter for the king. Finn thanked him and dismissed him, then opened the letter.

“What is it?” Sapt said.

Finn read aloud:

“If the king desires to know what it deeply concerns the king to know, let him do as this letter bids him. At the end of the New Avenue there stands a house in large grounds. The house has a portico with a statue of a nymph in it. A wall encloses the garden; there is a gate in the wall at the back. At twelve o’clock tonight, if the king enters alone by that gate, turns to the right and walks twenty yards, he will find a summerhouse, approached by a flight of six steps. If he mounts and enters, he will find someone who will tell him what touches most dearly his life and his throne.”

Finn tossed the letter down onto the table, so that Sapt could take it. “Somehow, I didn’t think it would be signed. Do you recognize the hand, Sapt?”

The old soldier frowned, gazing at the letter. “Not I.”

“Would you know Black Michael’s?”

“It is not his. Yet, that means nothing. He could have dictated it. It’s a trap, for certain.”

“Well, we shall have to see, won’t we?” Finn said.

“Surely, you’re not thinking of going?” said von Tarlenheim.

“Why not?”

“Why not? Don’t be a fool, man, you’ll be killed!”

Sapt rose. “I shall go and find out who delivered that letter to the chancellor.”

“Don’t bother,” Finn said. “Our letter-writer prefers to remain anonymous. I doubt he would have delivered this in person. Besides, I don’t think this is a trap. Would Michael be so obvious?”

“No, but he might be so devious,” said Sapt. “He might think that we would not credit him with being so obvious and so fall into the trap.”

“There is that,” said Finn. “Nevertheless, there’s only one way we will know for sure.”

“No,” said Sapt, shaking his head. “I cannot allow it. The risk would be foolhardy.”

“Sapt, would you countermand your king?” said Finn.

“This is no time to jest,” said Fritz.

“Who’s jesting? Something in this game has got to give. We won’t get anywhere if we sit around here hoping for the best. If someone wants to kill me tonight, I’ll do my best to stay alive, but I think that someone wants to talk. I’d like to listen to what he has to say. It might guide us in our plans.”

“I shall go with you, then,” said Sapt.

“As far as the garden wall,” said Finn. “From there, I go alone.”

Sapt glowered at him. “Don’t take your role too seriously, Your Majesty,” he said. “You’re not the king, you know.”

“Maybe I’m not the real king, but I’m the only one you have at the moment. If I decided to take a walk tonight, how would you stop me? Call out the guard?”

“I’d stop you by myself if need be,” Sapt said. “Don’t think I couldn’t.”

“Perhaps you could,” said Finn, “but then I could call out the guard, you see. Fit of royal temper, don’t you know? A night in jail would do you a world of good.”

“Damn you, Rassendyll-”

“Come on now, Sapt. Where’s your spirit of adventure?”

“Very well. You win.”

“You’re both insane!” said Fritz.

“You want to come?” said Finn.

Von Tarlenheim looked from him to Sapt and back again, then rolled his eyes and shrugged helplessly. “All right, we are all three insane, then. Why not? I am already a blasphemer, a perjured liar, and an accomplice to a fraud. I may as well be a fool, too.”

“By the way,” said Finn, “whose house is it we’re going to, does anybody know?”

“Everyone but you,” said Sapt. “The house is Michael’s residence in Strelsau. Just a coincidence, I suppose.”

“Do me a favor, Sapt,” said Finn, “please don’t ask me to explain, but don’t ever use that word to me again.”