"Have you anything to ask, sire, before we part?"The King's voice followed.It was his, though it was faint and hollow--different from the merry tones I had heard in the glades of the forest.
"Pray my brother," said the King, "to kill me.I am dying by inches here.""The duke does not desire your death, sire--yet,"sneered Detchard; "when he does behold your path to heaven!"The King answered:
"So be it! And now, if your orders allow it, pray leave me.""May you dream of paradise!" said the ruffian.
The light disappeared.I heard the bolts of the door run home.
And then I heard the sobs of the King.He was alone, as he thought.
Who dares mock at him?
I did not venture to speak to him.The risk of some exclamation escaping him in surprise was too great.I dared do nothing that night; and my task now was to get myself away in safety, and to carry off the carcass of the dead man.To leave him there would tell too much.Casting loose the boat, I got in.The wind was blowing a gale now, and there was little danger of oars being heard.
I rowed swiftly round to where my friends waited.I had just reached the spot, when a loud whistle sounded over the moat behind me.
"Hullo, Max!" I heard shouted.
I hailed Sapt in a low tone.The rope came down.I tied it round the corpse, and then went up it myself.
"Whistle you too," I whispered, "for our men, and haul in the line.
No talk now."
They hauled up the body.Just as it reached the road, three men on horseback swept round from the front of the Castle.
We saw them; but, being on foot ourselves, we escaped their notice.
But we heard our men coming up with a shout.
"The devil, but it's dark!" cried a ringing voice.
It was young Rupert.A moment later, shots rang out.Our people had met them.I started forward at a run, Sapt and Fritz following me.
"Thrust, thrust!" cried Rupert again, and a loud groan following told that he himself was not behind-hand.
"I'm done, Rupert!" cried a voice."They're three to one.
Save yourself!"
I ran on, holding my cudgel in my hand.Suddenly a horse came towards me.A man was on it, leaning over his shoulder.
"Are you cooked too, Krafstein?" he cried.
There was no answer.
I sprang to the horse's head.It was Rupert Hentzau.
"At last!" I cried.
For we seemed to have him.He had only his sword in his hand.
My men were hot upon him; Sapt and Fritz were running up.
I had outstripped them; but if they got close enough to fire, he must die or surrender.
"At last!" I cried.
"It's the play-actor!" cried he, slashing at my cudgel.He cut it clean in two; and, judging discretion better than death, I ducked my head and (I blush to tell it) scampered for my life.
The devil was in Rupert Hentzau; for he put spurs to his horse, and I, turning to look, saw him ride, full gallop, to the edge of the moat and leap in, while the shots of our party fell thick round him like hail.With one gleam of moonlight we should have riddled him with balls; but, in the darkness, he won to the corner of the Castle, and vanished from our sight.
"The deuce take him!" grinned Sapt.
"It's a pity," said I, "that he's a villain.Whom have we got?"We had Lauengram and Krafstein: they lay dead; and, concealment being no longer possible, we flung them, with Max, into the moat;and, drawing together in a compact body, rode off down the hill.
And, in our midst, went the bodies of three gallant gentlemen.
Thus we travelled home, heavy at heart for the death of our friends, sore uneasy concerning the King, and cut to the quick that young Rupert had played yet another winning hand with us.
For my own part, I was vexed and angry that I had killed no man in open fight, but only stabbed a knave in his sleep.
And I did not love to hear Rupert call me a play-actor.
