A Modern Mercenary

'They are the same, and it is difficult to know where our true interest lies,' said Selpdorf, thoughtfully. 'Do you go to the Castle of Sagan next week?'

The abrupt change of subject seemed to have its effect upon Elmur. He turned away from the table, crossed his legs, and lit a cigarette in a leisurely manner before he answered.

'Yes; and you, Monsieur?'

'I have no inclination for these gaieties; but my daughter goes.' Von Elmur shot a glance at his companion.

'To repeat my own words – we do not progress, my dear Selpdorf.'

'So? Women finesse in these affairs. Valerie follows the custom of her sex, and perhaps she has become a little spoilt by overmuch admiration. Were she aware of your wishes, it would solve many of the present doubts.'

'It takes two to make that especial kind of bargain,' said Elmur, with a curious smile, 'one to ask, the other to grant. I am prepared to ask when I am assured that my request will be favourably received. An ambassador is esteemed in just the same degree as the country he represents. If his country triumph he triumphs also.'

'In this case I might point out that your personal success,' the Chancellor said airily, 'would be the best, shall I say the only possible, preliminary to the success of the mission with which his Imperial Majesty has charged you.'

Elmur drew in his lips slightly. Valerie, as the Baroness von Elmur, was to be her father's guarantee for the future! Although Elmur's desires lay in the same direction, Selpdorf's insistence was most unpalatable to the German minister.

'I am ready to lay myself at Mademoiselle's feet,' he said aloud, 'but there is always the picturesque young captain of the Guard.'

'Unziar? I can positively reassure your Excellency on that point.'

'Unziar? No! The Englishman – Rallywood.'

'Rallywood?' said the Chancellor in very real surprise, 'what of him?'

'Nothing beyond the fact that he has an aptitude for challenging fate. Such men dazzle the eyes, and are consequently apt to be dangerous. Why has he been placed in the Guard?'

'I placed him there to serve our mutual convenience,' replied Selpdorf. 'He is an Englishman, with his full share of English intolerance and courage. On the other hand, the Guard resent the intrusion of foreigners, neither are they – mild-mannered.'

Elmur considered.

'The chances were in favour of trouble certainly. Had there been trouble Rallywood might have disposed of some of our chief difficulties for us,' he remarked, with a cynical smile.

'He might also have been disposed of himself,' said Selpdorf, 'and he is the one human being for whom the good Counsellor has the slightest regard. In politics it is necessary to consider the personal equation. To touch Counsellor in his weakest point would have been to alienate England at the convenient moment.'

'All that might have been true' – Elmur shrugged his shoulders; 'unluckily we must face things as they actually are.'

'Even now Rallywood has his uses. The Guard is composed of the flower of our nobility – they are not to be tempted. At least that is my opinion, although I believe Count Sagan holds differently. But this Rallywood is a soldier of fortune, a mercenary. You perceive?'

Elmur stroked his chin dubiously.

'I am very much afraid he belongs to the wrong breed. However, I would wish to point out that it will be essential to carry through this matter quickly. If the Duke could be persuaded to accept the scheme of reversion, the whole arrangement would be completed before the world was the wiser.'

'It is the simplest plan, and therefore the best. But what will England say? Counsellor is here, that in itself speaks.'

'Neither England nor the good Counsellor can touch an accomplished fact. As they say in their own idiom, "Possession is nine parts of the law." It remains with us to make the fact.'

Selpdorf arose.

'Your Excellency will excuse me. It is time to start for the palace. To-day his Highness the Duke holds a review of the Guard. I will if possible sound him on the subject which interests us both. Should that fail, we must consider the alternative scheme.'

Half-an-hour later the two men met again as they dismounted in the courtyard of the palace. They approached each other courteously.

'There stands the real obstacle to our success,' said Elmur in a low tone.

Selpdorf followed the German Minister's glance. Standing there, in the fire-light of the guard-room, was the tall figure of Anthony Unziar, waiting with haughty stiffness for the appearance of the Duke.

'His Highness's gentlemen, the Maäsaun Guard,' went on Elmur with a bitter sneer, 'the impersonation of an arrogant militarism!'

'Seven – to be counted with,' corrected Selpdorf gently. 'The other, the eighth – '

'Has the initial fault of nationality. However, he goes to Sagan.'

The mist cleared as the sun rose higher until, by noon, the sky was of a pale radiant blue laced with a delicate broidery of white wind-scattered clouds. Looking westward the dark river wound away to the sea, ringed here and there by the highly decorated bridges of light-toned granite peculiar to Maäsau. Révonde, in the sunshine, shone in the colours of a moss-grown stone, gray and green, the twin ridges on which it stood fretted and embossed to their summits with the palaces and pinnacles, the spires and towers, and gardens of the spreading city. The Grand Duke, as they rounded the mounting road to the parade ground, looked back upon Révonde with a lingering glance. Selpdorf who was seated opposite to him, had been replying to his grumbling questions as to the condition of the royal exchequer with a depressing account of the hopelessness of the situation.

'Révonde is a jewel after all!' said the Duke suddenly; 'a jewel can always be mortgaged, Selpdorf.'

Selpdorf admitted that this was true, and also hinted that the jewel had been used in one way or another pretty freely to raise the revenues for a good many years, without giving much in the way of a quid pro quo, beyond the vague hopes and airy promises which pledged the Maäsaun government to little or nothing. But now, he explained, the Powers were growing weary of so unprofitable a speculation, and were inclined to expect some definite return for their assistance.

The Duke listened moodily, lying back on his cushions, a thin-legged, paunchy figure, whose features had lost their shapely mould under the touch of dissipation. The nose hung long and fleshy between the pouched skin of his cheekbones, the eyes showed a tell-tale slackness in the under eyelid, where it merged into the loose wrinkles below. The lower part of the face was covered by a long but sparse moustache, through which at times could be discerned that terrible protrusion of the upper lip that seems the herald of senility. Yet Gustave, Grand Duke of Maäsau, was only that day celebrating the completion of his fifty-seventh year.

Where the carriage attained the level of the plateau, the main road curved away inland to the right, while upon the left hand, under the wall of encircling brown cliffs, a small brigade of all arms was assembled to do honour to their ruler. Through a cut in the hills far away, but seemingly nearer on that windy morning, could be seen a blue open bay, blown into the 'innumerable laughter of the sea.' The air, the whole scene, was inspiriting, but the Duke looked heavily on as the troops deployed and turned, their arms glittering in the sunlight.

First in order came a couple of squadrons of the Frontier Cavalry, with their black sheepskins hanging behind them; then infantry, followed by two batteries of artillery divided by some more cavalry, and, after a distinct interval, the Guard.

The little army was perfect in equipment and finish, and their uniforms were brilliant and picturesque; but the Duke stared out of the amphitheatre of the parade ground with dissatisfaction and ennui. Money, he wanted money, and the less the Chancellor could encourage him to hope for it the more he desired to have it by hook or by crook.

The Grand Marshal of Maäsau having been dismissed from the side of the royal carriage with a few curt words, the Duke spoke again, in a low tone to Selpdorf.

'Then you wish me to understand that there is no more to be got out of anybody. I know better than that. England, Germany, and Russia, are waiting to outbid each other.'

'That is true, sire; but they will not deal on the old terms.'

The Guard, with scattered pennons flying, were drawn up at the lower end of the parade ground. The chief effect of the day was about to take place – the charge of the Guard.

'I am now of an age,' remarked the Duke peevishly, 'when my birthdays have ceased to be a cause for congratulation. This review is an anachronism. In my father's time I rode at the head of the Guard, and led a charge on the day I was eighteen. Pish! I have grown wiser, and know how to enjoy life after a more rational fashion. To return to our other subject – What do they want?'

Selpdorf smiled, and passed his fingers upwards over the erect corners of his moustache.

'For example, there is a power that might pay a heavy annual sum if your Highness would consent to disband your Guard!' he said, with a tentative smile.

The slack fallen lines of the Duke's visage grew suddenly tense. His eyes brightened as the tossing mass in green and gold swept down towards them in a thunder of hoofs, and the long-drawn shout of 'Maäsau,' with which the Guard have charged home on so many a battlefield.

As the splendid ranks of horsemen crashed past under a flashing play of saluting swords, the Duke pulled himself erect in his carriage and raised his gloved hand in acknowledgment with a strong fling of enthusiasm that recalled to men present other and better days.

Selpdorf's brow lost its round smoothness for a short moment, but cleared again before the Duke dropped back with a groan into his seat.

'Disband the Guard? What traitor suggested that? May the Guard shoot me first! I'd rather rot of starvation than consent to it! For with the Guard is bound up the freedom of Maäsau!'

Presently he turned upon the Chancellor with a glooming and suspicious gaze.

'Has Sagan been tampering with you?' he asked, with a sneer, 'if he tempted you now it would only be to betray you later! He hankers after Maäsau, but remember my cousin in England. He has claims which cannot be over-ridden.'

Selpdorf remained respectfully silent for a short time, revolving the extremely important admission with regard to the second claimant to the heritage of the Duchy, which the Duke in his excitement had made.

The first and simpler plan of persuading the Duke to enter into an understanding with Germany, to the effect that she should enjoy the reversion of Maäsau in exchange for the payment of a secured annuity, was plainly hopeless. It now remained to put in motion the second scheme, which contained elements of infinitely greater danger.

Human nature is a complex thing, yet each man's attitude of mind towards himself, is often only an extension of his attitude of mind towards his neighbour.

What the Chancellor said to himself to whitewash his conduct in his own eyes, who can tell? The Duke, old vice-sodden reprobate as he was, had that one remnant of manhood left, a determination to face the last and most absolute contingency of life rather than sell his country.

Perhaps Selpdorf used that most guilty of all excuses – If I do not put my hand to this thing someone else will. Maäsau must fall sooner or later to some larger power. May not I profit by it as well as another? Did he set his house of excuse upon the sand of a certain bitter writing? 'I will persuade them,' said Satan – 'I will make them two idols, which they shall call Honour and Fidelity, and a law which shall be called passive obedience. And they shall worship these idols!' If Honour, Fidelity, and Obedience be idols, where then, are the true gods?

CHAPTER IX

THE CASTLE OF SAGAN

The broadly flowing Kofn forms part of the north-eastern boundary of the State of Maäsau. Its dark waters rush tumultuously from the gorge below the Castle of Sagan, and fling a vast enclosing arm about the bleak plains and marshes of which the wastes of the frontier consist.

It is a land where even summer dwells coldly.

To the north a chain of hills rises black against the sky, and there, set upon a boldly jutting spur, the Castle of Sagan dominates the inhospitable landscape like a frown upon a sinister face.

The whole spur and the hill behind it are rough with ragged pine-woods, and, below, the banks shelve to the river with a broken scattering of deciduous trees, that leave on the eye the chill impression of leafless branches tangled against a background of grey and stony slopes.

Some two or three miles south of the Castle the river breaks across a step-like outcrop of rock, and thus forms that famous ford, across which the Counts of Sagan used in the old days to lead their foraging expeditions over the border.

Simon of Sagan, the present Count, inherited in an unmodified degree the more predatory and uncivilized instincts of his forefathers. Illiterate, brutal, and cunning, the thin veneer laid by the nineteenth century upon his coarse-grained nature was apt to rub off on the very slightest friction, bringing the original savage to the surface.

He was at once the terror and the pride of the stolid, silent peasantry that lived under his rule. A fierce and fearless sportsman, his dependents delighted in boasting of the prowess of a master whose capricious cruelties they never dreamed of resenting. With Sagan, throughout life, to desire was to have, and in his pursuit of the wished-for object, he was hampered by no new-fangled sentiments of honour, truth, or loyalty. Like other savages he quickly tired of his fancies when once gratified. Not four years ago he had been possessed by a frantic passion for the beautiful young wife whom he had now come to regard with something dangerously near hate.

In dealing with such a temperament as this both Elmur and Selpdorf were well aware that they were handling an explosive that might at any moment wreck their most carefully laid plans. They would very much have preferred to have made a tool of the reigning Duke, but Selpdorf, who had been plying him for more than a month with a ceaseless and exhaustive course of innuendo, discouragement, and veiled temptation, was at length convinced, by the Duke's reply on the day of the review, that nothing further was to be hoped for in that direction.

For this reason the German party was obliged to fall back on Count Sagan. That he was untrammelled by principle, and was, moreover, prepared to meet them half-way, rendered their schemes no whit safer. The only hope of security lay in clinching the matter as quickly as it was possible to do so. Once the German grasp had been fairly laid upon the State, the nominal sovereign might struggle as he liked, he could hurt no one but himself.

M. Selpdorf's chief contribution towards the new plot – which was to be carried out at the Count's own fortress, the Castle of Sagan – consisted in sending an urgent letter after his daughter, begging her to fall in with von Elmur's wishes.

Valerie received the letter in Madame de Sagan's apartments. The Countess lay on a couch, reading a French novel and yawning.

'What a devoted papa!' she exclaimed, glancing up.

Valerie did not immediately reply. She was standing at the deep embayed window that looked out towards the river and the apparently endless desolation beyond. She only moved very slightly, thereby turning her back even more completely upon her companion. The girl had not lived so long in an atmosphere of diplomacy without learning the wisdom of keeping her own counsel.

She had for some time been aware of Baron von Elmur's admiration, but only of late had he seemed anxious to make his aspirations manifest to the public – a much more significant fact. For the German was in one way a universal admirer, he made qualified love to most of the good-looking ladies about the Court, and also, perhaps, more pointedly, to some who were not so good-looking, thus gaining much profit and some pleasure. His high-shouldered, portly, personable figure, his handsome face with its close-set narrow eyes, rose before Valerie's mental eye. Her future husband? How absurd, how impossible! And she suddenly laughed a soft, throaty ripple of laughter.

Isolde moved noiselessly, and coming behind Valerie, caught her by the shoulders and swung her half round.

'What are you laughing at?' she asked over the girl's shoulder.

Valerie moved away gently from under the slender hands.

'Can you imagine yourself in love with Baron von Elmur?' she asked.

'Were you laughing at that?' inquired the other incredulously.

'Yes,' with another little laugh.

'Ah! the devoted papa has been writing of Baron von Elmur?' said the Countess, with an arch smile.

'But, I can understand being in love with von Elmur! He is – difficult. Men no longer in their first youth are much the more interesting. The love of a young man is simple, he says what he means; but when he grows older it is not so. By that time he has gathered memories, enlightenment, experiences; and he begins by thinking he knows one through and through. And why? – because he knows other women – and them how imperfectly! As if we were not as various as the colours in the old Sagan diadem! Each woman is made differently, and each reflects her own colour. To teach a man – old enough to appreciate it – this little fact about ourselves is, I assure you, never a dull amusement.'

Valerie paused before she spoke.

'Now I know why you are married, Isolde!'

'Ah, yes; but I was too young to realize that Sagan is a bear who cannot be taught to dance. I had just left school. I could not choose. But you, Valerie, you have a future before you! Poor Anthony, like all other young men, is desperately in earnest, he gives one the blues. I know he already bores you; but von Elmur – Ah, that is altogether another affair!'

Madame de Sagan sank down beside a little buhl-table, and tapped on it impatiently with her slight fingers. Against the light of the afternoon glow she watched the outline of Valerie's cheek. For Mdlle. Selpdorf had returned to her contemplation of the landscape. A curl of blue smoke from among the trees on the nearer bank of the Kofn held her gaze and suggested thoughts, which she was taking up one by one, as it were, and examining soberly enough.

Rallywood had been stationed at Kofn Ford when first Isolde made his acquaintance. The girl recalled a description she had heard of the tall young Englishman galloping along the flat road to the rescue of the pretty, terrified Countess, whose Arab had been merely cantering along, capering now and again from sheer light-heartedness and without malicious intent, until its timid rider chose to scream, when it reared and started with flying hoofs towards the marshes. Valerie went on to picture Rallywood holding the trembling woman on her saddle till her escort and grooms overtook them, and at the picture the girl's lip curled and quivered with angry scorn – of a sudden she hated and despised them both, but especially she despised Rallywood for having succumbed to Isolde's shallow beauty! Thus it will be seen that Mdlle. Selpdorf was inclined to under-rate Madame de Sagan's points. Isolde was not only wonderfully pretty, but she was endowed with a superficial cleverness, and kindliness and tact, all of which rendered her irresistible to nine men out of ten. A moral chameleon, Isolde almost always believed in herself and her own moods, therefore it was little wonder that the men whose phases of humour she reflected believed in her also, and moreover thought her as adorable and as full of delicious changes as Cleopatra.

Isolde had told the story of her adventure to Valerie, dwelling on the facts that the hero detested – absolutely detested – all other women, also that in physique he followed the most approved English pattern, and was an exceptionally good specimen at that. Altogether Valerie had found the description sufficiently attractive to induce her to pay Rallywood that coquettish little visit in the ante-room of the Hôtel du Chancelier.

While these things passed through her thoughts her eyes were still fixed upon the blue plume of smoke that rose and melted over Kofn Ford, for its position indicated the whereabouts of the block-house used by the Frontier Patrol, and there Rallywood had lived during the early part of his acquaintance with Isolde.

'What are you thinking of?' inquired Madame de Sagan suddenly; then, as Valerie made no immediate answer, she added, 'Shall I tell you, Valerie?'

The other turned, with the pink of sunset lighting up her pale face.

'I don't imagine you can guess,' she said, with a faint smile.

Madame de Sagan's little trill of laughter was not quite so childish and irresponsible as usual.

'But I can. You were thinking of Rallywood. You think rather often of Rallywood, my dear girl.'

The guess, so near the truth, startled Valerie, although she gave no sign. What could have suggested such an idea to Isolde? Instantly Valerie was on the defensive. Her delicate nostrils quivered slightly, and her hand – a larger and more capable hand than Isolde's – closed more firmly upon her father's letter, as she replied, with that firm directness which was so surprising a trait in her father's daughter: —

'Yes, I was thinking of him – and you. The block-house where he lived is down there, I can see the smoke. That reminded me of it all. By the way, Isolde, it seems that some young men have a shade of interest about them.'

'This one is rather unlike all the others,' returned Madame de Sagan, with gravity. 'He saved my life, and, well, he is different to anybody else. He assumes nothing.'

It is a fact worthy of consideration that while a man rarely establishes a claim on a woman by rendering her a service, a woman always establishes a claim on a man by being rendered a service. Perhaps this is as it should be.

'No,' repeated Valerie, thoughtfully, 'he certainly assumes – nothing.'

'What do you mean by that, Valerie?' exclaimed Isolde irritably. 'You are in one of your incomprehensible moods to-day. What do you think of Rallywood?'

'I hardly know what to think yet. Very likely I shall never come to any conclusion about him. He is not my affair, and what can be more uninteresting than a man who has saved some other woman's life?' She laughed. 'You have recommended von Elmur to my notice – I shall certainly spend my time to more profit in studying him.'

A servant entered.

'His Excellency Baron von Elmur wishes to wait upon your ladyship.'

Elmur advanced bowing. After greeting his hostess, he turned to Valerie with a manner that was new in their intercourse. He dropped from the courtier to the man pure and simple.

Kissing the girl's hand he said earnestly:

'I feared you were not to arrive until to-morrow.'

Madame de Sagan, who had raised her eyebrows and made a little grimace at Valerie behind the Minister's back, here interposed:

'I persuaded her to travel here with me. I hope, Baron, you feel how greatly I have befriended you!'

'You will find me grateful, Madame. In the meantime, I have been sent to warn you that his Highness has already arrived at the foot of the hill, and to beg you to descend to the great hall, where the Count is waiting to receive him.'

'Come, Valerie,' said the Countess, with a little catch in her breath, and an added fleck of colour in her soft cheeks.

The great hall was half-filled with servants and retainers, ranged according to the fashion, which has obtained at Sagan during the memory of man, for the ceremonious reception of the reigning Duke. Half a dozen huntsmen held in leash as many couples of huge boarhounds at one side of the hall; on the other, servants, carrying gold trays of refreshments, stood in line. Above these, again, clustered the numerous guests who had already arrived.

As the Countess, looking very young and fair and slender, walked down the centre, Sagan, who had been draining a goblet of wine, thrust the cup back upon the tray, and catching his wife's hand roughly, said, with an audible oath:

'You're late.'

She shrank back, suppressing a cry, from his angry grasp; but few had time to notice the incident, for the outer door clanged back upon its hinges to admit the Duke, who, shivering in his furs, entered upon the arm of Colendorp.