CHAPTER XVII
A DASTARDLY SCHEME
AS soon as I reached home I despatched a servant in hot haste for Zoiloff, and when he arrived I told him what had happened.
“He forced the quarrel on you?” he asked.
“Certainly. I was willing enough, Heaven knows; but there was not a man in the room who would not have to say that I bore his insults till I must have seemed all but a coward. But I wanted to make this thing a life and death affair. And it is that.”
“You will kill him?” he asked, his dark eyes glowing.
“If I can,” I replied, shortly and sternly.
“Good. But Heaven knows what will happen afterwards. Though if the thing gets wind your meeting may be prevented. Old Kolfort will be mad; and if he had a tool there, as is most probable, you may be arrested before morning.”
“I never thought of that, or I would have finished the thing on the spot.”
“And gained the reputation of having killed a man in his cups. Thank Heaven you didn’t think of it. I suppose the man means to fight, but, like his master, Kolfort, he’s such a snake you never know what he does mean till he has done it.”
“No man who spoke as he did could hope to escape a fight,” I replied, growing uneasy at his words. “What do you suspect? After a blow, too, he must fight.”
“He’s the sort of man who’d be capable of anything. He might insult you openly like that, send the challenge, and then have you seized secretly and shut up, and when you didn’t appear on the ground in the morning, post you for a coward. I know him.”
“It would be an infernal move!” I cried hotly.
“It would be reckoned a smart Russian trick,” said Zoiloff drily.
“Then, we’ll checkmate it. We’ll have enough men here to make my arrest impossible; or, better still, perhaps I’ll pass the night somewhere else. You and Spernow can arrange all the preliminaries of the meeting, and appoint a meeting somewhere to-morrow morning, but not fix the actual ground until that appointment is kept by him and his seconds only. I will be where you can readily fetch me.”
“Good! Yes, we’ll do that. You’ll have choice of weapons. What shall they be? I should choose pistols. You’re sure to kill him.”
“He shall have a chance to save his life. We’ll have swords. But, mind, the fight is to be to the death. No stopping for a trickle of blood!”
“That’s the spirit I like,” cried Zoiloff bluntly; and then we discussed the plan I had suggested. He told me where I could sleep and he and Spernow could find me in the morning.
“I should be off at once if I were you—and, mind, get a night’s rest. You’ll need all your skill, even if we succeed in bringing him up to the scratch.”
“I’ll go the moment Spernow arrives.”
“Then take my advice. Let your people have a horse saddled at once and kept in readiness close to some back way out. I know these Russian dodges.”
I adopted the suggestion at once, and, sending for my head groom, Markov, told him to saddle my horse and his, where to station himself, and to be prepared to be away with me for the night; and, lastly, to hold his tongue. After that I changed hurriedly into an undress uniform, got together the one or two things I should need, and joined Zoiloff.
“I don’t like this long wait,” he said impatiently. “I seem to smell something wrong. Why do they keep Spernow like this? I should go, Count, if I were you.”
“I can’t go till I know the man’s making a show of fighting, at any rate.”
“Picket one or two of our fellows, then, to give us warning. The house may be surrounded before we know anything has happened.”
“It isn’t necessary. The place is like a rabbit-warren; there’s an underground passage that lets out a hundred yards away, and it’s there I’ve told the man to have the horses. Half a regiment couldn’t keep me in if I wanted to get out.”
“Some infernal spy or other may have found that out;” and then, to satisfy him, I sent out half a dozen men to keep watch.
A quarter of an hour later Spernow arrived, but not before Zoiloff’s patience had long given out. Spernow explained that the delay had been caused at the other house, and not by any fault of his own.
“Did anyone leave before you?”
“Oh, yes; the meeting broke up soon after the Count left.”
“Good-night, Count,” cried Zoiloff instantly. “Don’t lose another moment.”
“The fight is to come off?” I asked eagerly.
“Of course,” said Spernow, in surprise, not guessing our suspicions.
“Then good-night. Zoiloff will explain everything;” and as I turned to leave a servant came hurrying in, pale and excited, to say that a number of men, some in uniform, were approaching the house, and had tried to detain him. The next moment a furious summons at the front door told us they had arrived.
Before the noise had ceased to reverberate through the house, I was in the underground passage, hurrying at full speed to the place where the horses were awaiting me. Zoiloff’s suggestion that General Kolfort might know of the secret passage gave me a twinge of uneasiness, and as I paused to open the little door of outlet my fears were more than verified, for I heard the cries of men as they entered the passage from the house end. I held a revolver ready as I slipped out into the night, and at a little distance to the left I caught sight of a couple of men, just perceptible as shadows in the gloom.
Guessing that they were after me, and had not known quite where to lie in wait, I ran swiftly in the opposite direction, fortunately to the spot where I should find my horse. Once in the saddle, I did not fear pursuit. They saw me, despite all my precaution, and raised a shout, while one of them fired a pistol, presumably as a signal, and then I heard them come clattering after me.
The shot was answered by others, and the place seemed alive with men. But I was near to the horses now, and could see them in the little clump of trees where I had told Markov to wait.
“Have you seen any horsemen about?” I asked, as I sprang into the saddle.
“No, sir,” replied the groom, but at that moment the sound of galloping came from both directions.
There was going to be a tussle after all, it seemed.
“You have your pistols. If anyone tries to stop us, you have my orders to fire—but only at the horses, mind. Follow me close.”
We were on a small heath, and I pricked my horse into an easy canter in the direction I had to take to get to the place of which Zoiloff had told me.
“Halt! Who goes there?” and the horseman checked his steed with a rattle of steel that told me he was a cavalryman.
“A friend,” said I, but not drawing rein.
“Halt!” came the cry again. The horseman behind was now coming up fast, and I could hear the sounds of the others scurrying after us on foot.
“I’m in a hurry, and can’t wait,” I said.
“Halt, or I shall fire,” and I heard him get his carbine; but I was not going to be trapped by a single cavalryman, and before he had an idea of my intention I had carried it into execution.
We were nearly abreast of him, cantering easily, when I wheeled my horse around, dug the spurs into his sides, dashed right against the man who had challenged me, dragged his weapon from his hands, and flung it on the ground.
“Now,” I called to the groom, “as fast as the wind, and bend low;” and together we rattled over the heath at a pace that made pursuit hopeless, even had the two men behind been inclined for a chase. But they were not. A couple of shots were fired after us, but as the darkness hid our forms, and the grass deadened our horses’ footfalls, they were but random shots, not destined to find their billets in our bodies.
After a sharp burst for some ten minutes, I drew rein and listened. Not a sound. I had shaken off the pursuit. At the same time I deemed it advisable to take a roundabout route to our destination, and in this Markov, who knew every square inch of the country, was able to guide me.
We reached the place without further mishap; and Zoiloff’s name acted like a magic pass-word to secure the accommodation we needed. Thus my Russian friends had not even the satisfaction of robbing me of my night’s rest.
I woke in the morning, all anxiety to know how Zoiloff and Spernow had fared, what arrangements had been made, and whether, after all, we should succeed in bringing off the fight without interruption.
I could also take a clearer view of the seriousness of the attempt made to capture me on the previous night. The more I considered it the less I liked it, for I read in it a determination on the part of General Kolfort to remove me from his path, at all events, until after the marriage of the Princess. He had viewed the fact of our love as a possible stumbling-block in the path of his policy, and was resolved to deal with it in his usual drastic way; and it was easy enough to see that even after the duel he would continue to pursue me.
Zoiloff arrived while I was in this rather gloomy, meditative mood.
“I have been speculating all the night whether I should find you here, Count, for I could not learn from the men who came to your house whether they had caught you or not. They were wild at not finding you there, and ransacked the place from cellar to roof; and almost the first place they searched was that underground passage. I concluded, of course, that they would have men posted at the other end, and feared therefore that they had got you in a trap. How did you escape?”
I told him briefly what had happened, and that only his forethought had saved me.
“And what of the duel?” I concluded eagerly.
“All is right, so far, I’m glad to say. Of course, the Duke couldn’t appear to back out in the least; and his men represented him as full of fight. We had a bit of a tussle over the conditions, but I wouldn’t give way. They wanted me to fix the time and place at once; but I told them pretty plainly that to do that might be doing no more than giving an excellent appointment for making the arrest that had just failed, and, in short, that it was impossible. In the end they had no option but to agree, and we are to meet at a little village about five miles north of here at nine o’clock, and then settle the ground. What I propose is that you should ride on about a couple of miles further—I know a splendid place for a meeting there; your man will probably know the ground; and if I find no treachery in the wind I’ll bring them on. If there is anything wrong, I’ll fix another spot, and let you know somehow. But I think it’ll be all right. The men acting for him are perfectly straight.”
“Yes,” I assented readily. “It’s an excellent plan.”
“But what about afterwards? If you kill him, there will be the deuce to pay; and I should think you will have to fly the country for a while at least.”
“No, I shall go back to Sofia and face it out. Men have been killed in duels before. The fight was forced upon me, and everything’s in perfect order. Why should I run away?”
“Russian dukes are not often killed in duels, especially when so essential to Russian schemes,” he answered drily.
“I shall take my chance of the consequences. We’re not so feeble that they can do what they like to me. I shall face it out.”
“How would it be to stop short of killing him?”
“My dear Zoiloff, if you had had said to you what was said to me, you would view the thing as I do,” I said sternly, and he made no reply.
I called in my man then, and Zoiloff gave him precise instructions which way we were to ride, and where to wait; and soon afterwards he started to meet the duke and his seconds. I mounted within a few minutes of his departure, and as I rode at an easy pace I was very thoughtful, though exultant at the prospect of the encounter.
It was a glorious morning. The sun was hot and bright, but a fresh, invigorating breeze was blowing, and the country looked beautiful. The hardy, stalwart peasantry, men and women alike, were at work everywhere in the fields, toiling with that industry for which they are famed in all the East; and, save that here and there were to be seen the ruined homesteads which told their grim story of the fearful struggle of a few years previously, the landscape seemed redolent of the new blessing of content which the better rule of the Prince had brought in its train, and full of the promise of prosperity, if only the ban of political intrigue could be removed—certainly a land of promise with a great future under a ruler with such high ideals and motives as Christina.
As I thought of it, she seemed farther removed from me than ever. She loved me, and the knowledge was ineffably sweet; but it was a love that could have no fruition; and my face darkened as I thought of the man who was to come between us—not only to thwart our love, but also to stand between her and the realisation of the dream and hopes of her life for these people. My heart was as iron towards him; and the bare thought of his foul treachery in this dastardly attempt to have me branded as a coward—for I did not hesitate to accept that theory of his act—filled me with an irresistible impulse to take his life. I recalled his burning words of insult and contumely, and dwelt upon them till they stabbed and pricked and stung me to a madness of passion and loathing.
We reached the little village in good time, and halted at the trysting spot to wait for news from Zoiloff. This was so long in coming that my patience was ebbing fast, until I saw Spernow approaching at a hand gallop.
“All is arranged, Count,” he said, after I had greeted him. “You are to ride back about half a mile along the road I have come. There is no sign of any interference. But I have something for you.” He drew a small note from his pocket and handed it to me, and turned away to speak to my servant.
I opened it quickly, little guessing the contents:
“I have heard the terrible news of your quarrel with the Duke Sergius, and that you are to meet to-morrow. God preserve you from danger. I am going to ask you the hardest favour that could be put in words. I know of your skill, and of the terrible provocation you have received, but I beg you not to have his death on your soul. Think of what it must mean to us all—to me. For him to be killed by you. I pray you, for my sake.—CHRISTINA.”
I stared at the lines in a fever of distraction. At the very moment when the cup was at my lips, it was to be dashed away. Just when I had fed my passion, and had been goaded by the remembrance of the man’s foul acts and insults to a vow of implacable vengeance, I was to do nothing.
I could not grant the wish. The man deserved to die, and die he should if my arm were strong enough. I could not, I would not, let him escape me. He had forced the quarrel, and it must go through. It was a just cause, and I was in the right throughout; and I crushed the paper in my clenched hand and vowed the request was impossible.
Yet how could I face her afterwards and say, “I had your plea and would not hearken to it!” Was ever man more plagued? I paced up and down the turf fighting the fight between my thirst for vengeance and my love for Christina with its desire to grant her wish; and never had I fought a harder battle.
My love won, of course. I had no motives in life but those which were inspired by my love for her; and the thought of myself, appearing red-handed before her, and of her turning from me in abhorrence, or gazing at me with eyes of reproach to bid me never see her again since I cared so little as not to grant her wishes, was unbearable. But it was hard, cruelly hard; and I could have ground my teeth in the stress of my keen disappointment.
I questioned Spernow as we rode together, and he told me that Mademoiselle Broumoff had given him the letter, and that it was to be destroyed as soon as read.
I tore it to shreds and scattered them on the passing wind, with a smile half bitterness, half love; though I would fain have kept the letter near my heart. Then I fell moody and silent. There was more in the request than Christina had foreseen. It was not unlikely to prove my death warrant. To go into a fight with so expert a swordsman as Duke Sergius was dangerous enough under any circumstances and at any time. But to fight him while bound to act only on the defensive, and to refrain, too, from taking advantage of such openings as he might give, magnified the danger many times, and must make the issue less than doubtful for me. The fight was to be to the death, or till one of us was so wounded as to be unable to continue it, and it was clear that, if I was not to attempt to wound him, it was I who must be struck down.
It was certain, too, that so expert a fencer as he would soon perceive that I was not going to press him, and thus he could fight at his ease and wait to pick out the moment when he could most easily plunge his sword into my heart.
If I escaped with my life, too, I had to suffer the humiliation of defeat at his hands; and I groaned in spirit at the bondage which my love imposed.
And yet I blessed the gentleness, little regardful of me though it was, that had inspired the plea.
When we came in sight of the others, who were already waiting for us, my mind was made up and my decision taken. The Duke should live, even if it cost me my life.