A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

The Strong Arm

R >> Robert Barr >> The Strong Arm




Rego leaned panting over the stone coping, listening for the thud of
the body. Then was he frozen with horror when the still night air was
split with the most appalling shriek of combined human voice in an
agony of fear that ever tortured the ear of man. The shriek ended in a
terrorising crash far below, and silence again filled the valley.




"GENTLEMEN: THE KING!"


The room was large, but with a low ceiling, and at one end of the
lengthy, broad apartment stood a gigantic fireplace, in which was
heaped a pile of blazing logs, whose light, rather than that of several
lanterns hanging from nails along the timbered walls, illuminated the
faces of the twenty men who sat within. Heavy timbers, blackened with
age and smoke, formed the ceiling. The long, low, diamond-paned window
in the middle of the wall opposite the door, had been shuttered as
completely as possible, but less care than usual was taken to prevent
the light from penetrating into the darkness beyond, for the night was
a stormy and tempestuous one, the rain lashing wildly against the
hunting châlet, which, in its time, had seen many a merry hunting party
gathered under its ample roof.

Every now and then a blast of wind shook the wooden edifice from garret
to foundation, causing a puff of smoke to come down the chimney, and
the white ashes to scatter in little whirlwinds over the hearth. On the
opposite side from the shuttered window was the door, heavily barred. A
long, oaken table occupied the centre of the room, and round this in
groups, seated and standing, were a score of men, all with swords at
their sides; bearing, many of them, that air of careless hauteur which
is supposed to be a characteristic of noble birth.

Flagons were scattered upon the table, and a barrel of wine stood in a
corner of the room farthest from the fireplace, but it was evident that
this was no ordinary drinking party, and that the assemblage was
brought about by some high purport, of a nature so serious that it
stamped anxiety on every brow. No servants were present, and each man
who wished a fresh flagon of wine had to take his measure to the barrel
in the corner and fill for himself.

The hunting châlet stood in a wilderness, near the confines of the
kingdom of Alluria, twelve leagues from the capital, and was the
property of Count Staumn, whose tall, gaunt form stood erect at the
head of the table as he silently listened to the discussion which every
moment was becoming more and more heated, the principal speaking parts
being taken by the obstinate, rough-spoken Baron Brunfels, on the one
hand, and the crafty, fox-like ex-Chancellor Steinmetz on the other.

"I tell you," thundered Baron Brunfels, bringing his fist down on the
table, "I will not have the King killed. Such a proposal goes beyond
what was intended when we banded ourselves together. The King is a
fool, so let him escape like a fool. I am a conspirator, but not an
assassin."

"It is justice rather than assassination," said the ex-Chancellor
suavely, as if his tones were oil and the Baron's boisterous talk were
troubled waters.

"Justice!" cried the Baron, with great contempt. "You have learned that
cant word in the Cabinet of the King himself, before he thrust you out.
He eternally prates of justice, yet, much as I loathe him, I have no
wish to compass his death, either directly or through gabbling of
justice."

"Will you permit me to point out the reason that induces me to believe
his continued exemption, and State policy, will not run together?"
replied the advocate of the King's death. "If Rudolph escape, he will
take up his abode in a neighbouring territory, and there will
inevitably follow plots and counter-plots for his restoration--thus
Alluria will be kept in a state of constant turmoil. There will
doubtless grow up within the kingdom itself a party sworn to his
restoration. We shall thus be involved in difficulties at home and
abroad, and all for what? Merely to save the life of a man who is an
enemy to each of us. We place thousands of lives in jeopardy, render
our own positions insecure, bring continual disquiet upon the State,
when all might be avoided by the slitting of one throat, even though
that throat belong to the King."

It was evident that the lawyer's persuasive tone brought many to his
side, and the conspirators seemed about evenly divided upon the
question of life or death to the King. The Baron was about to break out
again with some strenuousness in favour of his own view of the matter,
when Count Staumn made a proposition that was eagerly accepted by all
save Brunfels himself.

"Argument," said Count Staumn, "is ever the enemy of good comradeship.
Let us settle the point at once and finally, with the dice-box. Baron
Brunfels, you are too seasoned a gambler to object to such a mode of
terminating a discussion. Steinmetz, the law, of which you are so
distinguished a representative, is often compared to a lottery, so you
cannot look with disfavour upon a method that is conclusive, and as
reasonably fair as the average decision of a judge. Let us throw,
therefore, for the life of the King. I, as chairman of this meeting,
will be umpire. Single throws, and the highest number wins. Baron
Brunfels, you will act for the King, and, if you win, may bestow upon
the monarch his life. Chancellor Steinmetz stands for the State. If he
wins, then is the King's life forfeit. Gentlemen, are you agreed?"

"Agreed, agreed," cried the conspirators, with practically unanimous
voice.

Baron Brunfels grumbled somewhat, but when the dice-horn was brought,
and he heard the rattle of the bones within the leathern cylinder, the
light of a gambler's love shone in his eyes, and he made no further
protest.

The ex-Chancellor took the dice-box in his hand, and was about to
shake, when there came suddenly upon them three stout raps against the
door, given apparently with the hilt of a sword. Many not already
standing, started to their feet, and nearly all looked one upon another
with deep dismay in their glances. The full company of conspirators was
present; exactly a score of men knew of the rendezvous, and now the
twenty-first man outside was beating the oaken panels. The knocking was
repeated, but now accompanied by the words:

"Open, I beg of you."

Count Staumn left the table and, stealthily as a cat, approached the
door.

"Who is there?" he asked.

"A wayfarer, weary and wet, who seeks shelter from the storm."

"My house is already filled," spoke up the Count. "I have no room for
another."

"Open the door peacefully," cried the outlander, "and do not put me to
the necessity of forcing it."

There was a ring of decision in the voice which sent quick pallor to
more than one cheek. Ex-Chancellor Steinmetz rose to his feet with
chattering teeth, and terror in his eyes; he seemed to recognise the
tones of the invisible speaker. Count Staumn looked over his shoulder
at the assemblage with an expression that plainly said: "What am I to
do?"

"In the fiend's name," hissed Baron Brunfels, taking the precaution,
however, to speak scarce above his breath, "if you are so frightened
when it comes to a knock at the door, what will it be when the real
knocks are upon you. Open, Count, and let the insistent stranger in.
Whether he leave the place alive or no, there are twenty men here to
answer."

The Count undid the fastenings and threw back the door. There entered a
tall man completely enveloped in a dark cloak that was dripping wet.
Drawn over his eyes was a hunter's hat of felt, with a drooping
bedraggled feather on it.

The door was immediately closed and barred behind him, and the
stranger, pausing a moment when confronted by so many inquiring eyes,
flung off his cloak, throwing it over the back of a chair; then he
removed his hat with a sweep, sending the raindrops flying. The
intriguants gazed at him, speechless, with varying emotions. They saw
before them His Majesty, Rudolph, King of Alluria.

If the King had any suspicion of his danger, he gave no token of it. On
his smooth, lofty forehead there was no trace of frown, and no sign of
fear. His was a manly figure, rather over, than under, six feet in
height; not slim and gaunt, like Count Staumn, nor yet stout to excess,
like Baron Brunfels. The finger of Time had touched with frost the hair
at his temples, and there were threads of white in his pointed beard,
but his sweeping moustache was still as black as the night from which
he came.

His frank, clear, honest eyes swept the company, resting momentarily on
each, then he said in a firm voice, without the suspicion of a tremor
in it: "Gentlemen, I give you good evening, and although the
hospitality of Count Staumn has needed spurring, I lay that not up
against him, because I am well aware his apparent reluctance arose
through the unexpectedness of my visit; and, if the Count will act as
cup-bearer, we will drown all remembrance of a barred door in a flagon
of wine, for, to tell truth, gentlemen, I have ridden hard in order to
have the pleasure of drinking with you."

As the King spoke these ominous words, he cast a glance of piercing
intensity upon the company, and more than one quailed under it. He
strode to the fireplace, spurs jingling as he went, and stood with his
back to the fire, spreading out his hands to the blaze. Count Staumn
left the bolted door, took an empty flagon from the shelf, filled it at
the barrel in the corner, and, with a low bow, presented the brimming
measure to the King.

Rudolph held aloft his beaker of Burgundy, and, as he did so, spoke in
a loud voice that rang to the beams of the ceiling:

"Gentlemen, I give you a suitable toast. May none here gathered
encounter a more pitiless storm than that which is raging without!"

With this he drank off the wine, and, inclining his head slightly to
the Count, returned the flagon. No one, save the King, had spoken since
he entered. Every word he had uttered seemed charged with double
meaning and brought to the suspicious minds of his hearers visions of a
trysting place surrounded by troops, and the King standing there,
playing with them, as a tiger plays with its victims. His easy
confidence appalled them.

When first he came in, several who were seated remained so, but one by
one they rose to their feet, with the exception of Baron Brunfels,
although he, when the King gave the toast, also stood. It was clear
enough their glances of fear were not directed towards the King, but
towards Baron Brunfels. Several pairs of eyes beseeched him in silent
supplication, but the Baron met none of these glances, for his gaze was
fixed upon the King.

Every man present knew the Baron to be reckless of consequences;
frankly outspoken, thoroughly a man of the sword, and a despiser of
diplomacy. They feared that at any moment he might blurt out the
purport of the meeting, and more than one was thankful for the crafty
ex-Chancellor's planning, who throughout had insisted there should be
no documentary evidence of their designs, either in their houses or on
their persons. Some startling rumour must have reached the King's ear
to bring him thus unexpectedly upon them.

The anxiety of all was that some one should persuade the King they were
merely a storm-besieged hunting party. They trembled in anticipation of
Brunfels' open candor, and dreaded the revealing of the real cause of
their conference. There was now no chance to warn the Baron; a man who
spoke his mind; who never looked an inch beyond his nose, even though
his head should roll off in consequence, and if a man does not value
his own head, how can he be expected to care for the heads of his
neighbours?

"I ask you to be seated," said the King, with a wave of the hand.

Now, what should that stubborn fool of a Baron do but remain standing,
when all but Rudolph and himself had seated themselves, thus drawing
His Majesty's attention directly towards him, and making a colloquy
between them well-nigh inevitable. Those next the ex-Chancellor were
nudging him, in God's name, to stand also, and open whatever discussion
there must ensue between themselves and His Majesty, so that it might
be smoothly carried on, but the Chancellor was ashen grey with fear,
and his hand trembled on the table.

"My Lord of Brunfels," said the King, a smile hovering about his lips,
"I see that I have interrupted you at your old pleasure of dicing;
while requesting you to continue your game as though I had not joined
you, may I venture to hope the stakes you play for are not high?"

Every one held his breath, awaiting with deepest concern the reply of
the frowning Baron, and when it came growling forth, there was little
in it to ease their disquiet.

"Your Majesty," said Baron Brunfels, "the stakes are the highest that a
gambler may play for."

"You tempt me, Baron, to guess that the hazard is a man's soul, but I
see that your adversary is my worthy ex-Chancellor, and as I should
hesitate to impute to him the character of the devil, I am led,
therefore, to the conclusion that you play for a human life. Whose life
is in the cast, my Lord of Brunfels?"

Before the Baron could reply, ex-Chancellor Steinmetz arose, with some
indecision, to his feet. He began in a trembling voice:

"I beg your gracious permission to explain the reason of our gathering
--"

"Herr Steinmetz," cried the King sternly, "when I desire your
interference I shall call for it; and remember this, Herr Steinmetz;
the man who begins a game must play it to the end, even though he finds
luck running against him."

The ex-Chancellor sat down again, and drew his hand across his damp
forehead.

"Your Majesty," spoke up the Baron, a ring of defiance in his voice, "I
speak not for my comrades, but for myself. I begin no game that I fear
to finish. We were about dice in order to discover whether Your Majesty
should live or die."

A simultaneous moan seemed to rise from the assembled traitors. The
smile returned to the King's lips.

"Baron," he said, "I have ever chided myself for loving you, for you
were always a bad example to weak and impressionable natures. Even when
your overbearing, obstinate intolerance compelled me to dismiss you
from the command of my army, I could not but admire your sturdy
honesty. Had I been able to graft your love of truth upon some of my
councillors, what a valuable group of advisers might I have gathered
round me. But we have had enough of comedy and now tragedy sets in.
Those who are traitors to their ruler must not be surprised if a double
traitor is one of their number. Why am I here? Why do two hundred
mounted and armed men surround this doomed châlet? Miserable wretches,
what have you to say that judgment be not instantly passed upon you?"

"I have this to say," roared Baron Brunfels, drawing his sword, "that
whatever may befall this assemblage, you, at least, shall not live to
boast of it."

The King stood unmoved as Baron Brunfels was about to rush upon him,
but Count Staumn and others threw themselves between the Baron and his
victim, seeing in the King's words some intimation of mercy to be held
out to them, could but actual assault upon his person be prevented.

"My Lord of Brunfels," said the King, calmly, "sheath your sword. Your
ancestors have often drawn it, but always for, and never against the
occupant of the Throne. Now, gentlemen, hear my decision, and abide
faithfully by it. Seat yourselves at the table, ten on each side, the
dice-box between you. You shall not be disappointed, but shall play out
the game of life and death. Each dices with his opposite. He who throws
the higher number escapes. He who throws the lower places his weapons
on the empty chair, and stands against yonder wall to be executed for
the traitor that he is. Thus half of your company shall live, and the
other half seek death with such courage as may be granted them. Do you
agree, or shall I give the signal?"

With unanimous voice they agreed, all excepting Baron Brunfels, who
spoke not.

"Come, Baron, you and my devoted ex-Chancellor were about to play when
I came in. Begin the game."

"Very well," replied the Baron nonchalantly. "Steinmetz, the dice-box
is near your hand: throw."

Some one placed the cubes in the leathern cup and handed it to the ex-
Chancellor, whose shivering fingers relieved him of the necessity of
shaking the box. The dice rolled out on the table; a three, a four, and
a one. Those nearest reported the total.

"Eight!" cried the King. "Now, Baron."

Baron Brunfels carelessly threw the dice into their receptacle, and a
moment after the spotted bones clattered on the table.

"Three sixes!" cried the Baron. "Lord, if I only had such luck when I
played for money!"

The ex-Chancellor's eyes were starting from his head, wild with fear.

"We have three throws," he screamed.

"Not so," said the King.

"I swear I understood that we were to have three chances," shrieked
Steinmetz, springing from his chair. "But it is all illegal, and not to
be borne. I will not have my life diced away to please either King or
commons."

He drew his sword and placed himself in an attitude of defence.

"Seize him; disarm him, and bind him," commanded the King. "There are
enough gentlemen in this company to see that the rules of the game are
adhered to."

Steinmetz, struggling and pleading for mercy, was speedily overpowered
and bound; then his captors placed him against the wall, and resumed
their seats at the table. The next man to be doomed was Count Staumn.
The Count arose from his chair, bowed first to the King and then to the
assembled company; drew forth his sword, broke it over his knee, and
walked to the wall of the condemned.

The remainder of the fearful contest was carried on in silence, but
with great celerity, and before a quarter of an hour was past, ten men
had their backs to the wall, while the remaining ten were seated at the
table, some on one side, and some on the other.

The men ranged against the wall were downcast, for however bravely a
soldier may meet death in hostile encounter, it is a different matter
to face it bound and helpless at the hands of an executioner.

A shade of sadness seemed to overspread the countenance of the King,
who still occupied the position he had taken at the first, with his
back towards the fire.

Baron Brunfels shifted uneasily in his seat, and glanced now and then
with compassion at his sentenced comrades. He was first to break the
silence.

"Your Majesty," he said, "I am always loath to see a coward die. The
whimpering of your former Chancellor annoys me; therefore, will I
gladly take his place, and give to him the life and liberty you perhaps
design for me, if, in exchange, I have the privilege of speaking my
mind regarding you and your precious Kingship."

"Unbind the valiant Steinmetz," said the King. "Speak your mind freely,
Baron Brunfels."

The Baron rose, drew sword from scabbard, and placed it on the table.

"Your Majesty, backed by brute force," he began, "has condemned to
death ten of your subjects. You have branded us as traitors, and such
we are, and so find no fault with your sentence; merely recognising
that you represent, for the time being, the upper hand. You have
reminded me that my ancestors fought for yours, and that they never
turned their swords against their sovereign. Why, then, have our blades
been pointed towards your breast? Because, King Rudolph, you are
yourself a traitor. You belong to the ruling class and have turned your
back upon your order. You, a King, have made yourself a brother to the
demagogue at the street corner; yearning for the cheap applause of the
serf. You have shorn nobility of its privileges, and for what?"

"And for what?" echoed the King with rising voice. "For this; that the
ploughman on the plain may reap what he has sown; that the shepherd on
the hillside may enjoy the increase which comes to his flock; that
taxation may be light; that my nobles shall deal honestly with the
people, and not use their position for thievery and depredation; that
those whom the State honours by appointing to positions of trust shall
content themselves with the recompense lawfully given, and refrain from
peculation; that peace and security shall rest on the land; and that
bloodthirsty swashbucklers shall not go up and down inciting the people
to carnage and rapine under the name of patriotism. This is the task I
set myself when I came to the Throne. What fault have you to find with
the programme, my Lord Baron?"

"The simple fault that it is the programme of a fool," replied the
Baron calmly. "In following it you have gained the resentment of your
nobles, and have not even received the thanks of those pitiable hinds,
the ploughman in the valley or the shepherd on the hills. You have
impoverished us so that the clowns may have a few more coins with which
to muddle in drink their already stupid brains. You are hated in cot
and castle alike. You would not stand in your place for a moment, were
not an army behind you. Being a fool, you think the common people love
honesty, whereas, they only curse that they have not a share in the
thieving."

"The people," said the King soberly, "have been misled. Their ear has
been abused by calumny and falsehood. Had it been possible for me
personally to explain to them the good that must ultimately accrue to a
land where honesty rules, I am confident I would have had their
undivided support, even though my nobles deserted me."

"Not so, Your Majesty; they would listen to you and cheer you, but when
the next orator came among them, promising to divide the moon, and give
a share to each, they would gather round his banner and hoot you from
the kingdom. What care they for rectitude of government? They see no
farther than the shining florin that glitters on their palm. When your
nobles were rich, they came to their castles among the people, and
scattered their gold with a lavish hand. Little recked the peasants how
it was got, so long as they shared it. 'There,' they said, 'the coin
comes to us that we have not worked for.'

"But now, with castles deserted, and retainers dismissed, the people
have to sweat to wring from traders the reluctant silver, and they cry:
'Thus it was not in times of old, and this King is the cause of it,'
and so they spit upon your name, and shrug their shoulders, when your
honesty is mentioned. And now, Rudolph of Alluria, I have done, and I
go the more jauntily to my death that I have had fair speech with you
before the end."

The King looked at the company, his eyes veiled with moisture. "I
thought," he said slowly, "until to-night, that I had possessed some
qualities at least of a ruler of men. I came here alone among you, and
although there are brave men in this assembly, yet I had the ordering
of events as I chose to order them, notwithstanding that odds stood a
score to one against me. I still venture to think that whatever
failures have attended my eight years' rule in Alluria arose from
faults of my own, and not through imperfections in the plan, or want of
appreciation in the people.

"I have now to inform you that if it is disastrous for a King to act
without the co-operation of his nobles, it is equally disastrous for
them to plot against their leader. I beg to acquaint you with the fact
that the insurrection so carefully prepared has broken out prematurely.
My capital is in possession of the factions, who are industriously
cutting each other's throats to settle which one of two smooth-tongued
rascals shall be their President. While you were dicing to settle the
fate of an already deposed King, and I was sentencing you to a mythical
death, we were all alike being involved in common ruin.

"I have seen to-night more property in flames than all my savings
during the last eight years would pay for. I have no horsemen at my
back, and have stumbled here blindly, a much bedraggled fugitive,
having lost my way in every sense of the phrase. And so I beg of the
hospitality of Count Staumn another flagon of wine, and either a place
of shelter for my patient horse, who has been left too long in the
storm without, or else direction towards the frontier, whereupon my
horse and I will set out to find it."

"Not towards the frontier!" cried Baron Brunfels, grasping again his
sword and holding it aloft, "but towards the capital. We will surround
you, and hew for you a way through that fickle mob back to the throne
of your ancestors."

Each man sprang to his weapon and brandished it above his head, while a
ringing cheer echoed to the timbered ceiling.

"The King! The King!" they cried.

Rudolph smiled and shook his head.

"Not so," he said. "I leave a thankless throne with a joy I find it
impossible to express. As I sat on horseback, half-way up the hill
above the burning city, and heard the clash of arms, I was filled with
amazement to think that men would actually fight for the position of
ruler of the people. Whether the insurrection has brought freedom to
themselves or not, the future alone can tell, but it has at least
brought freedom to me. I now belong to myself. No man may question
either my motives or my acts. Gentlemen, drink with me to the new
President of Alluria, whoever he may be."

Copyright (c) 2007. famouswriterz.com. All rights reserved.