Wasn't there, though! I kept my face smooth, but underneath I was beginning to smart with hurt and anger. I hadn't asked to be embroiled in the politics of their tin-pot little duchy, but I had been bloody near killed more times than I could count, cut and wounded and half-drowned, scared out of my wits—and all I was getting at the end of it was the sneers of Sapten and the handshake of his blasted highness. Ten minutes before I had been thankful to come out with a whole skin, but suddenly now I felt full of spite and anger towards them,
There was a bit of mumbling and grumbling, but it was all hypocrisy; indeed, I don't doubt that if Carl Gustaf had been given an hour or two longer to recover from the scare he had had, and his consequent gratitude to me, he would have been ready to listen to a suggestion from Sapten that I should be slipped back down the pipe for a second time—with my hands tied this time. After all, his face was like mine, so his character might be, too.
For the moment, though, he had the grace to look troubled; he probably thought he owed it to his princely dignity to do something for me. But he managed to fight it down—they usually do— and the upshot of it was that they agreed that I should ride out as quickly as possible. They would stay where they were for the night, so that his highness could rest and take counsel, and there was a broad hint that I had better be over the frontier by morning. Grundvig seemed the only one who was unhappy about my sudden dismissal; he was an odd one, that, and I gathered from what he said that he alone had come round to the view that I was more sinned against than sinning. He actually seemed rather sorry for me, and he was the one who eventually escorted me up from that dungeon, and ordered a horse to be found, and stood with me in the castle gateway while they went to the mainland for it.
"I am a father, too, you see," says he, pacing up and down. "I understand what it must mean to a man, when his loved ones are torn from him, and used as hostages against him. Who knows? I, too, might have acted as you did. I trust I should have behaved as bravely when the time came."
Silly bastard, I thought, that's all you know. I asked him what had happened to Rudi, and he said he didn't know. They had seen him vanish through a side door in the outer cell, and had given chase, but had lost him in the castle. Presumably he knew its bolt-holes, and had got away. I didn't care for the sound of this, but it was long odds I wouldn't run into him again, anyway. I wasn't planning on lingering—just long enough for the notion that was beginning to form in my mind.
Then one of the peasants returned with a horse, and a cloak for me. I asked a few directions of Grundvig, accepted a flask and a pouch of bread and cheese, and swung into the saddle. Just the feel of the horse moving under me was heartening; I could hardly wait to be away from that beastly place and everything in it.
Grundvig didn't shake hands, but he waved solemnly, and then I turned the horse's head, touched her with my heel, and clattered away across the bridge, out of the lives of Carl Gustaf, the Sons of the Volsungs, Old Uncle Tom Cobley, and all. I took the Strackenz City road, and never looked back at the cold pile of Jotunberg. I hope they all caught pneumonia.
9
You would think, no doubt, that after what I had gone through, I would have no thought but to go out of Strackenz and Germany as fast as a clean pair of heels could take me. Looking back, I wonder that I had any other notion, but the truth is that I did. It's a queer thing; while I'm the sorriest coward in moments of danger, there is no doubt that escape produces an exhilaration in me. Perhaps it is simple reaction; perhaps I become light-headed; perhaps it is that in my many aftermaths I have usually had the opportunity of some strong drink—as I had now—and that all three combine to produce a spirit of folly. God knows it isn't courage, but I wish I had a guinea for every time I've come through some hellish crisis, babbling thankfully to be still alive—and then committed some idiocy which I wouldn't dare to contemplate in a rational moment.
And in this case I was angry, too. To be harried and bullied and exposed to awful danger—and then just cut adrift with hardly a thank-you-damn-your-eyes from a man who, but for me, would have been feeding the fishes—God, I found myself hating that shilly-shally Carl Gustaf, and that sour-faced old turd Sapten— aye, and that mealy Grundvig, with his pious maundering. I'd pay them out, by gum, would I. And it would be poetic justice, too, in a way—Bismarck had promised me a grand reward; well, I'd come out of Strackenz with something for my pains.
And, of course, it was really safe enough. There was hardly any risk at all, for I had a certain start of several hours, and I'd know how to cover my tracks. By God, I'd show them; they'd learn that a little gratitude would have been starvation cheap. I could do their dirty work for them, and then I could just piss off, could I? They'd learn to think a little more of Harry Flashman than that, the mean bastards.
So I reasoned, in my logical way. But the main thing was, I was sure there was no danger in what I intended. And what is there, I ask you, that a man will not dare, so long as he has a fast horse and a clear road out of town?
The night sky was just beginning to lighten when I came to Strackenz City, with the dawn wind rustling the trees along the landstrasse. The suburbs were quiet as I cantered through, my hooves ringing on the cobbles; I skirted the old city to come to the ducal palace, where two sleepy sentries stared open-mouthed at me through the railings.
"Oeffnen!" says I, and while one tried to present arms and dropped his musket, the other made haste to swing open the gates. I clattered through, leaving them to marvel at the sight of their new prince, whose absence must have been the talk of the duchy, arriving unkempt and unshaven at this hour of the day.
There were more guards at the door, to whom I gave sharp orders to have a strong horse saddled and ready for me within ten minutes. I issued further instructions that no one was on any account to be allowed to leave the palace, nor was anyone to be admitted without reference to me. They saluted and stamped and fell over themselves in their hurry to obey; one flung open the doors for me, and I strode masterfully into the hall—this was going to be easy, thinks I.
A sleepy major-domo or night porter came starting out of the chair where he had been dozing; he cried out at the sight of me, and would have roused the place, but I hushed him with a word.
"Send someone to the kitchens," says I. "Get them to put together such cold foods as will go into a saddle-bag, and bring it here. Also some wine and a flask of spirits. Oh, and some money— bring a purse. Now, go."
"Your highness is riding out again?" quavers he.
"Yes," I snapped. "Beeilen sie sich."
"But, highness … . I have instructions … her highness the duchess must be informed."
"The duchess? She's here? Not at Streihow?"
"No, indeed, sir. She returned last night, after … after you were not to be found." His eyes were round with fright. "There has been terrible concern, highness. Orders have been issued that if word came about you, her highness was to know at once."
I hadn't counted on this she ought to have been at Strelhow still, damn her. It complicated matters—or did it? I stood thinking quickly, while the major-domo hopped from one foot to the other, and made up my mind.
"Well, I'll tell her myself," says I. "Now, my good fellow, do exactly as I have told you—and the less said about my return the better—understand?"
I left him chattering obedience, and went up the great staircase four at a time, and strode along to the duchess's apartments. There were the usual yellow-jacketed sentries at her door, stiffening to attention at the sight of me, and rolling their eyes in astonishment—wouldn't have done for the 11th Hussars, I'll tell you. I thumped on the panels, and after a moment a feminine voice called out sleepily: "Wer klopft?"