Royal Flash fp-2 Read online

  "You may feel the need of something when you get out of the water," he added. "Eat and drink if chance serves. Now, then, Mr Thomas Arnold, attend to me. From here we ride to the Jotunsee, which will take us the best part of three hours. There the boat is waiting, with two stout men at the oars; they will take you as close to the castle as seems advisable—there is a moon, but we can't help that. The clouds are thick, so you should get close in unobserved. Then you swim for it—and remember, they will be watching and listening in yonder."

  He let me digest this, his head cocked and his hands thrust deep in his pockets—strange how these pictures stay with one—and then went on:

  "Once inside the castle, Hansen is in command, you understand? He will decide how to proceed—who is to guard the prince, who to lower the bridge. So far as we know, it is wound up and down by a windlass. Knock out the pin and the bridge will fall. That will be our signal to storm the causeway—fifty men, led by myself and Grundvig here." He paused, pulling out his pouch. "It is not our intention to leave any survivors of the garrison."

  "They must all die," says Grundvig solemnly.

  "To the last man," says Hansen.

  It seemed to call for something from me, so I said: "Hear, hear."

  "Serve us well in this," added Sapten, "and the past will be forgotten. Try to play us false—" He left it unspoken. "Now, is all clear?"

  It was clear, right enough, all too clear; I did my best not to think of it. I didn't want to know any more dreadful details— indeeed, the only question in my mind was a completely unimportant one, and had nothing to do with what lay ahead. But I was curious, so I asked it.

  "Tell me," I said to Hansen. "Back in Strackenz City—what made you think I wasn't Carl Gustaf?"

  He stared at me in surprise. "You ask now? Very well—I was not sure. The likeness is amazing, and yet … there was something wrong. Then I knew, in an instant, what it was. Your scars are in the wrong places—the left one is too low. But there was more than that, too. I don't know—you just were not Carl Gustaf."

  "Thank'ee," says I. Poor old Bismarck—wrong again.

  "How did you come by these scars?" asked Sapten.

  "They cut them in my head with a schlager," says I, offhand, and Grundvig drew in his breath. "Oh, yes," I added to Hansen, "this is no kindergarten you are venturing into, my lad. These are very practical men, as you may discover." I was eager to take some of the bounce out of him.

  "That'll do," growls Sapten. "All ready, then? Lassen sie uns gehen."

  There were horses outside, and men moving about us in the gloom; we rode in silent cavalcade through the woods, along a path that wound upwards into the Jotun Gipfel, and then down through dense thickets of bush and bracken. There was no chance of escape, even if I had dared; two men rode at my stirrups all the way. We halted frequently—while scouts went ahead, I suppose—and I took the opportunity to sample the contents of my flask. It held brandy, about half a pint, and it was empty by the time the journey was half done. Not that it made much odds, except to warm me; I could have drunk a gallon without showing it just then.

  At last we halted and dismounted; shadowy hands took my bridle, and I was pushed forward through the bushes until I found myself on the banks of a tiny creek, with water lapping at my feet. Hansen was beside me, and there was much whispering in the dark; I could see the vague outline of a boat and its rowers, and then the moon came out from behind the clouds, and through the tangled branches at the creek's mouth I saw the choppy grey water of the lake, and rising out of it, not three furlongs off, the stark outline of Jotunberg.

  It was a sight to freeze your blood and make you think of monsters and vampires and bats squeaking in gloomy vaults—a gothic horror of dark battlements and towers with cloud-wrack behind it, silent and menacing in the moonlight. My imagination peopled it with phantom shapes waiting at its windows—and they wouldn't have been any worse than Rudi and Kraftstein. Given another moment I believe I would have sunk down helpless on the shore, but before I knew it I was in the boat, with Hansen beside me.

  "Wait for the moon to die." Sapten's hoarse whisper came out of the dark behind, and presently the light was blotted out, and Jotunberg was only a more solid shadow in the dark. But it was still there, and all the more horrid in my mind's eye. I had to grip my chin to stop my teeth chattering.

  Sapten muttered again in the gloom, the boat stirred as the dim forms of the towers moved, and we were sliding out of the creek onto the face of the Jotunsee. The breeze nipped as we broke cover, and then the bank had vanished behind us.

  It was as black as the earl of hell's weskit, and deadly silent except for the chuckle of water under our bow and the soft rustle as the oarsmen heaved. The boat rocked gently, but we were moving quite quickly, with the dim shape of the castle growing bigger and uglier every moment. It seemed to me that we were rowing dangerously close to it; I could see the faint glare of a light at one of the lower windows, and then Hansen softly said "Halt", and the oarsmen stopped rowing.

  Hansen touched my shoulder. "Ready?" I was trying to suppress the bile of panic that was welling up into my throat, so I didn't answer, "Folgen sie mir ganz nahe," says he, and then he had slipped over the side like an otter, with hardly a sound.

  For the life of me I couldn't bring myself to follow; my limbs were like jelly; I couldn't move. But petrified though I was, I knew I daren't stay either; let me refuse now, and Sapten would make cold meat of me very shortly afterwards, I leaned over the side of the boat, clumsily trying to copy Hansen, and then I had overbalanced, and with an awful, ponderous roll I came off the gunwale and plunged into the Jotunsee.

  The cold was hideous, cutting into my body like a knife, and I came up spluttering with the sheer pain of it. As I gasped for breath Hansen's face came out of the darkness, hissing at me to be quiet, his hand searching for me underwater.

  "Geben sie acht, idiot! Stop splashing!"

  "This is bloody madness!" I croaked at him. "Christ, it's midwinter, man! We'll freeze to death!"

  He grabbed my shoulder while we trod water, snarling at me to be quiet. Then, turning from the boat, he began to strike out slowly for the castle, expecting me to follow. For a second I considered the possibility, even at this late hour, of making for the shore and taking my chance in the woods, but I realised I could never swim the distance-not at this temperature, and with the sabre strapped to my back and my sodden clothes dragging at me. I had to stay with Hansen, so I struck out after him, as quietly as I could, sobbing with fear and frustration.

  God, I remember thinking, this is too bad. What the hell had I done to deserve this? Left alone I'm a harmless enough fellow, asking nothing but meat and drink and a whore or two, and not offending anyone much—why must I be punished in this hellish fashion? The cold seemed to be numbing my very guts; I knew I couldn't go much longer, and then a blinding pain shot through my left leg, and I was under water, my mouth filling as I tried to yell. Flailing with my good leg I came up, bleating for Hansen.

  "Cramp!" I whimpered. "Christ, I'll drown!" Even then, I had sense enough to keep my voice down, but it was loud enough to reach him, for next time I went under he hauled me up again, swearing fiercely at me to be quiet, and to stop thrashing about.

  "My leg! my leg!" I moaned. "Jesus, I'm done for. Save me, you selfish bastard! Oh, God, the cold!" My leg was one blinding pain, but with Hansen gripping me and holding my face above water I was able to rest until gradually it subsided to a dull ache; I stretched it cautiously, and it seemed to be working again.

  When he was sure I could swim on, he whispered that we must hurry, or the cold would get us for certain. I was almost past caring, and told him so; he and his bloody prince and Sapten and the rest of them could rot in hell for me, I said, and he struck me across the face and threatened to drown me if I didn't keep quiet.

  "It's your life, too, fool!" he hissed. "Now be silent, or we're lost."

  I called him the filthiest names I knew (in a whisper), and th
en he swam on, with me behind him, striking out feebly enough, but it wasn't far now; another couple of freezing minutes and we were under the lee of the castle wall, where it seemed to rise sheer out of the water, and there wasn't a sight or sound to suggest we had been heard.

  Hansen trod water in front of me, and when I came up with him he pointed ahead, and I saw what seemed to be a shadowy opening at the foot of the wall.

  "There," says he. "Silence."

  "I can't take much more of this," I whispered feebly. "I'll freeze, I tell you—I'm dying—I know I am. God damn you, you scabby-headed Danish swine, you … wait for me!"

  He was swimming slowly into the gap in the wall; and at that moment the moon chose to come out again, striking its cold light on the rearing battlement above us, and showing that the gap was in fact a tiny harbour, cut out of the rock of the Jotunberg itself. To the left and ahead it was enclosed by the castle wall; to the right the wall seemed to be ruined, and there were dark areas of shadow where the moonlight didn't penetrate.

  I felt a chill that was not from the water as I paddled slowly towards it; exhausted and shocked as I was, I could smell danger from the place. When you burgle a house, you don't go in by the open front door. But Hansen was already out of sight in the shadow; I swam after him round an angle of the rock, and saw him treading water with his hand up on the stone ledge that bordered the harbour. When he saw me he turned face on to the stone, put up his other hand, and heaved himself out of the water.

  For a second he hung there, poised, straining to pull his body onto the ledge; the moonlight was full on him, and suddenly something glittered flying above the water and smacked between his shoulder blades; his head shot up and his body heaved convulsively; for a second he hung, motionless, and then with a dreadful, bubbling sigh he flopped face down on the stone and slid slowly back into the water. As he slipped under I could distinctly see the knife-hilt standing out of his back; then he was floating, half-submerged, and I was scrabbling frantically away from him, choking back the shriek of terror in my throat.

  There was a low, cheerful laugh out of the shadows above me, and then someone whistled a line or two of "Marlbroug s'en va t-en guerre".

  "Swim this way, Flashman, Prince of Denmark," said Rudi's voice. "I have you beaded, and you won't float long if I put lead ballast into you. Come along, there's a good chap; you don't want to catch cold, do you?"

  He watched me as I clambered miserably out, shaking with fright and cold, and stood hand on hip, smiling easily at me.

  "This is a not entirely unexpected pleasure," says he. "I had a feeling you would turn up, somehow. Eccentric way you have of arriving, though." He nodded towards the water. "Who's our dead friend?"

  I told him.

  "Hansen, eh? Well, serve him right for a meddling fool. I did him rather proud, I think—twenty-five feet, an uncertain light, and a rather clumsy hunting-knife—but I put it right between his shoulders. Rather pretty work, wouldn't you say? But you're trembling, man!"

  "I'm cold," I chattered.

  "Not as cold as he is," chuckled this hellish ruffian. "Well, come along. Ah, but first, the formalities." He snapped his fingers, and two men came out of the shadows behind him. "Michael, take the gentleman's sabre, and that most un-English knife in his belt. Excellent. This way."

  They took me through a ruined archway, across a paved yard, through a postern-like door in what seemed to be the main keep, and into a vast vaulted hall with a great stone stairway winding round its wall; To my left was a lofty arch through which I could see dimly the outline of massive chains and a great wheel: I supposed this would be the drawbridge mechanism—not that it mattered now.

  Rudi, humming merrily, led the way upstairs and into a chamber off the first landing. By contrast with the gloomy medieval stonework through which we had come, it was pleasantly furnished in an untidy bachelor way, with clothes, papers, dog-whips, bottles, and so on scattered everywhere; there was a fire going and I made straight for it.

  "Here," says he, pushing a glass of spirits into my hand. "Michael will get you some dry clothes." And while I choked over the drink, and then stripped off my soaking weeds, he lounged in an armchair.

  "So," says he, once I had pulled on the rough clothes they brought, and we were alone, "de Gautet bungled it, eh? I told them they should have let me do the business—if I'd been there you would never even have twitched. Tell me what happened."

  Possibly I was light-headed with the brandy and the shock of what I had been through, or my fear had reached that stage of desperation where nothing seems to matter; anyway, I told him how I had disposed of his colleague, and he chuckled appreciatively.

  "You know, I begin to like you better and better; I knew from the first that we'd get along splendidly. And then what? Our Dansker friends got hold of you, didn't they?" Seeing me hesitate, he leaned forward in his chair. "Come along, now; I know much more than you may think, and can probably guess the rest. And if you hold back, or lie to me-well, Mr Play-actor, you'll find yourself going for a swim with friend Hansen, I promise you. Who sent you here? It was the Danish faction, wasn't it—Sapten's precious bandits?"

  "The Sons of the Volsungs," I admitted. I daren't try to deceive him—and what would have been the point?

  "Sons of the Volsungs! Sons of the Nibelungs would be more appropriate. And you and Hansen were to try to rescue Carl Gustaf? I wonder," he mused, "how they found out about him. No matter. What did you expect to accomplish, in heaven's name? Two of you couldn't hope … ah, but wait a moment! You were the mine under the walls, weren't you? To open the way for the good Major Sapten's patriotic horde." He gave a ringing laugh. "Don't look so surprised, man! D'ye think we're blind in here? We've been watching them scuttle about the shore all day. Why, with a night-glass in the tower we watched your boat set out an hour ago! Of all the bungling, ill-judged, badly-managed affairs! But what would one expect from that pack of yokels?" He roared with laughter again. "And how did they coerce you into this folly? A knife at your back, no doubt. Well, well, I wonder what they'll think of next?"

  Now, I was beginning to get some of my senses back, what with the warmth and the rest of sitting down. I was out of the frying-pan into the fire, no question, but I couldn't for the life of me see why he had killed Hansen and taken me prisoner—unless it was for information. And when he had got all that he wanted, what was he going to do with me? I could guess.

  "Yes, what will they think of next?" He sauntered in front of the fireplace, slim and elegant in his tight-fitting black tunic and breeches, and turned to flash his teeth at me. "Suppose you tell me?"

  "I don't know," says I. "It was … as you've guessed. We were to try to release him and let down the bridge."

  "And if that failed?"

  "They didn't say."

  "Mm. Do they know our garrison?"

  "They think … only a few."

  "Well guessed—or well spied out. Not that it'll help them. If they try to storm the place their dear Prince will be feeding the fishes in the Jotunsee before they're over the causeway—do they know that, I wonder?"

  I nodded. "They know all about it."

  He grinned happily. "Well, then, we needn't fret about them, need we? It gives us time to consider. How many men have they over yonder, by the way? And be very, very careful how you answer."

  "I heard them say fifty."

  "Wise Flashman. I knew, you see." Suddenly he clapped me on the shoulder. "Would you like to meet your royal twin? I've been longing to bring the pair of you face to face, you know—and you can see, at the same time, the excellent arrangements we have for his … shall we say, security?—in the event of burglars. Come along." He flung open the door. "Oh, and Flashman." he added, carelessly smiling. "You will bear in mind that I'm not de Gautet, won't you? You'll do nothing foolish, I mean? You see, it would be a great waste, because I think … I think we may be able to try out a little scheme of mine together, you and I. We'll see." He bowed and waved me through. "After you, yo
ur highness."

  We went down to the great hall, and there Rudi turned into a side-passage, and down a steep flight of stone steps which spiralled into the depths of the castle. There were oil lamps at intervals, glistening on the nitre which crusted the bare stone, and in places the steps were slippery with moss, We came out into a flagged cloister, with mighty, squat columns supporting the low ceiling; the place was in shadow, but ahead of us light shone from an archway, and passing through we were in a broad stone chamber where two men sat over cards at a rough table. They looked up at our approach, one with his hand on a pistol; they were burly, tall fellows in what looked like cavalry overalls, and their sabres hung at their elbows, but I wasn't concerned with them. Beyond them was a great iron grille, stretching from floor to ceiling, and before it stood Kraftstein, his huge hands on his hips, like an ogre in the flickering lamplight.

  "Here he is, Kraftstein," says Rudi lightly. "Our old drinking-companion from Schönhausen. Aren't you pleased, now, that I didn't let you shoot him in the water? Kraftstein's got no manners, you know," he added over his shoulder to me. "And how is our royal guest this evening?"

  Kraftstein said nothing, but having glowered at me he turned and drew a bolt in the grille. Rudi waved me through the gate as it groaned back on its hinges, and with the hair prickling on my neck, but spurred by curiosity, I passed through.

  The grille, I saw, cut off the end of the vault, and we were in an enclosure perhaps forty feet deep and half as wide. At the end, opposite me, a man lay on a low couch set against the wall; there was a table with a lamp beside him, and at the sound of the creaking hinge he sat up, shading his eyes and peering towards us.