Chapter XVIII: Wandering Fires

It was on a day of appalling dust and heat that Usk and his wife arrived at the Illyrian town of Novigrad. The place stood among hills which had been left stony and treeless by several centuries of Roumi domination, but up which patches of woodland were beginning to creep under the fostering care of the Pannonian officials in charge of the province. There was a sparkling river which flowed in a rocky channel through the town, and many of the houses on the outskirts were embowered in greenery, but the general impression was of glaring white walls, dazzling roofs and blinding dust, and an atmosphere of heat from which no refuge could be found. Helene was nearly fainting when Usk helped her out of the carriage at the door of the solitary hotel, and her plight moved an elderly man of Jewish appearance, who was sitting in a dejected attitude on the terrace in front, to catch up a glass of sherbet, and hasten to her assistance with a murmur of sympathy.

“Place de younk lady in dis chair off mine, sir,” he said. “Heat such as dis iss killink for dose not accustomed to it. Your business must be fery pressink, iss it not? But why! it iss my frient Lord Usk and his most gracious lady! Ah, den I need not ask your reasson for comink here. What a loss iss dis we hef all sustained!”

“I never thought of finding you here, Chevalier,” said Usk, administering a few drops of the sherbet at a time to Helene, “and yet of course it’s the natural thing. Helene, this is the Chevalier Goldberg, my uncle’s great friend----”

“Alas, no!” cried the Chevalier, raising his hands deprecatingly--“not his frient, his enemy. It is my embition, my esspirations, det hef led to all dis! De Queen says it; she will not receife me. I may not help efen to search for him, but I remain here, in case I may yet be permitted to do somethink.”

“But you didn’t help to lead him into danger?” asked Helene anxiously.

“I kennot tell. De Queen says it. It seems he hed receifed warninks; I wass not told. Rader would I hef postponed efen de triumph off my nation den risk his life, his freedom.”

“Then where is the Queen?” asked Usk.

“She is spendink de day at Klotsch, and your fader also. So it iss efery day. Dey go dere to exemine all de neighbourhood demselfs, and come beck at night to receife de reports off deir achents. But her Machesty will not see me, nor allow me to take any part in de search.”

“We will speak to her, and ask her to let you help,” said Helene. “It must be so sad for you not to be allowed to do anything.”

The Chevalier pursued her with his fervent thanks as Usk supported her into the hotel, but the task she had undertaken proved more difficult than she expected. When Queen Ernestine returned, she refused to have anything to do with the Chevalier Goldberg. He had sacrificed her husband to his plots, she declared, with a violence of unreason which reminded Lord Caerleon of those early days when she had done her best to make Cyril’s life a burden to him. The stately gentleness which had characterised her of late years seemed to have disappeared, and she was simply a woman fighting wildly for her husband’s life. The fearful anxiety of the last few days had driven her almost mad, as she joined feverishly in the searches made in the district round Klotsch, or sat waiting for messages, not knowing whether to look forward to their arrival with fear or with hope. But so far no news whatever had been received.

“It’s quite natural she should feel prejudiced against the Chevalier,” said Lord Caerleon to his son, as they walked up and down the terrace, while Helene sat with the Queen, and tried in vain to cheer her, “but it’s very unfortunate. These Jews have a natural instinct for ferreting out mysteries, and Goldberg can set in motion a whole army of helpers all over Europe. But I can’t urge her against her will. I wish your mother was here.”

“What is the mater doing, by the way?” asked Usk. “We quite thought we should find her here.”

“Pauline Vassilievna is dying. We were just starting for Geneva to be with her, when your aunt’s telegram came, so your mother went alone to Switzerland, and I came on here.”

“And King Michael--what about him? What an ungrateful beast he must be!”

“Oh, he is away on his honeymoon, in the Bluebird, and your aunt wouldn’t allow him to be told. He was only to be troubled with absolutely necessary State business, and she doesn’t particularly want him here. He could do no good.”

“Usk,” said Queen Ernestine from the window, and Usk noticed the new tone of sharpness in her voice, “you and Helene are not to stay here more than one night. Helene looks ill already, and Mirkovics tells me she was nearly dead when she arrived. You must take her up into the hills, to Drinitza, in the morning.”

“Oh, please not,” Helene’s voice interposed, from the sofa. “Dear Aunt Ernestine, we have come here to help. You will break our hearts if you send us away, and won’t let us do anything.”

“Hush, Lenchen!” said the Queen harshly. “I will not have more trouble brought upon the innocent by their connection with me. How could I ever forgive myself if you fell ill?”

“Besides,” said Lord Caerleon, in his calm tones, “you can be very useful at Drinitza. It is not so far off, just above the underground cavern out of which this river here flows, and you will be able to explore that part of the country as we have been doing the other side. It seems quite certain that your uncle has not been taken across the Dardanian frontier, and therefore he must still be on this side of it. That will be your work, to search the Drinitza district.”

“But Helene is not to be sacrificed. I will not have her sacrificed,” repeated the Queen feverishly. “If there is a curse, it shall rest on me alone.”

“No, no; who is talking of sacrificing Helene?” asked Lord Caerleon. “She is going to spend these hot weeks at a pleasant little place in the hills, and take plenty of walks and drives with Usk. That will suit you, little girl, won’t it?”

“Oh yes; if we can really help in that way,” said Helene eagerly.

“I am having the buggy sent out which I had built for you,” Lord Caerleon went on. “It is intended for rough roads, and I have my eye on a pair of fair enough horses which one of the officers in the town, who is ordered back to Vindobona, wants to sell. Usk will give you driving-lessons, and take you with him on all his expeditions wherever the buggy can go. When he can’t be with you he’ll leave you in charge of his man William, who is the nephew of our coachman at Llandiarmid, and knows all there is to know about horses.”

“Oh, thank you. You have arranged everything so nicely,” said Helene.

“We will take a carriage and go over to Drinitza in the morning to see about rooms,” said Usk. “Will that suit you, Aunt Ernestine? You evidently share Phil’s opinion that I don’t take proper care of my wife.”

“It is not that. I have brought trouble on so many----” began the Queen.

“By the way, Ernestine,” said Lord Caerleon, with some impatience, “are you still thinking of a personal appeal to the Emperor of Scythia? If so, we shall want to leave some one in charge of things here. Are Usk and Helene to come back from Drinitza?”

“Ah, you are trying to persuade me to accept the help of the Chevalier Goldberg!” said the Queen. “Well, I cannot say yet. I must wait until all the detectives have reported to me. Then, if there is still no news,” she shuddered, “we must think what is to be done.”

Early the next morning, while the air was still comparatively cool, Usk and Helene hired a carriage and drove out to Drinitza. Their road zigzagged up and down the hill-sides, and crossed several bridges, all over the same river. The hamlet for which they were bound stood near the crest of a hill, looking as if it might at any moment slip from its little terrace of rock over the stupendous cliff below. Behind the hotel the wooded summit rose sheer; in front there was the pretence of a garden, with arbours (a little the worse for dust), and a fountain or two, and a piazza which commanded a pleasant view. At the foot of the cliff, in a cool glen cheerful with singing-birds, and bright with crimson-flowered bushes and masses of white-blossomed creeper, was the mysterious cavern from which the river burst forth full-grown. The landlord of the little inn, an old Pannonian soldier, was eloquent in his description of the wonders of the cavern, the blueness of the water inside it, and the strange shapes of the rocks, but it seemed that he had only explored it to a point from which the entrance could still be seen. He was too wise, however, to dash the hopes of prospective guests, and promised to provide a boat and plenty of torches, and do his best to find two boatmen, if the “gracious English nobilities” wished to make a more thorough search at any time. The place was beginning to become known, but the old man’s principal customers were still the officers and townspeople who drove out from Novigrad on Sundays and holidays, and he was delighted to let his best rooms to such distinguished persons as Lord and Lady Usk. In his abounding satisfaction he escorted them up the wood-paths to the top of the hill, and pointed out in the valley far below on the other side a white thread, which he told them was the road into Dardania.

“Then where does Prince Pelenko live?” asked Usk, while Helene gave a gasp. They might even now be looking at the scene of the final act of the tragedy which was baffling them all.

“Yonder is his Highness’s house,” answered the old man, pointing to a large white building dimly seen among the trees, “but his property extends for miles, as far as the Dardanian frontier.”

“Then we shan’t be able to walk through those lovely forests, as he is away from home, and can’t give us leave,” said Helene.

“Ah, the gracious lady need not grieve herself,” said the old man, with a knowing look. “The Prince started, certainly, but he is back at home now, sure enough, though it is not every one that knows it, and it will be easy to obtain his leave for the noble lady and gentleman to go where they like on his land.”

“At home? Oh, Usk, we must go and see him, and find out whether he really----” but Usk pressed her arm.

“Is it true that the river flows underground before it reaches the cave, and that there is a place where it disappears into the earth?” he asked the landlord. Volubly the old man assured him that it was perfectly true,--that close to the Mœsian frontier, on the north-east, there was a spot called Bagnanera, where the river disappeared suddenly into a cave of awful blackness, and that objects thrown into the water there had in due time been found in the river below the hotel.

“How dreadful!” said Helene, shuddering. “Why,” her tone changed, “there is a European coming up the hill--not an officer. Have you any other visitors?”

“It is the great Scythian nobleman who has been visiting the Pelenko mansion. Will the nobilities excuse me?” asked the old man hurriedly. “I must see that his horses are ready.”

“How awfully unfortunate!” said Usk quickly, as the landlord hastened back to his house. “It’s Prince Soudaroff, of all people! and there’s no hope that he hasn’t seen us. Well, we had better face it out, Nell, and just admire the view till he gets up here.”

The recognition seemed to be mutual, for the gentleman who was mounting the steep path stopped and hesitated perceptibly when he saw the two figures on the hill-top, but coming, apparently, to the same decision as Usk, he resumed his climb, and advanced towards them with beaming countenance and uplifted hat.

“I assist at an idyll!” he said in French as he met them. “Youth, beauty, and nature--I enjoy them all at one glance. Let me congratulate you, Lord Usk, on the spot you have chosen for your sojourn. It is evident that you are of the few who have discovered the charms of this corner of Europe, you and--may I say Madame la Vicomtesse?”

“Oh yes, please,” said Helene, flushing with pleasure. Here at last was some one who understood her wish without being told.

“It isn’t the scenery that has brought us here,” said Usk bluntly.

“Ah no, I understand. A family bereavement, is it not? and one of a particularly distressing character. You have no good news yet, I fear?”

“Fear? you mean hope!” was Usk’s unuttered comment. Aloud he said, “None.”

“But we hope to learn something soon,” said Helene eagerly. “We were so glad to hear that Prince Pelenko has returned home, because he seems to have seen Count Mortimer later than any one else on the evening that he disappeared, and we want to ask him so many things.”

Again a look of uncertainty flitted across the Scythian statesman’s face. “Ah, I see!” he exclaimed. “I fear you will be disappointed, madame. It is not Prince Valerian, the head of the family, who is at the Pelenko mansion, but his younger brother, Prince Shishman Pelenko, who holds a commission in my imperial master’s bodyguard, and it is on his account I am here. Ten days ago this young man was engaged in a duel, and had the misfortune to kill his opponent. The sad event preyed so much upon his mind that he wrote a hasty resignation of his commission, and retired to the family estate, to bury himself among these hills. My august master received his decision with much regret, and graciously entrusted me with a mission to the unfortunate young man, and it is from the discharge of this mission I am returning--unsuccessful, alas! Ah, madame, how can I hope to explain to one so youthful and innocent as yourself the depth of grief, of remorse, in which this unhappy Prince Shishman is plunged? He confines himself to the enclosed grounds immediately surrounding the paternal abode, and in these narrow limits he paces up and down like a caged tiger. Until the unfortunate dispute which separated them, he and his rival had been the closest of friends, and now no assurances that his conduct throughout was that of a man of the nicest honour will comfort him. He cannot forgive himself,” and Prince Soudaroff, deeply affected either by his own eloquence or by the moving picture he had conjured up, brushed away a tear.

“I am so glad you have told us this,” said Helene, in conscience-stricken tones. “We were going to ask leave to walk through the woods on the estate.”

“But why not, madame? In this I can serve you, I am happy to say. At the inn I will write a note to Prince Pelenko’s steward, and he will send you the necessary permission without troubling the unhappy Prince Shishman. Of course I will assure him that you will confine your walks to the unenclosed woods, and not threaten the privacy of the mourner.”

“Surely that assurance is scarcely necessary, Prince?” said Usk haughtily.

“You must pardon me, my dear Lord Usk. I was only considering how, as a friend of the family, I could best ensure the goodwill of an old family servant. You intend to spend some time here? I myself am leaving at once, summoned to the sick-bed of my sister-in-law, Pauline Vassilievna, or I should have been delighted to do anything in my power to show you the neighbourhood.”

“We stay here,” returned Usk, with unconscious grimness, “until we have cleared up the mystery of my uncle’s fate.”

“Indeed?” Prince Soudaroff raised his eyebrows. “It is a delicate suggestion to make, but are you sure you are quite wise? Is it kind to condemn madame to a possibly lifelong sojourn among these hills? When one wishes to disappear, one is generally able to baffle pursuit.”

“Count Mortimer didn’t wish to disappear!” cried Helene indignantly. “It is his enemies who have got him imprisoned somewhere.”

“Ah? ‘The Prince of the Captivity,’ indeed!” said Prince Soudaroff pleasantly. “I would not for the world destroy your faith, madame. But I must reluctantly depart. I trust we may often meet again. Farewell, madame! farewell, Lord Usk--surely all the world must be jealous of your happiness?” and kissing Helene’s hand gallantly, the diplomatist departed.

“Usk,” breathed Helene, clutching her husband’s arm, “that man knows!”

“Knows what?”

“Where the dear Count is. I saw it in his eye.”

“Oh, nonsense, Nell! He’s much too wily for that.”

“I don’t care. I don’t know how it is, but I know that he knows.”

“If it was certain, it would be maddening,” cried Usk; “for you might as well tell me that the General of the Jesuits knows. We are just as likely to get it out of him. But we’ll tell Aunt Ernestine what you think when we get back to Novigrad. It may help to decide her plans.”

“Prince Pelenko is not at home, after all,” said Helene to the old landlord when they returned to the hotel. “It is his brother, Prince Shishman.”

“So the noble Scythian gentleman told me, gracious one. I did not see the Prince come home; I only saw smoke coming from the chimneys, and the Dardanian servants hanging about, and I knew that one of the family must be at the house. I guessed that there were creditors waiting to make themselves troublesome as soon as his Highness arrived in Europe, as has happened before, and that he had therefore returned.”

As Usk had anticipated, the chance meeting with Prince Soudaroff decided Queen Ernestine to make an immediate appeal to the Emperor of Scythia, who was far more likely to listen to her, now that the influence of his terrible Chancellor was temporarily removed. At the moment he was paying his annual visit to his relations at Kaufenhafen, the capital of Cimbria, and the Queen made up her mind to follow him thither, trusting to the kind offices of their common cousins to secure her an interview. It was a relief to Lord Caerleon that his sister-in-law should be willing to take this long journey, for the whole of the district round Klotsch had now been scoured, without revealing the faintest trace of the missing men, or anything that could throw light upon their fate, and he feared that her brain would give way under the continued anxiety. In view of this personal appeal she became almost hopeful, for she and her helpers were now beginning to feel convinced that Count Mortimer and his secretary had been kidnapped either by Scythia or by persons in Scythian employ, and conveyed in some mysterious way into Scythian territory, to be there imprisoned.

“I will go on my knees to the Emperor to release him!” she said. “I will promise anything in his name--anything, even that we return at once to Sitt Zeynab and never leave it again. Cyril will keep the promises I make for him--he may hate me for making them, but I can bear that, if only he is restored to me safely.”

The Chevalier Goldberg, whom she had at last consented to receive, and even, on Lord Caerleon’s advice, to leave in charge of affairs at Novigrad, was equally ready to make sacrifices on Cyril’s behalf. If it was the plot to place Cyril on the throne of Palestine that had led to his disappearance, the plot should come to an end and the plotters be disbanded the moment he was released, and the heads of the great Jewish syndicate called the United Nation would pledge themselves that he should never again be brought forward as a candidate, and would enforce the same pledge on their poorer brethren the Children of Zion. Besides these concessions, the importance of which was, to the initiated, rather apparent than real, the Chevalier was prepared to give other aid, but the nature of this he did not mention to the Queen, although Lord Caerleon understood that the journey would be as easy as the financier’s influence could make it. At every stopping-place an agent of the Chevalier’s was at hand, to see whether anything was needed, and at Kaufenhafen his representative had _carte blanche_ to take any measures advisable for furthering the interview. These included the discreet distribution of presents among various high functionaries of the Scythian Court, and the expense was likely to be considerable.

Usk and Helene drove into Novigrad to see the Queen and Lord Caerleon start on their journey, and returned rather dolefully to Drinitza. They had never anticipated anything like this resultless and hopeless waiting, this wall of silence which seemed to close them round. Even a rumour, though it might be proved baseless, would have been some comfort; but no one came forward with false clues, as generally happens in more thickly populated countries. The disappearance was complete.

“Look here,” said Usk, rousing himself, as they sat silent on the terrace over their after-dinner coffee, “we’re getting into the blues, Nell, and I won’t have it. I shall wake you up jolly early to-morrow morning, as soon as ever I come back from the river, and you shall have a good stiff driving-lesson before breakfast. Give you something else to think about.”

Helene smiled faintly, but she was destined to be waked even earlier than her husband intended, and the driving-lesson was not to take place that day. Usk went down to the river for a swim every morning, and he was still absent when Helene was aroused by hearing a horseman dash up the steep road, and ride clattering into the stone-paved courtyard beside the hotel. She heard him inquire eagerly for the English nobleman, and peeping out of her window, she saw the tokens of dismay, horror, and astonishment exhibited on the faces of the audience which gathered round him. She saw him ride down the road again to find Usk, escorted by several volunteer guides, and she rang wildly for her maid, and sent her to find out what had happened. To her dismay, the landlord returned a polite message that the rider had brought news for the noble Viscount, and for him alone, and that it was of too horrible and appalling a nature for any one else to take the responsibility of communicating it to the gracious lady. From this decision he could not be moved, and Helene, in terrible anxiety, flung on her clothes in wild haste, regardless of the protests of the discreet Hannele, who owed her position to her supposed power of keeping her young mistress within bounds. Dressed at last after a fashion, Helene rushed out, hatless and in slippers, and ran down the sunny, rocky road towards the glen. Before she had gone half the distance, she met Usk hurrying up, some way in advance of the messenger and his friends, and ran to him. She could not speak, but he read her question in her eyes.

“No, he’s not dead--at least we don’t know that he is, but they have found Paschics’s body in the river between here and Novigrad.”

“Dead--murdered?”

“I don’t know. I am going into the town to see. No, you had better not come. I’ll send out to tell you anything we may discover.”

“Oh, I must--I must come,” cried Helene, clutching feebly at his arm, and forthwith stultified herself by spinning round and falling in a dead faint at his feet. To Usk’s intense relief, there appeared at this point a sufficiently comical procession, consisting of Hannele with her Highness’s hat, Jakob with her Highness’s shoes, and William, pressed into the service, with her ladyship’s sunshade. With their assistance, Helene was carried back to the hotel and up to her room. When she recovered consciousness, her first thought was to send Usk off to Novigrad at once, and she went so far as to promise to stay in bed until he came back, although the scandalised Hannele was not a very agreeable sick-nurse, even when her company was the only alternative to Helene’s own anxious forebodings. It was a long, weary day, but Usk returned at last, though without any comfort to offer her.

“It is poor Paschics, sure enough,” he said.

“And he has been murdered?”

“That’s what we can’t be sure about. The body is terribly bruised, but there seems to be no injury sufficient to cause death.”

“But perhaps he was drowned?”

“No; the police-surgeon seemed quite certain it was not that. He rather thinks that death was due to heart-failure following on a violent shock of some kind.”

“Oh, Usk, how terrible! If he could only speak! But the bruises?”

“I have a theory which may account for them. Do you remember what the landlord said about this river flowing underground from Bagnanera, fifteen or sixteen miles away? Well, suppose the poor fellow was thrown into the water there, whether dead or alive, in the hope that he would sink and never be heard of again, but that the river carried him all the way to this place? The bruises would be easily accounted for then, you know.”

“Isn’t it horrible? Oh, Nym, do you mean--you can’t mean that they did that to the dear Count too, and that he has not been found, and we shall never know? What are you going to do?”

“I think of going over to Bagnanera. We never dreamed of extending the search in that direction, it seemed so entirely out of the way. I only wish I could get hold of Hicks to come too.”

“The camera he was to send us came to-day.”

“That won’t tell us where he is, though. We must only hope that the thought of the underground river will strike him when he hears about this. There are not many things that don’t occur to him.”

Very shortly it was evident that Mr Hicks had a correspondent in Novigrad who kept him in touch with the course of affairs, and that the idea which occurred to Usk had struck him also, for the next day a telegram was brought out from the town which read--

“Hope camera arrived safe. Bagnanera good place for views. Am going there to-morrow; will coach Lady Usk if you come. Bring films.”

“We must make a day of it,” said Usk.

“And you’ll have to take me,” said Helene.

“I’ve a good mind to take Hannele too, to look after you,” returned Usk; but Helene smiled contentedly, in the certainty that Hannele could not possibly be accommodated in the buggy. In accordance with the cryptic direction at the end of the telegram, William and Jakob accompanied the carriage as a mounted escort, and Mr Hicks smiled when he met the procession, in spite of the seriousness of the occasion.

“Your outfit is real elegant, Lady Usk,” he said, as he helped Helene out. “Guess the natives will be ’most too frightened to stop and look at you.”

“Do they make any opposition to our exploring the place?” asked Usk.

“Not a cent, sir. I’ve been figuring around as cross-examiner all of the morning, and I can’t dig anything suspicious out of them. The whole township isn’t anything but rocks and a few goats, and there’s not a sign of plunder or bribery in any of the houses. Of course, they may all be in it together, and have hidden everything dangerous, but I can’t quite fix it so. And now, if her ladyship will be so good, after a few hints from me, as to work that camera all it’s worth, and make love to the women and the population generally, you and I will strike for the disappearing river.”

“Oh, mayn’t I come?” asked Helene anxiously.

Mr Hicks appeared to consider deeply. “Well, Lady Usk,” he said, “I’d as lief have you come as not, but you could assist us far more by exercising your fascinations upon the villagers. A few nickels laid out in bribing the children to have their pictures taken might raise us up friends that would justify their existence.”

“Then of course I will go to the village,” said Helene.

“Between you and me, sir,” said Mr Hicks, when he had explained the working of the camera, and Helene, attended by Jakob, had begun to climb the steep street of the hamlet, “I have no use for her ladyship the next hour or two. It’s a real ugly place, this cave, with a current that runs like Niagara, and a sweet reputation among the people. They won’t go near it for their lives, and would consider it profane to build a boat. I propose that you and I and your groom should take it in turns to explore, one man swimming, and the other two holding the rope and lighting him.”

Usk agreed, and the first sight of the cave proved to him that Mr Hicks’s precautions were not unnecessary. The river, running swift and dark, lost itself under an overhanging brow of rock, and it required a good deal of nerve to plunge into the blackness within, even when secured by a rope. Various ways of obtaining light were tried, such as burning candles at the entrance, fixing a lantern just inside it, or fastening a candle in the cap, miner’s fashion, and the cave was explored for some distance. Usk, indeed, ventured too far, being caught by the swift current, and only saved by clutching at a rock past which he was swept, until he had regained sufficient strength to add his own efforts to those of Mr Hicks and William as they hauled desperately at the rope. He returned silent and grave, for, as he confided to Mr Hicks, he felt he had been very near death. In the narrow passage he had reached, the torrent took a downward course, and above the rush of the current he believed he could distinguish the roar of water falling from a great height. What fate could be more awful than a plunge over a subterranean cataract, to be dashed and beaten and choked to death in the bowels of the earth? No attempt was made to penetrate farther, but there were some gruesome experiments to be conducted with the carcases of goats, in order to ascertain whether a body thrown into the river here could possibly reappear below Drinitza. The result, it may be mentioned, was of a negative character. Two of the carcases were actually found the next day in the river above Novigrad, but the rest were never seen again, so that the experiment proved little, either as to the body of the unfortunate Paschics or the still unknown fate of Count Mortimer.