Blurb: To avoid his brother-in-law's matchmaking schemes, Sir Anthony Crowley goes on a tour of the continent and ends up embroiled in political intrigue when he is called to impersonate the ailing king of Höllfelia for his coronation.
THE PRISONER OF ZEDEN
Prisoner of Zenda (by Anthony Hope) has one of those classic plots: travelling hero must impersonate an incapacitated leader (king, president, etc) and falls in love.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to WargishBoromirFan for the peer review.
Rating: Teen plus. No serious profanity. Some smooching, one small unit of masturbation. Some homophobia and pushback. Drinking. Violence, use of deadly weapons, threats, and character death typical for a political intrigue/adventure story.
I: The Crowley family, with a word on the Stellamattins
I joined my sister at the breakfast table in her London home. Breakfast invitations were rare, and I did suspect a trap, but we Crowleys had always been wiley and I trusted myself to get out unscathed.
"Anthony," she greeted me and cracked open her egg.
"Tracy," I nodded in reply. "And where is your lord and love, Shadwell?"
"Right behind you," came a cantankerous warning.
I sighed. This was very much an ambush.
"Good day, Lord Shadwell. And how are you on this perfect English morning?" I oozed treacley charm. Shadwell knew me too well to fall for it but it would annoy him just the same.
My brother-in-law glared at me as he took his place at the head of the table. "Yer birthday is approaching."
His words sounded like an accusation, as if aging was a crime. Then again, perhaps it was in Shadwell's view. Or at least aging without a spouse and purpose in life. My problem was therefore not that I was growing older but that I was not settling down.
I had nearly settled down a few times in my life, but "nearly" doesn't get a man to the altar or the office. Something always stopped me. Inconsequential things, perhaps, but they seemed grotesquely symbolic at the time - the way a woman spoke of her servants, the way a man whipped his horse, the way someone spoke of mornings as productive times.
The truth of the matter is that I had been blessed with an easy life with ample resources to indulge and the physical and mental strength to appreciate. My parents had let me study abroad and travel extensively. As a result, I knew enough of languages and cultures to avoid trouble - or rush headfirst into it - across the continent. And, to make matters worse in Shadwell's opinion, they had left me with enough fortune that I needn't throw myself on the mercy of some social climber with large quantities of money.
Shadwell sipped his tea without taking his eyes from me. "It's about time you found a wife and made another generation of Crowleys."
Laws had passed fifty years ago that said I could choose either a wife or a husband. This was known on the continent as an "English marriage" and many of the young people I met in my travels were accepting of it. But the ancient generation at home and abroad - and despite Shadwell being less than a decade older than me, by habit and inclination he was ancient - had yet to catch up or die off. Yes, it was still expected that a man in my position would marry a lady and beget more lords and ladies, but I wasn't legally forbidden from following my heart, should my heart lead me elsewhere.
Just to be contrary, I said, "Who's to say I haven't found one? Who's to say someone else hasn't already married her first?"
Shadwell choked on his tea and my sister sent me a scandalized, "Anthony!" but her eyes were twinkling. Sometimes I wondered why she ever accepted Shadwell, but I supposed love is blind.
"We'll not have that again!" Shadwell decreed when his health was no longer at risk. "Once in a family is more than enough."
He referred of course to the Crowley family scandal. It was a hundred and fifty years old and no longer mentioned in wider circles but Shadwell no doubt thought of that stain weekly.
For the unfamiliar, the scandal went thusly: a century and a half ago, the young and handsome crown prince from the kingdom of Höllfelia came to England on a diplomatic mission of a year's duration. He had flaming red hair and a prominent nose and pale hazel eyes that looked almost golden in candlelight. He was very fetching and a number of ladies-in-waiting were mad for him. The diplomatic mission was quite irrelevant to my family history, merely that it served as the vehicle to bring the foreign prince into sustained contact with my ancestors.
The key point was that, just a few weeks before the scheduled end of his visit, Prince Anthony Stellamattin fought a duel with Lord Robert Crowley. Lord Robert had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, and a young, pale, pregnant wife who, if rumor was to be believed, had a weakness for redheads. The prince was not injured when shots were exchanged but was smuggled out of the country in disgrace. In due course, he ascended to the throne of Höllfelia and his descendants ruled in an unbroken line of succession to this very day.
Lord Crowley was also uninjured by the duel, but caught a cold from the wet dueling ground and early hours and sheer spiteful refusal to admit what he had done. The infection spread to his lungs and he died a month later. Two months after that, the widowed Lady Antonia Crowley gave birth to her late husband's only son and heir: a redheaded, pale-eyed boy she named Robert Anthony. It was her steadfast declaration that she had christened the boy Anthony after her own name, but how such coloring came to exist when the Crowleys had heretofore been so dark and Lady Antonia's family was all blond and pale brunet, was a matter of conjecture. Even now, to this very day, the Stellamattin coloring finds ways to manifest and I personally think my red hair and my pale hazel eyes and even my prominent nose to be quite regal and distinguished.
"Oh, I'm sure Anthony is only teasing us," said my sister. She had no problem with my life choices, but it was easier for her to let Shadwell get it out of his system at me rather than her having to deal with it alone.
"Indeed," I agreed, humoring her, "for all I know, it will be a man who finally draws me in."
Tracy laughed at this, willing to love my spouse with all her sisterly affection, whoever they might be, while Shadwell scowled.
"Would it harm ye to look at a woman once in a while?" he asked.
"I've been looking at Tracy for a good twenty minutes," I told him, "and feel no more inclined to marry her than when I first sat down."
Tracy laughed again, more brightly this time. I was performing now, not just conversing.
"The season starts again in six weeks. I want you to be part of it, to actually look for a bride this time," Shadwell said.
I frowned. As much as I loved my elder sister, that goodwill only extended so far where her husband was concerned.
"Six weeks?" I mused. "I don't think I'll be able to promise that. I'm going on a trip, an extended tour of the continent to catch up with old friends, maybe visit Höllfelia for once, and I don't think I'll be back by then." This was all invented on the spur of a moment, but as I spoke the words, I realized I wanted them to be true.
"Anthony, are you sure?" All humor was gone from Tracy's voice, leaving only the older sibling trying to look after me and keep me from harm now that our parents were gone.
"Never more so."
And so it was.
.o8o.
Planning was all well and good for those inclined to leech all spontaneity from their lives, but only the briefest sketch would do for me. I packed my bags and closed my house and went to Paris, determined that the next leg of my journey would reveal itself in due course.
I met with an old friend and fell in with his crowd for a few nights. As our numbers dwindled, secrets and inside jokes came out to play. My friend William needled another expat about his love life and its lack of success. The poor man had apparently fallen under the spell of a beautiful, rich, and ambitious widow who viewed his connections as beneath her goals.
"Gabriela Mauban," began William.
"Madame Gabriela de Mauban!" corrected Bertie, the poor, lovesick fool.
"Madame de Mauban," William repeated with theatrical emphasis, "has her eye on Michael Stellamattin, Duke of Baumberg, next in line for the throne of Höllfelia. She won't settle for the likes of an Englishman until all hope for a better match is lost."
My potential connection to that royal house gave me all the natural curiosity to study them. I knew, for instance, that the previous ruler, King Gottfried IV, had descended from the same Anthony Stellamattin as my own more-than-great grandfather; that King Gottfried had recently died and his eldest son, Crown Prince Lucifer was his successor although he had yet to be crowned; that Gottfried had married again after his first wife had died and had a second son, Prince Michael, Duke of Baumberg. It descended into speculation from there that the second son was old Gottfried's favorite and, had the king been at liberty to choose, it would be Michael and not Lucifer who followed him to the throne, but the king had invented the duchy of Baumberg as a special boon to his younger son.
Bertie knew enough of the politics that he knew his chances were slim for now. The country was technically in an interregnum although Lucifer was the acting albeit absent king. But if anything should happen to him to prevent him being crowned, his half-brother would be waiting to fill in for him. Indeed, if Madame de Mauban had set her cap on Duke Michael, even if the prince never became king he was still a duke which was far more than Bertie would ever be. And so my new friend was left in limbo, to await either the end of his infatuation or the end of Madame's aspirations.
I felt for him, I truly did, but it brought to mind the coronation that was planned in Höllfelia. I had never visited that country but now it seemed fated that I was to go to witness that ceremony. It was always quite a party in England when we raised a new monarch, and I imagined it must be the same elsewhere. What better introduction to that country than to witness the installation of a new king?
My desire to remain in Paris evaporated like morning mist and I sped the next day to the train station to be on my way.
By coincidence, I met my friend William there. He quizzed me as to my next destination and I disassembled to his face - I was not so much going to Dresden as I was going through it. William was a perpetual gossip and, if I should have told him the whole truth, the story would have made it to Lord and Lady Shadwell in a week or less. I knew my brother-in-law would disapprove and I knew he would vent his spleen on my sister, so I said I was going to Dresden and kept my newly purchased ticket safe in my pocket.
Now William spied someone else across the crowded station hall. He begged pardon and darted away. I watched after him, curious to see what was up. He ran to a tall, dark haired woman who might have been handsome had she not looked so condescending to one and all. William badgered her for a bit and it amused me how coldly she treated him and how insulated to her mood was he. At last he tipped his hat at her and came away.
"Falling in love?" I asked when he made his way back to me.
"Me? No," he said. "That is Bertie's inamorata, the incomparable Madame Gabriela. She too is going to Dresden, if you believe the luck. Bertie would be so jealous of you getting to travel with her, but she refused to meet with you."
I frowned. "I didn't ask for an introduction," I told him.
"Yes," William agreed. "I was doing you a favor but alas she doesn't feel sociable in public crowds. Ah, well, perhaps you can get acquainted with her when you arrive. Perhaps you'll even get a chance to rescue her from some random mischance and win her heart away from the duke! Won't Bertie hate you then."
I could only imagine how this tidbit would get presented in London: Sir Anthony Crowley pursued widow to Germany, or some such nonsense. I should have tried to calm him, but I bid him farewell and let his expectations run wild.
Having been forewarned by William, I gave Madame de Mauban wide berth, observing her only when I knew she would not notice me. We both took the train to Dresden, and reboarded it the next morning when it continued on to Höllfelia. It was the most natural supposition to me that the lady wished to be near the duke and the duke would obviously be at the coronation, which meant we were both headed to Baumberg although only one of us knew it.
The train stopped at the border, as it had on the way to Dresden, and I had to hand over my papers and make my declarations. The customs agent stared baldly at me and I felt my physical appearance must mark some connection to the ruling family. When I stated my intention was to view the coronation, he made some sly comment that I would have an impressive view from the palace but there was no more room for newcomers in Baumberg. This surprised me greatly as I had counted on the celebrations taking place over the next few weeks, with the capital slowly filling with Höllfelians from the countryside as well as foreigners like myself. The agent instructed me to read the morning paper, which explained that the coronation had been rescheduled from weeks away to merely a few days! Although the reasons for the change were not mentioned, the paper explained that the decision had been made only yesterday and listed out the compressed schedule of events quite clearly. Equally clear was the fact that every interested person was scrambling to reach the capital in time and that they'd had yesterday to wire ahead and reserve any space they could find. I, having spent the day on the train, had been in the dark. I wondered morosely if I would only be able to travel through the city with no means of resting there for even a night.
The agent, having realized that I had no secret connection to the court, guessed my thoughts. He offered me a stay at Zeden, less than two hours' journey from the capital of Baumberg yet much less crowded. It was a few stops before Baumberg, so presented no difficulty in changing my plans. I thanked him for his idea and got back on the train.
When I departed the train at Zeden station, I had the satisfaction of spying Madame Gabriela de Mauban still seated by the window in her private car, ready to continue into Baumberg. As a close friend of the duke - less close than she wished to be but perhaps closer than the duke intended - she had no doubt secured lodgings far in advance of my own whims. Had I not been so averse to planning, I might have gone with her, but I was willing to find my adventure where it presented itself, even in a sleepy little town like Zeden.
notes: The original Zenda is mostly set in the fictional kingdom of Ruritania and not Höllfelia, but I took some fanfiction liberties to make characters and some place names fit within GO.
While Gabriel is a good main villain in a lot of GO FF, Zenda's main baddie is Duke Michael (aka Black Michael) and I felt like keeping Michael in that role, so that's how Gabe ended up where he (she) is.
The homophobia, when it shows up, is pretty much in keeping with what you've read above: perceived (at least by the narrator) as "crazy uncle" rantings which are condescendingly tolerated.
This is a completed story with 14 chapters, please feel free to subscribe to follow along. I'll try to stick with a consistent posting schedule but it's summer so vacations and other activities will add wrinkles now and then.