Science Fiction - Daily Short Stories
He Walked Around the Horses - H Beam Piper
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Hey Amazon Prime members! Why pay more for groceries when you can save big on thousands of items at Amazon Fresh? Shop Prime exclusive deals and save up to 50% on weekly grocery favorites. Plus save 10% on Amazon brands. Like our new brand Amazon Saver, 365 by Whole Foods Market, a plenty and more. Come back for new deals rotating every week. Don't miss out on savings. Shop Prime exclusive deals at Amazon Fresh. Select varieties. There's only one feeling like the traditions of baseball. From creating memories with your family to the joy of being with fellow fans. The taste of your first hot dog of the season and the excitement of catching your first foul ball. Baseball brings communities together and as your hometown bank, we support the hometown team. We're proud to be the official bank of the Colorado Rockies. Bank of Colorado, there's only one member FDIC. He walked around the horses by HB and Piper. This tale is based on an authenticated documented fact. A man vanished right out of this world and where he went. In November 1809 an Englishman named Benjamin Bathurst vanished inexplicably and utterly. He was en route to Hamburg from Vienna where he'd been serving as his government's envoy to the court of what Napoleon had left of the Austrian Empire. At an inn in polarberg in Prussia while examining a change of horses for his coach, he casually stepped out of sight of his secretary and his valid. He was not seen to leave the innyard. He was not seen again, ever. At least, not in this continuum. From Baron Eugen von Kritzminister of police, to his excellency the Count von Bercht and Revolt Chancellor to his Majesty Friedrich Wilhelm III of Prussia, 25th of November 1809. Your Excellency. A circumstance has come to the notice of this ministry, the significance of which I am at a loss to define, but since it appears to involve matters of state, both here and abroad, I am convinced that it is of sufficient importance to be brought to your personal attention. Frankly, I am unwilling to take any further action in the matter without your advice. Briefly, the situation is this. We are holding, here at the Ministry of Police, a person giving his name as Benjamin Bathurst, who claims to be a British diplomat. This person was taken into custody by the police at Pearlberg yesterday as the result of a disturbance at an inn there, his being detained on technical charges of causing disorder in a public place and of being a suspicious person. When arrested he had in his possession a dispatch case containing a number of papers, these are of such an extraordinary nature that the local authorities declined to assume any responsibility beyond having the man sent here to Berlin. After interviewing this person and examining his papers, I am, I must confess, in much the same position. This is not, I am convinced, any ordinary police matter. There is something very strange and disturbing here. The man's statements taken alone are so incredible as to justify the assumption that he is mad. I cannot, however, adopt this theory, in view of his demeanour which is that of a man of perfect rationality, and because of the existence of these papers, the whole thing is mad, incomprehensible. The papers in question accompany, along with copies of the various statements taken at Pearlberg, a personal letter to me from my nephew Lieutenant Rudolf von Talberg. This last is deserving of your particular attention. Lieutenant von Talberg is a very level-headed young officer, not at all inclined to be fanciful or imaginative; it would take a good deal to affect him as he describes. The man calling himself Benjamin Bathurst is now lodged in an apartment here at the Ministry, he is being treated with every consideration, and except for freedom of movement, accorded every privilege. I am, most anxiously awaiting her advice, etc., etc., cruts. Report of Trowkotzella, Obovachtmeister Stutzpilitsai, made at Pearlberg 25th of November 1809. At about ten minutes past two of the afternoon of Saturday 25th of November, while I was at the police station, there entered a man known to me as Franz Bower, an insolvent employed by Christian Halk at the sign of the sword and scepter here in Pearlberg. This man, Franz Bower, made complaint to Stutzpilitsai captain Ernst Hartenstein, saying that there was a madman making trouble at the inn where he, Franz Bower, worked. I was therefore directed by Stutzpilitsai Capitan, Hartenstein, to go to the sword and scepter inn, there to act a discretion to maintain the peace. Arriving at the inn in company with the said Franz Bower, I found a considerable crowd of people in the common room, and in the midst of them the innkeeper, Christian Halk, in altercation with a stranger. This stranger was a gentlemanly appearing person dressed in travelling clothes, who had under his arm a small leather dispatch case. As I entered I could hear him speaking in German with a strong English accent, abusing the innkeeper, the said Christian Halk, and accusing him of having drugged his, the stranger's wine, and of having stolen his, the stranger's coach and fore, and of having abducted his, the stranger's secretary and servants. This the said Christian Halk was loudly denying, and the other people in the inn were taking the innkeeper's part and mocking the stranger for a madman. On entering I commanded everyone to be silent in the king's name, and then as he appeared to be the complaining party of the dispute I required the foreign gentleman to state to me what was the trouble. He then repeated his accusations against the innkeeper Halk, saying that Halk, or rather another man who resembled Halk and who had claimed to be the innkeeper, had drugged his wine and stolen his coach, and made off with his secretary and his servants. At this point the innkeeper and the bystanders all began shouting denials and contradictions so that I had to pound on a table with my truncheon to command silence. I then required the innkeeper, Christian Halk, to answer the charges which the stranger had made; this he did with a complete denial of all of them, saying that the stranger had had no wine in his inn, that he had not been inside the inn until a few minutes before when he had burst in shouting accusations, and that there had been no secretary and no valet and no coachman and no coach and fore at the inn, and that the gentleman was raving mad. To all this he called the people who were in the common room to witness. I then required the stranger to account for himself. He said that his name was Benjamin Bathurst, and that he was a British diplomat returning to England from Vienna. To prove this he produced from his dispatch case sundry papers. One of these was a letter of safe conduct issued by the Prussian Chancellery, in which he was named and described as Benjamin Bathurst. The other papers were English, all bearing seals and appearing to be official documents. Accordingly I requested him to accompany me to the police station, and also the innkeeper and three men whom the innkeeper wanted to bring his witnesses. Taogotzella Obovachtmeister, report approved Ernst Hartenstein Stutz-Bolitsai Capitan. Statement of the self-so-called Benjamin Bathurst, taken at the police station at Perleberg 25th of November 1809. My name is Benjamin Bathurst, and I am Envoy Extraordinary in Minister Planner Potentry of the Government of his Britannic Majesty, to the Court of his Majesty Franz I Emperor of Austria, or at least I was, until the events following the Austrian surrender made necessary my return to London. I left Vienna on the morning of Monday the 20th to go to Hamburg to take ship home. I was travelling in my own coach in four with my secretary Mr Bertram Jardine, and my valet William Small, both British subjects, and a coachman, Josef Bidek, an Austrian subject, whom I had hired for the trip. Because of the presence of French troops whom I was anxious to avoid, I was forced to make a detour west as far as Salzburg before turning north towards Magdeburg, where I crossed the Elbe. I was unable to get a change of horses for my coach after leaving Guerra till I reached Perleberg, where I stopped at the sword and septor inn. Being there I left my coach in the innyard, and I and my secretary Mr Jardine went into the inn. A man, not this fellow here, but another rogue with more beard and less paunch and more shabbily dress, but as like him as though he were his brother, represented himself as the innkeeper, and I dealt with him for a change of horses and ordered a bottle of wine for myself and my secretary, and also a pot of beer apiece for my valet and the coachman to be taken outside to them. Then Jardine and I sat down to our wine at a table in the common room until the man who claimed to be the innkeeper came back and told us that the fresh horses were harnessed to the coach and ready to go. Then we went outside again. I looked at the two horses on the off-site and then walked around in front of the team to look at the two nigh-side horses, and as I did I felt giddy as though I were about to fall and everything went black before my eyes. I thought I was having a fainting spell, something I'm not at all subject to, and I put out my hand to grasp the hitching bar but could not find it. I am sure now that I was unconscious for some time because when my head cleared the coach and horses were gone and in their place was a big farm wagon jacked up in front with the right front wheel off and two peasants were greasing the detached wheel. I looked at them for a moment, unable to credit my eyes, and then I spoke to them in German saying, 'Where the devil's my coach and four!' they both straightened, startled, the one who was holding the wheel almost dropped it. 'Pardon, excellency,' he said, 'there's been no coach and four-year all the time we've been here.' 'Yes,' said his mate, 'and we've been here since just afternoon.' I did not attempt to argue with them. It occurred to me, and it is still my opinion, that I was the victim of some plot, that my wine had been drugged, that I had been unconscious for some time, during which my coach had been removed and this wagon substituted for it, and that these peasants had been put to work on it and instructed what to save questioned. If my arrival at the inn had been anticipated and everything put in readiness, the whole business would not have taken ten minutes. I therefore entered the inn determined to have it out with his rusically innkeeper, but when I returned to the common-room he was nowhere to be seen, and this other feller, who was given his name as Christian Hauck, claimed to be the innkeeper and denied knowledge of any of the things I've just stated. Furthermore, there were four cavalrymen, Ulan, drinking beer and playing cards at the table where Jardin and I had had our wine, and they claimed to have been there for several hours. I have no idea why such an elaborate prank involving the participation of many people should be played on me, except at the instigation of the French. In that case I cannot understand why Prussian soldiers should lend themselves to it—Benjamin Bathurst.' And of Christian Hauck, innkeeper, taken at the police station at Pearlberg 25th November 1809. Hey Amazon Prime members, why pay more for groceries when you can save big on thousands of items at Amazon Fresh? Shop prime exclusive deals and save up to 50% on weekly grocery favorites. Plus, save 10% on Amazon brands, like our new brand Amazon Saver, 365 by Whole Foods Market, a plenty and more. Come back for new deals rotating every week. Don't miss out on savings! Shop prime exclusive deals at Amazon Fresh. Select varieties. There's only one feeling like the traditions of baseball. From creating memories with your family, to the joy of being with fellow fans, the taste of your first hot dog of the season, and the excitement of catching your first foul ball. Baseball brings communities together, and as your hometown bank, we support the hometown team. I'm proud to be the official bank of the Colorado Rockies. Bank of Colorado. There's only one member FDIC. May it please your honor. My name is Christian Hauck, and I keep an inn at the sign of the Sardon Scepter and have these past 15 years and my father and his father before me for the past 50 years and never has to been complaint like this against my inn. Your honor, it is a hard thing for a man who keeps a decent house and pays his taxes and obeys the laws to be accused of crimes of this sort. I know nothing of this gentleman nor of his coach nor his secretary nor his servants. I never set eyes on him before he came bursting into the inn from the yard, shouting and raving like a madman and crying out, "Where the devil's that rogue of an innkeeper?" I said to him, "I am the innkeeper. What cause of you to call me a road, sir?" The stranger replied, "You're not the innkeeper I did business with a few minutes ago, and he's the rascal I want to see. I want to know what the devil's been done with my coach and what's happened to my secretary and my servants." Now he tried to tell him that I knew nothing of what he was talking about, but he would not listen and gave me the lie, saying that he had been drugged and robbed and his people kidnapped. He even had the impudence to claim that he and his secretary had been sitting at a table in that room drinking wine not fifteen minutes before, when there had been four non-commissioned officers of the Third Ulands at that table since noon. Everybody in the room spoke up for me, but he would not listen, and was shouting that we were all robbers and kidnappers and french spies, and I don't know what all, when the police came. "Girana, the man is mad. What I have told you about this is the truth, and all that I know about this business so help me God." Christian Hulk. Statement of Franz Bauer, "Inservant, taken at the police station at Pearlberg, 25th of November 1809." May it please your honor, my name is Franz Bauer, and I am a servant of the sword and scepter in kept by Christian Hulk. This afternoon, when I went into the innyard to empty a bucket of slops on the dung heap by the stables, I heard voices and turned around, to see this gentleman speaking to Wilhelm Baik and Fritz Hertzer, who were greasing their wagon in the yard. He had not been in the yard when I had turned away to empty the bucket, and I thought that he must have come in from the street. This gentleman was asking Baik and Hertzer, where was his coach, and when they told him they didn't know, he turned and ran into the inn. Off my own knowledge, the man had not been inside the inn before then, nor had there been any coach or any of the people he spoke of at the inn, and none of the things he spoke of happened there, for otherwise I would know since I was at the inn all day. When I went back inside I found him in the common room, shouting at my master, and claiming that he had been drugged and robbed. I saw that he was mad and was afraid that he would do some mischief so I went for the police. Franz Bower, his ex, Mark. Statements of Wilhelm Baik and Fritz Hertzer peasants, taken at the police station at Pearlberg 25th of November 1809. May it please your honour, my name is Wilhelm Baik, and I am a tenant on this state of the Barnvorn Hentig. On this day I and Fritz Hertzer were sent into Pearlberg with a load of potatoes and cabbages, which the innkeeper at the Sordenseptor had brought from the estate superintendent. After we had unloaded them we decided to grease our wagon which was very dry before going back, so he unhitched and began working on it. We took about two hours, starting just after we'd eaten lunch, and in all that time there was no coach and four in the inn yard. We were just finishing when this gentleman spoke to us demanding to know where his coach was. We told him that there had been no coach in the yard all the time we'd been there, so he turned around and ran into the inn. At the time I thought that he'd come out of the inn before speaking to us, for I know that he could not have come in from the street. Now I do not know where he came from, but I know that I never saw him before that moment. Wilhelm Baik, his ex-mark. I have heard the above testament in it is true to my own knowledge, and I have nothing to add to it; Fritz Hertzer, his ex-mark. Wilhelm Stutt's palicia, Capitan, earned tartan stein to his excellency, the Baron von Crutz Minister of Police, 25th of November 1809. Your Excellency. The accompanying copies of statements taken this day will explain how the prisoner, the self-so-called Benjamin Bathurst, came into my custody. I have charged him with causing disorder and being a suspicious person to hold him until more can be learned about him. However, as he represents himself to be a British diplomat, I am unwilling to assume any further responsibility, and am having him sent to your excellency in Berlin. In the first place your excellency I have the strongest doubts of the man's story, the statement which he made before me and signed is bad enough, with the coach in four turning into a farm wagon like Cinderella's coach into a pumpkin, and three people vanishing as those swallowed by the earth. But all this is perfectly reasonable and credible besides the things he said to me of which no record was made. Your excellency will have noticed in his statement certain allusions to the Austrian surrender and to French troops in Austria. After his statement had been taken down, I noticed these allusions and I inquired what surrender and what were French troops doing in Austria. The man looked at me in a pitying manner and said, "News seems to travel slowly here abouts. Peace was concluded at Vienna on the 14th of last month, and as for what French troops are doing in Austria they're doing the same things Bonaparte's brigands are doing everywhere in Europe." "And who is Bonaparte?" I asked. He stared at me as though I'd asked him who is the Lord Jehovah, then after a moment a look of comprehension came into his face. "So you Prussians concede him the title of Emperor and refer to him as Napoleon?" he said. "Well I can assure you that his Britannic Majesty's government haven't done so and never will, not so long as one Englishman has a finger left to pull a trigger. General Bonaparte is a usurper. His Britannic Majesty's government do not recognise any sovereignty in France except the House of Bourbon. This he said very sternly as though rebuking me. It took me a moment or so to digest that and to appreciate all its implications. Why this fellow evidently believed, as a matter of fact, that the French monarchy had been overthrown by some military adventurer named Bonaparte who was calling himself the Emperor Napoleon and who had made war on Austria and forced a surrender. I made no attempt to argue with him, one wastes time arguing with madmen, but if this man could believe that, the transformation of a coach and fore into a cabbage wagon was a small matter indeed. So to humour him I asked if he thought General Bonaparte's agents were responsible for his trouble at the inn." "Certainly," he replied, "the chances are they don't know me to see me and took Jardin for the minister and me for the secretary, so they made off with poor Jardin. I wonder though that they left me my dispatch case, and that reminds me I'll want that back, diplomatic papers, you know." I told him very seriously that we would have to check his credentials. I promised him I would make every effort to locate his secretary and his servants and his coach, took a complete description of all of them and persuaded him to go into an upstairs room where I kept him under guard. I did start inquiries calling in all my informers and spies, but as I expected I could learn nothing. I could not find anybody even who had seen him anywhere in Pearlberg before he appeared at the sword and scepter, and that rather surprised me as somebody should have seen him enter the town or walk along the street. In this connection let me remind your excellency of the discrepancy in the statements of the servant, Franz Bower, and of the two peasants. The former is certain the man entered the in-yard from the street, the latter are just as positive that he did not. Your excellency I do not like such puzzles for I am sure that all three were telling the truth to the best of their knowledge, their ignorant, common folk I admit, but they should know what they did or did not see. After I got the prisoner into safekeeping I felt to examining his papers, and I can assure your excellency that they gave me a shock. I had paid little heed to his ravings about the king of France being dethroned, or about this general bonaparte who called himself the emperor Napoleon. But I found all these things mentioned in his papers and dispatches which had every appearance of being official documents. There was repeated mention of the taking by the French of Vienna last May, and of the capitulation of the Austrian emperor to this general bonaparte, and of battles being fought all over Europe, and I do not know what other fantastic things. Your excellency I have heard of all sorts of madmen, one believing himself to be the archangel Gabriel or Muhammad or a werewolf, and another convinced that his bones are made of glass or that he is pursued and tormented by devils; but so help me God, this is the first time I have heard of a madman who had documentary proof for his delusions. Does your excellency wonder then that I want no part of this business? But the matter of his credentials was even worse. He had papers sealed with the seal of the British Foreign Office, and to every appearance genuine, but they were signed as foreign minister by one George Canning, and all the world knows that Lord Castleray has been foreign minister these last five years; and to cap it all he had a safe conduct, sealed with the seal of the Prussian chancellery, the very seal for I compared it under a strong magnifying glass with one that I knew to be genuine, and they were identical. And yet this letter was signed as Chancellor, not by Count von Berckt involved, but by Baron Stein, the Minister of Agriculture, and the signature as far as I could see appeared to be genuine. "This is too much for me, your excellency. I must ask to be excused from dealing with this matter before I become as mad as my prisoner. I made arrangements accordingly with Colonel Kaitel of the Third Ulans to furnish an officer to escort this man into Berlin. The coach in which they come belongs to this police station, and the driver is one of my men. He should be furnished expense money to get back to Pearlberg. The guard is a corporal of Ulans, the orderly of the officer. He will stay with the hair, over-loitment, and both of them will return here at their own convenience and expense. I have the honour, your excellency to be, etc., etc., and Tartenstein, Stutz-Pilitsay-Kapitan." Hey Amazon Prime members, why pay more for groceries when you can save big on thousands of items at Amazon Fresh? Shop Prime exclusive deals and save up to 50% on weekly grocery favourites. Plus save 10% on Amazon brands, like our new brand Amazon Saver, 365 by Whole Foods Market, a plenty and more. Come back for new deals rotating every week. Don't miss out on savings. Shop Prime exclusive deals at Amazon Fresh. Let's get back for IITs! There's only one feeling like the traditions of baseball. From creating memories with your family, to the joy of being with fellow fans, the taste of your first hot dog of the season, and the excitement of catching your first foul ball. Baseball brings communities together, and as your hometown bank, we support the hometown team. We're proud to be the official bank of the Colorado Rockies, Bank of Colorado. There's only one. Remember FDIC. From Oberleutnant Rudolf von Tauburg to Baron Eigen von Kreutz, 26th of November 1809. Dear Uncle Eigen, this is in no sense a formal report. I made that at the Ministry when I turned the Englishman in his papers over to one of your officers, a fellow with red hair and a face like a bulldog, but there are a few things which you should be told which wouldn't look well in an official report to let you know just what sort of a rare fish has got into your net. I'd just come in from drilling my platoon yesterday when Colonel Keitel's orderly told me that the Colonel wanted to see me in his quarters. I found the old fellow in undress in his sitting-room smoking his big pipe. Come in, left in and come in and sit down, my boy. He greeted me in that bluff party manner which he always adopts with his junior officers when he has some particularly nasty job to be done. How would you like to take a little trip into Berlin? I have an errand which won't take half an hour and you can stay as long as you like, just so you're back by Thursday when your turn comes up for road patrol. Well, I thought this is the bait. I waited to see what the hook would look like, saying that it was entirely agreeable with me in asking what his errand was. "Well, it isn't for myself, Talberg," he said. "It's for this fellow, Hartenstein, the Stutz-Ballitsai Capitan here. Here's something he wants done at the Ministry of Police, and I thought of you, because I've heard you're related to the Baron von Krunz. You are, aren't you?" he asked, just as though he didn't know all about who all his officers are related to. "That's right, Colonel, that Baron is my uncle," I said. "What does Hartenstein want done?" "Why, he has a prisoner whom he wants taken to Berlin and turned over at the Ministry. All you have to do is to take him in in a coach, and see he doesn't escape on the way, and get a receipt for him, and for some papers. This is a very important prisoner. I don't think Hartenstein has any one he can trust to handle him. The prisoner claims to be some sort of a British diplomat, and for all Hartenstein knows maybe he is. Also, he's a madman." "A madman?" I echoed. "Yes, just so. At least that's what Hartenstein told me. I wanted to know what sort of a madman. There are various kinds of madmen, all of whom must be handled differently. But all Hartenstein would tell me was that he had unrealistic beliefs about the state of affairs in Europe. Ha! What diplomat hasn't, I asked?" Old Keitel gave a laugh somewhere between the bark of a dog and the croaking of a raven. "Yes, exactly. The unrealistic beliefs of diplomats are what soldiers die of," he said. "I said as much to Hartenstein, but he wouldn't tell me anything more. He seemed to regret having said even that much. He looked like a man who's seen a particularly terrifying ghost. The old man puffed hard at his famous pipe for a while, blowing smoke through his moustache. Rudy, Hartenstein has pulled a hot potato out of the ashes this time, and he wants to toss it to your uncle before it burns his fingers. I think that's one reason why it got me to furnish an escort for his Englishmen. Now look, you must take this unrealistic diplomat or this undiplomatic madman or whatever in blazes he is in to Berlin, and understand this." He pointed his pipe at me as though it were a pistol, "your orders are to take him there and turn him over at the Ministry of Police. Nothing has been said about whether you turn him over alive or dead or half-one and half the other. I know nothing about this business and want to know nothing. If Hartenstein wants us to play jail waters for him, then he must be satisfied with our way of doing it." While to cut short the story I looked at the coach Hartenstein had placed at my disposal, and I decided to chain the left door shut on the outside so that it couldn't be opened from within. Then I would put my prisoner on my left so that the only way out would be past me. I decided not to carry any weapons which you might be able to snatch from me, so I took off my saber and locked it in the seat-box, along with the dispatch-case containing the Englishmen's papers. It was cold enough to wear a great coat in comfort so I wore mine, and in the right side pocket where my prisoner couldn't reach I put a little leaded bludgeon and also a brace of pocket-pistols. Hartenstein was going to furnish me a guard as well as a driver, but I said that I'd take a servant who could act as guard. The servant, of course, was my orderly old Johann. I gave him my double-hunting gun to carry with a big charge of bore-shot in one barrel and an ounce ball in the other. In addition I armed myself with a big bottle of cognac. I thought that if I could shoot my prisoner often enough with that he would give me no trouble. As it happened he didn't and none of my precautions except the cognac were needed. The man didn't look like a lunatic to me. He was a rather stout gentleman of past-middle age with a ruddy complexion and an intelligent face. The only unusual thing about him was his hat, which was a peculiar contraption looking like a pot. I put him in the carriage and then offered him a drink out of my bottle, taking one about half as big myself. He smacked his lips over it and said, "Well, that's real brandy, whatever we think of their detestable politics we can't criticise the French for their liquor." Then he said, "I'm glad they're sending me in the custody of a military gentleman instead of a confounder Jean-Dame. Tell me the truth, Lieutenant, am I under arrest for anything?" "Why," I said, "Captain Hartenstein should have told you about that. All I know is that I have orders to take you to the Ministry of Police in Berlin and not to let you escape on the way. These orders I will carry out. I hope you don't hold that against me." He assured me that he did not and we had another drink on it. I made sure again that he got twice as much as I did, and then the coachman cracked his whip and we were off for Berlin. Now, I thought I'm going to see just what sort of a madman this is and why Hartenstein is making a state affair out of a squabble at an inn. So I decided to explore his unrealistic beliefs about the state of affairs in Europe. After guiding the conversation to where I wanted it, I asked him, "What, hare bathurst in your belief is the real underlying cause of the present tragic situation in Europe?" That I thought was safe enough, named me one year since the days of Julius Caesar when the situation in Europe hasn't been tragic, and it worked to perfection. In my belief, says this Englishman, the whole mess is the result of the victory of the rebellious colonists in North America and their blasted Republic. Well, you can imagine that gave me a start. All the world knows that the American patriots lost their war for independence from England, that their army was shattered, that their leaders were either killed or driven into exile. How many times when I was a little boy did I not sit up long past my bedtime, when old Baron von Stoben was a guest at Talburg Schloss, listening open mouths and wide-eyed to his stories of that gallant lost struggle? How I used to shiver at his tales of the terrible winter camp or thrill at the battles or weep as he told how he held the dying Washington in his arms and listened to his noble last words at the Battle of Doyle's town. And here this man was telling me that the patriots had really won and set up the Republic for which they had fought. I had been prepared for some of what Hardin Stein had called unrealistic beliefs, but nothing as fantastic as this. I can cut it even finer than that, Bathurst continued. It was the defeat of Burgoyne at Saratoga. We made a good bargain when we got Benedict Arnold to turn his coat, but we didn't do it soon enough. If he hadn't been on the field that day, Burgoyne would have gone through Gates' army like a hot knife through butter. But Arnold hadn't been at Saratoga. I know, I've read much of the American war. Arnold was shot dead on New Year's Day of 1776 during the storming of Quebec, and Burgoyne had done just as Bathurst had said, it had gone through Gates like a knife and down the Hudson to join Howe. But hare Bathurst I asked, how could that affect the situation in Europe, America is thousands of miles away across the ocean? Ideas can cross oceans quicker than armies, when Louis XVI decided to come to the aid of the Americans he doomed himself and his regime. A successful resistance to royal authority in America was all the French Republicans needed to inspire them. Of course we have Louis' own weakness to blame too, if he'd given those rascals a whiff of grapeshot when the mob tried to storm Versailles in 1790 that had been no French Revolution. But he had. When Louis XVI thought of the Howitz has turned on the mob of Versailles and then sent the Dagoons to ride down the survivors the Republican movement had been broken. That had been when Cardinal Tallyrand, who was then merely Bishop of Orton, had come to the fore and become the power that he is today in France, the greatest king's minister since Rischleur. And after that Louis' death followed as surely as night after day, Bathurst was saying. And because the French had no experience in self-government their republic was foredoomed, if Bonaparte hadn't seized power somebody else would have, when the French murdered their king they delivered themselves to dictatorship, and a dictator unsupported by the prestige of royalty has no choice but to lead his people into foreign war to keep them from turning upon him. It was like that all the way to Berlin. All these things seemed foolish by daylight, but as I sat in the darkness of that swaying coach I was almost convinced of the reality of what he told me. I tell you Uncle Oigen it was frightening as though he were giving me a view of hell. Got in him all the things that man talked of, armies swarming over Europe, sack and massacre and cities burning, blockades and starvation, kings deposed, and thrones tumbling like ten bins, battles in which the soldiers of every nation fought and in which tens of thousands were mowed down like ripe grain, and over all the satanic figure of a little man in a grey coat who dictated peace to the Austrian emperor in Schoenborn and carried the Pope away a prisoner to Savona. "Madman eh, unrealistic belief says Hartenstein; I'll give me madmen who drool spittle and foam at the mouth and shriek obscene blasphemies, but not this pleasant seeming gentlemen who sat beside me and talked of horrors in a quiet, cultured voice while he drank my cognac." Hey Amazon Prime members! Why pay more for groceries when you can save big on thousands of items at Amazon Fresh? Shop Prime exclusive deals and save up to 50% on weekly grocery favorites. Plus save 10% on Amazon Brands, like our new brand Amazon Saver, 365 by Whole Foods Market, a plenty and more. Come back for new deals rotating every week. Don't miss out on savings. Shop Prime exclusive deals at Amazon Fresh. Select varieties. There's only one feeling like the traditions of baseball. From creating memories with your family, to the joy of being with fellow fans, the taste of your first hot dog of the season, and the excitement of catching your first foul ball. Baseball brings communities together, and as your hometown bank, we support the home town team. We're proud to be the official bank of the Colorado Rockies. Bank of Colorado, there's only one. Remember FDIC. But not all my cognac. If your man at the ministry, the one with red hair and the bald-dog face, tells you that I was drunk when I brought in that Englishman, you had better believe him. Rudy. Come count von Bushton vault to the British Minister, 28th of November 1809. On it, sir. The accompanying dossier will acquaint you with the problem confronting this chancellery with our needless repetition on my part. Please to understand that it is not and never was any part of the intentions of the government of his Majesty Friedrich Wilhelm III, to offer any injury or indignity to the government of his Britannic Majesty George III. We would never contemplate holding an arrest the person or tampering with the papers of an accredited envoy of your government. However, we have the grave as dark to make a considerable understatement that this person who calls himself Benjamin Bathurst is any such envoy, and we do not think that it would be any service to the government of his Britannic Majesty to allow an imposter to travel about Europe in the guise of a British diplomatic representative. We certainly should not thank the government of his Britannic Majesty for failing to take steps to deal with some person who, in England, might falsely represent himself to be a Prussian diplomat. This affair touches us as closely as it does your own government. This man had in his possession a letter of safe conduct which we will find in the accompanying dispatch case. It is of the regular form as issued by this chancellery and is sealed with the chancellery seal or with the very exact counterfeit of it. However, it has been signed as Chancellor of Prussia with the signature indistinguishable from that of the Baron Stein, who is the present Prussian minister for agriculture. Baron Stein was shown the signature with the rest of the letter covered, and without hesitation acknowledged it for his own writing. However, when the letter was uncovered and shown to him, his surprise and horror was such as would require the pen of a gutter or a shiller to describe, and he denied categorically ever having seen the document before. I have no choice but to believe him. It is impossible to think that a man of Baron Stein's honourable and serious character would be partied to the fabrication of a paper of this sort. Even aside from this, I am in the thing as deeply as he is. If it is signed with his signature it is also sealed with my seal which has not been out of my personal keeping in the ten years that I have been Chancellor here. In fact the word 'impossible' can be used to describe the entire business. It was impossible for the man Benjamin Bathus to have entered the Inyard yet he did. It was impossible that he should carry papers of the sort found in his dispatch case or that such papers should exist, yet I am sending them to you with his letter. It is impossible that Baron von Stein would sign a paper of the sort he did or that it should be sealed by the Chancellor, yet it bears both signed signature and my steel. You will also find in the dispatch case other credentials ostensibly originating with the British Foreign Office of the same character, being signed by persons having no connection with the foreign office or even with the government, but being sealed with apparently authentic seals. If you send these papers to London I fancy you will find that they will there create the same situation as that caused here by this letter of safe conduct. I am also sending you a charcoal sketch of the person who calls himself Benjamin Bathus. This portrait was taken without its subject's knowledge. Baron von Kritz's nephew left tenant von Talberg, who is the son of our mutual friend Count von Talberg, has a little friend, a very clever young lady, who is, as you will see, an expert at this sort of work. She was introduced into a room at the Ministry of Police and placed behind a screen where she could sketch our prisoners' face. If you should send this picture to London I think that there is a good chance that it might be recognized, I can vouch that it is an excellent likeness. To tell the truth we are at our wits end about this affair. I cannot understand how such excellent imitations of these various seals could be made, and the signature of the Baron von Stein is the most expert forgery that I have ever seen in thirty years' experiences as statesmen. This would indicate careful and painstaking work on the part of somebody. How, then, do we reconcile this with such clumsy mistakes, recognizable as such by any schoolboy, assigning the name of Baron Stein as Prussian Chancellor, or Mr. George Canning, who is a member of the Opposition Party and not connected with your government, has British Foreign Secretary. These are mistakes which only a madman would make. There are those who think our prisoner is mad because of his apparent delusions about the great conqueror general of Bonaparte, alias the Emperor Napoleon. Madman have been known to fabricate evidence to support their delusions, it's true, but I shudder to think of a madman having at his disposal resources to manufacture the papers you will find in this dispatch case. Moreover, some of our foremost medical men who have specialised in the disorders of the mind have interviewed this man-bathist and say that, save for his fixed belief in a non-existent situation, he is perfectly sane. Personally, I believe that the whole thing is a gigantic hoax, perpetrated for some hidden and sinister purpose, possibly to create confusion and to undermine the confidence existing between your government and mine and to set against one another various persons connected with both governments, or else is a mask for some other conspiratorial activity. Only a few months ago you will recall there was a Jacobin plot unmasked at calm. But whatever this business may portend, I do not like it, I want to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible and I will thank you, my dear sir, and your government, for any assistance you may find possible. I have the honour, sir, to be, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, worked and vault. From Baron von Kritz to the Count von Buchtenwald, most urgent, most important, to be delivered immediately and in person regardless of circumstances (28th of November 1809). Count von Buchtenwald. Within the past half-hour, that is, at about eleven o'clock tonight, the man calling himself Benjamin Bathist was shot and killed by a century at the Ministry of Police while attempting to escape from custody. A century on duty in the rear courtyard of the Ministry observed a man attempting to leave the building in a suspicious and furtive manner. The century, who was under the strictest orders to allow no one to enter or leave without written authorization, challenged him. When he attempted to run, the century fired his musket at him, bringing him down. At the shot, the sergeant of the guard rushed into the courtyard with his detail and the man whom the century had shot was found to be the Englishman Benjamin Bathist. He had been hit in the chest with an ounce ball and died before the doctor could arrive and without recovering consciousness. An investigation revealed that the prisoner, who was confined to the third floor of the building, had fashioned a rope from his bedding, his bedcord, and the leather strap of his bell-pull. This rope was only long enough to reach to the window of the office on the second floor directly below, but he managed to enter this by kicking the glass out of the window. I'm trying to find out how he could do this without being heard. I can assure you that somebody is going to smart for this night's work. As for the century he acted within his orders. I have commended him for doing his duty and for good shooting, and I assume full responsibility for the death of the prisoner at his hands. I have no idea why the self-so-called Benjamin Bathist, who until now was well behaved and seemed to take his confinement philosophically, should suddenly make this rash and fatal attempt, unless it was because of those infernal dunderheads of madhouse doctors who have been bothering him. Only this afternoon they deliberately handed him a bundle of newspapers, Prussian, Austrian, French and English, all dated within the last month. They wanted, they said, to see how he would react. Well, God pardon them, they found out. What do you think should be done about giving the body burial? Critz. From the British minister to the Count von Birkton vault, December 20, 1809. My dear Count von Birkton vault. Reply from London to my letter of the 28th, which a company the dispatch case in the other papers has finally come to hand. The papers which you wanted returned, the copies of the statements taken at Perleberg, the letter to the Baron von Kritz from the police captain, Hartenstein, and the personal letter of Kritz's nephew, Lieutenant von Talberg, and the letter of safe conduct found in the dispatch case a company here with. I don't know what the people at Whitehall did with the other papers, tossed them into the nearest fire, for my guess, where I in your place that's where the papers I am returning would go. I have heard nothing yet from my dispatch of the 29th concerning the death of the man who called himself Benjamin Bathurst, but I doubt very much of any official notice will ever be taken of it. Your government had a perfect right to detain the fellow, and that being the case he attempted to escape at his own risk. After all, centuries are not required to carry loaded muskets in order to discourage them from putting their hands in their pockets. To hazard a purely unofficial opinion I should not imagine that London is very much dissatisfied with this denouement. His Majesty's government are a hard-headed and matter-of-fact set of gentry who do not relish mysteries, least of all mysteries whose solution may be more disturbing than the original problem. This is entirely confidential, but those papers which were in that dispatch case kicked up the devil's own drow in London, with half the government bigweeks protesting their innocence to high heaven and the rest accusing one another of complicity in the hoax. If that was somebody's intention it was literally a howling success. For a while it was even feared that there would be questions in Parliament, but eventually the whole vexatious business was hunched. You may tell Tom Tolberg's son that his little friend is a most talented young lady, her sketch was highly commended by no less an authority than Sir Thomas Lawrence, and here comes the most bedeviling part of a thoroughly bedeviled business. The picture was instantly recognized. It is a very fair likeness of Benjamin Bathurst, or should I say Sir Benjamin Bathurst, who is King's Lieutenant Governor for the Crown Colony of Georgia. As Sir Thomas Lawrence did his portrait a few years back, he is in an excellent position to criticise the work of Lieutenant von Tarberg's young lady. However Sir Benjamin Bathurst was known to have been in Savannah attending to the duties of his office, and in the public eye all the while that his stubble was in Prussia. Sir Benjamin does not have a twin brother. It has been suggested that this fellow might be a half-brother, but as far as I know there is no justification for this theory. The general Bonaparte, alias the Emperor Napoleon, who is given so much mention in the dispatches, seems also to have a counterpart in actual life. There is, in the French army, a colonel of artillery by that name, a Corsican who gallicized his original name of Napoleon de Bonaparte. He is a most brilliant military theoretician. I am sure some of your own officers like General Scharnhorst could tell you about him. His loyalty to the French monarchy has never been questioned. This same correspondence to fact seems to crop up everywhere in that amazing election of pseudo-dispatches and pseudo-state papers. The United States of America, you will recall, was the style by which the rebellious colonies refer to themselves in the Declaration of Philadelphia. The James Madison, who is mentioned as the current President of the United States, is now living in exile in Switzerland. His alleged predecessor in office, Thomas Jefferson, was the author of the Rebel Declaration. After the defeat of the rebels he escaped to Havana and died several years ago in the principality of Lichtgenstein. I was quite amused to find our old friend Cardinal Talirand, without the ecclesiastical title, cast in the role of chief adviser to the usurper Bonaparte. His eminence, I have always thought, is the sort of fellow who would land on his feet on top of any heath, and who would as little scruple to be prime minister to his satanic majesty as to his most Christian majesty. I was baffled however by one name frequently mentioned in these fantastic papers. This was the English General Wellington. I haven't the least idea who this person might be. I have the honour, your excellency, etc, etc, etc. Sir Arthur Wellesley. End of He Walked Around the Horses By H.B.M. Piper. Hey Amazon Prime Members! Why pay more for groceries when you can save big on thousands of items at Amazon Fresh? Shop Prime exclusive deals and save up to 50% on weekly grocery favourites. Plus save 10% on Amazon Brands, like our new brand Amazon Saver, 365 by Whole Foods Market, a plenty and more. Come back for new deals rotating every week. Don't miss out on savings. Shop Prime exclusive deals at Amazon Fresh. Select varieties. There's only one feeling like the traditions of baseball. From creating memories with your family, to the joy of being with fellow fans, the taste of your first hot dog of the season and the excitement of catching your first foul ball. Baseball brings communities together and as your hometown bank we support the hometown team. We're proud to be the official bank of the Colorado Rockies. Bank of Colorado, there's only one. Remember FDIC.