filled his mind as he realized that the child’s pathetic condition was
the direct result of his self-sacrificing attempt to save his king.
Barney felt much like a murderer and a thief, and dreaded the time when
the boy should be brought to a realization of his mistake.
He had come to feel a warm affection for the loyal little lad, who had
suffered so uncomplainingly and whose every thought had been for the
safety and comfort of his king.
Today, thought Barney, I’ll take this child through to Lustadt even if
every ragged brigand in Lutha lies between us and the capital; but even
as he spoke a sudden crashing of underbrush behind caused him to wheel
about, and there, not twenty paces from them, stood two of Yellow
Franz’s cutthroats.
At sight of Barney and the lad they gave voice to a shout of triumph,
and raising their carbines fired point-blank at the two fugitives.
But Barney had been equally as quick with his own weapon, and at the
moment that they fired he grasped Rudolph and dragged him backward to a
great boulder behind which their bodies might be protected from the
fire of their enemies.
Both the bullets of the bandits’ first volley had been directed at
Barney, for it was upon his head that the great price rested. They had
missed him by a narrow margin, due, perhaps, to the fact that the
mounts of the brigands had been prancing in alarm at the unexpected
sight of the two strangers at the very moment that their riders
attempted to take aim and fire.
But now they had ridden back into the brush and dismounted, and after
hiding their ponies they came creeping out upon their bellies upon
opposite sides of Barney’s shelter.
The American saw that it would be an easy thing for them to pick him
off if he remained where he was, and so with a word to Rudolph he
sprang up and the boy with him. Each delivered a quick shot at the
bandit nearest him, and then together they broke for the bushes in
which the brigand’s mounts were hidden.
Two shots answered theirs. Rudolph, who was ahead of Barney, stumbled
and threw up his hands. He would have fallen had not the American
thrown a strong arm about him.
“I’m shot, your majesty,” murmured the boy, his head dropping against
Barney’s breast.
With the lad grasped close to him, the young man turned at the edge of
the brush to meet the charge of the two ruffians. The wounding of the
youth had delayed them just enough to preclude their making this
temporary refuge in safety.
As Barney turned both the men fired simultaneously, and both missed.
The American raised his revolver, and with the flash of it the foremost
brigand came to a sudden stop. An expression of bewilderment crossed
his features. He extended his arms straight before him, the revolver
slipped from his grasp, and then like a dying top he pivoted once
drunkenly and collapsed upon the turf.
At the instant of his fall his companion and the American fired
point-blank at one another.
Barney felt a burning sensation in his shoulder, but it was forgotten
for the moment in the relief that came to him as he saw the second
rascal sprawl headlong upon his face. Then he turned his attention to
the limp little figure that hung across his left arm.
Gently Barney laid the boy upon the sward, and fetching water from the
pool bathed his face and forced a few drops between the white lips. The
cooling draft revived the wounded child, but brought on a paroxysm of
coughing. When this had subsided Rudolph raised his eyes to those of
the man bending above him.
“Thank God, your majesty is unharmed,” he whispered. “Now I can die in
peace.”
The white lids drooped lower, and with a tired sigh the boy lay quiet.
Tears came to the young man’s eyes as he let the limp body gently to
the ground.
“Brave little heart,” he murmured, “you gave up your life in the
service of your king as truly as though you had not been all mistaken
in the object of your veneration, and if it lies within the power of
Barney Custer you shall not have died in vain.”
VII.
THE REAL LEOPOLD
Two hours later a horseman pushed his way between tumbled and tangled
briers along the bottom of a deep ravine.
He was hatless, and his stained and ragged khaki betokened much
exposure to the elements and hard and continued usage. At his
saddle-bow a carbine swung in its boot, and upon either hip was
strapped a long revolver. Ammunition in plenty filled the cross belts
that he had looped about his shoulders.
Grim and warlike as were his trappings, no less grim was the set of his
strong jaw or the glint of his gray eyes, nor did the patch of brown
stain that had soaked through the left shoulder of his jacket tend to
lessen the martial atmosphere which surrounded him. Fortunate it was
for the brigands of the late Yellow Franz that none of them chanced in
the path of Barney Custer that day.
For nearly two hours the man had ridden downward out of the high hills
in search of a dwelling at which he might ask the way to Tann; but as
yet he had passed but a single house, and that a long untenanted ruin.
He was wondering what had become of all the inhabitants of Lutha when
his horse came to a sudden halt before an obstacle which entirely
blocked the narrow trail at the bottom of the ravine.
As the horseman’s eyes fell upon the thing they went wide in
astonishment, for it was no less than the charred remnants of the once
beautiful gray roadster that had brought him into this twentieth
century land of medieval adventure and intrigue. Barney saw that the
machine had been lifted from where it had fallen across the horse of
the Princess von der Tann, for the animal’s decaying carcass now lay
entirely clear of it; but why this should have been done, or by whom,
the young man could not imagine.
A glance aloft showed him the road far above him, from which he, the
horse and the roadster had catapulted; and with the sight of it there
flashed to his mind the fair face of the young girl in whose service
the thing had happened. Barney wondered if Joseph had been successful
in returning her to Tann, and he wondered, too, if she mourned for the
man she had thought king—if she would be very angry should she ever
learn the truth.
Then there came to the American’s mind the figure of the shopkeeper of
Tafelberg, and the fellow’s evident loyalty to the mad king he had
never seen. Here was one who might aid him, thought Barney. He would
have the will, at least, and with the thought the young man turned his
pony’s head diagonally up the steep ravine side.
It was a tough and dangerous struggle to the road above, but at last by
dint of strenuous efforts on the part of the sturdy little beast the
two finally scrambled over the edge of the road and stood once more
upon level footing.
After breathing his mount for a few minutes Barney swung himself into
the saddle again and set off toward Tafelberg. He met no one upon the
road, nor within the outskirts of the village, and so he came to the
door of the shop he sought without attracting attention.
Swinging to the ground he tied the pony to one of the supporting
columns of the porch-roof and a moment later had stepped within the
shop.
From a back room the shopkeeper presently emerged, and when he saw who
it was that stood before him his eyes went wide in consternation.
“In the name of all the saints, your majesty,” cried the old fellow,
“what has happened? How comes it that you are out of the hospital, and
travel-stained as though from a long, hard ride? I cannot understand
it, sire.”
“Hospital?” queried the young man. “What do you mean, my good fellow? I
have been in no hospital.”
“You were there only last evening when I inquired after you of the
doctor,” insisted the shopkeeper, “nor did any there yet suspect your
true identity.”
“Last evening I was hiding far up in the mountains from Yellow Franz’s
band of cutthroats,” replied Barney. “Tell me what manner of riddle you
are propounding.”
Then a sudden light of understanding flashed through Barney’s mind.
“Man!” he exclaimed. “Tell me—you have found the true king? He is at a
hospital in Tafelberg?”
“Yes, your majesty, I have found the true king, and it is so that he
was at the Tafelberg sanatorium last evening. It was beside the
remnants of your wrecked automobile that two of the men of Tafelberg
found you.
“One leg was pinioned beneath the machine which was on fire when they
discovered you. They brought you to my shop, which is the first on the
road into town, and not guessing your true identity they took my word
for it that you were an old acquaintance of mine and without more ado
turned you over to my care.”
Barney scratched his head in puzzled bewilderment. He began to doubt if
he were in truth himself, or, after all, Leopold of Lutha. As no one
but himself could, by the wildest stretch of imagination, have been in
such a position, he was almost forced to the conclusion that all that
had passed since the instant that his car shot over the edge of the
road into the ravine had been but the hallucinations of a fever-excited
brain, and that for the past three weeks he had been lying in a
hospital cot instead of experiencing the strange and inexplicable
adventures that he had believed to have befallen him.
But yet the more he thought of it the more ridiculous such a conclusion
appeared, for it did not in the least explain the pony tethered
without, which he plainly could see from where he stood within the
shop, nor did it satisfactorily account for the blotch of blood upon
his shoulder from a wound so fresh that the stain still was damp; nor
for the sword which Joseph had buckled about his waist within Blentz’s
forbidding walls; nor for the arms and ammunition he had taken from the
dead brigands—all of which he had before him as tangible evidence of
the rationality of the past few weeks.
“My friend,” said Barney at last, “I cannot wonder that you have
mistaken me for the king, since all those I have met within Lutha have
leaped to the same error, though not one among them made the slightest
pretense of ever having seen his majesty. A ridiculous beard started
the trouble, and later a series of happenings, no one of which was
particularly remarkable in itself, aggravated it, until but a moment
since I myself was almost upon the point of believing that I am the
king.
“But, my dear Herr Kramer, I am not the king; and when you have
accompanied me to the hospital and seen that your patient still is
there, you may be willing to admit that there is some justification for
doubt as to my royalty.”
The old man shook his head.
“I am not so sure of that,” he said, “for he who lies at the hospital,
providing you are not he, or he you, maintains as sturdily as do you
that he is not Leopold. If one of you, whichever be king—providing that
you are not one and the same, and that I be not the only maniac in the
sad muddle—if one of you would but trust my loyalty and love for the
true king and admit your identity, then I might be of some real service
to that one of you who is really Leopold. Herr Gott! My words are as
mixed as my poor brain.”
“If you will listen to me, Herr Kramer,” said Barney, “and believe what
I tell you, I shall be able to unscramble your ideas in so far as they
pertain to me and my identity. As to the man you say was found beneath
my car, and who now lies in the sanatorium of Tafelberg, I cannot say
until I have seen and talked with him. He may be the king and he may
not; but if he insists that he is not, I shall be the last to wish a
kingship upon him. I know from sad experience the hardships and burdens
that the thing entails.”
Then Barney narrated carefully and in detail the principal events of
his life, from his birth in Beatrice to his coming to Lutha upon
pleasure. He showed Herr Kramer his watch with his monogram upon it,
his seal ring, and inside the pocket of his coat the label of his
tailor, with his own name written beneath it and the date that the
garment had been ordered.
When he had completed his narrative the old man shook his head.
“I cannot understand it,” he said; “and yet I am almost forced to
believe that you are not the king.”
“Direct me to the sanatorium,” suggested Barney, “and if it be within
the range of possibility I shall learn whether the man who lies there
is Leopold or another, and if he be the king I shall serve him as
loyally as you would have served me. Together we may assist him to gain
the safety of Tann and the protection of old Prince Ludwig.”
“If you are not the king,” said Kramer suspiciously, “why should you be
so interested in aiding Leopold? You may even be an enemy. How can I
know?”
“You cannot know, my good friend,” replied Barney. “But had I been an
enemy, how much more easily might I have encompassed my designs,
whatever they might have been, had I encouraged you to believe that I
was king. The fact that I did not, must assure you that I have no
ulterior designs against Leopold.”
This line of reasoning proved quite convincing to the old shopkeeper,
and at last he consented to lead Barney to the sanatorium. Together
they traversed the quiet village streets to the outskirts of the town,
where in large, park-like grounds the well-known sanatorium of
Tafelberg is situated in quiet surroundings. It is an institution for
the treatment of nervous diseases to which patients are brought from
all parts of Europe, and is doubtless Lutha’s principal claim upon the
attention of the outer world.
As the two crossed the gardens which lay between the gate and the main
entrance and mounted the broad steps leading to the veranda an old
servant opened the door, and recognizing Herr Kramer, nodded pleasantly
to him.
“Your patient seems much brighter this morning, Herr Kramer,” he said,
“and has been asking to be allowed to sit up.”
“He is still here, then?” questioned the shopkeeper with a sigh that
might have indicated either relief or resignation.
“Why, certainly. You did not expect that he had entirely recovered
overnight, did you?”
“No,” replied Herr Kramer, “not exactly. In fact, I did not know what I
should expect.”
As the two passed him on their way to the room in which the patient
lay, the servant eyed Herr Kramer in surprise, as though wondering what
had occurred to his mentality since he had seen him the previous day.
He paid no attention to Barney other than to bow to him as he passed,
but there was another who did—an attendant standing in the hallway
through which the two men walked toward the private room where one of
them expected to find the real mad king of Lutha.
He was a dark-visaged fellow, sallow and small-eyed; and as his glance
rested upon the features of the American a puzzled expression crossed
his face. He let his gaze follow the two as they moved on up the
corridor until they turned in at the door of the room they sought, then
he followed them, entering an apartment next to that in which Herr
Kramer’s patient lay.
As Barney and the shopkeeper entered the small, whitewashed room, the
former saw upon the narrow iron cot the figure of a man of about his
own height. The face that turned toward them as they entered was
covered by a full, reddish-brown beard, and the eyes that looked up at
them in troubled surprise were gray. Beyond these Barney could see no
likenesses to himself; yet they were sufficient, he realized, to have
deceived any who might have compared one solely to the printed
description of the other.
At the doorway Kramer halted, motioning Barney within.
“It will be better if you talk with him alone,” he said. “I am sure
that before both of us he will admit nothing.”
Barney nodded, and the shopkeeper of Tafelberg withdrew and closed the
door behind him. The American approached the bedside with a cheery
“Good morning.”
The man returned the salutation with a slight inclination of his head.
There was a questioning look in his eyes; but dominating that was a
pitiful, hunted expression that touched the American’s heart.
The man’s left hand lay upon the coverlet. Barney glanced at the third
finger. About it was a plain gold band. There was no royal ring of the
kings of Lutha in evidence, yet that was no indication that the man was
not Leopold; for were he the king and desirous of concealing his
identity, his first act would be to remove every symbol of his
kingship.
Barney took the hand in his.
“They tell me that you are well on the road to recovery,” he said. “I
am very glad that it is so.”
“Who are you?” asked the man.
“I am Bernard Custer, an American. You were found beneath my car at the
bottom of a ravine. I feel that I owe you full reparation for the
injuries you received, though it is beyond me how you happened to be
found under the machine. Unless I am truly mad, I was the only occupant
of the roadster when it plunged over the embankment.”
“It is very simple,” replied the man upon the cot. “I chanced to be at
the bottom of the ravine at the time and the car fell upon me.”
“What were you doing at the bottom of the ravine?” asked Barney quite
suddenly, after the manner of one who administers a third degree.
The man started and flushed with suspicion.
“That is my own affair,” he said.
He tried to disengage his hand from Barney’s, and as he did so the
American felt something within the fingers of the other. For an instant
his own fingers tightened upon those that lay within them, so that as
the others were withdrawn his index finger pressed close upon the thing
that had aroused his curiosity.
It was a large setting turned inward upon the third finger of the left
hand. The gold band that Barney had seen was but the opposite side of
the same ring.
A quick look of comprehension came to Barney’s eyes. The man upon the
cot evidently noted it and rightly interpreted its cause, for, having
freed his hand, he now slipped it quickly beneath the coverlet.
“I have passed through a series of rather remarkable adventures since I
came to Lutha,” said Barney apparently quite irrelevantly, after the
two had remained silent for a moment. “Shortly after my car fell upon
you I was mistaken for the fugitive King Leopold by the young lady
whose horse fell into the ravine with my car. She is a most loyal
supporter of the king, being none other than the Princess Emma von der
Tann. From her I learned to espouse the cause of Leopold.”
Step by step Barney took the man through the adventures that had
befallen him during the past three weeks, closing with the story of the
death of the boy, Rudolph.
“Above his dead body I swore to serve Leopold of Lutha as loyally as
the poor, mistaken child had served me, your majesty,” and Barney
looked straight into the eyes of him who lay upon the little iron cot.
For a moment the man held his eyes upon those of the American, but
finally, under the latter’s steady gaze, they dropped and wandered.
“Why do you address me as ‘your majesty’?” he asked irritably.
“With my forefinger I felt the ruby and the four wings of the setting
of the royal ring of the kings of Lutha upon the third finger of your
left hand,” replied Barney.
The king started up upon his elbow, his eyes wild with apprehension.
“It is not so,” he cried. “It is a lie! I am not the king.”
“Hush!” admonished Barney. “You have nothing to fear from me. There are
good friends and loyal subjects in plenty to serve and protect your
majesty, and place you upon the throne that has been stolen from you. I
have sworn to serve you. The old shopkeeper, Herr Kramer, who brought
me here, is an honest, loyal old soul. He would die for you, your
majesty. Trust us. Let us help you. Tomorrow, Kramer tells me, Peter of
Blentz is to have himself crowned as king in the cathedral at Lustadt.
“Will you sit supinely by and see another rob you of your kingdom, and
then continue to rob and throttle your subjects as he has been doing
for the past ten years? No, you will not. Even if you do not want the
crown, you were born to the duties and obligations it entails, and for
the sake of your people you must assume them now.”
“How am I to know that you are not another of the creatures of that
fiend of Blentz?” cried the king. “How am I to know that you will not
drag me back to the terrors of that awful castle, and to the poisonous
potions of the new physician Peter has employed to assassinate me? I
can trust none.
“Go away and leave me. I do not want to be king. I wish only to go away
as far from Lutha as I can get and pass the balance of my life in peace
and security. Peter may have the crown. He is welcome to it, for all of
me. All I ask is my life and my liberty.”
Barney saw that while the king was evidently of sound mind, his was not
one of those iron characters and courageous hearts that would willingly
fight to the death for his own rights and the rights and happiness of
his people. Perhaps the long years of bitter disappointment and misery,
the tedious hours of imprisonment, and the constant haunting fears for
his life had reduced him to this pitiable condition.
Whatever the cause, Barney Custer was determined to overcome the man’s
aversion to assuming the duties which were rightly his, for in his
memory were the words of Emma von der Tann, in which she had made plain
to him the fate that would doubtless befall her father and his house
were Peter of Blentz to become king of Lutha. Then, too, there was the
life of the little peasant boy. Was that to be given up uselessly for a
king with so mean a spirit that he would not take a scepter when it was
forced upon him?
And the people of Lutha? Were they to be further and continually robbed
and downtrodden beneath the heel of Peter’s scoundrelly officials
because their true king chose to evade the responsibilities that were
his by birth?
For half an hour Barney pleaded and argued with the king, until he
infused in the weak character of the young man a part of his own
tireless enthusiasm and courage. Leopold commenced to take heart and
see things in a brighter and more engaging light. Finally he became
quite excited about the prospects, and at last Barney obtained a
willing promise from him that he would consent to being placed upon his
throne and would go to Lustadt at any time that Barney should come for
him with a force from the retainers of Prince Ludwig von der Tann.
“Let us hope,” cried the king, “that the luck of the reigning house of
Lutha has been at last restored. Not since my aunt, the Princess
Victoria, ran away with a foreigner has good fortune shone upon my
house. It was when my father was still a young man—before he had yet
come to the throne—and though his reign was marked with great peace and
prosperity for the people of Lutha, his own private fortunes were most
unhappy.
“My mother died at my birth, and the last days of my father’s life were
filled with suffering from the cancer that was slowly killing him. Let
us pray, Herr Custer, that you have brought new life to the fortunes of
my house.”
“Amen, your majesty,” said Barney. “And now I’ll be off for Tann—there
must not be a moment lost if we are to bring you to Lustadt in time for
the coronation. Herr Kramer will watch over you, but as none here
guesses your true identity you are safer here than anywhere else in
Lutha. Good-bye, your majesty. Be of good heart. We’ll have you on the
road to Lustadt and the throne tomorrow morning.”
After Barney Custer had closed the door of the king’s chamber behind
him and hurried down the corridor, the door of the room next the king’s
opened quietly and a dark-visaged fellow, sallow and small-eyed,
emerged. Upon his lips was a smile of cunning satisfaction, as he
hastened to the office of the medical director and obtained a leave of
absence for twenty-four hours.
VIII.
THE CORONATION DAY
Toward dusk of the day upon which the mad king of Lutha had been found,
a dust-covered horseman reined in before the great gate of the castle
of Prince Ludwig von der Tann. The unsettled political conditions which
overhung the little kingdom of Lutha were evident in the return to
medievalism which the raised portcullis and the armed guard upon the
barbican of the ancient feudal fortress revealed. Not for a hundred
years before had these things been done other than as a part of the
ceremonials of a fete day, or in honor of visiting royalty.
At the challenge from the gate Barney replied that he bore a message
for the prince. Slowly the portcullis sank into position across the
moat and an officer advanced to meet the rider.
“The prince has ridden to Lustadt with a large retinue,” he said, “to
attend the coronation of Peter of Blentz tomorrow.”
“Prince Ludwig von der Tann has gone to attend the coronation of
Peter!” cried Barney in amazement. “Has the Princess Emma returned from
her captivity in the castle of Blentz?”
“She is with her father now, having returned nearly three weeks ago,”
replied the officer, “and Peter has disclaimed responsibility for the
outrage, promising that those responsible shall be punished. He has
convinced Prince Ludwig that Leopold is dead, and for the sake of
Lutha—to save her from civil strife—my prince has patched a truce with
Peter; though unless I mistake the character of the latter and the
temper of the former it will be short-lived.
“To demonstrate to the people,” continued the officer, “that Prince
Ludwig and Peter are good friends, the great Von der Tann will attend
the coronation, but that he takes little stock in the sincerity of the
Prince of Blentz would be apparent could the latter have a peep beneath
the cloaks and look into the loyal hearts of the men of Tann who rode
down to Lustadt today.”
Barney did not wait to hear more. He was glad that in the gathering
dusk the officer had not seen his face plainly enough to mistake him
for the king. With a parting, “Then I must ride to Lustadt with my
message for the prince,” he wheeled his tired mount and trotted down
the steep trail from Tann toward the highway which leads to the
capital.
All night Barney rode. Three times he wandered from the way and was
forced to stop at farmhouses to inquire the proper direction; but
darkness hid his features from the sleepy eyes of those who answered
his summons, and daylight found him still forging ahead in the
direction of the capital of Lutha.
The American was sunk in unhappy meditation as his weary little mount
plodded slowly along the dusty road. For hours the man had not been
able to urge the beast out of a walk. The loss of time consequent upon
his having followed wrong roads during the night and the exhaustion of
the pony which retarded his speed to what seemed little better than a
snail’s pace seemed to assure the failure of his mission, for at best
he could not reach Lustadt before noon.
There was no possibility of bringing Leopold to his capital in time for
the coronation, and but a bare possibility that Prince Ludwig would
accept the word of an entire stranger that Leopold lived, for the
acknowledgment of such a condition by the old prince could result in
nothing less than an immediate resort to arms by the two factions. It
was certain that Peter would be infinitely more anxious to proceed with
his coronation should it be rumored that Leopold lived, and equally
certain that Prince Ludwig would interpose every obstacle, even to
armed resistance, to prevent the consummation of the ceremony.
Yet there seemed to Barney no other alternative than to place before
the king’s one powerful friend the information that he had. It would
then rest with Ludwig to do what he thought advisable.
An hour from Lustadt the road wound through a dense forest, whose
pleasant shade was a grateful relief to both horse and rider from the
hot sun beneath which they had been journeying the greater part of the
morning. Barney was still lost in thought, his eyes bent forward, when
at a sudden turning of the road he came face to face with a troop of
horse that were entering the main highway at this point from an
unfrequented byroad.
At sight of them the American instinctively wheeled his mount in an
effort to escape, but at a command from an officer a half dozen
troopers spurred after him, their fresh horses soon overtaking his
jaded pony.
For a moment Barney contemplated resistance, for these were troopers of
the Royal Horse, the body which was now Peter’s most effective personal
tool; but even as his hand slipped to the butt of one of the revolvers
at his hip, the young man saw the foolish futility of such a course,
and with a shrug and a smile he drew rein and turned to face the
advancing soldiers.
As he did so the officer rode up, and at sight of Barney’s face gave an
exclamation of astonishment. The officer was Butzow.
“Well met, your majesty,” he cried saluting. “We are riding to the
coronation. We shall be just in time.”
“To see Peter of Blentz rob Leopold of a crown,” said the American in a
disgusted tone.
“To see Leopold of Lutha come into his own, your majesty. Long live the
king!” cried the officer.
Barney thought the man either poking fun at him because he was not the
king, or, thinking he was Leopold, taking a mean advantage of his
helplessness to bait him. Yet this last suspicion seemed unfair to
Butzow, who at Blentz had given ample evidence that he was a gentleman,
and of far different caliber from Maenck and the others who served
Peter.
If he could but convince the man that he was no king and thus gain his
liberty long enough to reach Prince Ludwig’s ear, his mission would
have been served in so far as it lay in his power to serve it. For some
minutes Barney expended his best eloquence and logic upon the cavalry
officer in an effort to convince him that he was not Leopold.
The king had given the American his great ring to safeguard for him
until it should be less dangerous for Leopold to wear it, and for fear
that at the last moment someone within the sanatorium might recognize
it and bear word to Peter of the king’s whereabouts. Barney had worn it
turned in upon the third finger of his left hand, and now he slipped it
surreptitiously into his breeches pocket lest Butzow should see it and
by it be convinced that Barney was indeed Leopold.
“Never mind who you are,” cried Butzow, thinking to humor the king’s
strange obsession. “You look enough like Leopold to be his twin, and
you must help us save Lutha from Peter of Blentz.”
The American showed in his expression the surprise he felt at these
words from an officer of the prince regent.
“You wonder at my change of heart?” asked Butzow.
“How can I do otherwise?”
“I cannot blame you,” said the officer. “Yet I think that when you know
the truth you will see that I have done only that which I believed to
be the duty of a patriotic officer and a true gentleman.”
They had rejoined the troop by this time, and the entire company was
once more headed toward Lustadt. Butzow had commanded one of the
troopers to exchange horses with Barney, bringing the jaded animal into
the city slowly, and now freshly mounted the American was making better
time toward his destination. His spirits rose, and as they galloped
along the highway, he listened with renewed interest to the story which
Lieutenant Butzow narrated in detail.
It seemed that Butzow had been absent from Lutha for a number of years
as military attache to the Luthanian legation at a foreign court. He
had known nothing of the true condition at home until his return, when
he saw such scoundrels as Coblich, Maenck, and Stein high in the favor
of the prince regent. For some time before the events that had
transpired after he had brought Barney and the Princess Emma to Blentz
he had commenced to have his doubts as to the true patriotism of Peter
of Blentz; and when he had learned through the unguarded words of
Schonau that there was a real foundation for the rumor that the regent
had plotted the assassination of the king his suspicions had
crystallized into knowledge, and he had sworn to serve his king before
all others—were he sane or mad. From this loyalty he could not be
shaken.
“And what do you intend doing now?” asked Barney.
“I intend placing you upon the throne of your ancestors, sire,” replied
Butzow; “nor will Peter of Blentz dare the wrath of the people by
attempting to interpose any obstacle. When he sees Leopold of Lutha
ride into the capital of his kingdom at the head of even so small a
force as ours he will know that the end of his own power is at hand,
for he is not such a fool that he does not perfectly realize that he is
the most cordially hated man in all Lutha, and that only those attend
upon him who hope to profit through his success or who fear his evil
nature.”
“If Peter is crowned today,” asked Barney, “will it prevent Leopold
regaining his throne?”
“It is difficult to say,” replied Butzow; “but the chances are that the
throne would be lost to him forever. To regain it he would have to
plunge Lutha into a bitter civil war, for once Peter is proclaimed king
he will have the law upon his side, and with the resources of the State
behind him—the treasury and the army—he will feel in no mood to
relinquish the scepter without a struggle. I doubt much that you will
ever sit upon your throne, sire, unless you do so within the very next
hour.”
For some time Barney rode in silence. He saw that only by a master
stroke could the crown be saved for the true king. Was it worth it? The
man was happier without a crown. Barney had come to believe that no man
lived who could be happy in possession of one. Then there came before
his mind’s eye the delicate, patrician face of Emma von der Tann.
Would Peter of Blentz be true to his new promises to the house of Von
der Tann? Barney doubted it. He recalled all that it might mean of
danger and suffering to the girl whose kisses he still felt upon his
lips as though it had been but now that hers had placed them there. He
recalled the limp little body of the boy, Rudolph, and the Spartan
loyalty with which the little fellow had given his life in the service
of the man he had thought king. The pitiful figure of the fear-haunted
man upon the iron cot at Tafelberg rose before him and cried for
vengeance.
To this man was the woman he loved betrothed! He knew that he might
never wed the Princess Emma. Even were she not promised to another, the
iron shackles of convention and age-old customs must forever separate
her from an untitled American. But if he couldn’t have her he still
could serve her!
“For her sake,” he muttered.
“Did your majesty speak?” asked Butzow.
“Yes, lieutenant. We urge greater haste, for if we are to be crowned
today we have no time to lose.”
Butzow smiled a relieved smile. The king had at last regained his
senses!
Within the ancient cathedral at Lustadt a great and gorgeously attired
assemblage had congregated. All the nobles of Lutha were gathered there
with their wives, their children, and their retainers. There were the
newer nobility of the lowlands—many whose patents dated but since the
regency of Peter—and there were the proud nobility of the highlands—the
old nobility of which Prince Ludwig von der Tann was the chief.
It was noticeable that though a truce had been made between Ludwig and
Peter, yet the former chancellor of the kingdom did not stand upon the
chancel with the other dignitaries of the State and court.
Few there were who knew that he had been invited to occupy a place of
honor there, and had replied that he would take no active part in the
making of any king in Lutha whose veins did not pulse to the flow of
the blood of the house in whose service he had grown gray.
Close packed were the retainers of the old prince so that their great
number was scarcely noticeable, though quite so was the fact that they
kept their cloaks on, presenting a somber appearance in the midst of
all the glitter of gold and gleam of jewels that surrounded them—a
grim, business-like appearance that cast a chill upon Peter of Blentz
as his eyes scanned the multitude of faces below him.
He would have shown his indignation at this seeming affront had he
dared; but until the crown was safely upon his head and the royal
scepter in his hand Peter had no mind to do aught that might jeopardize
the attainment of the power he had sought for the past ten years.
The solemn ceremony was all but completed; the Bishop of Lustadt had
received the great golden crown from the purple cushion upon which it
had been borne at the head of the procession which accompanied Peter up
the broad center aisle of the cathedral. He had raised it above the
head of the prince regent, and was repeating the solemn words which
precede the placing of the golden circlet upon the man’s brow. In
another moment Peter of Blentz would be proclaimed the king of Lutha.
By her father’s side stood Emma von der Tann. Upon her haughty,
high-bred face there was no sign of the emotions which ran riot within
her fair bosom. In the act that she was witnessing she saw the eventual
ruin of her father’s house. That Peter would long want for an excuse to
break and humble his ancient enemy she did not believe; but this was
not the only cause for the sorrow that overwhelmed her.
Her most poignant grief, like that of her father, was for the dead
king, Leopold; but to the sorrow of the loyal subject was added the
grief of the loving woman, bereft. Close to her heart she hugged the
memory of the brief hours spent with the man whom she had been taught
since childhood to look upon as her future husband, but for whom the
all-consuming fires of love had only been fanned to life within her
since that moment, now three weeks gone, that he had crushed her to his
breast to cover her lips with kisses for the short moment ere he
sacrificed his life to save her from a fate worse than death.
Before her stood the Nemesis of her dead king. The last act of the
hideous crime against the man she had loved was nearing its close. As
the crown, poised over the head of Peter of Blentz, sank slowly
downward the girl felt that she could scarce restrain her desire to
shriek aloud a protest against the wicked act—the crowning of a
murderer king of her beloved Lutha.
A glance at the old man at her side showed her the stern, commanding
features of her sire molded in an expression of haughty dignity; only
the slight movement of the muscles of the strong jaw revealed the
tensity of the hidden emotions of the stern old warrior. He was meeting
disappointment and defeat as a Von der Tann should—brave to the end.
The crown had all but touched the head of Peter of Blentz when a sudden
commotion at the back of the cathedral caused the bishop to look up in
ill-concealed annoyance. At the sight that met his eyes his hands
halted in mid-air.
The great audience turned as one toward the doors at the end of the
long central aisle. There, through the wide-swung portals, they saw
mounted men forcing their way into the cathedral. The great horses
shouldered aside the foot-soldiers that attempted to bar their way, and
twenty troopers of the Royal Horse thundered to the very foot of the
chancel steps.
At their head rode Lieutenant Butzow and a tall young man in soiled and
tattered khaki, whose gray eyes and full reddish-brown beard brought an
exclamation from Captain Maenck who commanded the guard about Peter of
Blentz.
“Mein Gott—the king!” cried Maenck, and at the words Peter went white.
In open-mouthed astonishment the spectators saw the hurrying troopers
and heard Butzow’s “The king! The king! Make way for Leopold, King of
Lutha!”
And a girl saw, and as she saw her heart leaped to her mouth. Her small
hand gripped the sleeve of her father’s coat. “The king, father,” she
cried. “It is the king.”
Old Von der Tann, the light of a new hope firing his eyes, threw aside
his cloak and leaped to the chancel steps beside Butzow and the others
who were mounting them. Behind him a hundred cloaks dropped from the
shoulders of his fighting men, exposing not silks and satins and fine
velvet, but the coarse tan of khaki, and grim cartridge belts well
filled, and stern revolvers slung to well-worn service belts.
As Butzow and Barney stepped upon the chancel Peter of Blentz leaped
forward. “What mad treason is this?” he fairly screamed.
“The days of treason are now past, prince,” replied Butzow meaningly.
“Here is not treason, but Leopold of Lutha come to claim his crown
which he inherited from his father.”
“It is a plot,” cried Peter, “to place an impostor upon the throne!
This man is not the king.”
For a moment there was silence. The people had not taken sides as yet.
They awaited a leader. Old Von der Tann scrutinized the American
closely.
“How may we know that you are Leopold?” he asked. “For ten years we
have not seen our king.”
“The governor of Blentz has already acknowledged his identity,” cried
Butzow. “Maenck was the first to proclaim the presence of the putative
king.”
At that someone near the chancel cried: “Long live Leopold, king of
Lutha!” and at the words the whole assemblage raised their voices in a
tumultuous: “Long live the king!”
Peter of Blentz turned toward Maenck. “The guard!” he cried. “Arrest
those traitors, and restore order in the cathedral. Let the coronation
proceed.”
Maenck took a step toward Barney and Butzow, when old Prince von der
Tann interposed his giant frame with grim resolve.
“Hold!” He spoke in a low, stern voice that brought the cowardly Maenck
to a sudden halt.
The men of Tann had pressed eagerly forward until they stood, with
bared swords, a solid rank of fighting men in grim semicircle behind
their chief. There were cries from different parts of the cathedral of:
“Crown Leopold, our true king! Down with Peter! Down with the
assassin!”
“Enough of this,” cried Peter. “Clear the cathedral!”
He drew his own sword, and with half a hundred loyal retainers at his
back pressed forward to clear the chancel. There was a brief fight,
from which Barney, much to his disgust, was barred by the mighty figure
of the old prince and the stalwart sword-arm of Butzow. He did get one
crack at Maenck, and had the satisfaction of seeing blood spurt from a
flesh wound across the fellow’s cheek.
“That for the Princess Emma,” he called to the governor of Blentz, and
then men crowded between them and he did not see the captain again
during the battle.
When Peter saw that more than half of the palace guard were shouting
for Leopold, and fighting side by side with the men of Tann, he
realized the futility of further armed resistance at this time. Slowly
he withdrew, and at last the fighting ceased and some semblance of
order was restored within the cathedral.
Fearfully, the bishop emerged from hiding, his robes disheveled and his
miter askew. Butzow grasped him none too reverently by the arm and
dragged him before Barney. The crown of Lutha dangled in the priest’s
palsied hands.
“Crown the king!” cried the lieutenant. “Crown Leopold, king of Lutha!”
A mad roar of acclaim greeted this demand, and again from all parts of
the cathedral rose the same wild cry. But in the lull that followed
there were some who demanded proof of the tattered young man who stood
before them and claimed that he was king.
“Let Prince Ludwig speak!” cried a dozen voices.
“Yes, Prince Ludwig! Prince Ludwig!” took up the throng.
Prince Ludwig von der Tann turned toward the bearded young man. Silence
fell upon the crowded cathedral. Peter of Blentz stood awaiting the
outcome, ready to demand the crown upon the first indication of
wavering belief in the man he knew was not Leopold.
“How may we know that you are really Leopold?” again asked Ludwig of
Barney.
The American raised his left hand, upon the third finger of which
gleamed the great ruby of the royal ring of the kings of Lutha. Even
Peter of Blentz started back in surprise as his eyes fell upon the
ring.
Where had the man come upon it?
Prince von der Tann dropped to one knee before Mr. Bernard Custer of
Beatrice, Nebraska, U.S.A., and lifted that gentleman’s hand to his
lips, and as the people of Lutha saw the act they went mad with joy.
Slowly Prince Ludwig rose and addressed the bishop. “Leopold, the
rightful heir to the throne of Lutha, is here. Let the coronation
proceed.”
The quiet of the sepulcher fell upon the assemblage as the holy man
raised the crown above the head of the king. Barney saw from the corner
of his eye the sea of faces upturned toward him. He saw the relief and
happiness upon the stern countenance of the old prince.
He hated to dash all their new found joy by the announcement that he
was not the king. He could not do that, for the moment he did Peter
would step forward and demand that his own coronation continue. How was
he to save the throne for Leopold?
Among the faces beneath him he suddenly descried that of a beautiful
young girl whose eyes, filled with the tears of a great happiness and a
greater love, were upturned to his. To reveal his true identity would
lose him this girl forever. None save Peter knew that he was not the
king. All save Peter would hail him gladly as Leopold of Lutha. How
easily he might win a throne and the woman he loved by a moment of
seeming passive compliance.
The temptation was great, and then he recalled the boy, lying dead for
his king in the desolate mountains, and the pathetic light in the eyes
of the sorrowful man at Tafelberg, and the great trust and confidence
in the heart of the woman who had shown that she loved him.
Slowly Barney Custer raised his palm toward the bishop in a gesture of
restraint.
“There are those who doubt that I am king,” he said. “In these
circumstances there should be no coronation in Lutha until all doubts
are allayed and all may unite in accepting without question the royal
right of the true Leopold to the crown of his father. Let the
coronation wait, then, until another day, and all will be well.”
“It must take place before noon of the fifth day of November, or not
until a year later,” said Prince Ludwig. “In the meantime the Prince
Regent must continue to rule. For the sake of Lutha the coronation must
take place today, your majesty.”
“What is the date?” asked Barney.
“The third, sire.”
“Let the coronation wait until the fifth.”
“But your majesty,” interposed Von der Tann, “all may be lost in two
days.”
“It is the king’s command,” said Barney quietly.
“But Peter of Blentz will rule for these two days, and in that time
with the army at his command there is no telling what he may
accomplish,” insisted the old man.
“Peter of Blentz shall not rule Lutha for two days, or two minutes,”
replied Barney. “We shall rule. Lieutenant Butzow, you may place Prince
Peter, Coblich, Maenck, and Stein under arrest. We charge them with
treason against their king, and conspiring to assassinate their
rightful monarch.”
Butzow smiled as he turned with his troopers at his back to execute
this most welcome of commissions; but in a moment he was again at
Barney’s side.
“They have fled, your majesty,” he said. “Shall I ride to Blentz after
them?”
“Let them go,” replied the American, and then, with his retinue about
him the new king of Lutha passed down the broad aisle of the cathedral
of Lustadt and took his way to the royal palace between ranks of
saluting soldiery backed by cheering thousands.
IX.
THE KING’S GUESTS
Once within the palace Barney sought the seclusion of a small room off
the audience chamber. Here he summoned Butzow.
“Lieutenant,” said the American, “for the sake of a woman, a dead child
and an unhappy king I have become dictator of Lutha for forty-eight
hours; but at noon upon the fifth this farce must cease. Then we must
place the true Leopold upon the throne, or a new dictator must replace
me.
“In vain I have tried to convince you that I am not the king, and today
in the cathedral so great was the temptation to take advantage of the
odd train of circumstances that had placed a crown within my reach that
I all but surrendered to it—not for the crown of gold, Butzow, but for
an infinitely more sacred diadem which belongs to him to whom by right
of birth and lineage, belongs the crown of Lutha. I do not ask you to
understand—it is not necessary—but this you must know and believe: that
I am not Leopold, and that the true Leopold lies in hiding in the
sanatorium at Tafelberg, from which you and I, Butzow, must fetch him
to Lustadt before noon on the fifth.”
“But, sire—” commenced Butzow, when Barney raised his hand.
“Enough of that, Butzow!” he cried almost irritably. “I am sick of
being ‘sired’ and ‘majestied’—my name is Custer. Call me that when
others are not present. Believe what you will, but ride with me in
secrecy to Tafelberg tonight, and together we shall bring back Leopold
of Lutha. Then we may call Prince Ludwig into our confidence, and none
need ever know of the substitution.
“I doubt if many had a sufficiently close view of me today to realize
the trick that I have played upon them, and if they note a difference
they will attribute it to the change in apparel, for we shall see to it
that the king is fittingly garbed before we exhibit him to his
subjects, while hereafter I shall continue in khaki, which becomes me
better than ermine.”
Butzow shook his head.
“King or dictator,” he said, “it is all the same, and I must obey
whatever commands you see fit to give, and so I will ride to Tafelberg
tonight, though what we shall find there I cannot imagine, unless there
are two Leopolds of Lutha. But shall we also find another royal ring
upon the finger of this other king?”
Barney smiled. “You’re a typical hard-headed Dutchman, Butzow,” he
said.
The lieutenant drew himself up haughtily. “I am not a Dutchman, your
majesty. I am a Luthanian.”
Barney laughed. “Whatever else you may be, Butzow, you’re a brick,” he
said, laying his hand upon the other’s arm.
Butzow looked at him narrowly.
“From your speech,” he said, “and the occasional Americanisms into
which you fall I might believe that you were other than the king but
for the ring.”
“It is my commission from the king,” replied Barney. “Leopold placed it
upon my finger in token of his royal authority to act in his behalf.
Tonight, then Butzow, you and I shall ride to Tafelberg. Have three
good horses. We must lead one for the king.”
Butzow saluted and left the apartment. For an hour or two the American
was busy with tailors whom he had ordered sent to the palace to measure
him for the numerous garments of a royal wardrobe, for he knew the king
to be near enough his own size that he might easily wear clothes that
had been fitted to Barney; and it was part of his plan to have
everything in readiness for the substitution which was to take place
the morning of the coronation.
Then there were foreign dignitaries, and the heads of numerous domestic
and civic delegations to be given audience. Old Von der Tann stood
close behind Barney prompting him upon the royal duties that had fallen
so suddenly upon his shoulders, and none thought it strange that he was
unfamiliar with the craft of kingship, for was it not common knowledge
that he had been kept a close prisoner in Blentz since boyhood, nor
been given any coaching for the duties Peter of Blentz never intended
he should perform?
After it was all over Prince Ludwig’s grim and leathery face relaxed
into a smile of satisfaction.
“None who witnessed the conduct of your first audience, sire,” he said,
“could for a moment doubt your royal lineage—if ever a man was born to
kingship, your majesty, it be you.”
Barney smiled, a bit ruefully, however, for in his mind’s eye he saw a
future moment when the proud old Prince von der Tann would know the
truth of the imposture that had been played upon him, and the young man
foresaw that he would have a rather unpleasant half-hour.
At a little distance from them Barney saw Emma von der Tann surrounded
by a group of officials and palace officers. Since he had come to
Lustadt that day he had had no word with her, and now he crossed toward
her, amused as the throng parted to form an aisle for him, the men
saluting and the women curtsying low.
He took both of the girl’s hands in his, and, drawing one through his
arm, took advantage of the prerogatives of kingship to lead her away
from the throng of courtiers.
“I thought that I should never be done with all the tiresome business
which seems to devolve upon kings,” he said, laughing. “All the while
that I should have been bending my royal intellect to matters of state,
I was wondering just how a king might find a way to see the woman he
loves without interruptions from the horde that dogs his footsteps.”
“You seem to have found a way, Leopold,” she whispered, pressing his
arm close to her. “Kings usually do.”
“It is not because I am a king that I found a way, Emma,” he replied.
“It is because I am an American.”
She looked up at him with an expression of pleading in her eyes.
“Why do you persist?” she cried. “You have come into your own, and
there is no longer aught to fear from Peter or any other. To me at
least, it is most unkind still to deny your identity.”
“I wonder,” said Barney, “if your love could withstand the knowledge
that I am not the king.”
“It is the MAN I love, Leopold,” the girl replied.
“You think so now,” he said, “but wait until the test comes, and when
it does, remember that I have always done my best to undeceive you. I
know that you are not for such as I, my princess, and when I have
returned your true king to you all that I shall ask is that you be
happy with him.”
“I shall always be happy with my king,” she whispered, and the look
that she gave him made Barney Custer curse the fate that had failed to
make him a king by birth.
An hour later darkness had fallen upon the little city of Lustadt, and
from a small gateway in the rear of the palace grounds two horsemen
rode out into the ill-paved street and turned their mounts’ heads
toward the north. At the side of one trotted a led horse.
As they passed beneath the glare of an arc-light before a cafe at the
side of the public square, a diner sitting at a table upon the walk
spied the tall figure and the bearded face of him who rode a few feet
in advance of his companion. Leaping to his feet the man waved his
napkin above his head.
“Long live the king!” he cried. “God save Leopold of Lutha!”
And amid the din of cheering that followed, Barney Custer of Beatrice
and Lieutenant Butzow of the Royal Horse rode out into the night upon
the road to Tafelberg.
When Peter of Blentz had escaped from the cathedral he had hastily
mounted with a handful of his followers and hurried out of Lustadt
along the road toward his formidable fortress at Blentz. Half way upon
the journey he had met a dusty and travel-stained horseman hastening
toward the capital city that Peter and his lieutenants had just left.
At sight of the prince regent the fellow reined in and saluted.
“May I have a word in private with your highness?” he asked. “I have
news of the greatest importance for your ears alone.”
Peter drew to one side with the man.
“Well,” he asked, “and what news have you for Peter of Blentz?”
The man leaned from his horse close to Peter’s ear.
“The king is in Tafelberg, your highness,” he said.
“The king is dead,” snapped Peter. “There is an impostor in the palace
at Lustadt. But the real Leopold of Lutha was slain by Yellow Franz’s
band of brigands weeks ago.”
“I heard the man at Tafelberg tell another that he was the king,”
insisted the fellow. “Through the keyhole of his room I saw him take a
great ring from his finger—a ring with a mighty ruby set in its
center—and give it to the other. Both were bearded men with gray
eyes—either might have passed for the king by the description upon the
placards that have covered Lutha for the past month. At first he denied
his identity, but when the other had convinced him that he sought only
the king’s welfare he at last admitted that he was Leopold.”
“Where is he now?” cried Peter.
“He is still in the sanatorium at Tafelberg. In room twenty-seven. The
other promised to return for him and take him to Lustadt, but when I
left Tafelberg he had not yet done so, and if you hasten you may reach
there before they take him away, and if there be any reward for my
loyalty to you, prince, my name is Ferrath.”
“Ride with us and if you have told the truth, fellow, there shall be a
reward and if not—then there shall be deserts,” and Peter of Blentz
wheeled his horse and with his company galloped on toward Tafelberg.
As he rode he talked with his lieutenants Coblich, Maenck, and Stein,
and among them it was decided that it would be best that Peter stop at
Blentz for the night while the others rode on to Tafelberg.
“Do not bring Leopold to Blentz,” directed Peter, “for if it be he who
lies at Tafelberg and they find him gone it will be toward Blentz that
they will first look. Take him—”
The Regent leaned from his saddle so that his mouth was close to the
ear of Coblich, that none of the troopers might hear.
Coblich nodded his head.
“And, Coblich, the fewer that ride to Tafelberg tonight the surer the
success of the mission. Take Maenck, Stein and one other with you. I
shall keep this man with me, for it may prove but a plot to lure me to
Tafelberg.”
Peter scowled at the now frightened hospital attendant.
“Tomorrow I shall be riding through the lowlands, Coblich, and so you
may not find means to communicate with me, but before noon of the fifth
have word at your town house in Lustadt for me of the success of your
venture.”
They had reached the point now where the road to Tafelberg branches
from that to Blentz, and the four who were to fetch the king wheeled
their horses into the left-hand fork and cantered off upon their
mission.
The direct road between Lustadt and Tafelberg is but little more than
half the distance of that which Coblich and his companions had to
traverse because of the wide detour they had made by riding almost to
Blentz first, and so it was that when they cantered into the little
mountain town near midnight Barney Custer and Lieutenant Butzow were
but a mile or two behind them.
Had the latter had even the faintest of suspicions that the identity of
the hiding place of the king might come to the knowledge of Peter of
Blentz they could have reached Tafelberg ahead of Coblich and his
party, but all unsuspecting they rode slowly to conserve the energy of
their mounts for the return trip.
In silence the two men approached the grounds surrounding the
sanatorium. In the soft dirt of the road the hoofs of their mounts made
no sound, and the shadows of the trees that border the front of the
enclosure hid them from the view of the trooper who held four riderless
horses in a little patch of moonlight that broke through the opening in
the trees at the main gate of the institution.
Barney was the first to see the animals and the man.
“S-s-st,” he hissed, reining in his horse.
Butzow drew alongside the American.
“What can it mean?” asked Barney. “That fellow is a trooper, but I
cannot make out his uniform.”
“Wait here,” said Butzow, and slipping from his horse he crept closer
to the man, hugging the dense shadows close to the trees.
Barney reined in nearer the low wall. From his saddle he could see the
grounds beyond through the branches of a tree. As he looked his
attention was suddenly riveted upon a sight that sent his heart into
his throat.
Three men were dragging a struggling, half-naked figure down the gravel
walk from the sanatorium toward the gate. One kept a hand clapped
across the mouth of the prisoner, who struck and fought his assailants
with all the frenzy of despair.
Barney leaped from his saddle and ran headlong after Butzow. The
lieutenant had reached the gate but an instant ahead of him when the
trooper, turning suddenly at some slight sound of the officer’s foot
upon the ground, detected the man creeping upon him. In an instant the
fellow had whipped out a revolver, and raising it fired point-blank at
Butzow’s chest; but in the same instant a figure shot out of the
shadows beside him, and with the report of the revolver a heavy fist
caught the trooper on the side of the chin, crumpling him to the ground
as if he were dead.
The blow had been in time to deflect the muzzle of the firearm, and the
bullet whistled harmlessly past the lieutenant.
“Your majesty!” exclaimed Butzow excitedly. “Go back. He might have
killed you.”
Barney leaped to the other’s side and grasping him by the shoulders
wheeled him about so that he faced the gate.
“There, Butzow,” he cried, “there is your king, and from the looks of
it he never needed a loyal subject more than he does this moment.
Come!” Without waiting to see if the other followed him, Barney Custer
leaped through the gate full in the faces of the astonished trio that
was dragging Leopold of Lutha from his sanctuary.
At sight of the American the king gave a muffled cry of relief, and
then Barney was upon those who held him. A stinging uppercut lifted
Coblich clear of the ground to drop him, dazed and bewildered, at the
foot of the monarch he had outraged. Maenck drew a revolver only to
have it struck from his hand by the sword of Butzow, who had followed
closely upon the American’s heels.
Barney, seizing the king by the arm, started on a run for the gateway.
In his wake came Butzow with a drawn sword beating back Stein, who was
armed with a cavalry saber, and Maenck who had now drawn his own sword.
The American saw that the two were pressing Butzow much too closely for
safety and that Coblich had now recovered from the effects of the blow
and was in pursuit, drawing his saber as he ran. Barney thrust the king
behind him and turned to face the enemy, at Butzow’s side.
The three men rushed upon the two who stood between them and their
prey. The moonlight was now full in the faces of Butzow and the
American. For the first time Maenck and the others saw who it was that
had interrupted them.
“The impostor!” cried the governor of Blentz. “The false king!”
Imbued with temporary courage by the knowledge that his side had the
advantage of superior numbers he launched himself full upon the
American. To his surprise he met a sword-arm that none might have
expected in an American, for Barney Custer had been a pupil of the
redoubtable Colonel Monstery, who was, as Barney was wont to say, “one
of the thanwhomest of fencing masters.”
Quickly Maenck fell back to give place to Stein, but not before the
American’s point had found him twice to leave him streaming blood from
two deep flesh wounds.
Neither of those who fought in the service of the king saw the
trembling, weak-kneed figure, which had stood behind them, turn and
scurry through the gateway, leaving the men who battled for him to
their fate.
The trooper whom Barney had felled had regained consciousness and as he
came to his feet rubbing his swollen jaw he saw a disheveled,
half-dressed figure running toward him from the sanatorium grounds. The
fellow was no fool, and knowing the purpose of the expedition as he did
he was quick to jump to the conclusion that this fleeing
personification of abject terror was Leopold of Lutha; and so it was
that as the king emerged from the gateway in search of freedom he ran
straight into the widespread arms of the trooper.
Maenck and Coblich had seen the king’s break for liberty, and the
latter maneuvered to get himself between Butzow and the open gate that
he might follow after the fleeing monarch.
At the same instant Maenck, seeing that Stein was being worsted by the
American, rushed in upon the latter, and thus relieved, the rat-faced
doctor was enabled to swing a heavy cut at Barney which struck him a
glancing blow upon the head, sending him stunned and bleeding to the
sward.
Coblich and the governor of Blentz hastened toward the gate, pausing
for an instant to overwhelm Butzow. In the fierce scrimmage that
followed the lieutenant was overthrown, though not before his sword had
passed through the heart of the rat-faced one. Deserting their fallen
comrade the two dashed through the gate, where to their immense relief
they found Leopold safe in the hands of the trooper.
An instant later the precious trio, with Leopold upon the horse of the
late Dr. Stein, were galloping swiftly into the darkness of the wood
that lies at the outskirts of Tafelberg.
When Barney regained consciousness he found himself upon a cot within
the sanatorium. Close beside him lay Butzow, and above them stood an
interne and several nurses. No sooner had the American regained his
scattered wits than he leaped to the floor. The interne and the nurses
tried to force him back upon the cot, thinking that he was in the
throes of a delirium, and it required his best efforts to convince them
that he was quite rational.
During the melee Butzow regained consciousness; his wound being as
superficial as that of the American, the two men were soon donning
their clothing, and, half-dressed, rushing toward the outer gate.
The interne had told them that when he had reached the scene of the
conflict in company with the gardener he had found them and another
lying upon the sward.
Their companion, he said, was quite dead.
“That must have been Stein,” said Butzow. “And the others had escaped
with the king!”
“The king?” cried the interne.
“Yes, the king, man—Leopold of Lutha. Did you not know that he who has
lain here for three weeks was the king?” replied Butzow.
The interne accompanied them to the gate and beyond, but everywhere was
silence. The king was gone.
X.
ON THE BATTLEFIELD
All that night and the following day Barney Custer and his aide rode in
search of the missing king.
They came to Blentz, and there Butzow rode boldly into the great court,
admitted by virtue of the fact that the guard upon the gate knew him
only as an officer of the royal guard whom they believed still loyal to
Peter of Blentz.
The lieutenant learned that the king was not there, nor had he been
since his escape. He also learned that Peter was abroad in the lowland
recruiting followers to aid him forcibly to regain the crown of Lutha.
The lieutenant did not wait to hear more, but, hurrying from the
castle, rode to Barney where the latter had remained in hiding in the
wood below the moat—the same wood through which he had stumbled a few
weeks previously after his escape from the stagnant waters of the moat.
“The king is not here,” said Butzow to him, as soon as the former
reached his side. “Peter is recruiting an army to aid him in seizing
the palace at Lustadt, and king or no king, we must ride for the
capital in time to check that move. Thank God,” he added, “that we
shall have a king to place upon the throne of Lutha at noon tomorrow in
spite of all that Peter can do.”
“What do you mean?” asked Barney. “Have you any clue to the whereabouts
of Leopold?”
“I saw the man at Tafelberg whom you say is king,” replied Butzow. “I
saw him tremble and whimper in the face of danger. I saw him run when
he might have seized something, even a stone, and fought at the sides
of the men who were come to rescue him. And I saw you there also.
“The truth and the falsity of this whole strange business is beyond me,
but this I know: if you are not the king today I pray God that the
other may not find his way to Lustadt before noon tomorrow, for by then
a brave man will sit upon the throne of Lutha, your majesty.”
Barney laid his hand upon the shoulder of the other.
“It cannot be, my friend,” he said. “There is more than a throne at
stake for me, but to win them both I could not do the thing you
suggest. If Leopold of Lutha lives he must be crowned tomorrow.”
“And if he does not live?” asked Butzow.
Barney Custer shrugged his shoulders.
It was dusk when the two entered the palace grounds in Lustadt. The
sight of Barney threw the servants and functionaries of the royal
household into wild excitement and confusion. Men ran hither and
thither bearing the glad tidings that the king had returned.
Old von der Tann was announced within ten minutes after Barney reached
his apartments. He urged upon the American the necessity for greater
caution in the future.
“Your majesty’s life is never safe while Peter of Blentz is abroad in
Lutha,” cried he.
“It was to save your king from Peter that we rode from Lustadt last
night,” replied Barney, but the old prince did not catch the double
meaning of the words.
While they talked a young officer of cavalry begged an audience. He had
important news for the king, he said. From him Barney learned that
Peter of Blentz had succeeded in recruiting a fair-sized army in the
lowlands. Two regiments of government infantry and a squadron of
cavalry had united forces with him, for there were those who still
accepted him as regent, believing his contention that the true king was
dead, and that he whose coronation was to be attempted was but the
puppet of old Von der Tann.
The morning of November 5 broke clear and cold. The old town of Lustadt
was awakened with a start at daybreak by the booming of cannon. Mounted
messengers galloped hither and thither through the steep, winding
streets. Troops, foot and horse, moved at the double from the barracks
along the King’s Road to the fortifications which guard the entrance to
the city at the foot of Margaretha Street.
Upon the heights above the town Barney Custer and the old Prince von
der Tann stood surrounded by officers and aides watching the advance of
a skirmish line up the slopes toward Lustadt. Behind, the thin line
columns of troops were marching under cover of two batteries of field
artillery that Peter of Blentz had placed upon a wooden knoll to the
southeast of the city.
The guns upon the single fort that, overlooking the broad valley,
guarded the entire southern exposure of the city were answering the
fire of Prince Peter’s artillery, while several machine guns had been
placed to sweep the slope up which the skirmish line was advancing.
The trees that masked the enemy’s pieces extended upward along the
ridge and the eastern edge of the city. Barney saw that a force of men
might easily reach a commanding position from that direction and enter
Lustadt almost in rear of the fortifications. Below him a squadron of
the Royal Horse were just emerging from their stables, taking their way
toward the plain to join in a concerted movement against the troops
that were advancing toward the fort.
He turned to an aide de camp standing just behind him.
“Intercept that squadron and direct the major to move due east along
the King’s Road to the grove,” he commanded. “We will join him there.”
And as the officer spurred down the steep and narrow street the
American, followed by Von der Tann and his staff, wheeled and galloped
eastward.
Ten minutes later the party entered the wood at the edge of town, where
the squadron soon joined them. Von der Tann was mystified at the
purpose of this change in the position of the general staff, since from
the wood they could see nothing of the battle waging upon the slope.
During his brief intercourse with the man he thought king he had quite
forgotten that there had been any question as to the young man’s
sanity, for he had given no indication of possessing aught but a
well-balanced mind. Now, however, he commenced to have misgivings, if
not of his sanity, then as to his judgment at least.
“I fear, your majesty,” he ventured, “that we are putting ourselves too
much out of touch with the main body of the army. We can neither see
nor accomplish anything from this position.”
“We were too far away to accomplish much upon the top of that
mountain,” replied Barney, “but we’re going to commence doing things
now. You will please to ride back along the King’s Road and take direct
command of the troops mobilized near the fort.
“Direct the artillery to redouble their fire upon the enemy’s battery
for five minutes, and then to cease firing into the wood entirely. At
the same instant you may order a cautious advance against the troops
advancing up the slope.
“When you see us emerge upon the west side of the grove where the
enemy’s guns are now, you may order a charge, and we will take them
simultaneously upon their right flank with a cavalry charge.”
“But, your majesty,” exclaimed Von der Tann dubiously, “where will you
be in the mean time?”
“We shall be with the major’s squadron, and when you see us emerging
from the grove, you will know that we have taken Peter’s guns and that
everything is over except the shouting.”
“You are not going to accompany the charge!” cried the old prince.
“We are going to lead it,” and the pseudo-king of Lutha wheeled his
mount as though to indicate that the time for talking was past.
With a signal to the major commanding the squadron of Royal Horse, he
moved eastward into the wood. Prince Ludwig hesitated a moment as
though to question further the wisdom of the move, but finally with a
shake of his head he trotted off in the direction of the fort.
Five minutes later the enemy were delighted to note that the fire upon
their concealed battery had suddenly ceased.
Then Peter saw a force of foot-soldiers deploy from the city and
advance slowly in line of skirmishers down the slope to meet his own
firing line.
Immediately he did what Barney had expected that he would—turned the
fire of his artillery toward the southwest, directly away from the
point from which the American and the crack squadron were advancing.
So it came that the cavalrymen crept through the woods upon the rear of
the guns, unseen; the noise of their advance was drowned by the
detonation of the cannon.
The first that the artillerymen knew of the enemy in their rear was a
shout of warning from one of the powder-men at a caisson, who had
caught a glimpse of the grim line advancing through the trees at his
rear.
Instantly an effort was made to wheel several of the pieces about and
train them upon the advancing horsemen; but even had there been time, a
shout that rose from several of Peter’s artillerymen as the Royal Horse
broke into full view would doubtless have prevented the maneuver, for
at sight of the tall, bearded, young man who galloped in front of the
now charging cavalrymen there rose a shout of “The king! The king!”
With the force of an avalanche the Royal Horse rode through those two
batteries of field artillery; and in the thick of the fight that
followed rode the American, a smile upon his face, for in his ears rang
the wild shouts of his troopers: “For the king! For the king!”
In the moment that the enemy made their first determined stand a bullet
brought down the great bay upon which Barney rode. A dozen of Peter’s
men rushed forward to seize the man stumbling to his feet. As many more
of the Royal Horse closed around him, and there, for five minutes, was
waged as fierce a battle for possession of a king as was ever fought.
But already many of the artillerymen had deserted the guns that had not
yet been attacked, for the magic name of king had turned their blood to
water. Fifty or more raised a white flag and surrendered without
striking a blow, and when, at last, Barney and his little bodyguard
fought their way through those who surrounded them they found the
balance of the field already won.
Upon the slope below the city the loyal troops were advancing upon the
enemy. Old Prince Ludwig paced back and forth behind them, apparently
oblivious to the rain of bullets about him. Every moment he turned his
eyes toward the wooded ridge from which there now belched an almost
continuous fusillade of shells upon the advancing royalists.
Quite suddenly the cannonading ceased and the old man halted in his
tracks, his gaze riveted upon the wood. For several minutes he saw no
sign of what was transpiring behind that screen of sere and yellow
autumn leaves, and then a man came running out, and after him another
and another.
The prince raised his field glasses to his eyes. He almost cried aloud
in his relief—the uniforms of the fugitives were those of artillerymen,
and only cavalry had accompanied the king. A moment later there
appeared in the center of his lenses a tall figure with a full beard.
He rode, swinging his saber above his head, and behind him at full
gallop came a squadron of the Royal Horse.
Old von der Tann could restrain himself no longer.
“The king! The king!” he cried to those about him, pointing in the
direction of the wood.
The officers gathered there and the soldiery before him heard and took
up the cry, and then from the old man’s lips came the command,
“Charge!” and a thousand men tore down the slopes of Lustadt upon the
forces of Peter of Blentz, while from the east the king charged their
right flank at the head of the Royal Horse.
Peter of Blentz saw that the day was lost, for the troops upon the
right were crumpling before the false king while he and his cavalrymen
were yet a half mile distant. Before the retreat could become a rout
the prince regent ordered his forces to fall back slowly upon a suburb
that lies in the valley below the city.
Once safely there he raised a white flag, asking a conference with
Prince Ludwig.
“Your majesty,” said the old man, “what answer shall we send the
traitor who even now ignores the presence of his king?”
“Treat with him,” replied the American. “He may be honest enough in his
belief that I am an impostor.”
Von der Tann shrugged his shoulders, but did as Barney bid, and for
half an hour the young man waited with Butzow while Von der Tann and
Peter met halfway between the forces for their conference.
A dozen members of the most powerful of the older nobility accompanied
Ludwig. When they returned their faces were a picture of puzzled
bewilderment. With them were several officers, soldiers and civilians
from Peter’s contingency.
“What said he?” asked Barney.
“He said, your majesty,” replied Von der Tann, “that he is confident
you are not the king, and that these men he has sent with me knew the
king well at Blentz. As proof that you are not the king he has offered
the evidence of your own denials—made not only to his officers and
soldiers, but to the man who is now your loyal lieutenant, Butzow, and
to the Princess Emma von der Tann, my daughter.
“He insists that he is fighting for the welfare of Lutha, while we are
traitors, attempting to seat an impostor upon the throne of the dead
Leopold. I will admit that we are at a loss, your majesty, to know
where lies the truth and where the falsity in this matter.
“We seek only to serve our country and our king but there are those
among us who, to be entirely frank, are not yet convinced that you are
Leopold. The result of the conference may not, then, meet with the
hearty approval of your majesty.”
“What was the result?” asked Barney.
“It was decided that all hostilities cease, and that Prince Peter be
given an opportunity to establish the validity of his claim that your
majesty is an impostor. If he is able to do so to the entire
satisfaction of a majority of the old nobility, we have agreed to
support him in a return to his regency.”
For a moment there was deep silence. Many of the nobles stood with
averted faces and eyes upon the ground.
The American, a half-smile upon his face, turned toward the men of
Peter who had come to denounce him. He knew what their verdict would
be. He knew that if he were to save the throne for Leopold he must hold
it at any cost until Leopold should be found.
Troopers were scouring the country about Lustadt as far as Blentz in
search of Maenck and Coblich. Could they locate these two and arrest
them “with all found in their company,” as his order read, he felt sure
that he would be able to deliver the missing king to his subjects in
time for the coronation at noon.
Barney looked straight into the eyes of old Von der Tann.
“You have given us the opinion of others, Prince Ludwig,” he said. “Now
you may tell us your own views of the matter.”
“I shall have to abide by the decision of the majority,” replied the
old man. “But I have seen your majesty under fire, and if you are not
the king, for Lutha’s sake you ought to be.”
“He is not Leopold,” said one of the officers who had accompanied the
prince from Peter’s camp. “I was governor of Blentz for three years and
as familiar with the king’s face as with that of my own brother.”
“No,” cried several of the others, “this man is not the king.”
Several of the nobles drew away from Barney. Others looked at him
questioningly.
Butzow stepped close to his side, and it was noticeable that the
troopers, and even the officers, of the Royal Horse which Barney had
led in the charge upon the two batteries in the wood, pressed a little
closer to the American. This fact did not escape Butzow’s notice.
“If you are content to take the word of the servants of a traitor and a
would-be regicide,” he cried, “I am not. There has been no proof
advanced that this man is not the king. In so far as I am concerned he
is the king, nor ever do I expect to serve another more worthy of the
title.
“If Peter of Blentz has real proof—not the testimony of his own
faction—that Leopold of Lutha is dead, let him bring it forward before
noon today, for at noon we shall crown a king in the cathedral at
Lustadt, and I for one pray to God that it may be he who has led us in
battle today.”
A shout of applause rose from the Royal Horse, and from the
foot-soldiers who had seen the king charge across the plain, scattering
the enemy before him.
Barney, appreciating the advantage in the sudden turn affairs had taken
following Butzow’s words, swung to his saddle.
“Until Peter of Blentz brings to Lustadt one with a better claim to the
throne,” he said, “we shall continue to rule Lutha, nor shall other
than Leopold be crowned her king. We approve of the amnesty you have
granted, Prince Ludwig, and Peter of Blentz is free to enter Lustadt,
as he will, so long as he does not plot against the true king.
“Major,” he added, turning to the commander of the squadron at his
back, “we are returning to the palace. Your squadron will escort us,
remaining on guard there about the grounds. Prince Ludwig, you will see
that machine guns are placed about the palace and commanding the
approaches to the cathedral.”
With a nod to the cavalry major he wheeled his horse and trotted up the
slope toward Lustadt.
With a grim smile Prince Ludwig von der Tann mounted his horse and rode
toward the fort. At his side were several of the nobles of Lutha. They
looked at him in astonishment.
“You are doing his bidding, although you do not know that he is the
true king?” asked one of them.
“Were he an impostor,” replied the old man, “he would have insisted by
word of mouth that he is king. But not once has he said that he is
Leopold. Instead, he has proved his kingship by his acts.”
XI.
A TIMELY INTERVENTION
Nine o’clock found Barney Custer pacing up and down his apartments in
the palace. No clue as to the whereabouts of Coblich, Maenck or the
king had been discovered. One by one his troopers had returned to
Butzow empty-handed, and as much at a loss as to the hiding-place of
their quarry as when they had set out upon their search.
Peter of Blentz and his retainers had entered the city and already had
commenced to gather at the cathedral.
Peter, at the residence of Coblich, had succeeded in gathering about
him many of the older nobility whom he pledged to support him in case
he could prove to them that the man who occupied the royal palace was
not Leopold of Lutha.
They agreed to support him in his regency if he produced proof that the
true Leopold was dead, and Peter of Blentz waited with growing anxiety
the coming of Coblich with word that he had the king in custody. Peter
was staking all on a single daring move which he had decided to make in
his game of intrigue.
As Barney paced within the palace, waiting for word that Leopold had
been found, Peter of Blentz was filled with equal apprehension as he,
too, waited for the same tidings. At last he heard the pound of hoofs
upon the pavement without and a moment later Coblich, his clothing
streaked with dirt, blood caked upon his face from a wound across the
forehead, rushed into the presence of the prince regent.
Peter drew him hurriedly into a small study on the first floor.
“Well?” he whispered, as the two faced each other.
“We have him,” replied Coblich. “But we had the devil’s own time
getting him. Stein was killed and Maenck and I both wounded, and all
morning we have spent the time hiding from troopers who seemed to be
searching for us. Only fifteen minutes since did we reach the
hiding-place that you instructed us to use. But we have him, your
highness, and he is in such a state of cowardly terror that he is ready
to agree to anything, if you will but spare his life and set him free
across the border.”
“It is too late for that now, Coblich,” replied Peter. “There is but
one way that Leopold of Lutha can serve me now, and that is—dead. Were
his corpse to be carried into the cathedral of Lustadt before noon
today, and were those who fetched it to swear that the king was killed
by the impostor after being dragged from the hospital at Tafelberg
where you and Maenck had located him, and from which you were
attempting to rescue him, I believe that the people would tear our
enemies to pieces. What say you, Coblich?”
The other stared at Peter of Blentz for several seconds while the
atrocity of his chief’s plan filtered through his brain.
“My God!” he exclaimed at last. “You mean that you wish me to murder
Leopold with my own hands?”
“You put it too crudely, my dear Coblich,” replied the other.
“I cannot do it,” muttered Coblich. “I have never killed a man in my
life. I am getting old. No, I could never do it. I should not sleep
nights.”
“If it is not done, Coblich, and Leopold comes into his own,” said
Peter slowly, “you will be caught and hanged higher than Haman. And if
you do not do it, and the impostor is crowned today, then you will be
either hanged officially or knifed unofficially, and without any choice
in the matter whatsoever. Nothing, Coblich, but the dead body of the
true Leopold can save your neck. You have your choice, therefore, of
letting him live to prove your treason, or letting him die and becoming
chancellor of Lutha.”
Slowly Coblich turned toward the door. “You are right,” he said, “but
may God have mercy on my soul. I never thought that I should have to do
it with my own hands.”
So saying he left the room and a moment later Peter of Blentz smiled as
he heard the pounding of a horse’s hoofs upon the pavement without.
Then the Regent entered the room he had recently quitted and spoke to
the nobles of Lutha who were gathered there.
“Coblich has found the body of the murdered king,” he said. “I have
directed him to bring it to the cathedral. He came upon the impostor
and his confederate, Lieutenant Butzow, as they were bearing the corpse
from the hospital at Tafelberg where the king has lain unknown since
the rumor was spread by Von der Tann that he had been killed by
bandits.
“He was not killed until last evening, my lords, and you shall see
today the fresh wounds upon him. When the time comes that we can
present this grisly evidence of the guilt of the impostor and those who
uphold him, I shall expect you all to stand at my side, as you have
promised.”
With one accord the noblemen pledged anew their allegiance to Peter of
Blentz if he could produce one-quarter of the evidence he claimed to
possess.
“All that we wish to know positively is,” said one, “that the man who
bears the title of king today is really Leopold of Lutha, or that he is
not. If not then he stands convicted of treason, and we shall know how
to conduct ourselves.”
Together the party rode to the cathedral, the majority of the older
nobility now openly espousing the cause of the Regent.
At the palace Barney was about distracted. Butzow was urging him to
take the crown whether he was Leopold or not, for the young lieutenant
saw no hope for Lutha, if either the scoundrelly Regent or the cowardly
man whom Barney had assured him was the true king should come into
power.
It was eleven o’clock. In another hour Barney knew that he must have
found some new solution of his dilemma, for there seemed little
probability that the king would be located in the brief interval that
remained before the coronation. He wondered what they did to people who
stole thrones. For a time he figured his chances of reaching the border
ahead of the enraged populace. All had depended upon the finding of the
king, and he had been so sure that it could be accomplished in time,
for Coblich and Maenck had had but a few hours in which to conceal the
monarch before the search was well under way.
Armed with the king’s warrants, his troopers had ridden through the
country, searching houses, and questioning all whom they met. Patrols
had guarded every road that the fugitives might take either to Lustadt,
Blentz, or the border; but no king had been found and no trace of his
abductors.
Prince von der Tann, Barney was convinced, was on the point of
deserting him, and going over to the other side. It was true that the
old man had carried out his instructions relative to the placing of the
machine guns; but they might be used as well against him, where they
stood, as for him.
From his window he could see the broad avenue which passes before the
royal palace of Lutha. It was crowded with throngs moving toward the
cathedral. Presently there came a knock upon the closed door of his
chamber.
At his “Enter” a functionary announced: “His Royal Highness Ludwig,
Prince von der Tann!”
The old man was much perturbed at the rumors he had heard relative to
the assassination of the true Leopold. Soldier-like, he blurted out his
suspicions and his ultimatum.
“None but the royal blood of Rubinroth may reign in Lutha while there
be a Rubinroth left to reign and old Von der Tann lives,” he cried in
conclusion.
At the name “Rubinroth” Barney started. It was his mother’s name.
Suddenly the truth flashed upon him. He understood now the reticence of
both his father and mother relative to her early life.
“Prince Ludwig,” said the young man earnestly, “I have only the good of
Lutha in my heart. For three weeks I have labored and risked death a
hundred times to place the legitimate heir to the crown of Lutha upon
his throne. I—”
He hesitated, not knowing just how to commence the confession he was
determined to make, though he was positive that it would place Peter of
Blentz upon the throne, since the old prince had promised to support
the Regent could it be proved that Barney was an impostor.
“I,” he started again, and then there came an interruption at the door.
“A messenger, your majesty,” announced the doorman, “who says that he
must have audience at once upon a matter of life and death to the
king.”
“We will see him in the ante-chamber,” replied Barney, moving toward
the door. “Await us here, Prince Ludwig.”
A moment later he re-entered the apartment. There was an expression of
renewed hope upon his face.
“As we were about to remark, my dear prince,” he said, “I swear that
the royal blood of the Rubinroths flows in my veins, and as God is my
judge, none other than the true Leopold of Lutha shall be crowned
today. And now we must prepare for the coronation. If there be trouble
in the cathedral, Prince Ludwig, we look to your sword in protection of
the king.”
“When I am with you, sire,” said Von der Tann, “I know that you are
king. When I saw how you led the troops in battle, I prayed that there
could be no mistake. God give that I am right. But God help you if you
are playing with old Ludwig von der Tann.”
When the old man had left the apartment Barney summoned an aide and
sent for Butzow. Then he hurried to the bath that adjoined the
apartment, and when the lieutenant of horse was announced Barney called
through a soapy lather for his confederate to enter.
“What are you doing, sire?” cried Butzow in amazement.
“Cut out the ‘sire,’ old man,” shouted Barney Custer of Beatrice. “this
is the fifth of November and I am shaving off this alfalfa. The king is
found!”
“What?” cried Butzow, and upon his face there was little to indicate
the rejoicing that a loyal subject of Leopold of Lutha should have felt
at that announcement.
“There is a man in the next room,” went on Barney, “who can lead us to
the spot where Coblich and Maenck guard the king. Get him in here.”
Butzow hastened to comply with the American’s instructions, and a
moment later returned to the apartment with the old shopkeeper of
Tafelberg.
As Barney shaved he issued directions to the two. Within the room to
the east, he said, there were the king’s coronation robes, and in a
smaller dressingroom beyond they would find a long gray cloak.
They were to wrap all these in a bundle which the old shopkeeper was to
carry.
“And, Butzow,” added Barney, “look to my revolvers and your own, and
lay my sword out as well. The chances are that we shall have to use
them before we are ten minutes older.”
In an incredibly short space of time the young man emerged from the
bath, his luxuriant beard gone forever, he hoped. Butzow looked at him
with a smile.
“I must say that the beard did not add greatly to your majesty’s good
looks,” he said.
“Never mind the bouquets, old man,” cried Barney, cramming his arms
into the sleeves of his khaki jacket and buckling sword and revolver
about him, as he hurried toward a small door that opened upon the
opposite side of the apartment to that through which his visitors had
been conducted.
Together the three hastened through a narrow, little-used corridor and
down a flight of well-worn stone steps to a door that let upon the rear
court of the palace.
There were grooms and servants there, and soldiers too, who saluted
Butzow, according the old shopkeeper and the smooth-faced young
stranger only cursory glances. It was evident that without his beard it
was not likely that Barney would be again mistaken for the king.
At the stables Butzow requisitioned three horses, and soon the trio was
galloping through a little-frequented street toward the northern, hilly
environs of Lustadt. They rode in silence until they came to an old
stone building, whose boarded windows and general appearance of
dilapidation proclaimed its long tenantless condition. Rank weeds, now
rustling dry and yellow in the November wind, choked what once might
have been a luxuriant garden. A stone wall, which had at one time
entirely surrounded the grounds, had been almost completely removed
from the front to serve as foundation stone for a smaller edifice
farther down the mountainside.
The horsemen avoided this break in the wall, coming up instead upon the
rear side where their approach was wholly screened from the building by
the wall upon that exposure.
Close in they dismounted, and leaving the animals in charge of the
shopkeeper of Tafelberg, Barney and Butzow hastened toward a small
postern-gate which swung, groaning, upon a single rusted hinge. Each
felt that there was no time for caution or stratagem. Instead all
depended upon the very boldness and rashness of their attack, and so as
they came through into the courtyard the two dashed headlong for the
building.
Chance accomplished for them what no amount of careful execution might
have done, and they came within the ruin unnoticed by the four who
occupied the old, darkened library.
Possibly the fact that one of the men had himself just entered and was
excitedly talking to the others may have drowned the noisy approach of
the two. However that may be, it is a fact that Barney and the cavalry
officer came to the very door of the library unheard.
There they halted, listening. Coblich was speaking.
“The Regent commands it, Maenck,” he was saying. “It is the only thing
that can save our necks. He said that you had better be the one to do
it, since it was your carelessness that permitted the fellow to escape
from Blentz.”
Huddled in a far corner of the room was an abject figure trembling in
terror. At the words of Coblich it staggered to its feet. It was the
king.
“Have pity—have pity!” he cried. “Do not kill me, and I will go away
where none will ever know that I live. You can tell Peter that I am
dead. Tell him anything, only spare my life. Oh, why did I ever listen
to the cursed fool who tempted me to think of regaining the crown that
has brought me only misery and suffering—the crown that has now placed
the sentence of death upon me.”
“Why not let him go?” suggested the trooper, who up to this time had
not spoken. “If we don’t kill him, we can’t be hanged for his murder.”
“Don’t be too sure of that,” exclaimed Maenck. “If he goes away and
never returns, what proof can we offer that we did not kill him, should
we be charged with the crime? And if we let him go, and later he
returns and gains his throne, he will see that we are hanged anyway for
treason.
“The safest thing to do is to put him where he at least cannot come
back to threaten us, and having done so upon the orders of Peter, let
the king’s blood be upon Peter’s head. I, at least, shall obey my
master, and let you two bear witness that I did the thing with my own
hand.” So saying he drew his sword and crossed toward the king.
But Captain Ernst Maenck never reached his sovereign.
As the terrified shriek of the sorry monarch rang through the interior
of the desolate ruin another sound mingled with it, half-drowning the
piercing wail of terror.
It was the sharp crack of a revolver, and even as it spoke Maenck
lunged awkwardly forward, stumbled, and collapsed at Leopold’s feet.
With a moan the king shrank back from the grisly thing that touched his
boot, and then two men were in the center of the room, and things were
happening with a rapidity that was bewildering.
About all that he could afterward recall with any distinctness was the
terrified face of Coblich, as he rushed past him toward a door in the
opposite side of the room, and the horrid leer upon the face of the
dead trooper, who foolishly, had made a move to draw his revolver.
Within the cathedral at Lustadt excitement was at fever heat. It lacked
but two minutes of noon, and as yet no king had come to claim the
crown. Rumors were running riot through the close-packed audience.
One man had heard the king’s chamberlain report to Prince von der Tann
that the master of ceremonies had found the king’s apartments vacant
when he had gone to urge the monarch to hasten his preparations for the
coronation.
Another had seen Butzow and two strangers galloping north through the
city. A third told of a little old man who had come to the king with an
urgent message.
Peter of Blentz and Prince Ludwig were talking in whispers at the foot
of the chancel steps. Peter ascended the steps and facing the
assemblage raised a silencing hand.
“He who claimed to be Leopold of Lutha,” he said, “was but a mad
adventurer. He would have seized the throne of the Rubinroths had his
nerve not failed him at the last moment. He has fled. The true king is
dead. Now I, Prince Regent of Lutha, declare the throne vacant, and
announce myself king!”
There were a few scattered cheers and some hissing. A score of the
nobles rose as though to protest, but before any could take a step the
attention of all was directed toward the sorry figure of a white-faced
man who scurried up the broad center aisle.
It was Coblich.
He ran to Peter’s side, and though he attempted to speak in a whisper,
so out of breath, and so filled with hysterical terror was he that his
words came out in gasps that were audible to many of those who stood
near by.
“Maenck is dead,” he cried. “The impostor has stolen the king.”
Peter of Blentz went white as his lieutenant. Von der Tann heard and
demanded an explanation.
“You said that Leopold was dead,” he said accusingly.
Peter regained his self-control quickly.
“Coblich is excited,” he explained. “He means that the impostor has
stolen the body of the king that Coblich and Maenck had discovered and
were bringing to Lustadt.”
Von der Tann looked troubled.
He knew not what to make of the series of wild tales that had come to
his ears within the past hour. He had hoped that the young man whom he
had last seen in the king’s apartments was the true Leopold. He would
have been glad to have served such a one, but there had been many
inexplicable occurrences which tended to cast a doubt upon the man’s
claims—and yet, had he ever claimed to be the king? It suddenly
occurred to the old prince that he had not. On the contrary he had
repeatedly stated to Prince Ludwig’s daughter and to Lieutenant Butzow
that he was not Leopold.
It seemed that they had all been so anxious to believe him king that
they had forced the false position upon him, and now if he had indeed
committed the atrocity that Coblich charged against him, who could
wonder? With less provocation men had before attempted to seize thrones
by more dastardly means.
Peter of Blentz was speaking.
“Let the coronation proceed,” he cried, “that Lutha may have a true
king to frustrate the plans of the impostor and the traitors who had
supported him.”
He cast a meaning glance at Prince von der Tann.
There were many cries for Peter of Blentz. “Let’s have done with
treason, and place upon the throne of Lutha one whom we know to be both
a Luthanian and sane. Down with the mad king! Down with the impostor!”
Peter turned to ascend the chancel steps.
Von der Tann still hesitated. Below him upon one side of the aisle were
massed his own retainers. Opposite them were the men of the Regent, and
dividing the two the parallel ranks of Horse Guards stretched from the
chancel down the broad aisle to the great doors. These were strongly
for the impostor, if impostor he was, who had led them to victory over
the men of the Blentz faction.
Von der Tann knew that they would fight to the last ditch for their
hero should he come to claim the crown. Yet how would they fight—to
which side would they cleave, were he to attempt to frustrate the
design of the Regent to seize the throne of Lutha?
Already Peter of Blentz had approached the bishop, who, eager to
propitiate whoever seemed most likely to become king, gave the signal
for the procession that was to mark the solemn bearing of the crown of
Lutha up the aisle to the chancel.
Outside the cathedral there was the sudden blare of trumpets. The great
doors swung violently open, and the entire throng were upon their feet
in an instant as a trooper of the Royal Horse shouted: “The king! The
king! Make way for Leopold of Lutha!”
XII.
THE GRATITUDE OF A KING
At the cry silence fell upon the throng. Every head was turned toward
the great doors through which the head of a procession was just
visible. It was a grim looking procession—the head of it, at least.
There were four khaki-clad trumpeters from the Royal Horse Guards, the
gay and resplendent uniforms which they should have donned today
conspicuous for their absence. From their brazen bugles sounded another
loud fanfare, and then they separated, two upon each side of the aisle,
and between them marched three men.
One was tall, with gray eyes and had a reddish-brown beard. He was
fully clothed in the coronation robes of Leopold. Upon his either hand
walked the others—Lieutenant Butzow and a gray-eyed, smooth-faced,
square-jawed stranger.
Behind them marched the balance of the Royal Horse Guards that were not
already on duty within the cathedral. As the eyes of the multitude fell
upon the man in the coronation robes there were cries of: “The king!
Impostor!” and “Von der Tann’s puppet!”
“Denounce him!” whispered one of Peter’s henchmen in his master’s ear.
The Regent moved closer to the aisle, that he might meet the impostor
at the foot of the chancel steps. The procession was moving steadily up
the aisle.
Among the clan of Von der Tann a young girl with wide eyes was bending
forward that she might have a better look at the face of the king. As
he came opposite her her eyes filled with horror, and then she saw the
eyes of the smooth-faced stranger at the king’s side. They were brave,
laughing eyes, and as they looked straight into her own the truth
flashed upon her, and the girl gave a gasp of dismay as she realized
that the king of Lutha and the king of her heart were not one and the
same.
At last the head of the procession was almost at the foot of the
chancel steps. There were murmurs of: “It is not the king,” and “Who is
this new impostor?”
Leopold’s eyes were searching the faces of the close-packed nobility
about the chancel. At last they fell upon the face of Peter. The young
man halted not two paces from the Regent. The man went white as the
king’s eyes bored straight into his miserable soul.
“Peter of Blentz,” cried the young man, “as God is your judge, tell the
truth today. Who am I?”
The legs of the Prince Regent trembled. He sank upon his knees, raising
his hands in supplication toward the other. “Have pity on me, your
majesty, have pity!” he cried.
“Who am I, man?” insisted the king.
“You are Leopold Rubinroth, sire, by the grace of God, king of Lutha,”
cried the frightened man. “Have mercy on an old man, your majesty.”
“Wait! Am I mad? Was I ever mad?”
“As God is my judge, sire, no!” replied Peter of Blentz.
Leopold turned to Butzow.
“Remove the traitor from our presence,” he commanded, and at a word
from the lieutenant a dozen guardsmen seized the trembling man and
hustled him from the cathedral amid hisses and execrations.
Following the coronation the king was closeted in his private audience
chamber in the palace with Prince Ludwig.
“I cannot understand what has happened, even now, your majesty,” the
old man was saying. “That you are the true Leopold is all that I am
positive of, for the discomfiture of Prince Peter evidenced that fact
all too plainly. But who the impostor was who ruled Lutha in your name
for two days, disappearing as miraculously as he came, I cannot guess.
“But for another miracle which preserved you for us in the nick of time
he might now be wearing the crown of Lutha in your stead. Having Peter
of Blentz safely in custody our next immediate task should be to hunt
down the impostor and bring him to justice also; though”—and the old
prince sighed—“he was indeed a brave man, and a noble figure of a king
as he led your troops to battle.”
The king had been smiling as Von der Tann first spoke of the
“impostor,” but at the old man’s praise of the other’s bravery a slight
flush tinged his cheek, and the shadow of a scowl crossed his brow.
“Wait,” he said, “we shall not have to look far for your ‘impostor,’”
and summoning an aide he dispatched him for “Lieutenant Butzow and Mr.
Custer.”
A moment later the two entered the audience chamber. Barney found that
Leopold the king, surrounded by comforts and safety, was a very
different person from Leopold the fugitive. The weak face now wore an
expression of arrogance, though the king spoke most graciously to the
American.
“Here, Von der Tann,” said Leopold, “is your ‘impostor.’ But for him I
should doubtless be dead by now, or once again a prisoner at Blentz.”
Barney and Butzow found it necessary to repeat their stories several
times before the old man could fully grasp all that had transpired
beneath his very nose without his being aware of scarce a single detail
of it.
When he was finally convinced that they were telling the truth, he
extended his hand to the American.
“I knelt to you once, young man,” he said, “and kissed your hand. I
should be filled with bitterness and rage toward you. On the contrary,
I find that I am proud to have served in the retinue of such an
impostor as you, for you upheld the prestige of the house of Rubinroth
upon the battlefield, and though you might have had a crown, you
refused it and brought the true king into his own.”
Leopold sat tapping his foot upon the carpet. It was all very well if
he, the king, chose to praise the American, but there was no need for
old von der Tann to slop over so. The king did not like it. As a matter
of fact, he found himself becoming very jealous of the man who had
placed him upon his throne.
“There is only one thing that I can harbor against you,” continued
Prince Ludwig, “and that is that in a single instance you deceived me,
for an hour before the coronation you told me that you were a
Rubinroth.”
“I told you, prince,” corrected Barney, “that the royal blood of
Rubinroth flowed in my veins, and so it does. I am the son of the
runaway Princess Victoria of Lutha.”
Both Leopold and Ludwig looked their surprise, and to the king’s eyes
came a sudden look of fear. With the royal blood in his veins, what was
there to prevent this popular hero from some day striving for the
throne he had once refused? Leopold knew that the minds of men were
wont to change most unaccountably.
“Butzow,” he said suddenly to the lieutenant of horse, “how many do you
imagine know positively that he who has ruled Lutha for the past two
days and he who was crowned in the cathedral this noon are not one and
the same?”
“Only a few besides those who are in this room, your majesty,” replied
Butzow. “Peter and Coblich have known it from the first, and then there
is Kramer, the loyal old shopkeeper of Tafelberg, who followed Coblich
and Maenck all night and half a day as they dragged the king to the
hiding-place where we found him. Other than these there may be those
who guess the truth, but there are none who know.”
For a moment the king sat in thought. Then he rose and commenced pacing
back and forth the length of the apartment.
“Why should they ever know?” he said at last, halting before the three
men who had been standing watching him. “For the sake of Lutha they
should never know that another than the true king sat upon the throne
even for an hour.”
He was thinking of the comparison that might be drawn between the
heroic figure of the American and his own colorless part in the events
which had led up to his coronation. In his heart of hearts he felt that
old Von der Tann rather regretted that the American had not been the
king, and he hated the old man accordingly, and was commencing to hate
the American as well.
Prince Ludwig stood looking at the carpet after the king had spoken.
His judgment told him that the king’s suggestion was a wise one; but he
was sorry and ashamed that it had come from Leopold. Butzow’s lips
almost showed the contempt that he felt for the ingratitude of his
king.
Barney Custer was the first to speak.
“I think his majesty is quite right,” he said, “and tonight I can leave
the palace after dark and cross the border some time tomorrow evening.
The people need never know the truth.”
Leopold looked relieved.
“We must reward you, Mr. Custer,” he said. “Name that which it lies
within our power to grant you and it shall be yours.”
Barney thought of the girl he loved; but he did not mention her name,
for he knew that she was not for him now.
“There is nothing, your majesty,” he said.
“A money reward,” Leopold started to suggest, and then Barney Custer
lost his temper.
A flush mounted to his face, his chin went up, and there came to his
lips bitter words of sarcasm. With an effort, however, he held his
tongue, and, turning his back upon the king, his broad shoulders
proclaiming the contempt he felt, he walked slowly out of the room.
Von der Tann and Butzow and Leopold of Lutha stood in silence as the
American passed out of sight beyond the portal.
The manner of his going had been an affront to the king, and the young
ruler had gone red with anger.
“Butzow,” he cried, “bring the fellow back; he shall be taught a lesson
in the deference that is due kings.”
Butzow hesitated. “He has risked his life a dozen times for your
majesty,” said the lieutenant.
Leopold flushed.
“Do not humiliate him, sire,” advised Von der Tann. “He has earned a
greater reward at your hands than that.”
The king resumed his pacing for a moment, coming to a halt once more
before the two.
“We shall take no notice of his insolence,” he said, “and that shall be
our royal reward for his services. More than he deserves, we dare say,
at that.”
As Barney hastened through the palace on his way to his new quarters to
obtain his arms and order his horse saddled, he came suddenly upon a
girlish figure gazing sadly from a window upon the drear November
world—her heart as sad as the day.
At the sound of his footstep she turned, and as her eyes met the gray
ones of the man she stood poised as though of half a mind to fly. For a
moment neither spoke.
“Can your highness forgive?” he asked.
For answer the girl buried her face in her hands and dropped upon the
cushioned window seat before her. The American came close and knelt at
her side.
“Don’t,” he begged as he saw her shoulders rise to the sudden sobbing
that racked her slender frame. “Don’t!”
He thought that she wept from mortification that she had given her
kisses to another than the king.
“None knows,” he continued, “what has passed between us. None but you
and I need ever know. I tried to make you understand that I was not
Leopold; but you would not believe. It is not my fault that I loved
you. It is not my fault that I shall always love you. Tell me that you
forgive me my part in the chain of strange circumstances that deceived
you into an acknowledgment of a love that you intended for another.
Forgive me, Emma!”
Down the corridor behind them a tall figure approached on silent,
noiseless feet. At sight of the two at the window seat it halted. It
was the king.
The girl looked up suddenly into the eyes of the American bending so
close above her.
“I can never forgive you,” she cried, “for not being the king, for I am
betrothed to him—and I love you!”
Before she could prevent him, Barney Custer had taken her in his arms,
and though at first she made a pretense of attempting to escape, at
last she lay quite still. Her arms found their way about the man’s
neck, and her lips returned the kisses that his were showering upon her
upturned mouth.
Presently her glance wandered above the shoulder of the American, and
of a sudden her eyes filled with terror, and, with a little gasp of
consternation, she struggled to free herself.
“Let me go!” she whispered. “Let me go—the king!”
Barney sprang to his feet and, turning, faced Leopold. The king had
gone quite white.
“Failing to rob me of my crown,” he cried in a trembling voice, “you
now seek to rob me of my betrothed! Go to your father at once, and as
for you—you shall learn what it means for you thus to meddle in the
affairs of kings.”
Barney saw the terrible position in which his love had placed the
Princess Emma. His only thought now was for her. Bowing low before her
he spoke so that the king might hear, yet as though his words were for
her ears alone.
“Your highness knows the truth, now,” he said, “and that after all I am
not the king. I can only ask that you will forgive me the deception.
Now go to your father as the king commands.”
Slowly the girl turned away. Her heart was torn between love for this
man, and her duty toward the other to whom she had been betrothed in
childhood. The hereditary instinct of obedience to her sovereign was
strong within her, and the bonds of custom and society held her in
their relentless shackles. With a sob she passed up the corridor,
curtsying to the king as she passed him.
When she had gone Leopold turned to the American. There was an evil
look in the little gray eyes of the monarch.
“You may go your way,” he said coldly. “We shall give you forty-eight
hours to leave Lutha. Should you ever return your life shall be the
forfeit.”
The American kept back the hot words that were ready upon the end of
his tongue. For her sake he must bow to fate. With a slight inclination
of his head toward Leopold he wheeled and resumed his way toward his
quarters.
Half an hour later as he was about to descend to the courtyard where a
trooper of the Royal Horse held his waiting mount, Butzow burst
suddenly into his room.
“For God’s sake,” cried the lieutenant, “get out of this. The king has
changed his mind, and there is an officer of the guard on his way here
now with a file of soldiers to place you under arrest. Leopold swears
that he will hang you for treason. Princess Emma has spurned him, and
he is wild with rage.”
The dismal November twilight had given place to bleak night as two men
cantered from the palace courtyard and turned their horses’ heads
northward toward Lutha’s nearest boundary. All night they rode,
stopping at daylight before a distant farm to feed and water their
mounts and snatch a mouthful for themselves. Then onward once again
they pressed in their mad flight.
Now that day had come they caught occasional glimpses of a body of
horsemen far behind them, but the border was near, and their start such
that there was no danger of their being overtaken.
“For the thousandth time, Butzow,” said one of the men, “will you turn
back before it is too late?”
But the other only shook his head obstinately, and so they came to the
great granite monument which marks the boundary between Lutha and her
powerful neighbor upon the north.
Barney held out his hand. “Good-bye, old man,” he said. “If I’ve
learned the ingratitude of kings here in Lutha, I have found something
that more than compensates me—the friendship of a brave man. Now hurry
back and tell them that I escaped across the border just as I was about
to fall into your hands and they will think that you have been pursuing
me instead of aiding in my escape across the border.”
But again Butzow shook his head.
“I have fought shoulder to shoulder with you, my friend,” he said. “I
have called you king, and after that I could never serve the coward who
sits now upon the throne of Lutha. I have made up my mind during this
long ride from Lustadt, and I have come to the decision that I should
prefer to raise corn in Nebraska with you rather than serve in the
court of an ingrate.”
“Well, you are an obstinate Dutchman, after all,” replied the American
with a smile, placing his hand affectionately upon the shoulder of his
comrade.
There was a clatter of horses’ hoofs upon the gravel of the road behind
them.
The two men put spurs to their mounts, and Barney Custer galloped
across the northern boundary of Lutha just ahead of a troop of
Luthanian cavalry, as had his father thirty years before; but a royal
princess had accompanied the father—only a soldier accompanied the son.