A DESPERATE EXPEDIENT
The rest of the day was occupied by the new King in taking anxious
thought and counsel. His original purpose of declaring his identity
to the Chancellor was now, he felt, a very doubtful expedient. A very
black cloud was resting over him, and the crafty old Minister was
obviously not the one to look with favour upon men whose positions
were insecure. The alliance had been planned and mooted by him for
purely political reasons. With the shadow of doubt now lying over those
reasons, the expediency of the marriage practically disappeared, at
least for the moment. If only Ludovic had declared himself sooner!
As it was, a day’s delay had been fatal. And here came in the other
complicating circumstance which had all along made him withhold the
disclosure, the animus and prejudice against the unseen Prince Ludwig
which had taken such hold of Ruperta’s mind.
After the outbursts of detestation he had not dared to declare
himself. Loving her as he did, the risk was too great, for she was
still something of an enigma to him; and although one word would have
cleared up the situation and smoothed the course of their love, yet
the revulsion might have been too great, might,--who knows?--have
turned love to hate. At least it would have killed the romance; in
which had lain the very joy, the exquisite zest of their love. Ruperta
might very naturally have looked upon the incognito as a trick of
the Chancellor’s and as such would surely have resented it, and then
besides, was romance nothing to Ludovic himself? Was not his wooing her
as a simple lieutenant of cavalry, his gaining her love as such, going
through perils, facing death for her sake, those hazardous yet sweet
adventures crammed into those few delicious days, ten thousand times
more heart-stirring than the dull, cut-and-dried mockery of a courtship
regulated by etiquette and, its very duration settled by precedent,
proceeding tediously to its inevitable end? When he thought, as he did
a thousand times a day, of that first kiss, so thrilling in its very
unexpectedness, he told himself that that moment had given him a joy
which had he come as Prince he never, never could have known. Then as
to the adventures, the first at the fortune-teller’s, so piquant, the
others so perilous yet so delicious, he was young and could enjoy them
to the full, never troubling himself as to the risks he ran in the
attainment of a joy which he had scarcely dared imagine might ever be
his, the finding of love where he had dreaded to meet with coldness
and distaste. But that love had seemed so delicately poised that he
feared to try the touch which might shatter it. It was strong enough in
opposition and adversity; what might it not turn to when the fraud of
his trial was disclosed?
When the scheme of the marriage had been agreed to by the King and
Ministers and then, as a natural, though hardly political, necessity,
had been mooted to him, he had hated the idea almost as cordially
as ever did his destined bride. Expediency counts for little at
five-and-twenty, at least in a free and healthy character. When the
blood is warm the heart must govern the head, or love will have nothing
to say to either. The very fact that these two young people hated the
idea of one another was in reality an all-sufficient reason to fall
desperately in love with each other if once the air could be cleared
of the mist of expediency and arrangement. Could that ever be? It hung
over their hearts like a foul miasma, choking the very life of love.
Their aversion to the match was pretty equal; their attitude differed
with their sex. Ludwig, with a man’s steady common-sense, realized the
wisdom of the policy and, with bitterness in his heart, bowed to the
inevitable which his rank prescribed. Only he vowed he would put off
that inevitable as long as possible. The little liberty he enjoyed
was dear to him--and he was only twenty-five. Where was the hurry? He
was answered that it lay in certain contingencies, death; lusty youth
laughs at that; an interloper; the Princess Ruperta might make another
match; he fervently hoped she would. That was a reason for, rather than
against, delay, he told himself, though he was too wise to utter his
thoughts. A Minister who, in a royal alliance, should take love into
consideration, would be unworthy of the very strap of his portfolio.
So Ludwig kept his own counsel, blowing neither hot nor cold upon
the project, and quietly made preparations for a solitary hunting
excursion. The King, his uncle, protested, but could not well deny his
heir a month’s respite. After all, it would perhaps be no bad thing
to show Chancellor Rollmar that they on their side were not exactly
jumping at his proposal.
But on the eve of his departure Ludwig heard something which induced
him to make some change in the necessary baggage prepared for the
expedition. He set out on the appointed day towards the great forest
where the sport lay, but it was to pass through that wild district with
little harm to fur or feather. He had heard something of the Princess,
his intended bride, something which excited his imagination and raised
his curiosity into a desire to verify it. So as simple Lieutenant
Ludovic von Bertheim he came to Waldenthor, his whereabouts being known
to no one but his friend Anton de Gayl, and there, in pursuance of his
design, saw the Princess, then by a lucky chance, as has been related,
met her in as romantic a fashion as could be desired. But from that
moment he had gradually created a situation where the physical danger
of remaining was outweighed by the moral risk of withdrawing, and every
day the difficulty intensified; until now, when an unlooked-for crisis
had suddenly arisen, his position had become almost untenable. However,
as an expedient from this, he, with characteristic boldness, determined
on a desperate course of action.
Every shred of the innate chivalry which was his in so large a measure
forbade him to allow the Princess to be carried off for his sake a
prisoner to the Fortress of Krell while he could lift a hand to prevent
it. Rollmar’s drastic measure could have been easily obviated had
Ludwig still been in the position he had occupied hitherto. As heir
to the throne of Drax-Beroldstein, and the object of the Chancellor’s
darling plan, he would have had but to declare himself, share the
secret of his incognito with the Minister, when all would have been
easy, and the romance of the wooing might have continued till Ruperta’s
enlightenment was no longer to be dreaded. But now? What would his
reception be by that astute old opportunist? Already, no doubt, on the
news he had just received, he was substituting Ferdinand for Ludwig
as Princess Ruperta’s bridegroom. Was not the old fox capable even of
making things certain and saving possible trouble by continuing to mark
him down for destruction, perhaps now with still greater zeal? No;
that course, a few hours before so simple, was now ineffective. The
bolder and desperate plan must be resorted to no longer for the sake of
romance, but from sheer necessity.
Accordingly Captain von Ompertz, much to his satisfaction, was taken
into counsel, and a very workable scheme the soldier of fortune had to
submit.
At night-fall Ludovic and he made their way secretly into the park
and across to the wing of the palace which contained the Princess’s
apartments, De Gayl having been left in charge of the travelling
carriage outside the park wall. As they approached the palace,
Ompertz stopped with a warning gesture and pointed to a figure, just
discernible, standing in the shadow of the wall below the Princess’s
windows. “The old fox has set a guard,” he whispered. “I must try
impudence to get rid of him, and, if that fails, cold steel. Ugh! Let’s
hope that won’t be needed; it makes me sick to draw in cold blood. Stay
here, and for her Highness’s sake, do not let him smoke you.”
He had begun to go forward now, striding boldly towards the sentinel
who, as he drew near, challenged him.
“It is all right, friend,” he replied with easy assurance. “You know
Captain von Ompertz. I have come by his Excellency’s orders to relieve
you.”
“To relieve me?” the guard repeated dubiously.
“Certainly,” Ompertz returned boldly, cleverly refraining from
explanations in favour of plausible bluffness. “Chancellor’s orders.
Is not that enough? If you want reasons, why, you’ll find him at home
yonder, and can go and ask him, which is more than I care to do.”
“Oh, I’m content enough,” the other returned, with a gruff laugh. “If
you are ordered to relieve me, so much the better night’s rest. Good
evening.”
“Quiet guard, comrade?”
“Seen nothing till you came along.”
“Right! Good-night.” And the fellow went off.
Ompertz had speculated shrewdly enough upon the chance that his being
no longer in Rollmar’s service would not be generally known. In this he
had proved right, and to the sentry, who knew nothing of the change,
the abrupt relief had seemed, after all, quite natural, especially
as the Chancellor’s orders were notoriously apt to be sudden and
inexplicable. The fellow had hardly known why he had been stationed
there; beyond what was dictated by a certain native caution, he could
not question the order which sent him off duty.
And now Ompertz had a clear stage for the carrying out of his plan.
That he was expected by Minna and her mistress was soon evident. The
window opened, and, after a short parley, Ompertz ran off to the spot
where he had left his companion and returned with him, carrying also a
bundle which contained a rope ladder upon which his energies had that
afternoon been expended.
To carry the Princess off under the very nose of the keen old
Chancellor was daring almost to madness. Yet what else could be done?
The alternative was to see her consigned to the prison-castle of Krell
till she should consent to marry Ferdinand the Usurper, or Ludwig the
Detested, whichever fortune should leave in possession of the kingdom.
Would Ruperta ever forgive him if he abandoned her now? Hardly: though
his absence were to regain his kingdom. And if he failed in that? Then
his state would be hopeless indeed. No. Debate it as he would, he
always came back to the conclusion that, as things had stood between
them, he could not, dared not, leave her. To run away as King Ludwig,
even on so creditable an errand, would be to wake her rudely and for
ever from the dream of Lieutenant von Bertheim.
The plan had yet to be proposed to the Princess. She might well draw
back at the idea of a step so daring, so perilous, so absolutely
mad from her point of view, ignorant as she was of her lover’s real
position. But her letter of that morning had indicated that her temper
was ripe for a desperate attempt at escape from Rollmar’s coercion, and
on that idea he had acted.
A weighted end of twine was thrown in at the window, and by that
the rope ladder was drawn up. When this had been made fast, Ludovic
ascended.
“So you have not gone,” Ruperta said as he kissed her hand.
“Could I go,” he replied, “and leave you, dearest Princess, to bear
the punishment I have brought upon you? Is it true that you are to be
taken to Krell?”
“It is true,” she answered, with a show of proud resentment, “that we
have been ordered to prepare for the journey. But the Baron may find
that it is one thing to order and another to be obeyed.”
“He sends you to Krell because you will not marry Prince Ludwig?”
She laughed scornfully. “Prince Ludwig? No. The Baron’s regard for my
feelings is shown by his now having provided another husband for me.
Prince Ludwig has suddenly dropped out of the question.”
“Ah?”
“Yes,” she continued, in all bitterness. “King Josef is dead suddenly.
The gallant Ludwig is nowhere to be found; he has had the good sense
to efface himself at the thought of marrying me. His cousin Ferdinand
has got himself proclaimed King, and as the throne, not the man, is
Rollmar’s design for me, I am now to think no more of dear Ludwig
but to marry Ferdinand, or else spend the rest of my existence in
the dungeons of Krell, a warning to those who think to thwart our
Chancellor. If I had loved Ludwig as much as I have hated him it would
have been all the same.”
“So you have seen Rollmar?”
“This afternoon. Yes, and defied him. He seemed to consider any
delicacy in announcing the change of bridegrooms quite unnecessary. He
was at least frank in his brutality, and had but one word to answer all
my objections; Krell. But he shall see.”
She spoke with a repressed indignation which seemed bursting for an
outlet. He took her hand and they looked into each other’s eyes with a
mutual understanding.
“Then you will come with me, dearest?” he said.
For a moment she did not answer, but her silence was not of hesitation,
her eyes seemed searching into his very soul.
“I can trust you?”
“To my life’s end, my love.” Her hands were clasped in his now. “But
you shall not come with us, you shall not share my fortunes except by
your own free will and wish. My love is too true to lead you selfishly
away from your greater destiny.”
Her eyes were ever looking into his. “I know you are true,” she said
at last. “Ah! how I wish I could tell--could see the light beyond
this darkness.” She turned away and leaned against the carved mantel,
bowing her head on her crossed arms. So for many seconds they stayed in
silence, Minna from the far end of the room watching anxiously for the
decision which might mean so much to her.
Ruperta raised her head. “Oh, how I loathe this life!” she cried
passionately. “How I hate the cold false hearts that surround me here.
Am I never to know anything but indifference, and cold-blooded scheming
and deceit? Am I fit for nothing but to be pushed about, joyless and
hopeless, on this pitiless old intriguer’s chessboard? I will not
endure it; I will not. It shall end. He has threatened me. He shall see
I am not to be threatened with impunity. If my father is weak, that is
no reason why I should submit. I will go from this hated life. Ludovic,
I will go with you.”
As she turned impulsively towards him, he met her.
“Ruperta,” he said, “you must go for love of me, or you will repent
this act.”
For love of him, of a poor Lieutenant of Cavalry. And she a Princess,
only child of a royal house. Truly the plunge was into darkness.
Repentance? Could she think of that now? Poor girl, with all her pride
and beauty and imperiousness, her fate looked gloomy enough but for the
twin stars that seemed to light her way, freedom and love. She put out
her hand. “Yes,” she replied simply. “I will go for love of you.”
Their lips met, then he said, “Come, then, dearest, we have no time to
lose.”
The hasty preparations for the journey were soon made while the two
men waited below, where soon without mishap Ruperta and Minna joined
them, and when Ompertz had, as far as possible, removed the evidence of
their flight, the four set off warily across the park. They reached the
travelling carriage in safety and with no sign of pursuit. It had been
arranged that de Gayl should ride on in advance and take counsel with
certain friends of Ludovic’s, and, if thought advisable, announce his
approach.
So he gave up the reins to Ompertz and hurried off towards the city
where his horse waited ready saddled. Ompertz whipped up the horses,
and so the momentous flight began.