AN UNEXPECTED DEVELOPMENT
Night, falling over the dark forest, effectually hid Ludovic and
Ompertz, who were making their stealthy way towards the trysting-place.
All through the dragging hours of that weary afternoon they had lain
hidden among the rocks, having before them the curtain of a great clump
of brushwood. Once they saw a couple of armed men stroll by: they wore
the Count’s heraldic badge on their arms, and, by their manner, were
evidently a patrol keeping a quiet look-out. Possibly, however, with
the idea that their chief’s late guests were hardly likely to have run
the risk of lingering so near the castle, the guard made no serious
search for them, contenting themselves with a casual sharp watch. That
was the only incident to break the monotony of those anxious hours; it
served to give the lurkers assurance that their presence was hardly
expected.
Never was the falling dusk so welcome as on that evening. When it was
safely dark, the two stole out, eager to be about their desperate
attempt. For to entertain the idea that they two, even with the
lady’s help, could rescue the prisoners from a man so powerful,
so resourceful, so wary as the Count, and get them away from his
prison-like stronghold, was, could they have considered it soberly,
nothing short of madness. But, in truth, their situation was as
desperate as was their venture; they could not view it dispassionately
if they would. Action was imperative; delay intolerable; the danger
and distress of the prisoners was bound to increase every moment they
remained in that robber’s den.
The two men had but half a mile to go from their hiding-place to
the rendezvous, but the nature of the ground they traversed, and
the need of extreme caution left little remaining of the half-hour
after night-fall which was their appointed time. Save for a few dim
streaks of moonlight which filtered through the trees, the wood was
perplexingly dark as they crept through it. Stealing along like
marauding panthers, they arrived at length, without incident or alarm,
at the meeting-place. No one was there. Standing close to a great tree,
they waited for their guide’s appearance. Scarcely a sound broke the
stillness, as they stood there, keenly watchful; the slightest movement
or rustle seemed intensified in that black atmosphere of silence; the
two men drew their very breaths cautiously, as they strained their
eyes into the darkness for the first glimpse of an abnormal movement.
But none came to end their motionless impatience. Minutes passed
without any indication that the tryst was to be kept. At last, when the
appointed time was well past, Ludovic whispered to his companion, “Let
us go forward. She may be here waiting for us, as we are for her.”
Ompertz nodded and they crept out warily into the path. All was still;
ahead of them they could see a dull haze of light rising, evidently
from the lighted windows of the castle below. Suddenly Ompertz put
out his hand and touched Ludovic, then pointed forwards to an object
which his trained eye had detected dimly outlined against the faint
light. Surely it was the figure of a woman standing beside the path.
So the lady had been waiting for them all the while. Vexed at their
short-sighted caution, which had lost so much time, Ludovic went
quickly forward. She stood quietly, so motionless that they wondered
she did not turn at their approach. She had taken her position rather
unwisely, Ompertz thought, at a spot where a thin shaft of moonlight
pierced the trees, bringing her figure into a somewhat dangerous
prominence. As Ludovic came within a few paces of her, he saw it was
she whom they looked for: his hand was raised in the act of salutation,
when suddenly, as though shot, he stopped with a great start and a half
cry.
“Ompertz! Great Heaven! Look!” he cried hoarsely under his breath.
In an instant Ompertz by a quick stride was at his shoulder. The two
men peered forward, with apprehensive intentness, at the girl’s figure.
Then, as by a common impulse, they turned and looked at each other
aghast. Next moment, Ompertz, to whom familiarity with horrors had
given a quicker recovery of nerve and power of action, sprang forward
to the motionless figure. Only to recoil with a deep exclamation of
wrath and abhorrence. As he turned and his eyes met Ludovic’s, the King
saw in them the answer to his gasped question.
“She is dead?”
Ompertz nodded and came close to him, seizing his arm.
“Dead? Yes. Foully murdered for this business. The man is a devil
incarnate.”
Without another word, for the horror was too appalling for speech, they
went a step forward and saw what the deed had been.
The body of the girl was cunningly lashed to the trunk of a young
tree which had been cut down to about the height of her head, and so
formed a support to keep her in an erect posture. The attitude was
natural, and, from a few paces off, the deception was perfect. But now
the grey face, strangely handsome even in its ghastliness, set off in
horrible contrast by the rich dress and jewels which, sparkling in the
moonlight, mocked the lustreless eyes, was so awful that more than the
first glance at it was unendurable. As Ludovic averted his head in an
agony of impotent rage and sorrow, Ompertz caught his arm and said in
his ear.
“His vengeance will not stop here, sire.”
Ludovic roused himself from the horror that seemed to deprive him of
all thought, save one, and understood his meaning.
“We cannot go,” he said desperately, “after that.” He pointed with a
shudder to the Tragedy. “Now less than ever, since we know----”
He stopped, for Ompertz had made a warning gesture, and now turned his
head, listening intently. There was a stealthy rustle in the trees;
while they listened in doubt, it increased and seemed to come from
all sides. Then suddenly came a low cry of command, followed, without
pause, by a noise as of men rushing swiftly and stealthily upon them.
“Look out, sire,” Ompertz cried. “It is a trap! We are surrounded.”
As he spoke, dark forms appeared, running upon them through the trees.
With a soldier’s readiness to meet and make the best of a surprise,
Ompertz had whipped out his pistols, and fired two quick shots at the
foremost of the advancing figures.
“Follow me, sire,” he exclaimed. “We must cut our way through, or we
are dead men. It is our only chance. Keep your fire for the moment. I
fancy I have accounted for two. This is our best way.”
As he spoke, he sprang forward into the wood, over the bodies of the
two men whom his shots had brought down. Ludovic followed, sword
and pistol in hand. There were angry cries behind them, but, for
the moment, they got a slight start, having broken through the ring
of their assailants at the point where Ompertz’s shots had made an
opening. Keeping arm to arm, the two ran on as fast as the thick
wood allowed them, dodging the trees which stood in the way of their
progress, stumbling, falling, bruising themselves against the trunks,
which seemed to advance against them in the darkness, yet always, as
the shouts told them, keeping ahead of their pursuers. It was a grim
hunt, with death a certainty if they were taken.
“Mad fool that I was to let you stay, sire,” Ompertz groaned,
desperately making his way through the hindering trees, with every
thought concentrated on securing his companion’s safety, none troubling
as to his own.
“I care nothing for my life now,” Ludovic returned, with set teeth;
“only to get Ruperta from the clutches of that murdering devil. At
least, he will buy my death at a price beyond his fancy.”
As they kept on, hope came to Ompertz that they might, after all, in
that great thick woodland, succeed in evading their pursuers. The
voices behind them were no longer heard. They stopped and listened,
uncertain whether to conclude that the attack had been completely
baffled, or the human beasts of prey were but preparing for a second
spring upon them. They soon, however, became unpleasantly aware that
their good luck was but imaginary. Suddenly there came from all around
them, as it seemed, a quick succession of low, signalling cries.
“We are surrounded again,” Ludovic said. “Fools that we were to think
we had got clear.”
“They have not taken us yet, sire,” Ompertz replied, as, with grim
determination on his face, he finished the reloading of his discharged
pistols. “We will account for a few, I hope, of these villains before
the end comes, if it be so near. Happily, though they outnumber us
ten to one or more, yet their master does not seem to trust them with
fire-arms. Now, sire, let us make a rush for it. Once out of the
wood----Hah! what is that? By St. Hubert, they have lights for the
better hunting of us down.”
It was true enough. From various points in the circle round them, came,
first a dull glow; then, as the brightness increased, an occasional
flash was seen, as in the narrowing ring of their pursuers, the
torches were thrust to and fro.
“At least their lights serve to show us where they are and where they
are not,” Ompertz observed, with a laugh. “Yonder seems a likely place
to break through. Come, sire.”
Without a moment’s further hesitation they made a dash at a spot where
the interval between the lights seemed greatest. Their assailants had
evidently not thought them so near; as the two burst upon them out of
the darkness, which was intensified beyond the radius of light given by
the glaring torches, the Count’s men gave a cry of surprise, and sprang
at them. But before a blow could be struck, two pistol shots rang out,
the lights the men held made the aim easy to their own undoing; next
instant there were two bodies on the ground and two torches crackling
half-extinguished on the wood’s spiky carpet. Then came a shout, a
hunting cry, only more charged with rage and thirst for blood, followed
by a rush, as the whole band converged and made for the track of
the two who were now running for their lives. The pursuers had the
advantage, since they could see their way; the glare of the lights came
ever nearer, the savage cries of the man-hunters sounded closer, the
fugitives could hear the desperate panting of the men, straining every
nerve to come up with them, and make a speedy end to the night’s work.
“God, sire, that you should die like this!” Ompertz cried with a great
sob, as the two, ever shoulder to shoulder, ran their losing race with
despair. Truly the end seemed close now, as close as the exultant,
panting ruffians at their heels. “That I cannot give the hounds my life
for yours!” The words were wrung from him in that great agony of regret.
“It is well, my faithful friend,” Ludovic replied, as he put forth his
hand and gave the other’s arm a friendly grasp. “You have played your
part nobly. I am only sorry that I have led so brave a spirit to a
trap like this.”
For all seemed over now. Save for the satisfaction of the act, it was
hardly worth while to turn and send another brace of those hireling
murderers to their death. But the last stand had to come, that it was
but a few seconds away each of the two felt in his heart. They would
not fall flying, but with faces set to their foes. They could run
only till the foremost cutlass came within striking distance. It was
but a very few feet away now. Ludovic had the word on his lips, when
there came an exclamation from Ompertz; a gasp, it sounded, of grim
satisfaction. The scene had suddenly changed, so unexpectedly, that it
seemed like magic. The thick wood had abruptly come to an end, they
were in open ground, in comparative light, since the sky showed clear
above them.
“Thank Heaven we shall die in the open,” Ompertz ejaculated, as they
ran down the sloping approach from the wood. “It is some comfort to
get another look at Heaven, whether our journey lie that way or the
opposite.”
The Count’s men, like beasts of prey, were now tearing after them,
their eagerness being probably stimulated by a shrewd idea of the way
in which their chief would be likely to recognize their failure.
On the open ground it was soon apparent that there was no chance of
distancing the pursuit.
“We must turn and face them,” Ludovic said to his companion, as,
turning his head, he caught sight of the flash of a blade almost within
reach of his head.
“No, no, sire; for Heaven’s sake keep on a little longer,” the soldier
gasped. “We may escape them yet. If only we can get to the rocks
yonder. Ah!”
The foremost of their pursuers, an ill-visaged, swarthy giant, was now
within striking distance of Ludovic. Ompertz, running for his life,
was yet keeping an eye on the fellow over his shoulder, watching for
the moment when the blade would be raised for the stroke. As he spoke
the last words, he caught the glint of the steel over Ludovic’s head.
He turned and checked his pace just enough to get a certain aim, then
fired, and, with a roar, the great fellow pitched heels over head. The
next man was perhaps ten paces farther behind; the fugitives had a
renewed start. The rocks, for which they were making, were now quite
near.
“Courage, sire! Keep on at your fastest,” Ompertz cried in his
desperate hope. “We may make a stand against them yet. With our pistols
we may hold these rocks----ah, no! by the ever-lasting thunder, they
have trapped us after all!”
His quick eye had seen that, from an opening in the dark hill-side, a
body of horsemen had suddenly appeared, filing out on the open ground
across which the two had nearly made their way. As they emerged from
the path, they deployed with military smartness, and so formed an
almost invincible barrier between the fugitives and the rocks for which
they were making.
“We are nicely caught between two fires, now,” Ompertz exclaimed with a
groan.
“Never mind; let us fight while we can,” Ludovic returned.
They had slackened their pace, seeing the hopelessness of getting clear
away to the rocks. The Count’s men from behind were now upon them.
“We must try to fight our way back to the wood,” Ompertz cried
desperately. “We have no chance here against horsemen.”
There was little chance enough for them any way; it was merely a
question of how many lives they could exact in payment for their own.
Seeing them halt and turn, the men gave a cry of exultant
blood-thirstiness, and rushed to close in upon them. “Shoot, sire,”
said Ompertz, “and let us have one the fewer to deal with.”
Ludovic’s pistol rang out, and a man fell. Ompertz pointed his empty
pistol, and, seeing their comrade go down, the assailants checked
their onslaught. But the Count was coming up behind them; his furious
tones sounded above the rest, and the stimulus of that dominant
spirit put an end to hesitation. If death was a risk in front, it was
a certainty behind them, and the Count had a peculiarly unpleasant
lethal prescription for cowards and blunderers. So the men were fain to
attack, in spite of the ugly little barrel which swept round upon them
as they spread out to surround the doomed pair.
But now the precious fire could no longer be husbanded. Ompertz, hemmed
in, shot down with his second pistol the most aggressive of their
adversaries. The man’s fall caused but a momentary backward sway of the
on-coming force, which was now ready to attack at all points, and make
short and final work of their victims. As the great body dropped with a
half-choked cry and a thud, his companions, with savage cries of rage,
brandished their weapons and made a simultaneous rush to close in.
Back to back the two doomed men stood, grimly determined to make as
many lives as possible pay for their own, since all else but death was
out of the question. Ludovic was now utterly possessed by the spirit of
blind, despairing recklessness. The sense of the terrible irony of his
fate had passed from his mind. All hope was gone; one after the other
his kingdom and his love had been snatched from him, and now Fate’s
shears were already meeting on the thread of his life. So free of the
world and all it held dear for him did he feel, that he could laugh
and enjoy the desperate excitement of that last struggle, where, since
he could not win, he could delight in reducing his opponent’s gain.
In those terrible moments, when the murdering swords and villainous
faces with eyes drunk with the lust for slaughter pressed round him,
he fought with a coolness and effect which forced from him a laugh at
his own success. He could not have imagined their holding out like
that. He heard, above the guttural hubbub, the Count’s voice roaring,
as much, it seemed, in impatient annoyance as encouragement. Then from
Ompertz behind him came a loud exclamation of triumph, a shout as gaily
jubilant as a man might give on a successful stroke at tennis, but it
meant that another of the Count’s ruffians had been accounted for, and
the debt which their lives were to pay was growing.
But almost immediately afterwards the soldier gave a different cry.
“Ah! I am done for!”
Instantly Ludovic turned to see his comrade practically disarmed, his
uplifted hand grasped but the hilt of his shattered sword.
“My beauty! Gone at last, and on these swine,” he cried ruefully.
There was but one sword now to defend two men. Ompertz, with a
despairing oath, hurled the sword-hilt full in the face of the man
who was about to thrust at him. The fellow’s intention was naturally
checked by the blow which took him fairly on the mouth, and, profiting
by the moment’s respite, Ompertz made a vigorous spring out of the
immediate reach of his assailants, but instead of trying to escape
rushed desperately towards the Count.
“Count!” he cried, throwing out his arms, “kill me, as you please, but
save him. He is Prince Ludwig of Drax-Beroldstein.”
He stopped, for, with an exclamation of angry surprise, the Count had
turned from him and ran forward, peering through the semi-darkness
at a sight which had suddenly attracted him. For a moment Ompertz
supposed that it was Ludovic who was the object of his attention, and
he, too, ran back to where he had left him, fearing that he must by
now have fallen. To his surprise he found Ludovic standing alone; his
assailants had drawn away from him, and were facing, in, as it seemed,
some consternation, the mounted troops which had now advanced from the
shadow of the rocks into the open. The sudden cessation in the attack
was incomprehensible to both men. But, taking in the situation as he
found it, Ompertz lost no time in snatching a cutlass from one of the
dead men, and then sprang to the King’s side.
“Are you hurt, sire?”
Before Ludovic could answer, the horsemen were upon them.
“We shall have less chance now than ever,” Ompertz muttered, preparing,
all the same, to return the expected assault.
But a strange thing happened. The on-coming horsemen halted within a
few paces, showing no intention of immediate attack. Then the Count’s
strong voice was heard challenging them, and at the words a ray of hope
broke in upon Ompertz’s mind.
“What is the matter? What devil’s game are you playing here by night?”
a sharp voice called out.
“By the God of wonders, they are strangers,” Ompertz ejaculated, in
sanguine astonishment.
The Count flung back a fierce reply to the inquiry.
“What business is that of yours? Resume your way, and leave what does
not concern you.”
“Are you Count Irromar?” the same sharp voice demanded.
“I am Count Irromar,” came the reply; “and answerable to no man for
what happens in my own domain.”
“I am not equally sure of that,” the other returned, in a nettled tone.
“I will brook no interference from you or any other man,” the Count
shouted, resentfully. “Will you please to pass on your way? You are off
your road here.”
Any further rejoinder from the leader of the troop was prevented by a
cry of discovery from one of his own men who was nearest to Ludovic and
Ompertz.
“Captain! Captain! We are in luck at last. Here are the very men we are
seeking!”
“What!” The leader put his horse forward, and came up eagerly to where
the two men stood. As he reined up, they both recognised him; Udo
Rollmar.
“So I have caught you at last, my dashing Lieutenant,” Udo exclaimed,
viciously exultant. “Before I hang you on the nearest tree, you will
tell me----”
“What has become of the Princess,” Ludovic said. “I will tell you at
once. She is a prisoner in that castle.”
“Ah, you vile traitor--you----”
Ludovic went up close to his horse’s head. “I will tell you something
more,” he began. Udo’s horse made a slight plunge forward, and Ludovic
put his hand on the bridle. Udo raised his sword.
“Back! you dog,” he cried savagely. “Keep your distance, or----”
The other made a gesture of warning. “I am King Ludwig of
Drax-Beroldstein,” he said quietly.
Udo’s hand fell, and he stared at Ludovic for some moments, as scarcely
realizing the announcement. At length he said:
“The King of Drax-Beroldstein’s name is Ferdinand.”
“Not the rightful king’s. I tell you I am he. I came to your Court,
incognito, for an obvious reason, to add some romance to your father’s
matrimonial projects. You comprehend? Now, an unfortunate series of
accidents has hampered my plans. All that can be explained later. The
Princess must be our first consideration. That ruffian yonder, Count
Irromar, is, I tell you, keeping her prisoner there.”
Udo’s face hardly exhibited the satisfaction and respect which might
have been expected from the disclosure of Ludovic’s identity. A scowl
of forced suspicion rested there; manifestly he was not relishing the
part fate had cast him for in that romance. His father’s sentiments
in the business differed, as has been seen, considerably from his
own. The feeling uppermost in his mind just then was probably intense
regret that he had arrived on the scene in time to interfere in the
Count’s amiable intentions towards his rival. But there he was, and
the situation was to be accepted as he found it. He could hardly take
upon himself to complete the Count’s work. The Chancellor would surely
find out any such treachery, and was not the man to spare, in such
a case, even his own son. For, in spite of the incredulity which he
thought proper to assume, something told Captain Udo that this was the
veritable Prince Ludovic. The adventure, now that he was given the clue
to it, was plausible enough, and it was obvious from his demeanor that
the man who stood before him was something more than a lying lieutenant.
“This is all very fine and mysterious,” he said ungraciously, still
affecting a doubt he scarcely felt, “and I do not understand it.”
“It is of no consequence,” Ludovic returned with dignity. “You will, at
least, not disbelieve me when I tell you that the Princess Ruperta is
in that castle, held prisoner, and, for aught I know, in dire peril. As
to who or what I am, that can be determined later. But no time must be
lost in rescuing her Highness from that villain’s clutches.”
There was hardly room even to pretend to doubt that statement, and Udo
resumed action, nothing loath, perhaps, to play the rescuer and get
Ruperta out of the danger into which her lover had brought her. He
wheeled his horse and cantered back to the spot whence the Count had
addressed him, only to find that during his colloquy with Ludovic, the
Count and most of his party had disappeared.