ROLLAMAR’S POLICY
This manœuvre of the Count’s gave little surprise to Ludovic, although
he felt angry with himself for not having foreseen it, and, indeed,
in letting Irromar slip away, the chance of speedily rescuing the
Princess had been lost. Udo Rollmar showed his double discomfiture
pretty plainly. However, he did not let his moodiness interfere with
his activity. He sent several of his men in pursuit of the Count’s
party, but with little success. The wooded and rocky approach to the
back of the castle hampered the movement of men unfamiliar with the
winding paths and concealed passages; consequently the result of the
pursuit was the capture of but one man. This fellow laughed defiantly
when Udo ordered him to gain admittance for them into the castle as the
alternative to his being strung up on the nearest tree.
“A pleasant draught that,” he laughed sturdily, “set against the dose
our Count would have ready for me.”
“Nonsense, man,” Udo said impatiently; “you will have our protection,
and as for the Count----”
The fellow interrupted him with a still more derisive laugh. “The
Count? You think, with your score of men, to come to a reckoning with
him? Why, Captain, you might as soon try to catch in your hand a bird
flying past you. Ten times your force would never get inside that
castle, were the Count minded to keep you out: and if you did get in
you would never get out again.”
“We shall see,” Udo returned, scornfully confident.
“You do not know my master,” said the man.
“I know him,” Udo retorted, “for a pestilent, defiant law-breaker. A
villain who, for this piece of work, will at last meet the hangman who
has long been expecting him.”
The prisoner’s only reply was an incredulous laugh.
“Do you mean to show us how to gain entrance to the castle?” Udo
demanded impatiently.
“Not I,” the fellow answered. “And you may thank me for refusing to do
you that ill service.”
Udo raised his hand, as though about to order him to be strung up;
then, with a change of intention, he had him bound and attached to one
of his troopers.
“It is as well to keep the fellow alive for a while,” he said to
Ludovic; “we may find a use for him.”
“In my opinion the ugly scoundrel is certainly right, Captain,” Ompertz
observed. “This is no place to account for with a handful of men. It
could defy you at that rate till doomsday.”
By his ill-humoured face, Udo did not seem to accept the opinion very
graciously. But he was fain to consult with Ludovic upon the position
in which they found themselves. His manner towards the King was
dubiously deferential, suggesting that he would have liked to discredit
him were he only certain of his ground.
“You may accept the fellow’s word,” Ludovic said, ignoring Udo’s
manner in his paramount anxiety for Ruperta. “It would, I am sure, be
absolutely useless to attempt to force our way into the place. And
here, from behind, is its least vulnerable point. I fear all we can do
is to go round to the front and threaten or, at least, parley with the
Count.”
Udo’s aggrieved expression seemed, as doubtless it was intended, to
make the most of the undeniable fact that it was by the extravagant act
of Ludovic himself--king or no king--that the Princess had fallen into
this trap. However, he accepted his advice, and the party made their
way round into the narrow valley and so up to the front of the castle.
Here, with sound of bugle and peremptory hammering at the great door,
the master was summoned and entrance demanded. But not a sign of
impression was or seemed likely to be made. After a while, however, a
grating in the door was uncovered, and a man-servant, after blandly
inquiring the reason of the summons, intimated that if the leaders of
the party would come forward alone, having drawn off their men down
into the valley, the Count, his master, might be graciously pleased
to speak with them from a window. As this seemed the best chance they
might expect, Udo ordered down his men, and remained on the highest
terrace with Ludovic and Ompertz. For many minutes they stood there
cooling their impatience. Presently, however, a light appeared at a
window above their heads; it was opened, and at it the Count appeared
with a face of bland, protesting surprise.
“May I ask the reason of this somewhat rude summons?” he inquired.
“What do you gentlemen want?”
“We want,” Udo answered, “the ladies whom you are keeping prisoners.”
The Count raised his eyebrows in still further surprise. “Really,
gentlemen,” he replied, “I am at a loss to understand you. You are
making, knowingly or in ignorance, an extraordinary mistake. I know
nothing of any ladies in my house.”
His affectation of ignorance, while it rather nonplussed Captain
Rollmar, exasperated Ludovic, to whom it was disagreeably familiar.
“A truce to this nonsense and pretence, Count,” he cried. “We are not
here to discuss whether these ladies are in your keeping or not, but to
demand their instant release.”
The light held by the Count’s face showed an ugly wave that for an
instant ruffled its blandness. “You demand, sir?” he returned, with a
slight indication of sternness behind his suavity. “You are as bold to
ask me for what I have not got, as unreasonable to disturb my peace at
this time of night.”
His cool lying was a shield which no words could pierce.
“Then,” said Udo hotly, “you refuse to give up these ladies?”
“Were any ladies under the protection of my poor roof,” Irromar
replied, with maddening calmness, “I should certainly refuse to deliver
them over to what I am almost forced to regard as a band of drunken
marauders.”
“You will rue this insolence before many hours are past,” Udo cried
angrily. “So far from being a drunken marauder, I am Captain Udo von
Rollmar, of his Highness Duke Theodor of Waldavia’s Bodyguard of
Cavalry. My father is Chancellor, Baron von Rollmar, and----”
“And your friends?” The words came snapped out with pointed, malicious
intent, “and your friends, who have, in return for my hospitality,
murdered my poor servants in cold blood, and attempted my own life--who
may they be?”
“I am one,” Ludovic retorted, “who possesses the power to have you
hanged, and I will not rest till I have done so.”
The Count laughed. “And you expect me to open my gates to you?”
“Certainly, to let out the two ladies.”
The Count made a gesture and a grimace of protest.
“This trick shall not serve you, Count, for long,” Ludovic said,
checking his almost ungovernable anger in his anxiety for the Princess.
“Let me tell you, the ladies you keep prisoners are of high rank, and
you will detain them another hour at your peril.”
The Count smiled as resentfully indulgent. “Were the facts as you
state them, I should be tempted to ask how ladies of high rank come to
be travelling in this wild country in company with a pair of common
swashbucklers, if the expression may be allowed me.”
This touched Ompertz, who had hitherto stood by chafing in silence.
“You will pay for that, my sweet Count, on my own as well as this
gentleman’s account, if ever I come within striking distance of you.”
“It is late,” Irromar observed, with his terrible coolness, “and chilly
for listening to insane threats and bluster. I have already indulged
you too long. I can only repeat that I have no knowledge of the ladies
whom you say you seek. Now, Captain, I bid you good-night, and if
I might venture to add a word of advice, it would be that you will
do well to dissociate yourself forthwith from your two disreputable
companions. You are a young man, and--what is strange in your father’s
son--you seem easily gullible. Good-night.”
The window was closed with a bang, and the light disappeared. The three
men turned and descended to one of the lower terraces, where they held
a short consultation. Each was convinced that an attempt with that
handful of men to force a way into the stronghold was not to be thought
of, and Ludovic, gladly as he would have headed such a forlorn hope,
was obliged to bow to its impracticability. The plan quickly decided on
was that he and Udo Rollmar should ride back post-haste to Waldenthor,
inform the Chancellor of what had happened, and return with a force
sufficient to overcome and compel Count Irromar to surrender. Meanwhile
the men already there would remain on the watch under the command of
Ompertz.
No sooner was this plan settled, than the two, taking the freshest
of the horses, started off on their long ride. Tedious as it was,
especially to Ludovic’s impatience, the journey was by a much shorter
route than that by which he had come. When once, after a couple of
leagues’ rough riding, they gained the high road the way was smooth
and direct enough. There was no comparison between their galloping
progress and that of the heavy jolting coach in which the ill-fated
elopement had been made. The day was yet young when the two drew bridle
before the Chancellerie at Waldenthor, and Udo, ushering his companion
into a salon, went to announce to his father the strange result of his
quest.
Ludovic had taken, insensible of fatigue, but a few turns of the
apartment in his restless impatience, when the Chancellor came in.
Rollmar’s greeting manner was a study, a curious blending of
half-doubting deference and slightly contemptuous protest. But his keen
scrutiny of the young man, a revising, as it were, under transformed
circumstances, of a previous observation and opinion, seemed to satisfy
him. His first words, as he bowed, lower than to an equal, yet not so
profoundly as to an assured sovereign, were characteristic.
“And I, Adrian Rollmar, never even suspected it.”
There was a slightly self-reproachful smile on his thin lips as he
motioned Ludovic to a seat and stood before him, keenly revolving this
unexpected phase of the situation.
“You have heard, Baron, about the Princess?” Ludovic asked rapidly.
Rollmar bowed assent. “A pretty pass your Highness has brought your
romance to.”
He seemed not to care to ask or require any personal confirmation of
the news of Ludovic’s identity; he was shrewd and skilful enough to
see that the man before him was undoubtedly royal, although, owing,
perhaps, to his keenness having been diverted to another scent, what
seemed now so obvious had previously escaped his notice. His remark had
a touch of humour which softened its reproach.
“No one,” Ludovic replied, “naturally can regret this unlooked-for
turn more terribly than I. The matter now is to rescue the Princess,
and without a moment’s unnecessary delay.”
To his impatience, Rollmar’s deliberation was provoking. “Ah!
Unfortunately, as we hear, sire, you are not in a position to effect
the rescue yourself.”
For the moment Ludovic did not take his meaning. “By myself? Assuredly
not. You must know this Count Irromar and his stronghold, Baron. It
will require a considerable force to bring him to capitulate.”
Rollmar nodded agreement. “Which your Highness cannot provide.”
“From Beroldstein? No.” Ludovic replied, a little awkwardly. “I fear I
have trouble there to face.”
“Ah!” The Chancellor’s ejaculation was expressive, inscrutably so, in
the suggestion of busy thought lying behind it “You would have done
better, sire, to have looked after your crown, and left your love
affair in my hands.”
“Better, perhaps, for my crown,” the Prince returned, with as much of
a smile as his anxiety would permit. “But, with all deference to your
skill, Baron, not so well in the other matter.”
“At least,” the Chancellor rejoined, “the present situation would have
been avoided.”
“One can hardly hope to fight against chance,” Ludovic said, somewhat
impatiently; “of that I have been the sport lately. My uncle’s fatal
accident, my cousin’s usurpation, and our stumbling into Count
Irromar’s den, were hardly to be anticipated. But if fate has led me
into these hard knocks, it has in other respects marvellously stood my
friend, even--” he smiled--“against you, Baron.”
Rollmar returned the smile a little dubiously. “Under pardon, sire,
your luck can scarcely be said to justify your madness. Romance is,
no doubt, a pretty plaything, but too gimcrack for the stern game of
state-craft. I am an old man, sire, and you a very young one; let me
tell you in confidence from my experience that the greater part of my
forty years’ work has been correcting the mistakes and combating the
absurdities of those whom I have served. Happily--for I am tired of
it--it does not fall to me to help you to regain what you have lost.”
Ludovic rose impatiently. “But it is just for that, Baron, I have
ridden here post-haste through the night.”
“To help you----?” The old minister looked uncompromisingly aghast.
“Yes,” Ludovic exclaimed impetuously, “to rescue the Princess. While we
are talking here----”
Rollmar’s expression had changed into a grim smile. “The romantic still
uppermost,” he said, his contemptuous amusement getting the better of
his deference. “I thought you referred to the recovery of your kingdom.”
“What is that to me while Ruperta is perhaps in deadly peril, or worse?”
“Ah, true.” The old man’s coolness and deliberation were exasperating.
“That is my business, and you may trust me to set about it without
delay.”
“I might be excused for doubting your promptness, Baron.”
“_Festina lente._ But I am not insensible of the criticalness of the
Princess’s position. An armed detachment is already under orders, and I
myself start for the Schloss Teufelswald within the hour.”
“You, Baron?” Ludovic started in surprise.
“Even I,” Rollmar answered quietly. “This precious Count Irromar, whom
you have stumbled upon, is well known to me, at least by reputation,
and is no ordinary man. He unites in himself, as your Highness may have
discovered, the cunning of the serpent with the ferocity of the wolf.
Our troops may oppose the latter quality; it is to meet the former that
I propose to myself a disagreeable journey.”
“Then,” said Ludovic, “we travel together.”
“So far,” Rollmar replied, a little stiffly, “as the road to
Beroldstein is the way to Schloss Teufelswald.”
Ludovic paused in his quick stride towards the door, and stared at him.
“Naturally, Baron, I go with you to the Schloss Teufelswald.”
Rollmar pursed his lips, as he remained standing by the fireplace.
“I would advise you, sire, to let the settlement of your position at
Beroldstein be your first care.”
“You would, Baron?”
“Unless, that is, you are inclined, as is hardly likely, to a man of
your spirit, to let things be as they are.”
Ludovic flushed hotly. “I give up my crown to Ferdinand, or to any
other man? Surely, Baron, either I misunderstand you, or you are
joking.”
“Far from joking, sire. I was only thinking,” he added dryly, “of the
trouble such a course would save.”
“None of my seeking,” Ludovic returned. “Either I am the rightful King
of Drax-Beroldstein, or I am not.”
“_Les absents_,” said the Baron calmly, “_ont toujours tort_.”
This was more than Ludovic could endure. “Enough!” he exclaimed
impatiently. “I will not discuss the point with you. Now, let us start
for Teufelswald without further delay.”
Rollmar eyed him curiously. “I am ready. But for your Majesty it would
be best to go first to Beroldstein.”
Ludovic walked up to him. “What do you mean, Baron?” he demanded.
The Chancellor gave a shrug. “Simply that you may with confidence leave
the rescue of the Princess in our hands.”
“Indeed!” Ludovic retorted. “And what, think you, would her opinion be
of the man who, having brought her into this strait, rode away and left
her deliverance to others?”
Rollmar smiled, masking, obviously, his underlying intent. “Women are
unreasonable. It need matter little to our Princess, once she is
free, by whose agency her liberty is gained. More. Perhaps, all things
considered, it would be as well that you should not appear as her
deliverer.”
“Why not, pray?” Ludovic demanded warmly, as an inkling of the other’s
drift dawned upon him.
Rollmar met him with steady eyes. “If the romance is to come to an end,
the sooner it is over the better.”
The meaning was plain now. “True,” Ludovic returned, with the restraint
of a settled determination. “But the romance will end only with our
deaths.”
Rollmar seemed to accept the words as a challenge. His still
deferential manner was in curious contrast to the dictatorial purport
of his speech. But then his daily interviews with his master had made
the blending of the two quite natural.
“Speaking in the name of my master, Duke Theodor,” he said, “the
question of the alliance between Princess Ruperta and yourself is a
closed one. It was naturally and necessarily contingent on certain
events and circumstances. With the romance of your love affair I
have no concern, except to express a passing regret that it should
have indirectly upset a promising intention. But your Majesty will
understand that, from his Highness Duke Theodor’s point of view, the
proposed alliance of our Princess was not with Ludwig Hassenburg, but
with Ludwig, King, or at least Heir Apparent of Drax-Beroldstein.”
So the meaning was at last clear with a vengeance. The fierce old eyes
left no doubt as to will behind the intent. In Ludovic the impetuosity
of youth was tempered by a certain natural shrewdness and inculcated
tact. He had been brought up to govern, and an important part of his
teaching had been, as it should be of all rulers, to know how to meet a
dangerous opposition by a graceful show of yielding.
After all, the Chancellor’s line of policy, now so bluntly indicated,
was only what might have been expected of him. He had never pretended
that the projected match was more than a matter of state expediency: as
for love in it, he had clearly shown that such a point never troubled
him. The wolf and the serpent, he had said. Yes; there was no use,
especially in Ludovic’s present helpless position, in opposing force,
which he had not, or even spirit, which he had, to cunning. So he bowed
before the expression of the old statesman’s plain-spoken intent.
“I can well understand that, Baron,” he replied, masking the resentment
in his heart. “Were I so simple as to expect you to forego your policy
for a mere matter of romance I should confess to a poor knowledge of
the world and an incompetence to govern my little share of it. But
if you think for a moment that I have given up my crown, you make a
strange mistake. You cannot think that. Could I be capable of so weak
an act of renunciation, were I so ready to bow before circumstances,
I should indeed be unworthy of so noble, so high-spirited a girl
as Princess Ruperta. No, I mean to assert my rights without delay,
and have little fear, that, when once I have raised my standard in
Beroldstein, my cousin Ferdinand will be able to stand against me.”
Rollmar’s face was not an easy one to read, but if at that moment it
gave any clue to his thoughts, it indicated that he was of a different
opinion. But he did not say so. His purpose was to marry the Princess
to the King of Drax-Beroldstein, when once it was quite settled which
of the cousins wore the crown firmly on his head. That issue they might
fight out between themselves, and welcome. As to the result he was
cynically indifferent.
“Very well, sire,” he said calmly, “your spirit is admirable and
deserves success. As a sensible man you will hardly blame my master
if he, before giving his daughter’s hand, waits for the interesting
result. Now, it is time I was on my way.”
With a reverence, he motioned his guest towards the door.
“You will at least let me bear you company, Baron?” Ludovic asked. “Our
ways lie together, and I shall not rest until I know the Princess is
safe.”
“I shall be honoured,” Rollmar answered. “If your Majesty will take
some refreshment, while I speak a parting word with the Duke.”
Rollmar was all suavity when he rejoined Ludovic; and, at the head of
some four-score men, they set out at a smart pace for Teufelswald.