"A SURPRISE"
Onward they tramped in silence down the road towards the lower town,
and as they went the half-moon pushed its gleaming disc through the
melting curtain of cloud, and made of the night a frozen picture of
fantastic beauty. To their right the snows of the Trau-altar and
Eizenzahn streamed in silver floods towards the glistening plain,
where, a full thousand feet below, the village of Riefinsdorf
proclaimed itself with cheerful points of golden light.
The sounds of revelry grew distant, and the silence of the sleeping
hills made itself felt. It was a prospect of unreal beauty, a
duo-tone of violet-black and fairy silver, an impression of eerie
shadows and unearthly light.
Saunders and his wife walked hand in hand. The day had brought them
very close together, and they were well content. Soon a shuffling
sound was heard, and a turn of the road disclosed a body of troops on
skis ascending the hill from the opposite direction. The King's
party halted in the middle of the way, and Meyer accosted the officer
at their head.
"Who are you, sir?" he asked.
"Fifteenth Light Infantry," was the reply. "I am Captain Lexa, and
we are returning from pursuing the enemy, according to orders."
Meyer cast his eye over the officer's command. There seemed about a
hundred and fifty to two hundred riflemen, of whom a good score bore
tokens of recent fighting. A few serious cases were covered with
rugs, and were being pulled on small sleighs. A further inspection
disclosed a number of prisoners in the centre, with hands roped
behind their backs.
"You got into touch, I see," Meyer pursued.
"We pressed them closely," answered the Captain, "and at first so
eager was their retreat that they abandoned all their guns one after
another. Further away they rallied, and though they continued to
retreat, they easily held us at bay, and went off at their own pace."
"Do you think they mean coming back?" asked Karl.
"No, sire. When we got orders to return they were six or seven
kilometres beyond Riefinsdorf; and though we waited and watched them
for at least half an hour, they continued to increase the distance,
till they were lost to sight in the gloom and the snow."
"They're not the right stuff, those Weidenbruckers," said Von
Bilderbaum. "They can only play a winning game. I don't think we
shall see their faces again this winter."
"But what of Von Hügelweiler?" demanded Meyer. "He was in command of
the pursuit. Has he been hit by the enemy?"
"No, sir."
"Then why in heaven's name does he not return with you?" persisted
the Commander-in-Chief. "Has he been loyal for long enough to one
side? Or does he, like Cato, prefer to espouse the losing side?"
Captain Lexa hesitated.
"I think he was mad," he said at length. "When your _aide_ brought
the order of recall, Captain Hügelweiler swore that he had been sent
to pursue and would continue to pursue as long as his legs carried
his body, and his arms a rifle. The _aide_ backed his orders with
the King's name, but Hügelweiler harangued his men and bade all such
as loved the good game of war follow him to the bitter end. An
impossible position was created, and the _aide-de-camp_ ordered Von
Hügelweiler's arrest. Before, however, the order could be put into
execution, the mutinous captain was ski-ing down a steep snow slope
in the direction of the enemy."
"You should have fired on him," said Bilderbaum.
"I gave the order, sir, but the men hesitated. Some of them had
served with him earlier in the day, when he had displayed the most
reckless courage. Besides, his refusal to halt, seeming rather an
excess of gallantry than an act of mutiny, touched their imagination,
and the few shots that rang out left him unscathed. Then the
_aide-de-camp_, losing his patience, snatched a rifle from one of my
units, knelt down in the snow, and brought down the Captain with a
well-directed shot."
"And was he killed?" asked Saunders not unfeelingly.
"I think so. If not, he is dead by now, for he was badly hit, and
the frost does not spare a man when he is bleeding from an open
wound."
"Captain Lexa," said Karl, "you seem a capable and zealous officer,
but your task is not over yet. It may be,--as you and General von
Bilderbaum think,--that the Weidenbruckers have had enough hammering
for a season, and have no intention of returning. But Meyer thinks
otherwise, nor am I one to leave matters to chance. Bernhardt is a
madman who is not subject to the ordinary influences of disaster.
His lieutenant, Trafford, is a man of exceptional ability and
resource. They are not likely, in my opinion, to acquiesce in a
discredited return to the capital."
"They cannot be back at Weissheim for some hours yet, sire," said the
Captain.
"I know. But our men are debauched with victory. They are out of
hand. They have done their day's work, and they want to enjoy the
price of their labours. You, Captain, seem a sober, honest soldier
with a firm hold over your command. Can I trust you,--when you have
rested your men and seen to their rations,--to return in an hour's
time to Redoubt A to watch with us against a surprise attack from our
enemies?"
"You may trust me to the death, sire," said the young officer with
emotion, "and for every man of my command whom I fail to bring to the
redoubt I will forfeit a year's promotion."
"Well spoken, Captain Lexa," said Karl with a smile. "While there
are men like you in my army I can never despair of my fortunes."
The King and his little party stood at the edge of the road while the
regiment resumed its upward progress. Lithe, sunburned men, untired
by the long day's work, they glided swiftly by, one and all saluting
as they passed the royal presence, and ultimately breaking into a
shrill cheer as they vanished up the zig-zagging road.
"Thank God for brave men!" said Karl simply, when they had gone.
"We shall not need our friends here after all," said Saunders,
referring to the quartet they had enticed from the festive bonfire.
"Aye," said the man with the beard. "You may want us yet. They are
gallant fellows, those soldier lads, but they will be tempted up
yonder, and the true Grimlander ever meets temptation half way."
"They will not fail me," said Karl, whose optimism seemed to have
returned in full force. "My fortunes have turned, and I have no
fears of their staunchness."
"Still it would be prudent to take these gentlemen with us," said
Meyer. "Lexa and his men may be late, and there will be plenty for
them to do."
"Oh, we are coming," pursued the bearded man. "I, too, believe
Bernhardt means returning, and I would give ten years of my life to
put a bullet through his wicked skull. As for the Princess Gloria, I
would not spare that wanton little----"
"Hush, man!" interrupted Karl. "The Princess is a relative of mine."
"Aye, and one to be proud of!" went on the man defiantly. "They say
that she and the American Trafford----"
"Never mind what they say," said Karl sternly. "The Princess is a
wild, irresponsible girl, but she is as free from grossness as the
snows of the Eizenzahn."
"They say----"
"Silence!" thundered Karl passionately, raising an arm as if to
strike the speaker across the mouth. "I have known her since she was
a tiny child, and though she has rebel blood in her veins, she is as
clean and wholesome as a Weissheim night."
"Your Majesty is generous," said Von Bilderbaum.
"Maybe," assented Karl, "but I think we all share the same fault
where the Princess Irresponsible is concerned. I, who have seen her
grow from a beautiful child into a lovely woman, have still a soft
corner in my heart for her; even when her schemings were most
alarmingly successful I could never summon hate to my aid in my
battle against her. And to-night, when fortune smiles upon me, I
could wish to take her small hand in mine and read her a lesson on
the iniquity of trying to dethrone one's first cousin once removed."
"Your Majesty is sentimental," said Meyer.
"It is natural to be so on such a night as this," was the King's
reply. "This still, deep cold should freeze the cynicism even out of
your nature. If the Princess fights she must be fought, and she must
accept the fortune of war. But when this half-tipsy ruffian casts
aspersions on her purity----"
"Hear, hear!" broke in the man in the green ulster. "Shoot the
Princess if necessary, but spare her good name. I, in my humble way,
am a great admirer of the pretty little Gloria. She has an eye that
laughs, and as sweet a pair of lips as a poor carpenter like me may
dare clap eyes upon. The devil I want to harry is the American
Trafford, who mixes up with matters that don't concern him, and
brings fire and sword into a poor country that has plenty of troubles
already. We've vermin of our own, goodness knows, but this foreign
weasel----"
But Karl was in a mood to hear ill of no man. He was convinced,--as
he said,--that his fortunes had turned. His natural generosity was
in the ascendant, and the magic of the glorious night had won him to
a temper of broad benevolence.
"Oh, Trafford," he laughed, "Providence watches over men like that.
They take risks and thrive on them. The bullet is not moulded that
will pierce his tough American skin; and I rejoice to think it is so,
for he is a most fascinating free lance. He saved me from death in
the courtyard of the Neptunburg, and I have not forgotten the debt.
Given a state of peace, and I would have him as my guest in the
Brunvarad to discuss old battles over my best Tokay."
They had reached the place where the bob-sleigh track crossed the
highway,--a point of the run much dreaded by the steersmen of racing
crews.
"If we follow the path that borders the run," said the bearded man,
"we shall save a quarter of a mile at least."
"That's true," said Meyer, "but the ladies must be careful where they
plant their feet. If they step off the beaten track they will be up
to their waists in soft snow."
"There is a moon," said the man in the ulster curtly, climbing over
the snow bank and leading the way along the firm but narrow track.
The others followed in single file, and for a time nothing was heard
but the crunching of snow beneath their feet. For a space their
progress lay among pine-trees, through whose black trunks and
freshly-silvered branches the moonlight streamed in rays of elfish
light. With its mysterious shadows and sharp silences the wood
seemed a vast natural treasure house, wherein the frost jewels
gleamed with rich profusion and the strange radiance of an enchanted
dreamland. To walk with open eyes in such scenes was to lose touch
with reality, to forget the sway and swirl of things material, the
harsh absurdities of Grimland's civic strife. No wonder a silence
fell on the pacing line.
The awakening was rude. As they emerged from the many pillared
sanctuary of the forest there was a loud cry of "Now!" Someone, a
man in a woollen helmet, threw a cloak around Karl's head and
shoulders; someone, a man with a thick beard, struck Saunders heavily
in the face, so that he fell back from the firm path into the
yielding depth of the untrodden snow. At the same moment Von
Bilderbaum, hastening to the King's rescue, was tripped up by the man
in the green ulster, and measured his length violently on the hard
path. Meyer, quick as thought, whipped out a revolver and fired
point blank between the shoulders of Bilderbaum's assailant. Frau
von Bilderbaum screamed, and in her emotion stepped off the firm path
and disappeared backwards into a sea of incohesive crystals. Before
Meyer had time to fire again a man was at his throat, a man with a
beard hanging grotesquely from one ear, a man with mad passion in his
eye and a nameless oath on his lips.
"Bernhardt!" gasped Meyer, fighting with the frenzy of a
terror-stricken man. His assailant was his superior in weight and
vigour, but fortunately for the Commander-in-Chief had but the use of
one arm. Nevertheless, the arm that fought him was a limb of steel,
the fingers of the sound member as relentless as the tentacles of a
devil fish. The Jew sweated and struggled like a man in a nightmare.
For a moment, choked and breathless, he was overborne; then relief
came. Bilderbaum had regained his feet; the old soldier's sword was
drawn from its scabbard, and the ex-priest hissed his last shuddering
blasphemy into the night air.
"Robert, Robert, are you hurt?" asked Mrs. Saunders, in dire
distress, of her struggling spouse, who was making heroic efforts to
wade through the waist-deep snow to the _terra firma_ of the trodden
path.
"Karl--quick!" urged the breathless Englishman, at length making his
voice heard now that the struggle was terminated.
They looked where Karl had been--and there was no one. The man in
the woollen helmet, too, had disappeared, and the short individual in
the private's uniform was likewise nowhere to be seen.
"A bob-sleigh,"--explained Saunders, still short of breath, regaining
with assistance the coveted foothold of the path,--"they pushed him
on to a bob-sleigh which was anchored to the bough of a fir-tree.
The little soldier man took the helm, and the other sat guarding the
King with a revolver in one hand and the brake-lever in the other."
"After them!" cried old Bilderbaum excitedly, letting go his wife's
hand so that she relapsed again into the treacherous quagmire of
mocking powder. "After them!"
"After them!" repeated Meyer scornfully, rubbing his bruised throat.
"We might do an heroic eight miles an hour down this slippery path.
_They_ will be going forty, at least. We might as well chase the
moonbeams!"
"What are we to do?" asked Saunders desperately.
"That is a question that fools always ask themselves when their folly
finds them out," returned Meyer bitterly. "Unfortunately there is no
answer to it."