INSIDE THE CASTLE WALLS
Bright and early the next morning the party was ready for the last of
the journey to Edelweiss. Less than twenty miles separated Ganlook from
the capital, and the road was in excellent condition. Beverly Calhoun,
tired and contented, had slept soundly until aroused by the princess
herself. Their rooms adjoined each other, and when Yetive, shortly after
daybreak, stole into the American girl's chamber, Beverly was sleeping
so sweetly that the intruder would have retreated had it not been for
the boisterous shouts of stable-boys in the courtyard below the
windows. She hurried to a window and looked out upon the gray-cloaked
morning. Postillions and stable-boys were congregated near the gates,
tormenting a ragged old man who stood with his back against one of the
huge posts. In some curiosity, she called Beverly from her slumbers,
urging the sleepy one to hasten to the window.
"Is this one of your friends from the wilderness?" she asked.
"It's Franz!" cried Beverly, rubbing her pretty eyes. Then she became
thoroughly awake. "What are they doing to him? Who are those ruffians?"
she demanded indignantly.
"They are my servants, and--"
"Shame on them! The wretches! What has old Franz done that they
should--Call to them! Tell 'em you'll cut their heads off if they don't
stop. He's a dear old fellow in spite of his rags, and he--"
The window-sash flew open and the tormentors in the court below were
astonished by the sound of a woman's voice, coming, as it were, from the
clouds. A dozen pairs of eyes were turned upward; the commotion ended
suddenly. In the window above stood two graceful, white-robed
figures. The sun, still far below the ridge of mountains, had not yet
robbed the morning of the gray, dewy shadows that belong to five
o'clock.
"What are you doing to that poor old man?" cried Yetive, and it was the
first time any of them had seen anger in the princess's face. They slunk
back in dismay. "Let him alone! You, Gartz, see that he has food and
drink, and without delay. Report to me later on, sir, and explain, if
you can, why you have conducted yourselves in so unbecoming a manner."
Then the window was closed and the princess found herself in the warm
arms of her friend.
"I couldn't understand a word you said, Yetive? but I knew you were
giving it to them hot and heavy. Did you see how nicely old Franz bowed
to you? Goodness, his head almost touched the ground."
"He was bowing to you, Beverly. You forgot that you are the princess to
him."
"Isn't that funny? I had quite forgotten it--the poor old goose."
Later, when the coaches and escort were drawn up in front of the
Rallowitz palace ready for the start, the princess called the chief
postillion, Gartz, to the step of her coach.
"What was the meaning of the disturbance I witnessed this morning?" she
demanded.
Gartz hung his head. "We thought the man was crazy, your highness. He
had been telling us such monstrous lies," he mumbled.
"Are you sure they were lies?"
"Oh, quite sure, your highness. They were laughable. He said, for one
thing, that it was he who drove your highness's coach into Ganlook last
evening, when everybody knows that I had full charge of the coach and
horses."
"You are very much mistaken, Gartz," she said, distinctly. He blinked
his eyes.
"Your highness," he gasped, "you surely remember--"
"Enough, sir. Franz drove the princess into Ganlook last night. He says
so himself, does he not?"
"Yes, your highness," murmured poor Gartz.
"What more did he say to you?"
"He said he had come from his master, who is in the hospital, to inquire
after your health and to bear his thanks for the kindnesses you have
secured for him. He says his master is faring well and is satisfied to
remain where he is. Also, he said that his master was sending him back
into the mountains to assure his friends that he is safe and to bear a
certain message of cheer to them, sent forth by the princess. It was all
so foolish and crazy, your highness, that we could but jibe and laugh at
the poor creature."
"It is you who have been foolish, sir. Send the old man to me."
"He has gone, your highness," in frightened tones.
"So much the better," said the princess, dismissing him with a wave of
the hand. Gartz went away in a daze, and for days he took every
opportunity to look for other signs of mental disorder in the conduct of
his mistress, at the same time indulging in speculation as to his own
soundness of mind.
Ganlook's population lined the chief thoroughfare, awaiting the
departure of the princess, although the hour was early. Beverly peered
forth curiously as the coach moved off. The quaint, half-oriental
costumes of the townspeople, the odd little children, the bright colors,
the perfect love and reverence that shone in the faces of the multitude
impressed her deeply. She was never to forget that picturesque
morning. Baron Dangloss rode beside the coach until it passed through
the southern gates and into the countryside. A company of cavalrymen
acted as escort. The bright red trousers and top-boots, with the
deep-blue jackets, reminded Beverly more than ever of the operatic
figures she had seen so often at home. There was a fierce, dark cast to
the faces of these soldiers, however, that removed any suggestion of
play. The girl was in ecstasies. Everything about her appealed to the
romantic side of her nature; everything seemed so unreal and so like the
storybook. The princess smiled lovingly upon the throngs that lined the
street; there was no man among them who would not have laid down his
life for the gracious ruler.
"Oh, I love your soldiers," cried Beverly warmly.
"Poor fellows, who knows how soon they may be called upon to face death
in the Dawsbergen hills?" said Yetive, a shadow crossing her face.
Dangloss was to remain in Ganlook for several days, on guard against
manifestations by the Axphainians. A corps of spies and scouts was
working with him, and couriers were ready to ride at a moment's notice
to the castle in Edelweiss. Before they parted, Beverly extracted a
renewal of his promise to take good care of Baldos. She sent a message
to the injured man, deploring the fact that she was compelled to leave
Ganlook without seeing him as she had promised. It was her intention to
have him come to Edelweiss as soon as he was in a condition to be
removed. Captain Dangloss smiled mysteriously, but he had no comment to
make. He had received his orders and was obeying them to the letter.
"I wonder if Grenfall has heard of my harum-scarum trip to
St. Petersburg," reflected Yetive, making herself comfortable in the
coach after the gates and the multitudes were far behind.
"I'll go you a box of chocolate creams that we meet him before we get to
Edelweiss," ventured Beverly.
"Agreed," said the princess.
"Don't say 'agreed,' dear. 'Done' is the word," corrected the American
girl airily.
Beverly won. Grenfall Lorry and a small company of horsemen rode up in
furious haste long before the sun was in mid-sky. An attempt to depict
the scene between him and his venturesome wife would be a hopeless
task. The way in which his face cleared itself of distress and worry was
a joy in itself. To use his own words, he breathed freely for the first
time in hours. "The American" took the place of the officer who rode
beside the coach, and the trio kept up an eager, interesting
conversation during the next two hours.
It was a warm, sleepy day, but all signs of drowsiness disappeared with
the advent of Lorry. He had reached Edelweiss late the night before,
after a three days' ride from the conference with Dawsbergen. At first
he encountered trouble in trying to discover what had become of the
princess. Those at the castle were aware of the fact that she had
reached Ganlook safely and sought to put him off with subterfuges. He
stormed to such a degree, however, that their object failed. The result
was that he was off for Ganlook with the earliest light of day.
Regarding the conference with Prince Gabriel's representatives, he had
but little to say. The escaped murderer naturally refused to surrender
and was to all appearances quite firmly established in power once
more. Lorry's only hope was that the reversal of feeling in Dawsbergen
might work ruin for the prince. He was carrying affairs with a high
hand, dealing vengeful blows to the friends of his half-brother and
encouraging a lawlessness that sooner or later must prove his
undoing. His representatives at the conference were an arrogant,
law-defying set of men who laughed scornfully at every proposal made by
the Graustarkians.
"We told them that if he were not surrendered to our authorities inside
of sixty days we would declare war and go down and take him," concluded
"The American."
"Two months," cried Yetive. "I don't understand."
"There was method in that ultimatum. Axphain, of course, will set up a
howl, but we can forestall any action the Princess Volga may
undertake. Naturally, one might suspect that we should declare war at
once, inasmuch as he must be taken sooner or later. But here is the
point: before two months have elapsed the better element of Dawsbergen
will be so disgusted with the new dose of Gabriel that it will do
anything to avert a war on his account. We have led them to believe that
Axphain will lend moral, if not physical, support to our cause. Give
them two months in which to get over this tremendous hysteria, and
they'll find their senses. Gabriel isn't worth it, you see, and down in
their hearts they know it. They really loved young Dantan, who seems to
be a devil of a good fellow. I'll wager my head that in six weeks
they'll be wishing he were back on the throne again. And just to think
of it, Yetive, dear, you were off there in the very heart of Axphain,
risking everything," he cried, wiping the moisture from his brow.
"It is just eleven days since I left Edelweiss, and I have had a lovely
journey," she said, with one of her rare smiles. He shook his head
gravely, and she resolved in her heart never to give him another such
cause for alarm.
"And in the meantime, Mr. Grenfall Lorry, you are blaming me and hating
me and all that for being the real cause of your wife's escapade," said
Beverly Calhoun plaintively. "I'm awfully sorry. But, you must remember
one thing, sir; I did not put her up to this ridiculous trip. She did it
of her own free will and accord. Besides, I am the one who met the lion
and almost got devoured, not Yetive, if you please."
"I'll punish you by turning you over to old Count Marlanx, the commander
of the army in Graustark," said Lorry, laughingly. "He's a terrible
ogre, worse than any lion."
"Heaven pity you, Beverly, if you fall into his clutches," cried
Yetive. "He has had five wives and survives to look for a sixth. You see
how terrible it would be."
"I'm not afraid of him," boasted Beverly, but there came a time when she
thought of those words with a shudder.
"By the way, Yetive, I have had word from Harry Anguish. He and the
countess will leave Paris this week, if the baby's willing, and will be
in Edelweiss soon. You don't know how it relieves me to know that Harry
will be with us at this time."
Yetive's eyes answered his enthusiasm. Both had a warm and grateful
memory of the loyal service which the young American had rendered his
friend when they had first come to Graustark in quest of the princess;
and both had a great regard for his wife, the Countess Dagmar, who, as
Yetive's lady in waiting, had been through all the perils of those
exciting days with them.
As they drew near the gates of Edelweiss, a large body of horsemen rode
forth to meet them. The afternoon was well on the way to night, and the
air of the valley was cool and refreshing, despite the rays of the June
sun.
"Edelweiss at last," murmured Beverly, her face aglow. "The heart of
Graustark. Do you know that I have been brushing up on my grammar? I
have learned the meaning of the word 'Graustark,' and it seems so
appropriate. _Grau_ is gray, hoary, old; _stark_ is
strong. Old and strong--isn't it, dear?"
"And here rides the oldest and strongest man in all Graustark--the Iron
Count of Marlanx," said Yetive, looking down the road. "See--the strange
gray man in front there is our greatest general, our craftiest fighter,
our most heartless warrior. Does he not look like the eagle or the
hawk?"
A moment later the parties met, and the newcomers swung into line with
the escort. Two men rode up to the carriage and saluted. One was Count
Marlanx, the other Colonel Quinnox, of the Royal Guard. The count, lean
and gray as a wolf, revealed rows of huge white teeth in his perfunctory
smile of welcome, while young Quinnox's face fairly beamed with honest
joy. In the post that he held, he was but following in the footsteps of
his forefathers. Since history began in Graustark, a Quinnox had been in
charge of the castle guard.
The "Iron Count," as he sometimes was called, was past his sixtieth
year. For twenty years he had been in command of the army. One had but
to look at his strong, sardonic face to know that he was a fearless
leader, a savage fighter. His eyes were black, piercing and never quiet;
his hair and close-cropped beard were almost snow-white; his voice was
heavy and without a vestige of warmth. Since her babyhood Yetive had
stood in awe of this grim old warrior. It was no uncommon thing for
mothers to subdue disobedient children with the threat to give them over
to the "Iron Count." "Old Marlanx will get you if you're not good," was
a household phrase in Edelweiss. He had been married five times and as
many times had he been left a widower. If he were disconsolate in any
instance, no one had been able to discover the fact. Enormously rich, as
riches go in Graustark, he had found young women for his wives who
thought only of his gold and his lands in the trade they made with
Cupid. It was said that without exception they died happy. Death was a
joy. The fortress overlooking the valley to the south was no more rugged
and unyielding than the man who made his home within its walls. He lived
there from choice and it was with his own money that he fitted up the
commandant's quarters in truly regal style. Power was more to him than
wealth, though he enjoyed both.
Colonel Quinnox brought news from the castle. Yetive's uncle and aunt,
the Count and Countess Halfont, were eagerly expecting her return, and
the city was preparing to manifest its joy in the most exuberant
fashion. As they drew up to the gates the shouts of the people came to
the ears of the travelers. Then the boom of cannon and the blare of
bands broke upon the air, thrilling Beverly to the heart. She wondered
how Yetive could be so calm and unmoved in the face of all this homage.
Past the great Hotel Regengetz and the Tower moved the gay procession,
into the broad stretch of boulevard that led to the gates of the palace
grounds. The gates stood wide open and inviting. Inside was Jacob
Fraasch, the chief steward of the grounds, with his men drawn up in
line; upon the walls the sentries came to parade rest; on the plaza the
Royal band was playing as though by inspiration. Then the gates closed
behind the coach and escort, and Beverly Calhoun was safe inside the
castle walls. The "Iron Count" handed her from the carriage at the
portals of the palace, and she stood as one in a dream.