A ROYAL MADMAN
THE Regent Hermengarde sat in her former apartments giving audience
to Karl Fink. She had not transferred herself to the royal suite, as
Maximilian still occupied it, under the guardianship of Dr. Krauss
and Karl himself, pending her decision as to his future place of
confinement.
The demeanour of the attendant showed that his communication to the
Princess had been of the gravest nature. His mistress, however,
maintained her customary frigid calmness.
“You were perfectly right to acquaint me with this,” she was saying,
“but on no account must you mention it to any one else, not even
to the physician. At the same time it is only what might have been
anticipated. The late King’s fate is an instance. Perhaps it is truer
mercy to the unhappy young man to wish that he might find some such
release from his wretched state. At all events I shall not attach the
least blame to you if the worst should happen. It will be my care to
find you another post where your merits will be rewarded.”
Karl bowed, with a shudder which he was unable to conceal from the
searching eyes of the Princess, and silently withdrew.
Hermengarde gave a deep breath and looked as if some care had been
removed from her mind. Then she turned to a private writing-table and
proceeded slowly to compose a letter to the Kaiser.
Several days had elapsed since the overthrow of the King. During
this time she had been busily employed. In the course of some of her
numerous interviews with the Count von Sigismark, he had presumed to
refer in guarded terms to the coming betrothal between Prince Ernest
and his daughter. Hermengarde, however, had met these allusions
by insisting on the impropriety of pressing on the affair while
Maximilian’s misfortune was still fresh in the public mind, and the
Chancellor had appeared satisfied. Neither of them had ventured
into the presence of their victim since his deposition from power.
Hermengarde received daily reports as to his condition from Karl, and
the Chancellor from Dr. Krauss. The Privy Councillors had not yet left
the Castle.
But there was one thing of which Karl had failed to inform his dreaded
mistress.
That very morning, as he was strolling by himself in a lonely part
of those beautiful grounds in which Maximilian had looked forward to
enjoying so much happiness, a figure suddenly glided out from behind a
tree, and stood before him. It was Johann.
The ex-conspirator had succeeded in evading the numerous sentries,
and, making his way into the valley by night, over the mountains, had
been lurking in the neighbourhood till he could obtain an opportunity
of accosting Karl alone. Ignorant of his recent expulsion from the
secret society, Karl still dreaded him one degree more than the
Princess, and dared not refuse his demand to be privately admitted to
the presence of the imprisoned King.
As soon as night had fallen he let in Johann by a secret postern which
had been designed by Maximilian for his own use, and ushered him with
every precaution into the royal cabinet.
The sight of the change which had passed over the young man whom he
had last seen in the pride of health and beauty, the cynosure of an
attentive Court, struck Johann to the heart. He rushed forward and fell
on his knees for the first time before the discrowned monarch.
“My King! My royal master! Look at me; it is I, your faithful Johann
Mark.”
Maximilian thrust aside a mass of grey tangled locks, and turned a dull
gaze upon the man whose voice had reached his ears.
“Ah!” he said, “it is you. I wondered where you were. Go to my aunt,
the Princess Regent; she will take you into her favour like the rest.”
“No, no, Sire, do not speak to me like that. Do not think me a traitor.
I have been away trying to organise a rising in your favour, but now I
have come back to rescue you.”
“Fool, fool, I say,” answered Maximilian. “I have no rewards to give
you. Why should you be more stupid than the others? They were wise
enough to leave me--Von Sigismark, Auguste, Karl, all of them have
gone. Why should you stay here?”
Johann struggled to maintain his composure.
“Your Majesty breaks my heart when you say such things. Can you not
believe in me? I have come here by stealth, I know a secret path over
the mountain by which we may escape together. Disguise yourself and
come with me, and we will make our way to some distant land where your
enemies cannot reach you.”
The King gravely shook his head.
“No, you do not understand. Have they not told you? I am mad. Where can
a madman find refuge? I am better here--here among my faithful friends.”
Johann rose to his feet, his eyes flashing indignantly.
“I do not believe it, Sire! You are not mad, or if you are, then so am
I too, and I will share your fate.”
Maximilian also rose, and touched Johann with his finger, as if to
assure himself that he was there in flesh and blood. Then he smiled
mirthlessly.
“Why, no, my friend, you are right, I am not really mad. But you
see that they all think so. The Chancellor thinks so, and so does
Auguste--he was my greatest friend, you know, and I could not expect
strangers to think better of me than he does. He was a great musician.
Did you ever hear his opera, _The Vikings_?”
Johann did not know how to answer. His breast heaved with painful
emotion. Maximilian thrust an arm through his, in the old familiar way,
and led him to the window. The chamber was situated on the side of the
Castle which overlooked the lake, and the dark waters, glittering with
reflected stars, rolled up to the very foot of the wall.
“Look,” said the King, in a tone of restrained exultation. “There is my
refuge. I can escape when I like, you see.”
“But there is no boat there,” said Johann, trying to give the best
meaning to his master’s words.
“I do not want a boat, Johann,” was the reply. “They would see me if I
escaped from them in a boat, and follow after and bring me back again.
When I escape it will be by a way so secret that all their spies will
not be able to track me, and all their guards will not be able to bring
me back.”
A long silence followed. Johann began to try and form some fresh
plan by which to aid his unhappy master. Presently the King’s manner
changed, his form seemed to collapse, he withdrew his arm and crept
back to the chair on which he had been sitting before.
Johann followed him respectfully.
“Is there anything I can do for your Majesty to-night before I leave
you for a short time?” he asked.
“I want to see my cousin Ernest,” was the response, muttered in sullen
tones. “They will not let me see Ernest, though he is my heir.”
“Your wishes shall be obeyed, Sire. I will have Prince Ernest sent
here.”
He passed out into the ante-room, where Karl was waiting anxiously.
The physician had gone elsewhere for a time, and Karl was in solitary
control.
“Go at once to Prince Ernest, and bring him here. The King wants to see
him,” commanded Johann.
Karl knew the character of the man he had to deal with too well to
attempt excuses. All he ventured to say was--
“It will be difficult to manage, and I may be some time. Who will guard
the King?”
“I will. I will stay here till you return, and as soon as you have
brought the Prince, you shall let me out by the way I came in.”
Before going on his errand Karl ventured a question.
“What do you think of his Majesty’s condition?”
“That is a subject which I will not discuss with you. Do what I tell
you, or--”
The traitor did not wait to hear anything further, but hurried off.
In half an hour he returned conducting the young Prince, who appeared
thoroughly frightened.
“Do not be afraid,” said Johann kindly to the lad. “The King wishes to
say something to you, that is all. You will find him very gentle, but
he is unhappy. Try to soothe him.”
With these words he pushed the Prince inside, and followed Karl to the
private outlet.
As soon as Ernest found himself in his cousin’s presence, he uttered a
cry of astonishment.
Maximilian had employed the half-hour which had just elapsed in
attiring himself in the complete trappings of his royal station. He had
put on the ermine robe, thrown the collar of the Golden Fleece around
his shoulders, girded on the sword of State, and grasped the golden
sceptre in his hand. In this pomp he received his young kinsman.
Overawed by this extraordinary display, the Prince was about to fall
on one knee before his cousin, as he had been accustomed to do on
occasions of great ceremony. Maximilian checked him.
“Do not pay homage to me, Ernest,” he said sadly. “No one does that
now. I shall not be King much longer. I have sent for you to tell
you that. You are my heir, and when I am gone you will wear these
ornaments, and sit on the throne of Franconia.”
“Oh, Cousin Max! I cannot bear it!” And the poor boy began to weep.
“You need not cry, Ernest. You cannot help me. You have not plotted
against me, and bribed my friends and servants. You have not spent the
moments when my head lay on your breast in calculating how to betray
me. You have not watched me from day to day, for something which you
might seize upon to carry to my enemies as a symptom of insanity. If
you gave me food I should not spit it out again in secret, for fear it
might be poisoned!”
The boy’s eyes grew large with horror.
“What do you mean? Poison!” he cried.
“Yes; but have no fear, they will not poison you. But when you are
King, Ernest, do not forget your people. That is a crime for which
you will deserve to be punished as I am. Rule them, Ernest, but rule
them yourself; let no Ministers come between you and them, and usurp
your power from you. Govern them justly but kindly; if they make
complaints, listen to them; if they have just grievances, redress them.
Let no wrong be done with impunity in any corner of the land. Trust
no reports from others; see with your own eyes and hear with your own
ears. Remember that you are but the first of servants after all. Try to
make your people happier; do not be content with mere submission, do
not wait till discontent grows dangerous. Study their problems, find
out their needs beforehand. Above all, love them, Ernest, and they
will love you, and no traitors will ever dare to conspire against your
throne, and tear your crown from you like this.”
He wrenched the diadem roughly from his head and made as if to cast it
on the floor. But a new impulse suddenly coming to sway his mind, he
strode up to where his young cousin stood trembling and speechless.
“Take it, it is yours. See, I crown you, Ernest V. of Franconia!”
And he thrust the circlet forcibly down upon the lad’s brow.
“No! No! Take it away!” cried Ernest, wildly. “It hurts me.”
“Why, so it should,” returned Maximilian, grimly. “Did you think crowns
were pleasant things to wear? It will hurt you more presently, Ernest,
it will grow red-hot, and sear a mark upon your forehead that will
never wear away.”
“You frighten me! I do not know what all this means. I feel something
inside me, as if my head would burst.”
“Why, there again, that is one of the symptoms, Ernest. You are an
Astolf, too, poor child, your mother forgets that. But you must have
these other things as well. The crown is not enough.”
And with the excitement mounting in his brain, the King tore off collar
and robe and sword-belt, and thrust them almost by force upon the
resisting boy. He finished by placing the sceptre in his hand, and then
knelt down upon one knee before him.
“Hail, your Majesty! Now go and show your subjects their new King!”
“Max, Cousin Max, I feel ill; something is the matter in my head. Am I
going mad?”
“Mad? Why not, Ernest? We are all mad, we Astolfs. It is in the blood.
We inherit it with our kingdom. My father died mad, so did yours. What
matter; they have not found you out yet, as they did me. Hide it,
Ernest, be cunning, cringe to that old fox Von Sigismark, marry his
vain daughter, and he will never pull you down.”
The boy gave a wild laugh.
“Gertrude! I hate her! They shall never make me marry her. I would
rather go mad than do that.”
Maximilian laughed too, and clapped his hands.
“It works, it works!” he cried frantically. “The poison in the crown
works, I knew it would!”
Suddenly the wildness left him, he crouched down shuddering, and raised
a finger to his lips.
“Hush! I hear some one. It is the doctor. Be careful; we must try and
deceive him.” And he shrank down again in his seat.
The door was opened, and Dr. Krauss came in. He glanced round, and his
eyes fell upon the young Prince in his strange masquerade.
He turned sternly to the King.
“What do you mean by this, Sire? These things must be taken from
you if you play such tricks. Be good enough to take them off, your
Royal Highness,” he added, speaking to Ernest, “and come back to your
apartments.”
And after helping the dazed lad to rid himself of the royal insignia,
he took him by the hand and led him out.
The King walked towards the window.