TRUXTON ON PARADE
Count Marlanx was a soldier. He knew how to take defeat and to bide his
time; he knew how to behave in the hour of victory and in the moment of
rout. The miscarriage of a detail here and there in this vast,
comprehensive plan of action did not in the least sense discourage him.
It was no light blow to his calculations, of course, when the designs of
an organisation separate and distinct from his own failed in their
purpose. It was part of his plan to hold the misguided Reds responsible
for the lamentable death of Prince Robin. The people were to be given
swift, uncontrovertible proof that he had no hand in the unforeseen
transactions of the anarchists, who, he would make it appear, had by
curious coincidence elected to kill the Prince almost at the very hour
when he planned to seize the city as a conqueror.
His own connection with the operations of the mysterious Committee of
Ten was never to be known to the world. He would see to that.
At nine o'clock on Sunday morning a small group of people gathered in
the square: a meeting was soon in progress. A goods-box stood over
against the very spot on which Olga Platanova died. An old man began
haranguing the constantly growing crowd, made up largely of those whose
curiosity surpassed discreetness. In the group might have been seen
every member of the Committee of Ten, besides a full representation of
those who up to now had secretly affiliated with the Party of Equals. A
red flag waved above the little, excited group of fanatics, close to
the goods-box rostrum. One member of the Committee was absent from this,
their first public espousal of the cause. Later on we are to discover
who this man was. Two women in bright red waists were crying
encouragement to the old man on the box, whose opening sentences were no
less than an unchanted requiem for the dead martyr, Olga Platanova.
In the midst of his harangue, the hand of William Spantz was arrested in
one of its most emphatic gestures. A look of wonder and uncertainty came
into his face as he gazed, transfixed, over the heads of his hearers in
the direction of the Tower.
Peter Brutus was approaching, at the head of a group of aliens, all
armed and marching in ominously good order. Something in the face of
Peter Brutus sent a chill of apprehension into the very soul of the old
armourer.
And well it may have done so.
"One moment!" called out Peter Brutus, lifting his hand imperatively.
The speaker ceased his mouthings. "Count Marlanx desires the immediate
presence of the following citizens at his office in the Tower. I shall
call off the names." He began with William Spantz. The name of each of
his associates in the Committee of Ten followed. After them came a score
of names, all of them known to be supporters of the anarchist cause.
"What is the business, Peter?" demanded William Spantz.
"Does it mean we are to begin so soon the establishing of the new
order--" began Anna Cromer, her face aglow. Peter smiled wanly.
"Do not ask me," he said, emphasising the pronoun. "I am only commanded
to bring the faithful few before him."
"But why the armed escort?" growled Julius Spantz, who had spent an
unhappy twenty-four hours in bondage.
"To separate the wheat from the chaff," said Peter. "Move on, good
people, all you whose names were not called." The order was to the few
timid strangers who were there because they had nowhere else to go. They
scattered like chaff.
Ten minutes later every member of the Committee of Ten, except Peter
Brutus, was behind lock and bar, together with their shivering
associates, all of them dumbly muttering to themselves the awful
sentence that Marlanx had passed upon them.
"You are to die at sunset. Graustark still knows how to punish
assassins. She will make an example of you to-day that all creatures of
your kind, the world over, will not be likely to forget in a century to
come. There is no room in Graustark for anarchy. I shall wipe it out
to-day."
"Sir, your promise!" gasped William Spantz. "We are your friends--the
true Party of--"
"Enough! Do not speak again! Captain Brutus, you will send criers abroad
to notify the citizens that I, Count Marlanx, have ordered the execution
of the ringleaders in the plot to dynamite the Prince. At sunset, in the
square. Away with the carrion!"
Then it was, and not till then, that the Committee of Ten found him out!
Then it was that they came to know Peter Brutus! What were their
thoughts, we dare not tell: their shrieks and curses were spent against
inpenetrable floors and walls. Baron Dangloss heard, and, in time,
understood. Even he shrank back and shuddered.
It has been said that Marlanx was a soldier. There is one duty that the
soldier in command never neglects: the duty to those who fell while
fighting bravely for or against him. Sunday afternoon a force of men was
set to work burying the dead and clearing the pavements. Those of his
own nondescript army who gave up their lives on the 26th were buried in
the public cemeteries. The soldiers of the Crown, as well as the
military police, were laid to rest in the national cemetery, with
honours befitting their rank. Each grave was carefully marked and a
record preserved. In this way Marlanx hoped to obtain his first footing
in the confidence and esteem of the citizens. The unrecognisable corpse
of Olga Platanova was buried in quicklime outside the city walls. There
was something distinctly gruesome in the fact that half a dozen deep
graves were dug alongside hers, hours before death came to the wretches
who were to occupy them.
At three o'clock the Iron Count coolly sent messengers to the homes of
the leading merchants and bankers of the city. They, with the priests,
the doctors, the municipal officers and the manufacturers were commanded
to appear before him at five o'clock for the purpose of discussing the
welfare of the city and its people. Hating, yet fearing him, they came;
not one but felt in his heart that the old man was undisputed ruler of
their destinies. Hours of horror and despair, a night and a day of
bitter reflection, had brought the trembling populace to the point of
seeing clearly the whole miserable situation. The reserves were
powerless; the Royal Guard was besieged and greatly outnumbered; the
fortress was lost. There was nothing for them to do but temporise. Time
alone could open the way to salvation.
Marlanx stated his position clearly. He left no room for doubt in their
minds. The strings were in his hands: he had but to pull them. The
desire of his life was about to be attained. Without hesitation he
informed the leading men of the city that he was to be the Prince of
Graustark.
"I have the city," he said calmly. "The farms and villages will fall in
line. I do not worry over them. In a very short time I shall have the
Castle. The question for you to decide for yourselves is this: will you
be content to remain here as thrifty, peaceable citizens, protecting
your fortunes and being protected by a man and not by a child. If not,
please say so. The alternative is in the hands of the Crown. I am the
Crown. The Crown may at any time confiscate property and banish
malcontents and disturbers. A word to the wise, gentlemen. Inside of a
week we will have a new government. You will not suffer under its
administration. I should be indeed a fool to destroy the credit or
injure the integrity of my own dominion. But, let me say this,
gentlemen," he went on after a pause, in which his suavity gave way to
harshness; "you may as well understand at the outset that I expect to
rule here. I will rule Graustark or destroy her."
The more courageous in his audience began to protest against the
high-handed manner in which he proposed to treat them. Not a few
declared that they would never recognise him as a prince of the realm.
He waited, as a spider waits, until he thought they had gone far enough.
Then he held up his hand and commanded silence.
"Those of you who do not expect or desire to live under my rule--which,
I promise you, shall be a wise one,--may leave the city for other lands
just as soon as my deputies have completed the formal transfer of all
your belongings to the Crown treasury--all, I say, even to the minutest
trifle. Permit me to add, in that connection, gentlemen: the transfer
will not be a prolonged affair."
They glared back at him and subsided into bitter silence.
"I am well aware that you love little Prince Robin. Ha! You may not
cheer here, gentlemen, under penalty of my displeasure. It is quite
right that you should, as loyal subjects, love your Prince, whoever he
may be. I shall certainly expect it. Now, respecting young master Robin:
I have no great desire to kill him."
He waited to see the effect of this brutal announcement. His hearers
stiffened and--yes, they held their breath.
"He has one alternative--he and his lords. I trust that you, as sensible
gentlemen, will find the means to convey to him your advice that he
seize the opportunity I shall offer him to escape with his life. No one
really wants to see the little chap die. Let me interrupt myself to call
to your attention the fact that I am punishing the anarchists at sunset.
This to convince you that assassination will not be tolerated in
Graustark. To resume: the boy may return to America, where he belongs.
He is more of an American than one of us. I will give him free and safe
escort to the United States. Certain of his friends may accompany him;
others whom I shall designate will be required to remain here until I
have disposed of their cases as I see fit. These conditions I shall set
forth in my manifesto to the present occupant of the Castle. If he
chooses to accept my kindly terms, all well and good. If not, gentlemen,
I shall starve him out or blow the Castle down about his smart little
ears. You shudder! Well, I can't blame you. I shudder myself sometimes
when I think of it. There will be a great deal of royal blood, you know.
Ah, that reminds me: It may interest you to hear that I expect to
establish a new nobility in Graustark. The present house of lords is
objectionable to me. I trust I may now be addressing at least a few of
the future noble lords of Graustark. Good day, gentlemen. That is all
for the present. Kindly inform me if any of my soldiers or followers
overstep the bounds of prudence. Rapine and ribaldry will not be
tolerated."
The dignitaries and great men of the city went away, dazed and
depressed, looking at each other from bloodshot eyes. Not one friend had
Marlanx in that group, and he knew it well. He did not expect them to
submit at once or even remotely. They might have smiled, whereas they
frowned, if they could have seen him pacing the floor of his office, the
moment the doors closed behind their backs, clenching his hands and
cursing furiously.
At the Castle the deepest gloom prevailed. It was like a nightmare to
the beleaguered household, a dream from which there seemed to be no
awakening. Colonel Quinnox's first act after posting his forces in
position to repel attacks from the now well-recognised enemy, was to
make sure of the safety of his royal master. Inside the walls of the
Castle grounds he, as commander of the Royal Guard, ruled supreme.
General Braze tore off his own epaulets and presented himself to Quinnox
as a soldier of the file; lords and dukes, pages and ministers, followed
the example of the head of the War Department. No one stood on the
dignity of his position; no one does, as a rule, with the executioner
staring him in the face. Every man took up arms for the defence of the
Castle, its Prince and its lovely women.
Prince Robin, quite recovered from his fright, donned the uniform of a
Colonel of the Royal Dragoons, buckled on his jewelled sword, and, with
boyish zeal, demanded Colonel Quinnox's reasons for not going forth to
slay the rioters.
"What is the army for, Colonel Quinnox?" he asked with impatient wonder.
It was late in the afternoon and the Prince was seated in the chair of
state, presiding over the hurriedly called Council meeting. Notably
absent were Baron Dangloss and the Duke of Perse. Chief officers of the
Guard and the commissioned men of the army were present--that is, all of
them who had not gone down under the treacherous fire.
"Your Highness," said the Colonel bitterly, "the real army is outside
the walls, not inside. We are a pitiful handful-less than three hundred
men, all told, counting the wounded. Count Marlanx heads an army of
several thousand. He--"
"He wants to get in here so's he can kill me? Is that so, Colonel
Quinnox?" The Prince was very pale, but quite calm.
"Oh, I wouldn't put it just that way, your--"
"Oh, I know. You can't fool me. I've always known that he wants to kill
me. But how can he? That's the question; how can he when I've got the
Royal Guard to keep him from doing it? He can't whip the Royal Guard.
Nobody can. He ought to know that. He must be awful stupid."
His perfect, unwavering faith in the Guard was the same that had grown
up with every prince of Graustark and would not be gainsaid. A score of
hearts swelled with righteous pride and as many scabbards rattled as
heels clicked and hands went up in salute.
"Your Highness," said Quinnox, with a glance at his fellow-officers,
"you may rely upon it, Count Marlanx will never reach you until he has
slain every man in the Royal Guard."
"And in the army--our poor little army," added General Braze.
"Thank you," said the Prince. "You needn't have told me. I knew it." He
leaned back in the big chair, almost slipping from the record books on
which he sat, a brave scowl on his face. "Gee, I wish he'd attack us
right now," he said, with ingenuous bravado.
The council of war was not a lengthy one. The storm that had arisen out
of a perfectly clear sky was briefly discussed in all its phases. No man
there but realised the seriousness of the situation. Count Halfont, who
seemed ten years older than when we last saw him, addressed the Cabinet.
"John Tullis is still outside the city walls. If he does not fall into a
trap through ignorance of the city's plight, I firmly believe he will be
able to organise an army of relief among the peasants and villagers.
They are loyal. The mountaineers and shepherds, wild fellows all, and
the ones who have fallen into the spider's net. Count Marlanx has an
army of aliens; they are not even revolutionists. John Tullis, if given
the opportunity, can sweep the city clear of them. My only fear is that
he may be tricked into ambush before we can reach him. No doubt Marlanx,
in devising a way to get him out of the city, also thought of the means
to keep him out."
"We must get word to Tullis," cried several in a breath. A dozen men
volunteered to risk their lives in the attempt to find the American in
the hills. Two men were chosen--by lot. They were to venture forth that
very night.
"My lords," said the Prince, as the Council was on the point of
dissolving, "is it all right for me to ask a question now?"
"Certainly, Robin," said the Prime Minister.
"Well, I'd like to know where Mr. King is."
"He's safe, your Highness," said Quinnox.
"Aunt Loraine is worried, that's all. She's sick, you see--awful sick.
Do you think Mr. King would be good enough to walk by her window, so's
she can see for herself? She's in the royal bedchamber."
"The royal bedchamber?" gasped the high chamberlain.
"I gave up my bed right off, but she won't stay in it. She sits in the
window most of the time. It's all right about the bed. I spoke to nurse
about it. Besides, I don't want to go to bed while there's any fighting
going on. So, you see, it's all right. Say, Uncle Caspar, may I take a
crack at old Marlanx with my new rifle if I get a chance? I've been
practising on the target range, and Uncle Jack says I'm a reg'lar
Buffalo Bill."
Count Halfont unceremoniously hugged his wriggling grand-nephew. A cheer
went up from the others.
"Long live Prince Robin!" shouted Count Vos Engo.
Prince Robin looked abashed. "I don't think I could hit him," he said
with becoming modesty. They laughed aloud. "But, say, don't forget about
Mr. King. Tell him I want him to parade most of the time in front of my
windows."
"He has a weak ankle," began Colonel Quinnox lamely.
"Very difficult for him to walk," said Vos Engo, biting his lips.
The Prince looked from face to face, suspicion in his eyes. It dawned on
him that they were evading the point. A stubborn line appeared between
his brows.
"Then I command you, Colonel Quinnox, to give him the best horse in the
stables. I want him to ride."
"It shall be as you command, your Highness."
A few minutes later, his grand-uncle, the Prime Minister, was carrying
him down the corridor; Prince Robin was perched upon the old man's
shoulder, and was a thoughtful mood.
"Say, Uncle Caspar, Mr. King's all right, isn't he?"
"He is a very brave and noble gentleman, Bobby. We owe to his valour the
life of the best boy in all the world."
"Yes, and Aunt Loraine owes him a lot, too. She says so. She's been
crying, Uncle Caspar. Say, has she just got to marry Count Vos Engo?"
"My boy, what put that question into your mind?"
"She says she has to. I thought only princes and princesses had to marry
people they don't want to."
"You should not believe all that you hear."
Bobby was silent for twenty steps. Then he said: "Well, I think she'll
make an awful mistake if she lets Mr. King get away."
"My boy, we have other affairs to trouble us at present without taking
up the affairs of Miss Tullis."
"Well, he saved her life, just like they do in story books," protested
the Prince.
"Well, you run in and tell her this minute that Mr. King sends his love
to her and begs her to rest easy. See if it doesn't cheer her up a bit."
"Maybe she's worried about Uncle Jack. I never thought about that," he
faltered.
"Uncle Jack will come out on top, never fear," cried the old man.
Half an hour later, Truxton King, shaven and shorn, outfitted and
polished, received orders to ride for twenty minutes back and forth
across the Plaza. He came down from Colonel Quinnox's rooms in the
officer's row, considerably mystified, and mounted the handsome bay
that he had brought through the gates. Haddan, of the Guard, rode with
him to the Plaza, but could offer no explanation for the curious
command.
Five times the now resentful American walked his horse across the Plaza,
directly in front of the terrace and the great balconies. About him
paced guardsmen, armed and alert; on the outer edge of the parade ground
a company of soldiers were hurrying through the act of changing the
Guard; in the lower balcony excited men and women were walking back and
forth, paying not the least attention to him. Above him frowned the
grey, lofty walls of the Castle. No one was in view on the upper
balcony, beyond which he had no doubt lay the royal chambers. He had the
mean, uncomfortable feeling that people were peering at him from remote
windows.
Suddenly a small figure in bright red and gold and waving a tiny sword
appeared at the rail of the broad upper gallery. Truxton blinked his
eyes once or, twice and then doffed his hat. The Prince was smiling
eagerly.
"Hello!" he called. Truxton drew rein directly below him.
"I trust your Highness has recovered from the shock of to-day," he
responded. "I have been terribly anxious. Are you quite well?"
"Quite well, thank you." He hesitated for a moment, as if in doubt.
Then: "Say, Mr. King, how's your leg?"
Truxton looked around in sudden embarrassment. A number of distressed,
white-faced ladies had paused in the lower gallery and were staring at
him in mingled curiosity and alarm. He instantly wondered if Colonel
Quinnox's riding clothes were as good a fit as he had been led to
believe through Hobbs and others.
"It's--it's fine, thank you," he called up, trying to subdue his voice
as much as possible.
Bobby looked a trifle uncertain. His glance wavered and a queer little
wrinkle appeared between his eyes. He lowered his voice when he next
spoke.
"Say, would you mind shouting that a little louder," he called down,
leaning well over the rail.
Truxton flushed. He was pretty sure that the Prince was not deaf. There
was no way out of it, however, so he repeated his communication.
"It's all right, your Highness."
Bobby gave a quick glance over his shoulder at one of the broad windows.
Truxton distinctly saw the blinds close with a convulsive jerk.
"Thanks! Much obliged! Good-bye!" sang out the Prince, gleefully. He
waved his hand and then hopped off the chair on which he was standing.
Truxton heard his little heels clatter across the stone balcony. For a
moment he was nonplused.
"Well, I'm--By Jove! I understand!" He rode off toward the barracks, his
head swimming with joy, his heart jumping like mad. At the edge of the
parade ground he turned in his saddle and audaciously lifted his hat to
the girl who, to his certain knowledge, was standing behind the
tell-tale blind.
"Cheer up, Hobbs!" he sang out in his new-found exuberance as he rode up
to the dismal Englishman, who moped in the shade of the stable walls.
"Don't be down-hearted. Look at me! Never say die, that's my motto."
"That's all very well, sir," said Hobbs, removing the unlighted pipe
from his lips, "but you 'aven't got a dog and a parrot locked up in your
rooms with no one to feed them. It makes me sick, 'pon my soul, sir, to
think of them dying of thirst and all that, and me here safe and sound,
so to speak."
That night Haddan and a fellow-subaltern attempted to leave the Castle
grounds by way of the private gate in the western wall, only to be
driven back by careful watchers on the outside. A second attempt was
made at two o'clock. This time they went through the crypt into the
secret underground passage. As they crawled forth into the blackest of
nights, clear of the walls, they were met by a perfect fusillade of
rifle shots. Haddan's companion was shot through the leg and arm and it
was with extreme difficulty that the pair succeeded in regaining the
passage and closing the door. No other attempt was made that night.
Sunday night a quick sortie was made, it being the hope of the besieged
that two selected men might elude Marlanx's watch-dogs during the melee
that followed. Curiously enough, the only men killed were the two who
had been chosen to run the gauntlet in the gallant, but ill-timed
attempt to reach John Tullis.
On Monday morning the first direct word from Count Marlanx came to the
Castle. Under a flag of truce, two of his men were admitted to the
grounds. They presented the infamous ultimatum of the Iron Count. In
brief, it announced the establishment of a dictatorship pending the
formal assumption of the crown by the conqueror. With scant courtesy the
Iron Count begged to inform Prince Robin that his rule was at an end.
Surrender would result in his safe conduct to America, the home of his
father; defiance would just so surely end in death for him and all of
his friends. The Prince was given twenty-four hours in which to
surrender his person to the new governor of the city. With the
expiration of the time limit mentioned, the Castle would be shelled from
the fortress, greatly as the dictator might regret the destruction of
the historic and well-beloved structure. No one would be spared if it
became necessary to bombard; the rejection of his offer of mercy would
be taken as a sign that the defenders were ready to die for a lost
cause. He would cheerfully see to it that they died as quickly as
possible, in order that the course of government might not be obstructed
any longer than necessary.
The defenders of the Castle tore his message in two and sent it back to
him without disfiguring it by a single word in reply. The scornful
laughter which greeted the reading of the document by Count Halfont did
not lose any of its force in the report that the truce-bearers carried,
with considerable uneasiness, to the Iron Count later on.
No one in the Castle was deceived by Marlanx's promise to provide safe
conduct for the Prince. They knew that the boy was doomed if he fell
into the hands of this iniquitous old schemer. More than that, there was
not a heart among them so faint that it was not confident of eventual
victory over the usurper. They could hold out for weeks against
starvation. Hope is an able provider.
A single, distant volley at sunset had puzzled the men on guard at the
Castle. They had no means of knowing that the Committee of Ten and its
wretched friends had been shot down like dogs in the Public Square.
Peter Brutus was in charge of the squad of executioners.
Soon after the return of Marlanx's messengers to the Tower, a number of
carriages were observed approaching in Castle Avenue. They were halted a
couple of hundred yards from the gates and once more a flag of truce was
presented. There was a single line from Marlanx:
"I am sending indisputable witnesses to bear testimony to the
thoroughness of my conquest.
"MARLANX."
Investigation convinced the captain of the Guard that the motley caravan
in the avenue was made up of loyal, representative citizens from the
important villages of the realm. They were admitted to the grounds
without question.
The Countess Prandeville of Ganlook, terribly agitated, was one of the
first to enter the haven of safety, such as it was. After her came the
mayors and the magistrates of a dozen villages. Count Marlanx's reason
for delivering these people over to their friends in the Castle was at
once manifest.
By the words of their mouths his almost complete mastery of the
situation was conveyed to the Prince's defenders. In every instance the
representative from a village sorrowfully admitted that Marlanx's men
were in control. Ganlook, an ancient stronghold, had been taken without
a struggle by a handful of men. The Countess's husband was even now
confined in his own castle under guard.
The news was staggering. Count Halfont had based his strongest hopes on
the assistance that would naturally come from the villages. Moreover,
the strangely commissioned emissaries cast additional gloom over the
situation by the report that mountaineers, herdsmen and woodchoppers in
the north were flocking to the assistance of the Iron Count, followed by
hordes of outlaws from the Axphain hills. They were swarming into the
city. These men had always been thorns in the sides of the Crown's
peace-makers.
"It is worse than I thought," said Count Halfont, after listening to
the words of the excited magistrates. "Are there no loyal men outside
these walls?"
"Thousands, sir, but they are not organised. They have no leader, and
but little with which to fight against such a force."
"It is hard to realise that a force of three or four thousand
desperadoes has the power to defy an entire kingdom. A city of 75,000
people in the hands of hirelings! The shame of it!"
Truxton King was leaning against a column not far from the little group,
nervously pulling away at the pipe Quinnox had given him. As if impelled
by a common thought, a half dozen pairs of eyes were turned in his
direction. Their owners looked as quickly away, again moved by a common
thought.
The Minister of Mines gave utterance to a single sentence that might
well have been called the epitome of that shrewd, concentrated thought:
"There must be some one who can get to John Tullis before it is too
late."
They looked at one another and then once more at the American who had
come among them, avowedly in quest of adventure.