THE RETURN
From the highlands below the Monastery, Captain Haas and his men were
able to study the situation in the city. The impracticability of an
assault on any one of the stubborn, well-guarded gates was at once
recognised. A force of seven hundred men, no matter how well trained or
determined, could not be expected to surmount walls that had often
withstood the attack of as many thousands. The wisdom of delaying until
a few thousand loyal, though poorly armed countrymen could be brought
into play against the city appealed at once to Prince Dantan and John
Tullis.
Withdrawing to an unexposed cut in the hills, safe from the shells that
might be thrown up from the fortress, they established their camps,
strongly entrenched and practically invulnerable against any attack from
below. Squads of men were sent without delay into the hills and valleys
to call the panic-stricken, wavering farmers into the fold. John Tullis
headed the company that struck off into the well-populated Ganlook
district.
Marlanx, as if realising the nature of the movement in the hills, began
a furious assault on the gates leading to the Castle. The watchers in
the hills could see as well as hear the conflict that raged almost at
their feet, so to speak. They cheered like mad when the motley army of
the usurper was frustrated in the attempt to take the main gates. From
the walls about the park, Quinnox's men, few as they were, sent such
deadly volleys into the streets below that the hordes fell back and
found shelter behind the homes of the rich. With half an eye, one could
see that the rascals were looting the palaces, secure from any
opposition on the part of the government forces; through the glasses,
scattered crowds of men could be seen carrying articles from the houses;
more than one of the mansions went up in flames as the day grew old and
the lust of the pillagers increased.
The next morning, Captain Haas announced to his followers that Marlanx
had begun to shell the Castle. Big guns in the fortress were hurling
great shells over the city, dropping them in the park. On the other
hand, Colonel Quinnox during the night had swung three Gatling guns to
the top of the wall; they were stationed at intervals along the wall,
commanding every point from which an assault might be expected. It was a
well-known fact that there was no heavy ordnance at the Castle. All day
long, Marlanx's men, stationed in the upper stories of houses close to
the walls, kept up a constant rifle fire, their bullets being directed
against the distant windows of the Castle. That this desultory fusillade
met with scant response at the hands of Quinnox, was quite apparent to
the uneasy, champing watchers near the Monastery.
"Marlanx will not begin the actual bombardment until he knows that
Tullis is drawing together a formidable force," prophesied Prince
Dantan.
"But when he does begin the real shelling," mourned Truxton King,
chafing like a lion under the deadly inaction. "I can't bear the thought
of what it means to those inside the Castle. He can blow it to pieces
over their heads. Then, from the house tops, he can pick them off like
blackbirds. It's awful! Is there nothing that we can do, Prince? Damn it
all, I know we can force a gate. And if we once get in where those
cowardly dogs are lording it, you'll see 'em take the walls like
steeple-chasers."
"My dear Mr. King," said Prince Dantan calmly, "you don't know Colonel
Quinnox and the House Guard. The Quinnoxs have guarded Graustark's
rulers for I don't know how many generations. History does not go back
so far, I fear. You may depend on it, there will be no living guardsmen
inside those walls when Marlanx lays his hands on the Prince."
That night recruits from the farms and villages began to straggle into
the camp. They were armed with rifles, ordinary shotguns and antique
"blunderbusses;" swords, staves and aged lances. All were willing to die
in the service of the little Prince; all they needed was a determined,
capable leader to rally them from the state of utter panic. They
reported that the Crown foragers might expect cheerful and plenteous
tribute from the farmers and stock growers. Only the mountaineers were
hostile.
The army now grew with astonishing rapidity. The recruits were not
fighting men in a military sense, but their hearts were true and they
hungered for the chance to stamp out the evil that lay at their feet. By
the close of the second day nearly three thousand men were encamped
above the city. Late that night John Tullis rode into camp at the head
of a great company from the Ganlook province. He had retaken the town of
Ganlook, seized the fortress, and recruited the entire fighting strength
of the neighbourhood. More than that, he had unlimbered and conveyed to
the provisional camp two of the big guns that stood above the gates at
the fortress. There had been a dozen skirmishes between the regulars and
roving bands of desperadoes. A savage fight took place at Ganlook and
another in the gap below the witch's hut. In both of these sanguinary
affrays the government forces had come off victorious, splendid omens
that did not fail to put confidence into the hearts of the men.
Marlanx trained two of his big guns on the camp in the hills. From the
fortress he threw many futile shells toward their place of shelter. They
did no damage; instead of death, they brought only laughter to the
scornful camp. Under cover of night, the two Ganlook cannons were
planted in a position commanding the southeastern city gate. It was the
plan of the new besiegers to bombard this gate, tearing it to pieces
with shot. When their force was strong enough offensively, an assault
would be flung against this opening. Drill and discipline were
necessary, however, before the attempt could be made. In the present
chaotic, untrained condition of their forces, an assault would prove not
only ineffectual, but disastrous. Day after day the recruits were put
through hard drill under the direction of the regular officers. Every
day saw the force increased. This made hard work for the drill-masters.
The willingness of the recruits, however, lessened the task
considerably.
The knowledge that Marlanx had no big guns except those stationed in the
fortress was most consoling to Tullis and his friends. He could not
destroy the Castle gates with shells, except by purest chance. He could
drop shells into the Castle, but to hit a gate twenty feet wide? Never!
Field ordnance was unknown to this country of mountains.
The Iron Count's inability to destroy the Castle gates made it feasible
for the men in the hills to devote considerable more time to drill and
preparation than they might have sacrificed if the conditions were the
reverse. They were confident that Quinnox could hold the Castle for
many days. With all this in mind, Captain Haas and Prince Dantan beat
down the objections of the impatient Americans; the work of preparation
against ignominous failure went on as rapidly as possible. Haas would
not attack until he was ready, or it became absolutely certain that the
men at the Castle were in dire need.
Signalling between the Castle and the hills had been going on for days.
The absence of the "wigwag" system made it impossible to convey
intelligible messages.
Truxton King was growing haggard from worry and loss of sleep. He could
not understand the abominable, criminal procrastination. He was of a
race that did things with a dash and on the spur of the moment. His soul
sickened day by day. John Tullis, equally unhappy, but more
philosophical, often found him seated upon a rock at the top of the
ravine, an unlighted pipe in his fingers, his eyes intent upon the hazy
Castle.
"Cheer up, King. Our time will come," he was wont to say.
"I've just got to do something, Tullis. This standing around is killing
me." Again he would respond: "Don't forget that I love some one down
there, old man. Maybe she's worrying about me, as well as about you."
Once he gave poor Mr. Hobbs a frightful tongue-lashing and was afterward
most contrite and apologetic. Poor Hobbs had been guilty of asking if he
had a headache.
Truxton was assigned to several scouting expeditions, simply to provide
him with action and diverting excitement. One of these expeditions
determined the impossibility of entering the city through the railroad
yards because of the trestle-work and the barricade of freight cars at
the gap in the wall.
They had been in camp for a week. The stategists had practically decided
that the assault could be made within a day or two. All was in
readiness--or as near as it could be--and all was enthusiasm and
excitement.
"If Haas puts it off another day I'm going to start a round robin,
whatever that is," said Truxton. As he said it to a Dawsbergen officer
who could not understand English, it is doubtful if that gentleman's
polite nod of acquiescence meant unqualified approval of the project.
At first they had built no fires at night. Now the force was so
formidable that this precaution was unnecessary. The air was chill and
there were tents for but a few of the troopers. The fires in the ravine
always were surrounded by great circles of men, eagerly discussing the
coming battle. At the upper end of the ravine were the tents of the
officers, Prince Dantan and John Tullis. The latter shared his with King
and Mr. Hobbs. Up here, the circle about the kindly pile of burning logs
was small, select and less demonstrative. Here they smoked in silence
most of the time, each man's thoughts delivered to himself.
Above, on the jutting rock, sat the disconsolate, lovesick Truxton. It
was the night before the proposed assault on the gates. The guns were in
position and the cannonading was to begin at daybreak. He was full of
the bitterness of doubt and misgiving. Was she in love with Vos Engo?
Was the Count's suit progressing favourably under the fire of the enemy?
Was his undoubted bravery having its effect upon the wavering
susceptibilities of the distressed Loraine?
Here was he, Truxton King, idle and useless for more than a week, beyond
range of the guns of the foe, while down there was Vos Engo in the thick
of it, at the side of the girl he loved in those long hours of peril,
able to comfort her, to cheer her, to fight for her. It was maddening.
He was sick with uncertainty, consumed by jealousy. His pipe was not out
now: he was smoking furiously.
The sound of a voice in sharp command attracted his attention. One of
the sentries in the road below the elbow of the ridge had stopped some
one who was approaching the camp. There was a bright moon, and Truxton
could see other pickets hurrying to join the first. A few moments later
the trespassers were escorted through the lines and taken directly to
headquarters. A man and two women, King observed. Somewhat interested,
he sauntered down from his lonely boulder and joined the group of
officers.
John Tullis was staring hard at the group approaching from the roadway.
They were still outside the circle of light, but it was plain to all
that the newcomers were peasants. The women wore the short red skirts
and the pointed bonnets of the lower classes. Gaudy shawls covered their
shoulders. One was tall and slender, with a bearing that was not
peasant-like. It was she who held Tullis's intense, unbelieving gaze
until they were well inside the fire-light. She walked ahead of her
companions. Suddenly he sprang forward with a cry of amazement.
It was the Countess Ingomede.
Her arrival created a sensation. In a moment she was in the centre of an
amazed circle of men. Tullis, after his first low, eager greeting at the
edge of the fire circle, drew her near to the warmth-giving flames.
Prince Dantan and Captain Haas threw rugs and blankets in a great heap
for her to sit upon. Every one was talking at once. The Countess was
smiling through her tears.
"Make room for my maid and her father. They are colder and more
fatigued than I," she said, lifting her tired, glorious eyes to John
Tullis, who stood beside her. "We have come from Balak. They suffered
much, that I might enjoy the slender comforts I was so ready to share
with them."
"Thank God, you are here," he said in low, intense tones. She could not
mistake the fervour in his voice nor the glow in his eyes. Her wondrous,
yellowish orbs looked steadily into his, and he was satisfied. They paid
tribute to the emotion that moved him to the depths of his being. Love
leaped up to him from those sweet, tired eyes; leaped with the unerring
force of an electric current that finds its lodestone in spite of mortal
will.
"I knew you were here, John. I am not going back to Count Marlanx. It is
ended."
"I knew it would come, Ingomede. You will let me tell you how glad I
am--some day?"
"Some day, when I am truly, wholly free from him, John. I know what you
will say, and I think you know what I shall say in reply." Both
understood and were exalted. No other word passed between them touching
upon the thing that was uppermost in their minds.
Food was provided for the wayfarers, and Tullis's tent was made ready
for the Countess and her maid.
"Truxton," said he, "we will have to find other quarters for the night.
I've let my apartment--furnished."
"She's gloriously beautiful, John," was all that Truxton said, puffing
moodily at his pipe. He was thinking of one more beautiful, however. "I
suppose you'd think it a favour if I'd pot Marlanx for you to-morrow."
"It doesn't matter whether he's potted or not, my friend. She will not
go back to him. He will have to find another prisoner for his
household."
Truxton's thoughts went with a shudder to the underground room and the
fair prisoner who had shared it with him. The dread of what might have
been the fate of Loraine Tullis--or what might still be in store for
her--brought cold chills over him. He abruptly turned away and sat down
at the outer edge of the group.
The Countess's story was soon told. Sitting before the great fire,
surrounded by eager listeners, she related her experiences. Prince
Dantan was her most attentive listener.
She had been seized on the night of the ball as she started across her
father's garden. Before sunrise she was well on her way to Balak, in
charge of three of the Count's most faithful henchmen. As for the
messages that were sent to Edelweiss, she knew nothing of them, except
the last, which she had managed to get through with the assistance of
Josepha's father. She was kept a close prisoner in a house just outside
of Balak, and came to learn all of the infamous projects of her husband.
At the end of ten days her maid was sent to her from Edelweiss. She
brought the news of the calamity that had befallen the city. It was then
that she determined to break away from her captors and try to reach the
Monastery of St. Valentine, where protection would be afforded her for
the time being. After several days of ardent persuasion, she and Josepha
prevailed upon the latter's father to assist them in their flight. Not
only was he persuaded, but in the end he journeyed with them through the
wildest country north of Ganlook. They were four days in covering the
distance, partly on foot, partly by horse. Near the city they heard of
the presence of troops near the Monastery. Farmers' wives told them of
the newly formed army and of its leaders. She determined to make her
way to the camp of those who would destroy her husband, eager to give
them any assistance that her own knowledge of Marlanx's plans might
provide.
Many details are omitted in this brief recital of her story. Perhaps it
is well to leave something to the imagination.
One bit of information she gave created no end of consternation among
the would-be deliverers of the city. It had the effect of making them
all the more resolute; the absolute necessity for immediately regaining
control in the city was forced upon them. She told them that Count
Marlanx had lately received word that the Grand Duke Paulus was likely
to intervene before many days, acting on his own initiative, in the
belief that he could force the government of Graustark to grant the
railway privileges so much desired by his country. Marlanx realised that
he would have to forestall the wily Grand Duke. If he were in absolute
control of the Graustark government when the Russian appeared, he and he
alone would be in a position to deal with the situation. Unless the
Castle fell into his hands beforehand, insuring the fall of the royal
house and the ministry, the Grand Duke's natural inclination would be to
first befriend the hapless Prince and then to demand recompense in
whatsoever form he saw fit.
"The Grand Duke may send a large force of men across the border at any
time," said the Countess in conclusion. "Count Marlanx is sure to make a
decisive assault as soon as he hears that the movement has begun. He had
hopes of starving them out, thus saving the Castle from destruction, but
as that seems unlikely, his shells will soon begin to rain in earnest
upon the dear old pile."
Truxton King was listening with wide open ears. As she finished this
dreary prediction he silently arose to his feet and, without a word to
any one, stalked off in the darkness. Tullis looked after him and shook
his head sadly.
"I'll be happy on that fellow's account when daybreak comes and we are
really at it," he said to Prince Dantan, who knew something of King's
affliction.
But Truxton King was not there at daybreak. When he strode out of the
camp that night, he left it behind forever.
The unfortunate lack of means to communicate with the occupants of the
Castle had been the source of great distress to Captain Haas. If the
defenders could be informed as to the exact hour of the assault from the
outside, they could do much toward its speedy success by making a fierce
sortie from behind their own walls. A quick dash from the Castle grounds
would serve to draw Marlanx's attention in that direction, diminishing
the force that he would send to check the onslaught at the gates. But
there was no means of getting word to Colonel Quinnox. His two or three
hundred men would be practically useless at the most critical period of
the demonstration.
Truxton King had all this in mind as he swung off down the mountain
road, having stolen past the sentries with comparative ease. He was
smiling to himself. If all went well with him, Colonel Quinnox would be
able to rise to the occasion. If he failed in the daring mission he had
elected to perform, the only resulting harm would be to himself; the
plans of the besiegers would not suffer.
He knew his ground well by this time. He had studied it thoroughly from
the forlorn boulder at the top of the ravine. By skirting the upper
walls, on the mountain side, he might, in a reasonably short space of
time, reach the low woodlands north of the Castle walls. The danger
from Marlanx's scouts outside the city was not great; they had been
scattered and beaten by Haas's recruiting parties. He stood in more
danger from the men he would help, they who were the watchful defenders
of the Castle.
It must have been two o'clock when he crossed the King's Highway, a mile
or more above the northern gates, and struck down into the same thick
undergrowth that had protected him and Hobbs on a memorable night not
long before.
At three o'clock, a dripping figure threw up his hands obligingly and
laughed with exultation when confronted by a startled guardsman _inside_
the Castle walls and not more than fifty yards from the water gates!
He had timed his entrance by the sound of the guardsman's footstep on
the stone protecting wall that lined the little stream. When he came to
the surface inside the water gate, the sentry was at the extreme end of
his beat. He shouted a friendly cry as he advanced toward the man,
calling out his own name.
Ten minutes later he was standing in the presence of the haggard,
nerve-racked Quinnox, pouring into his astonished ears the news of the
coming attack. While he was discarding his wet clothing for others,
preparations for the sortie were getting under way. The Colonel lost no
time in routing out the sleeping guardsmen and reserves, and in sending
commands to those already on duty at the gates. The quick rattle of
arms, the rush of feet, the low cries of relief, the rousing of horses,
soon usurped the place of dreary, deadly calm.
When the sun peeped over the lofty hills, he saw inside the gates a
restless, waiting company of dragoons, ready for the command to ride
forth. Worn, haggard fellows, who had slept but little and who had eaten
scarcely anything for three days; men who would have starved to death.
Now they were forgetting their hunger and fatigue in the wild, exultant
joy of the prospect ahead.
Meantime, King had crossed the grounds with Colonel Quinnox, on the way
to the Castle. He was amazed, almost stupefied by the devastation that
already had been wrought. Trees were down; great, gaping holes in the
ground marked the spots where shells had fallen; the plaza was an almost
impassable heap of masonry and soil, torn and rent by huge projectiles.
But it was his first clear view of the Castle itself that appalled the
American.
A dozen or more balls had crashed into the façade. Yawning fissures,
gigantic holes, marked the path of the ugly messengers from Marlanx.
Nearly all of the windows had been wrecked by riflemen who shot from the
roofs of palaces in and about the avenue. Two of the smaller minarets
were in ruins; a huge pillar in the lower balcony was gone; the terrace
had been ploughed up by a single ricochetting shell.
"Great God!" gasped King. "It is frightful!"
"They began bombarding yesterday afternoon. We were asked to surrender
at three o'clock. Our reply brought the shells, Mr. King. It was
terrible."
"And the loss of life, Colonel?" demanded the other breathlessly.
"After the first two or three shells we found places of shelter for the
Prince and his friends. They are in the stone tower beyond the Castle,
overlooking what still remains of the ancient moat. Ah, there are no
faltering hearts here, Mr. King. The most glorious courage instead.
Count Vos Engo guards the Prince and the ladies of the household. Alas!
it was hunger that we feared the most. To-day we should have resorted to
horse's flesh. There was no other way. We knew that relief would come
some day. John Tullis was there. We had faith in him and in you. And now
it is to-day! This shall be our day, thank God! Nothing can stand before
us!"
"Tullis is very anxious about his sister," ventured Truxton. Quinnox
looked straight ahead, but smiled.
"She is the pluckiest of them all."
"Is she well?"
"Perhaps a trifle thin, sir, that is all. I dare say that is due to
scarcity of nourishment, although the Prince and his closest associates
were the last to feel deprivation."
"How does the Prince take all this, Colonel?"
"As any Prince of Graustark would, sir. There is no other way. It is in
the blood."
"Poor little chap!"
"He will rejoice to know that you have found his lucky stone so
effective. The Prince has never wavered in his loyalty to that pebble,
sir."
Together they entered the Castle. Inside there were horrid signs of
destruction, particularly off the balconies.
"No one occupies the upper part of the Castle now, sir."
Attendants sped to the tower, shouting the battle tidings. No
compunction was felt in arousing the sleeping household. As a matter of
fact, there was no protest from the eager ladies and gentlemen who
hurried forth to hear the news.
The Prince came tumbling down the narrow iron stairs from his room
above, shouting joyously to Truxton King. No man was ever so welcome. He
was besieged with questions, handshakings and praises. Even the Duke of
Perse, hobbling on crutches, had a kindly greeting for him. Tears
streamed down the old man's cheeks when King told him of his daughter's
safe arrival in the friendly camp.
Truxton picked the Prince up in his arms and held him close to his
breast, patting his back all the while, his heart so full that he could
not speak.
"I knowed you'd come back," Bobby kept crying in his ear. "Aunt Loraine
said you wouldn't, but I said you would. I knowed it--I knowed it! And
now you're going to be a baron, sure enough. Isn't he, Uncle Caspar?"
But Truxton was not listening to the eager prattle. He remembered
afterward that Bobby's hands and face were hot with fever. Just now he
was staring at the narrow staircase. Vos Engo and Loraine were
descending slowly. The former was white and evidently very weak. He
leaned on the girl for support.
Count Halfont offered the explanation. "Vos Engo was shot last week,
through the shoulder. He is too brave to give up, as you may see. It
happened on the terrace. There was an unexpected fusilade from the
housetops. Eric placed himself between the marksmen and Miss Tullis. A
bullet that might have killed her instantly, struck him in the shoulder.
They were fleeing to the balcony. He fell and she dragged him to a place
of safety. The wound is not so serious as it might have been, but he
should be in bed. He, like most of us, has not removed his clothing in
five days and nights."
King never forgot the look in Loraine's eyes as she came down the steps.
Joy and anguish seemed to combine themselves in that long, intense look.
He saw her hand go to her heart. Her lips were parted. He knew she was
breathing quickly, tremulously.
The Prince was whispering in his ear: "Keep the lucky stone, Mr. King.
Please keep it. It will surely help you. I gave her your kiss. She was
happy--awful happy for awhile. 'Nen the Count he saved her from the
bullet. But you just keep the lucky stone." King put him down and walked
directly across to meet her at the foot of the steps.
She gave him her hands. The look in her tired eyes went straight to his
heart. Vos Engo drew back, his face set in a frown of displeasure.
"My brother?" she asked, without taking her gaze from his eyes.
"He is well. He will see you to-day."
"And you, Truxton?" was her next question, low and quavering.
"Unharmed and unchanged, Loraine," he said softly. "Tell me, did Vos
Engo stand between you and the fire from the--"
"Yes, Truxton," she said, dropping her eyes as if in deep pain.
"And you have not--broken your promise to him?"
"No. Nor have I broken my promise to you."
"He is a brave man. I can't help saying it," said the American, deep
lines suddenly appearing in his face. Swiftly he turned to Vos Engo,
extending his hand. "My hand, sir, to a brave man!"
Vos Engo stared at him for a moment and then turned away, ignoring the
friendly hand. A hot flush mounted to Loraine's brow.
"This is a brave man, too, Eric," she said very quietly.
Vos Engo's response was a short, bitter laugh.