CHAPTER XXII
THE LAST STAND
Soon after five o'clock, a man in the topmost window of the tower calleddown that the forces in the hills were moving in a compact body towardthe ridges below the southern gates.
"Give them half an hour to locate themselves," advised Truxton King."They will move rapidly and strike as soon as the shells have levelledthe gates. The proper time for your sortie, Colonel, would be some timein advance of their final movement. You will in that way draw at least aportion of Marlanx's men away from the heart of the city. They will cometo the assistance of the gang bivouacked beyond the Duke of Perse'spalace."
One hundred picked men were to be left inside the Castle gates with VosEngo, prepared to meet any flank movement that might be attempted. Threehundred mounted men were selected to make the dash down Castle Avenue,straight into the camp of the sharpshooters. It was the purpose of thehouse guard to wage a fierce and noisy conflict off the Avenue and thenretire to the Castle as abruptly as they left it, to be ready forMarlanx, should he decide to make a final desperate effort to seizetheir stronghold.
King, fired by a rebellious zeal, elected to ride with the attackingparty. His heart was cold with the fear that he was to lose Loraine,after all. The fairy princess of his dreams seemed farther away from himthan ever. "I'll do what I can for the Prince," he said to himself."He's a perfect little brick. Damn Vos Engo! I'll make him repent thatinsult. Every one noticed it, too. She tried to smooth it over, but--oh,well, what's the use!"
The dash of the three hundred through the gates and down the avenue wasthe most spectacular experience in Truxton's life. He was up withQuinnox and General Braze, galloping well in front of the yelling troop.These mounted carbineers, riding as Bedouins, swept like thunder downthe street, whirled into the broad, open arena beyond the Duke's palace,and were upon the surprised ruffians before they were fully awake to thesituation.
They came tumbling out of barns and sheds, clutching their rifles innerveless hands, aghast in the face of absolute destruction. It was allover with the first dash of the dragoons. The enemy, craven at theoutset, threw down their guns and tried to escape through the alleys andside streets at the end of the common. Firing all the time, theattacking force rode them down as if they were so many dogs. The few whostood their ground and fought valiantly were overpowered and madecaptive by Quinnox. Less than a hundred men were found in the camp.Instead of retreating immediately to the Castle, Quinnox, acting on thesuggestion of the exhilarated King, kept up a fierce, deceptive fire forthe benefit of the distant Marlanx.
After ten or fifteen minutes of this desultory carnage, it was reportedthat a large force of men were entering the avenue from RegengetzCircus. Quinnox sent his chargers toward this great horde offoot-soldiers, but they did not falter as he had expected. On theyswept, two or three thousand of them. At their head rode five or sixofficers. The foremost was Count Marlanx.
The cannons were booming now in the foothills. Marlanx, if he heardthem and realised what the bombardment meant, did not swerve from thepurpose at present in his mind.
Quinnox saw now that the Iron Count was determined to storm the gates,and gave the command to retreat. Waving their rifles and shoutingdefiance over their shoulders, the dragoons drew up, wheeled andgalloped toward the gates.
Truxton King afterward recalled to mind certain huge piles of freshearth in a corner of the common. He did not know what they meant at thetime of observation, but he was wiser inside of three minutes after thewhirlwind brigade dashed through the gates.
Scarcely were the massive portals closed and the great steel barsdropped into place by the men who attended them, when a low, dullexplosion shook the earth as if by volcanic force. Then came thecrashing of timbers, the cracking of masonry, the whirring of a thousandmissiles through the air. Before the very eyes of the stunned,bewildered defenders, dismounting near the parade ground, the huge gatesand pillars fell to the ground.
The gates have been dynamited!
Then it was that Truxton King remembered. Marlanx's sappers had beenquietly at work for days, drilling from the common to the gates. It wasa strange coincidence that Marlanx should have chosen this day for hisculminating assault on the Castle. The skirmish at daybreak had hurriedhis arrangements, no doubt, but none the less were his plans complete.The explosives had been laid during the night; the fuses reached to themouth of the tunnel, across the common. As he swept up the avenue at thehead of his command, hawk-faced and with glittering eyes, he snarled thecommand that put fire to the fuses. He was still a quarter of a mileaway when the gates crumbled. With short, shrill cries, scarcely humanin their viciousness, he urged his men forward. He and Brutus were thefirst to ride up to the great hole that yawned where the gates hadstood. Beyond they could see the distracted soldiers of the Princeforming in line to resist attack.
A moment later his vanguard streamed through the aperture and faced thedeadly fire from the driveway.
Like a stone wall the men under Quinnox stood their ground; a solid,defiant line that fired with telling accuracy into the struggling horde.On the walls two Gatling guns began to cackle their laugh of death. Andstill the mercenaries poured through the gap, forming in haphazard linesunder the direction of the maddened Iron Count.
At last they began to advance across the grassy meadow. When one manfell under the fire of the Guardsmen, another rushed into his place.Three times the indomitable Graustarkians drove them back, and as oftendid Marlanx drag them up again, exalted by the example he set.
"'Gad, he _is_ a soldier," cried Truxton, who had wasted a half dozenshots in the effort to bring him down. "Hello! There's my friend Brutus.He's no coward, either. Here's a try for you, Brutus."
He dropped to his knee and took deliberate aim at the frenzied henchman.The discovery that there were three bullets in Brutus's breast when hewas picked up long afterward did not affect the young man's contentionthat his was the one that had found the heart.
The fall of Brutus urged the Iron Count to greater fury. His horse hadbeen shot from under him. He was on his feet, a gaunt demon, his back tothe enemy, calling to his men to follow him as he moved toward thestubborn row of green and red. Bullets hissed about his ears, but hegave no heed to them. More than one man in the opposing force watchedhim as if fascinated. He seemed to be absolutely bullet-proof. Therewere times when he stumbled and almost fell over the bodies of his ownmen lying in the path.
By this time his entire force was inside the grounds. Colonel Quinnoxwas quick to see the spreading movement on the extreme right and left.Marlanx's captains were trained warriors. They were bent on flanking theenemy. The commander of the Guard gave the command to fall back slowlytoward the Castle.
Firing at every step, they crossed the parade ground and then made aquick dash for the shelter of the long balconies. They held thisposition for nearly an hour, resisting each succeeding charge of the nowdevilish foe. Time and again the foremost of the attacking party reachedthe terrace, only to wither under the deadly fire from behind thebalustrades. Marlanx, down in the parade ground, was fairly pushing hismen into the jaws of death. There was no question as to the courage ofthe men he commanded. These were not the ruffians from all over theworld. They were the reckless, devil-may-care mountaineers and robbersfrom the hills of Graustark itself.
Truxton King's chance to pay his debt to Vos Engo came after one of thefiercest, most determined charges. The young Count, who had transferredhis charges from the old tower to the strong north wing of the Castle,had been fighting desperately in the front rank for some time. Hisweakness seemed to have disappeared entirely. As the foe fell back inthe face of the desperate resistance, Vos Engo sprang down the stepsand rushed after them, calling others to join him in the attempt tocomplete the rout. Near the edge of the terrace he stopped. His leg gaveway under him and he fell to the ground. Truxton saw him fall.
He leaped over the low balustrade, dropping his hot rifle, and dashedacross the terrace to his rival's assistance. A hundred men sho
t at him.Vos Engo was trying to get to his feet, his hand upon his thigh; he wasgroaning with pain.
"It's my turn," shouted the American. "I'll square it up if I can. Thenwe're even!"
He seized the wounded man in his strong arms, threw him over hisshoulder and staggered toward the steps.
"Release me, damn you!" shrieked Vos Engo, striking his rescuer in theface with his fist.
"I'm saving you for another day," said King as he dropped behind thebalustrade, with his burden safe. A wild cheer went up from the lips ofthe defenders, scornful howls from the enemy.
"I pray God it may be deferred until I am capable of defending myself,"groaned Vos Engo, glaring at the other with implacable hatred in hiseyes.
"You might pray for my preservation, too, while you're at it," saidTruxton, as he crept away to regain his rifle.
There were other witnesses to Truxton's rash act. In a lofty window ofthe north wing crouched a white-faced girl and a grim old man. Thelatter held a rifle in his tense though feeble hands. They had beenthere for ten minutes or longer, watching the battle from their eerieplace of security. Now and then the old man would sight his rifle andfire. A groan of anger and dismay escaped his lips after each attempt tosend his bullet to the spot intended. The girl who crouched beside himwas there to designate a certain figure in the ever-changing mass ofhumanity on the bloody parade ground. Her clear eyes sought for andfound Marlanx; her unwavering finger pointed him out to the oldmarksman.
She saw Vos Engo fall. Then a tall, well-known figure sprang into view,dashing toward her wounded lover. Her heart stopped beating. The bloodrushed to her eyes. Everything before her turned red--a horrid, blurringred. With her hands to her temples, she leaned far over the window ledgeand screamed--screamed words that would have filled Truxton King with anendless joy could he have heard them above the rattle of the rifles.
"A brave act!" exclaimed the old man at her side. "Who is he?"
But she did not hear him. She had fallen back and was gaspingsupplication, her eyes set upon the old man's face with a stare thatmeant nothing.
The corner of the building had shut out the picture; it was impossiblefor her to know that the man and his burden had reached the balcony insafety. Even now, they might be lying on the terrace, riddled bybullets. The concentrated aim of the enemy had not escaped her horrifiedgaze. The cheering did not reach her ears.
The old man roused her from the stupor of dread. He called her nameseveral times in high, strident tones. Dully she responded. Standingbolt upright in the window she sought out the figure of Marlanx, andpointed rigidly.
"Ah," groaned the old man, "they will not be driven back this time! Theywill not be denied. It is the last charge! God, how they come! Our menwill be annihilated in--Where is he? Now! Ah, I see! Yes, that is he!He is near enough now. I cannot miss him!"
Marlanx was leading his men up to the terrace. A howling avalanche ofhumanity, half obscured by smoke, streamed up the slope.
At the top of the terrace, the Iron Count suddenly stopped. His longbody stiffened and then crumpled like a reed. A score of heavy feettrampled on the fallen leader, but he did not feel the impact.
A bullet from the north wing had crashed into his brain.
"At last!" shrieked the old man at the window. "Come, Miss Tullis; mywork is done."
"He is dead, your Grace?" in low, awed tones.
"Yes, my dear," said the Duke of Perse, a smile of relief on his face."Come, let me escort you to the Prince. You have been most courageous.Graustark shall not forget it. Nor shall I ever cease thanking you forthe service you have rendered to me. I have succeeded in freeing myunhappy daughter from the vile beast to whom I sold her youth and beautyand purity. Come! You must not look upon that carnage!"
Together they left the little room. As they stepped into the narrow hallbeyond they realised that the defenders had been driven inside the wallsof the Castle. The crash of firearms filled the halls far below; adeafening, steady roar came up to them.
"It is all over," said the Duke of Perse, hobbling across the hall andthrowing open the door to a room opposite.
A group of terrified women were huddled in the far corner of thespacious room. In front of them was the little Prince, a look of terrorin his eyes, but with the tiny sword clutched in his hand--a patheticfigure of courage and dread combined. The Duke of Perse held open thedoor for Loraine Tullis, but she did not enter. When he turned to call,she was half way down the top flight of stairs, racing through thepowder smoke toward the landing below.
At every step she was screaming in the very agony of gladness:
"Stand firm! Hold them! Help is coming! Help is coming!"
A last look through the window at the end of the hail had revealed toher the most glorious of visions.
Red and green troops were pouring through the dismantled gateway, theirhorses surging over the ugly ground-rifts and debris as if possessed ofthe fabled wings.
She had seen the rear line in the storming forces hesitate and then turnto meet the whirlwind charge of the cavalrymen. Her brother was outthere and all was well. She was crying the joyous news from the head ofthe grand stairway when Truxton King caught sight of her.
Smoke writhed about her slim, inspiriting figure. Her face shone throughthe drab fog like an undimmed star of purest light. He bounded up thesteps toward her, drawn as by magnet against which there was no suchthing as resistance.
He was powder-stained and grimy; there was blood on his face and shirtfront.
"You are shot," she cried, clutching the post at the bend in the stairs."Truxton! Truxton!"
"Not even scratched," he shouted, as he reached her side. "It's notmy--" He stopped short, even as he held out his arms to clasp her to hisbreast. "It's some one else's blood," he finished resolutely. She swayedtoward him and he caught her in his arms.
"I love you--oh, I love you, Truxton!" she cried over and over again. Hewas faint with joy. His kisses spoke the adoration he would have criedout to her if emotion had not clogged his throat.
"Eric?" she whispered at last, drawing back in his arms and looking upinto his eyes with a great pity in her own. "Is he--is he dead,Truxton?"
"No," he said gently. "Badly hurt, but--"
"He will not die? Thank God, Truxton. He is a brave--oh, a very braveman." Then she remembered her mission into this whirlpool of danger."Go! Don't lose a moment, darling! Tell Colonel Quinnox that Jack hascome! The dragoons are--"
He did not hear the end of her cry. A quick, fierce kiss and he wasgone, bounding down the stairs with great shouts of encouragement.
Leaderless, between the deadly fires, the mercenaries gave up the fightafter a brief stand at the terrace. Six hundred horsemen ploughedthrough them, driving them to the very walls of the Castle. Here theybroke and scattered, throwing down their arms and shouting for mercy. Itwas all over inside of twenty minutes.
The Prince reigned again.
* * * * *
Nightfall brought complete restoration of order, peace and security inthe city of Edelweiss. Hundreds of lives had been lost in the terrificconflict of the early morning hours; hundreds of men lay on beds ofsuffering, crushed and bleeding from the wounds they had courted andreceived.
"I knowed we'd whip them," shouted the Prince, wriggling gleefully inJohn Tullis's straining embrace half an hour after the latter had riddenthrough the gate. Tears streamed down the big man's face. One arm heldthe boy, the other encircled the sister he had all but lost. In theMonastery of St. Valentine there was another woman, waiting for him tocome to her with the news of a glorious victory. Perhaps she was hopingand praying for the other news that he would bring her, who knows? If hecame to her with kisses, she would know without being told in so manywords.
Truxton did not again see Loraine until late in the afternoon. He hadoffered his services to Colonel Quinnox and had worked manfully in theeffort to provide comfort for the wounded of both sides. General Brazewas at work with his men in the open city, c
learing away the ugly signsof battle. The fortress and Tower were full of the prisoners of war.Baron Dangloss, pale, emaciated, sick but resolute, was free once moreand, with indomitable zeal, had thrown himself and his liberated men atonce into the work of rehabilitation.
It was on the occasion of the Baron's first visit to the Prince, late inthe day, that Truxton saw the girl he worshipped.
Prince Robin had sent for him to appear in the devastated state chamber.Publicly, in the presence of the Court and Ministry, the little rulerproclaimed him a baron and presented to him a great seal ring from amongthe ancient crown jewels.
"Say, Mr. King," said Bobby, after he had called the American quiteclose to him by means of a stealthy crooking of his finger, "would youmind giving me my lucky stone? I don't think you'll need it any longer.I will, I'm sure. You see a prince has such a lot of things to troublehim. Wars and murders and everything."
"Thank you, Prince Robin," said King, placing the stone in the littlehand. "I couldn't have got on without it. May it always serve you aswell."
"Noblesse oblige, Baron," said Prince Robin gravely.
"Hello!" in an excited whisper. "Here's Baron Dangloss. He's been in hisown gaol!"
Truxton withdrew. Near the door he met Loraine. She had just entered theroom. There was a bright look of relief in her eyes.
"Count Vos Engo has asked for you, Truxton," she said in a low voice. Adelicate flush crept into her cheeks; a sudden shyness leaped into hereyes, and she looked away.
"Loraine, have you told him?"
"Yes. I am so sorry for him. He is one of the bravest men I have everknown, Truxton dear. And, as it is with all men of his race, love knewno reason, no compromise. But I have made him see that I--that I cannotbe his wife. He knows that I love you."
"Somehow, darling, I'm sorry for him."
"He will not pretend friendship for you, dear," she went on painfully."He only wants to thank you and to apologise, as you did, not so longago. And he wants to ask you to release him from a certain obligation."
"You mean our--our fight?"
"Yes. He is to lose his right arm, Truxton. You understand how it iswith him now."
Truxton King: A Story of Graustark Page 22