The Puppet Crown

by Harold MacGrath

  CHAPTER XXV. THE FORTUNES OF WAR

  War! The whole city was in tumult. The guests were leaving the hotels,the timid were preparing to fly, and shopkeepers were putting up theirblinds and hiding their valuables; the parks and cafes were deserted.The railway booking office was crowded, and a babel of tongues quarreledfor precedence. The siege of Paris was but yesterday's news, andtourists did not propose to be walled in from the outer world. Somelooked upon the scene as a comic opera; others saw the tragedy of mensnarling at one another's throats.

  Two hundred gendarmes patrolled the streets; for in war time the dregsof a city float to the surface. Above the foreign legations flags rose,offering protection to all those who possessed the right to claim it.Less than four thousand troops had marched from the city that day, butthese were the flower of the army, consisting of two thousand foot, sixcannon and twelve hundred horse. Europe has always depended largelyon the cavalry, which in the past has been a most formidable engine inwarfare.

  With gay plumes and banners, glittering helmets and flashing cuirasses,they had gone forth to meet Madame and drive her back across the range.They had made a brave picture, especially the royal cuirassiers, whonumbered three hundred strong, and who were to fight not only for glory,but for bread. Fifty of them had been left behind to guard the palaces.

  In the royal bedchamber the king lay, all unconscious of the fateimpending. The brain had ceased to live; only a feeble pulse stirredirregularly. The state physician shook his head, and, from time to time,laid his fingers on the unfeeling wrist. To him it was a matter of a fewhours.

  But to the girl, whose face lay hidden in the counterpane, close to oneof those senseless hands, to her it was a matter of a breaking heart, ofeyes which could be no longer urged to tears, the wells having dried up.Dear God, she thought, how cruel it was! Her tried and trusted friend,the one playmate of her childhood, was silently slipping out of her lifeforever. Ah, what to her were crowns and kingdoms, aye, and even war?Her father dead, what mattered it who reigned? How she prayed that hemight live! They would go away together, and live in peace and quiet,undisturbed by the storms of intrigue.... It was not to be; he wasdying. She would be the wife of no man; her father, hovering in spiritabove her, would read her heart and understand. Dead, he would ask nosacrifice of her. Henceforth only God would be her king, and she wouldworship him in some sacred convent.

  The old valet, who had served his master from boyhood, stood in theanteroom and fumbled his lips, his faded eyes red with weeping. He waslosing the only friend he had. Elsewhere the servants wandered aboutrestlessly, waiting for news from the front, to learn if they, too, wereto join in the mad flight from the city. Few servants love masters inadversity. Self-interest is the keynote to their existences.

  In the east wing three men were holding a whispered consultation. Thefaces of two were pale and deep-lined; the face of the third expresseda mixture of condolence and triumph. These three gentlemen were thearchbishop, the chancellor and the Austrian ambassador. History has nottaken into account what passed between these three men, but subsequentevents proved that it signified disaster to one who dreamed of conquestand of power.

  Said the ambassador, rising: "After what has been said, his ImperialMajesty will, I can speak authoritatively, further discredit Walmoden;for I have this day received information from a reliable source whichprecludes any rehabilitation of that prince. My deepest sympathies arewith her Highness; his Majesty highly honored her unfortunate father.Permit me to bid you good day, for you know that the matter under myhand needs my immediate attention."

  When he had gone the prelate said: "My friend, our services to thekingdom are nearly over."

  "We are lost!" replied the chancellor. "The king is happy, indeed."

  "I find," said the prelate, "that we have been lost for ten years. Hadthis Englishman proved true, it would not have mattered; had PrinceFrederick arrived in time, still it would not have mattered. But aboveall, I was determined that Madame the duchess should not triumph. Theend was written ten years ago. How invincible is fate! How incontestibleits decrees!"

  In the lower town the students were preparing a riot, which was to takeplace that night. Old Stuler's was thronged. Stuler himself looked onindifferently, even listlessly. He had heard of Kopf's death.

  It was half after five of the afternoon. Six miles beyond the Althofenbridge, in all thirteen miles from Bleiberg, a long, low cloud of dusthung over the king's highway. This cloud of dust was caused by thehurried, rhythmic pad-pad of human feet, the striking of hoofs andthe wheels of cannon. It marked the progress of an army. To the greatsurprise of the Marshal, the prince and the staff, they had pushed thusfar during the afternoon without seeing a sign of the enemy. Was Madameasleep? Was she so confident her projects were unknown that she hadchosen night as the time of her attack? Night, indeed, when the strengthof her forces would be a matter of conjecture to the assaulted, who atthe suddenness of her approach would succumb to panic! The prince wasjubilant and hopeful. He had no doubt that they would arrive at the passjust as Madame was issuing forth. This meant an easy victory, for oncethe guns covered the narrow pass, though Madame's army were ten times asstrong, its defeat was certain. A small force might hold it in check forhours.

  A squadron of cuirassiers had been sent forward to reconnoiter, and asyet none had returned with alarms. The road had many windings, and wasbillowed frequently with hills, and ran through small forests. Only thevast blue bulk of the mountains remained ever in view.

  "We shall drink at the Red Chateau to-night," said the prince, gaily, toMaurice.

  "That we shall," replied Maurice; "and the best in the cellars."

  Only the Marshal said nothing; he knew what war was. In his youth he hadserved in Transylvania, and he was not minded to laugh and jest. Then,too, there was injustice on both sides. Poor devil! as his thoughtsrecurred to the king. Touched for the moment by the wings of ambition,which is at best a white vulture, he had usurped another's throne, andto this end! But he was less answerable than the archbishop, who hadurged him.

  Occasionally he glanced back at the native troops, the foot, the horse,the artillery, and scowled. From these his glance wandered to the cold,impassive face of General Kronau, who rode at his side, and he rubbedhis nose. Kronau had been a favorite of Albrecht's... How would he act?In truth, the Marshal's thoughts were not altogether pleasant. Some ofthese men surrounding him, exchanging persiflage, might never witnessanother sunset. For, while the world would look upon this encounter asone looks upon a comedy, for some it would serve as tragedy. Often helent his ear to the gay banter of the young American, and watched thecareless smile on his face. What was he doing here? Why was he riskinghis life for no cause whatever, an alien, in natural sympathy neitherwith the kingdom nor with the duchy? A sad, grim smile parted his lips.

  "O, the urbanity of the young and the brave!" he murmured.

  Maurice felt the old familiar exhilaration--the soldier'sexhilaration--quicken the beat of his pulse. He did not ask himselfwhy he was here; he knew why. A delightful flower had sprung up in hisheart, and fate had nipped it. Whither this new adventure would leadhim he cared not. From now on life for him must be renewed by continualchange and excitement. Since no one depended on him, his life was histo dispose of as he willed. Friends? He laughed. He knew the world toowell. He himself was his best friend, for he had always been true tohimself.

  He might be shot, but he had faced that possibility before. Besides,to-day's experience would be new to him. He had never witnessed a battlein the open, man to man, in bright, resplendent uniforms. A ragged,dusty troop of brown-skinned men in faded blue, with free and easyhats, irregular of formation, no glory, no brilliancy, skirmishingwith outlawed white men and cunning Indians, that was the extent of hisknowledge by experience. True, these self-same men in dingy blue foughtwith a daring such as few soldiers living possessed; but they lacked theideal picturesqueness which made this army so attractive.

  The sharp edges of his recent fatigue
were not yet dulled, but hiscuirass sat lightly upon him, the sound of the dangling saber at hisside smote pleasantly his ear, and the black Mecklenberg under himwas strong and active. To return to Madame's chateau in the guise of aconqueror was a most engaging thought. She had humbled his self-love,now to humble hers! He no longer bothered himself about Beauvais, whosecase he had placed in the hands of the Austrian ambassador.

  Gay and debonair he rode that late September afternoon. No man aroundhim had so clear an eye nor so constant a vivacity. Since he had nothingbut his life to lose, he had no fear. Let the theater be full of lightwhile the play lasted, and let the curtain fall to a round of huzzas!For a few short hours ago he had kissed a woman's hand and had lookedinto her sad brown eyes. "Why you do this I do not know, nor shall Iask. Monsieur, my prayers go with you." Was not that an amulet? Hisdiplomatic career! He fell to whistling.

  "Ah! que j'aime les militaires!"

  More than once the prince felt the sting of envy in his heart at thesight of this embodiment of supreme nonchalance. It spoke of a healthysalt in the veins, a salt such as kings themselves can not always boastof. A foreigner, a republican? No matter; a gallant man.

  "Monsieur," he said impulsively, "you shall always possess myfriendship, once we are well out of this."

  "Thanks, your Highness," replied Maurice, and laughing; "theafter-thought is timely!"

  The sun lay close to the western rim of hills; an opal sky encompassedthe earth; the air was balmy.

  "The French call this St. Martin's summer," said Maurice. "In my countrywe call it Indian summer--ah!" lifting in his stirrups.

  The army was approaching a hill, when suddenly a whirlwind of dustrolled over the summit, and immediately a reconnoitering patrol camedashing into view, waving their sabers aloft.... The enemy was less thana mile away, and advancing rapidly.

  To anticipate. Madame the duchess had indeed contemplated striking theblow at night. That morning, like the brave Amazon she was, she hadpitched her tent in the midst of her army, to marshal and direct itsforces. It was her intention to be among the first to enter Bleiberg;for she was a soldier's daughter, and could master the inherent fears ofher sex.

  That same morning a woman entered the lines and demanded an audience.What passed between her and Madame the duchess others never knew. Shehad also been apprised of the prisoners' escape, but, confident thatthey would not be able to make a crossing, she disdained pursuit. Theprince had missed his wedding day; he was no longer of use to her. As tothe American, he would become lost, and that would be the end of him.

  But the Englishman.... He was conscience eternally barking at her heels.The memory of that kiss still rankled in her mind, and not an hour wentby in which she did not chide herself for the folly. How to get rid ofhim perplexed her. Here he was, in the uniform of a Lieutenant-Colonel,ready to go to any lengths at a sign from her. There was something inher heart which she had not yet analyzed. First of all, her crown; as toher heart, there was plenty of time in which to study that peculiar andunstable organ. The possibility of the prince's arriving in Bleibergbefore her in no way disturbed her. Whenever her attack was made,failure would not attend it. She broke camp at two o'clock and took theroad leisurely toward Bleiberg.

  Thus, the two armies faced each other comparatively in the open. Abattle hung in the air.

  The king's forces came to an abrupt halt. Orderlies dashed to and fro.The artillery came rumbling and creaking to the front, wheeled, the gunsunlimbered and ranged so as to enfilade the road. The infantry deployedto right and left while the cavalry swung into position on the flanks.All this was accomplished with the equanimity of dress parade. Mauricecould not control his admiration. Madame, he thought, might win hercrown, but at a pretty cost.

  The Marshal and the staff posted themselves on the right breast of thehill, from whence, by the aid of binoculars, they could see the enemy.From time to time General Kronau nervously smoothed his beard, formedhis lips into words, but did not utter them, and glanced slyly fromthe corner of his eye at the Marshal, who was intent on the enemy'sapproach. Maurice was trying with naked eye to pierce the forest and therolling ground beyond, and waiting for the roar of the guns.

  Orders had been issued for the gunners to get the range and commencefiring; but as the gunners seemed over long in getting down to work,Maurice gazed around impatiently. The blood rushed into his heart. Forthis is what he saw: the infantry leaning indolently on their guns,their officers snipping the grasses with their swords; the cuirassiershidden in the bulk of the native cavalry; artillerymen seated carelesslyon the caissons, and the gunners smoking and leaning against the guns.All action was gone, as if by magic; nothing but a strange tableauremained! Moreover, a troop of native cavalry, which, for no apparentreason, had not joined the main body, had closed in on the generalstaff. Appalled by a sudden thought, Maurice touched the prince, wholowered his glasses and turned his head. Bewilderment widened his eyes,and the flush on his cheeks died away. He, too, saw.

  "Devil's name!" the Marshal burst forth, "why don't the blockheadsshoot? The enemy--" He stopped, his chin fell, for, as he turned, asingle glance explained all to him. The red on his face changed intoa sickly purple, and the glasses slipped from his hands and broke intopieces on the stony ground.

  "Marshal," began General Kronau, "I respect your age and valiantservices. That is why we have come thirteen miles. You may keep yoursword, and also Monsieur the prince. For the present you are prisoners."

  For a moment the Marshal was stupefied. His secret fears had beenrealized. Suddenly a hoarse oath issued from his lips, he dragged hissaber from the scabbard, raised it and made a terrible sweep at theGeneral. But the stroke fell on a dozen intervening blades, and theMarshal's arms were held and forced to his sides.

  "Kronau... you?" he roared. "Betrayed! You despicable coward andtraitor! You--" But speech forsook him, and he would have fallen fromthe horse but for those who held his arms.

  "Traitor?" echoed Kronau, coolly. "To what and to whom? I am serving mytrue and legitimate sovereign. I am also serving humanity, since thisbattle is to be bloodless. It is you who are the traitor. You sworeallegiance to the duke, and that allegiance is the inheritance of thedaughter. How have you kept your oath?"

  But the Marshal was incapable of answer. One looking at him would havesaid that he was suffering from a stroke of apoplexy.

  "I admit," went on the General, not wholly unembarrassed, "that thepart I play is not an agreeable one to me, but it is preferable to theneedless loss of human life. The duchess was to have entered Bleibergat night, to save us this present dishonor, if you persist in callingit such. But his Highness, who is young, and Monseigneur the archbishop,who dreams of Richelieu, made it impossible. No harm is intended to anyone."

  The prince, white and shivering as if with ague, broke his sword on thepommel of the saddle and hurled the pieces at Kronau, who permitted themto strike him.

  "God's witness," the prince cried furiously, "but your victory shallbe short-lived. I have an army, trusty to the last sword, and you shallfeel the length of its arm within forty-eight hours."

  "Perhaps," said Kronau, shrugging.

  "It is already on the way."

  "Your Highness forgets that Carnavia belongs to the confederation, andthat the king, your father, dare not send you troops without the consentof the emperor, which, believe me, will never be given;" and he urgedhis horse down the slope.

  The army of the duchess had now gained the open. The advance wascomposed of cavalry, which came along the road with wings on eitherside, and with great dash and splendor.

  A noisy cheer arose, to be faintly echoed by the oncoming avalanche ofwhite horses and dazzling blue uniforms.

  This was the incident upon which Madame the duchess relied.

  With rage and chagrin in his heart, Maurice viewed the scene. The knellof the Osians had been struck. He gazed forlornly at the cuirassiers;they at least had come to sell their lives honestly for their bread.Presently the two armies came toge
ther; all was confusion and cheers.Kronau approached the leader of the cavalry.... Maurice was greatlydisturbed. He leaned toward the prince.

  "Your Highness," he whispered, "I am going to make a dash for the road."

  "Yes, yes!" replied the prince, intuitively. "My God, yes! Warn her tofly, so that she will not be compelled to witness this cursed woman'striumph. Save her that humiliation. Go, and God be with you, my friend!We are all dishonored. The Marshal looks as if he were dying."

  The native troopers, in their eagerness to witness the meeting betweenKronau and the former Colonel of the cuirassiers, had pushed forward. Adozen, however, had hemmed in the Marshal, the prince and Maurice. Butthese were standing in their stirrups. Maurice gradually brought hishorse about so that presently he was facing north. Directly in front ofhim was an opening. He grasped his saber firmly and pressed the spurs.Quick as he was, two sabers barred his way, but he beat them aside, wentdiagonally down the hill, over the stone wall and into the road.

  While he was maneuvering for this dash, one man had been eying him withsatisfaction. As the black horse suddenly sank from view behind thehill, Beauvais, to the astonishment of Kronau, drew his revolver.

  "There goes a man," he cried, "who must not escape. He is so valuablethat I shall permit no one but myself to bring him back!" And thesplendid white animal under him bounded up the hill and down the otherside.

  Beauvais had a well-defined purpose in following alone. He wasdetermined that one Maurice Carewe should not bother anyone hereafter;he knew too much.

  The white horse and the black faded away in the blur of rising dust.