CHAPTER VI.
Jonathan Edwards Bennett found himself in an uncomfortable predicament. He had solemnly promised to leave the kingdom at once, and he felt that the pledge he had given to the Princess Hilda implied an obligation upon his part to refrain from seeing Rudolph XII. again. On the other hand, he had no desire to risk his life in an effort to escape. That he was surrounded by enemies he could not doubt. He recalled the silhouette made by the conspirators against the moonlight, and it assumed a new significance to his mind as a black menace. To leave the castle at this moment would be to face mysterious perils that he had no wish to confront.
If he obeyed the command in the jester’s note he saw before him two unpleasant possibilities. If Cousin Fritz played him false, he might walk straight into the enemy’s trap. If, on the other hand, the king really awaited his coming, his recognition of the summons might look to Princess Hilda like treachery to her and disloyalty to his pledged word.
Bennett musingly approached a window and looked forth upon a scene that would have thrilled him, at a happier moment, with its calm beauty. The moon, now high in the heavens, smiled benignly upon a sleeping world. A gentle breeze whispered midnight gossip to the nodding tree-tops. Man and his restless passions seemed out of place in such surroundings. But suddenly upon Bennett’s astonished sight broke a vision that drove from his mind all idea of nature’s benignity and concentrated his thought upon the diabolical activity of man.
As if by magic, the castle seemed to be surrounded by dark forms moving hither and thither with a certain military precision. They appeared to come from the forest and to obey the will of some leader who had carefully matured his plans. Bennett opened the casement and leaned forward. He could hear the distant words of command and the subdued tramp of marching men. That he was wide awake he knew, but the inexplicable scene before him caused him for an instant to question his own sanity.
“Ha, you doubt my word?” whispered a rasping voice at the American’s elbow. “You imperil precious lives because, forsooth, you will not look upon the jester as a friend. Herr Bennett, let me tell you you are madder than your servant, Cousin Fritz.”
The dwarf chuckled with raucous merriment at his grim joke. Then he seized Bennett’s arm and drew him away from the window.
“There is no time to lose,” whispered the dwarf excitedly. “The king will not listen to reason. He refuses to admit that his crown, his castle, his very life are in peril at this hour. Come with me and tell him what you saw from yonder window. Then throw him a hand at poker for life or death, eh? We must be gay, Herr Bennett, even though Brother Wilhelm has placed his hand upon our sceptre and would hurl us from the throne. We must be gay, nicht wahr?”
In another moment Bennett and his madcap guide were hastening toward King Rudolph’s audience chamber.
“The Princess Hilda, and two or three of the king’s most loyal gentlemen you will find here,” said the dwarf, as they approached the king’s apartments. “I want you to persuade my Cousin Rudolph that he is backing a bobtailed flush against a full house. Isn’t that correct, Herr Bennett? A bobtailed flush against a full house?”
“But what is your plan,” asked Bennett feverishly. “Is this really an armed effort to dethrone the king?”
“It is indeed—an effort armed to the teeth. You and I, Herr Bennett, are the only loyal subjects left at this moment to Rudolph XII., one hour ago king of Hesse-Heilfels. I have been looking for an outbreak for some years back. I am used to them, Herr Bennett. During the thousand years I have passed as the real ruler of Hesse-Heilfels, I have seen many uprisings of the people, and I have learned to detect the preliminary symptoms. Wilhelm has played his cards well. He has waited until the time was ripe. Now he ‘calls,’ and Rudolph holds no hand.”
“And you, Cousin Fritz?” asked Bennett, marvelling at the strange creature at his side.
“And I? I remain true to Rudolph. I can afford to, Herr Bennett. Am I not, after all, the eternal king of Hesse-Heilfels? I was king before the Schwartzburgers came, and I shall reign when they are gone. I lose nothing by clinging to Rudolph’s falling state. And he has always been kind to Cousin Fritz! But let us hurry on, Herr Bennett. Every moment is now of value, if we would persuade the king that he must take to flight.”
Bennett stumbled forward through the dark corridor, clinging to the dwarf’s arm and wondering vaguely if the night’s adventures would never come to an end. It seemed to the American as if he had crowded into the space of a few brief hours an experience stolen in some mysterious way from a year in the life of a mediæval knight-errant. “We live by thoughts, not years; by heart-throbs, not in figures on a dial,” he murmured to himself as they reached the outer doors of the king’s audience chamber.
A striking tableau met their eyes as they passed from the gloom of the corridor into the lighted hall. King Rudolph, pale, dishevelled, wild-eyed, stood in the centre of the chamber, gazing helplessly at the two courtiers who had remained loyal to him on this night of Brother Wilhelm’s triumph. The Princess Hilda, her face white, but calm, stood by his side and seemed to be whispering words of comfort to the discomfited monarch.
As Rudolph’s eyes rested upon Bennett an expression of hope crossed his face.
“Is it true, Herr Bennett?” he cried. “Tell these men they lie. Tell them my castle is not infested by my brother’s friends! Tell them they dream wild dreams on a peaceful summer night. What means this wild scurrying to and fro? Speak, Herr Bennett. You, at least have not lost your wits.”
The American strove to catch Hilda’s eye, but the princess studiously avoided his gaze.
“Your majesty,” said Bennett solemnly, “I have seen from my windows a sight that convinces me you stand in great peril. I cannot doubt the evidence of my senses. This may be the end of the nineteenth century, but there appears to be a middle-age deviltry going on to-night, and you and I—if you will pardon my frankness—seem to be the victims.”
“You blunder there, Herr Bennett,” said the king, with a touch of dignity that was worthy of his royal pretensions. “You are the cause—I am the victim.”
Cousin Fritz had been dancing impatiently round the room.
“You waste time, Cousin Rudolph,” he cried recklessly. “You can’t stand here and put down a revolution by a royal edict. You don’t hold a card in your hand that is worth drawing to. Leave the table and the stakes to the winners and wait for better luck.”
King Rudolph, with a gesture of despair, turned toward the dwarf.
“Treachery from friends and wisdom from the mouths of fools! It’s all of a piece! Go on, Cousin Fritz! What do you suggest? Your advice is as valuable to-night as that of the men who have pushed me toward this precipice.” The king glanced pointedly at Bennett and the two loyal courtiers who lurked in the background.
“Your only chance, Cousin Rudolph,” said the dwarf coolly, stepping forward and bending his knee with solemn mockery before the king, “is to follow my guidance. Your guards have proved false, and within another ten minutes the hirelings of Wilhelm will be at yonder door. What will happen then, who can say? A brother who would seize your crown will not hesitate to take your life. But his lawlessness will not find favor long with the good people of Hesse-Heilfels. To-night they follow the lead of evil counsellors. To-morrow they will see the horror of their deeds. To-morrow, Cousin Rudolph, you will again be king in their hearts. To-night they serve your rival’s schemes.”
“But this is hardly to the point, Cousin Fritz,” said the king gently. “You may speak the truth, but to-morrow has not come. We must act, and act at once.”
“Follow me, then,” cried the dwarf, springing to his feet and seizing the hand of Princess Hilda. “Hark! Hear that? They are coming toward us. Quick now! There is no time to lose.”
Drawing the princess with him, Cousin Fritz disappeared behind a heavy curtain that concealed a portrait of a famous Schwartzburger, who had held the throne of Hesse-Heilfels nearly two centuries ago. When King Rudolph, Bennett, and the two courtiers drew the curtain aside, the portrait had disappeared and a black hole in the wall met their eyes. Out of the darkness came the voice of Cousin Fritz.
“Come on! Come on! Don’t stop to draw cards. This isn’t poker. Do you hear me? We aren’t playing jack-pots, your majesty. We’re making history.”
In another instant the curtain had fallen into place and the audience chamber remained lonely and silent in the half lights. Suddenly an uproar outside the heavy doors arose and into the room rushed a crowd of white-faced, eager men.
“Gott im Himmel! where is he?” cried a hoarse voice. And behind the curtain the Schwartzburger of other days smiled in the darkness—and remained silent.