A Dash for a Throne

by Arthur W. Marchmont

"Again, as my uncle's death is so recent, it will not be seemly—indeed, it is impossible—for my cousin's marriage with the Count von Nauheim to take place until after she is on the throne—unless, indeed, all matters are postponed until a sufficient interval takes place."

I counted much on this stroke, and that it was a shrewd one was instantly apparent. It was, indeed, nothing less than a sharp test of the loyalty of every man present, and it started warm discussion among them all, several protests being made.

The avowed object of the marriage was to cement the co-operation of the powerful section of which Baron Heckscher was the head, by securing half the royal power to their representative; but the secret motive, as I knew, was to render Minna personally unfit to be Queen. Thus to postpone the marriage until after she was actually on the throne seemed on the surface to destroy the very pith of the inner plot, and so to wreck the Ostenburg plans altogether. Hence those who were for that interest felt bound to oppose the suggestion, while those who were genuinely for us would admit its reasonableness. To the one side it meant failure, and to the other, at the worst, mere postponement; and my object was thus to detach the latter and see who were really our friends. To my dismay there were but two in the room, and these the least influential; but I marked them closely while I stuck doggedly to my point.

It was the Baron Heckscher who came to the rescue.

"I have been waiting to hear the general opinion," he said—he had been sitting rapt in deep thought—"and I do not see there is any solid objection to the condition. We are all aware that this marriage, like most Court nuptials, has been arranged for certain definite purposes"—and he glanced round the room with an effect I did not fail to observe. "And if proper guarantees of these purposes are afforded, I do not see any objection. We are merely gaining the same end by slightly different means. As Count von Nauheim carries certain interests on his shoulders in the marriage, all we have to see is that those interests are protected."

It was most adroitly wrapped up, but I knew too much to be deceived; and as I had now gained my end—the separation of the sheep from the wolves in this assorted pack—I said no more than to agree that any desired guarantees should be given.

"The other condition is perhaps fanciful, as it is certainly personal," I said, "and it is somewhat connected with that which we have just discussed. My cousin, the Countess Minna, cannot, of course, go forward in a hazardous work of this kind, now we are agreed the marriage must be postponed, without a male relative to guide and counsel her. And as we Grambergs have been so unfortunate as to lose two prominent members, there is only myself remaining. One of us, my cousin Gustav, certainly lost his life in this cause, through the treachery of the Ostenburg agents, and therefore we look to you all—I look to you all, gentlemen"—and here I raised my voice slightly—"to secure me against an attack from any source that may threaten my life. I know I do not count on you in vain, because you are all loyal to the cause; but there is an additional and very special reason for my thus calling on you. Upon my life and safety the continuance or end of this scheme depends, so far as my cousin Minna is concerned. You may need to redouble your vigilance against our enemies, and to strain your efforts to the utmost to anticipate and prevent attacks upon me; but understand quite clearly that if you suffer me to be attacked and to fall, at that moment my cousin will withdraw from the scheme, and openly abandon all claim to the throne."

The disconcerting effect of this short speech was profound.

A dead silence fell on the room for a few moments, and I am bound to confess that I enjoyed immensely the general consternation. It appeared to me the strongest confirmation I could have had of the existence of a plot against my life, and that this move of mine was regarded as a checkmate. But I shut out of my face every expression save one of a kind of friendly expectation of personal assurances of agreement.

"Why I paused before replying, Prince," said Baron Heckscher presently, "was merely that, while I am confident there is not a man in the room, nor among all the thousands for whom we can speak, who would not cheerfully risk his life in defence of one so valuable—indeed, so essential—to the cause and the country as your own, it is a little difficult for us to pledge ourselves to abandon a cause for which we have made such sacrifices, and incurred such tremendous personal risks, should accident intervene to harm you."