“It was the Duke himself who has brought Ughtred of Tyrnaus here,” muttered one. “Yet his house is dark and empty, and no man has seen him.”
“There is something strange about it,” said another, “and I like not the wolf Domiloff at the shoulder of a Tyrnaus.”
“Please God, the son may not be like the father!”
“Let us see him,” cried another. “Come—shout!”
So the air shook with the roar of voices, and servants in the blue Tyrnaus livery came out upon the balcony of the brilliantly-lit palace and spread a carpet. But the man whom they longed to see lingered.
Domiloff argued with him in vain. He was unaccountably obstinate.
“It is the Duke of Reist who should stand by my side when first I speak to my people,” he declared, coolly. “It is he who brought me from England, not you. He must be my sponsor. If he is not here I will wait.”
Domiloff was naturally furious. He had been at considerable pains to insure the absence of Reist from the capital on this occasion, and his inopportune return would amount to a disaster. On the other hand, the populace were fast working themselves up into a state of frenzy. Let this man show himself, and the success of his coup was assured. It was unpardonable hesitation. He trembled with rage. In the King’s palace, in his own chamber, he had lost for the moment his hold upon this man. It was the one weak spot in his carefully thought-out scheme. It was the one contingency against which he was comparatively helpless.
“You are losing a golden opportunity, Prince,” he declared. “Your hesitation is a crime. The people are on fire to see you. They will shout you King with one voice. Give to Reist all the glory if you will, but, if you would win your kingdom, out on to the balcony and show yourself. Hear them!”
The roar of voices sounded like thunder from the street below. Brand smoked on stolidly.