“Your father will scarce wish to question the acts of his king,” said Maenck—“his king and the husband of his daughter.”
“What do you mean?” she cried.
“That before you are many hours older, your highness, you will be queen of Lutha.”
The Princess Emma turned toward her tardy escort that had just arrived upon the scene.
“This person has stopped me,” she said, “and will not permit me to continue toward Lustadt. Make a way for me; you are armed!”
Maenck smiled. “Both of them are my men,” he explained.
The girl saw it all now—the whole scheme to lure her to Blentz. Even then, though, she could not believe the king had been one of the conspirators of the plot.
Weak as he was he was still a Rubinroth, and it was difficult for a Von der Tann to believe in the duplicity of a member of the house they had served so loyally for centuries. With bowed head the princess turned her horse into the road that led toward Blentz. Half the troopers preceded her, the balance following behind.
Maenck wondered at the promptness of her surrender.
“To be a queen—ah! that was the great temptation,” he thought but he did not know what was passing in the girl’s mind. She had seen that escape for the moment was impossible, and so had decided to bide her time until a more propitious chance should come. In silence she rode among her captors. The thought of being brought to Blentz alive was unbearable.