"Ah, sir, the day is lost," cried the man, as the monarch rode past; "the troops are all flying towards Brandeis; half the Hungarians drowned in the river; the infantry all in route; the cannon taken----." Frederic listened to no more, but still spurred on, dashing his horse through the guards at the outer gate, and gazing eagerly towards the hill.
Who was it coming so rapidly towards him, followed by half a dozen troopers and a single banner? Old Christian of Anhalt, bloody and dusty from the fight, where he had fought hand to hand; no hat upon his head, his grey hair streaming in the wind, his head bent sadly down almost to his horse's neck, and his hands grasping tightly the reins with a bitter and convulsive clasp.
"Anhalt!" cried the King.
"It is all lost, my lord, as I knew it would be," said the old soldier, in a low deep voice. "Back with us into Prague as fast as may be. The Bavarian is at our heels.--Let the walls be well manned, and the cannon pour forth their shot upon the enemy, if they come too near. Let the gates be closed, too; the fugitives are taking another way.--Your safety and the defence of Prague are now all we have to think of. We must have counsel with all speed.--You, gentlemen," he continued, turning to those who followed, "away to the Rath-house in the old town, as fast as you can ride; take measures with the magistrates for the sure guarding of the walls; and, hark you, Dillingen, gather every information you can of the temper of the people, and let the King hear at the Hradschin. You will find me there, in case of need.--Come, my lord, come; it is vain thinking of what cannot be remedied. The future, the future! still the future! We may make a good fight yet, if Mansfeld will but help--Not serve under me! Why, I will be his horseboy, if he will fight like a man.--Come, my lord.--Nay, nay, be not so cast down! 'Tis but a battle lost after all. I trust we shall see many such before we die, and win many a one to boot;" and grasping Frederic's hand kindly, he led, rather than followed, the Monarch back into the city, giving orders, as they passed the gates, that they should be closed and defended. The news had already spread through Prague that the royal army had been defeated. There were men who had seen the rout from a church steeple; the tale had been carried from mouth to mouth, and from house to house; there was scarce a babbling child who did not know it, and repeat it; and, as Frederic and his train passed by, almost every door had its group of men and women, who eyed him, some sadly, some sullenly--but few, if any, showed a mark of reverence. Some, especially where there was a cross over the door, suffered a half-suppressed grin to appear, as the unfortunate Prince rode by; and then went and talked in low tones to their neighbours, pointing significantly over the shoulder to the royal group. All that he saw made the young Monarch's heart more sad; and, when he reached the palace, he led the way straight to the ante-room of his wife's apartments.
The first person whom he met there was Agnes Herbert; but she saw that disaster and ruin were in his eyes, and she dared not ask any questions. Not a servant had been found in the court, or on the staircase, or in the hall below; and Frederic, turning to her, said in a sad but gentle tone, "I beseech you, lady, seek some of the people, and tell them to send us what counsellors they can find; above all, Dohna and Camerarius."
"Camerarius!" cried Christian of Anhalt, warmly; "we want counsel with men, not with weak and doubting subtle-wits like that.--Give us the Princess and Dohna.--Old Slick, I fancy, is dead; for I saw him charge desperately to rescue my poor boy, who is wounded and taken, I hear."
"Well, well," said Frederick; "send some one for Dohna, dear lady; and I will call the Queen.--Is your gallant son a prisoner, then, indeed?" he continued, grasping old Anhalt's hand.
"Never mind him," replied the soldier. "God will take care of him.--Let us have the Queen, my lord. Her courage and her wisdom now are worth a dozen other counsellors."
In the mean while, Agnes left the ante-room with her cheek deadly pale, and her heart feeling as cold as ice. There was a question she would fain have asked, but she dared not breathe it--a question which made her bosom feel heavy and her limbs shake, even when she put it to herself, "Where was Algernon Grey?" Oh, when she thought of him in that hour, how deep, how strong, how overpowering did she feel the love which she had so long concealed from her own eyes. She grasped the balustrade of the staircase for support; and, though she knew that each moment was precious, she paused at every step.--Had she gone forward, she would have fallen.
Suddenly, as she descended, she heard a clang as of an armed man springing to the ground at the door of the second court, which opened below. Then came a step in the stone hall at the foot of the stairs. Oh, how her heart beat; for the quick sure ear of love recognised the tread at once. She darted down the remaining steps. The next instant he was before her. She sprang forward, and, ere they knew what they did, she was clasped to his armed bosom.