A prince of lovers

by Sir William Magnay

Ompertz sprang down in no very amiable mood, but had tact enough to keep his muttered comments to himself.

The head man, whom his subordinates addressed as Gronhartz, now, as they walked on and he had gained his point, became by contrast surprisingly affable. He began to talk almost volubly of the life in the mountains, of sport, of the Count’s prowess as a hunter, and recounted several remarkable feats of strength his master had performed. The fellow talked fast, with an evident eagerness to allow no pause in the one-sided conversation. He had certainly said more in the last few minutes than in all the earlier and longer portion of their walk, when, having doubled the rocky angle and turned up the second and steeper gorge, they came in sight of the carriage, standing as they had left it, lopsided, with one axle on the ground.

Now a startling thing happened.

As they came to within about fifty paces of the carriage, Gronhartz suddenly broke off his talk and stopped, turning back to speak to his two men, who were following a few steps behind. With a mere turn of his head, as the man dropped behind, Ludovic hurried on with Ompertz, in natural anxiety to ascertain the extent of the damage. Intent on the broken wheel, Ludovic noticed nothing else till, when within a few yards of the carriage, an exclamation from Ompertz made him look up quickly. Then came the startling whisper—

“There is someone inside!”

A swift glance in response showed Ludovic a movement inside the carriage, but of what he could not make out. Then he turned instinctively to the three men behind him. A slight jutting out of the rocky wall half hid them from where he stood. He made a quick step aside to get them in full view. In the same instant a shot rang out from the carriage, and a bullet touched his shoulder. But for that chance spring to one side it must have gone through him. Then there came a great cry of rage and surprise from Ompertz, simultaneously with a second shot, and, before Ludovic had quite realized what was happening, his companion had rushed to the carriage, fired his pistol through the window, and then, whipping out his sword, commenced a furious onslaught upon the half visible occupants.

“Treachery! Damnable treachery!” he shouted. “Look to yourself, sire. Shoot those other dogs down. I can manage these fellows.”

Already, at his warning, the three men who had accompanied them were rushing forward, the leader with a drawn sword, the others with short cutlasses. For an instant Ludovic was in doubt whether their rush was to be against him, or to oppose what might be some mountain desperadoes who had attacked them from the carriage. But in a moment he was undeceived. As the three men came upon him, there was no mistaking their intention. He gave one glance back to where Ompertz was slashing and thrusting through the carriage window, springing backwards and forwards with what, but for the action’s deadly seriousness, would have been antics comical in their intensity. He just had time to see a hand come through the window on the further side, then the door opened, and a ruffianly looking fellow stumbled out with drawn sword. The situation was critical. The reason of the treacherous attack might be a mystery, at all events it was real enough. The three were now closing upon Ludovic; the fourth, who had come out of the carriage, was dodging Ompertz and making to join them. Ludovic saw that another moment’s hesitation might mean death. At least one man’s life was in his hand, for he had a pistol. He levelled it at the chief, the man called Gronhartz, and shot him through the heart. Seeing him fall, the two with him slackened their pace and wavered. But, encouraged by the shout of the man from the carriage, who was now rushing with uplifted sword upon Ludovic, they came on again, and for a moment he was in extreme peril. But Ompertz, whose alertness had been checked by a fall on the slippery, uneven ground, was now at hand, coming up just as Ludovic found himself beset by two assailants in front and one behind. Could Ompertz get to him in time, before the three weapons should make their simultaneous thrusts? If not, it seemed that Ludovic must fall. The blades were now within a few feet of him, as he stood desperately swinging his own round, and Ompertz was yet some yards away. With a furious cry like a wild animal’s, the soldier rushed madly to the rescue. His great shout gained him a second or two as the man, the most dangerous of the three, who was threatening Ludovic from behind, half turned, and so had to check his rush. Then, seeing Ompertz was not quite so near as he had imagined, he went on again, and coming to close quarters, let drive at Ludovic. By almost miraculous good fortune, the King’s sword was sweeping round that way; it just caught and beat aside the deadly thrust. There was no time for a second in the same direction; the ruffian’s sword was now needed to meet that of Ompertz. When it came to a fair fight, man to man, he was no match for the soldier either in courage or skill. Ompertz knew that, with the odds still against them, no time was to be wasted in pretty fighting. Rapidly, with a furious onslaught, he drove his man back upon the shelving wall of the ravine, with the result that the fellow stumbled backwards, and, before he could recover himself, the unerring sword passed through him, and he went down with a groan, as Ompertz sprang to the King’s assistance.

Barely in time. For the slope, which had just been fatal to one of their enemies, was likewise placing Ludovic in great peril. With two men attacking him, he was forced to keep his back to the rocky wall, and, in consequence, could not spring backwards to avoid the furious double thrusts which were made at him. His two assailants were fighting desperately, more for their own skins now than for murder. When they saw their intended victim joined by Ompertz, his face like that of an enraged lion, his sword red with the blood of the man who lay a few paces away, where in his death agony he had rolled, such assassins’ courage as they had completely failed them; the certainty of their design’s failure seemed to paralyze their arms, and, before Ludovic had time to command his forbearance, Ompertz had run them both through, and they were writhing on the ground.

“Speak, you dog!” the soldier cried, holding his point to the throat of the one who seemed to have the more life in him. “Who set you on this devil’s work, the Count?”