“Horsemen coming fast! Quick! They may be after Her Highness. Quick, under the trees!”
They had scarcely taken cover, when the other party rode by at a quick pace. Four men, with a fifth at their head, riding in haste and looking neither to the right nor left. The figure of the leader was unmistakable.
“It is Count Irromar,” Ruperta exclaimed under her breath. “In pursuit of me.”
She was wrong. It was the Count, but he was not in search of her. He was riding post-haste to Beroldstein on business of his own.
CHAPTER XXVIII
AT THE USURPER’S COURT
IT was with considerable surprise that King Ferdinand of Drax-Beroldstein, as yet scarcely settled comfortably into his snatched dignity, heard that the notorious law-defier and outlaw, Count Irromar, was at the palace, asking for a private audience on business of the utmost importance. Had the King been a strong man, or one who felt his position unassailable, he would probably have handed the noble brigand over to his officers of justice, congratulating himself on getting the most troublesome and dangerous of his subjects so cheaply in his power. But Ferdinand was neither. He was a weak man who had been unable to resist the chance, urged upon him by designing favourites, to seize a crown which for the moment seemed to be left without a wearer, and, having put it on his head, was now trembling inwardly at his own temerity. He could afford to despise no man, and his only strength came not from within, but was forced on him by circumstances from without. It was almost a weak man’s strength of desperation; no one can be so strong by fits and starts as your thoroughly feeble character who dare not show his weakness.
Then there was the haunting mystery of Ludwig’s disappearance. At every waking moment, Ferdinand told himself that his cousin was surely dead, but in his dreams, he was alive and seeking retribution. In spite of the assurances of all his friends and flatterers, Ferdinand found himself doubting every one, from his ministers to the soldiery. He dreaded to read in every new-comer’s face the solution of the mystery, the end of his day. Still, he had cast his die, the boats were burned behind him—foolishly, he told himself, since he might, by constituting himself regent, have grasped the power clean-handed—and now, as it was, there seemed nothing for it but to assume a resolution which he had not, and to keep by force what treachery had won. It had all seemed so easy and desirable, this pursuit of power, this scheming for a throne, in the days of preparation; when suddenly the coup had to be made, and responsibility to be assumed, it was not so pleasant.
Doubtless it was a shrewd knowledge of the usurper’s character that gave Irromar confidence to put his head into the lion’s mouth. At the same time, he was well armed, both for attack and defence, with the knowledge he held.
On receiving the somewhat astounding message, Ferdinand hesitated. His first impulse was that of the bully; to order the arrest of this formidable outlaw. Then his chronic feeling of insecurity prompted him to hear what the visitor had to communicate. Such a man had not come boldly there without good reason, and he could easily be arrested after the interview. Accordingly, he gave orders for a guard to be in readiness and for the Count to be admitted to an audience.
With an affectation of homage which scarcely concealed his bold confidence, Irromar entered the royal presence, and, having bowed low, stood before the Usurper in the easy fearlessness of conscious power. Ferdinand had a set frown on his sharp, gambler’s face; he might as well have thought to melt a rock by frowning at it, as thereby to intimidate the strong, reckless nature confronting him. Perhaps he felt this, as, with an effort at self-assertion, he bid the Count say what had brought him thither.