So far all was well, but the most difficult and critical part of the business was yet to be faced. With all speed Ludwig and his followers made straightway for the palace and the barracks, which stood near together. By the time they arrived there it was evident that the bad news had been received; the palace was astir, and men were seen hurrying to and fro. Ludwig and his troops rode up to the main entrance, while Ompertz and half a dozen influential men turned aside to the barracks with a view of gaining over the soldiery by a sudden appeal. The great alarm bell began its frightful clanging; and as the soldiers sprang to arms, the party of Ludwig’s adherents presented themselves.
“Soldiers, your King has returned: King Ludwig,” cried Anton de Gayl. “He is even now at the palace doors, claiming his throne from the usurper. You are his soldiers, not Ferdinand’s; he looks to you to support him in right and truth and justice. Men, will you stand by him? He has the army of the Duke of Waldavia at his back, but he wants you; he relies on your loyalty and devotion. Say, are they his?”
From the windows could be seen the great square before the palace filled with troops and with a surging, shouting crowd, and, in the darkness, the real proportion of soldiers and citizens could not be distinguished. The men were taken by surprise, and evidently undecided. Suddenly a voice in the hall cried, “Long live King Ludwig!”
The effect was electrical, and, with a great cheer, the cry was echoed. De Gayl drew his sword.
“He is there, your rightful King,” he shouted excitedly; “there, on the threshold, claiming his throne. It is you, his own soldiers, his own countrymen, to whom he will look to seat him on it and maintain him there. Let Waldavians stand aside; this is the work and the privilege of Beroldsteiners. Come!”
He rushed out, and the men, with a cheer, caught up their arms and followed him.
In the meantime, Ludwig had advanced to the very door of the palace, which was hastily closed and barred against him. Then, by his orders, a blast was sounded, and a very stentor among his followers demanded admittance for Ludwig, the lawful King. As no reply was forthcoming, the order was given for the door to be forced. While this was in train, it was evident that the inmates of the palace were in a state of panic. And it was no wonder, with the whole square filled by what seemed a threatening crowd, and a strong body of troops at the very doors. Frantic messages were sent to the barracks for military aid; but it was too late, while only a handful of soldiers were within the palace and available. The main body was already outside and shouting for Ludwig.
The door was burst in with a crash, disclosing the brilliantly lighted vestibule filled with a desperate crowd of the usurper’s household. They offered no resistance, since it was clearly futile, as Ludwig, surrounded by a strong body-guard, entered, and passed triumphantly through to the state salon which lay beyond.
Here, in the midst of a group composed of his council, and adherents, whose drawn swords and militant attitudes contrasted oddly with their anxious, apprehensive faces, stood Ferdinand, haggard and desperate, yet with a look of defiant hatred in his eyes.
So the cousins met.