THE TRAITOR KING
In his castle at Lustadt, Leopold
of Lutha paced nervously back and forth between his
great desk and the window that overlooked the royal
gardens. Upon the opposite side of the desk stood
an old man a tall, straight, old man with
the bearing of a soldier and the head of a lion.
His keen, gray eyes were upon the king, and sorrow
was written upon his face. He was Ludwig
von der Tann, chancellor of the kingdom
of Lutha.
At last the king stopped his pacing
and faced the old man, though he could not meet those
eagle eyes squarely, try as he would. It was
his inability to do so, possibly, that added to his
anger. Weak himself, he feared this strong man
and envied him his strength, which, in a weak nature,
is but a step from hatred. There evidently had
been a long pause in their conversation, yet the king’s
next words took up the thread of their argument where
it had broken.
“You speak as though I had no
right to do it,” he snapped. “One
might think that you were the king from the manner
with which you upbraid and reproach me. I tell
you, Prince von der Tann, that I shall stand
it no longer.”
The king approached the desk and pounded
heavily upon its polished surface with his fist.
The physical act of violence imparted to him a certain
substitute for the moral courage which he lacked.
“I will tell you, sir, that
I am king. It was not necessary that I consult
you or any other man before pardoning Prince Peter
and his associates. I have investigated the matter
thoroughly and I am convinced that they have been
taught a sufficient lesson and that hereafter they
will be my most loyal subjects.”
He hesitated. “Their presence
here,” he added, “may prove an antidote
to the ambitions of others who lately have taken it
upon themselves to rule Lutha for me.”
There was no mistaking the king’s
meaning, but Prince Ludwig did not show by any change
of expression that the shot had struck him in a vulnerable
spot; nor, upon the other hand, did he ignore the
insinuation. There was only sorrow in his voice
when he replied.
“Sire,” he said, “for
some time I have been aware of the activity of those
who would like to see Peter of Blentz returned to favor
with your majesty. I have warned you, only to
see that my motives were always misconstrued.
There is a greater power at work, your majesty, than
any of us greater than Lutha itself.
One that will stop at nothing in order to gain its
ends. It cares naught for Peter of Blentz, naught
for me, naught for you. It cares only for Lutha.
For strategic purposes it must have Lutha. It
will trample you under foot to gain its end, and then
it will cast Peter of Blentz aside. You have
insinuated, sire, that I am ambitious. I am.
I am ambitious to maintain the integrity and freedom
of Lutha.
“For three hundred years the
Von der Tanns have labored and fought for
the welfare of Lutha. It was a Von der
Tann that put the first Rubinroth king upon the throne
of Lutha. To the last they were loyal to the
former dynasty while that dynasty was loyal to Lutha.
Only when the king attempted to sell the freedom of
his people to a powerful neighbor did the Von
der Tanns rise against him.
“Sire! the Von der
Tanns have always been loyal to the house of Rubinroth.
And but a single thing rises superior within their
breasts to that loyalty, and that is their loyalty
to Lutha.” He paused for an instant before
concluding. “And I, sire, am a Von
der Tann.”
There could be no mistaking the old
man’s meaning. So long as Leopold was
loyal to his people and their interests Ludwig
von der Tann would be loyal to Leopold.
The king was cowed. He was very much afraid of
this grim old warrior. He chafed beneath his censure.
“You are always scolding me,”
he cried irritably. “I am getting tired
of it. And now you threaten me. Do you call
that loyalty? Do you call it loyalty to refuse
to compel your daughter to keep her plighted troth?
If you wish to prove your loyalty command the Princess
Emma to fulfil the promise you made my father command
her to wed me at once.”
Von der Tann looked the king straight in
the eyes.
“I cannot do that,” he
said. “She has told me that she will kill
herself rather than wed with your majesty. She
is all I have left, sire. What good would be
accomplished by robbing me of her if you could not
gain her by the act? Win her confidence and love,
sire. It may be done. Thus only may happiness
result to you and to her.”
“You see,” exclaimed the
king, “what your loyalty amounts to! I
believe that you are saving her for the impostor I
have heard as much hinted at before this. Nor
do I doubt that she would gladly connive with the
fellow if she thought there was a chance of his seizing
the throne.”
Von der Tann paled.
For the first time righteous indignation and anger
got the better of him. He took a step toward the
king.
“Stop!” he commanded.
“No man, not even my king, may speak such words
to a Von der Tann.”
In an antechamber just outside the
room a man sat near the door that led into the apartment
where the king and his chancellor quarreled.
He had been straining his ears to catch the conversation
which he could hear rising and falling in the adjoining
chamber, but till now he had been unsuccessful.
Then came Prince Ludwig’s last words booming
loudly through the paneled door, and the man smiled.
He was Count Zellerndorf, the Austrian minister to
Lutha.
The king’s outraged majesty
goaded him to an angry retort.
“You forget yourself, Prince
von der Tann,” he cried. “Leave
our presence. When we again desire to be insulted
we shall send for you.”
As the chancellor passed into the
antechamber Count Zellerndorf rose and greeted him
warmly, almost effusively. Von der Tann
returned his salutations with courtesy but with no
answering warmth. Then he passed on out of the
palace.
“The old fox must have heard,”
he mused as he mounted his horse and turned his face
toward Tann and the Old Forest.
When Count Zellerndorf of Austria
entered the presence of Leopold of Lutha he found
that young ruler much disturbed. He had resumed
his restless pacing between desk and window, and as
the Austrian entered he scarce paused to receive his
salutation. Count Zellerndorf was a frequent
visitor at the palace. There were few formalities
between this astute diplomat and the young king; those
had passed gradually away as their acquaintance and
friendship ripened.
“Prince Ludwig appeared angry
when he passed through the antechamber,” ventured
Zellerndorf. “Evidently your majesty found
cause to rebuke him.”
The king nodded and looked narrowly
at the Austrian. “The Prince von der
Tann insinuated that Austria’s only wish in connection
with Lutha is to seize her,” he said.
Zellerndorf raised his hands in well-simulated horror.
“Your majesty!” he exclaimed.
“It cannot be that the prince has gone to such
lengths to turn you against your best friend, my emperor.
If he has I can only attribute it to his own ambitions.
I have hesitated to speak to you of this matter, your
majesty, but now that the honor of my own ruler is
questioned I must defend him.
“Bear with me then, should what
I have to say wound you. I well know the confidence
which the house of Von der Tann has enjoyed
for centuries in Lutha; but I must brave your wrath
in the interest of right. I must tell you that
it is common gossip in Vienna that Von der
Tann aspires to the throne of Lutha either for himself
or for his daughter through the American impostor
who once sat upon your throne for a few days.
And let me tell you more.
“The American will never again
menace you he was arrested in Burgova as
a spy and executed. He is dead; but not so are
Von der Tann’s ambitions. When
he learns that he no longer may rely upon the strain
of the Rubinroth blood that flowed in the veins of
the American from his royal mother, the runaway Princess
Victoria, there will remain to him only the other
alternative of seizing the throne for himself.
He is a very ambitious man, your majesty. Already
he has caused it to become current gossip that he
is the real power behind the throne of Lutha that
your majesty is but a figure-head, the puppet of Von
der Tann.”
Zellerndorf paused. He saw the
flush of shame and anger that suffused the king’s
face, and then he shot the bolt that he had come to
fire, but which he had not dared to hope would find
its target so denuded of defense.
“Your majesty,” he whispered,
coming quite close to the king, “all Lutha is
inclined to believe that you fear Prince von der
Tann. Only a few of us know the truth to be the
contrary. For the sake of your prestige you must
take some step to counteract this belief and stamp
it out for good and all. I have planned a way hear
it.
“Von der Tann’s
hatred of Peter of Blentz is well known. No man
in Lutha believes that he would permit you to have
any intercourse with Peter. I have brought from
Blentz an invitation to your majesty to honor the
Blentz prince with your presence as a guest for the
ensuing week. Accept it, your majesty.
“Nothing could more conclusively
prove to the most skeptical that you are still the
king, and that Von der Tann, nor any other,
may not dare to dictate to you. It will be the
most splendid stroke of statesmanship that you could
achieve at the present moment.”
For an instant the king stood in thought.
He still feared Peter of Blentz as the devil is reputed
to fear holy water, though for converse reasons.
Yet he was very angry with Von der Tann.
It would indeed be an excellent way to teach the presumptuous
chancellor his place.
Leopold almost smiled as he thought
of the chagrin with which Prince Ludwig would receive
the news that he had gone to Blentz as the guest of
Peter. It was the last impetus that was required
by his weak, vindictive nature to press it to a decision.
“Very well,” he said, “I will go
tomorrow.”
It was late the following day that
Prince von der Tann received in his castle
in the Old Forest word that an Austrian army had crossed
the Luthanian frontier the neutrality of
Lutha had been violated. The old chancellor set
out immediately for Lustadt. At the palace he
sought an interview with the king only to learn that
Leopold had departed earlier in the day to visit Peter
of Blentz.
There was but one thing to do and
that was to follow the king to Blentz. Some action
must be taken immediately it would never
do to let this breach of treaty pass unnoticed.
The Serbian minister who had sent
word to the chancellor of the invasion by the Austrian
troops was closeted with him for an hour after his
arrival at the palace. It was clear to both these
men that the hand of Zellerndorf was plainly in evidence
in both the important moves that had occurred in Lutha
within the past twenty-four hours the luring
of the king to Blentz and the entrance of Austrian
soldiery into Lutha.
Following his interview with the Serbian
minister Von der Tann rode toward Blentz with
only his staff in attendance. It was long past
midnight when the lights of the town appeared directly
ahead of the little party. They rode at a trot
along the road which passes through the village to
wind upward again toward the ancient feudal castle
that looks down from its hilltop upon the town.
At the edge of the village Von
der Tann was thunderstruck by a challenge from
a sentry posted in the road, nor was his dismay lessened
when he discovered that the man was an Austrian.
“What is the meaning of this?”
he cried angrily. “What are Austrian soldiers
doing barring the roads of Lutha to the chancellor
of Lutha?”
The sentry called an officer.
The latter was extremely suave. He regretted
the incident, but his orders were most positive no
one could be permitted to pass through the lines without
an order from the general commanding. He would
go at once to the general and see if he could procure
the necessary order. Would the prince be so good
as to await his return? Von der Tann
turned on the young officer, his face purpling with
rage.
“I will pass nowhere within
the boundaries of Lutha,” he said, “upon
the order of an Austrian. You may tell your general
that my only regret is that I have not with me tonight
the necessary force to pass through his lines to my
king another time I shall not be so handicapped,”
and Ludwig, Prince von der Tann, wheeled
his mount and spurred away in the direction of Lustadt,
at his heels an extremely angry and revengeful staff.