CHAPTER IVA DOUBLE TRAITOR
Karl Finkwas a familiar figure at the Castle. He was a favourite with the young King, who had chosen him from among the other foresters to be his regular attendant, and had lodged him in the royal quarter of the Castle. This Gertrude knew, but neither she nor Hermengarde was aware of a certain episode in the young forester’s early life which might not be without its effect on the future.
Karl entered the room with the confident air of one assured of his reception. But on seeing Gertrude he stopped short and cast a look of inquiry at the Princess.
“Come here, Karl,” she said graciously, in answer to the look. “You may speak freely before the Lady von Sigismark, who knows what you have come to tell me. Has the King been to see the pretty peasant again to-day?”
“Yes, your Royal Highness. And, what is more, to-day, for the first time, he did not go alone. He took Herr Bernal with him.”
The Princess listened to Karl, but addressed her answering remarks to Gertrude.
“Ah, that looks serious. As long as men keep an idea to themselves it may come to nothing, but when they begin to ask the advice of their friends, depend on it they have made up their minds.”
The Princess paused a moment to let her words sink into the girl’s mind, and then asked her:—
“Is there anything you would like to ask about, that Karl may be able to tell us?”
Gertrude looked up, struggling hard to preserve an air of indifference.
“This girl, I suppose you have seen her?” she said to the young forester. “Is she so very beautiful?”
“She is, my lady, most beautiful. They call her the Fawn of the Forest. Her hair shines like a sunbeam, and her skin is as soft and pink as the leaf of a wild rose. Every one admires her.”
Hermengarde turned towards the jealous belle with a cruel smile—
“You see, Gertrude, if even this man is so carried away, what the King must think of her. And she is young, too. Why, you are scarcely twenty, but this girl is some years under you. How old is she, Karl?”
“Scarcely seventeen, Madam.”
“You hear. No wonder my nephew is so fascinated.”
Gertrude was unable to make any reply to these stabs. Karl seized the opportunity of adding a fresh item to his report.
“His Majesty took her a present to-day,” he observed;“a brooch set with jewels, which came from Paris this morning.”
“Did he?” The Princess turned again to her victim. “I think the King once gave you a brooch?”
“No, Madam, it was a bracelet,” answered the girl sullenly, half stifled with mingled shame and anger.
Hermengarde saw that she had gone far enough, and dismissed her emissary.
“Thank you, Karl, that will do. Come to me again if you have anything fresh to tell.”
The fellow took himself away, and Hermengarde proceeded to talk seriously to the girl whose mind she had been working upon.
“Listen to me, my dear Gertrude; I brought that man in because I wanted you to understand for yourself how serious this matter may become. If any one else were concerned I should look upon it as a mere intrigue, but I have the very gravest fears as to what Maximilian may do. He is strange in many ways; you must have noticed it. Speak freely, have you not sometimes feared of late that he was becoming worse than formerly?”
This was a bolder hint than she had ventured on with the cautious Chancellor. But Gertrude had not yet been wrought up to the pitch at which she could receive such a suggestion complacently.
“No, surely not, Madam!” she exclaimed, in real dismay. “Surely there is no fear of that kind for the King.”
Hermengarde sighed, and assumed a resigned expression.
“We must always be prepared for the worst,” she replied. “I confess I have been a little alarmed for some time. I only hope nothing will happen till my son is older and better fitted to take a public part. By-the-by”—she spoke as if desirous to turn the conversation—“have you noticed the Prince lately? He is growing fast, and will soon begin to make a stir among you young ladies. I cannot help thinking he is handsome.”
“I have not noticed,” answered Gertrude, absently. “At least, yes—I beg your pardon, Madam—yes, his Highness is certainly much improved.”
“I should like you to be friends,” said the Princess, sweetly. “Be so good as to ring the bell for me, and if Ernest is in the Castle, I will send for him.”
Gertrude obeyed wonderingly, and the page was dismissed in search of the young Prince.
“There is no more refining education for a young man than the society of polished women,” observed the Princess, with the air of a philosopher. “I wish I could persuade you to give some of your time occasionally to my bantling, and teach him a little of your own grace.”
Gertrude blushed and bowed low, overwhelmed by such unexpected familiarity on the part of the proud Hermengarde.
“Your condescension overpowers me, Madam,” she said. “There is nothing I should think moredelightful than to enjoy the society of his Royal Highness.”
“I know the risk I run,” returned the Princess, smiling, and shaking her head in an almost playful manner. “I know how difficult it is for a young man to pass much time in your society and come off heart-whole.” She watched the flush of vanity animate the girl before her, and added thoughtfully, as if speaking to herself: “After all, the age when royal alliances were of importance to the welfare of kingdoms has passed. Why should we attach so much importance to marriages with foreign royalty? Too often such affairs turn out disastrously for those concerned, while a marriage within the circle of the national nobility would have brought happiness and content.”
Gertrude listened greedily, hardly venturing to believe her ears. Was it possible that the royal Hermengarde, the haughtiest princess in all Germany, in whose eyes the Hohenzollerns were parvenus, and who was accustomed to speak of the Guelphs as bourgeois, was now actually contemplating with indifference the possibility of her son marrying a mere private noblewoman, and was even hinting that she should feel no great displeasure if she, Gertrude von Sigismark, turned out to be the lucky bride!
Before she could reduce her thoughts to clearness, the door was opened by a tall, slim lad of fifteen or sixteen, who stood awkwardly on the threshold, looking into the room, his figure slightly stooped, and his dark eyes fixed with an inscrutable expression, from whichdread was not entirely absent, upon the Princess Hermengarde.
The Princess caught sight of him, and a smile of fondness softened the asperity of her features.
“Well, Ernest, come in and pay your respects to this young lady,” she exclaimed encouragingly. “You surely know the Lady Gertrude von Sigismark well enough?”
The lad moved forward, shuffling his feet rather nervously as he walked. Gertrude went half-way to meet him, and made as if she would have carried the young Prince’s extended hand to her lips. But this Hermengarde would not permit.
“For shame, Ernest! Where is your gallantry? If any hand is to be kissed, it should be the Lady Gertrude’s. Come, my boy, look into her face. You are old enough to say whether it is worth looking at.”
The Prince lifted his eyes reluctantly as high as the girl’s chin, and responded ungraciously—
“I don’t know—yes, I suppose so.”
“Fie!” exclaimed Hermengarde, laughing at the boy’s seriousness. “Is that the way you pay compliments to ladies? It is time we took him in hand, Gertrude, and trained him to be more polite.”
But if Gertrude had experienced any momentary chagrin, she was quick to cover it.
“I think you are unjust to the Prince, Madam,” she responded. “A compliment paid after some consideration is all the more valuable.”
“Mother,” broke in the boy, “can I go for my ride in the park now?”
“I dare say you can; but why are you in such a hurry to leave us? Perhaps Lady Gertrude is interested in horses. Ask her.”
Ernest turned to the girl as if his own interest in her had been quickened by the suggestion, and put the question in his own words—
“Are you? Do you ever ride?”
“I am very fond of horses,” answered Gertrude, with her most ingratiating smile; “and I ride whenever I can get a cavalier to escort me.”
“There is a chance for you!” cried Hermengarde to her son, pleased to see how quickly Gertrude had fallen into her new part. “You are in luck this afternoon. Quick, ask her if she will share your ride.”
Thus prompted, the Prince had no option but to comply, though he did not throw much heartiness into his invitation. But Gertrude showed enough alacrity for both.
“I shall be delighted with the honour, Prince, if you do not mind waiting while I put on my habit.”
“Don’t be long, then,” was the boy’s response.
Gertrude, with a swift reverence to the Princess, darted away to get ready, and surprised and annoyed Von Stahlen, who had returned to the ante-room to wait for her, by sweeping past him with the bare announcement that she was going to ride with Prince Ernest.
The Count sat silent and motionless in his chair forfully twenty minutes after this snub, and then turned to the patiently expectant Von Hardenburg and launched this withering remark—
“I thought it was time for the Princess Hermengarde to engage a nurse for her baby.”
In the mean time, as soon as the door closed upon Gertrude, the Princess Hermengarde had called Ernest to her side, and lovingly laid her hand upon his forehead.
“When shall I live to see that curly head wearing a crown?” she murmured fondly.
The boy drew back and frowned.
“I do not want to be king,” he said in a decided voice. “Besides, I love Cousin Maximilian, and I do not want him to die. Don’t you love him?”
“Of course I do,” responded Hermengarde, soothingly, regarding her son nevertheless with an anxious look. “But you should not say that you do not want to be king, my boy. Above all, be careful not to talk like that with any one but me; you cannot tell what harm it might do. Your cousin Maximilian is not strong, and a thousand things might happen to bring you to the throne.”
The boy pouted sullenly.
“Why doesn’t Maximilian marry?” he grumbled. “Am I the only heir?”
“You are the only near one. You have a distant cousin, Count von Eisenheim, but he is hardly to be reckoned among the Franconian royal family. Do not speak as if you shrank from your destiny, Ernest.Maximilian will never marry—I tell you as a secret—never. It is for you to marry, and one of these days, when you are a little older, I will talk to you about your beautiful cousin, Louisa of Schwerin-Strelitz. In the mean time, the less you speak about these things the better. Only be careful to show yourself gracious to Lady Gertrude, and also to her father, the Chancellor.”
“But I do not like him,” remonstrated Prince Ernest. “He is disagreeable; he stares at me when he meets me, in a way I do not like.”
“Nonsense, child, that is your fancy. Besides, if it were true, that would be all the more reason you should be civil and pleasant to him. Mark my words, before long you will find him very friendly. Now run away, and see that the horses are ready for your ride.”
The boy needed no second bidding. He sprang to the door, and Hermengarde, left to her own thoughts, settled down into her favourite attitude beside the window, with a pondering look upon her brow.
While these shadowy intrigues were taking shape in one corner of the palace, in another quarter of the same building a very different plot was making headway.
The connecting link between the two was Karl. When the young forester returned to his room in the royal corridor, to his astonishment, he found a visitor awaiting him. A tall, dark man, a few years older than himself, was seated on a chair, with his arms folded, in an attitude of quiet resolution.
He looked up at Karl’s entrance, but made no other movement.
“Who are you?” demanded the favourite. “How did you come here?”
“I came here easily enough,” replied the stranger, coolly. “I told the people below that I was your brother. Perhaps you have forgotten the brotherhood between us.”
Karl’s face fell, and he gazed uneasily at the bronzed features of his visitor, who returned his stare with calm unconcern.
“I do not recognise you,” he faltered. “What is your name, and what do you want here?”
“My name is Johann Mark!” Karl uttered a sharp cry. “And I want your aid to gain me a private interview with King Maximilian.”
The young courtier began to change colour, and his limbs trembled. Dropping all further question as to his visitor’s right to be there, he asked anxiously—
“What is it you want with the King?”
Johann gave him a warning look.
“Everything. Be wise, ask no more questions.”
“I dare not do what you ask. You have no right to expect it of me. I am a loyal servant of the King.”
“Loyal?” He pronounced the word with an intense scorn. “Karl Fink loyal! Come, speak out; how much must I give you to conceal me in some place where Maximilian will be likely to pass alone?”
“Nothing. It is no use to tempt me. I will not. I dare not,” he protested, with a tremor in his voice.
Johann’s look became threatening.
“Sit down,” he said. “I see that I must talk to you. I must remind you of some things that you have forgotten—things that happened before you turned a courtier. You lie under the misfortune of having had a moment of courage in your past, Karl—a fit of manly independence. You were whipped into it, I think, by old King Leopold; and in that fit you fled to Stuttgart.”
Karl interrupted. He had grown very pale, and his teeth were almost chattering.
“Don’t speak of that,” he implored. “Don’t remind me of that.”
“I must remind you,” was the deliberate answer. “I must remind you of a certain meeting-place behind the Arsenal.”
“Hush! Not so loud, for God’s sake!”
Johann returned a contemptuous smile, and continued in the same tone—
“I must remind you of a certain brotherhood composed of other Franconians who had felt the weight of Leopold’s hand, and of a night when a certain youth was initiated and swore—do you recollect the oath?”
“I recollect too much. In mercy do not keep dwelling on that.”
“Well, since you recollect it, I will pass on. Your comrades have been dispersed since then, Karl, but they have not forgotten you. We have watched your career with interest. We have seen you return to your old pursuits, and escape this time without a whipping.We have even watched you entering the palace, and becoming the favourite—valet, is it, or groom?—of the young King. We gave you credit for good motives. We said to ourselves—‘He has gone in there to be in a position to serve us when the time comes.’ For that reason we spared you, Karl. We have left you alone all this time because we had no need of your services. Now we have need of them. What do you say? Are you prepared to serve us?”
The unfortunate forester had listened to this biting speech in stony silence. But at its close he roused himself for a last effort, and angrily replied—
“By what right do you make these demands on me? Oh, I know; I have felt this coming all along. All these years the remembrance of that wretched act of folly has overhung me like a storm-cloud, and I have never risen in the morning without wondering whether it would burst before night. You call yourselves the friends of freedom, you extol the name of liberty, and all the time you are coercing others, using the hasty words extorted from a boy to bind the grown man and compel him to commit crimes at your dictation. I tell you that you are worse tyrants yourselves than any of those you conspire against. Look at me. I am happy here; King Maximilian has done me no harm, he has shown me every favour; I have lost all the inclinations that made me join you ten years ago, I have forgotten you, and only desire to be left in peace. And yet you track me down like bloodhounds, and order me to risk myneck at your bidding. What could be worse tyranny than that?”
Johann had listened perfectly unmoved to the other’s passionate protests. He hardly deigned to answer them.
“It is a case of tyranny against tyranny. There is no such thing as free will in this world, Karl. Kings use their weapons, and we use ours. They have their troops, their judges, their spies. We have our oaths and our daggers. If we are dealing with men of ignoble minds that can only be swayed by selfish considerations we have to employ the arguments that appeal to them. If kings use bribes, we must use threats.”
He paused, and for some moments nothing more was said. Then Johann spoke again—
“After all, we do not really ask very much of you. In enterprises of this kind a faint-hearted ally is more dangerous than an enemy. All I want of you is to place me somewhere where I may meet the King. You can go where you like, and no one need know that you were concerned in the affair.”
“What is it that you mean to do?” demanded Karl sullenly.
For answer Johann thrust his hand into an inner pocket of his coat, and produced a pistol, at the sight of which the other man recoiled, with a fresh cry.
“I think you know this pistol. I think the last time it was loaded you held it in your hand. You had been chosen by the lot to fire it then: I have been chosen now.”
“But then it was loaded for Leopold, and he is dead,” urged the trembling Karl.
“True, and therefore this time it has been loaded for Maximilian. What is there in that to surprise you?”
“But what has he done? His fancies are harmless; he is not bad and cruel; if he does no good he does no evil; he goes on his own way and leaves the people alone.”
“The fancies of kings are never harmless,” replied Johann sternly. And rising to his feet, to give more emphasis to his language, he went on in the tone of a man who feels deeply every word he says: “Not to do good is in itself a crime on the part of the ruler. How many men in Maximilian’s position, with his power to bless mankind, would make a paradise of Franconia! It is not only the active ill-doer that we have to war against; we must cut down the barren fig-tree as well. No; let a king be kingly, let him be a father to his people, let him comfort them in their sorrows, teach them in their ignorance; let him protect the poor from the spoliations of the rich, provide openings for labour in public works for the benefit of the whole nation, feed the hungry, build hospitals for the infirm, give homes to the aged; let him come down into the arena and fight his people’s battle; let him be our example, and our guide to lead us on, or let him cease to reign!”
Another silence followed, broken only by the uneasy fidgeting of Karl upon his seat, as he tried to think of some way of escape from his position. At last Johann put a stop to his hesitation.
“Come,” he said sternly, “no more delay. It is your life or his. Take me to the place where I can carry out my errand or—”
The wretched minion rose up shuddering, and led the way out of the room.