CHAPTER XXIIA ROYAL MADMAN
TheRegent Hermengarde sat in her former apartments giving audience to Karl Fink. She had not transferred herself to the royal suite, as Maximilian still occupied it, under the guardianship of Dr. Krauss and Karl himself, pending her decision as to his future place of confinement.
The demeanour of the attendant showed that his communication to the Princess had been of the gravest nature. His mistress, however, maintained her customary frigid calmness.
“You were perfectly right to acquaint me with this,” she was saying, “but on no account must you mention it to any one else, not even to the physician. At the same time it is only what might have been anticipated. The late King’s fate is an instance. Perhaps it is truer mercy to the unhappy young man to wish that he might find some such release from his wretched state. At all events I shall not attach the least blame to you if the worst should happen. It will be my care to find you another post where your merits will be rewarded.”
Karl bowed, with a shudder which he was unable to conceal from the searching eyes of the Princess, and silently withdrew.
Hermengarde gave a deep breath and looked as if some care had been removed from her mind. Then she turned to a private writing-table and proceeded slowly to compose a letter to the Kaiser.
Several days had elapsed since the overthrow of the King. During this time she had been busily employed. In the course of some of her numerous interviews with the Count von Sigismark, he had presumed to refer in guarded terms to the coming betrothal between Prince Ernest and his daughter. Hermengarde, however, had met these allusions by insisting on the impropriety of pressing on the affair while Maximilian’s misfortune was still fresh in the public mind, and the Chancellor had appeared satisfied. Neither of them had ventured into the presence of their victim since his deposition from power. Hermengarde received daily reports as to his condition from Karl, and the Chancellor from Dr. Krauss. The Privy Councillors had not yet left the Castle.
But there was one thing of which Karl had failed to inform his dreaded mistress.
That very morning, as he was strolling by himself in a lonely part of those beautiful grounds in which Maximilian had looked forward to enjoying so much happiness, a figure suddenly glided out from behind a tree, and stood before him. It was Johann.
The ex-conspirator had succeeded in evading thenumerous sentries, and, making his way into the valley by night, over the mountains, had been lurking in the neighbourhood till he could obtain an opportunity of accosting Karl alone. Ignorant of his recent expulsion from the secret society, Karl still dreaded him one degree more than the Princess, and dared not refuse his demand to be privately admitted to the presence of the imprisoned King.
As soon as night had fallen he let in Johann by a secret postern which had been designed by Maximilian for his own use, and ushered him with every precaution into the royal cabinet.
The sight of the change which had passed over the young man whom he had last seen in the pride of health and beauty, the cynosure of an attentive Court, struck Johann to the heart. He rushed forward and fell on his knees for the first time before the discrowned monarch.
“My King! My royal master! Look at me; it is I, your faithful Johann Mark.”
Maximilian thrust aside a mass of grey tangled locks, and turned a dull gaze upon the man whose voice had reached his ears.
“Ah!” he said, “it is you. I wondered where you were. Go to my aunt, the Princess Regent; she will take you into her favour like the rest.”
“No, no, Sire, do not speak to me like that. Do not think me a traitor. I have been away trying to organise a rising in your favour, but now I have come back to rescue you.”
“Fool, fool, I say,” answered Maximilian. “I have no rewards to give you. Why should you be more stupid than the others? They were wise enough to leave me—Von Sigismark, Auguste, Karl, all of them have gone. Why should you stay here?”
Johann struggled to maintain his composure.
“Your Majesty breaks my heart when you say such things. Can you not believe in me? I have come here by stealth, I know a secret path over the mountain by which we may escape together. Disguise yourself and come with me, and we will make our way to some distant land where your enemies cannot reach you.”
The King gravely shook his head.
“No, you do not understand. Have they not told you? I am mad. Where can a madman find refuge? I am better here—here among my faithful friends.”
Johann rose to his feet, his eyes flashing indignantly.
“I do not believe it, Sire! You are not mad, or if you are, then so am I too, and I will share your fate.”
Maximilian also rose, and touched Johann with his finger, as if to assure himself that he was there in flesh and blood. Then he smiled mirthlessly.
“Why, no, my friend, you are right, I am not really mad. But you see that they all think so. The Chancellor thinks so, and so does Auguste—he was my greatest friend, you know, and I could not expect strangers to think better of me than he does. He was a great musician. Did you ever hear his opera,The Vikings?”
Johann did not know how to answer. His breast heaved with painful emotion. Maximilian thrust an arm through his, in the old familiar way, and led him to the window. The chamber was situated on the side of the Castle which overlooked the lake, and the dark waters, glittering with reflected stars, rolled up to the very foot of the wall.
“Look,” said the King, in a tone of restrained exultation. “There is my refuge. I can escape when I like, you see.”
“But there is no boat there,” said Johann, trying to give the best meaning to his master’s words.
“I do not want a boat, Johann,” was the reply. “They would see me if I escaped from them in a boat, and follow after and bring me back again. When I escape it will be by a way so secret that all their spies will not be able to track me, and all their guards will not be able to bring me back.”
A long silence followed. Johann began to try and form some fresh plan by which to aid his unhappy master. Presently the King’s manner changed, his form seemed to collapse, he withdrew his arm and crept back to the chair on which he had been sitting before.
Johann followed him respectfully.
“Is there anything I can do for your Majesty to-night before I leave you for a short time?” he asked.
“I want to see my cousin Ernest,” was the response, muttered in sullen tones. “They will not let me see Ernest, though he is my heir.”
“Your wishes shall be obeyed, Sire. I will have Prince Ernest sent here.”
He passed out into the ante-room, where Karl was waiting anxiously. The physician had gone elsewhere for a time, and Karl was in solitary control.
“Go at once to Prince Ernest, and bring him here. The King wants to see him,” commanded Johann.
Karl knew the character of the man he had to deal with too well to attempt excuses. All he ventured to say was—
“It will be difficult to manage, and I may be some time. Who will guard the King?”
“I will. I will stay here till you return, and as soon as you have brought the Prince, you shall let me out by the way I came in.”
Before going on his errand Karl ventured a question.
“What do you think of his Majesty’s condition?”
“That is a subject which I will not discuss with you. Do what I tell you, or—”
The traitor did not wait to hear anything further, but hurried off.
In half an hour he returned conducting the young Prince, who appeared thoroughly frightened.
“Do not be afraid,” said Johann kindly to the lad. “The King wishes to say something to you, that is all. You will find him very gentle, but he is unhappy. Try to soothe him.”
With these words he pushed the Prince inside, and followed Karl to the private outlet.
As soon as Ernest found himself in his cousin’s presence, he uttered a cry of astonishment.
Maximilian had employed the half-hour which had just elapsed in attiring himself in the complete trappings of his royal station. He had put on the ermine robe, thrown the collar of the Golden Fleece around his shoulders, girded on the sword of State, and grasped the golden sceptre in his hand. In this pomp he received his young kinsman.
Overawed by this extraordinary display, the Prince was about to fall on one knee before his cousin, as he had been accustomed to do on occasions of great ceremony. Maximilian checked him.
“Do not pay homage to me, Ernest,” he said sadly. “No one does that now. I shall not be King much longer. I have sent for you to tell you that. You are my heir, and when I am gone you will wear these ornaments, and sit on the throne of Franconia.”
“Oh, Cousin Max! I cannot bear it!” And the poor boy began to weep.
“You need not cry, Ernest. You cannot help me. You have not plotted against me, and bribed my friends and servants. You have not spent the moments when my head lay on your breast in calculating how to betray me. You have not watched me from day to day, for something which you might seize upon to carry to my enemies as a symptom of insanity. If you gave me food I should not spit it out again in secret, for fear it might be poisoned!”
The boy’s eyes grew large with horror.
“What do you mean? Poison!” he cried.
“Yes; but have no fear, they will not poison you. But when you are King, Ernest, do not forget your people. That is a crime for which you will deserve to be punished as I am. Rule them, Ernest, but rule them yourself; let no Ministers come between you and them, and usurp your power from you. Govern them justly but kindly; if they make complaints, listen to them; if they have just grievances, redress them. Let no wrong be done with impunity in any corner of the land. Trust no reports from others; see with your own eyes and hear with your own ears. Remember that you are but the first of servants after all. Try to make your people happier; do not be content with mere submission, do not wait till discontent grows dangerous. Study their problems, find out their needs beforehand. Above all, love them, Ernest, and they will love you, and no traitors will ever dare to conspire against your throne, and tear your crown from you like this.”
He wrenched the diadem roughly from his head and made as if to cast it on the floor. But a new impulse suddenly coming to sway his mind, he strode up to where his young cousin stood trembling and speechless.
“Take it, it is yours. See, I crown you, Ernest V. of Franconia!”
And he thrust the circlet forcibly down upon the lad’s brow.
“No! No! Take it away!” cried Ernest, wildly. “It hurts me.”
“Why, so it should,” returned Maximilian, grimly. “Did you think crowns were pleasant things to wear? It will hurt you more presently, Ernest, it will grow red-hot, and sear a mark upon your forehead that will never wear away.”
“You frighten me! I do not know what all this means. I feel something inside me, as if my head would burst.”
“Why, there again, that is one of the symptoms, Ernest. You are an Astolf, too, poor child, your mother forgets that. But you must have these other things as well. The crown is not enough.”
And with the excitement mounting in his brain, the King tore off collar and robe and sword-belt, and thrust them almost by force upon the resisting boy. He finished by placing the sceptre in his hand, and then knelt down upon one knee before him.
“Hail, your Majesty! Now go and show your subjects their new King!”
“Max, Cousin Max, I feel ill; something is the matter in my head. Am I going mad?”
“Mad? Why not, Ernest? We are all mad, we Astolfs. It is in the blood. We inherit it with our kingdom. My father died mad, so did yours. What matter; they have not found you out yet, as they did me. Hide it, Ernest, be cunning, cringe to that old fox Von Sigismark, marry his vain daughter, and he will never pull you down.”
The boy gave a wild laugh.
“Gertrude! I hate her! They shall never makeme marry her. I would rather go mad than do that.”
Maximilian laughed too, and clapped his hands.
“It works, it works!” he cried frantically. “The poison in the crown works, I knew it would!”
Suddenly the wildness left him, he crouched down shuddering, and raised a finger to his lips.
“Hush! I hear some one. It is the doctor. Be careful; we must try and deceive him.” And he shrank down again in his seat.
The door was opened, and Dr. Krauss came in. He glanced round, and his eyes fell upon the young Prince in his strange masquerade.
He turned sternly to the King.
“What do you mean by this, Sire? These things must be taken from you if you play such tricks. Be good enough to take them off, your Royal Highness,” he added, speaking to Ernest, “and come back to your apartments.”
And after helping the dazed lad to rid himself of the royal insignia, he took him by the hand and led him out.
The King walked towards the window.