The Prince Commands: Being Sundry Adventures of Michael Karl, Sometime Crown Prince & Pretender to the Thrown of Morvania (17 page)

“Almost over now, Your Highness,” he whispered. “You don’t have to ride back if you don’t wish to, there’s a nearer way.”

“Lead me to it,” Michael Karl hissed back. “I’m all in.” He managed to straighten as the King arose and stepped down. He would have to ride back in the state carriage. Obeying Urich’s motion Michael Karl stepped to the back of the throne and followed his aide-de-camp through a side door.

“I wouldn’t have suggested this,” explained Urich as he beckoned up a Rolls Royce which was standing in the deserted side street “but you look awfully tired, and nobody will notice Your Highness’s absence if the King is there.”

Michael Karl climbed into the car and sank on the cushions with a sigh of relief. “What time is it?”

“Four o’clock.” Urich pushed up his medieval sleeve to consult a very modern wrist watch. “Your Highness will have two hours of rest and time for something to eat before the first audience this evening. To-morrow there is the state banquet given by the Mayor of Rein and the state ball in the evening.”

Michael Karl leaned back wearily and closed his eyes. “Who, in his right mind, would ever want to be a Prince?” he asked.

The car stopped and he crawled out. Cheering from below marked the passing of the King. With Urich’s help he dodged through a small private doorway and reached his own apartments. His valet was waiting and in no time he was free of the mail.

“There is luncheon on the table, Your Highness,” murmured the man respectfully as he bowed himself out.

“Thank goodness. Another half hour and I’d have passed out of sheer starvation. Where are you going, Urich?” he demanded as his aide-decamp edged towards the door. “You are going to forget etiquette for once and sit down and eat with me. Oh, yes you are! Come on.”

So with Urich on the other side of the table he sat down to enjoy the luncheon.

“They did us proud,” he said with some satisfaction after surveying the table. “If to-night is anything like this morning I’m going to need this.”

His wing of the palace seemed very quiet. Even the city below had quieted down. To-morrow night it would be all over, even the shouting. Urlich Karl would be King and would be off for the Summer Palace in the Mountains. And he—well, perhaps he would be on his way to America. His bargain in the house on the Pala Horn had been for the duration only and—the war was over.

Yes, by to-morrow night he might be free. He smiled a bit wryly. Freedom didn’t seem so alluring but he supposed that that was reaction. After all, a fellow couldn’t go through a ceremony like that of to-day and not have some of his ideas changed. Morvania might smack of Graustark, but there was something behind it all that was real and worth holding on to.

“I guess,” he said tossing his napkin aside, “I’ll take your advice about the nap, Urich. Call me when it is time to dress.”

The lounge felt very comfortble. He curled up drowsily. Some one shook him violently. It was Urich, his mail tunic exchanged for the glory of a full dress one of the Prince’s Own.

“Your Highness must get up at once. We are late. Your Highness’s bath is waiting.”

The sun had gone, and there was a distinct chill in the air from the open window. Michael Karl made a hurried toilet and held his breath while the valet and Urich fastened his tight dress tunic. His dress saber was belted on, and Urich handed him his gloves and helmet. Urich kept frowning at his watch, reminding Michael Karl of nothing so much as the White Rabbit on his way to the Duchess’s tea party.

He was hustled out into the hall, down the staircase and through bowing lines of courtiers to take his place in the throne room on the lower steps of the throne. A moment later the King was announced.

Again he entered alone. Michael Karl remembered what his cousin had once told him, that a throne was a lonely place. All at once he pitied the King. That young man in his silver and white uniform, taking his place on the throne, was only a few years older than he, Michael Karl, but he would never have a real friend nor perhaps a real pleasure. He would always have to be careful of his words, his actions, of whom he surrounded himself with. He was a prisoner of state.

Urich plucked his sleeve in some excitement. “The English Representative Extraordinary and the American Minister have arrived and are waiting to be presented. Our cause is safe.”

The Grand Chamberlain appeared like a jack-in-the-box in the doorway.

“His Excellency, the Representative of His Majesty of Great Britain, His Excellency, the American Minister to Morvania!”

A lane appeared as if by magic down the room, and the two quiet men made their way to the steps of the throne where they handed their credentials to Duke Johann in order that he might present them to His Majesty.

Two men, one in evening dress, the other in full court costume, standing there—it marked the end and the success of the Royalist’s whole mad adventure. The monarchy of Morvania was firmly established and Michael Karl’s job was done.

Michael Karl stirred and looked up at the King’s calm face. When would he get his dismissal, he wondered. Meanwhile he listened to the welcoming speech of the King of Morvania.

Chapter XVII

Michael Karl Destroys A Certain Paper–

Michael Karl, Prince of Rein and a host of other useless things, had run away. A sub-lieutenant of the Red Hussars was covering the top of one of the tables on the sidewalk before the Sign of the Rose with the crumbs of his breakfast roll but sub-lieutenants have very little in common with princes.

It had been so ridiculously easy. Jan had been persuaded to produce the uniform which he had been told was to be the base for a very neat joke on His Majesty. Urich had been yawning so widely when, at dawn, the hall was over that it had been easy to persuade him that his master was sleepy too. Then into the uniform and out of the water gate.

He wasn’t running away for good, but he did want some time to think things over. The lack of privacy in the Castle had irked him as it never had before. He crumpled his napkin and tossed two of the slightly oval coins, which he had stuffed into his pocket, onto the table. Hoping that was enough (he had no way of knowing the proper price of breakfasts in Rein) he arose and sauntered off.

Here and there a bit of frayed scarlet or yellow cloth still fluttered from a lamp post, but for the most part Rein had returned to its workaday dress and lost its decorations. The coronation with its attendant ceremonies was over. Rein was ruled again by a Karloff as it had been for the last five hundred years. Adventure was done with.

Michael Karl wandered on. For all his weeks of residence in Rein he had never really explored the city. To-day he came out on a crowded square with surprise. Sleek horses and some who were not so sleek stood in rows like army picket lines while now and then some one of their number would be led out and shown off before a little group of loud voiced men. Apart from the horses stood the cattle, the oxen. All manner of fowl squawked and crowed from their stacked cages by the center fountain. The shrill yapping of dogs called attention to them, fastened in packs, quarreling, fighting, snapping at each other and at passers-by.

“Why, Lad!” a familiar voice attracted Michael Karl’s attention.

Franz Ultmann was soothing a nervous mare and smiling at Michael Karl over her back.

“Herr Ultmann!”

“Faith, Lad, I’m that glad to see ye. Marthe would have it that ye’d come to all manner o’ grief, but we hoped for the best. So ye got through, that was good. And I’ll be a-thinkin’ that ye had more then a taste of the fightin’, now didn’t ye, Lad?”

Michael Karl laughed and touched his one scar lightly. “It left its mark. What are you doing here, Herr Ultmann?”

“ ’Tis the Spring Fair, Lad. I had orders to sell what I thought best, so I brought the roan mare and two three-year-olds. His Grace will make a pretty penny. See them officers?” He pointed to three men coming down the horse lines. Michael Karl recognized the green coat of a wolfman, the black of his own regiment, and the gray of the Foreign Legion.

“They be a-buyin’ for the army, and I’m a-goin’ to sell them. Ye’re not a-leavin’ now, Lad?” For Michael Karl, fearing a meeting with some one who might recognize him, was edging away.

“Well, if ye must be a-goin’, Lad, and have the time would ye stop in at the Sign of the Plowman and see Marthe? She worried that bad about ye, Lad.”

“Why, of course, and I’ll be back here later, Herr Ultmann.”

The officers were very close now, and Michael Karl had just time enough to step before the next line of horses. The meeting with Franz Ultmann had cheered him immensely, and he did want to see Marthe.

To reach the opposite side of the square he had to pass the dog market, and he did it slowly. Michael Karl had all his life wanted a dog, something warm and friendly to follow him around and snuggle up of nights. The stiff-legged puppies dancing up and down, barking their challenge to the world, charmed him completely.

“The Dominde wishes a dog? I have some very fine ones,” a merchant in a coat of a mountaineer edged forward. Michael Karl shook his head wistfully.

“I guess not.”

“Let the Dominde look. Perhaps he will find one to his taste,” urged the man. Michael Karl refused again but still he lingered. Almost at the end of the line, lying alone in weary dignity, was the most beautiful dog Michael Karl had ever seen, a great snowwhite, Russian wolfhound, its slender nose buried between its dainty paws.

The dog seemed to take no interest in its surroundings but lay still, not even watching the people who passed. The merchant hastened up.

“That, Dominde, is a very fine dog. A gentleman of the mountains trained him for the hunting of wolves. He said that these kind of dogs were bred for that in his country. He had a great pack when he died. The dog is very cheap, Dominde. Men of our land do not like them, although a shepherd bought some. They are slow to make friends, these wolfhounds, but they love a man for life. Eh, Alexis, is not that true?”

The hound raised his head at the sound of his name and, ignoring the merchant, looked straight at Michael Karl. Gravely and with a certain dignity he got to his feet and then, walking up to the boy, he pushed his nose into the hand Michael Karl was unconsciously holding out to him. The plume of his tail wagged once.

“Dominde!” there was a touch of excitement in the man’s voice, “never have I seen him do that. All others he has not even seen, but you he woos. Will you take him, Dominde?”

“Your price?” demanded Michael Karl, his eyes still on those of the dog.

“Dominde, he is yours already. I ask five gruden.”

Michael Karl looked at him in amazement. “But that is preposterous, the dog is worth twenty times as much.”

“Dominde, when Alexis has selected you, is it for me to demand the price? For some dogs there is only one master.”

Michael Karl looked at him a minute and then nodded. “I understand. But this is what I pay.” He pulled his heavy purse out of the breast of his tunic and counted out five bills. “That I think is the fair price.”

The merchant’s face paled when he saw the amount. “Dominde, you are a prince!” Michael Karl started. “On this I can live for a year. Here,” he hunted feverishly through his pockets and at last produced an envelope which he thrust into Michael Karl’s hands. “This tells of the ancestors of Alexis. It was found among the papers of the gentleman who bred him.”

“Thank you. And should you come across a mate for Alexis bring this card to Herr Franz Ultmann at Coblen.” Michael Karl scribbled something on the back of a visiting card which must have belonged to the former owner of the sub-lieutenant’s uniform.

“A thousand thanks, Dominde. Alexis will need no leash.” The merchant bent and snapped the chain off the wolfhound’s collar. Shaking himself the dog stepped daintily after Michael Karl, following closely at his heels as the boy threaded his way through the crowded market.

Michael Karl asked directions and made his way to the Sign of the Plowman.

“I wish to see Madame Ultmann,” he told the smiling maid in the inn parlor. Alexis curled up beside his feet, resting his head on Michael Karl’s booted feet.

Michael Karl rose as Marthe came in. “Madame Marthe,” he exclaimed, “I’ve come at last to thank you for those sandwiches.”

She peered uncertainly at him through the gloom and then: “It’s the boy of the roses!” she cried softly.

“Who else would it be, Madame Marthe? Alexis, move over and let the lady sit down. Herr Franz tells me that you’ve been worrying about my unworthy self, Madame Marthe.”

“We did not hear—” said the little lady.

Michael Karl’s mouth straightened. “That there was much to be done is my only excuse.”

As he turned his head Marthe caught sight of the scar on his cheek.

“Ye’ve been hurt!”

“Only a scratch. I was very fortunate. Did you come for the coronation, Madame Marthe?”

“Yes. His Grace allowed us places at the best window in his town house. We saw all but the comin’ of the Crown Prince; we missed that and were so unhappy. Tell me, do ye know the Crown Prince?”

Michael Karl sighed. “I used to think I did, but I’m beginning to wonder. He’s changed—along with others.”

Marthe echoed his sigh. “It’s always so, Laddie. But there’s somethin’ a-troublin’ ye.”

All at once Michael Karl knew the relief of telling some one his doubts and fears. “I’m going away, Madame Marthe, and I don’t think that I want to. I’m not sure of anything any more.”

“But why, Laddie?”

“I wasn’t born in Morvania. I was brought here against my will to take my place and rank. When I came I hated it, I wanted to go back. And then I met him, my kinsman, and, Madame Marthe, I liked it then, but he knows that I didn’t at first. And now he hasn’t asked me to stay, and my reason for coming is gone and so—I am going away.”

“Do ye know that he doesn’t want ye?” questioned Marthe gently not asking who the mysterious “he” might be.

“He has said—nothing. And I have given him chances. So this is probably good-by, Madame Marthe.”

“And ye would stay gladly if he asked it of ye?”

Michael Karl smiled wistfully down at her. “Need you ask, Madame Marthe? And now let us talk of something else. Herr Franz tells me that he is selling some of the horses. I wish I might buy a sister of Lady Spitfire. The Lady is dead. She was killed in the fighting.”

Marthe nodded. “His Grace told us. Franz was that glad she might serve.”

And so they talked until Franz came to join them, chuckling over a good bargain.

“Still here, Lad. Now that is good. We shall have dinner together.”

“I’m sorry, Herr Ultmann, but I must be going. This is good-by, Madame Marthe,” for the second time he kissed her hand. “Good-by, Herr Ultmann, and may your roses find the sun very nourishing. Come, Alexis,” and with a smile and a wave of the hand he left them.

He crossed the Cathedral Square and turned into the Pala Horn. The house where he had lived with Ericson was still there, of course, but there was a change, and a new footman was standing at the door to take the letters from the postman. It wasn’t home any more. He passed Duke Johann’s town house and then turned back. For the first time it occurred to him that his absence might have caused some worry at the palace.

Slowly, very slowly, he went back to the water gate. The single sentry opened it at his repeating the password and he stood in the outer courtyard. From the central tower the Royal Standard whipped and tore in the stiff breeze. Alexis pressed close to his knee and whined softly.

Michael Karl passed almost unnoticed into the inner courtyard and the tiny garden beyond, made of earth brought up the hill by the wagon load. Alexis showed some interest and would have liked to stay, but Michael Karl opened a door in the wall almost hidden behind a thick stock of ivy. This had been his own discovery, even Urich had no knowledge of it. There was a flight of stairs inside which led to his own apartments.

Up he went with Alexis sniffing behind him and then he was in his own bedroom. His pajamas still lay across the foot of the bed as the valet had placed them hours before. He stepped into the dressing room and sat down on the lounge to pull off his boots, there was no need of ringing for aide-de-camp or valet. His head seemed made of lead it was so heavy, perhaps if he rested for just a second or two— Michael Karl curled up with a sigh. Alexis watched him intently, then he too lay down.

Alexis’ barking awakened Michael Karl. He sat up rubbing his eyes somewhat stupidly. Urich stood by the door unable to advance because of Alexis who was snarling before him.

“Alexis, this is a friend, a friend,” Michael Karl assured him. The dog looked from Urich to Michael Karl and then without noise he returned to sit by the lounge.

“May I ask where Your Highness has been?” There was cold anger mingled with the relief in Urich’s voice.

“I went away,” said Michael Karl slowly. He doubted if he could ever make Urich understand why he
had
to get away from the palace that morning.

“We have been searching for Your Highness for hours. His Majesty has been very much alarmed. He sent for Your Highness and we were unable to locate you.”

“I am sorry. I had to do it. I will go to His Majesty immediately,” answered Michael Karl wearily.

He got up stiffly and walked over to the mirror to smooth his hair. “I’m sorry, Urich,” he said again.

Urich bowed formally. He was still angry. Michael Karl leaned wearily against the edge of the dressing table. He wished he had time for a bath and a change. Urich moved forward, it was almost as if he had read Michael Karl’s thoughts.

“His Majesty is in conference with some repre- sentative of the Merchants’ Bank. You will have time to change, I think.” He moved about softly, laying out an undress uniform, ringing for the valet. “I informed His Majesty before the dog awakened you that you had returned,” he added.

Michael Karl changed quickly. The King might send for him at any moment. Alexis accepted the valet and Urich. They were there to wait upon his master, therefore they were to be tolerated.

The valet went to answer a rap at the door. He admitted an officer of the King’s suite.

“His Majesty desires His Highness’s presence in the Council Chamber at once.”

Michael Karl went out with Urich and Alexis behind him. His riddle was going to be solved. Either Urlich Karl would ask him to stay or— But Michael Karl refused to think of that “or.”

Ordering Alexis to stay with Urich outside the door Michael Karl turned and stepped into the room he had once examined from the peephole of the secret passage. The great table still occupied the center of the room but now only one of the conspirator’s chairs was filled. Urlich Karl sat at the head of the table where Kafner had sat and tried to make peace between the quarreling factions of his party.

Michael Karl bowed. “Good morning, sire.”

“I suppose that there is no use in my asking the reason for your disappearance this morning?” The voice was chillingly remote.

“I had something to think over, I cannot think here, so I went into Rein. I don’t think I was recognized.” Michael Karl’s explanation sounded flat in his ears. Why had Urlich Karl changed? Since the coronation he had been so different.