Trusia: A Princess of Krovitch

  XI

  YOU LOVE TRUSIA

  "I am so glad," she said as she stepped from the dais to greet him.

  There was a generous simplicity of movement somewhat at variance withthe haughty poise of her head. That Trusia, Duchess of Schallberg, was avery lovely young woman Carter found himself mentally confessing with nosmall degree of enthusiasm, while his heart warmed at her sweeteffusiveness.

  "Do you really and truly mean it?" she continued as she placed a small,firm palm in his, man-wise. "You have come all the way from thatwonderful country of yours to join us?"

  She clasped her hands at her neck in a sweet girlish gesture as hesilently bowed his assent. He felt dazzled. Though accustomed to thesociety of high-bred women, he was at a loss for the first time in hisexperience; was unable to frame a simple affirmative. If, he thought,she would only turn away those wonderful eyes of hers for an instant, hefelt confident of accomplishing a conversational commonplace at least.

  The members of the Privy Council, following her lead, came forward togreet him. Carter devoutly prayed that this diversion might loosen hisunruly member.

  That no remark might escape his vigilant ears, Josef edged cautiously tothe outskirts of the group now gathered around the Americans. Trusiaespied him, and much against his desire haled him to the fore.

  "You must make amends, sir," she prompted, though not unkindly, "for theannoyance you have caused Captain Carter."

  "Your Highness," he said with a deferential bow, but unbending mind,"must accept my zeal in the cause as my justification." Trusia was muchhurt at this intentional and undisguised evasion of her behest, as muchon the strangers' as on her own account, so hastened to supplement suchan ambiguous apology.

  "Josef is indulged by us," she began deprecatingly, "because to hisfidelity, loyalty and zeal, we are indebted for a royal leader forKrovitch, a man descended from our one-time kings of the day whenKrovitch was great."

  "But I thought," said the puzzled Carter, "that you were the onlydescendant of Augustus."

  "I am." The little head was raised in imperial pride. "But King Stovik,though deposed, was the rightful sovereign, not my ancestor. Thefugitive monarch left a scion whom Josef as a faithful servitor hasattended from his infancy. Finding in recent events that the time wasripe for his crownless prince, he came to tell us that we had a king, ifwe dared to strike for him. He showed us proofs. We already hadorganization, men and money, but we sadly lacked a man for the struggle.My valorous people would have fought for me, poor as were my claims tothe crown, founded on the wrong done another. Imagine how high theirenthusiasm became on hearing that not only one of King Stovik'sglorified stock, but a man--a young king--was to lead the ancient flagto victory. Russia, already dazed, can do nothing against the flame ofmy people's ardor."

  "But the Almanac de Gotha," insisted Carter to whom the reference to theinvisible king was a puzzling one.

  "Knew nothing about King Stovik after his deposition and flight," sheinterrupted with a charming smile.

  "Tell me the story, Your Grace," he pleaded, for he could feelinstinctively that there was a story, an old world romance hidden here.

  She held up a warning finger. "Be warned in time," she said, "it is avulnerable point with me, one on which I am likely to be extremelyprolix."

  "You can but enhance the value of the legend," he replied with a bow. "Ipromise, Highness," he laughed, once more at his ease, "not to take theteeniest of naps."

  Already deep in her recollections of her country's tribulations, herresponsive smile was of one who dreamed. Inspiring scenes of tragicgrandeur, the pageant of a nation's history wiped out in the groans ofconquest, lit the beauty of her eyes. So must the Maid of Orleans haveappeared to those who in awe listened to her. Softened by hertranslation into the world of inspiration, she turned to him.

  "How I envy those who can wield the pen," she sighed. "I wish I couldchronicle the story of the kings who have been safely hidden forgenerations. Patiently, devotedly, for two centuries have they waitedfor this day to dawn, the first opportunity that Krovitch has had totake back her own from the despoiler of Europe. The narrative from wheregeneral information ends," she continued, "briefly is as follows: KingStovik with his queen and infant son escaped by the connivance of aloyal nobleman on the midnight of the intended assassination of theoverthrown dynasty. With two servants, husband and wife, who insisted onsharing the exile, he left Krovitch to find an asylum in a strangecountry, where caution led him to change his name. Certain it is thathis subjects never learned the place of his retreat though they werewell assured that his line was maintained in exile. After some years ofsilence, during which the heir apparent had reached a marriageable age,King Stovik sent again to his native land, to that nobleman in fact whohad aided his escape, beseeching that from the maidens of noble birth abride should be selected and sent back under the care of the messenger,who was none other than the faithful servant who had shared all thetribulations of the royal family. Bribes, threats, and coaxing of stillloyal Krovitzers could not induce the faithful fellow to betray hismaster's hiding place. In fact on that, as on all similar embassies, inthe generations that followed, her family bade farewell to theirdaughter, knowing not the place of her future home, nor her name,nothing but that she was to be the consort of their rightful king. Socareful was Stovik in his banishment, that it became a hereditary rulenot to permit the young bride to communicate with her family. Thus onlycould the never-dying hatred of Russia be avoided.

  "Until my father's time this system has been maintained, always throughthe agency of the descendants of that pair of original servants, of whomJosef is the last. As a little child, I remember him first, when hecame and claimed the hand of one of our most beautiful girls to sharehis master's banishment. Then, until recently, we had supposed the Linehad become extinct, for no further missions came. Then he returned andoffered to put a king at the head of our national movement. Nothingcould have been a greater boon. Those who, for years, at all corners ofthe earth, had been striving for Krovitch, came flocking to herstandards. Our joy was complete. Do you wonder, Captain Carter," shesaid gently, "that we are very lenient to Josef?"

  Appreciating the girl's nobility, Carter strove to do justice to theGray Man, but as he glanced into the mask-like face a greater repugnancethan aforetimes overcame all generous impulses. He strove to put downthe distrust that he was certain no one present shared with him, for onevery countenance, save that of Sobieska who was gazing idly out of awindow, he read a story of affection for the man who had done this thingfor Krovitch.

  "And the new king," he questioned lightly, avoiding the issue raised,"has he, too, married a maid of Krovitch?"

  She crimsoned in manifest confusion. Averting her head for an instant,she bravely met his glance.

  "Not yet," she replied. The signals of her embarrassment told him onwhom the choice had nevertheless fallen.

  She hurried on that this stranger might not the longer probe hersentiments with his compelling eyes. "In a few days we go to bring himwho knows not he is king, and at the head of a valorous people seat himon his throne. Now are the days when only a man must lead. My ancestorsthrew this land into Russia's clutches, their descendant must return itto Krovitch's rightful king. This is about all, Captain Carter, exceptthat when King Stovik fled he was supposed to have worn the medal foundon your chauffeur. Doubtless at some time a member of Carrick's familyreceived it as a mark of royal gratitude."

  "I thank you for the story," said Carter. "Now that my identity isestablished, may I ask for a place in your army? The cause of yourcountry shall be my own."

  She smiled indulgently. "Perhaps," she said, "when you have fullymastered our language, we might make you a lance corporal. You see wehave only one Field Marshal, Colonel Sutphen, although fully a score ofapplicants for that rank."

  "Don't tease, Tru," said Zulka with the intimacy of a lifelongfriendship, "I am a colonel. Cal Carter, here, is a better soldier. Wefought together at Santiago, so I should know."
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  "We'll see," was all she would reply, as she turned to go. Thenhesitatingly she held out her hand to Carter, who bent above it withinspired gallantry and touched his lips to her fingers.

  "Au revoir, Lady Paramount," he said.

  "Au revoir, Sir Knight of the Auto-car," she replied; adding; "be sureto come to the levee to-night. Already the maidens of Krovitch haveheard of you, sir. One at least, desires to make your acquaintance."

  "We are going to the inn," Zulka announced as he took Carter by the arm,so the latter made his adieux to the gentlemen of the Privy Council andturned prepared to follow him.

  "Castle's full," Paul explained to relieve the mystification apparent onhis friend's countenance. "Privy Counselors with their families andhouseholds, Army Staff, Duchess's Attendants and Aides-de-Camp, and soforth."

  "But the inn's full, too, Paul. The landlord----"

  "Thought you were a spy. That's why Josef recommended Schallberg.Thought you would probably tumble to the fact that he was wise, as wesay in New York; to the fact that more than a hundred notices wereposted there offering a reward for the apprehension of humble me, whomthey flatteringly described. You see," he explained, "shortly after myreturn last year, I hurt Russia's feelings. Made what they verytruthfully called a revolutionary address. I've been dodging Siberiaever since. Get your medal, Carrick, and come along," he called over hisshoulder to the Cockney, who was reluctant to leave without his preciousheirloom.

  Carter's second appearance in the courtyard was more gratifying than hisfirst, and he had no difficulty in procuring his touring car from thesentry, who already seemed to have been apprised of the stalwartstranger's status.

  Whirled along in the auto, the inn was soon reached, where, arm in armwith Count Zulka, Carter entered, much to the unenlightened bewildermentof the landlord, who, nevertheless, at the Krovitzer's request, had nodifficulty in finding them a private room for their dinner.

  After having enjoyed to the full the appetizing meal which had been setbefore them, the two friends at first indulged themselves withintermittent cigarettes and the thimblefuls of local liquor attendant attheir elbows. Digestion, for a while, stood in the way of discourse,and the tally was naturally indolent, somnolent.

  Presently, after having sufficiently watched the rings of smoke flattenthemselves against a black, studded rafter, Carter gave a slight rein tohis speculations.

  "Why," he said, holding up his cigarette to gaze squintingly at theember at its head, "why is the Count Sobieska antagonistic to Josef?"

  Zulka stretched himself further back in his heavy chair. Very much athis ease, he could have dispensed with questions just then.

  "Professional jealousy, I suppose," he replied. "When it comes toknowledge of Russian movements," he went on to explain, "that'sSobieska's department, mind you, but somehow Josef is always hours aheadof him through some source of his own. Naturally Sobieska takes thechance to rub a miscue in on the old chap."

  "Why should he be interested in Carrick's antecedents, Paul?"

  "Cal, you are like the youngster, who after exhausting all otherquestions, asked his dazed parent, 'Father, why is why?' Tell me allthat happened," he said, seeing the slightly nettled expression on hisfriend's face. "You see the circus was all over before I arrived."

  Carter related the affair from the time of their first meeting withJosef, at that very inn, to the time when Zulka's timely appearance putan end to their trial. "The rest you know," he concluded.

  Zulka opened his cigarette case, selected one and after knocking the endof it two or three times against the metal lid without putting it in hismouth, looked up at his friend. "Cal, I'm afraid I've given you the ideathat Sobieska is incompetent. That is not so. The fact is, he isdevilish deep and clever. He never lets up once he has struck a trail.He's probably hit on something now that he thinks should beinvestigated. By the way, how's Saunderson of the Racquet?" So theconversation drifted.

  Their mutual friends in New York had included many women of gentle birthwith whom Paul Zulka had always been more or less of a favorite.Concerning these, individually and collectively, Carter's replies to hisfriend's inquiries had been equally frank and responsive.

  "So you left no sweetheart behind, Cal?"

  "No, Paul. I'd not leave a sweetheart. I'd make her my wife."

  "In the face of a conge?"

  "You ought to know me better. I never take 'no' for an answer." Carter'spride glowed in his face as he made this reply.

  "The Duchess of Schallberg," announced Zulka, "will marry the King ofKrovitch to unite the two houses. She has pledged herself." Thisseemingly irrelevant announcement was made through a swirling cloud ofsmoke.

  "So?" Carter strove to make his reply partake of easy nonchalance, buthis throat tightened so that he could feel his face go red and hot. Itwas as if Paul had intimated that he, Calvert Carter, would seek and berefused by the Duchess of Schallberg. He was thankful the Krovitzer wasnot looking just then.

  Had he been wise, Carter would have said no more. But failing toemphasize his disinterestedness, he added to his monosyllabicexclamation a query in a studied tone of unconcern.

  "What's that got to do with us, old chap?"

  Zulka leaned forward confidentially as he laid a friendly hand upon theother's knee.

  "She's for neither you nor me, Cal," he said regretfully. "She mustmarry a man she has never seen for the sake of a country that sheadores. Without this submission on her part we could count on no unitedKrovitch. Our country worships her and will follow no king who will notseat her upon his throne. Get that angel face out of your heart. Deafenyour ears to her voice before, like me, you try too late. Oh, I know, Isaw," he hastened on as Carter would have stopped him, "love makes alleyes keen. You love Trusia."

  As the significance of the last remark went home, Carter sat as onestunned. The perspiration gathered slowly in great beads on hisforehead. He hung his head gloomily; his face went pale. It seemed,suddenly, that life, ever a pleasant vista to him, had built a wallbefore his eyes, unscalable, opaque.

  Then he understood. A pain gripped his heart as the great truth camehome to him.

  "I do," he answered jerkily, for he was striving to keep a strong man'sgrip on his soul. Slowly, however, the agony, defying him, triumphed."My God," he wailed in surrender, "it is true though I never realized ittill now." That was all he said, but with blind hands he groped forfellowship and welcomed Zulka's responsive grip of steel.

  Relaxing his handclasp, he arose and walked to the window, to gaze outupon darkness until his own night passed from him sufficiently to enablehim to seize upon his soul in the elusive shadows and hold it firmly.From where he stood, after an interval of pregnant silence, he turned ahigh-held, stern, white face upon Zulka.

  "Paul," he said quietly, "we'll have to stand by her now to the end. IfKrovitch wins and I'm alive, I'll go back to New York. If she loses,our lives must purchase her safety, should that be the price. It will beTrusia first, then."

  "It will always be Trusia," said Zulka.

  Carter nodded his understanding.

  "Come, Carter!" Zulka said almost brusquely, "enough of sentiment. Wemust dress for the levee. I can fit you out in clothes."