The Ludwig Conspiracy(102)

“Do you suppose we didn’t think of that?” barked Kaulbach, the painter. He had lit himself another cigarette and was nervously drawing on his long, ivory cigarette holder. “We have to assume that the Black Cabinet has also taken over the telegraph office in Füssen, and if those dogs intercept any message of ours, all is lost.”

Loewenfeld nodded his agreement. “If I were Lutz, I’d keep the castle under observation, station some of my own men in the telegraph office, and make sure the king thinks himself safe. The minister may be a traitor, but he’s no fool.”

I said nothing for a moment, while the smoke from the men’s cigars and cigarettes hovered like a dark cloud above our heads.

“Then we must find some other way to warn the king,” I finally said. “Hornig, do you have any horses here?”

The equerry raised his right eyebrow. “You’re thinking of sending a mounted messenger? It’s a good fifty miles to Füssen. In the weather out there, he’d need at least four hours to cover the distance. And the delegation, with Gudden, will be arriving there in . . .” He took out his gold pocket watch. “In exactly two hours’ time. So you can forget that idea. In any event, it’s useless. The king is too obstinate to listen to any of us. He’s dismissed me from his service, he’s fallen out with Kaulbach over the sketches for the picture of the ruins of Falkenstein Castle, the doctor here is too old, and Dürckheim has been suspended and sent away. So which of us could go?”

“I could,” I said firmly.

“You?” Hermann Kaulbach looked at me skeptically. “As far as I’m aware, the king banished you from his circle of friends forever after that wretched business at Herrenchiemsee. When I last saw him, he spoke of having you horsewhipped and transported to the Antilles.”

“I must try, nonetheless,” I replied. “I am sure that Ludwig still has some fondness for me. And when he hears the news I bring, he will forgive me.”

“Or chop your head off,” growled Richard Hornig. “Anything is possible with him.” He sighed and then rose to his feet. “Be that as it may, I can see that we have no other option. Come with me, and I’ll see if I can find a horse in my stable that won’t throw you at the first crossroads it comes to.”





WE DECIDED ON two fast young black horses. I was to ride them alternately, and in that way I could cover the whole distance to Neuschwanstein at full gallop.

In the past, I had accompanied Ludwig on many a nocturnal ride, and I considered myself a reasonably good horseman, yet the next few hours were hell on earth. Torrential rain was falling, the roads were softened and muddy, and I could hardly see my own hand before my eyes. Raindrops whipped into my face like hailstones, and after a few minutes my clothes were already clinging to my body. Beyond Hohenpeissenberg, the rain finally slackened, but it was still difficult for me to see the right way to go in the darkness.

Shortly after midnight, a few lights showed ahead of me at last, telling me that I had reached Füssen. A little later, I approached Hohenschwangau Castle, where Ludwig had spent much of his childhood. On a height opposite it, Neuschwanstein Castle stood, faintly illuminated. Large parts of that imposing building were still surrounded by scaffolding.

I reined in my horse and looked around me. What now? So far I had thought only of reaching Neuschwanstein. Now that the castle lay ahead at last, I hesitated. Suppose Gudden, Holnstein, and the others were already up there with the king? Suppose soldiers were already stationed on guard around the castle? All at once this whole venture seemed pointless. I was freezing, as if shaken by a fever. Hunger gnawed at me, and I felt more exhausted than ever before in my life.

At that moment I saw a large man walk unsteadily through the entrance to Hohenschwangau Castle and down to the valley. For a brief moment I thought I was looking at the king, but then I recognized the massive figure as that of Count Holnstein, once a close friend of the king. He seemed to have been drinking heavily. He swayed as he approached the stable, where a coachman was just leading two horses out by their reins. I quickly slipped behind a nearby shed with my two mounts and watched what happened next from there.

“Hail, my man!” bellowed Holnstein, twirling his mustache. “What are you doing here?”

“I . . . I’m to get the carriage ready for the king,” stammered the coachman. “His nightly drive . . .”

“Unharness those horses at once,” the count snapped at him. “We have a different carriage ready for the king.”

The coachman looked at Holnstein’s gigantic figure, baffled. “But the king gave me orders to—”