“The king is giving no more orders!” barked Holnstein. “His Royal Highness Prince Luitpold has assumed the regency. So you can go to the devil!”
The wiry little man’s mouth dropped open. At first he seemed about to say something; then he bowed and took the horses back into the stable. Holnstein looked grimly after him, and then, treading heavily, went back into the castle, where I could now see, in outline, a large company seated around a table on the other side of several lighted windows. My heart was racing; I hadn’t arrived too late! Obviously the distinguished gentlemen were amusing themselves over supper before going to tell the king the bad news.
Leaving one of my horses behind the shed, I galloped the other up the steep hill to Neuschwanstein. Fortunately, there were no soldiers to be seen. After I had knocked hard on the castle gate several times, the sleepy castellan opened it to me. I knew the man from my earlier visits. After a brief exchange of words, I was let in, and I stormed into the lower courtyard and from there up the steps to the palace to take the king the news.
I found him high up in the Singers’ Hall.
Ludwig was an even more pitiful sight than I remembered from our last meeting. He was so fat that I feared the buttons of his coat might come off at any moment. His face was pale and bloated, and there were food stains on his shirtsleeves and vest. As I came in, he was holding a small book in his greasy fingers, silently declaiming some lines of verse. His lip movements were reminiscent of a pale carp’s. Although I had made a lot of noise as I raced into the hall, he did not seem to notice me.
“Your Majesty!” I cried. “You are in great danger!”
At last he turned his mighty head my way, but he obviously did not recognize me.
“Kainz?” he asked. “Did I summon you to give a performance?”
I grimaced. The king obviously took me for one of his actors. Had Ludwig lost his wits after all? Had his critics been right? In the magnificent Singers’ Hall, with its high ceiling, its mural paintings from Parsifal, and its gilded chandeliers, his desolate figure looked like that of a beggar in a fairy-tale castle. He was standing on the small stage at the end of the vaulted room, in front of a roughly painted backdrop showing a wood with trees, bushes, and deer. Suddenly his expression changed, and his eyes narrowed to small slits.
“Marot!” he exclaimed when at last he recognized me. “I thought I had made myself clear. I do not want you anywhere near me now. Your conduct was dégoutant.”
Although the king went on roundly abusing me for some time, I was immensely relieved. At least Ludwig seemed to know who I was and had not entirely fallen prey to delusions.
When the worst of his rage was spent, I hurried to the stage and bowed like a knight to his ruler. And in that castle, I really did feel like a character from the world of the sagas, like Parsifal or Tristan, reporting to his king before going away in search of the Holy Grail.
“Your Majesty,” I began quietly. “I know that I have failed you. Nonetheless I come to you in this dark hour because I must warn you. Count Holnstein, Dr. von Gudden, and several officials and madhouse attendants are on the way here to have you certified insane and depose you. You must flee at once!”
Ludwig looked at me in astonishment. “Nonsense. If any danger threatened, Hoppe my barber would long ago have . . .”
“Forget your lackeys,” I interrupted him. “Most of them are already working for the ministers. Your Master of the Stables, Holnstein, has been inciting them.”
“I can believe it of him, corrupt as he is.” The king put his head on one side and scrutinized me curiously. All at once he seemed to me as reasonable as in his younger years.
“Marot, it is to your credit that you have come to warn me. A king can forgive. Stand up.” He called to his faithful servant, Weber, who had been waiting behind the door. “Lock the castle gates and let no one in,” he commanded in a firm voice. “Fetch the local gendarmes from Füssen and the firefighting forces from the countryside around. We’ll see if those fine gentlemen can lay hands on me without so much as a by your leave.”
My heart leaped for joy. This was the king as I had known him in the old days! The king for whom I was ready to die. His eyes, no longer vacant, fixed on me with an alert and friendly expression. He went down the few steps from the stage and clapped me on the shoulder so hard that I almost fell over.
“It’s good to have you back with me again, Theodor,” he said, smiling. “Now, find something dry to wear before I lose the best of my knights to a chill. That, truly, would be ridiculous.”