The Ludwig Conspiracy(125)
At last, in the gray light of dawn, I reached the royal equerry Richard Hornig’s estate in Allmannshausen. When my horse recognized his old stable, he broke into a final gallop and stopped at the stable door so abruptly that, exhausted as I was, I fell forward and off his back. With the last of my strength I scrambled up and ran to the manor house, where lights were already on despite the early hour. I knocked frantically at the door, until finally Hornig, unshaven and in a bad temper, opened it. When he saw me, his annoyance gave way to an expression of astonishment.
“My God, Theodor! What are you doing here?” he asked. “Count Dürckheim has sent us a dispatch saying that the king will be brought to Linderhof. We thought that you were with Ludwig . . .”
“The king isn’t going to Linderhof,” I interrupted. “He’s being sent to Berg Castle. They’ll already be on their way here. We must set about planning his escape from Berg.”
“Berg, here on Lake Starnberg?” Hornig looked at me, taken aback. “Well, that changes things, of course. But it isn’t necessarily the worst of news. I have many friends around here.” Only now did he notice my pitiful appearance, and he clapped me sympathetically on the shoulder. “But what am I talking about? Come along in and warm yourself up.”
As I entered the room where a fire blazed, I saw that we were far from being alone. As well as Hornig and his brother, here in the large, smoky room were Dr. Schleiss von Loewenfeld, Kaulbach the painter, and a dozen other persons, some of whom were very clearly simple, earthy fellows. However, I also saw Count Rambaldi from Allmannshausen and Baron Eugen von Beck-Peccoz from Eurasburg. All things considered, they were a motley crew of daring men who now stared at me suspiciously as their conversations died away.
“Never fear, gentlemen,” said Hornig reassuringly to the company at large. “This is Theodor Marot, a good friend of the king. He brings important news.” Turning to me, he helped me out of my wet overcoat. “Tell them, Theodor.”
Briefly and hastily, I gave an account of what had gone on at Neuschwanstein during the last two days. When I had finished, an awkward silence fell in the room. The air in the place was stale and sultry, and combined with all the smoke from the men’s pipes and cigars, it made me feel dizzy.
“My dear Marot,” said Dr. Loewenfeld, breaking the silence at last, “we must all be grateful to you. As you see, the last of the king’s loyal subjects have assembled here to stand by him. Until now, however, we have assumed that any escape must be from Linderhof. Your news changes everything, but it is far from being bad news.”
“Indeed, quite the opposite,” interrupted Hornig, lighting his pipe with a pine splinter from the hearth. “I know the land around Lake Starnberg like the back of my hand, and I have contacts. As for these men . . .” He pointed at the determined expressions of the company. “They will do everything to set their king free.”
“Assuming that he will let them,” growled Kaulbach the painter. “If I understand you correctly, Theodor, he is not so keen on the idea. Obviously His Majesty prefers cyanide.”
“At the end, I thought him very determined again,” I replied, warming my back at the crackling fire on the hearth. “I think that when Ludwig sees his escape will be crowned by triumph, he will not refuse. But as long as he sees a fate like that of his brother, Otto, ahead of him, death will seem the only way out.”
Dr. Schleiss von Loewenfeld struck the wooden floor with his walking-stick. “Then we must act quickly! As soon as the king is free, he must go to the Tyrol and regain his kingdom from there. We will make out a medical certificate of his sanity revealing Gudden’s as a shady, tendentious pamphlet. Then we can arraign Holnstein, Lutz, and the other ministers for high treason.” He shook his head angrily. “A medical certificate made out by a man who hasn’t once spoken to the patient. Any district medical specialist in insanity will debunk that. It’s nothing but a badly planned coup d’état.”
A murmur of agreement rose. Several of the common folk present sent up three cheers for the king and raised their glasses.
“When do you think the king will arrive at Berg?” Richard Hornig finally asked.
I shrugged. “Gudden said the carriages would be ready to leave at four in the morning. So they can’t be taking much longer.”
“In that case we must hurry.” Hornig took out a notepad and scribbled a couple of words on it. “The villains will probably stop for a rest in Seeshaupt, if only to change horses at the posting station. So we’ll try to get a message to Ludwig there. I suggest that for safety’s sake we form several rescue commandos who—if Ludwig decides on flight—will wait for the king at different locations on Lake Starnberg.”