The well-known psychiatrist had already treated Prince Otto, Ludwig’s pitiable younger brother. Otto was severely demented and spent his monotonous days wailing and giggling in Fürstenried Castle. An aunt of Ludwig was also considered insane. Years earlier she had liked to claim that she had swallowed a glass keyboard. Heaven knows, the Wittelsbachs were not an easy family to understand. But for all his eccentricity, all his fantastic notions, Ludwig was not deranged! The sole aim of the ministers’ intrigue was to oust an increasingly refractory king obsessed by his architectural plans and replace him with a willing marionette.
That evening I fortified myself with half a loaf of bread, butter, and bacon, mounted my horse, and rode along the Loisach River toward Garmisch. In the darkness of night, I finally climbed to the high pass of the Ettal Saddle and galloped past Ettal Monastery. From here, I realized, I must proceed carefully. The road to Linderhof was a narrow one; to the left and right of it lay woods and marshy meadows that I dared not cross on horseback. In von Strelitz’s place, this was exactly where I would have laid an ambush.
Only a few miles to the castle, I was beginning to think myself safe, when branches suddenly snapped to my left. The next moment a loud explosion rang out. I dropped off my horse, rolled away, and crawled into the thicket beside the ditch at the side of the road. I saw a figure hurry out of the wood. The moonlight was bright enough for me to recognize him at once. It was indeed von Strelitz, in his dark coat looking even more like a large bat by night than he did during the day. He held the still-smoking pistol in his hand as he looked searchingly in all directions. But what alarmed me more was the sight of the men with him.
They were four police officers.
Not hired murderers, not Prussian agents, they were instead four good, honest Bavarian officers, clad in green uniforms, who now drew their own pistols and scanned the roadside with them. A cold shudder ran down my back. How far did the power of the ministers reach if even the police were now involved in the attempt to topple Ludwig? These men had certainly been told a false story, probably by von Strelitz, to the effect that I was a murderous anarchist plotting against the king. Nonetheless, my hair stood on end to think that Bavarian officers could so easily be won over to the side of evil.
While the police officers searched the bushes on the other side of the road, von Strelitz approached my hiding place with his firearm at the ready. He was only five paces from me now, and coming slowly closer. In the wan moonlight, I could see the gleam in his eyes; I almost felt that he could smell me. I cautiously fumbled with my coat, trying to get out my own revolver, but I quickly realized that the slightest sound would give me away at once. Finally I abandoned the attempt and prepared to attack.
Von Strelitz was only two paces away when I launched myself at him, like a dark nightmare, yelling at the top of my voice. As I had hoped, the agent swerved aside, and his shot went wide. I turned around and, darting sideways, ran for a little copse of fir trees where I hoped to find at least temporary shelter. Behind me, I heard angry cries, followed by shots. But as if by some miracle, they all missed me.
At last I reached the trees, which were gnarled by wind and weather, and plunged into the darkness of the wood. Birds flew up with hoarse cries, and I soon realized that I had fallen into a trap. The little wood was more of a spinney, a tiny overgrown island surrounded by flat, marshy terrain. The police officers and von Strelitz circled around the group of trees, dividing up at regular intervals. From the cracking sounds in the undergrowth, I realized that they were approaching me in a star-shaped formation. They wanted to drive me out of my hiding place like an old boar.
I thought quickly and decided on a strategy of forward flight. When I heard stealthy footsteps very close, I drew my revolver, leaped out from the cover of a fallen tree, and fired without hesitating.
Von Strelitz stood in front of me.
For a split second, time stood still. I saw the Prussian agent gasping as he clutched his right shoulder, and his own gun fell to the ground with a dull thud. He swayed, fell, and with two fast strides, I was past him and away.
Without another thought, I ran for the distant outskirts of the wood. Beyond them, a gray and seemingly endless expanse of meadowland lay in the moonlight. It was obvious that out there the police officers would be able to pick me off like a rabbit, but I was also in a trap if I stayed in the wood. What ought I to do? Surrender? Von Strelitz would probably give orders for my immediate execution, so that no one would hear about the ministers’ plot. And suppose the agent himself was dead? Then the officers would very likely take instant revenge by shooting me down. I raced across the meadow, expecting a death-dealing bullet in my back at any second.