Long Live the King, Guy Boothby [red queen ebook TXT] 📗

heavy cannonading and the shrieking of shells. It was the ruse which they had arranged to adopt in order to make the enemy believe that the principal attack would take place on that side. Panting after their swim, the men clambered up the bank, which was now littered with fragments of masonry. A breach between thirty and forty feet in length had been made in the wall, and through this they dashed. In the city, by this time, the bells were pealing and bugles sounding. The street, however, immediately behind the breach was empty, and now a distance of scarcely a hundred yards separated them from the main gate.

"On, on, my lads!" cried Max; and with his party behind him he dashed along the thoroughfare. As he was well aware, the success of their enterprise depended upon the next few minutes. If they could not capture the gate, all the rest was useless. At last they reached the corner of the street in which stands the ancient church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul. It looked very peaceful in its white mantle, but, sad to say, that mantle was destined to be stained with crimson soon enough. Only a few yards now separated them from the gate, and already, by the light of the great lantern above the arch, they could discern the hurrying figures of the guard.

"Charge!" cried Max, in a voice that rang through the deserted square like a trumpet-call. A moment later, they were upon the enemy, and the ghastly carnage had commenced. Never before had the old church looked down upon such a scene. The issue, however, was never for a moment in doubt. Outnumbered as they were, desperate as were their efforts to hold the gate, the struggle had scarcely begun before it was ended. The main entrance to the city being now in their possession, Max struck a match and applied it to the precious rocket he had brought with him for that purpose. There was a slight hissing noise, and then the fiery note of triumph shot up into the darkness, throwing out myriad blue lights to acquaint the troops who were waiting outside that the capture of the gate had been effected. By this time, however, the guns which had been trained upon the bridge from the market square were manned by gunners, and a hail of grape was showered upon the gallant little band. The keys of the gate were, of course, in the possession of the governor of the city, but Max knew that before many minutes could elapse the engineers would be blowing it in, as if it were of tissue paper. All this time the three guns were doing terrible execution. Almost half of his small force had fallen, and he knew that unless they were stopped certain death would be the portion of the remainder.

"Those guns must be silenced!" he cried. "Forward, my lads, and let us do it!"

The gallant fellows replied with a cheer, and, regardless of the storm of bullets that was being poured in upon them, dashed across the stones of the market-place towards the spot where the guns stood. It was madness even to dream that they could be successful, but the madness, if madness it were, was certainly heroic. Rudolf Kellerman, the giant corporal of Max's own company, fell, shot through the heart, before they had advanced ten yards; fair-haired Otto Stedicz, who looked like a poet, and who fought like a devil, was struck down a few yards further on. The heavy fire was more than flesh and blood could face, and for a moment the men wavered. Max, however, called to them to come on. Gaining fresh courage by his example, they hurled themselves upon the gunners. Once there nothing could stand against them. The men went down like corn before the sickle. They had scarcely captured them, however, before the welcome sound of an explosion reached them from the main gate. The great doors, which had remained closed for so long, were burst asunder, and immediately our troops poured into the city. Furious cannonading was still proceeding on the other side, while the garrison, roused from sleep, and surrounded on every hand, were unable to tell what to do or whom to attack first. One portion of the troops hastened to the west side, the remainder, marching to the east, were met by the brigade which had entered through the main gate. Meanwhile, another strong detachment of our army had crossed the river, and having made its way in, by means of the breach by which Max and his party had entered, passed quickly through the streets to the great square of the city, thus effectually preventing the two forces from joining company again. So swiftly and well were these arrangements carried out, that no hitch of any sort occurred, and though for some little time the fighting was very severe in certain quarters, when day dawned the enemy's general, seeing how futile further resistance would be, capitulated, and thus the city fell into our hands.

All the arrangements having been completed, and as soon as General Groplau was at liberty to think of other things, he gave orders that inquiries should be made concerning the whereabouts of the man to whom their great success was mainly due.

To take up the thread of my story again at the point where I left off, in order to describe the victory gained by our troops, it is necessary that I should revert to the disastrous effect upon Max's small force. Feeling sure that it would only be a question of time before the guns would be retaken from him, and realising that if they were left in their present position, they would in all human probability be turned upon the brigade now entering by the main gate, he and his men between them dragged them from the spot to a dark alley on the other side of the square, where it was unlikely they would be found in time to work further mischief. They had scarcely done this before they, in their turn, were compelled to beat a retreat before a regiment that was coming towards them at the double. Nothing was left, therefore, but for them to ascend the steps leading to the old church to which I have before referred. Seeing them, the enemy poured a volley into the portico of the sacred building, and then prepared to drive them out with the bayonet. Here, however, the small band that was left had somewhat of an advantage. Being in the dark themselves, and having what light there was in front of them, they could see their foes, who could not see them. Wearied, however, as they were, it was impossible that they could hold out for long. The pile of the dead that lay at the foot of the steps when dawn broke was a proof, if any were wanted, of the gallantry with which they fought. It was not long before a force was despatched to their assistance, and the enemy retired, having lost thirty men in that short encounter.

"Who are you, and how do you come to be here?" inquired the officer of the relieving force, as he ascended the steps. Max informed him, but had scarcely sufficient strength left to articulate the words. When he had finished he fell back against the wall, knowing that he was wounded, and believing it to be to the death. The officer--it was Fritz von Mulhaus--caught him in his arms before he could touch the ground, while Bertram, who was unwounded, hastened to his side. Between them they laid him gently down.

"Let me lie so," said Max; "I think it is all over with me now. Can you tell me if the city is ours?"

"There is not the least doubt about it, I should say," Mulhaus replied. "And if it is, we owe it to you."

"And to the brave fellows who accompanied me," answered Max, faintly. "I could have done nothing without them. And now you must not stay with me. I shall be quite comfortable here."

But Mulhaus would not be sent away. Whatever the circumstances might be, he would not leave him until he had seen him conveyed to a house near by, and until he himself had given orders that a surgeon should be sent for.

"Have you discovered what became of the man who led the storming party?" inquired General Groplau, when his aide-de-camp returned to the house which he had made his headquarters.

"I have seen him, sir," the officer replied; "and I have questioned the surgeon who is attending him. If he is not a dead man by this time, he very soon will be."

"That is sad news, indeed," answered the general. "He was a brave man, and there is no doubt that we owe all our success to him. I should have liked to have presented him to Prince Paul. He would have rewarded him as he deserves. Well, well, it's the fortune of war."

Two hours earlier I had crossed the Border, and at mid-day, if all went well, I should be with the army. At ten o'clock, as we halted in a tiny village, news was brought me from the front, and, for the first time, I learnt the story of the city's downfall. The officer who brought it gave me a description of a certain private soldier's bravery, and informed me that the brave fellow was reported to be mortally wounded.

"God grant he may live till I have an opportunity of giving him my thanks for the service he has rendered his king and country."

Then turning to one of the equerries, with whom Max had played as a boy, I continued, "This is a deed which the king would have loved to share."

Then we pushed on for the city, little knowing the surprise that awaited me there.


CHAPTER XX.


It was with feelings of the liveliest gratitude to Providence, and pride in our gallant soldiers, that I reached the city of Zaarfburg, some ten hours or so after its capitulation. A large proportion of the army corps which had so long invested it was drawn up on the plain to receive me. The remainder were occupied in the city itself, where also, at the time of my arrival, was General Groplau himself, busied with affairs of State. A more triumphal progress than I made through the cheering soldiery could scarcely be imagined; indeed, if any proof were wanting of the popularity of the return of our house to Pannonia, it might have been discovered in their enthusiasm. For the time being discipline appeared to be thrown to the winds; helmets were waved on bayonet points, salvo after salvo of cheering followed me along the line, until, at one point, it was with the utmost difficulty I could urge my horse forward, so eager were the men to press about me and to assure me of their loyalty and devotion. At last, however, we reached the bridge, the same which leads to the now famous city. What would I not have given to have had Ottilie beside me then? It was a moment to be remembered all one's life long. As I write, the whole scene rises before my eyes. Once more I can see the old stone gateway, the long wall on either side of it, broken in one place, where Max and his storming party had made their desperate entry, and from the gateway itself General Groplau and his staff advancing to receive me. There were tears in the old man's eyes as he came forward to welcome me in the name of the army, and an unaccustomed huskiness in his voice as he