Delphi Collected Works of Edgar Rice Burroughs (Illustrated) (Series Four Book 26)

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

  “If we must bow to the surrender of our national integrity, let us do so only after we have exhausted every resource of the country in our country’s defense. In the past your majesty has not appeared to realize the menace of your most powerful neighbor. I beg of you, sire, to trust me. Believe that I have only the interests of Lutha at heart, and let us work together for the salvation of our country and your majesty’s throne.”

  Barney laid his hand upon the old man’s shoulder. It seemed a shame to carry the deception further, but the American well knew that only so could he accomplish aught for Lutha or the Von der Tanns. Once the old chancellor suspected the truth as to his identity he would be the first to denounce him.

  “I think that you and I can work together, Prince Ludwig,” he said. “I have sent for the Serbian and Austrian ministers. The former should be here immediately.”

  Nor did they have long to wait before the tall Slav was announced. Barney lost no time in getting down to business. He asked no questions. What Von der Tann had told him, what he had seen with his own eyes since he had entered Lutha, and what he had overheard in the inn at Burgova was sufficient evidence that the fate of Lutha hung upon the prompt and energetic decisions of the man who sat upon Lutha’s throne for the next few days.

  Had Leopold been the present incumbent Lutha would have been lost, for that he would play directly into the hands of Austria was not to be questioned. Were Von der Tann to seize the reins of government a state of revolution would exist that would divide the state into two bitter factions, weaken its defense, and give Austria what she most desired — a plausible pretext for intervention.

  Lutha’s only hope lay in united defense of her liberties under the leadership of the one man whom all acknowledged king — Leopold. Very well, Barney Custer, of Beatrice, would be Leopold for a few days, since the real Leopold had proven himself incompetent to meet the emergency.

  General Petko, the Serbian minister to Lutha, brought to the audience the memory of a series of unpleasant encounters with the king. Leopold had never exerted himself to hide his pro-Austrian sentiments. Austria was a powerful country — Serbia, a relatively weak neighbor. Leopold, being a royal snob, had courted the favor of the emperor and turned up his nose at Serbia. The general was prepared for a repetition of the veiled affronts that Leopold delighted in according him; but this time he brought with him a reply that for two years he had been living in the hope of some day being able to deliver to the young monarch he so cordially despised.

  It was an ultimatum from his government — an ultimatum couched in terms from which all diplomatic suavity had been stripped. If Barney Custer, of Beatrice, could have read it he would have smiled, for in plain American it might have been described as announcing to Leopold precisely “where he got off.” But Barney did not have the opportunity to read it, since that ultimatum was never delivered.

  Barney took the wind all out of it by his first words. “Your excellency may wonder why it is that we have summoned you at such an early hour,” he said.

  General Petko inclined his head in deferential acknowledgment of the truth of the inference.

  “It is because we have learned from our chancellor,” continued the American, “that Serbia has mobilized an entire army corps upon the Luthanian frontier. Am I correctly informed?”

  General Petko squared his shoulders and bowed in assent. At the same time he reached into his breast-pocket for the ultimatum.

  “Good!” exclaimed Barney, and then he leaned close to the ear of the Serbian. “How long will it take to move that army corps to Lustadt?”

  General Petko gasped and returned the ultimatum to his pocket.

  “Sire!” he cried, his face lighting with incredulity. “You mean—”

  “I mean,” said the American, “that if Serbia will loan Lutha an army corps until the Austrians have evacuated Luthanian territory, Lutha will loan Serbia an army corps until such time as peace is declared between Serbia and Austria. Other than this neither government will incur any obligations to the other.

  “We may not need your help, but it will do us no harm to have them well on the way toward Lustadt as quickly as possible. Count Zellerndorf will be here in a few minutes. We shall, through him, give Austria twenty-four hours to withdraw all her troops beyond our frontiers. The army of Lutha is mobilized before Lustadt. It is not a large army, but with the help of Serbia it should be able to drive the Austrians from the country, provided they do not leave of their own accord.”

  General Petko smiled. So did the American and the chancellor. Each knew that Austria would not withdraw her army from Lutha.

  “With your majesty’s permission I will withdraw,” said the Serbian, “and transmit Lutha’s proposition to my government; but I may say that your majesty need have no apprehension but that a Serbian army corps will be crossing into Lutha before noon today.”

  “And now, Prince Ludwig,” said the American after the Serbian had bowed himself out of the apartment, “I suggest that you take immediate steps to entrench a strong force north of Lustadt along the road to Blentz.”

  Von der Tann smiled as he replied. “It is already done, sire,” he said.

  “But I passed in along the road this morning,” said Barney, “and saw nothing of such preparations.”

  “The trenches and the soldiers were there, nevertheless, sire,” replied the old man, “only a little gap was left on either side of the highway that those who came and went might not suspect our plans and carry word of them to the Austrians. A few hours will complete the link across the road.”

  “Good! Let it be completed at once. Here is Count Zellerndorf now,” as the minister was announced.

  Von der Tann bowed himself out as the Austrian entered the king’s presence. For the first time in two years the chancellor felt that the destiny of Lutha was safe in the hands of her king. What had caused the metamorphosis in Leopold he could not guess. He did not seem to be the same man that had whined and growled at their last audience a week before.

  The Austrian minister entered the king’s presence with an expression of ill-concealed surprise upon his face. Two days before he had left Leopold safely ensconced at Blentz, where he was to have remained indefinitely. He glanced hurriedly about the room in search of Prince Peter or another of the conspirators who should have been with the king. He saw no one. The king was speaking. The Austrian’s eyes went wider, not only at the words, but at the tone of voice.

  “Count Zellerndorf,” said the American, “you were doubtless aware of the embarrassment under which the king of Lutha was compelled at Blentz to witness the entry of a foreign army within his domain. But we are not now at Blentz. We have summoned you that you may receive from us, and transmit to your emperor, the expression of our surprise and dismay at the unwarranted violation of Luthanian neutrality.”

  “But, your majesty—” interrupted the Austrian.

  “But nothing, your excellency,” snapped the American. “The moment for diplomacy is passed; the time for action has come. You will oblige us by transmitting to your government at once a request that every Austrian soldier now in Lutha be withdrawn by noon tomorrow.”

  Zellerndorf looked his astonishment.

  “Are you mad, sire?” he cried. “It will mean war!”

  “It is what Austria has been looking for,” snapped the American, “and what people look for they usually get, especially if they chance to be looking for trouble. When can you expect a reply from Vienna?”

  “By noon, your majesty,” replied the Austrian, “but are you irretrievably bound to your present policy? Remember the power of Austria, sire. Think of your throne. Think—”

  “We have thought of everything,” interrupted Barney. “A throne means less to us than you may imagine, count; but the honor of Lutha means a great deal.”

  CHAPTER XI

  THE BATTLE

  At five o’clock that afternoon the sidewalks bordering Margaretha Street were crowded with promenaders. The little table
s before the cafes were filled. Nearly everyone spoke of the great war and of the peril which menaced Lutha. Upon many a lip was open disgust at the supine attitude of Leopold of Lutha in the face of an Austrian invasion of his country. Discontent was open. It was ripening to something worse for Leopold than an Austrian invasion.

  Presently a sergeant of the Royal Horse Guards cantered down the street from the palace. He stopped here and there, and, dismounting, tacked placards in conspicuous places. At the notice, and in each instance cheers and shouting followed the sergeant as he rode on to the next stop.

  Now, at each point men and women were gathered, eagerly awaiting an explanation of the jubilation farther up the street. Those whom the sergeant passed called to him for an explanation, and not receiving it, followed in a quickly growing mob that filled Margaretha Street from wall to wall. When he dismounted he had almost to fight his way to the post or door upon which he was to tack the next placard. The crowd surged about him in its anxiety to read what the placard bore, and then, between the cheering and yelling, those in the front passed back to the crowd the tidings that filled them with so great rejoicing.

  “Leopold has declared war on Austria!” “The king calls for volunteers!” “Long live the king!”

  The battle of Lustadt has passed into history. Outside of the little kingdom of Lutha it received but passing notice by the world at large, whose attention was riveted upon the great conflicts along the banks of the Meuse, the Marne, and the Aisne. But in Lutha! Ah, it will be told and retold, handed down from mouth to mouth and from generation to generation to the end of time.

  How the cavalry that the king sent north toward Blentz met the advancing Austrian army. How, fighting, they fell back upon the infantry which lay, a thin line that stretched east and west across the north of Lustadt, in its first line of trenches. A pitifully weak line it was, numerically, in comparison with the forces of the invaders; but it stood its ground heroically, and from the heights to the north of the city the fire from the forts helped to hold the enemy in check for many hours.

  And then the enemy succeeded in bringing up their heavy artillery to the ridge that lies three miles north of the forts. Shells were bursting in the trenches, the forts, and the city. To the south a stream of terror-stricken refugees was pouring out of Lustadt along the King’s Road. Rich and poor, animated by a common impulse, filled the narrow street that led to the city’s southern gate. Carts drawn by dogs, laden donkeys, French limousines, victorias, wheelbarrows — every conceivable wheeled vehicle and beast of burden — were jammed in a seemingly inextricable tangle in the mad rush for safety.

  Rumor passed back and forth through the fleeing thousands. Now came word that Fort No. 2 had been silenced by the Austrian guns. Immediately followed news that the Luthanian line was falling back upon the city. Fear turned to panic. Men fought to outdistance their neighbors.

  A shell burst upon a roof-top in an adjoining square.

  Women fainted and were trampled. Hoarse shouts of anger mingled with screams of terror, and then into the midst of it from Margaretha Street rode a man on horseback. Behind him were a score of officers. A trumpeter raised his instrument to his lips, and above the din of the fleeing multitude rose the sharp, triple call that announces the coming of the king. The mob halted and turned.

  Looking down upon them from his saddle was Leopold of Lutha. His palm was raised for silence and there was a smile upon his lips. Quite suddenly, and as by a miracle, fear left them. They made a line for him and his staff to ride through. One of the officers turned in his saddle to address a civilian friend in an automobile.

  “His majesty is riding to the firing line,” he said and he raised his voice that many might hear. Quickly the word passed from mouth to mouth, and as Barney Custer, of Beatrice, passed along Margaretha Street he was followed by a mad din of cheering that drowned the booming of the distant cannon and the bursting of the shells above the city.

  The balance of the day the pseudo-king rode back and forth along his lines. Three of his staff were killed and two horses were shot from beneath him, but from the moment that he appeared the Luthanian line ceased to waver or fall back. The advanced trenches that they had abandoned to the Austrians they took again at the point of the bayonet. Charge after charge they repulsed, and all the time there hovered above the enemy Lutha’s sole aeroplane, watching, watching, ever watching for the coming of the allies. Somewhere to the northeast the Serbians were advancing toward Lustadt. Would they come in time?

  It was five o’clock in the morning of the second day, and though the Luthanian line still held, Barney Custer knew that it could not hold for long. The Austrian artillery fire, which had been rather wild the preceding day, had now become of deadly accuracy. Each bursting shell filled some part of the trenches with dead and wounded, and though their places were taken by fresh men from the reserve, there would soon be no reserve left to call upon.

  At his left, in the rear, the American had massed the bulk of his reserves, and at the foot of the heights north of the city and just below the forts the major portion of the cavalry was drawn up in the shelter of a little ravine. Barney’s eyes were fixed upon the soaring aeroplane.

  In his hand was his watch. He would wait another fifteen minutes, and if by then the signal had not come that the Serbians were approaching, he would strike the blow that he had decided upon. From time to time he glanced at his watch.

  The fifteen minutes had almost elapsed when there fluttered from the tiny monoplane a paper parachute. It dropped for several hundred feet before it spread to the air pressure and floated more gently toward the earth and a moment later there burst from its basket a puff of white smoke. Two more parachutes followed the first and two more puffs of smoke. Then the machine darted rapidly off toward the northeast.

  Barney turned to Prince von der Tann with a smile. “They are none too soon,” he said.

  The old prince bowed in acquiescence. He had been very happy for two days. Lutha might be defeated now, but she could never be subdued. She had a king at last — a real king. Gott! How he had changed. It reminded Prince von der Tann of the day he had ridden beside the impostor two years before in the battle with the forces of Peter of Blentz. Many times he had caught himself scrutinizing the face of the monarch, searching for some proof that after all he was not Leopold.

  “Direct the commanders of forts three and four to concentrate their fire on the enemy’s guns directly north of Fort No. 3,” Barney directed an aide. “Simultaneously let the cavalry and Colonel Kazov’s infantry make a determined assault on the Austrian trenches.”

  Then he turned his horse toward the left of his line, where, a little to the rear, lay the fresh troops that he had been holding in readiness against this very moment. As he galloped across the plain, his staff at his heels, shrapnel burst about them. Von der Tann spurred to his side.

  “Sire,” he cried, “it is unnecessary that you take such grave risks. Your staff is ready and willing to perform such service that you may be preserved to your people and your throne.”

  “I believe the men fight better when they think their king is watching them,” said the American simply.

  “I know it, sire,” replied Von der Tann, “but even so, Lutha could ill afford to lose you now. I thank God, your majesty, that I have lived to see this day — to see the last of the Rubinroths upholding the glorious traditions of the Rubinroth blood.”

  Barney led the reserves slowly through the wood to the rear of the extreme left of his line. The attack upon the Austrian right center appeared to be meeting with much greater success than the American dared to hope for. Already, through his glasses, he could see indications that the enemy was concentrating a larger force at this point to repulse the vicious assaults of the Luthanians. To do this they must be drawing from their reserves back of other portions of their line.

  It was what Barney had desired. The three bombs from the aeroplane had told him that the Serbians had been sighted three miles away. Alread
y they were engaging the Austrians. He could hear the rattle of rifles and quick-firers and the roar of cannon far to the northeast. And now he gave the word to the commander of the reserve.

  At a rapid trot the men moved forward behind the extreme left end of the Luthanian left wing. They were almost upon the Austrians before they emerged from the shelter of the wood, and then with hoarse shouts and leveled bayonets they charged the enemy’s position. The fight there was the bloodiest of the two long days. Back and forth the tide of battle surged. In the thick of it rode the false king encouraging his men to greater effort. Slowly at last they bore the Austrians from their trenches. Back and back they bore them until retreat became a rout. The Austrian right was crumpled back upon its center!

  Here the enemy made a determined stand; but just before dark a great shouting arose from the heights to their left, where the bulk of their artillery was stationed. Both the Luthanian and Austrian troops engaged in the plain saw Austrian infantry and artillery running down the slopes in disorderly rout. Upon their heads came a cheering line of soldiers firing as they ran, and above them waved the battleflag of Serbia.

  A mighty shout rose from the Luthanian ranks — an answering groan from the throats of the Austrians. Hemmed in between the two lines of allies, the Austrians were helpless. Their artillery was captured, retreat cut off. There was but a single alternative to massacre — the white flag.

  A few regiments between Lustadt and Blentz, but nearer the latter town, escaped back into Austria, the balance Barney arranged with the Serbian minister to have taken back to Serbia as prisoners of war. The Luthanian army corps that the American had promised the Serbs was to be utilized along the Austrian frontier to prevent the passage of Austrian troops into Serbia through Lutha.

  The return to Lustadt after the battle was made through cheering troops and along streets choked with joy-mad citizenry. The name of the soldier-king was upon every tongue. Men went wild with enthusiasm as the tall figure rode slowly through the crowd toward the palace.