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he is the most cordially hated man in all Lutha, and that
only those attend upon him who hope to profit through his
success or who fear his evil nature."
"If Peter is crowned today," asked Barney, "will it pre-
vent Leopold regaining his throne?"
"It is difficult to say," replied Butzow; "but the chances
are that the throne would be lost to him forever. To regain
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it he would have to plunge Lutha into a bitter civil war,
for once Peter is proclaimed king he will have the law
upon his side, and with the resources of the State behind
him--the treasury and the army--he will feel in no mood
to relinquish the scepter without a struggle. I doubt much
that you will ever sit upon your throne, sire, unless you do
so within the very next hour."
For some time Barney rode in silence. He saw that only
by a master stroke could the crown be saved for the true
king. Was it worth it? The man was happier without a
crown. Barney had come to believe that no man lived who
could be happy in possession of one. Then there came be-
fore his mind's eye the delicate, patrician face of Emma
von der Tann.
Would Peter of Blentz be true to his new promises to
the house of Von der Tann? Barney doubted it. He recalled
all that it might mean of danger and suffering to the girl
whose kisses he still felt upon his lips as though it had
been but now that hers had placed them there. He re-
called the limp little body of the boy, Rudolph, and the
Spartan loyalty with which the little fellow had given his
life in the service of the man he had thought king. The
pitiful figure of the fear-haunted man upon the iron cot at
Tafelberg rose before him and cried for vengeance.
To this man was the woman he loved betrothed! He
knew that he might never wed the Princess Emma. Even
were she not promised to another, the iron shackles of con-
vention and age-old customs must forever separate her from
an untitled American. But if he couldn't have her he still
could serve her!
"For her sake," he muttered.
"Did your majesty speak?" asked Butzow.
"Yes, lieutenant. We urge greater haste, for if we are to
be crowned today we have no time to lose."
Butzow smiled a relieved smile. The king had at last
regained his senses!
Within the ancient cathedral at Lustadt a great and gor-
geously attired assemblage had congregated. All the nobles
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of Lutha were gathered there with their wives, their chil-
dren, and their retainers. There were the newer nobility of
the lowlands--many whose patents dated but since the
regency of Peter--and there were the proud nobility of the
highlands--the old nobility of which Prince Ludwig von
der Tann was the chief.
It was noticeable that though a truce had been made
between Ludwig and Peter, yet the former chancellor of the
kingdom did not stand upon the chancel with the other
dignitaries of the State and court.
Few there were who knew that he had been invited to
occupy a place of honor there, and had replied that he
would take no active part in the making of any king in
Lutha whose veins did not pulse to the flow of the blood
of the house in whose service he had grown gray.
Close packed were the retainers of the old prince so that
their great number was scarcely noticeable, though quite so
was the fact that they kept their cloaks on, presenting a
somber appearance in the midst of all the glitter of gold
and gleam of jewels that surrounded them--a grim, business-
like appearance that cast a chill upon Peter of Blentz as his
eyes scanned the multitude of faces below him.
He would have shown his indignation at this seeming
affront had he dared; but until the crown was safely upon
his head and the royal scepter in his hand Peter had no
mind to do aught that might jeopardize the attainment of
the power he had sought for the past ten years.
The solemn ceremony was all but completed; the Bishop
of Lustadt had received the great golden crown from the
purple cushion upon which it had been borne at the head
of the procession which accompanied Peter up the broad
center aisle of the cathedral. He had raised it above the
head of the prince regent, and was repeating the solemn
words which precede the placing of the golden circlet upon
the man's brow. In another moment Peter of Blentz would
be proclaimed the king of Lutha.
By her father's side stood Emma von der Tann. Upon
her haughty, high-bred face there was no sign of the emo-
tions which ran riot within her fair bosom. In the act that
she was witnessing she saw the eventual ruin of her father's
house. That Peter would long want for an excuse to break
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and humble his ancient enemy she did not believe; but
this was not the only cause for the sorrow that overwhelmed
her.
Her most poignant grief, like that of her father, was for
the dead king, Leopold; but to the sorrow of the loyal sub-
ject was added the grief of the loving woman, bereft. Close
to her heart she hugged the memory of the brief hours spent
with the man whom she had been taught since childhood to
look upon as her future husband, but for whom the all-
consuming fires of love had only been fanned to life within
her since that moment, now three weeks gone, that he had
crushed her to his breast to cover her lips with kisses for
the short moment ere he sacrificed his life to save her from a
fate worse than death.
Before her stood the Nemesis of her dead king. The last
act of the hideous crime against the man she had loved was
nearing its close. As the crown, poised over the head of Peter
of Blentz, sank slowly downward the girl felt that she could
scarce restrain her desire to shriek aloud a protest against
the wicked act--the crowning of a murderer king of her
beloved Lutha.
A glance at the old man at her side showed her the stern,
commanding features of her sire molded in an expression of
haughty dignity; only the slight movement of the muscles of
the strong jaw revealed the tensity of the hidden emotions
of the stern old warrior. He was meeting disappointment and
defeat as a Von der Tann should--brave to the end.
The crown had all but touched the head of Peter of
Blentz when a sudden commotion at the back of the cathe-
dral caused the bishop to look up in ill-concealed annoy-
ance. At the sight that met his eyes his hands halted in
mid-air.
The great audience turned as one toward the doors at
the end of the long central aisle. There, through the wide-
swung portals, they saw mounted men forcing their way into
the cathedral. The great horses shouldered aside the foot-
soldiers that attempted to bar their way, and twenty troop-
ers of the Royal Horse thundered to the very foot of the
chancel steps.
At their head rode Lieutenant Butzow and a tall young
man in soiled and tattered khaki, whose gray eyes and full
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reddish-brown beard brought an exclamation from Captain
Maenck who commanded the guard about Peter of Blentz.
"Mein Gott--the king!" cried Maenck, and at the words
Peter went white.
In open-mouthed astonishment the spectators saw the
hurrying troopers and heard Butzow's "The king! The king!
Make way for Leopold, King of Lutha!"
And a girl saw, and as she saw her heart leaped to her
mouth. Her small hand gripped the sleeve of her father's
coat. "The king, father," she cried. "It is the king."
Old Von der Tann, the light of a new hope firing his eyes,
threw aside his cloak and leaped to the chancel steps beside
Butzow and the others who were mounting them. Behind
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