Part 64 (1/2)

”One other revenge I have which I shall keep till the last. It shall be as sweet to me as yours to you. I shall draw it out lingeringly that I may drain all its sweetness. It concerns the upstart springald whom the Princess Margaret had the bad taste to prefer to me. Not that I cared a jot for the Princess. My taste is far other” (here he looked up tenderly); ”but the Princess I must wed, as maid or widow I care not. I take her provinces, not herself; and these must be mine by right of fief and succession as well as by right of conquest. The way is clear. That piece of carrion which men called by a prince's name was carried out a while ago. Conrad the priest, who is a man, shall die like a man. And I, Ivan, and Holy Russia shall enter in. By the right of Margaret, sole heir of Courtland, city and province shall be mine; Kernsberg shall be mine; Hohenstein shall be mine. Then mayhap I will try a fall for Pla.s.senburg and the Mark with the Executioner's Son and his little housewife. But sweeter than all shall be my revenge upon the man I hate--upon him who took his betrothed wife from Ivan of Muscovy.”

”Ah,” said Theresa von Lynar, ”it will indeed be sweet! And what shall be your worthy and terrible revenge?”

”I have thought of it long--I have turned it over, this and that have I thought--of the smearing with honey and the anthill, of trepanning and the worms on the brain--but I have fixed at last upon something that will make the ears of the world tingle----”

He leaned forward and whispered into the ear of Theresa von Lynar the terrible death he had prepared for her only son. She nodded calmly as she listened, but a wonderful joy lit up the woman's face.

”I am glad I came hither,” she murmured, ”it is worth it all.”

Prince Ivan took her hand in both of his and pressed it fondly.

”And you shall be gladder yet,” he said, ”my Lady Theresa. I have something to say. I had not thought that there lived in the world any woman so like-minded, even as I knew not that there lived any woman so beautiful. Together you and I might rule the world. Shall it be together?”

”But, Prince Ivan,” she interposed quickly, but still smiling, ”what is this? I thought you were set on wedding the Princess Margaret. You were to make her first widow and then wife.”

”Theresa,” he said, looking amorously up at her, ”I marry for a kingdom.

But I wed the woman who is my mate. It is our custom. I must give the left hand, it is true, but with it the heart, my Theresa!”

He was on his knees before her now, still clasping her fingers.

”You consent?” he said, with triumph already in his tone.

”I do not say you nay!” she answered, with a sigh.

He kissed her hand and rose to his feet. He would have taken her in his arms, but a noise in the pavilion disturbed him. He went quickly to the curtain and peeped through.

”It is nothing,” he said, ”only the men come to fetch the powder for the Margraf's cannon. But the night speeds apace. In an hour we a.s.sault.”

With an eager look on his face he came nearer to her.

”Theresa,” he said, ”a soldier's wooing must needs be brisk and speedy.

Yours and mine yet swifter. Our revenge beckons us on. Do you abide here till I return--with those good friends whose names we have mentioned.

But now, ere I go forth, pledge me but once your love. This is our true betrothal. Say, 'I love you, Ivan!' that I may keep it in my heart till my return!”

Again he would have taken her in his arms, but Theresa turned quickly, finger on lip. She looked anxiously towards the back of the tent where lay the dead prince. ”Hus.h.!.+ I hear something!” she said.

Then she smiled upon him--a sudden radiance like suns.h.i.+ne through rain-clouds.

”Come with me--I am afraid of the dark!” she said, almost like a child.

For great is the guile of woman when her all is at stake.

Theresa von Lynar opened the latch of a horn lantern which dangled at a pole and took the taper in her left. She gave her right hand with a certain gesture of surrender to Prince Ivan.

”Come!” she said, and led him within the inner pavilion. A dim light sifted through the open flap by which the men had gone out with their load of powder. Day was breaking and a broad crimson bar lay across the path of the yet unrisen sun. Theresa and Prince Ivan stood beside the dead. He had been roughly thrown down on the pile of boxes which contained the powder manufactured by the Margraf's alchemists according to the famous receipt of Bertholdus Schwartz. The lid of the largest chest stood open, as if the men were returning for yet another burden.

”Quick!” she said, ”here in the presence of the dead, I will whisper it here, here and not elsewhere.”