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The government were sitting in the King’s study, in a state of feverish anxiety and completely powerless. No one could say where the King was. Even the Major had disappeared. It was assumed that they had left the palace, taken refuge with the local authorities and were making arrangements there. But no one dared leave the building. From the windows they could see how the crowd outside had grown as night had fallen.

What was making them even more nervous was that, from somewhere inside the building, they could hear an indefinable sound — rattling, yelling, and then dying away — that gnawed away at their imagination: the sort of noise cattle make as they approach the abattoir.

“We should get to the bottom of this at least,” the Prime Minister said. “Secretary of State Salvid, you must deal with it. Go and see who is doing all this shouting, and why.”

“On my own?” the Secretary of State began, with horror in his voice.

He dared not go. Finally they all got up and set off towards the room where Pritanez was imprisoned.

By this stage Pritanez was quite beside himself.

“Major!” he was bawling, “Let me out. This is worse than being with a woman. I’m innocent. I’m innocent!”

The ministers looked at one another in amazement. Pritanez with a woman? Pritanez innocent? The man was clearly raving. Finally, with extreme caution, the Prime Minister unlocked the door, pulled at it, and immediately leapt to one side. The sudden opening had brought Pritanez tumbling out in a faint.

Four of them lifted him up and laid him down on a divan. They too were struck by the unusual size of the shirt and the collar that they unbuttoned at his neck. These totally incomprehensible details induced a sense of horror perhaps even greater than all the larger signs of a revolution at hand.

But their preoccupation with Pritanez was short-lived. He had barely begun to come to, when they heard the same roar from the square outside that King Oliver and Princess Ortrud heard from their apartments. Pritanez immediately fainted again.

“What was that?”

Everyone rushed to the window and gazed at the sea of people outside the palace. The noise out there was growing steadily louder.

Just then the Secretary of State, who had been sent to look for the King, came back into the room.

“He’s in Princess Ortrud’s apartments. Come quickly.”

They rushed out, abandoning the unconscious Finance Minister, and burst in on the couple in such great haste that all sense of etiquette was forgotten.

“Come away from the window, Your Highness!” the Prime Minister shouted from the far side of the room. “They can still see you!

Then the minister with responsibility for the press burst in:

“Your Highness: terrible news! They are demanding that you abdicate and hand over your ministers.”

The ministers cried out in horror.

“Aha — duty is not a bed of roses,” the King observed. “But what else can we do? I believe any resistance would be futile and dangerous. What can we possibly do against the raging tide of the people?”

“But all is not yet lost,” the Prime Minister remarked. “The Palace Guard … ”

As if on cue, Count Wermold, the Colonel of the Guard, appeared.

“I am ashamed to have to tell you,” he announced, “that the Twelfth Regiment, who were on duty, laid down their arms and went over to the insurgents as soon as the mob began to march.”

“So there you are, then,” said the King.

“But the house guards are still here,” the Prime Minister insisted. “They’ve got automatic weapons. They could machine gun the rebels from the palace windows.”

“What are you thinking?” the King shouted furiously. “Shed the blood of innocent people? Who do you think I am, Philip II or the One-Eared?”

“With our life and our blood!” the Colonel proclaimed. “We’ll form a ring around Your Highness and break out of the palace. Tomorrow morning I shall plan our campaign of resistance.”

“My dear Count, a gentleman’s first thought is not for himself but for defenceless women. The life of Princess Ortrud is by no means certain here. Your men must make that ring around her car and conduct her to the coast. There are Norlandian patrol ships at anchor off Bangar. You, Count, will answer with your life if a hair of the Princess’ head is harmed. Take her to safety.”

Numb with shock, the ministers understood that he was sending away his personal guard, their last line of defence. Ortrud looked at the King with tears in her eyes. She went up to him, and asked, in a low voice:

“Oliver, what will become of the two of us, you and me?”

“I did tell you, didn’t I?” he whispered. “The sea serpent. These things happen every day.”

“And now we shan’t be married?”

“Well, you know, just now isn’t really the time. We have to part now. Some other day.”

Ortrud burst into tears.

“When shall I see you again?”

“Perhaps in the summer. Then, somehow … ”

Looking straight ahead, and clearly troubled, he drew her aside.

“Believe me,” he went on. “I shall always love you. Such things don’t change. But now … now I have to find out what life is like, down there. Now go in good heart, Ortrud.”

“God be with you, Oliver.”

No sooner had she and the Colonel left the room than the Prime Minister dashed up to the King.

“Your Highness,” he spluttered. “Don’t give yourself up like this. It might still be possible to do something. Not just possible, but necessary. In the end, it’s not just a question of Your Highness’ skin but ours too.”

“I’m sorry, gentlemen, but we must make every sacrifice. You did say that you would accept your share of the odium attached to what we did. Well, now you must make that good!”

Mawiras-Tendal entered.

“Your Highness,” he announced. “The insurgents have occupied every place of strategic importance. I’ve just been informed that they have taken over the telephone exchange, the main post office and the railway station. Soldiers of the Twelfth Regiment have smashed the windows of the Norlandian Ambassador’s residence. Baron Birker was hit on the nose by a stone. The question now is whether they’ll take the Citadel.”

At that moment the roaring, which so far had been heard at a distance, seemed to come from within, from the palace itself. The throng was much closer now, was inside, running from room to room. Everyone’s face went pale, and their eyes instinctively looked around for somewhere to hide. They all knew, from their history books and from films, what it meant when the mob broke in to a royal palace.

“Stay where you are, all of you!” the King bellowed. “I’ll shoot anyone who tries to run. Major, you go on ahead. I shall meet the representatives of the people.”

Mawiras-Tendal left the room.

“And I must ask you gentlemen to do your best to put on a friendly face.”

A minute later the Major returned with Delorme, Sandoval, Zizigan and the rest.

The revolutionaries lined up respectfully against a wall.

The King greeted them amiably and asked them to explain their demands.

Delorme stepped forward and began an eloquent, carefully prepared speech.

“We are well aware,” he said, amongst other things, “that Your Highness was not to blame for signing this wretched document, but was led astray by your advisers, those wicked, incompetent ministers, whom the people will hold to account … ”