The Iron Duke by L. Ron Hubbard

Author:L. Ron Hubbard [Hubbard, L. Ron]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Adventure, Action & Adventure
ISBN: 9781592126514
Publisher: Galaxy Press LLC.
Published: 2009-03-13T10:00:00+00:00

The master of the wardrobe had done marvels. Evidently the news had not been bruited about, for the master of the wardrobe had stared and fumbled at first, and then had settled down to a pleased purring. It is difficult to make a man look like anything who is drunk and cannot stand alone, and the inability to make an archduke look as an archduke should look had long depressed the master of the wardrobe. But lo! Evidently dreams did come true, for here was Philip as Philip should be, flat-backed, wide-shouldered, straight, poised, flawless. And the uniform of a general of dragoons went on him like paint.

And so it was, at ten-thirty, that Blacky Lee paced up and down the top of the palace steps and waited for his carriage. Stub was so impressed that he would not approach closer than twenty paces, and hung about in the courtyard all envy. But Stub at last saw that Blacky Lee was nervous and uncertain beneath a calm and steady exterior. Stub could not believe Blacky was really afraid to take that ride through the city streets, despite the dangerous aspects it had. Then what weighed so heavily upon Blacky’s mind?

The spring sunlight was warm and yellow in the old yard and laid the patterns of new leaves upon the mellow stones. A troop of hussars sat, red-jacketed and gold-plated, upon occasionally restive mounts, giving out a jingle or a creak at intervals. The movement of the leaves made the yellow helmets flash and gleam, and the gentle wind tossed the light plumes.

Blacky paced back and forth, back and forth. His shining knee-length boots were as soft as satin; his white breeches showed the clean line of his thigh; his scarlet coat was so perfectly built that it could not wrinkle with any body movement; his white crossbelts were studded with gold buckles, and a diamond-hilted sword swept down from them in a long, sparkling scabbard. His helmet had a massive chinstrap which nearly hid his mouth, and a loose plume of ribbons which made him look two feet taller. On the helmet front was a blazing device, the arms of Philip, Archduke of Aldoria.

Stub wished he could ask him what was wrong, but he did not dare, Blacky was too grand. But after a while Stub noticed that Blacky kept looking for someone, for his eyes roamed ever to the main gates, and each whir of wheels brought a slackening in his walk. Zita? Stub asked himself. No, it could not be Zita. Certainly not Zita! For Blacky Lee, who had had half the beauties of Europe look kindly upon him, had never looked twice at any woman—possibly for that very reason. And Zita was the last woman on Earth, thought Stub, that a man should aspire unto, for she could never be brought to curb. She was too headstrong and violent and quick of wit for anyone to control. Certainly Blacky Lee had more sense, too, than to cast eyes at a countess who would inevitably have to marry someone of her station.

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