On the night of the 9th of June a string of royal carriages drew up before the old castle of Hohenschwangau. Count Holnstein, who sat in the foremost of them, proceeded at once to the royal stables to inform the personnel that it was to be dispersed. The coachman, Osterholzer, was in the act of harnessing the horses to Ludwig's carriage, for the King, according to his custom, wished to drive out in the course of the night. The Count ordered that the horses should be taken out at once, as another carriage was in readiness, with another coachman to drive it. Osterholzer pleaded his master's orders. "The King has nothing more to order," answered Holnstein. "It is his Royal Highness, Prince Luitpold, who now reigns." [33] The coachman understood that there was a plot against the King. He took the horses back to the stable. As quickly as his legs could carry him he thereupon ran by a steep woodland path up to Neuschwanstein, where he informed the valet on duty, Weber, what had occurred. Ludwig was walking up and down in the brightly lighted concert hall, declaiming in a loud voice parts of an opera which had lately been dedicated to him. Osterholzer rushed breathlessly in, throwing himself on his knees before him, and in his excitement able only to stammer forth some incoherent words. The King did not understand him; he beckoned Weber to him, and asked what was the meaning of this scene. The valet explained that Count Holnstein and some other gentlemen had arrived at Hohenschwangau, and that traitorous designs on his Majesty were entertained. Osterholzer implored him to flee at once; Weber, too, offered his assistance. Ludwig refused the offer. "Why should I flee?" he asked. "If any real danger threatened me, Karl would have written to me"! "Karl" was the court functionary Hesselschwerdt, in whom, even at this moment, he placed his trust. After some consideration he, nevertheless, gave orders that his servants should assemble. "Run as quickly as possible," said he. "Call all loyal peasants here to protect their King!" The stablemen and men-servants hurried away, and raised the alarm in the neighbouring villages. Hardly an hour had passed before Hohenschwangau was swarming with peasants armed with knives, and carrying axes and scythes across their shoulders. Füssen, the town nearest to Hohenschwangau, sent her fire-brigade, and the chief of the police stationed there appeared with all his men. As nobody had any knowledge of what had occurred in Munich, there was every ground to suppose that an attack on the King's person was intended. All were ready to risk their life in order to rescue him.