One by one the members of the Council staggered to their feet. The coming of the King was like a bombshell thrown amongst them. They were met in secret conclave, a proceeding to the last degree unconstitutional. They were receiving, too, an emissary from a foreign country which amounted to high treason. Doxis was perhaps the first to recover himself.
“Your Majesty’s coming is unexpected,” he said. “I trust that there is no ill news from the seat of war.”
“There is no news, save good news,” the King answered, having handed a chair to Marie. “Yesterday’s battle you all know about. I will tell you the prospects later. Meanwhile, I see that you have a stranger here. What has Monsieur Gourdolis to say to us?”
Gourdolis rose slowly to his feet. He was a man of resource, a shrewd and ready diplomatist. Already he was scheming how to turn to his own advantage the King’s unexpected presence. He played a bold card.
“Your Majesty,” he said, respectfully, “it was painful to me to put forward my master’s propositions to the Council of the House of Laws in your absence, it is still more painful to do so in your presence. I speak, however, to the representatives of a nation whose liberty and whose very existence is threatened, and I offer them—in a word—salvation. That is my excuse for my presence here to-day.”
“What your offer really amounts to is no doubt the Russian yoke instead of the Turkish,” Ughtred remarked, bitterly. “My forefathers have tasted more than once of Muscovite generosity.”
Gourdolis shook his head gravely.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “you wrong my country, and my master. Our demands are very simple, and I lay the terms of them here upon the table. The only conditions upon which I regret to say that my master is immovable is the immediate abdication of your Majesty.”
The King sat with unchanged face.
“In favour of whom?” he asked.
“Nicholas, Duke of Reist!”
“Is the Duke of Reist cognizant of this, and willing to accept the throne?” the King asked.
“He is, your Majesty,” Baron Doxis answered.
Marie rose to her feet.
“It is false,” she declared. “My brother is a patriot, and he has taken the oath of allegiance to the King. I pledge my word for his that he will keep that oath.”
A murmur of blank amazement was followed by a dead silence. Gourdolis was speechless. The King looked around him, sternly.
“Have I by chance stumbled upon a conspiracy?” he asked. “What do you say, Taverner, and you, Valgrosse? Did you come here prepared to listen to such a proposition as this?”
“Indeed, your Majesty,” Taverner answered, hastily, “I did not.”
“Nor I!” Valgrosse echoed.
“What about you, Doxis?” the King asked.
The old Baron, who, for many years had been chairman of the House of Laws, rose slowly to his feet.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “I will admit that I alone of those present here had some knowledge of this proposal. I hope that your Majesty will not look upon my presence here as disloyal or unseemly. Only in my heart is deep engraven the love of my country and her people, and the one dread of my life has been the coming of the Turk. Your Majesty, no one has been a more sincere admirer than myself of the wise and careful manner in which you have ruled this country. Young though you are, you have more than fulfilled our most sanguine expectations. Only I fear that unaided we may as well hope to stem the tide of the mighty Danube as repel this Turkish invasion.”
“You have spoken like a true man, Doxis,” the King said. “Yet I must remind you that your presence here is akin to treason. What of the oath of loyalty which you swore to me only a few months ago?”
“Your Majesty,” Doxis answered, “I have not broken that oath. I am here only to listen to what these proposals may be. That, I take it, is the position also of my colleagues.”
A murmur of assent. Gourdolis remained standing, his papers in his hands.
“Your Majesty will forgive me if I assert that there is no treason involved in the presence of any one here. I summoned those to meet me whom I knew to be real and true patriots—who would not hesitate at a small thing to secure their country’s freedom.”
The King faced him scornfully.
“We have heard, Monsieur Gourdolis,” he said, “of the freedom of those countries whom your beneficent master has taken under his wing. Councillors, I think more highly of your intelligence than to imagine that you are to be suborned by such clumsy intriguing as this. Freedom is one thing, the yoke of Russia another. I will tell you some of the considerations which Monsieur Gourdolis has presently to propose to you. The custom-houses are to be controlled by Russia. The appointment of all government officials is to be sanctioned by her. Our foreign policy is to be her foreign policy. The army is to be officered by Russians, and Russian is to be taught in the schools. These things are amongst your conditions. Is it not so, Monsieur Gourdolis?”
Gourdolis hesitated, and his chance was gone.
“You have employed spies,” he muttered.
“Not I!” the King answered. “Yet I know your terms as they were proposed to Nicholas of Reist, and it amazes me only that you should have expected men in whose hands remain the destinies of their country to give you even a patient hearing. My Councillors, give this man the answer his insolent mission deserves, and let him be shown across the frontier. We will before long show Europe how we deal with our enemies. The Turks are not yet at the gates of the city.”
There was a murmur of respectful enthusiasm. Gourdolis smiled a very evil smile.
“Not yet,” he murmured, “but the end is not far off.”
Baron Doxis rose up.
“Your Majesty,” he announced, “our answer is unanimous. We have been misled by Baron Domiloff, both as to the nature of Monsieur Gourdolis’s mission and the attitude of the Duke of Reist. We reject his terms. We decline once and for all to treat with him. We trust to God and to you to keep the enemy from our gates.”
The King smiled upon them.
“I thank you all,” he said, “for your confidence. Let me add that I believe the day will come when you will be heartily thankful that you gave this man the answer he deserved. The importance of our victory yesterday has, I find, been wilfully minimized in the city, but I can assure you that with only a very trifling loss we withstood an attack on the part of the whole Turkish forces. I have, however, better news than that for you. The greatest nation in the world would seem to have espoused our cause. Yesterday afternoon the English Ambassador at Constantinople presented an ultimatum to the Sultan, demanding the withdrawal of his forces from the frontier of Theos. The Press throughout Europe have announced the fact this morning.”
Baron Doxis rose hurriedly to his feet.
“Your Majesty,” he exclaimed, in broken tones, “permit me, on the part of your Councillors and myself, to express our unbounded confidence both in your military skill and in your diplomacy. Theos has found a second Rudolph.”
The King smiled faintly.
“We are an instance,” he said, “of an ancient nation who has benefited by the great new power of this generation. My diplomatic appeal to the English Government would have been of no avail but for the wonderful espousal of our cause by the whole British Press. That we owe to one who has been living amongst us, and who has three times within the last few days narrowly escaped assassination by the friends of Baron Domiloff. Monsieur Gourdolis, you have your answer.”
Gourdolis remained imperturbable. He bowed to Baron Doxis, and moved towards the door. Then he faced the King.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “has a singularly dramatic knack of turning up in unexpected places and at unexpected times. May that faculty not desert you during the next few days.”
He closed the door and departed. The King rose to his feet.
“Baron Doxis,” he said, “I leave the charge of the city in your hands. I return at once to the front. There is no telegraphic communication between the headquarters of the Turkish Commander-in-Chief and Constantinople, and in any case it is well to be prepared. Countess of Reist, will you favour me for one moment?”
She led him into her own little room, and placed her hands in his.
“We are friends?” he asked.
“If your Majesty can really pardon me,” she answered, fervently, “—for always.”
“And Brand?” the King asked.
Her cheeks burned with a sudden rush of colour.
“You may tell him,” she said, “after to-morrow.”
Into the black night across the level plain which stretched between Theos and the pass of Althea a woman rode as one rides a race with death. Her servants had been left far away behind—her horse’s sides were streaked with foam, once or twice he had swerved and almost unseated her. She plied him with whip and spur, and passionate words. It was for the honour of a great race, for her own salvation that she rode. All was well as yet. The lights of the camp were twinkling like a band of ribbon across the hillside, and there was silence as deep as death everywhere, except when the wind came booming down the valley in fitful gusts, and bowed the tops of the lonely and stunted trees. Upwards she mounted, and the road grew rougher. Her horse’s eyes were streaked with blood, his nostrils quivered. Still she urged him on. A little further now, and her goal was reached. So she rode on, white to the lips with fear—lest even now she should be too late.
At the outposts they stopped her, and the great bay horse, after staggering for a moment like a drunken man, fell over dead. She scarcely glanced at him. The officer, who knew her, rapidly transferred her saddle to his own pony.
“It is a message from the King to Nicholas,” she said. “Tell me, how long will it take me?”
“The Duke is himself guarding the Beacon,” thesoldier answered. “Madame the Countess will reach him in ten minutes.”
She galloped off, never noticing that her pony’s feet were shod with felt. She looked neither to the right nor the left, and she saw nothing of the strange restlessness which seemed to pervade the camp. Everywhere the shadows of men were moving noiselessly about. Spectral guns were surrounded by little groups of whispering soldiers. There was no bivouacing, the camp-fires burned low. Every now and then, when challenged, she mechanically repeated the countersign. All the while her lips were moving in one ceaseless, passionate prayer.
They took her pony at the summit, and a silent sentry pointed to where a single dark figure stood out against the empty background. A few yards to his left was the great beacon, and a row of torches burned in a stand, ever ready for the signal. She called to him softly, and even to herself her voice seemed to come from a long way off.
“Nicholas! Nicholas!”
He turned towards her, and she saw that his face was livid. He was horrified to see her.
“Marie! The good God! What has happened?”
“I have deceived you, Nicholas,” she whispered, hoarsely. “The writing was not the writing of the King. It was Domiloff’s plot, and I wanted to see you King. The King has saved my life. Forever, Nicholas, you and I must be his faithful subjects. I have given my word. I have pledged your honour.”
Then into the face of Nicholas of Reist there came a transfiguring and almost holy joy. He uttered no wordof reproach. The glory of life was once more hot in his pulses. He drew her to him.
“Thank God!” he sobbed. “This way, Marie! Now listen!”
She stooped with him over that awful chaos. From below came a sound like the falling of autumn rains upon dead leaves. He held her to him.
“It is the Turks,” he whispered.
She sprang away in horror, but he laughed softly.
“Marie,” he said, “that is well. Instead of a sleeping camp our guns will rake the Pass, our men await only the signal. Up here, where one is near God, one sees clearly. I am the faithful servant of Theos, even though the King had been my enemy. See!”
He listened for a moment, and then crossing the hill, took a torch from the stand and plunged it into the heart of the great beacon. Tongues of fire leaped up to the sky, and a hoarse murmur passed like a wind through the camp. Then the ground beneath them shook with the roar of artillery. Nicholas took her by the arm.
“Ride for Theos at once,” he directed. “You will be quite safe, for no Turk will pass alive through the Pass. Tell the King that I am his faithful servant.”
About halfway to Theos, Brand, galloping furiously out from the city, came face to face with Marie riding leisurely home on a small pony. He leaped from his horse in amazement.
“Marie,” he exclaimed, “what is happening at the Pass? How came you here?”
She was very tired, but she smiled at him reassuringly.
“Nicholas has over ten thousand Turks in the defile,” she said. “They must either surrender or be killed.”
“Thank God!” he exclaimed.
She got off her pony and sat on a bank.
“I am very tired,” she said, and, swaying suddenly towards him, fainted in his arms.
Brand was a man of resource, and in a few minutes she reopened her eyes. He poured some brandy between her lips, and she sat up.
“I am very sorry,” she said. “I rode last night from Theos to Althea, and I have had no rest.”
He made her drink some milk. They sat hand in hand, a wonderful dawn breaking in the east. By and by a horseman from Theos passed them at full gallop.
“The war is over,” he cried. “The English fleet is at Constantinople! The Turks have sued for peace. Long live the King.”
He vanished in a cloud of dust, riding furiously for the Pass. Brand took Marie into his arms and kissed her.
“Dear,” he said, “I haven’t much money, and I’m only an ordinary man.”
She laughed softly.
“I think in Theos,” she said, “we have clung a little too closely to the old ideals. Rank is very well, and money I know little about. But on the whole, I am glad that you are an ordinary man.”
“‘THE WAR IS OVER,’ HE CRIED.”“‘THE WAR IS OVER,’ HE CRIED.”
They rode into Theos as the King arrived from Solika. The Cathedral bells clanged out a welcome, the people lined the streets, everywhere breathless excitementprevailed. Old Baron Doxis met the King on the palace steps. He held out both hands, but his eyes were wet with tears.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “this is your day of triumph, and yours alone. May God send you in the future wiser and better councillors.”
But Ughtred passed his arm through the old man’s, and led him into the palace.
“I am young and I was unproven,” he said. “I shall be quite satisfied if God will preserve for many years my present ones.”
Theos won for herself, as the fruits of that brief campaign, a wonderful military reputation, and every prospect of unbroken peace. She entered indeed upon that golden age which comes once in the world’s history to every nation, great or small. Mr. Van Decht built a palace within the city, and invested all his vast capital in the country. Brand, whose services no one realized more thoroughly than the King, accepted a Government appointment and entered the House of Laws a naturalized Thetian. And when they asked the King what gift a grateful nation could offer him, he answered them promptly but in very few words.
“The right to depart from a constitutional principle. The right to share my throne with the woman I love.”
There was no hesitation, no break in the thunderous applause which greeted his answer, and which Nicholas of Reist himself led. The marriage of Ughtred of Tyrnaus and Sara Van Decht under such conditions touched the imagination of Europe. Every capital wasanxious tofêtethem, the Society papers lived upon their doings for years. But even they did not know that during that famous visit to London, where they were received with a consideration rarely accorded even to royalty, they stole away one evening and dined togethertête-à-têteat a famous London restaurant. They were unrecognized, and they enjoyed themselves like children. Afterwards they found out a certain seat in a certain corner of the palm lounge, and spent a very delightful hour there. When at last they rose to go he took her hand for a moment softly in his.
“Tell me,” he whispered, “you find it possible to be happy, although you are a queen?”
“I am your wife, dear,” she answered, with a little squeeze of his hand, which seemed to satisfy him.
An amazing whisper suddenly passed from group to group of the brilliantly-dressed men and women who sat about in the Court. The band broke off in the middle of a selection and played the National air of Theos. Every one rose respectfully. He passed her hand through his arm with a little grimace.
“They have found us out, dear,” he whispered.
The people gazed with breathless but well-bred interest. They saw a tall, distinguished-looking man, with the mark of a recent scar slightly disfiguring his left temple, and upon his arm the most beautiful woman in the room, her eyes wonderfully soft and brilliant, a delicate flush upon her cheeks. The King and Queen of Theos passed out to their carriage.
1. Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters’ errors; otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author’s words and intent.
2. The original book from which this e-text is transcribed did not have a Table of Contents; one has been added for the reader’s convenience.