The Prize by Sydney C. Grier - HTML preview

CHAPTER XXVI.
 THE FAIR PRIZE WON.

“HAIL, lady!” Wylie rode up to Danaë and saluted, as she sat on her horse, the picture of hopeless bewilderment, in the midst of a clamorous crowd.

“Oh, how glad I am that you have come, lord!” she cried. “These people say that certain Roumis dwelling among them are responsible for all yesterday’s rioting, and they have broken into their houses and dragged them out. The police have no evidence against them, but I am afraid to send them home lest they should be killed.”

“Case of police protection, evidently,” said Wylie. “You want me to settle it?” Receiving an eager affirmative, he spoke in Roumi to the unfortunate Moslems, who were held by many hands, then scolded their assailants roundly, and remarked that it would be well for everything stolen from the looted houses to be back in its place when he arrived there in a few minutes to settle the lawful owners in their homes again under a police guard to protect them. Meeting Danaë’s grateful eyes, he laughed.

“I didn’t intend to take your work out of your hands in this way,” he said; “but Panagiotis seemed to think you would be glad to be relieved at once. I have not seen your brother, but he sent polite messages, and an order putting me in charge of the city and the troops.”

“Oh yes!” with infinite relief. “I can leave it all with you, and go back to my husband. But how is the Lady Zoe?”

“Very well, thank you, but she is not so very far off, you know. You will find her at the Palace. She refused to let me leave her behind.”

“Oh, I must go to her!” cried Danaë. “You won’t mind if I leave you? This gentleman, my aide-de-camp, will explain everything, and you will know what to do far better than I do.”

Hardly waiting for his answer, she rode away, and on arriving at the Palace demanded eagerly where the Princess Zoe was, and ran upstairs to find her. Zoe, instructing the rough Emathian handmaid who had accompanied her in Linton’s place in the art of unpacking, found her door suddenly burst open to admit a human whirlwind with flying plaits and draperies, which dropped at her feet.

“Oh, lady, lady mine!”

“Kalliopé, my dear child! Come, let me look at you. Why, you are taller than ever—and so much improved!”

“Really, lady? Not a savage any more?”

“I never called you a savage, I am sure.”

“Artemisia did, and Princess Theophanis, and all of them. Tell me quickly, lady—am I different?”

Zoe turned her face to the light, and looked at her searchingly, while the girl knelt blushing and trembling. “Very different. You have found your soul, my little mermaid.”

“A water-nymph, a Nereid—do you indeed call me that, lady?” To Danaë’s ears this was the highest compliment that could be offered her. “But—” she hid her face in Zoe’s gown—“you know how it is that a water-nymph obtains a soul?”

“I do, and it has come true in your case, hasn’t it? He shares his soul with you, and you accept the gift.”

“Even so, my lady, but if you only knew—! I was so wicked, so ungrateful—he ought to have taken it back.”

“He won’t do that, I am sure. He met us at the door when we arrived, and I could see that he did not repent. You had a very narrow escape of losing him, Kalliopé.”

Danaë hung her head. “Yes, lady,” very faintly.

“But, my dear child, it was not your fault!”

“But I had to leave him, my lady. I wanted to stay at his side, and he bade me go. I durst not even let myself think how nearly I had lost him, or I must have returned to the Palace at once. And it was only the night before that I found out how much—— Oh, lady, I think that my European clothes, and all the feasts and sights, and the kindness of the European ladies, made me mad at first. I forgot who I was, and that Milordo in his goodness had made me his wife; I even thought him unkind. But it came to me in the night that all these things were nothing to me if his face was turned away, and in the morning I humbled myself and set his foot on my head, and he forgave me, and I was content.”

“My dear child!” said Zoe involuntarily, realising the acute discomfort this reconciliation must have caused to Armitage. Danaë misunderstood her.

“Not content with myself, lady mine—I don’t mean that. You will teach me what I ought to be, and I will give myself up to learn from you. But you do think that he is willing I should be his wife?”

“More than willing, I should say.”

“And—lady, tell me truly—you don’t think my being his wife will do him any harm—that I shall disgrace him?”

“Not while you feel as you do now.”

“And that will be always. It is well, then. Now I shall fight for my life. Otherwise I would have let my brother do his will.”

“But what has your brother to do with it?”

“He has condemned me secretly to death, my lady, like all those who were concerned in the death of his wife. They are all dead but me now—Petros was the last.”

She spoke with such evident sincerity that Zoe was impressed, though she would not show it. “My dear child, you must be dreaming. Your own brother! You mustn’t let yourself get morbid. Let us go downstairs now. I see my husband coming back.”

They went down to find Armitage, and presently Wylie joined them, with a somewhat perturbed face.

“When did you see your brother last, lady?” he asked of Danaë.

“When he was carried wounded from the parade-ground,” she replied. “None of us have seen him since. He asked for Janni at first, but the poor little one was frightened and cried, and the doctors said he must not come in again.”

“Haven’t you seen the Prince, Graham?” asked Zoe.

“No, I was to have seen him now if he was well enough, but the doctors think it wiser not. He is to keep his strength in reserve ready for seeing Maurice.”

“Maurice!” cried Zoe and Armitage together.

“Yes, Panagiotis has sent for him. He has some deep-laid plot on hand, but I don’t see it at present.”

“But what is the idea?”

“So far as I can see, it is to magnify the Prince’s illness sufficiently to make it natural for him to appoint Maurice regent. That would be an important step gained in uniting our rival interests against the Powers, but I don’t see that it justifies deception.”

“But you can’t be certain that there is deception,” said Armitage.

“Not certain, but why should the Prince not see me for a minute, if he is well enough to send messages and sign documents? I should not disturb him, and it would be much more satisfactory. But one can’t force one’s way into a sick man’s room against the will of his doctors.”

“Who is his doctor?” asked Zoe.

“Terminoff, who was with us in Hagiamavra. That’s one thing that makes me think there is something up. Anyhow Panagiotis intends to see Maurice established as regent as soon as he arrives, and apparently attaches immense importance to his arriving as soon as possible.”

“Then he should have written to Eirene instead of Maurice, or at any rate to both of them,” said Zoe.

“Since he knows the Princess by this time about as well as we do, I should think it is highly probable that he has,” said Wylie, in his driest tone.

“Then we may expect them here to-morrow—he is sure to have wired—if Eirene is able to travel. She will send Maurice if she cannot come herself, but perhaps this will be just what the doctor said she needed to rouse her.”

“I hope the Princess is better?” said Armitage.

“Oh, poor thing!” said Zoe. “It is her mind that is suffering more than her body. You remember how delighted she was when you gave her back the Girdle of Isidora, Kalliopé?—Danaë, I mean—and how she seemed quite different? Well, I think she must have felt, somehow, that this baby was sure to be a boy. When she found it was a girl, it seemed to take from her all desire to live. She just said, ‘Call it Isidora,’ and turned her face to the wall.”

“But she is not dead?” asked Danaë, awestruck.

“No, poor Eirene can’t even die dramatically. Her schemes never come off,” said Zoe, with a touch of her old flippancy. “Don’t look at me so reproachfully, Graham. You know that poor baby would have died if I hadn’t gone and fetched it and given it into Linton’s charge. And poor Maurice so fond of it, and creeping in by stealth to see it for fear of hurting Eirene’s feelings! I have no patience with her. She might be fond of it for his sake, if not for its own.”

“And how does the Lord Harold like the baby?” asked Danaë.

“Not at all. He objects most strongly to Linton’s attentions being diverted from himself.”

“Ah, you will want me in the nursery again,” murmured Danaë ecstatically; but Zoe caught a look from Armitage which implied that he would have a word to say as to the way in which his wife disposed of her time.

With Wylie’s arrival, quiet seemed to settle upon Therma. Troops and police and populace all welcomed him, or found it politic to seem to do so, and the European Consuls abandoned concerted action for the moment in favour of drawing up separate claims for compensation for damage done in the riot. Whether Professor Panagiotis had planned it or not, the publicity which attended Wylie’s assumption of the command of affairs served to distract attention from the movements of his brother-in-law, and on the next evening the Consuls were astonished by the intelligence that Prince and Princess Theophanis had arrived in the city, and were staying at the Palace. They had been received at the station by Colonel Wylie and the troops, the Ministers and the municipality, and the guard of honour appointed to attend them during their stay was composed exclusively of veterans who had fought in Hagiamavra. Addresses of welcome had been presented to them, and on the morrow they would visit the Legislative Chamber, and receive the welcome of the Assembly. It was all very proper, and the explanation that this was the state visit planned some time before, but postponed on account of the lack of health of the Princess, appeared quite satisfactory; but the Consuls were not satisfied. Why had they not been invited to the station to take part in the arrival ceremony? they asked, only to receive the obvious reply that Prince Theophanis was not welcomed as a sovereign prince, but as one of the liberators of Emathia, allied by close ties with the throne.

While the Consuls were busy taking counsel with one another, and Professor Panagiotis was employing every means in his power to ensure a full attendance of the members of the Assembly on the morrow, the party at the Palace was the same as that which had met at Klaustra on the night of Danaë’s short-lived social triumph. Many changes had taken place since then, but the most surprising was the transformation in Princess Theophanis. It was difficult to believe that she was the woman who but a short time ago had turned her face to the wall in bitterness of soul and longed for death, or the weary chatelaine of Klaustra, haunted by the knowledge that the battle she was fighting had already been decided against her. Now she moved regally about the stately rooms, almost as if she felt she had a rightful place there. She showed marked kindness to Danaë, and Danaë and Zoe commented on the fact to one another.

“What a change to have been brought about by the mere prospect of a temporary regency!” said Zoe. “I suppose she feels that it establishes Maurice’s position, but really she is no nearer her ambition than ever.”

“The Lord Theophanis is pleased to see the change,” said Danaë.

“Yes, isn’t it pathetic to see his eyes following her about? She is like what she was when he married her, before her ambition had come between them. There really was a time when she seemed to think love was enough, but it didn’t last.”

“I wonder,” said Danaë slowly, “whether she would speak to me so kindly if she knew that, were the choice mine, the regents would be the Lord Glafko and you, lady?”

“I really don’t think it would affect her. She knows that nothing would induce us to take Maurice’s place, and I’m afraid she wouldn’t care much what your wishes were, Danaë. What are you going to wear to-morrow?”

“Not kalpak and dolman, at any rate,” said Danaë, with a sigh of relief, for her two days of command were like a nightmare to look back upon. It was an immense comfort to feel, when she rose on the morrow, that all the military arrangements were in Wylie’s capable hands, and that Armitage and she could resign themselves to take a purely decorative part in the day’s proceedings. There was an unusual sense of stir about the city, for the country-people, with whom the story of the hard-fought and apparently hopeless fight in Hagiamavra was rapidly assuming the character of a national epic, were pouring in to see Prince Theophanis and his brother-in-law. The Palace square was crowded long before the carriages were ready to start, and the Place de l’Europe Unie so closely packed with a friendly, good-humoured throng that it was difficult to make a way for them. The elements of disorder were not in evidence to-day, at any rate, and the soldiers received cordial welcome, while Maurice and Eirene were greeted with tremendous cheering. The triumph lasted until they had actually reached the threshold of the Chamber, but here came a disagreeable interruption. The foreign Consuls had learnt or divined the cause of the visit, and were assembled to protest against it in the name of Europe. That Prince Theophanis should be proclaimed regent during the illness of Prince Romanos was not to be thought of. Since there was no question of a hereditary dynasty, Janni had no rights that needed protection, and if it was simply a matter of appointing a guardian for him, it would be most incorrect to choose a person who had made himself so prominent in politics. As for the maintenance of government and tranquillity in Emathia, that might safely be left to the Powers. If Prince Romanos felt himself unequal to his duties, he had only to resign them into the hands of Europe, and Europe would proceed to agree upon his successor, as it would have done if he had held office for the full five years of his appointment.

The protest was read in the name of his brethren by the Pannonian Consul-General, who succeeded in restraining a smile even when he spoke of the agreement of Europe, and it evoked loud murmurs among the members of the Assembly who heard it. The language in which it was couched was distinctly unfortunate from the point of view of its promoters, for the Emathians had been learning for nearly four years to regard themselves as a free people electing their own sovereign, and now they were abruptly reminded that their country was still technically dependent on Roum, and that their liberties existed at the mercy of the Powers. The news filtered through the crowd in the portico to the greater crowd in the square, and cries of anger began to rise. But Professor Panagiotis kept his head. Requesting Maurice’s permission to reply, he inquired deferentially what exactly it was that the representatives of Europe desired. Since the natural anxiety of Prince Romanos, in view of the events of the past week, for the safety of his family and the stability of his government was not to be allayed, would he be permitted simply to appoint a guardian for his child? There was much murmuring among the nearer Emathians at the Professor’s conciliatory tone, especially when Herr Melchthal replied, with scarcely veiled contempt, that Europe had no desire to interfere with the guardianship of a mere private individual such as Prince Joannes Christodoridi. The Professor countered swiftly. Yet it seemed that his Highness was not allowed to appoint his honoured brother-in-arms, Prince Theophanis, to the charge of his child; might he, then, appoint the Cavaliere Pazzi, the father of his deceased wife? There was some demur at this, for was not the Cavaliere the heir of Maxim Psicha? But the discontent of the deputies and the people was growing so highly pronounced that the Consuls yielded the lesser point, having gained the greater, and the Professor went down the steps to lay the news before the invalid at the Palace. But the square was now in a turmoil, and the crowd, unreasonable in their indignation, refused to let him pass. He had betrayed Emathia, and they would keep him until the Prince’s answer arrived. Professor Panagiotis bowed to the storm, and a messenger was sent off. A time of tension followed, the Consuls, though masters of the field, looking decidedly uncomfortable in face of the sour looks cast upon them. The deputies glared askance at the Professor, who chatted with great unconcern to the party from the Palace. They were almost as uncomfortable as the Consuls, not knowing whether anything had gone wrong, or whether a preconceived plan was being worked out.

“If only the Consuls had made their protest before we started!” lamented the Professor, as the moments went by. “It is so thoughtless of them to keep the Princess standing like this! You would not care to wait inside the building, madame?” he asked solicitously of Eirene, who shook her head. “His Highness’s answer must come soon, of course,” he resumed. “Perhaps he will even telephone—” he was looking in the direction of the Palace, in spite of his words, and his jaw fell. “Kyrie Eleēson!” he cried violently, and crossed himself.

The rest followed with their eyes the direction of his shaking hand, and Consuls, deputies and crowd turned with them to look along the street which led to the Palace. The standard of Prince Romanos was flying at half-mast from the flagstaff.

“What is it? What has happened?” everyone was crying.

“The spoilt child of Europe has abdicated in a pet,” said the Pannonian Consul-General confidently, but the snarl of hatred which rose from the deputies made him turn aside with a rather unsuccessful laugh.

“A messenger! a messenger!” came the cry from the square. In the strain of the moment, no one thought of the telephone. All stood gazing with white faces towards the man who was forcing his way through the crowd.

“Holy Peter! it is Terminoff!” cried the Professor, and as the surging throng washed up Dr Afanasi Terminoff, hatless and with torn coat, at the foot of the steps, he ran down to meet him. “Doctor, why have you left your patient?”

“Because he needed me no more!” shouted the doctor furiously. “His Highness is dead!”

“Dead! dead!” the word was echoed by a thousand throats, and the people in the square tore their clothes and cast dust upon their heads. Dr Terminoff was still facing the Professor.

“How did you dare send that message?” he cried. “You knew on how slender a thread his life hung. Here have we kept him alive from day to day, in the hope that this morning’s ceremony would set his mind at rest, and give him opportunity to recover, and you destroy all the result of our care in a moment!”

“Don’t blame me,” said the Professor, pale with anger. “All-Holy Mother of God! the fault was not mine.” His eagle-glance round called the deputies and the crowd to witness as well as the Panagia, and in one moment the air was rent with shrieks of “Down with Europe!” The life of a foreign Consul in the Balkans is not at any time a very peaceable one, but it is probable that the assembled diplomatists had never been in quite such imminent danger before. Mr Wildsmith leaned over the parapet by which he was standing.

“Colonel Wylie, we shall hold you responsible,” he said. There was a stir of hoofs as the troopers under the wall moved forward a pace or two, pressing back the crowd from the immediate neighbourhood of the Consuls, but they were still in most unpleasant proximity to the deputies, whose full-dress array allowed of a considerable exhibition of weapons. Hands were on daggers and revolver-butts, when Professor Panagiotis spoke again, this time from the top of the steps.

“Free citizens of Emathia, our Prince is dead. The descendant of the Emperors, the hero who led us in battle, the statesman who has made Emathia what she is, is lost to us. Shall his work be destroyed? Is Europe to snatch away from us the liberties we wrested from Roum at the cost of untold suffering and bloodshed? You say she shall not. I take you at your word. Let us proceed at once to the election of another Prince, who shall carry on the work our lost hero had begun. Is there any doubt whom we should choose? Is not the friend, the comrade of Romanos with us, who submitted to waive his own claims and labour for the good of Emathia, to whom he whom we have lost desired to entrust the safety of the nation? Theophanis for Prince!”

From the deputies and the crowd in the square burst an overwhelming shout, “Theophanis for Prince!” Daggers were drawn and revolvers fired in the air, and the shouting went on unabated. Herr Melchthal retained his presence of mind through all the noise. He approached the Professor.

“In the name of Europe I protest against this farce,” he said loudly. “No mandate has been given for an election.”

“No mandate is needed,” was the fiery reply, and the deputies cheered again. “Here are the representatives of free Emathia, responsible only to God and their country. They will now proceed, with all possible solemnity, to repeat by means of the ballot the election they have just made by acclamation. Mr President, will you be good enough to convene the Assembly?”

The crowd in the square were silent now, watching with eager eyes the deputies as they filed into the building. An attempt at further protest on Herr Melchthal’s part was met with cries of “Privilege!” and he and his colleagues were forced to assert the dignity of Europe in no more effective way than by withdrawing in a body, lest by their presence they should be supposed to countenance what was going on. It was a bitter pill to be obliged to request safe-conduct from Wylie for their passage through the streets, but the choice lay between this and sneaking out at the back of the Chamber, and each diplomatist was duly guarded through the hostile throng by equally hostile soldiers, and seen safe to his own door.

The actual election occupied a very short time. The last of the Consuls had barely left the square when a deputation of members came to invite their Highnesses to enter the Chamber. Here there was a slight difficulty, for some of the deputies wished to impose a condition which Maurice declined to accept, but the rest prevailed upon them to withdraw their stipulation, and Maurice and Eirene Theophanis emerged under the great portico Prince and Princess of Emathia. Eirene had cast aside her cloak, and stood magnificent in a gown of Byzantine splendour, with the Girdle of Isidora about her waist. The jewel was recognised at once and another shout went up. “The talisman! the talisman! Hail to the Orthodox Empress!”

She stilled them with a motion of her hand. “The Princess of Emathia to-day, friends; and to-day is the proudest day of my life so far.”

The underlying thought was so clearly implied that the people shouted again, and the hastily formed processions bringing bread and salt to offer to the new sovereigns could hardly pass. Everywhere in the crowd travelled persons who had visited Klaustra were lauding the administration of Maurice and Wylie and prophesying benefits to Emathia from their rule, and Zoe, Armitage and Danaë shared in the enthusiasm aroused. When they escaped at last from the many hands held out reverentially to touch their clothes, it was to be thankful for the refuge offered by their carriage, as it moved at a foot-pace across the square. Danaë sank into her place like one dazed. The events of the last two hours—her brother’s death, the instant election of his rival—were not to be grasped as yet.

“What I should like to know,” said Armitage suddenly to Zoe, “is when Prince Romanos really died.”

“Oh, that has struck you too, has it?” said Zoe. “When do you think?”

“At first I thought last night, but now I am inclined to wonder if it may not have been as soon as he reached the Palace after Petros stabbed him.”

“In that case Professor Panagiotis must have a good deal on his conscience—in the way of forgery and so on.”

“I think we may safely say that his conscience will never trouble him to the point of making him confess,” said Armitage.

“And therefore we shall never know, I suppose,” said Zoe.

“Not unless Terminoff quarrels with the Professor, and splits.”

“Or the Professor quarrels with us all, and writes his memoirs. But in that case one could hardly depend on what he said, so it would be as doubtful as ever.”

“Whenever it was,” said Armitage with conviction, “Princess Theophanis knew of it last night. She is in it with him.” Zoe’s eyes met his, and he saw that she agreed with him.

“Do you mean, lady,” said Danaë, rousing herself from her trance of bewilderment, “that all the time they told me I was preserving the throne for my brother and Jannaki, I was keeping it for your brother instead?”

“I am afraid it looks like it, Danaë,” said Zoe gently. “You would not have done it if you had known?”

“I would have done it for you, lady,” was the doleful reply.

“But if it means that Princess Zoe will live here instead of at Klaustra?” suggested Armitage.

“Oh, that we shall all live together at the Palace?” said Danaë, with reviving cheerfulness. “Ah, lady mine, then I shall be able to be with you always!”

“In that case, I fear Lady Zoe would have to put up with a good deal of me,” said Armitage. “Shall we say sometimes instead of always?”

* * * * * * * *

That evening, in response to the shouts of the people who filled the square, Prince and Princess Theophanis appeared upon the balcony over the principal entrance to the Palace, and exchanged greetings with their new subjects. As Maurice handed his wife back into the room after one of these appearances he pressed her hand.

“Happy at last, Eirene? I hope so, dear.”

“Not quite,” she said quickly. “Maurice, why did you refuse to betroth Isidora to Janni as the Greeks wished? It was such a natural and proper thing to do.”

“What! to bind those two babies irretrievably to one another?”

“These people do it constantly, to end a feud. And there would be no hardship in it. I should bring up Isidora to regard the boy as her destined bridegroom, and she would never think of anyone else.”

“But suppose she did? You were brought up to regard a Scythian Grand Duke as your destined bridegroom, but that didn’t prevent you from thinking of me. Why should your daughter be different? Or suppose Janni preferred to marry some one else? No, we won’t risk making the children unhappy.”

“They are princes. It is the drawback of their position.”

“Then we will save them from it as far as we can. And even for our own sakes—— Why, Eirene, think. Would the Powers tolerate our linking the claims of Maxim Psicha with our own at the present moment, even if they consent to acknowledge my election as valid?”

“It might have been managed secretly,” she said, and walked away restlessly, to look out at the dark masses of people in the square. It was always like this; Maurice would thwart her to the end, not merely by means of obstinacy, but with some show of reason and equity. If the way to her goal involved a breach with his convictions, he would not follow it. And that day had brought her so much nearer! In this age of revolutions and counter-revolutions, of compromises and buffer states, the phantom glories of a revived Eastern Empire might not be so very unreal, after all. She saw them clearly enough, but it was through a mist of passionate tears. No son of hers would sit on the throne of the Cæsars, it was only too probable now that even her daughter would never be acclaimed in Hagion Pneuma as Orthodox Empress. She had gained the prize which was to be the stepping-stone to the greater glory, but to her husband it was a burden rather than a gain, and the child for whose sake she had first grasped at it lay buried in Hagiamavra. The coveted fruit was little but dust and ashes after all.

THE END.