"I saw her kiss you as she went up the stair," he said.
Jealousy, impure, merciless jealousy had claimed its own. Nick had
guessed the import of Solonika's last act and knew that she loved me.
So strange is the human heart that in the midst of the pure and the
noble it can still harbour the most sordid of feelings. I had never
dreamed this of Nicholas.
Should I lie to him and permit him to learn the truth after we were far
out to sea? I must save her, no matter what the cost. But, try as I
would to frame my reply at variance with the truth, I could not.
"She kissed me," I admitted. "Furthermore, Nick, she has told me that
she loves me. There was no need for her to have thrown away the right
to rule in Bharbazonia. Had she kept silent she might now be King. For
weeks I pleaded with her to leave it all before she went too far, but
she did not love me then. It came to her suddenly as she knelt at the
feet of the Patriarch; she condemned her father to exile; she sentenced
herself to death; she told the truth--because she loved me."
Nick glowered upon me and the old look which I dreaded returned. He
fingered his long sword nervously and glanced repeatedly toward the
stairs. I feared his old rage was coming back and that he meditated harm
to Solonika.
"Not that, Nick," giving up all hope of his assistance. "If you have
not forgotten the old days, if there yet remains some vestige of the
affection you used to feel for me, let it have weight with you now. I
love you, Nick. I do not want to raise my hand against you. But I
will, if you threaten her life."
"Dale," he cried, "you do not mean this!"
"Your course is plain. If you will not help us, you have only to wait.
Your countrymen will soon be here seeking vengeance. For God's sake,
Nick, let them take it! Not you! Now that you have deserted us, we
have no hope. There is no way out. She will die before sunrise. All I
ask of you, Nick, and the friendship which seems dead, is that you
permit another hand to wield the sword. Do not make it harder for me to
bear."
Nick walked up and down the room in great agitation. But he did not
again have recourse to his sword hilt. I held my position at the foot
of the stairs until he should arrive at some decision.
"I will do as you ask," he said, stopping before me. "I will wait."
The die was cast. The trap had closed around us. A woman had come
between Jonathan and David. It was the old story over again. But I was
glad even for the little crumb of kindness which the hand of friendship
had given me.
"Thank you, Lassie," I said, and we shook hands as near tears as two
strong men permit themselves to get. The waiters brought our coffee and
we sat at table together sipping the hot beverage and smoking our last
cigars. I sent food to Solonika by a maid, but I do not know whether
she tasted it.
"What are you going to do?" asked Nick, after an hour of silence.
"I shall die with her," I said dully. This suspense was worse than the
tortures of hell. I prayed that they would soon come and end it.
"Nonsense," said Nick, "they will not hurt you; you have not harmed them
as she has."
He was using the words of Solonika. She could not understand and
neither could Nick. How little both knew me.
We did not again refer to the events of the evening. I do not think
Nick spoke. He only watched me curiously. Toward midnight the landlord
closed up his hotel and retired with his servants for the night. They
little dreamed how soon and with what fright they would be awakened from
their peaceful slumbers. The innkeeper placed candles on the table
between us before ascending the stairs. With what assurance men go to
their slumbers knowing that they will wake up in this world in the
morning. I would not be here when he again opened his little hotel.
About one o'clock Nick and I raised our heads at the same moment and
listened. We heard the beat of horses' feet on the hard stone highway,
coming steadily nearer and nearer. As the sound increased in volume, it
became evident that more than a thousand cavalrymen and others, detailed
to search the main road, were upon us.
"They are here," said Nicholas.
*CHAPTER XXI*
*THE FIGHT ON THE STAIRS*
Like pilgrims to th' appointed place we tend;
The world's an Inn and death the journey's end.
--_Dryden: Palamon and Arcite_.
The agony I suffered during the long hours of waiting left me without
feeling. If I experienced any sensation as I heard the approaching
sounds of pursuit, it was not of excitement, but rather of elation. The
terrible hours of waiting were at an end; here at last was the
opportunity for action. To sit and think on approaching death is more
difficult than to fight it.
Nick's decision to wait for the priests and soldiers; his refusal to
help, when the automobile was ready at our call and the road deserted,
had rendered me callous to the future. I remained seated at the table
until the frantic yells of the approaching mob told me they had sighted
the inn and expected to get news of the hated woman.
"Good-bye, Nicholas," I said, extending my hand.
He took it hesitatingly, but did not speak. Wonder and doubt as to what
I intended to do were written on his face. He could not bring himself
to believe that I really meant to defend Solonika against such
overwhelming odds.
"Do not be foolish," he said when I turned at the foot of the stairs and
put my hand in my pocket to feel the revolver there. There was no reply
on my lips. Nick continued to watch me with the same curious
expression. Men may have looked with pity upon the French nobles as
they mounted the guillotine to surrender their heads upon the block
without a murmur.
The soldiers drew rein before the inn. The car standing at the door
told them they had run their quarry to earth. They shouted aloud as if
they knew the victory was theirs. I heard the officers give their
orders; the tavern was speedily surrounded. Then came an awful knock
upon the door and a loud voice in bull-like tones demanding entrance.
With a last look at me, Nick arose from his chair and opened the door,
permitting the soldiers to pour into the room.
As I expected, the first man to enter was the outraged Patriarch. He
was still uttering at intervals his Bharbazonian cry of "Sacrilege."
His black robe was torn by hard riding and covered with dust. He was
like a madman--his eyes glaring, his fingers clutching--as he sprang
into the light. Pressing close behind were most of the black clergy who
officiated within the chancel. They were loud in their cries and
horrible in their expression of mediaeval hatred. Within their souls
was one thought and that was kill--kill--kill! How much like those who
erected the cross on Calvary, nineteen hundred years ago, were these
deluded men. How little had they learned of the spirit of their Master,
the Prince of Peace.
It was small wonder, under the influence of such teaching, that the
soldiers, who pressed into the inn, were wrought up into a similar
religious frenzy. There was no pity even in the face of the colonel in
charge. The innkeeper and his serving men and women, aroused by the
fearful din, appeared upon the landing above in night robes. They lent
their excited voices to the uproar. As soon as the Patriarch saw the
landlord he called to him in French:
"Where is she--this woman?"
"What woman, your Reverence?" cried the bewildered Marchaud.
"She who fled hither in that devil car?"
"No woman came with that party. They were only three men."
"Who were they?"
"Oh, Your Holiness have mercy upon me! What is it you intend to do? You
will ruin the fair reputation of my house. No one is here but these two
gentlemen you see before you and the King, the new King."
"Bah!" cried the Patriarch and his priests. "Where is she hiding?"
"_Mon dieu_! _She_? The King is in yonder room."
He pointed to the door at the head of the stairs and they made a rush
toward me, but halted when I drew my revolver and held it in their
faces.
"Do not do that!" cried Nick, when my intention of holding the steps
even against such odds became clear. After opening the door to the
pursuers he had not taken part in the search of the ground floor and had
refused to answer all questions. By my act he knew that I was dooming
myself to Solonika's fate.
The Patriarch and his followers drew back at the first show of
resistance. They were afraid to mount the steps while I faced them. I
might have held them at bay much longer, had not Solonika appeared
beside her doorway. The first intimation I had that she was there came
from the crowd. The Patriarch and his priests went mad with rage and
pressed me hard. They seemed to have lost their fear of me and every
one shouted at once, pointing behind me. Before their frenzied rush I
was compelled to fall back a little to avoid being struck by swords from
the side toward the bannisters. I glanced over my shoulder and saw her.
She had discarded the black robe of the Patriarch and was pale and white
in her coronation costume.
"Go back! go back!" I called, but instead she came down the steps until
she touched my shoulder. "Give over, my friend. They will only kill
you. You cannot save me," she said.
"Go back, Solonika. You are making them mad. I cannot hold them."
"Please let them come and end it, then."
One priest, braver than the rest, crept up the stair with his eyes
gloating over Solonika, his religious fanaticism having overpowered his
judgment. Something of the spirit of the Mohammedan urged him to the
attack with no weapon but his empty hands. He sprang toward the woman
he hated; he almost clutched her. But I was watching. I brought the
butt of my revolver down upon his tonsured head and, as he crumpled up
under the heavy blow, I kicked him with all my force so that he fell
back into the arms of his brethren, unconscious.
In the sight of all Bharbazonia I had raised my hand against the Church.
There was no mistaking my intention now. I had announced my position
and chosen my fate. Solonika realized it.
"They will kill you, Dale," she said.
"They will have to before they reach you," I replied.
The old fire came back to her. She lost her listlessness.
"We shall die together," she said, and I think the thought made her
happier. "It is better so. Perhaps God will forgive me and permit us to
meet in the other world."
She drew her sword, which I knew she could use with all the vigour of a
well-trained swordsman, and faced her enemies, ready for the impending
battle. If, by my action, I had convinced Solonika of my intention to
die with her, I also made it clear to Nicholas. Perhaps it was the
sight of two against such unequal odds that moved him--the heart of man
demands fair play--perhaps it was his love for a fight; give him what
motives you will, my reader, I know that it was his friendship for me
and his desire to save me that was his moving passion. The fact remains
that he acted almost before the priest's body fell.
Belabouring the Patriarch's followers at the foot of the stairs with the
flat of his broadsword, he forced a passage for himself and stood in the
clearing in front of me. I appreciated the generous spirit his foolish
act showed. He had kept the faith and preserved my idols unbroken.
Here was a friendship which even the love of woman could not kill. But,
oh, but how useless was his sacrifice! One hour ago, had he listened to
my plea, his service had not been in vain. One hour ago he might have
led us through the gates. But, now, we were surrounded. The automobile
was in the enemy's hands. The pleading voice of friendship had made
itself heard--too late!
Nick's scarlet uniform of a Grand Duke had its effect upon the soldiers.
They fell silent when he lifted his hand. But the priests, working
themselves momentarily into a greater frenzy, continued their cries of
"Kill! kill, the woman!" What was the power of a Grand Duke to them who
were more powerful than the nobles?
Nicholas raised his voice above their howling; he spoke in the mother
tongue and seemed to be exhorting the soldiers not to kill me or the
woman, but to take us alive. The Patriarch frequently interrupted,
urging the fighting men to finish the work he had brought them to do.
Between the two the ignorant cavalrymen stood irresolute until the
frantic High Priest threw himself upon Nicholas and, assisted by his
men, bore him down the steps and surrounded him. The hesitating
soldiers, seeing the Grand Duke attacked by the priests, obeyed the
Patriarch and sprang up the stairs swords in hand. The crisis was upon
us.
As they crowded up the incline I took careful aim and pressed the
trigger of my automatic gun. Like the sputter of an alarm clock eleven
reports followed in rapid succession. The steel-jacketed projectiles
went forward upon their deadly mission. Every bullet found its mark and,
boring through the first rank, wounded many in the rear.
In these days of smokeless powder there was nothing to obscure my view
and I saw the front rank fall down upon its face and the less severely
wounded struggle backward to escape another volley. The havoc I had
wrought was terrible. The soldiers broke in a panic, leaving their dead
and dying where they had fallen.
For a moment the attack was over, but I had shot my bolt. I had no more
ammunition. My revolver was empty! There was not even a bullet left
for Solonika and myself!
*CHAPTER XXII*
*THE KING IS DEAD--LONG LIVE THE KING!*
This, and in this, my soul I give,
Lodged where I know 'twill ever live.
For never could myself or mine,
Fall into kinder hands than thine.
--_Bohn: Mss_.
Solonika stood with her hand upon my shoulder, looking down at the
retreating men with fascinated eyes. I threw the useless weapon to the
floor and turned to her.
"I have done the best I could," I said, "but I am powerless now."
"Empty?" she said.
Quickly she sped down the steps to where the body of the nearest man
lay. She took the long sword from his nerveless grasp and came back.
"Can you use it?" she cried as she thrust it into my hands.
"A little," I said. Broadsword work was one of Nick's favourite
pastimes at college, and I had become interested in it on his account.
"Look!" cried Solonika, pointing toward the foot of the stairs. Were
they about to renew the attack so soon? I looked in the direction
indicated and saw Nicholas backing slowly toward us step by step. At my
first fire the frightened priests had run to cover, leaving Nicholas
free. His sword was in his hand and he was watchful. My heart beat
with renewed hope. With three defenders we might hold the stairs for an
indefinite period.
But Nick was not to arrive at our side without a struggle. To the
soldiers, now recovered from their first shock, his method of joining us
looked like a retreat. They recognized that he was going over to the
other side, and sought to attack him while he was yet alone. Before he
had gone two steps upward, feeling for a foothold among the bodies under
his feet, they were upon him. Nick's flashing sword flew from
stair-rail to wall with blinding rapidity, holding them at bay. He
continued backing. Although their weapons clashed against his, I
thought their strokes lacking the force which, had their attack not been
directed against a Grand Duke's uniform, they might have had.
I stood ready to help him if I thought he needed it. My chief concern
was that they might attack him from the side over the railing. But the
men gathered there seemed to be too much interested in the battle to
take any part. He won to my side unhurt. But with him came the enemy,
and I could not tell him how much I appreciated his foolishly generous
act.
The stair was about twelve feet wide; consequently there was room for
the three of us to stand abreast and wield our swords without
interference. Nick fought on the outside against the railing; Solonika
was in the middle and I near the wall. The soldiers crowded up the
stairs five at a time. They hampered each other and were interfered with
by their eager comrades pushing up behind. Nick and I readily took care
of two of these, leaving the middle one to Solonika. But she did not
require any assistance from me, easily handling her own man and one of
mine.
I could see that she was taking care of me and exposing herself to great
risk in the hope of saving my life as long as possible. Although she
fought with spirit I knew it was without hope. After I had made the
last great sacrifice she would hold to her original intention of
delivering herself into the Patriarch's hands.
The first rush of battle over, our work became almost routine. As often
as we drove the front rank back upon its fellows, a new set of swords
took its place. It soon became apparent to the colonel in command that
he could not take us without resort to strategy. In spite of the
entreaties of the priests he gave the order to cease the attack. When
our enemies withdrew all three of us showed the effects of the desperate
battle. Solonika had been wounded in several places. There were blood
stains upon her trousers and stockings. From a cut on her right
shoulder the blood had run down her arm and dyed the grip of her sword
hilt. She was pale and weak from her long fast and loss of blood, and
sank upon the steps with her weapon watchfully ready. Thanks to her
excellent care I was not much hurt. But I was tired from my exertion,
and glad of the opportunity to rest. I sank down beside her.
If Nick had been struck, it did not show on his scarlet coat. Panting
heavily, he leaned upon his father's sword and watched the soldiers
clear the stairs of the wounded, preparing the way, perhaps, for another
attack.
"Thank you, Lassie," I called to express my gratitude. Without his
strong arm where would we be now?
"You are a fool, Dale," he replied gruffly. He did not look at
Solonika.
We were too tired to talk more and, beside, we needed our strength for
the future. I turned my attention to the room below. Over the railing
I saw the Patriarch, surrounded by his priests, in close consultation
with the colonel in command. Between them they had Marchaud, the
innkeeper. Attired in his nightcap and scanty _robe de nuit_, he was the
picture of abject terror. The last time I had seen him he was on the
balcony behind. His wife and servants were still there. How he had
reached the ground floor without passing us I did not know.
"Oh, my beautiful hotel," he shrieked. "Who will pay me for the damage?
Look at the blood upon the walls. Oh, I am ruined."
The colonel slapped him over the mouth to still his noise and motioned
two soldiers to drag him from the room. The Patriarch and the
commanding officer followed Marchaud out. The Patriarch had admitted
himself beaten and the rest of the fight would be conducted upon
military lines. I watched the door until the colonel reappeared. He
evidently had formed a plan of action. A captain took charge of the men
at the foot of the stairs, while the priests looked on in silence. A
bugler with his horn in his hand, stepped to the centre of the floor.
No doubt he would give the signal for the renewal of the battle. The
captain's men prepared to leap up at us again. What did they intend to
do? Surely they did not hope to wear us out until, overpowered by
numbers, we were at last forced to surrender? It might be costly, but
it could not fail.
"Here they come," I cried as the young bugler raised his shining
instrument to his lips.
Weary, but undaunted, we sprang to our positions to await the expected
attack. Outside, on the road toward Nischon, there was the sound of
galloping horses. Reinforcements were coming to the enemy, as if there
were not sufficient men to wear twice our number down.
At the silvery call of the bugle, sounding the advance, the green
uniforms surged up the stairs with a happy shout. They came with so
much confidence of success that we feared we could not stop their mad
rush. But, when our swords met, we discovered that the charge strangely
enough lacked spirit. As steel clashed against steel, I heard the clear
note of the bugle again. Was he sounding another advance? Did the
attacking force need further encouragement?
We were not long in ignorance of the meaning of the second signal.
Scarcely was the note begun when the serving women on the landing behind
us began shrieking in terror. Their high voices mingled with the hoarse
cry of men coming to the attack. Those below pressed us hard, with
renewed vigour. The colonel, guided by the landlord, had sent a second
attacking squad to the balcony by means of a back way. They were even
now running toward us with shouts of victory. Had we been twice our
number our case had been hopeless. We were surrounded and undone. We
were lost.
Slipping my sword hilt through my hand, I grasped Solonika about the
waist and ran swiftly up the few remaining steps in the face of the
oncoming enemy. I reached the door and thrust her safely inside before
the flanking party arrived, leaving Nick to fight it out alone on the
steps. By this move I placed myself on a level with my enemies and
forced them to come through a narrow doorway, one at a time to get me.
I awaited the final attack--which never came.
Instead a loud voice reverberated through the inn and brought every man
to a pause. The soldiers dropped their swords to their sides. Those in
front of me moved to the edge of the balcony and looked over. In the
sudden silence that followed I heard the tread of horses' feet outside
the tavern. There were horses inside as well. Their iron hoofs rang
loudly upon the stone floor. I came to the edge of the stairs and
looked anxiously down. The room below was thick with horses and
red-coated men. The nobles had come at last. Without dismounting, they
had ridden into the inn. Among them I saw the Duke of Marbosa with his
long black beard and the members of the Secret Order of the Cross. And
in their lead stood General Palmora.
"Stand back!" he was crying, and every man obeyed the
commander-in-chief.
He saw Nicholas in the spot he had cleared for himself against the
railing. The General was amazed.
"What are you doing, sir?" he called.
"These fools were trying to kill Dale," Nick replied.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
The General's face was shining with a look of happiness that lifted the
weight of years from his shoulders. Something had happened. He turned
to the soldiers and began an address in their language. I could not
follow him, but what he said acted with magical effect. As he spoke,
Solonika stole to my side and watched the proceedings. She translated
his every word.
"Men of Bharbazonia," said the General, "the King is dead."
He removed his helmet in honour of the dead and every man stood at
attention with bared head.
"Under the unusual stress of excitement, he was stricken with apoplexy
in the Cathedral. The Kingdom of Bharbazonia was without a ruler. At
that moment the nobles and Grand Dukes assembled proclaimed another king
in Gregory's stead. That other is Grand Duke Novgorod, the only living
descendant of the ancient royal house which was banished by the Turks.
I, representing the army, have taken the oath of allegiance to the new
King. And I urge you to accept him."
"Long live the new King," shouted the men in a deep chorus.
"Long live King Novgorod," shouted Marbosa and the nobles.
Both the General and Marbosa dismounted from their horses and advanced
toward the stairs where Nicholas stood watching the scene with interest.
They knelt upon the floor and presented the hilts of their swords to
him, in token of fealty.
"Sire," said Marbosa, humbly, "herewith I pledge to you my loyalty and
that of all the nobles of Bharbazonia."
"Nicholas Fremsted, Grand Duke of Framkor, Novgorod the Tenth, I pledge
to you the loyalty of the army of Bharbazonia."
Nick clutched the railing in front of him and straightened up in
amazement. Following their two leaders, every man present dropped to
his knees in the presence of his King. Nick, Solonika and I alone were
left standing, except for the Patriarch and his priests.
"No! no!" shouted Nick in English. "My God, General, there is some
mistake here!"
The effect upon me was equally great. Could this be possible? I ran
over in my mind the story which Palmora had told of the king who had
relinquished his throne for the sake of his country's peace, who had
kept the secret of his kingship from his only son. Solonika put her
hand in mine.
"It is so," she whispered. "I have always felt it."
"No, Sire,"--the General was speaking--"there is no mistake. Thou art
thy father's son. I have this day kept my oath to him and given you your
own without bloodshed."
"There is no mistake, Sire," said Marbosa. "We have seen the proofs in
the Cathedral and we _know_."
"We _know_," said the Grand Dukes and the nobles.
I was overjoyed. If this were true, and there seemed no doubt of it,
the future loomed bright for me. With Nicholas King in Bharbazonia,
what had I to fear? To think that I had lived all these years with him
without knowing. But how could I know when the General had kept the
secret even from Nick? His father's plan in sending him to various
countries to educate him had been to prepare him for this very day.
Nick walked down the steps and bade his two kneeling subjects rise.
They gathered around him and explained everything until he was convinced
of the truth. The Patriarch also entered the discussion, and I could
see that he did not accept Nicholas as readily as had the army. Even
with the army and the nobles on his side, his throne was not safe
without the cooperation of the all-powerful Church.
"The Patriarch is urging him to deliver us into the hands of the
church," whispered Solonika.
"He'll never do it," I replied confidently.
Whatever was the outcome of the conversation it was Nicholas that spoke
to me.
"I trust, Dale, that you and--this woman will submit to arrest," he said
with a dignity that was new, but which was rightly a part of his
kingship.
"We will surrender to you, Sire," I replied.
"General Palmora, take charge of your prisoners," said Nick.
Before sunrise I was under lock and key in one of the dungeons beneath
the Palace of Nischon, having been conveyed thither by a strong guard
which even the church would not dare assail. We rode to Nischon in the
automobile alone with Teju Okio. Nick and the General used horses.
"Teju," I said, in high good humour, "your master Mr. Fremsted is King
of Bharbazonia."
"Very dam fine," he smiled.
And I agreed with him.
But, when we arrived at the Palace, Solonika was taken from me and
placed in a dungeon in another part of the huge building. I did not
know when I should see her again or what disposition they would make of
her. The King, Marbosa, and the General were diplomats used to playing
the politics of a nation. They had felt the scourge of power and feared
it.
The Patriarch, I knew, still demanded her life. What would happen if he
made it the price of the church's submission to the new ruler?
*CHAPTER XXIII*
*THE KING'S OFFERING*
I praise thee while my days go on;
I love thee while my days go on;
Through dark and derth, through fire and frost,
With empty arms and treasure lost,
I thank thee while my days go on.
--_Mrs. Browning: De Profundis_.
For two long weary days I languished in my cell without word from the
King. Three times a day food was given me by an old turnkey who knew
neither English nor French. Although I questioned him by signs, I could
get nothing from him.
What were they doing with Solonika? Oh, the torture of those sleepless
nights! I paced my cage like a restless lion in a circus. The Kingdom
of Bharbazonia was burying the old King and greeting the new. There
were a thousand duties demanding Nick's attention. I could scarcely
blame him for having apparently forgotten me. And yet, I did blame him.
Even now, as I lay helpless behind my bars, they might have tricked or
forced him into giving his consent to her death. What was the life of
one woman compared to the peace and prosperity of a state?
Perhaps already she had been given over to the Patriarch to suffer the
last pangs in whatever manner the barbaric religion of the country
demanded. If the Church's vengeance had fallen hers had been a terrible
end. I was indeed a madman, locked in with my fears.
I cursed her inhuman father for trading on his child's love to bring her
to her death. I railed against Nicholas for his faithlessness in
yielding to the church. I railed against the General for keeping Nick
away from me. The General, with his state business, must have done it,
else Nick would have come. I railed against the day when first I set
foot in this fearful country. But I softened my words when I remembered
that I would not then have met Solonika. I was in a frightful state of
rage and mental anguish when the jailor opened the door and ushered in
the General.
I sprang at him like a wild animal and shook him with a torrent of wrath
for greeting. He warded me off as best he could, and even the old
turnkey had to come to his assistance.
"Where is she? What have you done with her?" I raved.
But he waited patiently until I stopped from exhaustion. I could see
that he sympathized with me.
"Calm yourself, my boy," he said in the tone a mother uses to still a
squalling infant. "There is no need of all this."
"Solonika! For God's sake, tell me, does she live?"
In my terrible frame of mind I know I should have leaped upon him and
borne him to earth, had his news been bad.
"She is safe, as yet," he replied.
"Thank God," I cried, and became calmer.
"But the situation is serious," he continued, as if to drown my rising
hope.
"How serious?"
"It threatens the foundation of the government. Nicholas is not firmly
seated yet."
"But hurry, General, tell me what to expect for Solonika."
"Concerning her there is yet no decision. The Patriarch is firm in his
demands. He has consented to imprisonment for life for the Red Fox,
together with the confiscation of all his property in Bharbazonia."
"Yes."
"At Nicholas's request the Holy Father will permit you to leave the
country unharmed, provided you promise never to return--"
"Tell him with my compliments that he need have no fear on that score,"
I interrupted.
"But he will not yield one hair's breadth concerning the woman."
"Death?"
"Death," he repeated solemnly, "in any manner the church elects. It may
be by the stake, publicly, as was the fate of the Witch of Utrepect; or
the slower and more painful death on the rack. I do not see how we can
save her."
"Oh, my God, General, do not say that. I shall go mad. You must save
her!" I cried in anguish.
"The King is fighting hard for you, Dr. Wharton--for you and your
Solonika. He has surprised me at the concessions already won. You must
appreciate this. The odds are great. Our Patriarch has been in
communication with the Patriarch of all the Russias, the man who stands
next to the Tzar. Nicholas had him wire this man, after sending his own
representative in the Secret Order to state the case and plead for you.
What little concessions he won came from this more enlightened
Patriarch. But he, too, demands that the woman be given to the church
she has wronged."
Solonika's fate seemed sealed. After our bitter fight upon the stairs,
and all the heartburnings, she was lost.
"Tell Nick how much I thank him," I faltered.
"I will bear your message to the King," replied the General. "Acting
under his instructions, I am here to ask you to be ready to leave at a
moment's notice. Your steamer trunk and suit case at Castle Framkor
have been packed, and are now aboard my yacht at Bizzett. In a few
hours it will be dark. We can smuggle you out very easily without being
seen."
"Why all this secrecy?" I asked, aghast at the thought of leaving
Solonika to her fate.
"The peasantry will tear you limb from limb if they see you."
"The priests have that much hold over them?"
"Aye. Do not underrate the power of the Church. It is the one thing I
fear."
"They are taking you away from her," was all I heard my heart say.
"Once safe on the yacht nothing can harm you. You will reach Naples and
take passage to your home."
"Is that the best the King can offer?" I asked, my resolve taking form.
"Absolutely."
"Then this is my answer. Tell that King that I cannot live without
Solonika. Tell him, though he banish me from Bharbazonia, I shall
return when she is dead and betray myself to the populace. If the
church must take her life they can have mine also. Tell him that I
thank him for all he has done for me and that I do not hold him guilty
for that wherein he has failed."
Palmora looked at me in amazement. "Was this man sane?" He shook his
head sadly.
"I will tell him," he said.
"Furthermore, General, I give you fair warning I shall not leave this
country willingly. If the King insists that I shall go, send your
strongest men to the task."
"Is this woman then so much to you? Do you really mean to do what you
say?" he asked.
"As sure as there is a God in heaven, I do."
"I cannot understand it," he murmured, as he departed to bear my threat
to the King.
He left me alone with my bitter thoughts. Then my worst fears were
realized. Solonika could not escape the outstretched hands of the
Church. I fell upon the floor and wept bitterly.
But the General did not come back that day as he promised. Something
may have happened to change his plans. I grasped at a straw. But I was
doomed to disappointment. On the following day four stalwart
Bharbazonians fell upon me suddenly as I lay asleep. They bound me
securely hand and foot, placed a gag in my mouth, wrapped me in a
blanket and carried me out like a log. Evidently the General had taken
my advice.
They threw me none too gently into the bottom of the automobile, which
was waiting with revolving engines at the Palace door. It must have
been night, for I heard no sound of carts upon the road. I knew we
crossed the wooden bridge that spanned the river and felt us ascend the
hill on the other side. I was leaving Solonika behind in the city of
Nischon.
Hour after hour we sped along the highway. At last we stopped before
the gates of the fortress. My captors exchanged a few words with the
guard and I heard the doors clang open. Oh, if only Nicholas had come
to my aid at the tavern when I implored him to save Solonika! If I
could have made him believe that I meant to risk my life to get her out
of the country, how easily would the gates have swung back for us. How
happy would I have been. But now--
We descended the Hill of Bizzett and thundered out on the wooden
planking of the little pier where a few short weeks before we had landed
full of care-free happiness. How great the change in such a short time!
They lifted me out of the car and carried me aboard the yacht. Down the
companionway they lifted me and placed me on my back in one of the
staterooms. Then I heard them go out and shut the door. Almost before
they had time to leap ashore, I heard the grinding of the engines. The
yacht was under way. The General's plans were working well. Against my
will, I was leaving Bharbazonia behind. Solonika was abandoned to her
fate. The vessel ground its way through the sea. Two hours later some
one entered the room.
"I love a lassie, a bonnie hie-lan' lassie," sang Captain MacPherson in
a hearty bass voice. He grated horribly upon my nerves.
"Weel, weel," he said, laughing till the cabin shook, "look at the lad.
Is it a mummy I have for cargo?"
I had rolled the blanket from my face and lay there trying to tell him
with my eyes to take the gag out of my mouth and release me. He took a
huge knife from his pocket and cut my bonds. My hands and arms were
numb and my tongue was so swollen that I could not speak.
"My eyes," said the Captain, looking at my blood-covered, disarrayed
dress suit, "they've been showing him the country, and he's been singing
'I won't go home until morning.'"
I held out my hands in mute appeal and he understood. He rubbed me with
alcohol and gave me brandy to drink. When I found my tongue I rewarded
him by berating him soundly.
"Take me back to Bizzett this moment, you scoundrel," I cried.
The Captain was astonished.
"Listen to the ijit," he said. "Young fellow, you're cargo; and cargo
don't gie orders. When ye land ye land at Naples."