THE NEW KING
King Alexander of Ironia stood in an embrasure of the royal council
room. He appeared to be gazing over the crowded, turbulent Lodz, but
in reality he saw nothing; nor did the wild clamour that rose from the
mob-ridden square in front of the palace reach his ears. The King
stared into space while angry emotions ran riot in his mind. Adamant
determination, black anger and futile longing for strength to combat
his aroused subjects, filled the brain of the baffled monarch. A truly
royal figure he appeared, standing there alone by the window--arms
folded on his breast, mouth set in ominous lines, staring out into
space as silent and as motionless as bronze.
Back in the council room a number of men were seated around a long
table, conversing in low tones and furtively regarding the solitary
figure of the monarch.
"His Majesty will never give in," said Danilo Vanilis, the shrewdest
and strongest of the King's councillors. "I know him. He has sworn
not to fight Potsdam--and he will die rather than break his pledge."
"But he can't resist longer," interjected another. "The Austrian
invasion has stirred the country up from one end to the other. The
army clamours for war. Officers, who have been known to favour the
Austrian cause, have been forcibly ejected. There is not a man left in
Ironia to back the King. He must give in."
"Look at him," said Vanilis. "There he stands, like a lion at bay; see
the poise of his head, the set of the lips, the brooding light in the
eyes. Alexander would stand fast if the whole world took sides against
him; he would fight single-handed against the hosts of the Archangel.
It is as pitiable as it is strange that such determination, such grand
devotion, should have found its vent only in upholding a tradition!"
"Still more strange that the Austrians should have committed this open
act of war," whispered a third. "It was rumoured that Miridoff had a
carefully concocted scheme that would inevitably result in plunging us
into war with the Russians. Then, like a bolt from the blue, comes
this mad exploit of the Austrians. And, strangest of all, Miridoff
himself has disappeared."
"It can only be understood when it is explained that it occurred in the
mountains," said a fourth. "Anything can happen there. Take Larescu
led the force which drove the Austrians back over the Bhura. Mark my
word, Larescu is at the bottom of this. And, what is more, I am
convinced that Miridoff has been killed."
"And not too soon!" A murmured chorus of assent ran around the board.
Vanilis, after a pause, went on, speaking in a low tone: "It is strange
that Peter has not returned. He was to have been with us. You all
heard the rumour that an attempt would be made to assassinate him on
his way back. It cannot be that----"
He paused. There was no need to finish the sentence, for the faces of
all the company advertised the fact that the same fear had entered the
mind of each man there. It was a disquieting thought; for all men
recognised now that the strong hand of Prince Peter was needed at the
helm.
"Gentlemen!"
The King had faced about. Slowly, with white, set face and dignified
stride, His Majesty walked back to the head of the table. He glanced
coldly about the board.
"You have demanded that we sign this monstrous paper," he said, his
voice hard. "An ungrateful country clamours for war. Our word has
been pledged that Ironia shall not join in the war against the German
empires. That word must stand. Sirs, we refuse absolutely to sign
this iniquitous declaration!"
"Recollect what this refusal means, sire," urged Vanilis. "The army is
determined. Even the household guards have joined in the clamour.
Sire, your life might even be placed in jeopardy?"
"Our life is of no value beside our honour," said Alexander, with
dignified scorn. He reached into the breast of his uniform and drew
out a document, which he threw, almost contemptuously, on the table
before him. "There is our answer. The hand of Alexander will never
sign the order that declares this war. But, sirs, if on war you are
bent, war you shall have. We gladly lay down the distasteful task of
ruling a nation of ingrates."
The men round the table sat silent. But each of them knew that the
paper was the King's abdication!
As he turned the sound of sudden tumultuous cheering came up to them
from the streets below. It was almost as though the news of the
stubborn King's dramatic exit had been translated by some speedy
telepathy to the eager crowds without. Alexander frowned bitterly and
turned back to the silent company about the council table.
"They cheer now," he said grimly. "What will they do after your mad
determination and their lust has flooded the country in blood--and
German Uhlans ride down the Lodz? Sirs, I have warned you. The ruin
of Ironia be on your heads!"
"We do not fear that!" cried Vanilis. "We fight for the provinces that
were stolen from us, and God will be with us."
Alexander did not reply. He walked slowly from the room, head held
proudly high, one hand clenched across his breast, the other pressed
tightly on his sword hilt.
"The King is dead," uttered one of the men, almost with awe. "Long
live the----"
"Long live King Peter!" cried another, with enthusiasm.
For a door at the other end of the hall had opened to admit the prince.
His sudden arrival was the cause, obviously, of the clamour that had
broken out in the square below. Prince Peter was flushed with rapid
riding and spattered with mud. It was clear that he had ridden far and
fast to attend this momentous conference.
"Gentlemen, it is war!" he cried, with high enthusiasm. "The country
through which I have come is literally ablaze. Nothing can hold us
back now. Austria has struck the first blow. And I bring you news.
The Russian armies move on Mulkovina to-morrow. Ironia must declare
herself to-day."
Danilo Vanilis, sitting at the end of the table, rose and held a paper
out toward him.
"All that is needed is the signature of His Majesty the King. Sign,
sire!"
Peter gazed at the other for a moment, growing wonderment on his face.
Then he glanced quickly around the crowded board.
"Alexander abdicated five minutes ago. King Peter now rules in
Ironia," announced Vanilis with a low bow.
Peter was a man of quick comprehension and decision. He grasped the
pen.
"That king is fortunate," he declared, "whose first duty is to fight a
cause so dear to the hearts of the people over whom he has been called
to rule! To-night, sirs, we leave for the front!"