The 18th--19th--20th and 21st of June are known as the Queen's days,
a time of quiet in the Palace, while Margaret was sheltered by the
love of her servants from all the horrors of the blood-stained world.
Outside the guarded walls reason had fled from the earth and our
humane civilization seemed to be dying.
On the Wednesday we knew that Brand's council had assembled. On
Thursday while we waited for news it rained, on Friday a merry breeze
was laughing among the trees. On Saturday great clouds came sailing
up from the west, and scattered their sparkling showers through the
sunlight; but still we heard no tidings, saw no ships. On Sunday it
rained again, and Margaret, with her knights and gentlemen, attended
the service of the Eucharist. After luncheon Margaret left the
Russian Prince as usual to his wine, and walked with her hounds
beside the garden lake. Nobody knew what our Lady thought, nobody
guessed how much our Lady hoped, but Sydney found her sitting in the
rose arbour. At her feet the rippling lake pawed with tiny
insistence on the pebbles, but the Queen was watching the clouds, a
squadron of big white clouds which came from Avalon, from Lyonesse.
Trooper Browne, as usual, was with Sydney, but the recruit hung back
a little so that my lord was alone when he bent on his knee before
the Queen.
"What is it, Sydney?"
"We are sent, madam, to be in attendance on the Queen's Majesty."
"But I want to be alone."
Sydney looked up, and in his grave, grey eyes there was trouble.
"We all know," he said, "that our Lady wants to be alone."
"And yet you come?"
"I can't help it."
She saw the trouble deepen in his face. "God guard you, Sydney.
What's the matter now?"
"Nothing serious, madam, but please sit quite still for a moment."
Even while he spoke a gunshot rang out close beside the Queen, a deep
groan sounded from the bush behind her, and Trooper Browne rushed
past with a smoking pistol.
"Let our Lady keep still," said Sydney, never moving; and presently
Browne came back, with over elaborate calmness, to report.
"It's all right," he saluted; "only a duck."
"Ducks are out of season," remarked the Queen, gravely. "Trooper
Browne, don't you know it's unlawful to poach ducks? This is not
Canada."
"A wooden decoy duck," Browne explained, calmer than ever.
"Is it dead?"
"Quite dead, madam."
"Was it armed?"
"Yes--that is--no, madam."
"English?"
"Imported."
"Poor duck! I've heard the bushes rustling this last ten minutes. I
even heard your wooden decoy duck breathe. Come, gentlemen, sit in
the arbour with me, and look out for ducks."
They both protested.
"Nay, I command you, gentlemen." So they removed their helmets, and
Browne, sheathing his pistol, sat down very gingerly all on edge,
nursing his sword, red hot with embarrassment. Sydney crouched down
on a stool at our Lady's feet.
"At ease, dear lads," said Margaret, pleading against their silence.
"Only a minute ago you saved my life--now you must make glum faces.
You're most depressing."
Still both men were silent.
"Come," urged the Queen. "We're two men and a maid under the roses,
and it's your bounden duty to amuse the maid. Tell me the news. How
is our guest, the Russian?"
Sydney turned away his face.
"Come," cried Margaret, insisting; "what does he see now--snakes?"
"They've grown, madam," Browne grinned. "He's having a fight with
sea-serpents."
"I'd rather amuse the Queen," said my Lord. "My story is better than
that."
"A story!" Now Margaret clapped her hands with a gay little laugh.
"Once upon a time--go on, I like my fairies as naughty as can be, and
mind, plenty of fairies."
"There's only one fairy left." Sydney looked away across the sunlit
lake. "Romance is dead, and there's nothing to tell the fairy Queen
but grim, sordid, horrible tragedy."
"He's awfully tired, madam," said Browne. "Why, we've had more fun
these last three days than----"
"Let Browne begin." My Lord looked up with a smile. "I do believe
he'll make it a fairy tale."
"Why, Trooper Browne!" our Lady laughed. "This after all your
headlong adventures in Canada! Then London is not so tame and dull
as you thought?"
"Dull! Mother will be standing on her head when she knows that I've
made friends with the Marquess of Sydney, and actually spoken to the
very Queen herself. Me!"
"You dear boy,"--Margaret unfastened her bracelet;--"when you see
your mother, give her this with my love. There now, tell me the
story."
Mr. Browne was a little hysterical, but presently, under threats from
Sydney, began.
"I can't understand--do you know, madam, that there's another London
underneath the ground, with thousands of miles of tunnels and
passages, railroads and rivers--and--well, there is!
"Three nights ago, Sydney and I were off duty, and he was in my room
telling me----"
"This man," my Lord interrupted sharply, "can smell things just like
an animal, and as to his sight and hearing, they're very witchcraft."
"People here," said Browne, indignantly, "are blind, deaf, dumb, and
their noses fit for nothing but catching a cold. Why, if Sydney
turns round a corner he's lost. Anyway, that night I heard something
underground, crowbars, I thought--anyway, men at work. We knew there
must be something wrong, so we armed ourselves and bolted down to the
cellars. There's acres and acres of palace down underground, and
what with the darkness, the hundreds of different sounds, and all the
mixed smells----"
"What smells?"
"Why sawdust, madam, and wine casks and stores, machinery--all sorts
of smells. I couldn't tell where to look. We were off near the
south-west court, when all of a sudden I smelt sumach leaves rotting
after a frost--Sydney made out it was drains, and that was no dream
either when we got a little nearer. It came through a door, and
behind we could hear men at work trying to keep quiet--shouting in
whispers, and splashing as if they were all having a bath. When we
broke through the door we found it opened into a ventilator shaft
which goes up three hundred feet through the south-west tower. Close
under us it opened down into a big tunnel half full of water, sort of
railway tunnel it looked, but Sydney says it's a sewer."
"It's the Tyburn," my Lord explained.
A thousand years ago the Tyburn was a brook, and one can trace its
valley still through Tyburnia--the Mayfair district, the dip in
Piccadilly, and the hollows of Green Park and St. James's Park, to
where it ran into the Thames at Westminster.
"The Tyburn," said my Lord, "has become a sewer, and it flows right
under the Palace."
"A river under my Palace!"
"Yes, madam," said Browne, "we found it full of punts and little
barges, with flaring torches to light them, and a score of sewer men
working away like beavers."
"But what were they doing?"
"They were busy unloading the boxes, small chests, several tons,
madam."
"Chests of what?"
"Dynamite, madam."
"Good gracious!"
"Please don't be frightened, there's nothing to fear," my Lord
laughed easily. "I inspected the work, and the electrician showed me
some really excellent casing and insulation. The foreman, a Mr.
Briggs, had no doubt whatever that the effect would be most volcanic,
and they all took quite a pride when I praised their efforts."
"To blow up the Palace!"
"Yes, Lord Ulster is ever thoughtful for our Lady's comfort. I
proposed to send down refreshments."
"Refreshments," Browne chuckled. "He threatened to empty the Palace
tanks and drown them."
"I'm sorry to say," continued my Lord, "that Trooper Browne was rude
to Mr. Briggs. If his carbine had actually gone off--the dynamite
you know--the situation needed delicate handling."
"They sneaked behind Sydney and made him prisoner!" cried Browne,
indignantly.
"A guest," said my Lord, correcting him. "I had ventured to suggest
that the explosives should be moved further down the tunnel and
stacked underneath the Departments of State in Whitehall, Ulster's
seat of Government. They thought he might be annoyed, and Ulster,
you see, provided food for their wives and families. They offered to
take me to his Grace of Ulster."
"They lashed him down on the barge," said Trooper Browne.
"Yes," my Lord assented; "Browne jumped down into the barge on top of
me, ran his sword through Mr. Briggs, settled with the electrician,
and cut me loose. The rest of the men attacked us vigorously, but it
was hardly fair play, as we could not provide them with swords.
Several were hurt. After Browne's jump, I had little wind for
talking, but in the end we resumed the conversation just where it
left off."
"He'd talk a bird off a tree!" said Browne.
"Somehow," my dear Lord flushed, "I have a knack of making friends
with the very roughest men, though I always fail with the smooth.
This dear Browne, for instance, seems to get on with me. I told the
sewer men that I had the honour to be Ulster's
next-of-kin--that--that if--if the Lord Protector were to leave this
world which he has so graced, certain estates would fall to me--which
I could not accept. In fact, by a written deed I made them in some
measure heirs of his Grace--and more suitable heirs than I for such a
nobleman. I expressly by deed forbade them to assist at his death.
If Whitehall is changed by earthquake, no man will fire the mine save
my Lord Protector. He has laid mines, let him fire his mines with
his own hand, and go to his God for judgment."
The Queen's hand stole out softly and rested upon my Lord's shoulder.
"And may I go on?" he asked.
"Surely."
"My friends of the sewers have been very good to me, and they had to
save their families from hunger.
"They're a queer people, wearing great heavy boots up to their
thighs, and rough suits of canvas. They lent us such clothes the
night before last, and Browne and I went with them to see the mines
of dynamite under Whitehall. In course of a long, rather unpleasant
ramble we came directly underneath the Chancellery and got our
friends to break a passage upward into the building. Last
night--taking our swords as a precaution, we visited the Chancellor's
room, and found there a gentleman engaged at the telegraph. We had
to wait some time before this gentleman noticed our presence. When
he was at leisure Browne offered him the use of a sword. I found him
an accomplished swordsman."
"Who was this gentleman?" asked Margaret, and Lord Sydney rose upon
his knees.
"Madam," he said, gravely, "I engaged my commanding officer."
"You fought the Duke of Gloucester!'
"I killed him."
Sydney drew his sword, and pointing the blade at his own breast
presented the hilt to his sovereign.
"You have killed Rupert!" Margaret laid her hands upon the hilt.
"Heaven be my witness that now, and afterwards, I am ready to share
the blame, and if there's punishment now or afterwards let it fall on
me. What am I, Sydney, that I should have a friend like you, so
loyal, so fearless, and so great? There, my dear friend, put away
your sword. I knew that my cousin Gloucester was disloyal, and you
have cleansed the dishonour of the Guard."
"I am forgiven?"
"So far as a very unhappy woman can forgive the dearest friend she
has in the world." She thought for a moment, then, speaking eagerly,
"What time did this happen?"
"At eight this morning, madam."
"Do you know that was the time of the early service?"
"I was thinking of that."
"Sydney, when I knelt before the Table, I saw you at my side!"
"To-day I have been at peace," said my Lord.
"I, too, Sydney. You have news for me. Why keep it back?"
"Madam, I have news. I want to turn my back--for once, upon my Lady.
May I?"
He crouched at her feet again, looking away across the lake, the
garden trees, and the white cloud flecks, even to where the sun was,
westward.
"I must speak," he said in a low voice, "of Ulster, who is reputed to
be my father. I don't think I have any bitter thoughts left, but I
would not claim this man for my father. My mother was a gentlewoman,
and is with the angels. That she was his wife so tarnishes her
sacred memory that I would rather believe her mistaken in supposing
the Duke of Ulster to be my father."
Margaret was stroking the man's bowed head. "Sydney," she whispered,
"I loved her. And Trooper Browne is here."
"Browne is deaf," said my Lord.
"Browne is deaf," echoed the man who loved him.
"But Margaret hears," said our Lady; "and Margaret understands."
"In Ulster's office,"--my Lord looked down at the rippled lake--"I
overheard an exchange of messages between his Royal Highness and the
Lord Protector. Of all spies and eavesdroppers I seem the most
fortunate."
"Oh, Sydney, you have news of Lyonesse?"
"Madam, for three days past, Ulster has been in possession of the
city."
Our Lady uttered a low cry of fear.
"He captured one of the great etheric liners--the _Golden Hind_.
Brand had but one ship, the _Lion_, on guard above his cottage at the
time his Ministers assembled. The _Lion_ was rammed by the _Golden
Hind_, and fell right on the crown of the Tol Pedn cliffs, and the
very rocks on which the cottage stood were thrown down the wall into
the sea."
"I cannot bear it, Sydney! I cannot bear it!"
My Lord looked up, his eyes glittering with tears. "You are a woman,
and women are braver than men. You are the Queen, and dying England
dies with majesty. The lightnings of God shall find no cowardice,
and at the Last Judgment England shall not flinch."
"I forgot myself," said Margaret very humbly, "Go on--I will be
quiet."
"I must go on,"--my Lord wiped the sweat from his forehead. "When
Brand recaptured Lyonesse last Sunday, Ulster's troops took refuge
near Marazion, and there starved. On Friday morning, under orders
from the _Golden Hind_ they entered the city again, and for these two
days they have murdered, plundered, and burned while they searched
for Brand. Lyonesse is a ruin, but the master has not been found.
It is known that he is alive, signals from his aerograph have been
intercepted; but the search for his hiding-place has failed, and
Ulster is coming back to-day."
The Queen was praying.
"In the great purposes of God he lives." My Lord lifted his eyes
towards the declining sun. "There is hope, and I know that God will
not let England go from serving Him. The fire of our national life
dies down to ashes until the one spark left is hidden courage, ready
to flame again when the time comes."
Browne turned his face away, for our Lady sobbed.
"Ulster is coming," said my Lord presently. "He has stolen the
powers of Lyonesse, and for the time he is master--for the time."
Browne was peering at the western sky, shading his eyes with both
hands.
"I see something," he muttered, "right under the sun, a bright speck,
like a planet. Is that the _Golden Hind_?"
"Ulster is coming," my Lord shivered. "He will come here demanding
audience." Then, looking up from where he crouched at her feet, "My
Lady," he said in a very soft low voice, his lips tremulous, his eyes
full of yearning love; "perhaps this is the last favour I may ever
ask--to see the Queen alone."
"Trooper Browne," said our Lady, huskily, "as I'm a woman I ought to
be ready to receive the Duke when he comes. Please, will you go and
gather some of the very dark roses that are nearly black--and bring
them to me here."
"Margaret,"--my Lord's eyes watched his friend going away in search
of dark roses. "I shall go with Ulster presently. For me this is
the end."
"We shall not live, dear Sydney," answered the Queen. "We shall not
have to bear the pain for ever, and Death is merciful."
"Then let the words come, Margaret, since nothing matters any more.
Before I go out to meet this death, I love you. Oh, most royal woman
that ever lived, I came to serve in the Palace knowing that because I
dared to love the Queen, I must never know peace of mind
again--except such peace--you say that I was with you this morning?"
"At the Communion Table, yes."
"Was I beside you, Margaret?"
"Yes."
"Did you see me lift my hands to take the Elements?"
"They were covered with blood."
"At that moment I knelt by Gloucester, and my hands were wet with
blood trying to tie an artery. I lifted my hands and you were beside
me, Margaret! Margaret, I have been at peace knowing well that
to-day I must take my father's life."
"Oh, my dear brother! my brother Sydney! The only brother I have
known."
Bending down she took his face within her hands and kissed him upon
the forehead.
Then looking steadfastly into her eyes. "I see," he whispered,
awestruck, "the Queen seated on the throne--the old throne in the
Abbey, and Brand is standing on the steps of the throne. So be it."
And laying his head upon her knees he cried, our Lady giving him ease
with a touch of her fingers.
* * * * *
The Queen had granted audience to Ulster. In her face there was
peace as of one dead, about her shoulders and in her hair she wore
long, thorny, sprays of the dark roses whose petals were like a
sacramental wine. She neither moved nor spoke, and silent on her
right hand, and her left, stood the two Guardsmen, their hands
resting on the hilts of their drawn swords in readiness.
The Dictator was greatly changed, grown very old, his flesh wasted,
his eyes burning as though with fever. Behind him the sun was
setting, the lake was red, and over his face the shadows of night
were deepening.
"Princess Margaret," he said, laying bitter stress on the words of
courtesy, "I have come to declare to the ex-Queen these written
intentions of the Government." He presented a roll of parchment,
which our Lady made no movement to accept. He laid the parchment at
her feet. "Your Royal Highness is granted until sunrise," he
announced, "to repudiate the treason of John Brand."
"Sydney," the Queen whispered, "speak to this man."
My Lord Sydney turned his eyes slowly to the Dictator. "George, Duke
of Ulster," he said, very quietly, "Her Imperial Majesty commands
your attendance at sunrise here. Meanwhile she is pleased to grant
you my escort to the gates." Still with the drawn sword in his hand,
my Lord saluted her Majesty, and backed from the presence. "Sir," he
said to the Dictator, "we have her Majesty's permission to withdraw.
Come." He led Ulster away, and as they passed out of sight among the
trees, "Father," he said, "father!"
"What, you?"
"There's no one in hearing, sir."