AN EMISSARY.
“It’s a church!” said Eirene, in tones of horror.
“Well, I suppose it was a church once, but it’s only a ruin now,” said
Zoe. Another day of climbing had brought them out of the forest, and
up to an isolated building standing on the saddle between two
mountain-peaks, which they were informed was to be their dwelling for
the present.
“But to live in it--it is sacrilege! And they say that we are to sleep
behind the _ikonostasis_!”
“Well, I think it’s rather nice of them. It has a roof, at any rate,
and the rest of the church hasn’t much.”
“But it is the sanctuary, where no woman may even set foot! Let us
tell them we refuse to enter.”
“And sleep out in the open, I suppose? No, thank you. Why, Eirene, the
brigands wouldn’t do anything that they thought would make the saints
angry, and they belong to the Greek Church just as much as you do.”
“They? They are miserable schismatics--followers of the upstart
heretical church of Thracia, outcasts from Orthodoxy!” cried Eirene.
“Oh, do be quiet!” cried Zoe anxiously. “That new man whom Milosch
brought with him to-day may understand English. I saw him staring hard
at you when you were kissing all those old worn-out saints on the
screen.”
“But what harm could it do if he did? These men know that they are
schismatics.”
“Yes, but it isn’t natural that a Scythian girl should think them so.
How will you account for your Greek sympathies?” A pause of horror, as
Zoe realised what she had said, then she rallied her forces. “You
know, the time for the ransom is getting so near now that I am feeling
horribly nervous. How dreadful it would be if any of us did anything
that made the brigands suspicious, so that they refused to let us go!
Do be sensible, and let us be thankful we have this nice little place
to ourselves.”
“Well, I shall sit outside as long as I can,” said Eirene obstinately.
“I suppose I must come in when it gets dark, but I feel we shall
deserve whatever may happen to us after this.”
Undisturbed by these religious, or superstitious, fears, Zoe went on
with the work of preparing the room, on the threshold of which Eirene
had been standing, declining to enter. It was the chancel, or apse, of
the ruined church, and the half-dome which formed its roof was still
in place, together with the _ikonostasis_, or wooden screen painted
with figures of saints, which separated it from the body of the
building, though the plates of metal which had formerly represented
haloes and details of clothing had been wrenched away. Beneath the
steps which led up to the sanctuary from the church was an underground
chamber, approached by a door and staircase on one side, and this was
the only place where a fire could be made, lest the light or smoke
should betray that the building was inhabited. The brigands were
already lighting the fire, and the smoke dispersed itself by way of
the staircase into the church, and penetrated through the cracks of
the screen into the sanctuary. It seemed curious that the wild bands
which made the place one of their haunts had not torn down the screen
for firewood, but apparently their sacrilegious impulses had stopped
short after depriving the saints of their haloes. Zoe went to work
methodically, spreading on the stone floor for beds the pine-branches
Maurice had cut, and unrolling the rugs. Maurice would sleep on the
threshold, on the broad topmost step, and Zoe felt an unusual sense of
comfort and security in the fact that this bare little room was to be
their own for some days. The end of the captivity was in sight--for
she entertained not the smallest doubt of the success of Wylie’s
efforts--and from the ruined church they might hope to make their last
journey as prisoners, to the spot where the ransom was to be paid.
[Image: images/img_184.jpg
Caption:
“_Well, I shall sit outside as long as I can_,” _said Eirene
obstinately._]
Her work done, Zoe sat down to rest, too tired even to pass down the
ruined nave and seek Eirene outside. Maurice was helping some of the
brigands to cut firewood in the forest, Zeko and another man were in
charge of the underground kitchen, and the rest were mending their
moccasins or lounging idly in the church. It was not dark yet, and Zoe
had accepted Eirene’s decision as unshakable, so that it was with
surprise she saw her coming up the steps, and entering the sanctuary
without protest or hesitation. Her face was aglow with hope, and she
threw herself down on the rug beside Zoe.
“Zoe,” she whispered eagerly, “we have a friend. It is Vlasto, the man
who came to-day with Milosch.”
“But have you been talking to him all this time? Oh, Eirene, suppose
he is a spy!”
“No, listen. I was sitting outside, when he came up the hill with a
bundle of wood. He stumbled and nearly fell, and called out in
Scythian--not in the mixed language the others speak. Then he
recollected himself, and looked round to see whether any one had
heard. I thought it was curious, and spoke to him in Scythian, and he
told me Professor Panagiotis had sent him.”
“The Professor? To Maurice?”
“No, to me. He guessed which I was when he saw me venerate the
_ikons_, and the stumble and the exclamation in Scythian were meant to
draw my attention.”
“But how did the Professor know you were here?”
“I asked him that, but he did not seem to know--seemed to think that
Professor Panagiotis had been expecting me as he had you, but I told
him no. Then he said the Professor must have put two and two together
when he heard I had disappeared, but he had not told him about it.”
“I hope it’s all right,” murmured Zoe doubtfully.
“What could there be wrong about it? He said that he was to warn me of
a plan the Professor hoped to carry out--and that I should not go down
to Therma with you when we are released, lest I should be recognised
by some one belonging to the Scythian colony. But I refused to
contemplate such a thing. I said I would not be separated from my
faithful friends until we were all in safety.”
“Eirene, I don’t believe the man came from Professor Panagiotis at
all!” cried Zoe. “I can’t imagine the Professor would choose a
messenger who talked Scythian, and why should he send him to you
instead of to us?”
The question in her mind was, naturally, whether the Professor could
have changed his mind and be playing Maurice false, but to Eirene her
doubt seemed the outcome of self-esteem wounded by an apparent slight.
“I must really explain things to you, Zoe,” she said, with a
gentleness which she did not intend to be patronising. “I am Eirene
Nicolaievna Féofan, and the Professor is intrusted with the
honourable task of restoring to me the throne of my imperial
ancestors.”
“Oh dear, yes, I know that,” said Zoe impatiently; “but why should he
do such a foolish thing as to send messages about it to you now?”
“You knew?” gasped Eirene. “How?”
“Oh, the Professor had told us about you, and it came to me suddenly.
You see, you fitted in with all that I knew of Eirene Féofan, and of
nobody else.”
“Does Maurice know?”
“No, I’m sure he doesn’t, and there’s no reason why he should. Let us
keep it to ourselves.”
“I particularly wish Maurice to be told,” said Eirene decisively. “If
you won’t do it, I must.”
“Oh, I will,” cried Zoe quickly.
“Very well, then; as soon as possible, please. I am glad to put things
on a right footing at last. If I had known and trusted you as I do now
when we first met, I should have told you then, as I ought.”
“Good gracious, Eirene, don’t talk as if you were suddenly removed
miles above us! We are ourselves, and you are yourself, just as
before. I can promise you that your wonderful news won’t make any
difference to us, and I have respect enough for your character to
trust that it won’t to you.”
Eirene smiled in a puzzled way. “Perhaps you would have preferred me
to follow the Professor’s advice, and say nothing to you?” she said.
“Did he tell you to say nothing to us?”
“That was his message by Vlasto, that I was not to reveal this scheme
of his to you.”
“And you go and do it at once?”
“Professor Panagiotis has no control over my actions,” said Eirene,
with dignity. “He may tender his advice, but it is for me to accept or
reject it as I think well.”
“What could have been his reason?” mused Zoe.
“He also asked whether I had told you who I was, and entreated me to
keep the secret if I had not. It made me feel that I was not treating
you fairly--that a peasant should know what my trusted companions had
not been told.”
“Did he cross-question you any more?” asked Zoe, too anxious to care
much about Eirene’s mental perplexities.
“He was very eager to know whether all the family jewels I took with
me when I escaped were hopelessly lost. It seems that the ruby _plaque
de corsage_ was exposed for sale in Therma, and has since been
destroyed--the one with the wings, you know. That made me very sad for
a moment, but I was able to assure him that I had saved the most
important of all.”
It was dark now, but she took Zoe’s hand and guided it over her skirt.
“The girdle of the Empress Isidora,” she said, as Zoe’s fingers came
in contact with something round and hard, once, again, some dozen
times in all.
“Eirene, the weights you put in your skirt! you have had them there
all this time? That was the reason you would never let any one touch
it!” cried Zoe.
“Yes, I sewed them in that day when I made you go out for a walk at
Przlepka. Doesn’t it seem a long time ago? I dared not hide them in my
pockets. The girdle is the most precious thing in the world. It has
been handed down in secret in my father’s family since the fall of
Czarigrad.”
“But, Eirene, you had it--on you--when you told the brigands you had
given up everything, and you let Captain Wylie swear that you had? He
believed what you said.”
Eirene’s face showed perplexity. “Yes,” she said, “I know. Sometimes I
have wished that I had not done it, when I saw how you and Maurice
thought of such things. But then I remembered that I could not
possibly have let it go, so I felt that there was nothing else to be
done.”
“You are not really sorry,” said Zoe with severity. “If you were, I
suppose you would give it up to the brigands now.”
“That is quite impossible,” said Eirene calmly.
“Well, you must have a funny sort of conscience. You are afraid
something will happen to you because you have to sleep in a church,
and yet you tell a deliberate lie without a qualm.”
“We need not have slept in the church. The other could not be
avoided,” said Eirene.
“Well, I expect the something has happened already, through your
talking to Vlasto. I feel more and more certain he is a spy, and no
doubt he will manage to get the girdle from you somehow. Milosch is
quite capable of having told him what to say.”
“But how should Milosch know who I am?”
“By putting two and two together, I suppose, like the Professor. Oh,
Eirene, if you have kept us from being set free next week, I shall
never---- Well, do you think that we could ever forgive you?”
“But it would be as bad for me.”
“I don’t know--perhaps not.” Eirene looked at her in wonder. “At any
rate, you would have only yourself to blame.”
“Here is Maurice,” said Eirene. “Now remember.”
Very unwillingly Zoe obeyed her instructions, and succeeded in
catching Maurice by himself the next morning.
“Eirene is particularly anxious that I should tell you something,” she
said. “She is Eirene Féofan, the girl the Professor told us about,
our very distant cousin, and the next heir after you and me.”
Maurice sat in stupefied silence for a moment. “Did you ever?” he
remarked slowly at last. “To think that we have had her with us all
this time without finding it out!”
“I found it out long ago,” said Zoe calmly.
“No, really? How?”
“Why, of course, I had been trying to place her ever since we first
met. It was clear she came from Scythia, but I didn’t think she could
belong to the Imperial family, for how could she have got away, and
why should she be wandering about on a solitary mission? Then, one
evening, in the cave, we were talking, do you remember? and it came
out that she knew the Professor, and that she sympathised with the
Greeks against the Slavs, and that she was expecting a kingdom in her
own right. She simply couldn’t be any one but Eirene Féofan.”
“But I heard it all, and never twigged.”
“Oh, you were thinking of other things--of Eirene herself, and of
ameliorating the lot of the brigands. I nearly exploded when she
accused us of trying to find out who she was, and you declared so
indignantly that we were doing nothing of the kind. It was after I had
asked her a leading question.”
Maurice frowned. “Well, I suppose you have told her who we are?” he
said.
“Certainly not, and I am not going to.”
“Then I shall.”
“No, you won’t. It wouldn’t be safe. You know what Eirene is--or,
rather, you can’t tell what she will do. Only yesterday afternoon she
made a confidant of that new brigand, Vlasto, and told him everything
she could tell, just because he said he had been sent to her by
Professor Panagiotis.”
“That’s just it. If she knew about us, she would realise that the
Professor wouldn’t send to her. It isn’t fair, Zoe. It’s placing her
under a disadvantage for us to know her secret while she doesn’t know
ours.”
“Why, what difference would it make if she did?”
Maurice appeared to find a difficulty in answering. “Well, I should
think she’d be rather pleased,” he said, after some hesitation, “to
find that we were her equals and relations and that sort of thing,
don’t you know?”
“My dear boy!” with superb scorn. “Do you know Eirene as little as
that after all this time? Do you really think she would welcome us as
relations and equals? You seem to forget that we stand for the ruin of
all her schemes. She is simply not wanted if you are recognised as the
heir.”
“Oh, I say, but this is vile!” cried Maurice. “To go and rob a poor
girl of what she has always looked forward to as her own----! Look
here, Zoe, let’s chuck it.”
“You forget the Professor,” said Zoe.
“Oh, blow the Professor! What did he mean by mixing things up in this
way? Why couldn’t he have left Eirene alone, instead of feeding her up
with the thought that she was the heir, and then bringing her here
only to disappoint her? You don’t seem to see what a low business it
is, or how much worse it makes it that we have got to know her and
find out what it means to her.”
“I can quite see why the Professor might have brought her into contact
with us, but unfortunately he didn’t. As far as I can make out, he
dropped her father finally because he would do nothing but
shilly-shally instead of taking action, but the father was indiscreet
enough to let Eirene know about the offers that had been made him. She
takes action on her own account, in a way which would have been most
embarrassing for the poor Professor but for the railway accident. In
the meantime he has found you, and thinks no more about Eirene. But if
the train had reached Therma all right, we should probably have
separated at the station only to meet upon the Professor’s doorstep,
and he would have had to decide point-blank between his rival
candidates.”
“You seem to be enjoying the whole thing,” said Maurice indignantly.
“It doesn’t occur to you how much more it is to Eirene than to us. We
have only to go home again if the thing doesn’t come off, but it’s
everything to her. She has cut herself off entirely from her friends
and everybody in Scythia, and she has no money, and even her jewellery
is gone. What is she to do?”
“It all depends on whether you care more for Eirene’s feelings or for
what you felt to be your duty when we started,” said Zoe. “You have
heard her talk; you can imagine what sort of ruler she would make if
any possible concurrence of disasters drove the Powers in desperation
to revive the Empire for her. You know, too, the lines on which you
would work if the task fell to you. Besides, it’s not a question of
feeling, but of right.”
“I always heard that women were hard on women, but I didn’t think you
were like that.”
Zoe restrained her anger with an effort. “My dear Maurice,” she said
impatiently, “you compel me to remind you that there is one very
simple and obvious way of reconciling your rights and Eirene’s. It is
still open to you.”
“What are you suggesting?” demanded Maurice.
“I suggest nothing,” Zoe replied, with a wooden face.
“You are suggesting that I should be a cad.”
“Then I will add the further suggestion that you should not be an
idiot,” said Zoe, thoroughly roused. “I merely want you to leave
things as they are until we get to Therma. Then you can do as you
like, and I fail to see where the caddishness comes in. But if we tell
Eirene who we are now, she will simply regard us as impostors, and she
will be utterly unmanageable. I have a stake in the matter as well as
you, and I absolutely refuse to allow you to tell her. I own I do put
a little value on my life.”
“I beg your pardon. I thought you meant that I was to try and make
sure of her now, when she has no one else to turn to, and can’t get
away from us.”
“Why will men always read detestable meanings into the simplest
advice?” cried Zoe, still angry; then, softening, “Dear boy, do be
sensible. What chance do you think you would have with Eirene as
things are? Wait until she knows the truth, and can realise that it is
not quite a case of Queen Cophetua and a beggar-man. But don’t risk
all our lives, just when we are within a week of safety, by giving her
the idea that you are either an impostor or a dangerous rival. I don’t
suppose for a moment that she would mean to harm you, but she acts on
impulse, and that makes her do all sorts of things. Why--I didn’t mean
to tell you, because it seems to reflect on her--but she actually told
this man Vlasto that she has carried about with her a priceless
Byzantine girdle all this time, sewn up in pieces in her skirt.”
“But I thought she gave up everything when we were captured?” said
Maurice.
“She said she did,” said Zoe reluctantly. “We were discussing whether
she ought not to give it up to the brigands now. What do you think?”
“Oh, nonsense! It isn’t as if it belonged to the brigands,” said
Maurice contemptuously. “But,” he changed the subject with an effort,
“what about this man Vlasto? Why should he address himself to her?”
“That’s exactly what makes me think he doesn’t come from the Professor
at all,” cried Zoe. “He evidently thought the Professor knew she was
coming to Therma, and brought her a message based on that, but the
Professor had no idea of her journey, or that she was with us.”
“Did she tell you what the message was?”
“It was to try to get her to separate from us when we are ransomed--on
the plea that she might be recognised in Therma. Happily, she refused,
but---- Maurice, you know it was Milosch who brought this man here. We
thought, when we saw he was not with the band the day before
yesterday, that he had gone to meet some members of his Committee, and
get fresh orders. Suppose it was a Scythian agent he went to meet, and
that Scythia had got the idea that Eirene might be here with us, and
sent Vlasto to make sure? She has given everything away.”
“We mustn’t be seeing Scythians in every bush,” said Maurice gloomily,
“but it looks bad. What can they want to get her away from us for? It
can’t mean any good to her. Zoe, will you do your level best to keep
her firm in sticking to us? You see, she is practically an outlaw,
having cut herself off from Scythian protection, but if anything
happened to you or me the matter would be looked into.”
“I will. And you won’t make any attempt to tell her who we are?”
“No. I see that it’s better not to disturb her mind.”