THE LOYALTY OF THE ARMY.
The military force of the Lauranian Republic was proportioned to the
duties of protecting its territories from invasion and of maintaining
law and order within them, but was by the wisdom of former days
restricted to limits which did not encourage great schemes of foreign
conquest nor any aggressive meddling in the affairs of the neighbouring
principalities. Four regiments of cavalry, twenty battalions of foot,
and eight field-batteries comprised the Army of the Line. Besides
these there was the Republican Guard, which consisted of a regiment of
Lancers and three strong battalions of veteran infantry and supported
by their discipline the authority, and by their magnificence the
dignity, of the State.
The great capital city, which exceeded in wealth, population, and
turbulence the aggregate of the provincial towns, had for its garrison
the Guard and half of the entire army. The remaining troops were
scattered in small country stations and on the frontiers.
All the pains that the President had taken to maintain the good will of
the soldiery had proved vain. The revolutionary movement had grown
apace in the ranks of the army, till they were now thoroughly
disaffected, and the officers felt that their orders would be obeyed
only so far as they were agreeable. With the Guard it was different.
All, or nearly all, had borne their part in the late war and had
marched to victory under the generalship of the President. They
honoured and trusted their former commander, and were in turn honoured
and trusted by him; indeed the favour he had shewn them may have been
among the causes which had alienated the rest.
It was the greater part of this Guard that Molara, in his heavy need,
was about to send against the invaders. He well knew the danger of
depriving himself of the only troops he could rely on, should the city
itself rise; but the advancing forces must be stopped at all hazards,
and the Guard alone were able and willing to do the work. He would be
left almost alone amid the populace who detested him, in the city he
had ruled so sternly, with mutinous soldiers as his only defenders. It
was not an inviting prospect, yet it presented some chances of success.
It displayed a confidence which, though assumed, might decide the
waverers and disgust his foes; and it dealt with the most pressing
emergency, which was after all the first duty of the Executive. He did
not doubt the ability of the troops he had despatched to disperse, if
not to destroy, the rabble that had crossed the frontier. That danger
at least was removed by his action. In two days the fleet would
return, and under its guns his Government might still continue, feared
and respected. The intervening period was the crisis, a crisis which
he hoped to pass safely through, partly by the force of his
personality, and partly by the ridicule and contempt in which he
intended to plunge his terrible rival.
Punctually at eleven o'clock he left his private office to attire
himself in his full uniform as a general of the army, in order that at
the parade the troops might be reminded that he too was a soldier and
one who had seen much war.
At the door Lieutenant Tiro presented himself, in a great state of
perturbation. "Sir," he said, "you will allow me to go with my
squadron to the front? There will be nothing for me to do here."
"On the contrary," replied the President, "there will be a great deal
for you to do here. You must stay."
Tiro turned pale. "I do beg you, Sir, to allow me to go," he said
earnestly.
"Impossible,--I want you here."
"But, Sir----"
"Oh, I know," said Molara impatiently; "you want to get shot at. Stay
here, and I promise you shall hear bullets in plenty before you have
done." He turned away, but the look of bitter disappointment on the
young officer's face induced him to pause. "Besides," he added,
assuming that charm of manner of which few great men are destitute, "I
require you for a service of difficulty and extreme danger. You have
been specially selected."
The Subaltern said no more, but he was only half consoled. He thought
ruefully of the green country, the glinting lances, the crack of the
rifles, and all the interest and joy of war. He would miss everything;
his friends would be there, but he would not share their perils. They
would talk of their adventures in after days and he would have no part
in their discussions; they would even laugh at him as a "tame cat" of
the palace, an aide-de-camp for ornamental purposes only. And as he
mourned, a distant trumpet-call stung him like the cut of a whip. It
was Boots and Saddles,--the Lancers of the Guard were turning out. The
President hurried off to array himself, and Tiro descended the stairs
to order the horses.
Molara was soon ready, and joined his aide-de-camp on the steps of the
palace. Attended by a small escort they rode to the railway-station,
passing, on the way, through groups of sullen citizens who stared
insolently, and even spat on the ground in hatred and anger.
The artillery had already been despatched, but the entraining of the
rest of the troops had not commenced when the President arrived, and
they were drawn up (the cavalry in mass, the infantry in line of
quarter-columns) in the open space in front of the terminus. Colonel
Brienz, who commanded the force, was mounted at their head. He
advanced and saluted; the band struck up the Republican Hymn, and the
infantry presented arms with a clash of precision. The President
acknowledged these compliments with punctilious care; and then, as the
rifles were shouldered, he rode towards the ranks.
"You have a splendid force, Colonel Brienz," he said addressing the
Colonel, but speaking loud enough to be heard by the troops. "To your
skill and to their courage the Republic entrusts its safety, and
entrusts it with confidence." He then turned to the troops: "Soldiers,
some of you will remember the day I asked you to make a great effort
for your country and your honour; Sorato is the name that history has
given to the victory which was your answer to my appeal. Since then we
have rested in peace and security, protected by the laurels that have
crowned your bayonets. Now, as the years have passed, those trophies
are challenged, challenged by the rabble whose backs you have seen so
often. Take off the old laurels, soldiers of the Guard, and with the
bare steel win new ones. Once again I ask you to do great things, and
when I look along your ranks, I cannot doubt that you will do them.
Farewell, my heart goes with you; would to God I were your leader!"
He shook hands with Brienz and with the senior officers amid loud
cheers from the troops, some of whom broke from the ranks to press
around him, while others raised their helmets on their bayonets in
warlike enthusiasm. But as the shouting ceased, a long, discordant
howl of derision, till then drowned by the noise, was heard from the
watching crowds,--a sinister comment!
Meanwhile at the other end of the town the mobilisation of the Reserve
Brigade revealed the extreme contrast between the loyalty and
discipline of the Guard and the disaffection of the regiments of the
Line.
An ominous silence reigned throughout the barracks. The soldiers
walked about moodily and sullenly, making little attempt to pack their
kits for the impending march. Some loitered in groups about the
parade-ground and under the colonnade which ran round their quarters;
others sat sulking on their cots. The habit of discipline is hard to
break, but here were men steeling themselves to break it.
These signs did not pass unnoticed by the officers who awaited in
anxious suspense the hour of parade.
"Don't push them," Sorrento had said to the colonels, "take them very
gently;" and the colonels had severally replied that they would answer
with their lives for the loyalty of their men. It was nevertheless
thought advisable to try the effect of the order upon a single
battalion, and the 11th Regiment was the first to receive the command
to turn out.
The bugles blew briskly and cheerily, and the officers, hitching up
their swords and pulling on their gloves, hurried to their respective
companies. Would the men obey the summons? It was touch and go.
Anxiously they waited. Then by twos and threes the soldiers shuffled
out and began to form up in their ranks. At length the companies were
complete, sufficiently complete, that is to say, for there were many
absentees. The officers inspected their units. It was a dirty parade;
the accoutrements were uncleaned, the uniforms carelessly put on, and
the general appearance of the men was slovenly to a degree. But of
these things no notice was taken, and as they walked along the ranks
the subalterns found something to say in friendly chaff to many of
their soldiers. They were greeted however with a forbidding silence, a
silence not produced by discipline or by respect. Presently _Markers_
sounded, the companies moved to the general parade-ground, and soon the
whole battalion was drawn up in the middle of the barrack-square.
The Colonel was on his horse, faultlessly attired, and attended by his
Adjutant. He looked calmly at the solid ranks before him, and nothing
in his bearing revealed the terrible suspense which filled his mind and
gripped his nerve. The Adjutant cantered along the column collecting
the reports. "All present, Sir," said the company commanders, but
there were several whose voices quavered. Then he returned to the
Colonel, and fell into his place. The Colonel looked at his regiment,
and the regiment at their Colonel.
"Battalion,--attention!" he cried, and the soldiers sprang up with a
clatter and a click. "Form,--fours."
The word of command was loud and clear. About a dozen soldiers moved
at the call of instinct--moved a little--looked about them, and
shuffled back to their places again. The rest budged not an inch. A
long and horrid silence followed. The Colonel's face turned grey.
"Soldiers," he said, "I have given you an order; remember the honour of
the regiment. Form,--fours." This time not a man moved. "As you
were," he shouted desperately, though it was an unnecessary command.
"The battalion will advance in quarter-column. Quick march!"
The battalion remained motionless.
"Captain Lecomte," said the Colonel, "what is the name of the
right-hand man of your company?"
"Sergeant Balfe, Sir," replied the officer.
"Sergeant Balfe, I order you to advance. Quick--march!"
The sergeant quivered with excitement; but he held his ground.
The Colonel opened his pouch and produced his revolver with much
deliberation. He looked carefully at it, as if to see that it was well
cleaned; then he raised the hammer and rode up close to the mutineer.
At ten yards he stopped and took aim. "Quick--march!" he said in a low
menacing voice.
It was evident that a climax had been reached, but at this instant
Sorrento, who, concealed in the archway of the barrack-gate, had
watched the proceedings, rode into the square and trotted towards the
soldiers. The Colonel lowered his pistol.
"Good-morning," said the War-Minister.
The officer replaced his weapon and saluted.
"Is the regiment ready to move off?" and then before a reply could be
given he added: "A very smart parade, but after all it will not be
necessary to march to-day. The President is anxious that the men
should have a good night's rest before starting, and," raising his
voice, "that they should drink a bumper to the Republic and confusion
to her enemies. You may dismiss them, Colonel."
"Fall out," said the Colonel, not even caring to risk going through the
correct procedure for dismissing.
The parade broke up. The ordered ranks dissolved in a crowd, and the
soldiers streamed off towards their barracks. The officers alone
remained.
"I should have shot him, Sir, in another instant," said the Colonel.
"No good," said Sorrento, "to shoot one man; it would only infuriate
them. I will have a couple of machine-guns down here to-morrow
morning, and we shall see then what will happen."
He turned suddenly, interrupted by a storm of broken and confused
cheering. The soldiers had almost reached their barracks; one man was
raised on the shoulders of others, and surrounded by the rest of the
regiment, waving their helmets, brandishing their rifles, and cheering
wildly.
"It is the sergeant," said the Colonel.
"So I perceive," replied Sorrento bitterly. "A popular man, I suppose.
Have you many non-commissioned officers like that?" The Colonel made
no reply. "Gentlemen," said the War-Minister to the officers who
loitered on the square, "I would recommend you to go to your quarters.
You are rather tempting targets here, and I believe your regiment is a
particularly good shooting regiment. Is it not, Colonel?"
With which taunt he turned and rode away, sick at heart with anger and
anxiety, while the officers of the 11th Regiment of Lauranian Infantry
retired to their quarters to hide their shame and face their danger.