THE CHANCELLOR OF BARODIA HAS A LONG WALK HOME
Once more it was early morning on the castle walls.
The King sat at his breakfast table, a company of archers drawn up in
front of him.
"Now you all understand," he said. "When the King of Baro--when a
certain--well, when I say 'when,' I want you all to fire your arrows
into the air. You are to take no aim; you are just to shoot your
arrows upwards, and--er--I want to see who gets highest. Should
anything--er--should anything brush up against them on their way--not
of course that it's likely--well, in that case--er--in that case
something will--er--brush up against them. After all, what _should?_"
"Quite so, Sire," said the Captain, "or rather, not at all."
"Very well. To your places."
Each archer fitted an arrow to his bow and took up his position. A
look-out man had been posted. Everything was ready.
The King was decidedly nervous. He wandered from one archer to
another asking after this man's wife and family, praising the polish
on that man's quiver, or advising him to stand with his back a little
more to the sun. Now and then he would hurry off to the look-out man
on a distant turret, point out Barodia on the horizon to him, and
hurry back again.
The look-out knew all about it.
"Royalty over," he bellowed suddenly.
"When!" roared the King, and a cloud of arrows shot into the air.
"Well done!" cried Hyacinth, clapping her hands. "I mean, how could
you? You might have hurt him."
"Hyacinth," said the King, turning suddenly; "you here?"
"I have just come up. Did you hit him?"
"Hit who?"
"The King of Barodia, of course."
"The King of---- My dear child, what could the King of Barodia be
doing here? My archers were aiming at a hawk that they saw in the
distance." He beckoned to the Captain. "Did you hit that hawk?" he
asked.
"With one shot only, Sire. In the whisk--in the tail feathers."
The King turned to Hyacinth.
"With one shot only in the whisk--in the tail feathers," he said.
"What was it, my dear, that you were saying about the King of
Barodia?"
"Oh, Father, you are bad. You hit the poor man right in the whisker."
"His Majesty of Barodia! And in the whisker! My dear child, this is
terrible! But what can he have been doing up there? Dear, dear, this
is really most unfortunate. I must compose a note of apology about
this."
"I should leave the first note to him," said Hyacinth.
"Yes, yes, you're right. No doubt he will wish to explain how he came
to be there. Just a moment, dear."
He went over to his archers, who were drawn up in line
again.
"You may take your men down now," he said to the Captain.
"Yes, your Majesty."
His Majesty looked quickly round the castle walls, and then leant
confidentially towards the Captain.
"Er--which was the man who--er"-- he fingered his cheek--"er--quite
so. The one on the left? Ah, yes." He went to the man on the left
and put a bag of gold into his hand.
"You have a very good style with the bow, my man. Your wrist action
is excellent. I have never seen an arrow go so high."
The company saluted and withdrew. The King and Hyacinth sat down to
breakfast.
"A little mullet, my dear?" he said.
* * * * *
The Hereditary Grand Chancellor of Barodia never forgot that morning,
nor did he allow his wife to forget it. His opening, "That reminds
me, dear, of the day when----" though the signal of departure for any
guests, allowed no escape for his family. They had to have it.
And indeed it was a busy day for him. Summoned to the Palace at nine
o'clock, he found the King nursing a bent whisker and in the very
vilest of tempers. His Majesty was for war at once, the Chancellor
leant towards the Stiff Note.
"At least, your Majesty," he begged, "let me consult the precedents
first."
"There is no precedent," said the King coldly, "for such an outrage as
this."
"Not precisely, Sire; but similar unfortunate occurrences
have--occurred."
"It was worse than an occurrence."
"I should have said an outrage, your Majesty. Your late lamented
grandfather was unfortunate enough to come beneath the spell of the
King of Araby, under which he was compelled--or perhaps I should say
preferred--to go about on his hands and knees for several weeks. Your
Majesty may recall how the people in their great loyalty adopted a
similar mode of progression. Now although your Majesty's case is not
precisely on all fours----"
"Not at all on all fours," said the King coldly.
"An unfortunate metaphor; I should say that although your Majesty's
case is not parallel, the procedure adopted in your revered
grandfather's case----"
"I don't care what _you_ do with your whiskers; I don't care what
_anybody_ does with his whiskers," said the King, still soothing his
own tenderly; "I want the King of Euralia's blood." He looked round
the Court. "To any one who will bring me the head of the King, I will
give the hand of my daughter in marriage."
There was a profound silence. . . .
"Which daughter?" said a cautious voice at last.
"The eldest," said the King.
There was another profound silence. . . .
[Illustration: _He found the King nursing a bent whisker and in the
very vilest of tempers_]
"My suggestion, your Majesty," said the Chancellor, "is that for the
present there should be merely an exchange of Stiff Notes; and that
meanwhile we scour the kingdom for an enchanter who shall take some
pleasant revenge for us upon his Majesty of Euralia. For instance,
Sire, a king whose head has been permanently fixed on upside-down
lacks somewhat of that regal dignity which alone can command the
respect of his subjects. A couple of noses, again, placed at
different angles, so they cannot both be blown together----"
"Yes, yes," said the King impatiently, "_I'll_ think of the things, if
once you can find the enchanter. But they are not so common nowadays.
Besides, enchanters are delicate things to work with. They have a
habit of forgetting which side they are on."
The Chancellor's mouth drooped piteously.
"Well," said the King condescendingly, "I'll tell you what we'll do.
You may send _one_ Stiff Note and then we will declare war."
"Thank you, your Majesty," said the Chancellor.
So the Stiff Note was dispatched. It pointed out that his Majesty of
Barodia, while in the act of taking his early morning constitutional,
had been severely insulted by an arrow. This arrow, though
fortunately avoiding the more vital parts of his Majesty's person,
went so far as to wound a favourite whisker. For this the fullest
reparation must be made . . . and so forth and so on.
Euralia's reply was not long delayed. It expressed the deepest
concern at the unhappy accident which had overtaken a friendly
monarch. On the morning in question, his Majesty had been testing his
archers in a shooting competition at a distant hawk; which
competition, it might interest his Majesty of Barodia to know, had
been won by Henry Smallnose, a bowman of considerable promise. In the
course of the competition it was noticed that a foreign body of some
sort brushed up against one of the arrows, but as this in no way
affected the final placing of the competitors, little attention was
paid to it. His Majesty of Barodia might rest assured that the King
had no wish to pursue the matter farther. Indeed, he was always glad
to welcome his Barodian Majesty on these occasions. Other shooting
competitions would be arranged from time to time, and if his Majesty
happened to be passing at the moment, the King of Euralia hoped that
he would come down and join them. Trusting that her Majesty and their
Royal Highnesses were well, . . . and so on and so forth.
The Grand Chancellor of Barodia read this answer to his Stiff Note
with a growing feeling of uneasiness. It was he who had exposed his
Majesty to this fresh insult; and, unless he could soften it in some
way, his morning at the Palace might be a painful one.
As he entered the precincts, he wondered whether the King would be
wearing the famous boots, and whether they kicked seven leagues as
easily as they strode them. He felt more and more that there were
notes which you could break gently, and notes which you
couldn't. . . .
Five minutes later, as he started on his twenty-one mile walk home, he
realised that this was one of the ones which you couldn't.
* * * * *
This, then, was the real reason of the war between Euralia and
Barodia. I am aware that in saying this I differ from the eminent
historian, Roger Scurvilegs. In Chapter IX of his immortal work,
_Euralia Past and Present_, he attributes the quarrel between the two
countries to quite other causes. The King of Barodia, he says,
demanded the hand of the Princess Hyacinth for his eldest son. The
King of Euralia made some commonplace condition as that his Royal
Highness should first ride his horse up a glassy mountain in the
district, a condition which his Majesty of Barodia strongly resented.
I am afraid that Roger is incurably romantic; I have had to speak to
him about it before. There was nothing of the sentimental in the whole
business, and the facts are exactly as I have narrated them.