_IMPERIUM IN IMPERIO._
Something went wrong with the great plan conceived by Prince Romanos
for the discomfiture of the Roumi invaders. A reckless expenditure of
fuel produced a most inviting beacon on the headland, and a bonfire in
the village which endangered every house within reach, but the eager
watchers who crouched in their hiding-places on either side of the
harbour-mouth, finger on trigger, were not rewarded by the entrance of
any hostile boats. Very naturally they imagined more than once that
they saw some, and in defiance of orders, fired several shots before
they realised that their eyes had deceived them, and this gave
admirable scope for mutual recrimination when it was afterwards
discussed who had frightened the enemy away. Wylie stood alone as an
exponent of the highly unpopular theory that the Roumi prisoner had
deliberately deceived his captors by inducing them to light a fire on
the headland, which he knew was the prearranged signal denoting danger
instead of safety. An indignant deputation at once invaded the cottage
in which the prisoner was quartered, but he had saved the situation by
dying of his wounds, and the secret thus lost was unanimously voted
not to exist. The skill and foresight of Prince Romanos had prepared a
signal defeat for the enemy, which had not taken place solely because
of the impatience or nervousness of some excited patriots. These took
the first opportunity of cleaning their rifles and inserting fresh
cartridges, so that the accusation of having fired was bandied about
with a fine impartiality based upon the conviction that it could never
be brought home to any one in particular.
This belief that Prince Romanos had guided the insurgents within
measurable distance of a decisive triumph--missed only through the
precipitate action of some persons unknown--smoothed his path when he
unfolded his views the next day. He asked for volunteers for coast
work, and the whole force desired to enrol themselves under his
banner, leaving Wylie in the rather undignified position of a
commander without any soldiers. With much tact Prince Romanos pointed
out that he could accept only recruits who had practical experience in
managing boats, and in this way he weeded out all but the fishermen of
the peninsula and such of the mainland refugees as came from the
coast. Still, even this reduction followed a curiously marked line.
“I suppose you see,” said Wylie to Maurice, as he looked over his
lists, “that we are practically left with the Slavs, while all the
Greeks have followed Christodoridi? It’s just the old cleavage over
again.”
“That’s bad. How has he managed it?”
“It didn’t want much management--I must do him the justice to say
that. It comes simply from the geographical distribution of the
people--the Slavs generally north and inland, the Greeks in most cases
south and on the coast. It’s natural enough that the Greeks should be
the fishing people, and I suppose it’s merely a coincidence that he
has fixed on them.”
“We can hardly stipulate that either you or I should be always about
with him, to make sure that he doesn’t use the position for his own
advantage,” said Maurice, answering the doubt suggested by Wylie’s
manner rather than his words.
“No, you gave up all possibility of that when you handed him over a
share in the enterprise practically without conditions. By your new
way of conducting family feuds he has as much right to lead as you
have.”
“We are both under you,” said Maurice quickly. “You are
Commander-in-Chief, and Christodoridi’s department of coast defence is
entirely subordinate to you at headquarters.”
“I must show it by calling up the men for drill on convenient days. I
have an idea that their alacrity in volunteering for him was not
unconnected with the prospect of a blissful future in which every man
would fight as he liked. But it may be necessary any day to get all
our forces together. I hear this morning that a Roumi detachment has
occupied Ahmed Pasha,”--this was the village on the mainland nearest
to Karakula and the isthmus. “Very likely they intended a simultaneous
attack on Karakula and Ephestilo, but now they may prefer to advance
in force by land.”
In spite of this forward movement, however, the Roumi authorities were
singularly tardy in taking any decisive step. Such news as filtered
through to the insurgent headquarters ascribed the delay to intrigues
at Czarigrad and to the divided councils of the Powers. Europe was
united, it seemed, in coercing the insurgents, since the British
warships blockading the Skandalo side of the peninsula were now
reinforced by those of other nations, but it could not decide to what
extent the Roumi Government was to be allowed a free hand. This
respite was of service in allowing Prince Romanos to organise his
scheme of defence, though it was dangerous owing to the steady
consumption of provisions, which there were no means of replacing. In
this particular also Prince Romanos proved himself useful. He had
fixed his headquarters at Skandalo, and he discovered that the wary
townspeople were contriving to make the best of both worlds by
despatching secretly boat-loads of fresh provisions to the blockading
ships. It could hardly be doubted that news was conveyed in the same
way, and amid the loudly expressed opposition of the inhabitants,
Prince Romanos requisitioned all the craft belonging to the town for
the service of the Constitutional Assembly, and bought up all the
provisions in store, and also the growing crops. The shopkeepers,
seeing themselves deprived of the high prices which they had been in
the habit of obtaining, were very angry, and the cultivators, who had
sold their vegetables to the insurgents with the artless intention of
selling them over again to the fleets, resented hotly their fields and
gardens being placed under guard, but the leakage was stopped.
Moreover, the fishermen scouts brought in now and then accessions of
strength,--a boat-load of sympathisers from various countries, anxious
to offer the remainder of their (generally discreditable) lives as a
sacrifice upon the altar of Emathian freedom, or a collection of guns
and ammunition--the ammunition never by any chance fitting the
guns--which had been subscribed for by revolutionary circles in
continental capitals, and brought thus far on its way by means of
lavish bribery of Roumi officials. They obtained news also, through
the accredited agents of Professor Panagiotis, who was working
heroically with pen and telegraph to impress upon Europe the
importance of the Hagiamavran experiment, and to discount in advance
the failure which most people predicted for it. He adjured the
insurgents to maintain their position at all costs. Europe was already
at a loss to know how to deal with them, and the situation must become
intolerable if it lasted much longer. Some of the Powers were already
threatening to withdraw from the Concert unless more stringent
measures were adopted, which the others would not allow, and the
brightest hope for the future lay in the prospect that they would
carry out their threat. Till then the insurgents had only to hold
their ground, repelling all blandishments on the part of the Consuls
or other representatives of the Powers, refusing any concessions from
Roum, no matter how ample, that were offered without a European
guarantee, and above all, remaining absolutely united.
This last counsel of perfection was the more difficult to follow that
a distinct difference of opinion was beginning to make itself felt in
the deliberations of the leaders. Prince Romanos was claiming--with
studied moderation, but still as a right--the power of initiating
minor operations without referring every detail to Maurice at the
monastery and Wylie wherever he might happen to be. There were so many
small triumphs possible, as he justly said,--such as cutting off a
picket of Roumi soldiers, or waylaying a boat from the mainland on its
way to the fleet and forcibly buying up its freight of
provisions,--which would serve to raise the spirits of his men, but
the opportunity for which would be lost were he compelled to send and
ask leave before starting. Maurice hesitated to sanction these
measures, considering that the comparative leniency of the Powers, in
“keeping a ring” for the insurgents and seeing that the Roumis fought
fair, demanded that the insurgents should abstain from aggressive
movements in return. They ought to confine themselves to the defence
of the peninsula, and not attack either Roumi soil on the mainland or
Roumi vessels outside Hagiamavran waters. Wylie shook his head when
this theory was broached in his hearing.
“Won’t work,” he said. “We can’t afford to stick to these rocks merely
as a moral object-lesson for Europe. Provisions are running out,
Armitage is probably hovering round outside the warships, trying to
nose his way in, and can’t do it, and if we go on passively resisting
we shall simply be starved out. Even a temporary foothold on Roumi
territory means a chance of adding to our stores.”
“But it also means a larger area to guard,” objected Maurice.
“Do the men good. They are getting fed up with the notion that they
know all that there is to be known of drill, and are practically
invincible. They are growing stale from too much contemplation of
their own military virtues. A few small affairs, in which they would
get just a little knocked about, would do them all the good in the
world, and possibly avert the general stampede which would be a moral
certainty if the Roumis attacked us in force to-day with artillery.”
“But the Powers,” persisted Maurice. “They have really displayed
remarkable forbearance, and to prejudice our cause in their eyes by
acts of aggression----”
“Prince,” said Wylie solemnly, “make no mistake. You can’t prejudice
your cause in the eyes of the Powers, because it is already damned
beyond redemption as far as three of them are concerned. You want a
free and independent Emathia and they don’t. They don’t venture to
deal with you themselves, because they are horribly jealous of one
another, and they have a haunting fear that England might suddenly go
mad and do something rash and high-sounding if they attempted anything
like the partition of Poland over again too soon. But they mean to see
you cleared out, and by fair means or foul they’ll do it. To sit still
and wait will only prolong the agony. Let ’em see you’ve got teeth and
will die game.”
“But if we die, we want our dying to do some good for Emathia,” said
Maurice.
“Well, and it will do more good to die fighting than preserving a
correct moral attitude on a pedestal. We have the shadow of a chance
one way, none the other. Not to mention that you can’t play
Christodoridi’s game better than by holding the men back when they
want to fight.”
“What is his game--your view of it, I mean?”
“To make himself prince and marry your sister.”
The unhesitating reply surprised Maurice. “But Zoe won’t have anything
to say to him,” he objected.
“I hope she will.” Wylie said it with the grim determination of the
man who prides himself on rising superior to his own feelings. “If he
brings off the other part of the programme, of course, that is. Sort
of compensation to you for cutting you out, don’t you see? Awfully
good for him, too. She would keep him in hand--might even make
something of him.”
“I don’t doubt it’s being good for him, but it would be misery for
her. She won’t do it. Why, there was that girl at Bashi Konak--the
maid-of-honour. He flirted with her under Zoe’s very eyes. That’s not
the kind of thing a woman forgets in a hurry.”
“You know more about women than I do, no doubt--better opportunities.
The question is whether Christodoridi doesn’t know even more than you.
At any rate, I’ve told you what he’s got in his head, and you’ll see
that I am correct.”
“I don’t believe the beggar has the cheek,” said Maurice, unconvinced,
but a few days later he was reluctantly compelled to acknowledge that
Wylie was in all probability right. It was early morning, and the
party at the monastery were at breakfast in the gallery, Maurice and
Wylie taking the meal in haste between a surprise inspection of the
nearest camp and a long tramp over the hills which formed the backbone
of the peninsula, to examine the defences behind Karakula. Up to the
monastery gate came the thud of soft-shod running feet, and a panting
voice summoned the guards to open. A struggle seemed to follow upon
the opening, but the runner, a lithe young Greek, wriggled through his
opponents and flung himself up the steps. At the top he drew himself
up and bowed courteously all round.
“A message and a gift for the Lady Zoe from the Lord Romanos,” he
said, and paused impressively. From the folds of his shirt he drew out
something scarlet and white in a crumpled mass, then shook it out with
the dexterity of a conjuror, and exhibited a Roumi flag. “Last night
it waved over the quarters of the Roumi commander at Ahmed Pasha. This
morning it is at the feet of the Lady Zoe,” and he spread it proudly
on the ground before her.
Much against her will, Zoe felt her colour rise as she stooped to look
at it. She glanced at Wylie with something of defiance. “It’s rather
large for a handkerchief, and rather small for a tablecloth, isn’t
it?” she said, with exaggerated flippancy. To her utter disgust, Wylie
answered her only by a frown and an instant endeavour to remove the
bad impression she had made.
“Did Prince Christodoridi himself secure this trophy?” he asked,
forcing a corner of the flag into her reluctant fingers. The
messenger, who had been watching with distinct animosity Zoe’s
reception of the offering, brightened again at once.
“It is more than a trophy; it is a token,” he replied. “This morning
the Imperial Eagle flies over Ahmed Pasha, in the place of that
dishonoured rag.”
“What! Prince Christodoridi has taken the village?” cried Maurice. The
messenger swelled with pride.
“With the noble Prince as leader, we stole upon the place last night
in three bands, and took the Roumi dogs by surprise. The village is
now free from them.”
“How many prisoners?” asked Wylie sharply.
“None, lord. It was a sharp fight, a fight to a finish.”
“I hope it’s all right,” said Wylie to Maurice in English. “We don’t
want prisoners, certainly, but I know these fellows’ ways. Did the
Prince capture the tower of Segreti at the same time?” he asked the
messenger, alluding to an old Venetian fortification near the village,
which had been used as a citadel by the Roumis.
“Nay, lord, the noise of the fighting warned the garrison, and we
could not take them by surprise. But the Lord Romanos is even now
directing the digging of a trench which is to cut off their
water-supply, and then the tower also will fall into our hands.”
“We will visit Prince Christodoridi this morning, and congratulate him
on his success,” said Maurice. “You can take the day for rest, and
return to him in the evening.”
“Nay, lord, I will return at once, and inform the Prince that you and
the Lord Glafko will visit him,” was the reply, and refusing all
offers of refreshment, the messenger set out at once. Maurice and
Wylie followed on mules, noticing as they went the ferment caused by
the news of the capture of the Roumi post. Their own men were
crestfallen and resentful, the Greeks flushed with triumph. The old
schism was present in a form comparatively harmless, but capable of
being grievously accentuated, for the wildest tales of spoil and
slaughter, springing from seed casually flung by the messenger on his
way, were circulating everywhere, and the Slavs were asking why they
had not been allowed their share. Arrived at the isthmus, they found
Karakula practically deserted, its garrison having marched in a body
to Ahmed Pasha in hope of loot.
“Pretty thing if the Roumis had landed now!” said Wylie grimly.
“Christodoridi and half our force cut off outside our boundaries, and
Karakula undefended. I’ll stay here and beat up what recruits I can,
Prince, while you go on and fetch the fellows back.”
Maurice went on, to be greeted by a few stray shots from the ramparts
of Segreti, and to find the work of cutting off the water-supply at a
standstill, the men refusing to dig until they had thoroughly
ransacked the village. Prince Romanos met him in a state of mind
compounded of pride and disgust. His force was now engaged in testing
walls and turning up the ground round the houses, to discover where
the inhabitants had concealed their hoards, and the triumph of the
night might at any moment be turned into disaster if the garrison of
Segreti should pluck up sufficient courage to make a sortie. Together
the two leaders beat up a band of the men most amenable to reason, and
sent them back to reinforce Wylie, and then they set to work to
collect the rest and post them in the positions that were capable of
defence, since it was hardly probable that Jalal-ud-din would meekly
accept the transformation of Ahmed Pasha from an outpost of his own to
one of the enemy’s. Wylie must come and decide what works ought to be
constructed, and how far it was possible to overawe the defenders of
Segreti by fire from the village while their water-supply was
diverted, and Maurice foresaw that he would probably wish to take up
his quarters at Ahmed Pasha for the present, if the village was to be
held. Maurice himself inclined to the belief that it would be wiser to
withdraw from it, but Prince Romanos could not bear to think of
surrending the fruits of his victory, and they argued the matter as
they went back towards Karakula. As they approached the village, Wylie
met them, and turned the current of their thoughts.
“There’s a boat coming in with a flag of truce--a steam-pinnace from
the fleet,” he said. “It’s a good thing you are both on the spot. I
have got together a guard for you.”
They walked down towards the shore and watched the boat approach. An
officer in commander’s uniform and a dragoman disembarked and picked
their way across the rocks, with some loss of dignity, followed by six
fully-armed seamen.
“Can hardly be an offer of terms,” said Wylie. “The boat has her gun
trained on us, too.”
Arrived on level ground, the commander paused, evidently waiting to be
addressed. Maurice advanced. “You are the bearer of a communication
from the Admirals, sir?” he asked.
“I am, sir,” snapped the officer, whose temper had clearly suffered
from the method of landing. “I am to inquire whether you think the
Powers have sent their fleets here to enable you and your followers to
behave with impunity as savages?”
“I know of nothing that could lead you to imagine that we thought so,”
replied Maurice.
“Not your achievement of last night? But perhaps you are not aware
that one witness escaped your infamous massacre?”
“I know of no massacre. If you are alluding to the capture of Ahmed
Pasha, I believe we have as much right to take villages from the
Roumis as they have to try and take ours.”
“But not to refuse quarter when it is asked for, and to murder sick
men in cold blood. The Admirals give you fair warning that upon the
first repetition of such barbarities, they will bombard Skandalo and
all your coast villages, and sink every craft on the coast. Also----”
“Wait, if you please,” said Maurice. “The Admirals are condemning us
unheard. I am willing to give every facility for an inquiry. This is
the first I have heard of these outrages, and I can only hope it is
not true.”
“Ask your people and see if they will deny it!” cried the ambassador.
“If you choose to associate yourself with such a crew, you must take
the responsibility for their peculiar views of fighting. In future you
will be good enough to understand that the Powers will permit no
further aggressions on Roumi territory, and will interfere if they are
attempted.”
“Are we to understand that the Powers will also prohibit any Roumi
aggression on our territory?”
“No, sir, you are not to understand anything of the kind. The Powers
are about tired of your impudence in calling the peninsula yours, and
it will give them great pleasure to see the rightful owners in
possession of it again.” This time the dragoman was the speaker,
somewhat to the disgust of his companion, who gave him a withering
look, but he was not to be silenced. “We have warned you, and if you
continue to resist, we shall see your blood upon your own heads!” he
cried.
“I presume that I may report to the Admirals that I delivered my
message to Prince Theophanis in person?” said the naval man.
“You may, sir, and also that I protested against their saddling me
with crimes of which I had not the smallest knowledge. The matter
shall be looked into.”
The parties separated with bows and mutual ill-humour, the sailors
ostentatiously taking turns to cover the retreat of the ambassadors
for fear of treachery.
“Then the man did escape!” said Prince Romanos thoughtfully.
Maurice turned on him. “Then there was an organised attempt to leave
no witnesses, and you connived at it?”
“We never give quarter to Roumis,” was the frank reply. “It is not our
custom, and never has been, and if you had been born in Eastern
Europe, Prince, you would understand why. They give none to us. About
the sick men I don’t understand; they must have fired at us, for all
the men I saw killed were armed.”
“And the killing of the wounded--you saw that?”
“No; I told the men to make all safe, while I secured the flag. When I
came down from the roof they told me they were afraid one man had
escaped, and we searched everywhere, but could not find him.”
“Then the wounded were killed?” said Maurice.
“Of course. But it was not as if their wounds were slight,” said
Prince Romanos eagerly. “They would have died in any case.”