“You can’t go,” he said, stopping the taller of the two. “The Princess knows she is not to take a maid.”
“She is not taking me, but I am going,” said Zoe’s voice. Wylie still barred the path.
“No, you’re not. There’s no horse for you.”
Zoe laughed. “You mustn’t rate our intelligence quite so low. Eirene knew I should come, and asked Lord Armitage to get a horse for me. I think myself you are making a mistake in not letting us take my good Linton, who has gone through all sorts of horrors with me without turning a hair, but she will be ready to join us with supplies whenever I wire to her.”
“But you can’t go. It’s quite impossible. It’s—it’s useless. The Princess goes to assert her rights, and she has her husband to protect her, but you have no one to look after you.” Wylie was growing desperate.
“I am very much obliged to you,” said Zoe, with meaning in her voice. “Still, I can assure you that if both you and Lord Armitage turn your backs on me, I am quite capable of looking after myself.”
“Oh, look here, Princess,” he said, in a tone that startled Zoe, so long was it since she had heard it, “don’t bring the whole thing to smash, I beg of you. You stay behind, like a—like a sensible woman, and persuade your sister to stay too. You forget that your brother and I know something already about dragging ladies through the wilds of Emathia, and we don’t want to try it again. And to take women and children when there’s a prospect of fighting Roumis—it’s unthinkable, simply sickening folly. Now you will go back?”
His earnestness was quite pathetic, but Zoe hardened her heart. “If you ask me as a friend, I will,” she said.
Wylie recollected himself. “No, I won’t—ma’am,” he said angrily.
“Then I won’t go back,” said Zoe.
CHAPTER VII.
THE ENEMY IN THE WAY.
It was a silent company that rode through the night from Bashi Konak towards the Roumi frontier. Zoe and Eirene were presumably triumphant, but they were also in disgrace, and they were made to feel it. One of the men, either Wylie or Armitage, rode first, to see that the way was clear, then came the two culprits, left severely to themselves, then Maurice and the other man, conversing occasionally in low murmurs which were quite inaudible to the pair in front. Maurice had refused curtly Eirene’s demand to take little Constantine with her on her horse, and she had yielded the point without remonstrance, somewhat to the surprise and much to the relief of the rest. If the worst came to the worst, Maurice had one weapon the mere mention of which would bring her to her knees in terror, and she knew it. Her threat of leaving him could have been rendered nugatory in a moment by the counter-threat of depriving her of her boy, and she was afraid to push her husband too far, since he had a way of quietly assuming the command when she was in full tide of advance, which she found extremely disconcerting. She had no voice now in the conduct of the expedition, nor did she expect it, and both she and Zoe would have fallen from their horses with fatigue sooner than confess how tired they were getting as the night wore on. It was a welcome surprise when, just as the first faint light of dawn enabled them to see a cluster of white-walled houses in front, Armitage, who had ridden ahead, came back to them.
“We halt here for an hour or two, ma’am,” he said. “This is the customs station, and there is a fairly clean inn just over the frontier. I fancy there is a storm coming on, but we shall be in shelter.”
The customs examination was shortened and simplified by the judicious use of arguments which the Roumi officials could understand, and Zoe fancied that a discussion of the same kind was going on with the man in charge of the telegraph-office on the Dardanian side of the frontier. Something was said as to the telegraph-poles having been destroyed in the storm, which appeared premature, since the storm had not begun, and the poles looked particularly firm and strong, and it was clear that an attempt was to be made to cover the trail of the fugitives. Zoe smiled, with a recollection of past experiences of the kind, and betook herself thankfully to the inn, where Eirene was bestowing little Constantine in a perfect nest of rugs. The woman of the house brought them coffee, and they were soon asleep.
Outside the inn, Maurice and Wylie were stamping about, shivering, while Armitage interviewed the landlord, whose acquaintance he had made in the course of former journeys to Pentikosti. Presently he appeared.
“He says he is quite certain no one has passed, sir,” he said.
“Then he must still be behind us,” said Maurice. “I should have thought he would catch us up long ago. He ought to travel faster than we do.”
“Had a fall, perhaps,” suggested Wylie. “He doesn’t look as if he had much of a seat. If you and Armitage will rest in the house, sir, I’ll go to the top of the road and watch for him, and call you when I see him.”
“No, you will be getting fever,” said Maurice. “Armitage will watch. We can’t afford to run risks with you.”
Armitage laughed cheerfully as he climbed the road again, while the other two men made themselves as comfortable as possible on the uneasy divan of the inn. They had had time to fall asleep and wake with a start more than once before they heard him outside.
“I can see him in the distance!” he said breathlessly. “He is riding hard, and has only one man with him.”
They hurried out, and up the ridge. In the growing light the two straining figures below were clearly visible. Wylie scanned them closely.
“The servant has the luggage,” he said. “That’s all right. He’ll stay behind at the customs, while Christodoridi comes on here to see if his fresh horses are ready. He’ll want them.”
“Couldn’t ask for a better place than this for stopping him,” said Maurice. “I only hope he won’t make a fool of himself and take to shooting.”
“Two can play at that game,” said Wylie grimly, and they waited. It seemed a long time before the feet of a struggling horse were heard on the rocky road, and Romanos Christodoridi came in sight over the ridge.
“Might have walked that last bit,” growled Wylie in disgust, as the rider pulled up in surprise at the sight of the three men confronting him.
“Will you be good enough to dismount and step aside with us, Prince?” said Maurice. “There is a point I should be glad to settle with you before we join the ladies at the inn.”
“None of that!” said Wylie sharply, arresting the Greek’s arm as he raised his whip. It had a loaded handle, and his evident intention was to bring it down on Maurice’s head, and dash forward in the confusion. “Will you get off or be pulled off?”
“I bow to superior force,” said Prince Romanos, with an angry flush on his sallow cheek. “I suppose it did not strike you, Mr Teffany, that it would have been more in order if you had brought one of my friends here, instead of two of your own?”
“We are not going to fight a duel,” said Maurice.
“No? Only to murder me?” He threw his horse’s bridle to Wylie and dismounted. “You have chosen your ground well. It seems that I should have done better, after all, to listen to the warning of your tool, but you will admit that her method of detaining me was open to misconstruction.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Maurice. “Who tried to detain you? Who’s the tool? We have been expecting you for hours.”
Prince Romanos looked virtuously indignant. “Your ways are too deep for me, Mr Teffany. I am tricked, by means of my tenderest affections, into an interview which I discover is intended to prevent me from starting as I had intended. On that discovery I tear myself away—practically by force—ride headlong all night, and find you in ambush awaiting me. Proceed, sir; I confess you have succeeded in catching me unawares, but you need not hope to gain anything by this treachery.”
“Once for all,” said Maurice, “there has been no treachery—on our part, at any rate. We made no attempt to detain you.”
Prince Romanos bowed, obviously unconvinced. “The attempt was made, and it was clearly to your interest that it should succeed,” he said. “However, this argument is unprofitable. You are three to one; pray do your business.”
“You seem to have treachery on the brain,” said Maurice. “There is no question of violence of any kind. I asked you to come here that I might make a certain proposal to you.”
“Which you intend to compel me to accept? Continue, pray.”
“You are on your way to Emathia to throw in your lot with the insurgents; so are we. I imagine that, like myself, you are moved by the wretched condition of the country. If it had been properly governed, and the people contented, your claim, like mine, would have remained in abeyance. Therefore neither of us is fighting for his own hand, but in the hope of delivering Emathia. Do you agree?”
“Sir,” said Prince Romanos, “your sentiments are most admirable, and I—admire them.”
“Then,” said Maurice, rather impatiently, “what I propose is that for the present you and I should lay aside our opposing claims, and fight shoulder to shoulder. Since we are both in reality working for the good of Emathia, don’t let the mere look of things divide us. You know as well as I do that nothing would delight Scythia and Pannonia more than to see the friends of freedom fighting among themselves, so that they might point out how impossible it was to entrust them with the government. But if by sinking our differences we can keep our followers from quarrelling, we shall have gone a long way towards proving the fitness of the Emathians for liberty.”
“And for the rule of Prince Maurice the First? Really, Mr Teffany, I can hardly take it as a compliment that you appear to expect me to welcome this proposal.”
“You have not heard me to the end. I was going to suggest that when the Roumis are driven out, and peace achieved, we should submit our claims to the decision of the Emathian people, and abide by the result.”
Armitage and Wylie were scarcely less astonished this time than Prince Romanos, who was obviously thunder-struck. “I have offered to submit my claim to the arbitration of the Œcumenical Patriarch,” he said at last.
“And I have refused,” said Maurice shortly. “The only arbitration I will accept is that of a referendum or a plébiscite—whatever you like to call it—an appeal to the people most concerned.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I shall be under the painful necessity of asking Lord Armitage to keep you in safe custody on board his yacht. Now that there is at last a chance of freeing Emathia, it shall not be sacrificed to personal jealousies.”
“Then this is compulsion, after all?”
“Oh no. You shall be released in time to submit your claim to the Emathians. But it seems to me that what I have suggested gives you a better chance.”
“I have done you an injustice, Mr Teffany. Your methods are not so simple as I imagined.”
“I think it would be as well if you left off calling me Mr Teffany. To you, as to others, I am Prince Theophanis, if you please.”
“Ah, you would trick me into acknowledging your title?”
“Not at all. It is a mere matter of courtesy. I have made no attempt to deprive you of your rank.”
“Sir, my rank cannot be touched by you. My ancestors were Patricians of Venice.”
“Sir, mine were Emperors of the East. But this is all nonsense!” Maurice broke off impatiently. “The question at issue is your present conduct, not your ancestors’ nobility. I offer you a free hand, and as good a chance as my own of establishing your claim, on the sole condition that while we are in the field with the insurgents you make no attempt to raise a party against me, or to divide our forces. In fact, it is to be as if we were twin brothers, and there was a doubt which was the elder. We are to fight for our common heritage, and not for our own hand.”
Prince Romanos seemed to find some difficulty in answering. He walked two or three steps backwards and forwards, closely watched by Wylie, whose hand was in his pocket. Then he faced Maurice again.
“I am at a loss,” he said frankly. “My whole nature rises up against the compulsion you wish to exercise over me, Prince, and yet I find something noble in your theory. But you make a large demand in asking that I should place myself voluntarily in subordination to you.”
“I ask nothing of the kind. If the Emathians are wise, they will elect Colonel Wylie to supreme command, and I shall want nothing better than to serve under him. If they are not—why, I suppose we shall all command guerilla bands, and do the best we can with them.”
“And you are willing to swear that you will honourably withdraw from the contest if, when the fighting is over, the Emathians elect me?”
“I give you my word here and now, but I will swear if you like.”
“And if—if you should not see the end of the fighting?”
“If anything happens to me, you will have a walk-over, for neither the Powers nor the Emathians are likely to put a woman and a child upon the throne.”
“But you had better be very careful not to have anything to do with that happening,” broke in Wylie; “or you will not see the end of the fighting either.”
“These insinuations are highly offensive, Prince,” said the Greek, as Maurice turned angrily upon his follower.
“I simply stated a fact, sir,” said Wylie, in answer to the look. “If you choose to invite people to murder you, it is only fair they should know that you don’t stand alone.”
“And Prince Romanos accused you of wishing to murder him a few minutes ago, sir,” said Armitage. The Greek laughed.
“It seems we are quits, then. There is as much, or as little, intention to murder on one side as on the other. Prince Theophanis, I accept your terms, subject to a solemn ratification over the holy relics at Hagiamavra. But I should like to ask your sister a question before I throw in my lot with you. I cannot yet forget the way in which I was deceived last night.”
“I hope you don’t imply——” said Maurice quickly.
“I imply nothing, Prince. The simple word of my confrère Zeto will at once drive all doubt from my mind.”
Nothing more was to be got from him, and they walked down to the inn, where the servant who had accompanied Prince Romanos was awaiting him in considerable perplexity. Maurice sent the woman of the house to fetch Zoe, who came out presently, sleepy and dishevelled. Prince Romanos waved the three Englishmen out of earshot.
“If you are asked what my question was, Princess, you may say that I inquired your motive in laying that trap for me last night,” he said. “But I do not ask, for I know that the chance of furthering your brother’s schemes and at the same time punishing a faithless suitor must have been irresistible. What I want to know——”
“But I never laid a trap for you!” cried Zoe indignantly. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He waved his hand indulgently. “We all disown our agents when they fail,” he said. “It is my misfortune that I have incurred—and doubtless deserved—the enmity of various ladies, and yours is not the first plot laid against me. But I recognise the difference. Zeto would draw the line between political extinction and murder. I put my life in your hands, Princess. Am I safe”—he spoke low and confidentially—“in accepting your brother’s proposal and throwing in my lot with him and his friends? I distrust the man with blue eyes.”
The extraordinary mixture of coxcombry, confidence, and suspicion in the man’s speech filled Zoe with mingled amusement and disgust. “You will be as safe from us as you would be on your own island—I am sorry to say!” she cried, with flaming eyes.
“Prince,” said Prince Romanos gravely, turning to Maurice, “your sister has reassured me with regard to the trap laid for me last night. I was already convinced, but I desired the formality of her assurance. Now I am yours. You may regard me from henceforth as your most trusted colleague.”
“I am glad to hear it,” said Maurice with all seriousness. “Eirene,” turning to his wife, who had appeared in the doorway, “Prince Romanos Christodoridi and I have agreed to lay aside our differences, and fight only for the deliverance of Emathia. When that is accomplished, we shall invite the Emathians to choose between us, and elect as prince the one whom they consider best qualified.”
“Maurice! You have sacrificed——” began Eirene, but she broke off and went indoors, closing her lips tightly. Zoe found her presently walking up and down the narrow inner room where her boy was still sleeping, with her hands clenched and her head thrown back.
“I might have known!” she cried. “Maurice always manages to defeat me somehow. I ought to have taken Constantine and come away by myself, without warning him,—it is the only way. He would have been so anxious about us that he would have been willing to do anything. To surrender without being forced to it! To submit our sacred rights to the choice of the people!”
“I suppose he thinks that it will be better for the Emathians if they can agree upon a ruler rather than have one forced upon them,” said Zoe.
“The Emathians! what do they signify? It is a matter of right, of my boy’s rights! But I have not sworn. I am not bound, and nothing shall ever make me submit to this iniquitous arrangement.”
Remonstrance was useless, and Zoe, with a vivid memory of old times, held her tongue. They continued their journey after a hasty meal, Prince Romanos and his servant being added to the party. The two were born mountaineers, and their experience proved most useful in getting the horses over the precipitous tracks which here, in Roumi territory, represented the good Dardanian roads. A guide, secured by Armitage, took charge of them from the inn to Pentikosti, and explained matters to various truculent-looking groups of highlanders, who appeared at awkward points and seemed quite capable of making themselves unpleasant. Thus, though exciting enough, the journey stopped short of providing actual adventure, and in the evening they rode down into Pentikosti, and found Armitage’s yacht, with her fires banked, awaiting them in the rude little harbour. A further distribution of palm-oil among the Roumi notables who came to do honour to Armitage secured a promise that in the minds of these worthy men the arrival of the strangers should be as though it had not been, and before nightfall the yacht had taken her passengers on board and was steaming down the coast.
The next morning the passengers presented rather a curious appearance, for Armitage, after a talk with his captain, had ransacked his yachting wardrobe and practically forced the other men to don his clothes. Prince Romanos looked like a masquerading pirate, and Wylie, so the rest told him, like a horse-marine; but the incongruity of riding-clothes on shipboard was sufficiently obvious, even without Armitage’s evident anxiety. Zoe and Eirene, entreated with becoming diffidence to make themselves look as “frilly” as they could, complied as far as the severe limitations of their campaigning luggage would allow, and wondered what was the use of trying to deceive the crew, who must know when and where, and probably also why, they had really come on board.
It was not until after two days and nights of continuous steaming that the true reason for the precaution became apparent. The yacht’s head was turned northwards again, and Armitage was up and down and everywhere, in a perfect fever of excitement, driving Captain Waters, whose attention was sufficiently demanded by the intricacy of the navigation, to the verge of frenzy. Suddenly he calmed down, and appeared among the rest with a look of pale determination, for which there seemed no particular reason.
“Man-of-war going to board us,” he explained to the ladies. “Just go on with what you are doing, please, as if there was nothing the matter. Don’t be frightened.”
“Why should we be frightened?” asked Zoe, astonished, but Eirene’s eyes were anxious. Together they moved to the rail, where Wylie was holding up little Constantine to look at the low, thick, two-funnelled vessel which was rushing swiftly towards them. The child shrieked with delight as the destroyer circled round and came to a halt, while a boat put off from its grey side. A pleasant English-speaking officer mounted the yacht’s ladder, and looked in astonishment at the group before him. He made himself very agreeable to Mrs and Miss Smith, the ladies to whom he was presented, and asked the necessary inquisitorial questions as politely as possible, accepting as altogether natural the avowed intention of Armitage to run into Therma and see what was really going on there. But he had a word to add as he took his leave.
“I see you have zat Apolis on board,” he said to Armitage. “You know he is incendiary, revolutionist? I have heard him talk in Paris.”
“He doesn’t talk in that way here,” said Armitage. “Perhaps he knows better.”
The officer shrugged his shoulders. “He is dangerous man. Why is he here, if not to join those fools of insurgents on the mainland?”
“I really can’t tell you,—unless because I asked him.”
“I sink I should do my duty in arresting him.”
“I think not. On board a British ship, in the waters of another nation? Hardly.”
“We are on patrol duty here.”
“But no blockade has been declared. No, really, I couldn’t allow it.” The officer looked from the boyish speaker and the dainty yacht to the frowning dark vessel a little way off, and smiled, only just perceptibly. “But look here,” Armitage went on, “I can’t answer for what’s in his mind, but I can promise that he shan’t go on shore unless I do. How’s that?”
“Zat is ol-right, if you will remember ze ladies, and not run into peril. You listen my advice, and make your cruise in less troubled waters, is it not so? But no, where zere is disturbance, zere also is a mad Englishman and his yacht. Well, beware of ze Roumis.”
“Thanks. We certainly will,” said Armitage.
“This is not the first time we have been thankful to adopt the aristocratic and high-sounding name of Smith,” said Zoe to Wylie, as they watched the friendly foreigner returning to his own vessel.
“Our trip would certainly have ended here if that fellow had guessed who you really were,” he replied. “It’s not going to be all smooth sailing, you see. Haven’t you done enough for honour now? Why not let us put into Korona and land you?”
“Because—you don’t seem to have seen it, but I did—if we had not been on board, the officer would have turned the yacht back, and your trip would have ended too. We are not altogether useless, you perceive!”
CHAPTER VIII.
A PORT OF REFUGE.
“That was a narrow squeak this morning,” said Armitage to Maurice, as they stood watching for the first sight of the heights of Hagiamavra in the evening.
“Why particularly? That fellow had no authority to turn us back, as there isn’t a blockade, and we could probably have dodged him in the night if he had tried it.”
“It’s not that. It’s what we have on board. If he had insisted on searching us!”
“Why, are you gun-running?” asked Maurice in surprise.
Armitage was surprised too. “Well, rifles and cartridges and a couple of machine-guns are rather an unusual cargo for a yacht, aren’t they?”
Maurice understood. “Ah, another of my wife’s little speculations?” he said, trying to keep out of his voice the bitterness he felt.
“Yes, and that’s given us an idea for getting them on shore. I’ve been talking it over with Waters, who’s an awfully knowing chap, and he told me the same thing had been puzzling him. You see, the risk is not all over when we have them and ourselves landed at Skandalo. Your precious subjects-that-are-to-be are quite capable of annexing the arms and kicking you out. What you want is to secure a defensive position in the middle of them before they realise what you’ve got. Wylie quite agrees with me.”
“The prospect is certainly a pleasant one,” said Maurice indifferently. Few people realised—his wife least of all—the disgust with which he was filled by the necessity of constantly putting himself forward, of forcing his claims upon an unwilling, or at best uninterested, people.
“The place for you is the Hagiamavra Monastery,” went on Armitage eagerly,—“in the heart of the insurgents’ position, defensible against any unsupported rush. It’s a good way from the sea, that’s the worst of it, and the paths through the hills are simply beastly; but once up there, there you are. If you stayed down at Skandalo, you’d always be exposed to attack from the sea, either a bombardment or a Roumi landing. At the monastery—well, I suppose the Dreadnought’s guns could touch you, but nothing else that floats, and no Roumi force is likely to be able to force its way up in the face of opposition.”
“And what about provisions?”
“I can leave you a fair store, and then I’ll go off and forage. I think I can do better for you in that way than if I landed with part of the crew to help in the fighting. They were not engaged for war-service, you see, but anything like running a blockade will delight them.”
“I see.” Maurice saw more than Armitage intended, and guessed why he had given up his former plan of attaching himself through thick and thin to the party that included Zoe, but he did not say so. “I suppose you realise that you’re more than likely to lose the yacht?” he asked.
“Meaning that the Powers will sink her? Let ’em. She may as well leave her bones here as at the North Pole, though I hope she won’t do it till you’re well supplied. But about these guns and things. Waters has hit on an awfully neat dodge, and made use of it to keep the men from getting rusty while he was hanging about off Pentikosti. He has had canvas covers made for all the cases, with red braid on them—like the things you see old ladies with on their travels, you know—and initials stencilled on the tops,—most swagger luggage you ever saw. He’ll pad them up a little with waste, to disguise the shape and the sharp corners, and we’ll get them landed and up to the monastery as the ladies’ boxes.”
“Awfully neat!” said Maurice, laughing in spite of himself. “But what about the weight? And the case of a machine-gun must be a fair size, I should imagine.”
“Oh, don’t you know those things as big as a house, that some women lug about their ball-dresses in—all standing, so to speak? It can’t be bigger than that. And as to the weight—oh, we’ll stuff the insurgents about Byzantine robes, stiff with gold and jewels, and all that sort of thing, you know. They’ll take it as an awful compliment that the Princesses should have come prepared to hold a court.”
Maurice was hardly convinced, but Armitage was so fully persuaded of the feasibility of his plan that he offered no further objection. The yacht anchored off Skandalo that night, jealously scrutinised by fishing-boats, which drifted out of the darkness into the circle of her lights, asked a question or two, and faded into nothingness again, and with earliest daylight Armitage and Captain Waters went on shore to make judicious inquiries, lest the Roumis might, with unwonted energy, have occupied the little town. When they came off again, they brought with them one of the insurgent leaders, no other than Dr Afanasi Terminoff, who was exercising authority at Skandalo in the name of the Emathian Revolutionary Committee, the Roumi inhabitants having wisely effaced themselves on the invasion of the peninsula by a mixed multitude of patriots and refugees from Therma. It appeared that Professor Panagiotis had, as Armitage said, played up nobly. He had not been informed of the flight from Bashi Konak save by a note left to be delivered to him on the following morning, but on receiving it he had promptly waited upon the Prince of Dardania to inform him that Prince Theophanis and all his party had been laid low in the night with influenza, and would be unable to leave their rooms for some days. At the same time he had communicated with the insurgent headquarters,—by the historic method of fire-signals, Zoe suggested, but more probably by mere prosaic messages carried overland by returning delegates. The really ardent among these men had been stealing away from Bashi Konak one by one since the first news of the massacres at Therma, more anxious to take part in any fighting there might be than to consume additional time in theoretical negotiations, and their news travelled before them in some mysterious way.
The arrival of Prince Theophanis was expected, and Dr Terminoff had had time to prepare information and advice, with both of which he was overflowing. The state of things was not altogether propitious. The Hagiamavra peninsula was now affording standing-ground—accommodation it could hardly be called—for quite three times its ordinary population, even allowing for the expatriated Moslems. A certain proportion of the newcomers consisted of stalwart members of revolutionary bands from all parts of Emathia, who had obeyed the summons to concentrate for a great struggle, but the rest were a heterogeneous mob from Therma, among them a large number of men whose enthusiasm for freedom was of a wildly anarchistic character. These refugees were not amenable even to such limited authority as was possessed by the captains of bands over their followers, and led by any plausible talker among themselves who could gain their ear, they raided the houses and farms of the inhabitants in search of provisions, establishing a worse than Roumi tyranny in the peninsula. Some central authority, with sufficient power at its command to enforce its orders, was urgently needed, and it was equally necessary to devise some means of feeding not only the fighting men, but the troops of helpless women and children who had sought safety with them. Maurice and Wylie, as they listened, perceived that the task before them was much larger than they had anticipated, since it had not occurred to their minds that they would be called upon to combine the functions of a relief agency with those of a military dictatorship. To do this from a precarious foothold on the coast was obviously impossible, but Dr Terminoff was as anxious as Armitage to establish the whole party safely at the monastery. Besides the predatory hordes from Therma, who were spread over the lower hills immediately behind the town, there were the insurgent bands, hardly less truculent though better disciplined, occupying the heights in the interior, and only too likely to welcome an opportunity of returning to their wonted avocation of brigandage. Moreover, since the delegates who had accepted Maurice’s leadership at Bashi Konak had not had time to explain their action to their supporters, a strong republican spirit was prevalent, and might manifest itself in disagreeable ways.
In the face of a complicated emergency of this kind, Maurice was at his best. Prompt action was urgently necessary, not only in order to circumvent possible objectors, but that the yacht might unload her cargo and depart before the news of her presence could be carried to any of the European warships in these waters. Dr Terminoff was sent on shore again to requisition every available mule for the transport of the party and their “luggage,” and summon as many members of his own band as could be readily assembled to act as escort. Wylie accompanied him, with the idea of gaining an insight into the conditions prevailing on shore; while the important cases were being got up from the hold and enclosed in their innocent-seeming wrappers, and Armitage and his stewards despoiled the cabins of mattresses, cushions, carpets, and whatever else could add to the comfort of the ladies. Captain Waters proved himself a tower of strength when it came to improvising means of getting the cases transferred from the deck along the ruined stone pier which showed that Skandalo had once known more prosperous days, and Wylie, as transport officer without subordinates, exhibited a knowledge of the idiosyncrasies of the Hagiamavran mule, and the best way of combating them, which was clearly the fruit of long and bitter experience in like circumstances. By the captain’s advice, the load was reduced by breaking open one case of rifles and one of cartridges, and distributing the contents among fifteen men of the yacht’s crew, who were to act as an additional escort under command of Armitage. By dint of herculean efforts, all the packs were adjusted by noon, Zoe and Eirene were mounted on improvised saddles on the quietest mules, Wylie appointed the bodyguard their stations, and the long line trickled through the narrow streets of the little town and up the hills behind.
A curious throng watched them from roofs and alleys, with much speculation, but with a notable and natural absence of enthusiasm. The inhabitants of the peninsula could hardly be expected to welcome the choice of their neighbourhood as the theatre of great events, however proud they might be in the distant future that it had been the scene of the freeing of Emathia. These newcomers looked as if they might be more profitable guests than the Therma refugees, but the fact that they were seeking quarters at once in the mountains, instead of demanding the best accommodation the town could produce, showed that there was something not quite right about them, and the haggard man with the blue eyes who regulated their march looked capable of making himself very unpleasant to honest people who only wished to lead a quiet life and decorate the caps of their daughters with as fine a show of piastres as possible.
The many-coloured crowd and the white houses once left behind, the track led up the hillside, covered with short grass, where the sweet-scented shrubs which should have clothed it had been rooted up for fuel. At the top of the ridge Zoe turned to take a last look at the yacht, the one remaining link with civilisation, but she was speedily taught that this was no moment for the indulgence of sentiment. In the hollow below the ridge a number of the Therma refugees were encamped, in holes grubbed out of the hillside or in wretched shelters made with blankets, and when the strangers came in sight there was a rush of ragged, half-starved creatures clamouring with piteous voices and outstretched hands. Mothers held up their wizened babies, old men exhibited roughly bandaged wounds, but even more terrible was the sight of those who had lost either the desire or the power to beg, and sat stolid in the apathy of helplessness. Eirene and Zoe emptied their purses and the lunch-basket, and entreated that the provisions which were being carried up to the monastery might be distributed here instead, but Wylie was adamant. The able-bodied men belonging to this party of refugees had been set to work improving the pier by Dr Terminoff, and would earn enough to keep their dependants for a day or two. After that he hoped it would be possible to make organised arrangements for relief, but it would be mere foolishness to sacrifice, on an impulse of pity, what might be of inestimable value to the Emathian cause in the future. Zoe relieved her feelings by abusing his hardness to Eirene as she rode on, but Eirene did not answer. Holding her boy closely to her, she was haunted, as with a foreboding of evil, by the thought that this misery was, in part at least, due to her ambition for him.
The uplands beyond the hollow were almost solitary, save for an occasional goatherd. Once Wylie left the rest to examine a deserted village, which had been inhabited hitherto, it seemed, by the vanished Moslems. Now the houses were roofless, the gardens destroyed, and the fruit-trees cut down, so that the hope he had entertained of settling some of the refugees there could not be fulfilled at present. He and Maurice were continually in converse on the many questions pressing for immediate solution, calling up now Armitage and now Dr Terminoff for consultation, and leaving to Prince Romanos the duty of attending on the ladies, which he performed with a very good grace.
“I am no student of social problems, I confess it,” he said airily. “I came here to fight, and fight I will as long as I can hold a sword, but place me face to face with that crowd of miserable objects back there, and what can I do but empty my purse and hurry away, covering ears and eyes?”
“But if you were responsible for them as their prince?” suggested Zoe.
He shrugged his shoulders. “My heart would perhaps grow harder, Princess. Certainly my purse would soon be exhausted. I fear I should take refuge in the philosophy of our Roumi friends, and find comfort in repeating that all was Kismet.”
“That would be very consoling to your poor people,” said Zoe.
He accepted the rebuke with surprising meekness. “Indeed, Princess, in my view the ideal government for Emathia would be a triumvirate composed of your brother, Colonel Wylie, and myself; but how could I say so publicly without seeming to undervalue my rights?”
“You to do the ornamental part, Maurice the practical, and Colonel Wylie the military and police?” said Zoe cruelly. “It would save Maurice a good deal of trouble—but then, you see, we don’t allow that you have any rights at all.”
“Naturally, Princess,” was all he could be induced to say, with his usual shrug.
The character of the scenery was now changing, the grassy downs being left behind for wilder and loftier hills. Sometimes a glimpse could be caught of the monastery itself, far above and beyond, like the Celestial City in old illustrations to the ‘Pilgrim’s Progress,’ its tiled roofs clinging to the sides of a great rift in the rock, and then again it would be hidden by the intervening crags. This broken country was the chosen haunt of the bands from the mainland, whom it reminded of their own hills, and challenges rang from the rocky heights, to be answered with anxious explanations by Dr Terminoff, who did all he could to magnify the importance of the new recruits to the cause without revealing either their identity or the nature of the contribution they brought for the war-chest. His guarded answers excited much interest, and a gradually increasing crowd of insurgents attached itself to the travellers, betraying an unconcealed desire to know the contents of the luggage, which seemed so much heavier than it looked. This was the moment Wylie had feared, and the sailors and Dr Terminoff’s men were placed as a screen at the head and tail of the cavalcade. The sides could not be protected, nor was it indeed necessary, since the path was only wide enough for a mule and its driver. “It’s a blessing they haven’t had time to arrange an ambuscade with stones, or they would have cut the column in two,” said Wylie; “but I think we have taken them by surprise.”
As the long procession approached the monastery, an obvious excitement began to make itself felt among the hangers-on, a certain number of whom detached themselves and ran on to the gate, where they demanded entrance with much banging and many shouts. No response, however, came from within, and the self-appointed couriers rushed back with fervid zeal to complain that the never-to-be-sufficiently-execrated Patriarchist monks refused admission to the noble English visitors. With generous indignation the surrounding mob demanded that Wylie should lead them to force an entrance, and it was clear that between the monks and the mainlanders there existed a grudge as old as the latter’s first encampment on the hills ten days ago, when they had been excluded, as schismatics, from the sacred precincts. Such a revival of the feud between the Greek and Slav elements of Emathian society promised badly for the success of Maurice’s mission of unity, and he and Armitage went forward to call a parley, while Wylie prepared for action if necessary. For some time the frowning front of the monastery appeared utterly unresponsive to all the knocking and shouting that besieged it, but at length a high black cap and a venerable beard appeared on the top of the gateway, and a conversation ensued. Presently Maurice came back and summoned Wylie.
“They won’t let us in, because the Roumi Government has always treated them fairly well, and they are afraid what may happen when we come to smash,” he said.
“They must let us in,” said Wylie. “Otherwise we shall come to smash in less than ten minutes. We must break the gate down.”
“Then our Emathian friends will simply swarm in and loot the place. We shall be as badly off for accommodation as ever, and have to bear the everlasting stigma of having plundered an Orthodox monastery.”
“Oh, we must fake it somehow. Tell your venerable friend that we will save his face by technically forcing an entrance. Fifteen sailors with rifles which half of them can’t use look imposing enough to justify any man of peace in opening his door to them if they threaten to fire. Of course you will add that if this is not inducement enough we will let the Emathians loose on them, and then they need have no further anxiety about the Roumis.”
“All right. Get the mules as close up to the gate as possible, and let the sailors be ready to turn their rifles against the Emathians once it’s opened.”
“Your brother’s welcome from his subjects is even embarrassing in its warmth,” remarked Prince Romanos to Zoe, with a fine air of detachment.
“Oh, the monastery has seen many leaders of revolts,” replied Zoe airily. “How should the poor old monks know that Maurice is the leader of a revolution?”
“Ladies nearest the gate,” said Wylie’s voice. “Cartridges and machine-guns next, then the rifles. Terminoff, are your men to be trusted if one or two of them get inside?”
“If your sailors are there too,” was the not very encouraging reply.
Maurice turned and waved his hand. The sailors, instructed by Wylie in a stage whisper how to hold their rifles, were summoned to the front, and produced an awe-inspiring click at the word of command. Very slowly and heavily one of the gates creaked open, leaving just room for the passage of one mule at a time. At a word from Wylie, Prince Romanos took the bridle of Eirene’s mule and led it in, and Zoe’s followed, while the sailors turned to face the crowd instead of the gate. One by one the mules were dragged in, Maurice and Prince Romanos opening the second leaf of the door by main force to allow of the entrance of the cases, while Armitage and Wylie, last of all, facing outwards, kept back the mob that surged behind. The last and most obstreperous mule disappeared with a final flourish of heels, the double row of sailors on either side of the gate drew together and vanished two by two, and Wylie and Armitage retreated slowly backwards, each with a hand in his pocket, the crowd pressing round, but leaving a clear space in front of them. Armitage tripped over the threshold, but was dragged in, head first, by Maurice, and the sailors closed half the door while Wylie stood on guard. Then he also slipped within, and the remaining leaf was slammed and barred, while a howl of disappointment went up from the mob outside. Wylie smiled ironically.
“Before I do anything else,” he said, “I’ll put those machine-guns together, and mount one on the top of the gate, and the other just here to command it. They seem needed to save us from our friends.”
CHAPTER IX.
ARTS OF PEACE.
The expedition had reached port, but this was all that could be said. The quiet fore-court of the monastery was filled with kicking mules, vociferating drivers, and curious sailors, while two or three agitated monks bewailed the invasion with uplifted hands. The strangers had brought women within the sacred gates, and were further polluting the precincts with the presence of schismatics and of weapons of war. The glory of Hagiamavra had departed, for the stain could never be removed. Leaving Wylie to arrange measures of defence, Maurice set himself to soothe the feelings of the distracted hosts. A little diplomacy induced them to confess that the monastery had on one former occasion in its history given shelter to the abhorred sex, in the shape of a number of women and children from Skandalo seeking refuge on account of the visit of a Roumi fleet, but then these suppliants had asked no more than to crouch on the bare stones of the courtyard. However, in answer to a tactful question or two, the Hegoumenos, or Abbot, owned that the number of monks was now so much reduced as to occupy only the innermost cells, those which clustered round the church, in the narrowest part of the rift, thus leaving the buildings near the gateway free for the accommodation of the visitors. A promise from Maurice that the ladies would make no attempt to penetrate farther than the fore-court contributed still more to smooth matters, and the Hegoumenos volunteered to send a couple of lay brethren to sweep out the rooms and to provide firewood.
Returning to the rest, Maurice found that Wylie had got one of the guns unpacked and set up to protect the entrance, but was in doubt whether to carry out the rest of his plan and mount the other upon the gateway itself. The idea was opposed vehemently by Dr Terminoff, who urged that since the monastery had so fortunately been reached without the shedding of a drop of blood, there was every hope of coming to a happy understanding with the insurgents, but that this would be grievously imperilled by any show of distrust. At his earnest request Maurice allowed the insurgent leader to go up to the gateway and address the crowd outside, which he did with much effect. A marked and somewhat awestruck silence succeeded the din which had hitherto prevailed, and the various chiefs who were present requested Dr Terminoff to convey their assurances of friendship to the English visitors. As he descended from the gateway, the English visitors seized upon him.
“What was that you told them about Roumi troops being on their way here?” demanded Maurice.
“It is quite true. Five battalions are already embarked, we understand, and others are on the point of departure.”
“But how have you heard it up here?” cried Wylie.
“Oh, I heard it at Skandalo. A messenger from Therma—one of the men who work for Professor Panagiotis—came in this morning.”
“And why in the world didn’t you tell us at once?”
“Because I thought you would go away in your ship without landing if I did,” was the ingenuous reply.
“Oh, look here!” cried Armitage indignantly, “this is a little too much! We must get the ladies back to the yacht as soon as possible—to-night, if they are not too tired.”
“Why?” asked Maurice. “You surely didn’t think the Roumis would not send troops? We have known all along that we should probably have to face them. You can do much more good by bringing up supplies, Armitage, as we arranged.”
“But I can’t take my men away, and leave you and the ladies at the mercy of these fellows outside. The Roumis couldn’t be worse.”
“These men are Christians—patriots,” said Dr Terminoff with indignation. “In their holy war they welcome the aid of Prince Theophanis and his friends. To-morrow, in full assembly, the conditions of alliance will be settled, and the defence of the peninsula will be entrusted to the illustrious Colonel Wylie. Our patriots are brave as lions, but they know little of discipline, and just now there was no time to enter into explanations. But having heard the truth, they will freely allow the passage of the Milordo and his men.”
“I’m not afraid of that!” cried Armitage, flushing angrily. “It is that I don’t think the Prince and his family are safe.”
“Sir, you throw doubts on the patriots of Emathia?” Dr Terminoff was bristling with rage, but Wylie interposed.
“He doesn’t know them as we do, and their behaviour this afternoon has been calculated to prejudice a stranger rather unfavourably. Leave the ladies to us, Armitage, and ransack the Mediterranean for supplies and ammunition. Not rifles,—we have enough for the men who have none,—but cartridges to fit our Mausers, in packages small enough to be carried by one man. With anything like an adequate supply, we might hold that country we passed through to-day for months. You had better arrange for a further consignment to be sent out from England to meet you at some safe place, but just now you must pick up what you can get, and hurry back before the Roumis appear.”
“But they may be here to-morrow!” cried Armitage.
“Not they. Roumi troops are not kept ready for service at a moment’s notice, and transports are not to be had for nothing. The five battalions are probably in the first agonies of mobilising at this moment, and the Jews of Czarigrad are chartering all the condemned tramps they can hear of to carry them, so you will just have time to make a foraging trip and get back. And by the bye, if the Princess will let you make use of her letters of credit, bring us a good supply of small change,—any currency will do. We don’t want to have to add a mint to the other activities before us, and our New Model army will require to be paid.”
Taken aback, alike by the nature of Wylie’s calculations and their ultra-practical character, Armitage allowed himself to be dismissed with his sailors after a hasty meal. They were mounted on the Skandalo mules, and escorted in triumphal procession by the repentant insurgents outside, who were now only anxious to embrace the men for whose blood they had previously been thirsting. A code of signals had been arranged, by means of which Armitage, on sighting a precipitous headland not far from Skandalo, might know whether it was safe for the yacht to approach the land, and where she was to disembark her stores.
The accommodation provided by the monastery was not luxurious, though the steward of the yacht had done what he could to make the bare cells, hollowed out in the rock and opening in front into wooden galleries, habitable. He had been left at Hagiamavra to act as cook, since the Greek retainer of Prince Romanos, who would not make himself useful for any one but his master, was the only servant with the party. Dr Terminoff chose out six members of his band, guaranteed to be trustworthy, to serve as guards, and they camped round a fire in the fore-court. At the head of the shallow steps leading to the lowest gallery, from which all the others were approached, Wylie had built up the cases of arms into a breastwork, on which he mounted the machine-gun he had unpacked, not caring to leave it exposed to the active curiosity of the guards in the court. Thus the position was as safe as it was possible to make it, and the adventurers talked and laughed round the inadequate brazier provided for their comfort, with a determination not to let things flag which suggested inevitably a certain amount of effort. Their reception at Hagiamavra had not been quite what they expected, but they were resolved to make the best of things.
With the morning came the necessity of meeting the insurgent chiefs in full assembly, as Dr Terminoff had promised, and it was an assembly that lasted for three days. Wylie excused himself after the first morning, for the assembly appeared to be possessed of unlimited powers of talk, and to be determined to exercise them. It seemed to be the custom that every man should have the opportunity of addressing his fellows if he desired it, and there were few sufficiently merciful or retiring to waive the privilege. Hour after hour Maurice and Prince Romanos sat side by side listening to the flow of like sentiments delivered in different dialects and with varying gestures by the highlanders from the mainland, the cosmopolitan refugees from Therma, and the Greek fishermen and artisans from the coast districts. The speeches all began in the same way, with a declaration of the speaker’s theoretical preference for a republic on the American—Wylie unkindly suggested the South American—model, but nearly all of them came to the lame conclusion that in view of the dislike felt by some of the Powers for republican institutions, and the benefits certain to be conferred upon the cause by the adhesion to it of the Theophanis family, it would be well to recognise their pretensions. The returning delegates from Bashi Konak had now had time to make their influence felt, and the imminent peril of a Roumi invasion in force inclined Greek and Slav for once to lay aside their differences and agree to postpone the actual choice of a Prince until the danger was over. In the presence of the assembly, Maurice swore on the head of his little son, and Prince Romanos on the sacred relics, brought with great pomp and precaution from the monastery, to fight side by side as brothers-in-arms, and submit their respective claims to the judgment of the Emathian people when success should have brought peace. Upon this the gathering resolved, only a few austere republicans dissenting, to change its name from the Revolutionary to the Constitutional Assembly, and an intimation of the fact, together with the information that Emathia had determined to choose a ruler from among the descendants of the Theophanis Emperors, was sent to Professor Panagiotis for dissemination by the usual channels.
While Maurice was thus establishing his position by patient endurance of dilatory declamation, Wylie was hard at work. At his request Dr Terminoff picked out for him each day twenty men from among the most intelligent and adaptable of the insurgents, and they accompanied him in a survey of the coasts of the peninsula. They found that their new leader (Glaukos, or Glafko, was the name they gave him among themselves) had an eye for country as good as their own, and a conception of military tactics which went far beyond their crude idea of firing from ambush until their retreat was seriously threatened, and then retiring with all speed to take up a new position to the rear. The few precarious landing-places which broke the line of the precipitous cliffs were noted, and the fishermen living near them enrolled as scouts, while a ledge of rock here, and a sheltered hollow there, were marked as the site of rough fortifications from which the port might be defended. There was much interest as to Wylie’s plans for defending the narrow isthmus which united the peninsula with the mainland, and considerable disappointment, and even murmurs of treachery, when he refused to requisition the services of the inhabitants en masse for the purpose of digging a ditch and erecting a rampart across it. He took no notice of the grumbling, but when, after much consultation among themselves, a deputation of his followers inquired the reason for his inaction, he pointed out to them that nothing better could be desired than that the Roumis should attack Hagiamavra by land. The broken ground of the interior continued as far as the isthmus, which was not traversed by any road, and an army making its way painfully into the hills would be subject to perpetual attacks from an active enemy well posted and knowing the country. Since the insurgents were so much in love with digging, he promised them plenty of it in making shelter-trenches, but if they wanted to help in something really large and important, he could only advise them to offer their services in making the strong earthwork above Skandalo, which had been undertaken by Dr Terminoff partly in response to the demands of the inhabitants, and partly to provide relief employment for the refugees. In the face of ships’ guns it would be untenable, and only draw destruction upon the place, but the townspeople were loud in demanding protection, and a landing in boats might be prevented by rifle-fire from its shelter.
While Wylie was regaining his own health in the hard open-air life, and attaching to himself the men whom he destined as the nucleus of a disciplined force, Zoe and Eirene had found work of their own. Time threatened at first to hang heavy on their hands, for they were forbidden to move about inside the monastery, or to go outside it without an escort, which every one was too busy to supply. But on the second morning, to Zoe’s astonishment, Eirene broke in upon her in her impulsive way.
“Zoe, I want to do something for those poor wretched women—the people from Therma. Maurice has arranged that those who can work shall be fed, but some of them were ill, and there are the babies. I can’t bear to think of them with no proper shelter.”
Zoe had been assuring herself that if she proposed doing anything for the refugees, Eirene would throw cold water on the suggestion, and she assented with surprise and some remorse. The guards, who were grumbling at their enforced detention in the courtyard, remote alike from the deliberations of the Assembly and from Wylie’s explorations, were despatched to find mules, and welcomed the break in the monotony of their lot. The reception at the refugee camp, after the toilsome journey necessary to reach it, was not equally encouraging. The women seemed to have only one idea of bettering their condition, and that was by begging, and the most strenuous efforts, enforced by personal example, were needed to induce them to set to work. Zoe, longing in vain for her invaluable maid, Linton of the strong arm and caustic tongue, felt herself shamed by Eirene, who seemed to find no work too hard, no task too degrading. Only Eirene herself knew that she was undertaking the care of these people as in some sort an expiation. Their present plight was largely due to her; what if the punishment should fall on the dearly loved boy for whose future she planned and plotted night and day? If any humiliation or exertion of hers could turn away the danger from him, it should not be wanting. Thus she and Zoe toiled to induce the women to improve their temporary habitations, and make at least an effort to keep them clean, and to separate the fever-stricken from the rest, gathering them into a makeshift hospital. Some people might think, said Zoe, after various trying experiences with some of the more active elderly women who had been chosen as nurses, that philanthropic work among Emathian refugees was romantic; whereas workhouse nursing at home was instinct with romance in comparison. The medical officer would naturally have been Dr Terminoff, but he was already fully occupied with his duties as a leader of revolt. However, since his liege ladies gave him no peace, and he was anxious to impress upon his followers the necessity of deference to Maurice and his family, he unearthed two medical students who had run away from their studies at Bellaviste to join one of the bands, and appointed them to hospital posts. Their consent was not asked, and they proved, unfortunately, to be the only two men in the peninsula who positively yearned for drill, so that they were invariably missing whenever Wylie was working at the raw material of his army.
Notwithstanding all the drawbacks, Armitage found a distinct improvement in the condition of the insurgent forces when he returned at the end of a fortnight. By dint of a lavish expenditure of money, he had got together a good cargo of provisions, but no efforts seemed effectual in securing satisfactory ammunition. At one port, where he thought he had the promise of a large quantity of cartridges, it proved necessary to get the cases on board in tremendous haste owing to the suspicions of the harbour authorities and an alarm as to the arrival of a British warship, and on being opened they turned out to be largely filled with scrap-metal, while such cartridges as they did contain were of all sorts and kinds. He brought good news, however, in the positive assurance that, owing to the representations of the Powers at Czarigrad, the projected despatch of Roumi troops had been abandoned. The massacres at Therma had touched the conscience of Europe—or perhaps, as Wylie said, the devastation of so important a commercial centre had touched its pocket; in any case, the Roumis were not to have a free hand in Hagiamavra. Such troops as Jalal-ud-din Pasha already possessed in and around Therma he might employ against the insurgents, but they were not to be swept out of existence by overwhelming force.
The news produced a profound impression upon the insurgents, who came by bands solemnly to congratulate Maurice, and thank him for his efforts in their cause. Not until an indiscreet remark of Dr Terminoff let the cat out of the bag did he and Armitage understand why he was supposed to be responsible for the action of the Powers.
“You know, and I know,” said the Emathian, “that you had nothing to do with the Czarigrad negotiations, since the Powers are not even aware of your presence here, so well has Professor Panagiotis manipulated the press. But it is very well for the people to believe that this success is due to you.”
“I don’t want them to believe anything that isn’t true,” said Maurice. “What are you hinting at?”
“The Professor has only allowed it to become known that the Assembly has addressed a hearty request to any prince of the house of Theophanis to place himself at their head, and achieve the deliverance of Emathia,” was the reply. “This the reactionary Powers fear above all things, and therefore they will not allow Roum to attempt to crush the Emathians, lest Western sympathy should be roused and autonomy demanded for them. The Powers will act in concert, wasting time and effecting nothing, but prolonging the present state of affairs until Scythia and Pannonia are ready for action. Then the wretched troublesome country will be gladly handed over to them.”
“You mean that though the Roumis are forbidden to crush us, the Powers will do it for them?” said Armitage.
Dr Terminoff nodded. “Yes, and that is why it is well for the Prince that the people should believe the Powers are acting in his support. Nilischeff and the anti-dynastic party are hiding their heads at present, but if they knew that the Prince would be disowned by the country of his birth, they would urge that his presence here was merely a danger to the cause, and he ought to be given up.”
“Cheerful prospect for the immediate future!” said Maurice. “Wylie would hardly let those fellows of his make the row they are doing if he knew how mistaken their rejoicing was.”
With dramatic propriety Wylie appeared at the moment from the direction of the extemporised drill-ground.
“More news!” he said. “One of my fishermen scouts brought it, and thought fit to announce it to the whole army as well as to me. Last night he spoke a Therma boat which told him that several ironclads were leaving this morning for these waters, and by the description it must be a division of the British Mediterranean Fleet. My beauties down there are mad with joy, anticipating a triumphal procession to Therma, and Jalal-ud-din’s head on a charger.”
“We must make them understand that the fleet is much more likely to act against us than with us,” said Maurice.
“You cannot, sir,” said Dr Terminoff. “They would only ascribe your denials to diplomacy. Many years of disappointment have not been able to destroy their confidence in the goodwill of England, and they believe that she has just given a superlative proof of it at Czarigrad. Only the personal assurance of the British Admiral will convince them.”
“Backed by a shell or two, I suppose?” said Maurice. “Well, Armitage, it’s very clear that you must be off at once. It isn’t only that you mustn’t be caught at Skandalo, but we don’t want to give them a chance to recognise the yacht if they meet her again.”
“The ironclads will have to lie about a mile out,” said Armitage reflectively. “We must hug the shore to the southward and slip round them. There will just be time.”
“And when you come back,” said Maurice, “bring provisions, whatever you have to leave behind. We find that the Skandalo people have been turning an honest penny by shipping all their spare supplies to Therma, where prices are enormous, of course, while we have been at our wits’ end to feed our refugees. We shall have to establish an embargo if it goes on, for it’s almost certain that news leaks out as well; but it would be horribly difficult to enforce, and make a fearful amount of ill-feeling.”
“Our recruits are not a success as police,” explained Wylie, as they returned to the monastery. “They are most zealous in hunting evil-doers, but then I have to hunt the police. Just wait till I get my Sikhs, though!”
“I say, you know,” said Armitage, “you fellows have really done a lot in this short time. You’ve got the beginnings of an army, and public works, and a judicial system, and you’re contemplating tariff reform!”
“Until the British fleet comes and blows the peninsula out of the water,” said Maurice. “Well, I never expected to fight against the Union Jack, nor did you, Wylie, I’m sure,—but we mean to stick to this job unless we’re turned out. To have got Greeks and Slavs to drill shoulder to shoulder is a bigger thing than it looks.”
CHAPTER X.
THE INTERVENTION OF THE ADMIRAL.
Before the long dark shapes, dimly discernible from the highest point of the rock above the monastery, had been apparently floating in the air on the horizon for more than a day, events began to move in Hagiamavra. On the isthmus connecting the peninsula with the mainland stood a village, or rather its remains, for it had formerly been inhabited by Moslems, and these had required more than merely moral suasion to induce them to quit it. It served now as an outpost of the insurgents, and its garrison was surprised by the approach of a small body of Roumi troops, accompanied very unwillingly by the elders of the dispossessed community. Much elated by the prospect of a fight at last, the garrison prepared to let the foe approach within short range and then annihilate them, but the troops had not come out to be killed. They remained in cover, while the wretched villagers were driven forward, to be turned back in confusion by a few contemptuous shots from the ruins. To the intense disappointment of the defenders, the Roumis were not stirred to action even by this defiance, and retired in safety, merely exchanging shots with them at long range. The next visitor was a Greek pope from Therma, who came as the mouthpiece of Jalal-ud-din to inquire the reason for the extraordinary reception given to the soldiers whom he had deputed to restore the evicted villagers to their homes. In the mild reasonableness of this demand the insurgents saw the hand of the Powers, restraining the Pasha from the vigorous measures he would naturally have taken, and triumphed accordingly. The priest was sent back with the message that the peninsula now recognised only the authority of the Constitutional Assembly, and that no stranger would be permitted to set foot on it, with the exception of properly accredited ambassadors.
The next two or three days and nights were spent by the insulted authorities outside in testing the reality of the Assembly’s occupation. A steamer crowded with troops appeared off Skandalo, but was fired upon both from the redoubt above the town and from the water’s edge, and withdrew with dignity. Two attempts were made either to surprise Karakula, the ruined village, or to slip past it under cover of darkness into the interior, but these were frustrated by the watchfulness of the garrison. The steamer foiled at Skandalo proceeded slowly along the coast, sending a boat ashore at various possible landing-places, but in every case an outburst of firing met it from the positions previously selected by Wylie, and the would-be invaders retreated. The exultation of the insurgents was unbounded, and their self-complacency seemed to be justified when a resplendent dragoman, approaching Karakula under a flag of truce, announced that the Consuls of the Powers at Therma were desirous of offering their mediation, and wished to meet representatives of the Assembly. Over the election of these delegates there was much excitement, the general desire being to choose the men who could be trusted to insist most obstinately on the most extravagant demands, and on the matter of their instructions there was something like a battle, when Maurice and Prince Romanos, supported by the more moderate members, refused even to put forward such points as the instant withdrawal of the Roumis from Czarigrad and from Europe.
The Consuls were admitted, with much ceremony, within the defences as far as the slope overlooking Karakula, where the delegates met them. The diplomatists struck a harsh note at the beginning of the interview by declaring that their mission began and ended with advising the insurgents to lay down their arms and return to their homes, allowing the dispossessed Mohammedans to do the same. The delegates retorted by presenting the demands agreed upon, which comprised the practical autonomy of Emathia, the suzerainty of Roum being recognised merely by the permission to keep a garrison in Therma and the concession of a yearly tribute, which was not to exceed a definite proportion of the revenues of the province. The Emathians were to elect their own Governor-General, whose appointment was to be made by the Powers and confirmed at Czarigrad. He was to be chosen for five years, with the possibility of re-election; to have full authority to reorganise the police and judicial systems, with the aid of assessors representing the various religious bodies under his control; he was to be responsible only to the Powers, and Czarigrad was to possess no veto on his acts of government. There were other conditions, but these were sufficient to make the Consuls raise their hands in horror. With one voice they besought the delegates not to allow themselves to be led away by European agitators, who would never be permitted by the Powers to exercise authority in Emathia. The demands were absolutely impossible, and to insist upon them would merely be to unite the Powers with Roum against the Emathian cause. The delegates, proud of their late success in repelling invasion, and sustained by their unconfessed belief that England was secretly on their side, retorted warmly that the demands represented the irreducible minimum they could accept, and the conference broke up in disorder, the Consuls washing their hands of all responsibility for the fate of such unreasonable people.
While the negotiations were going on, there was a good deal of intercourse between the British squadron and the canny people of Skandalo. Boats laden with provisions and sightseers plied between the town and the ships, and steam pinnaces from the fleet disembarked keen-eyed officers, who strolled carelessly up the steep streets in twos and threes, and were politely but firmly turned back when they attempted to extend their rambles beyond the actual confines of the place. They complained indignantly to Dr Terminoff, who was again acting as the Assembly’s representative at the port, and he sympathised with them in the most friendly spirit. That new erection, or earthwork, or whatever it was, which had altered the aspect of the hill above the town, must be sadly provocative of curiosity, but most unfortunately, knowing nothing of military matters, he could not tell them anything about it. Both sides understood perfectly what this fencing meant, and the officers retired to devise further measures.
The day after the abortive termination of the conference, Eirene and Zoe were working as usual at the refugee camp. The daily course of lessons on the advantages of cleanliness was being exemplified on this particular afternoon by a definite effort to combat the ophthalmia which abounded among the babies, and Eirene was bathing the eyes of a protesting infant, held by Zoe, in the centre of a ring of disapproving women, when one of their guards broke in upon the demonstration in a state of wild excitement. Two officers from the fleet had just been captured by the escort, which had discovered them making their way cautiously down the ridge, and ambushed them in a hollow. They offered no resistance, and pretended at first that they had lost their way; but when their captors proceeded to conduct them back towards the shore, they confessed that in reality they were anxious to pay their respects to the insurgent prince of whom they had heard, and begged to be taken to his stronghold. To the guards this was proof positive that the British Admiral was trying to open up communication with Maurice in order to offer him the support which they were persuaded England was desirous of affording, though stealthily, so as not to allow the other Powers a pretext for helping Roum. It was useless to assure them that England had no intention whatever of acting in opposition to the Concert of Europe, and Eirene was obliged to resort to stratagem to ensure the observance of even a moderate amount of precaution. It was quite possible, she pointed out, that the prisoners might not be British naval officers at all, but spies in the pay of Roum or of one of the other Powers. If, on being told that they must be blindfolded and deprived of their weapons before being conveyed to the monastery, they submitted without objection, this would be a presumptive proof of their good faith, but if they showed anger or apprehension, it would be best to take them down to the sea at once, and not lose sight of them until they were safely on board their boat. It was evident that the suspected persons stood the test, for when Zoe and Eirene prepared to return home, two blindfolded figures, a man and a youth, scarcely more than a boy, were being mounted on mules, giving no help in the process, by way of being as troublesome to their captors as they could. By Eirene’s orders, they were placed at the head of the procession, so that she could distinguish in a moment if either of them tried to get rid of their wrappings, and she and Zoe, following in the rear of the guard, conversed only in whispers, that the prisoners might not guess how near they were to fellow-countrywomen. As they approached the monastery, Zoe turned to her suddenly.