Toppling Thrones
According to our agreement, the Dictator of Zu and I lost no time about negotiating for peace. Our messages, true to the native custom, were phrased in the most pompous and ponderous language, conveying the impression that we disdained words of under six syllables; yet we were not so ruled by formality that we lost sight of our object. Within about thirty "wakes," we had come to the stage of arranging an armistice; and Clay and I, meeting with great bluster and ceremony at the border line of the two countries, but giving no sign of mutual recognition except for an occasional sly wink, duly affixed our signatures to the document which officially ended the war between Wu and Zu.
All this, however, was not quite so easy as it may sound. Both of us were splashing in stormy waters—more stormy, perhaps, than either of us realized. I was unable to keep close track of events in Zu, for the waves were dashing so threateningly over my own head that I had no time for outside affairs. But I was soon to learn how closely Clay's experience paralleled mine.
Never had any of my acts aroused such opposition as the attempt to establish peace. Even the move to tax the First and Second Classes had been less tempestuously received; the Blare and the Screamer openly condemned me as "capitulating to the enemy," and were not silenced even by my threat to suspend their publication; the people rose in mass demonstrations, shouting "Down with Zu! Down with Zu!" I was the recipient of innumerable petitions which warned against "Peace without victory!" and protested that "No honorable settlement is possible until the enemy turnover is double our own."
At the same time, insidious propaganda was being passed by word of mouth through every pit and gallery of the land. "What is to become of the munition makers if we end the war?" it was asked. "They will lose heavily on their investments." ... "Yes, and a million men will be thrown out of work," it was added ... "Have we none of the ancient hardihood of our fathers?" others would cry. "Do we pusillanimously dread to be turned over?" ... "Let us not surrender until Nullnull is wholly ours!" still others would shout. "We must make the world safe for the First Class!" And, mingled with these cries, there were exclamations about "The lofty ideals of the battle caves!" "The triumph of thoughtlessness!" and "The turnover to end turnovers!" until the people were in such a frenzy that nothing I said was able to reach them.
I was fast approaching despair and was even debating whether it would not be better to renew the war than to risk a revolution, when a series of unprecedented events put an end to all my plans.
Early one "wake" shortly after rising from a sleepless bed, I picked up a copy of the Screamer and was greeted by news that, I fear, made my eyes fairly bulge out of my head:
REBELLION IN ZU!
Rah the Righteous Overthrown!
Country in Turmoil!
"A counter-revolution broke out yesterday in Zu, owing to charges of military authorities that Dictator Rah the Righteous was betraying his people into a disgraceful peace. Substantiating their accusations of treason against the people's interests, they produced the testimony of two sworn witnesses who asserted that one wake, shortly after Rah's accession to power, they followed him as he made his way in disguise into a remote gallery at the border line of Nullnull. There he held an illicit conversation with one whom, they say, is high in the circles of the Government of Wu; in fact, they claim to have identified the second man as no less a personage than our own Dictator.
"This tale, which can only be held to be a gross libel so far as Luma the Illustrious is concerned, has been accepted without question by the people of Zu. As a result, they have stormed the royal palace, demanding resumption of the war and threatening the life of Rah the Righteous, who is now known as Rah the Treasonous. Rah himself is believed to have escaped, although there are reports that he was lynched by an infuriated mob. The former Dictator, Oono Yuno, is said to be on his way back to resume power."
It is impossible to describe with what emotion I read this account. That the throne of Zu had cracked; that the Dictatorial power had been split asunder; that the renewal of war was likely—all this appeared as nothing; my one great, my overwhelming concern was with Clay. Where was he now? Had he escaped the maddened multitude? Or was he already a martyr to their bloodthirsty frenzy?
With excited haste, I rushed to my secretary and gave orders that scouts be sent out, and that if any one answering to the description of the former Dictator of Zu was found, he was to be offered a sanctuary in Wu. There seemed, it is true, small chance that he would be found; but, in my terror for my friend's safety, I wished to leave no stone unturned.
Hardly had I issued my orders when one of my palace guards approached with every evidence of excitement. After bowing to the floor in the established manner, he addressed me hastily.
"Your Abysmal Excellency, there is a vagabond outside who asks to see you. I told him it was impossible, that you were tied up in a conference; but he insisted until I had a mind to throw him into the dungeon to cool his impatience. Finally he gave me a bit of paper, and said that if I passed it to you, you would understand. He must be a madman, Your Excellency, for the paper is filled with a meaningless scrawl."
"Let me see it!" I demanded as I fairly snatched at the rumpled notepaper which the guard held out.
I am sure that the man, thoughtless though he was trained to be, was surprised to note the gasp of astonished joy with which I glanced at the paper, and the agitated haste with which I demanded, "Quick! Show the visitor in!"
As the guard saluted and left, I began to pace rapidly back and forth, while reading over and over again those few words in a handwriting I knew so well!
A minute later, a queer-looking figure entered the room. I do not wonder that the guard had called him a vagabond; his robe was ripped and torn in a hundred places, and here and there it was stained with splashes of blood; a dark hood was drawn over his face, concealing the hair and the features; his eyes looked out at me from behind binoculars, such as were worn by near-sighted citizens; his long, cone-shaped hat was battered and dented as if from a scuffle, and the black glove was missing from his right hand.
My visitor waited until the guard had left; then he removed his binoculars and threw off his hood to reveal a figure familiar and yet strange. For a moment I gaped in astonishment at that closely cropped head and that face from which every vestige of a beard had been shaved—at those eyes, deeply sunken as if from a sleepless vigil—at the long, drawn features, with the worn and ravaged lines. "Phil!" I exclaimed. "I hardly recognized you!"
"No wonder!" he returned, wearily, as he sank down upon a chair, "I've been through hell itself!"
"But you're here at last! That's the main thing!" I rejoiced. "Heavens, you don't know how worried I was!"
"You don't know how worried I was, old pal!" he replied as he wiped his perspiring brow and shook his shorn head dolefully. "I ought to have taken your advice, Frank. This Dictator business doesn't agree with me!"
"How did you escape?" I inquired. "The paper says—"
"Says that Rah the Righteous is about done?" he interrupted. "Well, there isn't so very much left of him. There wouldn't have been even mince meat if that mob had gotten me. It was a mighty close call."
He paused, mopped his brow once more, and continued.
"By God! When I heard the rabble streaming through the streets, crying for my blood, you can believe me, old man, I was scared. I had to think fast! I took just about the quickest shave of my life, cutting off my red hair and whiskers. Then I pasted them on a dummy, which I placed near the palace entrance. While the mob was storming the gates, trying to get at that old scarecrow, I slipped on these binoculars and hood, dressed in servant's clothes, went out by the back entrance, mixed with the mob, and even joined in yelling, 'Down with Rah the Righteous!' and finally escaped through a side-gallery and took a 'scootscoot' here. I've been all night at it! At the border of Wu I had a tussle with some sentries and laid three of them flat before I made my get-away. That explains my nice society appearance, old pal."
With a rueful grimace, he looked down at his torn, blood-spattered clothes.
"Well, don't mind that, Phil, old boy!" I said, coming to him and slapping him heartily on the shoulder. "I'll look out for you now. We've stuck together most of our lives, and I guess we can stick it out just a little longer."
Yet, even as I uttered these words, I realized how embarrassing it would be for me to be found sheltering the runaway Dictator of Zu.