“What uniform?” asked Brand, quickly.
“The uniform of a Colonel in the Guards of Theos,” Domiloff answered. “Here it is.”
A servant entered, carrying a suit of gorgeous light blue and white uniform. Barka and Omardine respectfully withdrew.
“I see no need at all for me to wear these things,” Brand exclaimed, glancing in bewilderment at the many trappings and strange fastenings. “I will go as I am. There will be plenty of time afterwards for this sort of thing.”
“It is impossible,” Domiloff interrupted. “Your Highness seems to forget that your throne has yet to be won. The people have had enough of civilians. You must appear before them as a soldier, and they will shout you King till their throats are hoarse and the water stands in their eyes. They are a dramatic people, lovers of effect. They must be taken by storm. I cannot offer your Highness a valet, but perhaps I can be of assistance.”
Brand yielded, but not without secret misgivings. With his clothes a certain part of his easy confidence departed. His share in the game was no longer to be a purely passive one. With the donning of this uniform to which he had no manner of claim he entered the lists of intrigues boldly, as an impostor and masquerader. Under certain circumstances the way out might be difficult.
Domiloff watched him make his toilet with a certain curiosity. It was odd that a military man should be so much embarrassed by buckles and straps, yet when all was completed he was bound to admit that the result was satisfactory enough. Brand was a good-looking fellow, and he looked the part.
“Your Highness will be so good now as to follow me,” Domiloff directed. “A carriage is waiting to take us to the station.”
A guard of honour surrounded the open landau, whose military salute Brand gravely returned. The news of his arrival had quickly spread. The country people thronged around, shouting and cheering. The air was rent with strange, barbaric cries. Their short drive to the railway station was a triumphal progress. Brand alone was wholly uncomfortable. Surely amongst all this press of people there would be some one to whom Prince Ughtred was known. They reached the station, however, without incident, and amidst ever-increasing enthusiasm. A handsome saloon was drawn up to the carpeted platform, and a cordon of soldiers kept the station clear. In less than five minutes they were off.
Brand unbuckled his sword, and threw his helmet up in the rack. Then he made himself comfortable in an easy-chair, ostensibly to sleep, in reality to think out the situation.