“Going to take us out by a back gate and save trouble,” John said. “We tried saving trouble, but we learned better, didn’t we?”
We did not go up the great state stairs that led to the huge arched doorway, but to a small door under the staircase, along an almost dark corridor with a cold stone floor. We were inside the Palace at last, but not in the way we had expected to get there. I was too discouraged to care much what they did to us. John might be cheerful. Being wounded, the soldiers had protected him better than they had me, and he had both his shoes. My only immediate interest was in stepping as lightly as possible on my unshod foot, but I retained a faith that the future would sometime permit me to leave Alaria. Nobody ever loved any country less than I did that fantastic, mediæval kingdom at that moment. I did not even care that we had failed in our errand.
We reached a room with a soft carpet, for which my foot was grateful. It was a blue carpet, without figures, and never made in Alaria. Indeed, the color was so unexpected, underfoot in a country of bare stone floors or bright Oriental rugs that I summoned interest enough to look around me. White enamelled French furniture, upholstered in pink and blue striped silk, and on a mantel bright French porcelain vases with a clock to match. I reflected that Palace dungeons were more daintily furnished than any we had hitherto been lodged in.
A door was opened, and we were ushered through it, into a less formal room, where, at last, and when we least expected to see her, sat Queen Yolanda.
She was draped, like a Ziegfeld Niobe, in heavy black, and sat before a large and elaborately carved desk. Beside her, flushed with excitement, her eyes bright, but frightened, stood Maria Lalena. She nodded when she saw us, and said something I did not hear to Queen Yolanda. The soldiers stood very close to us so that we should not be able to make any attack upon their royal persons.
I was beyond being surprised, but it was somewhat unexpected. It was also the first time I had ever been ushered into the presence of two Queens, and I was not sure just what might be the proper ritual. John smiled ecstatically, bowed deeply, and said, “your Majesties.”
Both ladies returned the bow, formally. Yolanda spoke then. It was the first time I had heard her. Her voice was throatily vibrant. “Why do you bring these gentlemen here like criminals?” she demanded. “Have you so little regard for your Queen’s life that you arrest her saviors?”
The officer with us protested. “Your Majesty, this is the man who threw the bomb.”
Maria Lalena said, excitedly, “No, no, it isn’t. He threw something that made the bomb go wild. I saw it. I was looking straight at him.”
Queen Yolanda spoke again resonantly. “You should know your business better than that. Untie those ropes.” She turned to us. “We are very grateful, and we apologise for our soldiers’ mistake. They have been stupidly rough with you. Forgive them, they thought you assassins. We sent for you to thank you, and also because her Majesty tells me that you were in a dangerous situation at the gate. We acted as quickly as we could.”