CHAPTER XXIII.
UNDER WHICH KING?
“Your Majesty will relate to us your adventures?” said the Princess, when they were seated at table. “At present we know only that the insurgents declared most solemnly that they had killed you, and that we find you are here in Malta several days after your supposed death.”
“I can’t at all understand that confession myself,” said Caerleon, smiling, “for the men who made it had the best possible means of knowing what had really happened to us. Well, to go back to the beginning of everything, it seems, from what my brother has since told me, that he and Drakovics had some idea that an attempt would be made on my life at the coronation, which was to take place to-day—or yesterday—or was it the day before?—I am in a state of utter confusion now as to the day of the week. I suppose the rumour was a mere blind, intended to distract our attention from the real plot. At any rate, rather less than a week ago, Wright woke us in the middle of the night, and told us there was not a sentry to be seen about the place, and that the servants had all disappeared. We got up and looked for our revolvers, but they had been tampered with, and the only weapons we could find were the wretched Brummagem swords we wear in full dress. We started out along the corridor with these in our hands, but it wasn’t until we came to the landing that we caught sight of the enemy. Then we had a fight on the stair-way, like old Umslopogaas, and we were led forcibly to the conclusion that a Zulu battle-axe was a more satisfactory weapon than a tailor-made sword. Still, with General Sertchaieff’s sword, which Wright got hold of for me, I think we might have managed to hold our own, if they hadn’t come upon us from behind and knocked us down the stairs. Then they tied us up with curtain-ropes, and wanted me to sign a deed of abdication, but I wouldn’t do it.”
“I am sure you would not!” cried Nadia, with flashing eyes. “Did they threaten to kill you?”
“Well, the atmosphere was rather threatening, certainly, and they were kind enough to warn us that our fate was in our own hands, and that sort of thing. Then they took us down to the river, and on board a steamer, and there, I don’t mind telling you, I did think that our last hour was come. They blindfolded us, and I made sure we were to be shot at once; but then they began to drag us along the deck, and I thought they must be going to make us walk the plank, that there might be no signs of violence visible on our bodies. I know it crossed my mind even then that they must have a robust faith in human nature if they believed that three bound and blindfolded corpses would be imagined to have got into the river by accident. At last I felt them give me a good push forwards, but instead of falling overboard I found myself on my hands and knees in a cabin. The next moment my brother and Wright were flung in on top of me, and the door was locked. I believe they never really meant to kill us after all, only to frighten us into begging for mercy, or something of the kind; but if that was the case, they were disappointed. Before we had picked ourselves up we heard the men who had brought us on board putting off again in the boat, and the steamer started immediately. They must have been getting up steam beforehand in readiness for our arrival. We set to work at once to try and free ourselves, and as our hands were tied in front of us, we managed to do it after a time. Wright succeeded first, and he helped us. Then we got off the handkerchiefs which were tied over our eyes, but the place was quite dark. We felt all round and about it, and made up our minds that we must be in some sort of deck-cabin, but there were no windows, only wooden shutters. There was no furniture, nothing but a heap of old tarpaulins, and it was frightfully cold, for the snow was on the ground when we started. Cyril hadn’t got a proper coat on, merely a smoking-jacket, and he began to shiver horribly. I had no coat either, but Wright gave him his, and we took turns in walking about so as to keep warm, and covering ourselves as best we could with the tarpaulin. If you asked me how long we stayed in that place, I should say about six hundred years, but I suppose it can’t have been more than six days,—or was it only five? A grinning Scythian rascal with a lantern opened the door and poked us in some ship’s biscuit and water several times during our voyage. I really never knew before how old and stale ship’s biscuit could be. We tried to induce the fellow to bring us some better food for Cyril and a blanket or two; but we had no money with us, and he demanded cash down, and exhibited a holy horror of dealing on credit. Cyril got worse and worse, and we couldn’t do anything for him. We gave him all the tarpaulin to keep him warm, but it was wretched stiff stuff, and wouldn’t cover him properly. At first he was able to talk sensibly to us, and to try to appeal to the jailer’s better nature in Scythian, but as time went on he became half-delirious, and we could see that he was suffering horribly. We banged at the door and did everything we could devise to attract attention, and we promised the jailer unheard-of sums if he would bring the captain or some one in authority to speak to us, but he only laughed. All this time we could tell that the ship was moving, but happily there was not much sea on. At last, this morning, she stopped suddenly, and as far as we could make out, a boat came on board, and then put off again. Whether this was an order for some change in our destination I don’t know, but not very long afterwards they called to us to come out of the cabin. Wright and I dragged Cyril up, and helped him out into a sort of passage-place, where the light dazzled us, for we had seen nothing but the jailer’s lantern since we had been on board. Before we could look round or manage to see who was there, we were blindfolded again and our hands tied, and we were taken down the ship’s side into a boat. We were rowed some way until we felt the keel grate on some sort of shore, and then they hauled us out and dumped us down upon the sand, and we heard them rowing away again. Our hands were tied behind us this time, so that it was a long while before we could get them free, and when we got our eyes uncovered, the ship was steaming away from us right out at sea, almost out of sight. There we were stranded, on a desert island for all we knew, with poor old Cyril gabbling away in all sorts of languages, and quite off his head. We drew him under the shadow of the cliff, and Wright went a little way along the beach to look for a path. He found a place where there was a gap in the cliffs, and went up it a short distance, and then came back and told me that he could see houses a good way off. We lifted poor Cyril between us, and carried him up through the gap and along a little field-path to the house where you found us. There were only the women and children at home, and they couldn’t understand us, nor we them; but they were very kind to us, and gave us food and made up a bed of leaves for Cyril. Then when the farmer came back from work, we had another try at making ourselves understood; but it was no good, and we couldn’t even get him to tell us slowly where we were. He talked so fast, and said so much, that though I had an idea that he mentioned Valetta, I couldn’t be sure of it. However, I thought it was very likely that they had brought us to Malta as the nearest piece of British territory to Thracia, so Wright and I agreed that he had better get the farmer to take him to the town we could see in the distance, and look about for some good Samaritan who could speak English, and might be able to guide him to a doctor. But I never hoped to fall in with two such good Samaritans as those who brought him back.”
“Hush!” said the Princess, “let us have no compliments, please. To have been the means of helping fellow-creatures in distress is enough for me, and if it is not enough for Mdlle. O’Malachy, she may say so for herself. But tell me—do you seriously consider that you are in danger here?”
“I haven’t an idea,” said Caerleon. “The English Government has never recognised me as King of Thracia, and therefore it has no right to consider me as anything but a private person; but there might be some official who would prefer security to logic, and put me in prison just to prevent any risk of accidents. I must telegraph to Drakovics to-morrow, and see how things stand, and after I have heard from him I shall know better what to do.”
“Quite so,” said the Princess. “You are aware that the Thracians, believing you to be dead, have chosen one of the Schwarzwald-Molzau princes as their king?”
“I know—Prince Otto Georg, a very good fellow; he was staying with me at Bellaviste before I—well, left. I have no wish whatever to interfere with his election,—though no doubt it will be an awful sell for him when he hears that I am alive after all.”
“I doubt whether you could interfere even if you were anxious to do so,” said the Princess. “We heard that he was to be crowned to-day, and it is possible that his coronation might bar any claim on your part.”