An Uncrowned King: A Romance of High Politics

by Sydney C. Grier

On these occasions Cyril generally remained in the background, afraid of being caught laughing, as he told M. Drakovics, to the no small indignation of the Premier. Wright shared his objection to publicity, but for a different reason, feeling very uneasy in his mind as to the whole proceeding, now that he understood its import, and not at all sure that it was consistent with his duty to Queen Victoria to become a subject of Caerleon. There was an unhappy consciousness that something was wrong about his whole aspect, which would have afforded Cyril infinite amusement at any other time; but now, as from his commanding position on horseback he watched his brother’s close-cropped fair head towering above the unkempt locks of his new subjects, he was busy trying to enter into the feelings of the Thracians. Mothers brought their children to look at Caerleon, for good luck, as they said, “that their eyes might see the King’s face”; old men came tottering up to touch his coat or his riding-whip, and to call down blessings on his head. It was all too absurdly medieval, thought Cyril, as the office-bearers of the little towns came hurrying to take the oath of allegiance to their new King, and the peasants crowded round to entreat him to raise an army to conquer Scythia, in which every man of them would enlist. Why should they make all this fuss about an unimaginative Englishman, who merely looked uncomfortable when a more than usually fervent assurance of devotion was translated to him, and who could say nothing in return but that he would try to do his best for the people and the country? There could be no idea of Divine Right in this case, for how could such a sentiment consist with the popular election of the monarch? and as for loyalty, how could they feel loyalty to a man of whom they knew nothing but that he was an English prince, for whom M. Drakovics vouched as a suitable candidate for the throne? Cyril decided at last that they regarded Caerleon as the incarnation of the spirit of the late revolution, and as a bulwark against Scythia and the return of the House of Franza; but the Thracians themselves would probably have explained their delight much more simply by saying that they had a king at last, that he was young, good-looking, and fair-haired, and that he spoke courteously and looked like a soldier.

After three days spent in this kind of travelling the party came in sight of Bellaviste, and here they were met by what M. Drakovics called the “Sacred Band,” but which was known to military critics as the crack regiment of the Thracian army. It had been recruited on the classical principle, the men being divided into little groups of five or ten, all hailing from the same village, while in the same way each company represented a district, and each battalion a province.

“This regiment, your Majesty,” said M. Drakovics, as he presented the officers to Caerleon, “is the backbone of your army. Representative, from its composition, of the whole nation, it was the first to declare for freedom, and when it had done so, the doom of the House of Franza was sealed. I can assure you that the Sacred Band, to which, with your gracious permission, I will from to-day grant the honour of calling itself the Carlino Regiment, will prove to be the bulwark of your throne.”

The grant of its new name was received with great enthusiasm by the regiment, which was formed up for inspection, and when this ceremony was over, proceeded to escort the King into his capital. M. Drakovics, riding as usual beside his sovereign, pointed out the chief features of interest on the road. The city of Bellaviste itself was situated on a hill, which rose steeply from the river, but fell away gradually on the other sides. The highest portion of the hill was occupied by the palace, which with its gardens was surrounded by a strong wall capable of defence against a foe unprovided with artillery. Below this, on three sides, the houses of the town covered the slopes as far as the lowlands, while a broad rampart ran round the whole, set with towers at intervals.

“That is all our work since the revolution,” said M. Drakovics, pointing to this rampart with pride. “Under the Franzas, the money voted for fortifications was all spent on excavating and arming useless batteries along the river-front, which no foe would think of attacking, while the town was left defenceless.”

“I don’t think you are giving King Peter the credit he deserves,” said Cyril. “If his batteries on the river-face are well placed, he ought to be able to command the whole channel, and his position would be most important in view of a European war. Matters would be very much in his hands, for unless he chose, the Pannonian gunboats could not get out to sea, nor could the Scythian war-ships get up the river. The great danger would be that he might find himself taken in the rear. I suppose he meant to see to that when he had finished his batteries.”

“Our views were not so exalted, milord,” said M. Drakovics. “Safety was our great consideration, and when we were free our first thought was to erect a wall, which, if it could not stand against modern artillery, would at any rate serve to resist any insurrectionary force.”

“And to whom is the defence of the wall intrusted?” asked Caerleon. “To the Sacred Band?”

“No, indeed,” answered the Premier. “Their barracks are two miles away from the city, on that farther hill. The people were afraid that if their king had a regiment at his command in Bellaviste, he might use it to overthrow the constitution. The city is garrisoned by the city guard, which is entirely composed of young men belonging to Bellaviste families. One company of this forms the palace guard, with a very elaborate uniform and special rights. It was the favourite corps of King Peter Franza, and we scarcely expected that its members would be willing to fall in with the new state of things, particularly when we were forced to deprive them of some of their privileges. But the officers are all staunch—we took care of that.”

“Did your care extend to giving the palace guard as many occasions of discontent as possible?” asked Cyril. “You owed the success of your revolution to the co-operation of the army, and the army must be very dense if it has not learnt the lesson. What you will have to guard against in the future is a military revolt, and it sounds to the uninitiated as though you were carefully working one up.”