“Now you are trenching on the functions of the Constitutional Assembly,” he said. “Such words should not be uttered until peace is attained. But that will never be if you reward by ungrateful attacks the gentlemen who have given up so much in England to come to our help.”
The meeting broke up in enthusiasm, amid renewed shouts of “Romanos for Prince!” and Wylie and Prince Romanos walked back to Ahmed Pasha and made joint arrangements for the defence. Wylie’s mind dwelt gratefully and lovingly on the agreement into which he had entered with Lieutenant Cotway, and on the pathway he had so carefully prepared from the monastery to Ephestilo. It was possible that the escape of the ladies would have to be managed before very long now. There was no romantic loyalty about the insurgents.
The untoward events of that day and evening appeared to pass off without serious consequences. Wylie doubled the guard at the monastery, and Maurice, on hearing what had happened, insisted that his friend should never go about without a bodyguard of his own, picked from among the Slavs on whose fidelity it was possible, so far as could be known, to count. One of them was the Zeko with whom the party had made acquaintance long before in his brigand days, who seemed to take an almost paternal interest in Wylie, and was quite ready to slay any number of Greeks in his defence. Thus attended, Wylie remained at Ahmed Pasha, watching from a distance the unfortunate garrison of Segreti, who had seen their hope of relief swept away, but remained as determined as ever not to surrender. It seemed impossible that either the Roumis or the Powers should leave them to starve, and therefore Wylie felt little surprise when a boat from the fleet, bearing a flag of truce, landed the dragoman who had already visited him, to announce that the Consuls of the Powers had decided to effect the relief of Segreti on behalf of their respective Governments, purely for the sake of humanity. They would arrive under a flag of truce, bringing with them no Roumi troops, but merely a naval guard, adequate to the dignity of each Consul, drawn from the fleet of his particular Power, and unless opposition was offered to their landing, would not interfere with the insurgents. Of the difficulty which the insurgents’ unfortunate leaders would have in reconciling them to this arrangement, the Consuls could hardly be expected to take account.
“What in the world do they want to make such a fuss about it for?” grumbled Wylie to Prince Romanos. “We could have managed it any night if they had had the sense to communicate with us privately. Now our fellows must stand by and see their prey snatched away from them.”
“Suggest to the Powers that a Roumi attack should be arranged for the same time at the monastery end,” proposed Prince Romanos.
“And suppose it came off? Besides, we don’t want to give our fellows reason to suspect any more plots. No, we shall have to explain things openly. I think they have just sense enough not to wish to provoke a conflict with the Powers.”
“How do you mean to dispose of them on the occasion?”
“Why, the proper thing would be to have them drawn up to salute the Consuls, of course. But I daren’t venture on such close quarters. I should like to withdraw them to Karakula, but I know they wouldn’t go, lest the Powers should put the Roumis back in Ahmed Pasha. I suppose they must stay here, but if any consideration on earth can induce them to pile arms, they shall do it.”
The temper of the insurgents proved to be exactly what Wylie had expected. The news that the Powers were intervening to rescue the defiant opponents whose ultimate discomfiture they had anticipated with so much certainty provoked many new accusations of treachery, and it required some hours of talking before the prudence of those who realised the divinity that doth hedge the person of a Consul could prevail over the truculence of the rest. Distasteful as the sight of the pacific removal of the garrison would be, however, every man was resolved to witness it, and a sullen mob crowded the roofs of Ahmed Pasha when the Consuls were expected. Prince Romanos had exerted himself nobly to second Wylie in insisting that the rifles should be left behind under guard, and they were doubly thankful that they had done so when they observed the vigorous pantomime by which the garrison of Segreti expressed their delight at the approaching release—on the ramparts, so as to be clearly visible against the sky, with the amiable object of exasperating their helpless foes as much as possible.
The progress of the Consuls on their work of mercy was imposing in the extreme. The boats from the various fleets were marshalled in squadrons, and the precedence of each squadron was determined by the seniority of the Consul it escorted. In every other respect, the size of the boats and the number of men they carried, the squadrons were equal in all cases—a mute testimony to the mutual jealousy of the Powers. The British Consul-General, Sir Frank Francis, happened to be the senior official present, and to him Wylie addressed himself as soon as he landed, begging him to hasten his work as much as possible, and to restrain the rescued Roumis from offering provocation to the insurgents. Sir Frank looked at him as though he was presuming on old acquaintance, and replied shortly that the relief would be accomplished with due formality, and that the Consuls intended to take advantage of the occasion to make one more appeal to the common-sense of the insurgents. Wylie shrugged his shoulders and washed his hands of all responsibility, but returned to beg that the Consuls would time their appeal to coincide with the actual relief, so as to divide the attention of the insurgents as far as possible. Sir Frank would make no promises, and Wylie and his guard stood aside while other gold-laced and decorated gentlemen joined their leader, and successive bodies of armed sailors landed and formed up on the beach.