“Ladies nearest the gate,” said Wylie’s voice. “Cartridges and machine-guns next, then the rifles. Terminoff, are your men to be trusted if one or two of them get inside?”
“If your sailors are there too,” was the not very encouraging reply.
Maurice turned and waved his hand. The sailors, instructed by Wylie in a stage whisper how to hold their rifles, were summoned to the front, and produced an awe-inspiring click at the word of command. Very slowly and heavily one of the gates creaked open, leaving just room for the passage of one mule at a time. At a word from Wylie, Prince Romanos took the bridle of Eirene’s mule and led it in, and Zoe’s followed, while the sailors turned to face the crowd instead of the gate. One by one the mules were dragged in, Maurice and Prince Romanos opening the second leaf of the door by main force to allow of the entrance of the cases, while Armitage and Wylie, last of all, facing outwards, kept back the mob that surged behind. The last and most obstreperous mule disappeared with a final flourish of heels, the double row of sailors on either side of the gate drew together and vanished two by two, and Wylie and Armitage retreated slowly backwards, each with a hand in his pocket, the crowd pressing round, but leaving a clear space in front of them. Armitage tripped over the threshold, but was dragged in, head first, by Maurice, and the sailors closed half the door while Wylie stood on guard. Then he also slipped within, and the remaining leaf was slammed and barred, while a howl of disappointment went up from the mob outside. Wylie smiled ironically.
“Before I do anything else,” he said, “I’ll put those machine-guns together, and mount one on the top of the gate, and the other just here to command it. They seem needed to save us from our friends.”
CHAPTER IX.
ARTS OF PEACE.
The expedition had reached port, but this was all that could be said. The quiet fore-court of the monastery was filled with kicking mules, vociferating drivers, and curious sailors, while two or three agitated monks bewailed the invasion with uplifted hands. The strangers had brought women within the sacred gates, and were further polluting the precincts with the presence of schismatics and of weapons of war. The glory of Hagiamavra had departed, for the stain could never be removed. Leaving Wylie to arrange measures of defence, Maurice set himself to soothe the feelings of the distracted hosts. A little diplomacy induced them to confess that the monastery had on one former occasion in its history given shelter to the abhorred sex, in the shape of a number of women and children from Skandalo seeking refuge on account of the visit of a Roumi fleet, but then these suppliants had asked no more than to crouch on the bare stones of the courtyard. However, in answer to a tactful question or two, the Hegoumenos, or Abbot, owned that the number of monks was now so much reduced as to occupy only the innermost cells, those which clustered round the church, in the narrowest part of the rift, thus leaving the buildings near the gateway free for the accommodation of the visitors. A promise from Maurice that the ladies would make no attempt to penetrate farther than the fore-court contributed still more to smooth matters, and the Hegoumenos volunteered to send a couple of lay brethren to sweep out the rooms and to provide firewood.
Returning to the rest, Maurice found that Wylie had got one of the guns unpacked and set up to protect the entrance, but was in doubt whether to carry out the rest of his plan and mount the other upon the gateway itself. The idea was opposed vehemently by Dr Terminoff, who urged that since the monastery had so fortunately been reached without the shedding of a drop of blood, there was every hope of coming to a happy understanding with the insurgents, but that this would be grievously imperilled by any show of distrust. At his earnest request Maurice allowed the insurgent leader to go up to the gateway and address the crowd outside, which he did with much effect. A marked and somewhat awestruck silence succeeded the din which had hitherto prevailed, and the various chiefs who were present requested Dr Terminoff to convey their assurances of friendship to the English visitors. As he descended from the gateway, the English visitors seized upon him.
“What was that you told them about Roumi troops being on their way here?” demanded Maurice.
“It is quite true. Five battalions are already embarked, we understand, and others are on the point of departure.”
“But how have you heard it up here?” cried Wylie.