Temporal Power: A Study in Supremacy Part 61

Thus Lotys foresaw that, unless by some miraculous chance he obtained both place and power, and a share in the ruling of things, there was every possibility of a split in the Revolutionary Committee,--one half being inclined to indulge in the criminal and wholly wasteful spirit of Anarchy,--the other disposed to throw in its lot with the Liberal or Radical side of politics. And she began to regard Pasquin Leroy, with his even temperament, cool imperturbability, intellectual daring, and literary ability, as the link which kept them all together, and gave practical force to the often brooding and fantastic day-dreams of Thord, who, though he made plans night and day for the greater freedom and relief of the People from unjust coercion, had not succeeded in obtaining as yet sufficient power to carry them into execution.

It was evident, however, to the whole country that the times were in a ferment,--that the Government was growing more unpopular, and that Carl Perousse, the chief hinge on which Governmental force turned, was under a cloud of the gravest suspicion. Meetings, more or less stormy in character, were held everywhere by every shade of party in politics,--and strong protests against his being nominated as Premier were daily sent to the King. But to the surprise of many, and the annoyance of most, his Majesty gave no sign. The newspapers burst into rampant argument,--every little editor issued his Jovian 'opinion' on the grave issues at stake;--David Jost kept his Hebraic colours flying for the King,--judging that to flatter Royalty was always a safe course for most Jews;--while in the rival journal, brilliant essays, leaders and satires on the political situation, combined with point-blank accusations against the Secretary of State, (which that distinguished personage always failed to notice,) flew from the pen of the mysterious writer, Pasquin Leroy, and occupied constant public attention.

Unlike the realm of Britain,--where the 'golden youth' enfeeble their intellects by the perusal of such poor and slangy journalism that they have lost both the art and wit to comprehend brilliant political writing,--the inhabitants of this particular corner of the sunny south were always ready to worship genius wherever even the smallest glimmer of it appeared,--and the admiration Leroy's writings excited was fast becoming universal, though for the most part these writings were extremely inflammable in nature, and rated both King and Court soundly.

But with the usual indifference of Royalty to 'genius' generally, the King, when asked if he had taken note of certain articles dealing very freely with both him and his social conduct, declared he had never heard of them, or of their writer!

"I never," he said with an odd smile, "pay any attention to clever literature! I should be establishing a precedent which would be inconvenient and disagreeable to my fellow sovereigns!"

The time went on; the King met his Ministers on the day he had summoned them in private council,--and on the other hand Sergius Thord convened a mighty ma.s.s-meeting for the purpose of carrying a resolution formed to address his Majesty on the impending question of the Premiership. From the King's council, the heads of Government came away in haste, despair and confusion; from the ma.s.s-meeting whole regiments marched through the streets in triumphant and satisfied order.

After these events there came a night, when the sweet progress of calm weather was broken up by cloud and storm,--and when heavy thunder boomed over the city at long dull intervals, like the grinding and pounding of artillery, without any rain to cool the heated ether, which was now and again torn asunder by flashes of lightning. There was evidently a raging tempest far out at sea, though the land only received suggestions of this by the occasional rearing up of huge dark green billows which broke against the tall cliffs, plumed with mimosa and myrtle, that guarded the coast. Heavy scents of flowers were in the air--heavy heat weighed down the atmosphere,--and there was a languor in the slow footsteps of the men, who, singly, or in groups, arrived at the door of Sergius Thord's house to fulfil the dread compact binding upon them all in regard to the 'Day of Fate.' Pasquin Leroy and his two companions were among the first to arrive, and to make their way up the dark steep stairs to the Committee room, where, when they entered, they found the usual aspect of things strangely altered. The table no longer occupied its position in the middle of the floor; it was set on a raised platform entirely draped with black. Large candelabra, holding six lights each, occupied either end,--and in the centre one solitary red lamp was placed, shedding its flare over a large bronze vessel shaped like a funeral urn. The rest of the room was in darkness,--and with the gathering groups of men, who moved silently and spoke in whispers, it presented a solemn and eerie spectacle.

"Ah! You have now arrived," said Max Graub, in a cautious sotto voce to Leroy, "at the end of your adventures! Behold the number Thirteen! Six lights at one end, six lights at the other,--that is twelve; and in the centre the Thirteenth--the red Eye looking into the sepulchral urn! It is all up with us!"

Leroy said nothing,--but the face of the man called Axel Regor grew suddenly very pale. He drew Leroy a little aside.

"This is no laughing matter!" he said very earnestly; "Let me stand near you--let me keep close at your side all the evening!"

Leroy smiled and pressed his hand.

"My dear fellow!" he said; "Have no fear! Or if you have fear, do not show it! You stand in precisely the same danger as myself, or as any of us; you may draw the fatal Signal!--but if you do, I promise you I will volunteer myself in your place."

"_You_!" said Regor with a volume of meaning in the utterance; "You would stand in my place?"

"Why, of course!" replied Leroy cheerily; "Life is not such a wonderful business, that death for a friend's sake is not better!"

Regor looked at him, and a speechless devotion filled and softened his eyes. Certain words spoken to him by a woman he loved echoed through his brain, and he murmured:

"Nay, by the G.o.d above us, if death is in question, _I_ will die rather than let _you_ die!"

"That will depend on my humour!" said Leroy, still smiling; "You will require my permission to enter into combat with the last enemy before he offers challenge!"

Max Graub here approached them with a warning finger laid on his lips.

"Hush--sh--sh!" he said; "Think as much as you like,--but talk as little as you can! I a.s.sure you this is a most uncomfortable business!--and here comes the axis of the revolving wheel!"

They made way,--as did all the men grouped together in the room,--for the entrance of Sergius Thord and Lotys. These two came in together; and with a silent salute which included the whole Committee, ascended the raised platform. Lotys was deadly pale; and the white dress she wore, with its scarlet sash, accentuated that paleness. She appeared for once to move under the dominance of some greater will than her own,--she moved slowly, and her head was bent,--and even to Pasquin Leroy as she pa.s.sed him, her faint smile of recognition was both sad and cold.

Once on the platform, she seated herself at the lower end of the funereally-draped table; and leaning her head on one hand, seemed lost in thought. Thord took his place at the opposite end,--whereupon Johan Zegota moving stealthily to the door, closed it, locked it, and put the key in his pocket. Then he in turn mounted the platform, and began in a clear but low voice to call the roll of the members of the Committee.

Each man answered to his name in the same guarded tone; all without a single exception were present;--and Zegota, having completed the catalogue, turned to Thord for further instructions. The rest of the company then seated themselves,--finding their chairs with some little difficulty in the semi-darkness. When the noise of their shuffling feet had ceased, Thord rose and advanced to the front of the platform.

"Friends," he said slowly; "You are here to-night to determine by the hand of Chance, or Destiny, which of certain traitors among many thousands, shall meet with the punishment his treachery deserves. In the list of those who are to-night marked down for death is Carl Perousse;--happy the man that draws _that_ name and is able to serve as the liberator to his country! Another, is the Jew, David Jost,--because it has been chiefly at his persuasion that the heads of the Government have been tempted to gamble for their own personal motives with the secrets of State policy. Another, is the Marquis de Lutera;--who though he has, possibly through fear, resigned office, is to blame for having made his own private fortune,--as well as the fortunes of all the members of his family,--out of the injuries and taxations inflicted on the People. To his suggestion we owe the cruel price of bread,--the tax on corn, a necessity of life;--on his policy rests the responsibility of opening our Trades to such an over-excess of Foreign Compet.i.tion and Supply that our native work and our native interests are paralysed by the strain. To him,--as well as to Carl Perousse, we owe the ridiculous urbanities of such extreme foreign diplomacies as expose our secret forces of war to our rivals;--from him emanates the courteous and almost servile attention with which we foolishly exhibit our naval and military defences to our enemies. We a.s.sume that a Minister who graciously permits a foreign a.r.s.enal to copy our guns--a foreign dockyard to copy and to emulate our ships,--is a traitor to the prosperity and continued power of the country. Two of the great leaders in Trade are named on the Death-list;--one because, in spite of many warnings, he employs foreign workmen only; the other, because he 'sweats' native labour. The removal of all these persons will be a boon to the country--the clearing of a plague of rats from the national House and Exchequer! Lastly, the King is named;--because,--though he has rescued the system of National Education from Jesuit interference and threatening priestly dominance, he has turned a deaf ear to other equally pressing pet.i.tions of his People,--and also because he does nothing to either influence or guide society to its best and highest ends. Under his rule, learning is set at naught--Art, Science and Literature, the three saving graces which make for the peace, prosperity and fraternity of nations,--are rendered valueless, because no example is set which would give them their rightful prominence,--and wine, cards and women are subst.i.tuted,--the three evil fates between which the honour of the Throne is brought into contempt. We should know and remember that Lotys, when she lately saved the life of the King, did,--as she herself can tell you,--plead personally with him to save the people from the despotic government of Carl Perousse and his pernicious 'majority';--but though she rescued the monarch at the risk of her own much more valuable existence--and equally at the risk of being misunderstood and condemned by this very Society to which her heart and soul are pledged,--he refused to even consider her entreaty. Therefore, we may be satisfied that he has been warned;--but it would seem that the warning is of no avail;--and whosoever to-night draws the name of the King must be swift and sure in his business!"

There was a deep pause. Suddenly Max Graub rose, his bulky form and great height giving him an almost t.i.tanesque appearance in the gloom of the chamber. Raising one hand as a signal, he asked permission to speak, which was instantly accorded.

"To my chief, Sergius Thord, and my comrades," he said with a slight military salutation; "I wish to explain what perhaps they have already discovered,--that I am a poor and uncouth German,--not altogether conversant with your language,--and considerably bewildered by your social ethics;--so that if I do not entirely understand things as I should, you will perhaps pardon my ignorance, which includes other drawbacks of my disposition. But when death is in question, I am always much interested,--having spent all my days in trying to find out ways and means of combating man's chief enemy on his own ground.

Because,--though I fully admit the usefulness of death as a cleanser and solvent; and as a means of clearing off hopelessly-useless persons, I am not at all sure that it is an advisable way to get rid of the healthy and the promising. I speak as a physician merely,--with an eye to what is called the 'stock' of the human race; and what I now want to know is this: On what scientific, ethical, or religious grounds, do you wish to get rid of the King? Science, ethics, and religion being only in the present day so many forms of carefully ministering to one's Self, and one's own particular humour, you will understand that I mean,--as concerns the 'happy dispatch' of this same King,--what good will it do to you?"

There was a silence. No one vouchsafed any explanation. After a considerable pause, Thord replied.

"It will do us no good. But it will show the country that we exist to revenge injustice!"

"But--is the King unjust?"

"Can you ask it?" replied Thord with a certain grave patience. "During your a.s.sociation with us, have you not learned?--and do you not know?"

"Sit down, Graub!" interrupted Pasquin Leroy suddenly; "I know the King's ways well enough,--and I can swear upon my honour that he deserves the worst that can be done to him!"

A murmur of sullen approval ran through the room, and somewhat lowering glances were cast at the audacious Graub, who had, by his few words, created the very undesirable impression that he wished, in some remote way, to interfere with the Committee solemnities in progress, and to defend the King from attack. He sat down again looking more or less crushed and baffled,--and Thord went on.

"We have little time to spend together to-night, and none to waste. Let each man come forward now, and take his chance,--remembering,--lest his courage fail him,--that whatever work is given him to do, this Committee are sworn to stand by him as their a.s.sociate and comrade!--to defend him,--even at the risk of their own lives!--and to share completely in the consequences of whatever act he may be called upon to perform in the faithful following of his duty! Friends, repeat with me all together, the Vow of Fealty!"

At once every man rose,--and all lifting their right hands on high repeated in steady tones the following formula after their Chief,--

"We swear in the name of G.o.d, and by the eternal glory of Freedom! That whosoever among us this night shall draw the Red Cross Signal which destines him to take from life, a life proved unworthy,--shall be to us a sacred person, and an object of defence and continued protection! We guarantee to shield him at all times and under all circ.u.mstances;--we promise to fight for him against the utmost combined power of the law;--we are prepared to maintain an inviolate silence concerning his movements, his actions and their ultimate result,--even to the sufferance of imprisonment, punishment and death for his sake! And may the curse of the Almighty Creator of Heaven and Earth be upon us and our children, and our children's children, if we break this vow. Amen!"

The stern and impressive intensity with which these words were spoken sent a slight tremor along even such steel-like nerves as those of Pasquin Leroy, though he repeated the formula after Sergius Thord with the attentive care of a child saying a lesson. At its conclusion, however, a sudden thought flashed through his brain which brought a wonderful smile to his lips, and a rare light in his eyes, and touching the arm of Axel Regor, he whispered.

"Could anything be more protective to me,--_as you know me_,--than this Vow of Fealty? By my faith, a right loyal vow!"

The man he so questioned looked at him doubtfully. He did not understand. He himself had repeated the vow mechanically and without thought, being occupied in serious and uncomfortable meditation as to what possible dangerous lengths the evening's business might be carried.

And, accustomed as he now was to the varying and brilliant moods of one whom he had proved to be of most varying and brilliant intelligence, his brain was not quick enough to follow the lightning-like speed of the chain of ideas,--all moving in a perfectly organised plan,--conceived by this daring, scheming and original brain, which had been so lately roused to its own powers and set in thinking, working order. He therefore merely expressed his mind's bewilderment by a warning glance mingled with alarm, which caused Leroy to smile again,--but the scene which was being enacted, now demanded their closest attention, and they had no further opportunity of exchanging so much as a word.

The Vow of Fealty being duly sworn, Sergius Thord stood aside, and made way for Lotys, who, rising from her seat, lifted the funeral urn from the table and held it out towards the men. She made a strange and weird picture standing thus,--her white arms gleaming like sculptured ivory against the dark bronze of the metal vase,--her gold hair touched with a blood-like hue from the reflection of the red lamp behind her,--and her face,--infinitely mournful and resigned,--wearing the expression of one who, forced to behold evil, has no active part in it. As she took up her position in the front of the platform, Thord again spoke.

"Let each man now advance and draw his fate! Whosoever receives a blank is exempt for another year;--whosoever draws the name of a victim must be prepared to do his duty!"

This order was at once obeyed. Each man rose separately and approaching Lotys, saluted her first, and then drew a folded paper from the vessel she held. But they moved forward reluctantly,--and most of their faces were very pale. When Pasquin Leroy's turn came to draw, he raised his eyes to the woman's countenance above him and marvelled at its cold fixity. She seemed scarcely to be herself,--and it was plainly evident that the part she was forced to play in the evening's drama was a most reluctant one.

At last all the lots were taken, and Johan Zegota lit up the gas-burners in the centre of the room. A sigh of relief came from the lips of many of the men who, on opening their papers found a blank instead of a name.

But Leroy, unfolding his, sat in dumb amazement,--feeling, and not for the first time either, that surely G.o.d, or some special Providence, is always on the side of a strong man's just aim, fulfilling it to entire accomplishment. For to him was a.s.signed the Red Cross, marked with the name of 'The King!' The words of Sergius Thord, uttered that very night, rushed back on his mind;--"Whosoever draws the name of the King must be swift and sure in his business!"

His heart beat high; he occupied at that moment a position no man in all the world had ever occupied before;--he was the centre of a drama such as had never before been enacted,--he had the greatest move to play on the chess-board of life that could possibly be desired;--and the greatest chance to prove himself the Man he was, that had ever been given to one of his quality. His brain whirled,--his pulses throbbed,--his eyes rested on Lotys with a pa.s.sionate longing; something of the G.o.d-like as well as the heroic warmed his soul,--for Danger and Death stood as intimately close to him as Safety and Victory! What a strange, what a marvellous card he held in the game of life!--and yet one false move might mean ruin and annihilation! As in a dream he saw the members of the Committee go up, one by one, to Sergius Thord, who, as each laid their open papers before him, declared their contents.

When Paul Zouche's paper was declared he was found to have drawn Carl Perousse, whereat he smiled grimly; and retired to his seat, walking rather unsteadily. Max Graub had drawn a blank,--so had Axel Regor,--so had Louis Valdor and many others.

At last it came to Leroy's turn, and as he walked up to the platform and ascended it, there was a look on his face which attracted the instant attention of all present. His eyes were singularly bright,--his lithe handsome figure seemed taller and more erect,--he bore himself with a proud, even grand air,--and Lotys, moved at last from her chill and melancholy apathy, gazed at him as he approached, with eyes in which a profound sadness was mingled with the dark tenderness of many pa.s.sionate thoughts and dreams. He laid down his paper before Thord, who, taking it up read aloud:

"Our friend and comrade, Pasquin Leroy, has received the Red Cross Signal."

Then pausing before uttering his next words he raised his voice a little, so that he might be heard by everyone in the room, and added slowly:

"To Pasquin Leroy, Fate gives--the King!"

A low murmur of deep applause ran through the room. Max Graub and Axel Regor sprang up with a kind of smothered cry, but Leroy stood immovable.

Instead of returning to his seat as the others had done, he remained standing on the platform in front of the Committee table, between Lotys and Sergius Thord. A strange smile rested on his lips,--his att.i.tude was inexplicable. Surveying all the men's faces which were grouped before him in a kind of chiaro-oscuro, he studied them for a moment, and then turned his head towards Thord.

"Sergius,--so far, I have served you well! Destiny has now chosen me out for even a greater service! May I speak a few words?"

Thord a.s.sented,--but a sudden sense of inquietude stirred in him as he saw that Lotys had half risen, that her lips quivered, and that great tears stood in her eyes.