An Uncrowned King Chapter 6 Part 1

“Where is the King?” asked M. Drakovics, coming into the coffee-room hastily about an hour later, and finding only Cyril, who was engaged in performing some complicated operation with a bradawl and the strap of a knapsack.

“His Majesty,” returned Cyril, in the choicest ‘Court Circular’ style, “is walking out this morning, and at this moment is probably conversing in a friendly spirit with some of his faithful subjects, through the medium of Mr Louis O’Malachy.”

“These O’Malachys again!” cried M. Drakovics. “This must be stopped!”

He turned angrily to leave the room, but Cyril was at the door before him.

“One moment, monsieur. I wish to know on what terms we are to stand?”

“I do not understand you, milord”—M. Drakovics was astonished—“but I hope to satisfy you later. Meanwhile, are you aware that Colonel O’Malachy and his family leave this place to-day, before his Majesty, for Bellaviste, and intend to reside there for the present? That cannot be allowed.”

“Now we have come to the point,” said Cyril. “I want a plain answer to a plain question, M. Drakovics. Are you and I to work together or not? If we are to be friends, I will tell you at once that you are meditating a very great mistake, and that I should be glad to help you to avoid it.”

“Milord!” The Kossuth of the Balkans looked Cyril up and down in amazement visibly mingled with scorn. “I am highly honoured by your offer of co-operation, but my dull mind fails to perceive its advantages.”

“No?” said Cyril, with unruffled good-humour, “and yet there are two very obvious ones. In the first place, you have to reckon with my influence over my brother. You cannot persuade yourself that you know him as well as I do, and if you consider the matter a little, I think you will see that my advice is quite as likely to be followed as yours, and that the consequences of this might be unpleasant if you and I had the misfortune to disagree. In the second place, although you are very clever and very powerful, you are neither omnipotent nor omniscient, and there are circumstances in which the help of a man who has a certain amount of knowledge of the world, and some slight experience in diplomacy, might possibly stand you in good stead, even though he were the humble individual before you.”

M. Drakovics gasped. The colossal impudence of his sovereign’s brother appeared literally to take away his breath. “If you were not an Englishman,” he said, slowly, “I should think that you wanted to be bought off.”

“But since I am an Englishman,” said Cyril, “you can’t quite see what Thracia could offer me that I should care for; and you are about right there. I am going in for this business just for the fun of the thing, and for the sake of backing up Caerleon. I don’t know, of course, what Mrs Sadleir told you about me in the letter I forwarded; but from what she said when she wrote it, I think she must have let you know what my views were.”

“She did,” said M. Drakovics, with some hesitation, “but still——” He looked thoughtfully at Cyril for a moment, and then spoke quickly, “You have no doubt studied carefully the present position of affairs in the Balkans, milord. What should be my course at the moment with regard to Roum, which holds suzerain rights over Thracia?”

“Despatch a special messenger, well provided with money, to Czarigrad immediately,” said Cyril, without an instant’s pause. “Make the Government there see that the election of an Englishman as king is a fresh bulwark against Scythian aggression. Secure their moral support at any cost, and get an assurance, no matter what you have to pay for it, that even if Scythia brings pressure on them to censure or disavow your action, they will at least take no active steps against you.”

“Excellent!” cried M. Drakovics. “My dear friend, the messenger has already started. How your ideas jump with mine! But tell me, what next?”

“Send off immediately notes to the various Powers, informing them of my brother’s election, and inviting their sovereigns to be present at the coronation. Once the despatches are gone, don’t lose a minute. Instead of heading straight for Bellaviste, let us go at once to the nearest city or monastery where an archbishop is to be found. Beg, borrow, or buy a crown—you could make one with two or three of those gold plates from the icons, fastened together—and get Caerleon crowned without the smallest delay. Remonstrances from the Powers will be beginning to pour in by that time, of course; but they will have to follow you about the country, and you won’t open them until after the ceremony. Then you will regret that they arrived so late that, in the bustle and rush attendant upon the coronation, they remained unnoticed.”