An Uncrowned King Chapter 7 Part 4

“M. Drakovics means me to earn my board and lodging,” said Cyril, who was conscious of a grudge against the statesman for rejecting his counsel.

“I am quite sure that M. Drakovics means nothing of the kind,” said Caerleon, sharply. “He knows very well that you are here as my guest.”

“As the guest of the nation, if I may be permitted to correct your Majesty,” said M. Drakovics. “Thracia owes far too much to your family not to desire to see as many of its members as possible. My reason for asking this question to-day is that Milord Cyril has displayed such a talent for diplomacy that I am anxious not to lose his co-operation in the work I have in hand at present. His one fault is that, like all young diplomats, he wishes to begin, as you say in England, at the top of the tree, and in this he does himself an injustice, for his forte lies rather in working in combination with others than in isolated action, if he will allow me to say so.”

“Well, Cyril, the bitter pill is pretty well gilded,” said Caerleon, laughing. “What do you say? Will you take the situation?”

“I suppose I should have to read all your letters,” said Cyril. “That sounds fairly interesting. Then I should have to write the answers—not quite so delightful, but still passable. Yes; I’ll take it.”

“If your Majesty will permit me, I will give Milord Cyril a few hints as to the duties of this new position,” said M. Drakovics.

“Very well,” returned Caerleon. “I am going to stroll round to the stables, Cyril. When your initiation is complete, you’ll find me there.”

“Now,” said Cyril, closing the door on his brother, and turning to M. Drakovics, “I want to know what you expect to gain by putting off the coronation in this way. You are giving the Scythians and their sympathisers a gratuitous triumph, and losing time, which is of inestimable value. If you have a reason, why keep it a secret?”

“I have a reason, milord,” answered M. Drakovics. “That my opinion does not accord with yours is a matter for regret; but I hope that it will not be anything more. I am deeply anxious that you should remain at Bellaviste, for I need your help.”

“Oh, I suppose I may as well stay here and take Caerleon’s body home when you have got him shot as a filibuster by a Scythian force sent to restore order,” said Cyril.

“You are pleased to be sarcastic, milord,” said M. Drakovics. “Without in the least allowing that the calamity which you prophesy is likely to occur, I would ask you to remember that the cause is more important than the man. If Roum recognises our choice of a king, our future position as a free nation is unassailable, and we are justified in the sight of Europe. If your brother is crowned king at once, we are merely, under present circumstances, a vassal State which has rebelled, and elected its own ruler. No one could be more grateful to his Majesty for accepting the crown than I am, but Thracia must come first.”

“I see,” said Cyril; “your business is to take care of Thracia. Very well, be it so; mine will be to take care of Caerleon. The kingdom will only be a secondary thing with me, as part of Caerleon’s property.”

“Then I hope, milord, that you will prove your care by persuading his Majesty to exercise greater prudence than you both showed last night. To walk through the streets alone, and in disguise, in the midst of crowds of strangers, to the lodging of a family of Scythian spies, where the merest trifle—an accident with a pistol, a drop of poison in a cup of coffee—might have effected the utmost that Scythia could desire, can scarcely be called wise.”

“Well, if you had your eye on us all the time we ought to have been fairly safe,” said Cyril, angry but taken aback.

“You surely do not imagine that I should allow the King to risk his life so rashly without taking precautions to ensure his safety?” said M. Drakovics. “You were followed the whole way by one of my most trusted agents in the Police, a man whom you will do well always to order to accompany you if his Majesty chooses to go out again incognito. You had no idea that you were tracked, but he never lost sight of you.”

“Until we reached the hotel, I suppose?” said Cyril.

“On the contrary, you were never more carefully watched than during your visit there. Ever since Colonel O’Malachy and his wife arrived in Bellaviste, a police agent in a room on the opposite side of the street has kept them under constant surveillance by means of mirrors ingeniously placed at different angles, so that you were in full view during the whole time you spent in their salon.”

“But what is the object of all this police shadowing?” asked Cyril, rather disgusted.

“To avert mischief,” returned M. Drakovics. “And although we did not succeed in preventing the burning of the chapel, yet we have discovered its author. Perhaps you would be surprised to hear how Madame O’Malachy was employed during the time of your visit last night?”

“On the contrary,” said Cyril in his turn; “I am flattered to find that you have come to the same conclusion as myself. She was burning the chapel.”

M. Drakovics was a little disconcerted. “I congratulate you on the soundness of your instincts, milord,” he said.

“But why did you not prevent the fire, if you knew of it beforehand?” asked Cyril.

“Unfortunately, milord, my agent was so much occupied in watching his Majesty and yourself, that he failed to observe Madame O’Malachy leaving the hotel, and only saw her return. It was not until he heard the evidence of the sentries that he divined what her errand had been. But perhaps you will now agree with me in my estimate of the O’Malachy family?”

“By the bye,” said Cyril, quickly, “what did you mean just now by saying that you needed my help?”

“It was on the subject of his Majesty’s marriage,” said M. Drakovics, looking rather confused. “This morning, before you came in, I ventured to suggest to the King the advisability of his consolidating his position by an alliance with some lady belonging to a royal house, but he refused to allow me to say anything on the subject.”

“It’s just what I told you!” cried Cyril. “Englishmen are not accustomed to have their marriages arranged for them, and Caerleon is the very last man to stand it. Now, M. Drakovics, I thought this matter was to be left to me. Am I to have a free hand or not? If I am to be interfered with, I will have nothing to do with it.”