Chapter XIV: Imperium in Imperio

Something went wrong with the great plan conceived by Prince Romanos for the discomfiture of the Roumi invaders. A reckless expenditure of fuel produced a most inviting beacon on the headland, and a bonfire in the village which endangered every house within reach, but the eager watchers who crouched in their hiding-places on either side of the harbour-mouth, finger on trigger, were not rewarded by the entrance of any hostile boats. Very naturally they imagined more than once that they saw some, and in defiance of orders, fired several shots before they realised that their eyes had deceived them, and this gave admirable scope for mutual recrimination when it was afterwards discussed who had frightened the enemy away. Wylie stood alone as an exponent of the highly unpopular theory that the Roumi prisoner had deliberately deceived his captors by inducing them to light a fire on the headland, which he knew was the prearranged signal denoting danger instead of safety. An indignant deputation at once invaded the cottage in which the prisoner was quartered, but he had saved the situation by dying of his wounds, and the secret thus lost was unanimously voted not to exist. The skill and foresight of Prince Romanos had prepared a signal defeat for the enemy, which had not taken place solely because of the impatience or nervousness of some excited patriots. These took the first opportunity of cleaning their rifles and inserting fresh cartridges, so that the accusation of having fired was bandied about with a fine impartiality based upon the conviction that it could never be brought home to any one in particular.

This belief that Prince Romanos had guided the insurgents within measurable distance of a decisive triumph--missed only through the precipitate action of some persons unknown--smoothed his path when he unfolded his views the next day. He asked for volunteers for coast work, and the whole force desired to enrol themselves under his banner, leaving Wylie in the rather undignified position of a commander without any soldiers. With much tact Prince Romanos pointed out that he could accept only recruits who had practical experience in managing boats, and in this way he weeded out all but the fishermen of the peninsula and such of the mainland refugees as came from the coast. Still, even this reduction followed a curiously marked line.

“I suppose you see,” said Wylie to Maurice, as he looked over his lists, “that we are practically left with the Slavs, while all the Greeks have followed Christodoridi? It’s just the old cleavage over again.”

“That’s bad. How has he managed it?”

“It didn’t want much management--I must do him the justice to say that. It comes simply from the geographical distribution of the people--the Slavs generally north and inland, the Greeks in most cases south and on the coast. It’s natural enough that the Greeks should be the fishing people, and I suppose it’s merely a coincidence that he has fixed on them.”

“We can hardly stipulate that either you or I should be always about with him, to make sure that he doesn’t use the position for his own advantage,” said Maurice, answering the doubt suggested by Wylie’s manner rather than his words.

“No, you gave up all possibility of that when you handed him over a share in the enterprise practically without conditions. By your new way of conducting family feuds he has as much right to lead as you have.”

“We are both under you,” said Maurice quickly. “You are Commander-in-Chief, and Christodoridi’s department of coast defence is entirely subordinate to you at headquarters.”

“I must show it by calling up the men for drill on convenient days. I have an idea that their alacrity in volunteering for him was not unconnected with the prospect of a blissful future in which every man would fight as he liked. But it may be necessary any day to get all our forces together. I hear this morning that a Roumi detachment has occupied Ahmed Pasha,”--this was the village on the mainland nearest to Karakula and the isthmus. “Very likely they intended a simultaneous attack on Karakula and Ephestilo, but now they may prefer to advance in force by land.”

In spite of this forward movement, however, the Roumi authorities were singularly tardy in taking any decisive step. Such news as filtered through to the insurgent headquarters ascribed the delay to intrigues at Czarigrad and to the divided councils of the Powers. Europe was united, it seemed, in coercing the insurgents, since the British warships blockading the Skandalo side of the peninsula were now reinforced by those of other nations, but it could not decide to what extent the Roumi Government was to be allowed a free hand. This respite was of service in allowing Prince Romanos to organise his scheme of defence, though it was dangerous owing to the steady consumption of provisions, which there were no means of replacing. In this particular also Prince Romanos proved himself useful. He had fixed his headquarters at Skandalo, and he discovered that the wary townspeople were contriving to make the best of both worlds by despatching secretly boat-loads of fresh provisions to the blockading ships. It could hardly be doubted that news was conveyed in the same way, and amid the loudly expressed opposition of the inhabitants, Prince Romanos requisitioned all the craft belonging to the town for the service of the Constitutional Assembly, and bought up all the provisions in store, and also the growing crops. The shopkeepers, seeing themselves deprived of the high prices which they had been in the habit of obtaining, were very angry, and the cultivators, who had sold their vegetables to the insurgents with the artless intention of selling them over again to the fleets, resented hotly their fields and gardens being placed under guard, but the leakage was stopped. Moreover, the fishermen scouts brought in now and then accessions of strength,--a boat-load of sympathisers from various countries, anxious to offer the remainder of their (generally discreditable) lives as a sacrifice upon the altar of Emathian freedom, or a collection of guns and ammunition--the ammunition never by any chance fitting the guns--which had been subscribed for by revolutionary circles in continental capitals, and brought thus far on its way by means of lavish bribery of Roumi officials. They obtained news also, through the accredited agents of Professor Panagiotis, who was working heroically with pen and telegraph to impress upon Europe the importance of the Hagiamavran experiment, and to discount in advance the failure which most people predicted for it. He adjured the insurgents to maintain their position at all costs. Europe was already at a loss to know how to deal with them, and the situation must become intolerable if it lasted much longer. Some of the Powers were already threatening to withdraw from the Concert unless more stringent measures were adopted, which the others would not allow, and the brightest hope for the future lay in the prospect that they would carry out their threat. Till then the insurgents had only to hold their ground, repelling all blandishments on the part of the Consuls or other representatives of the Powers, refusing any concessions from Roum, no matter how ample, that were offered without a European guarantee, and above all, remaining absolutely united.

This last counsel of perfection was the more difficult to follow that a distinct difference of opinion was beginning to make itself felt in the deliberations of the leaders. Prince Romanos was claiming--with studied moderation, but still as a right--the power of initiating minor operations without referring every detail to Maurice at the monastery and Wylie wherever he might happen to be. There were so many small triumphs possible, as he justly said,--such as cutting off a picket of Roumi soldiers, or waylaying a boat from the mainland on its way to the fleet and forcibly buying up its freight of provisions,--which would serve to raise the spirits of his men, but the opportunity for which would be lost were he compelled to send and ask leave before starting. Maurice hesitated to sanction these measures, considering that the comparative leniency of the Powers, in “keeping a ring” for the insurgents and seeing that the Roumis fought fair, demanded that the insurgents should abstain from aggressive movements in return. They ought to confine themselves to the defence of the peninsula, and not attack either Roumi soil on the mainland or Roumi vessels outside Hagiamavran waters. Wylie shook his head when this theory was broached in his hearing.

“Won’t work,” he said. “We can’t afford to stick to these rocks merely as a moral object-lesson for Europe. Provisions are running out, Armitage is probably hovering round outside the warships, trying to nose his way in, and can’t do it, and if we go on passively resisting we shall simply be starved out. Even a temporary foothold on Roumi territory means a chance of adding to our stores.”

“But it also means a larger area to guard,” objected Maurice.

“Do the men good. They are getting fed up with the notion that they know all that there is to be known of drill, and are practically invincible. They are growing stale from too much contemplation of their own military virtues. A few small affairs, in which they would get just a little knocked about, would do them all the good in the world, and possibly avert the general stampede which would be a moral certainty if the Roumis attacked us in force to-day with artillery.”

“But the Powers,” persisted Maurice. “They have really displayed remarkable forbearance, and to prejudice our cause in their eyes by acts of aggression----”

“Prince,” said Wylie solemnly, “make no mistake. You can’t prejudice your cause in the eyes of the Powers, because it is already damned beyond redemption as far as three of them are concerned. You want a free and independent Emathia and they don’t. They don’t venture to deal with you themselves, because they are horribly jealous of one another, and they have a haunting fear that England might suddenly go mad and do something rash and high-sounding if they attempted anything like the partition of Poland over again too soon. But they mean to see you cleared out, and by fair means or foul they’ll do it. To sit still and wait will only prolong the agony. Let ’em see you’ve got teeth and will die game.”

“But if we die, we want our dying to do some good for Emathia,” said Maurice.

“Well, and it will do more good to die fighting than preserving a correct moral attitude on a pedestal. We have the shadow of a chance one way, none the other. Not to mention that you can’t play Christodoridi’s game better than by holding the men back when they want to fight.”

“What is his game--your view of it, I mean?”

“To make himself prince and marry your sister.”

The unhesitating reply surprised Maurice. “But Zoe won’t have anything to say to him,” he objected.

“I hope she will.” Wylie said it with the grim determination of the man who prides himself on rising superior to his own feelings. “If he brings off the other part of the programme, of course, that is. Sort of compensation to you for cutting you out, don’t you see? Awfully good for him, too. She would keep him in hand--might even make something of him.”

“I don’t doubt it’s being good for him, but it would be misery for her. She won’t do it. Why, there was that girl at Bashi Konak--the maid-of-honour. He flirted with her under Zoe’s very eyes. That’s not the kind of thing a woman forgets in a hurry.”

“You know more about women than I do, no doubt--better opportunities. The question is whether Christodoridi doesn’t know even more than you. At any rate, I’ve told you what he’s got in his head, and you’ll see that I am correct.”

“I don’t believe the beggar has the cheek,” said Maurice, unconvinced, but a few days later he was reluctantly compelled to acknowledge that Wylie was in all probability right. It was early morning, and the party at the monastery were at breakfast in the gallery, Maurice and Wylie taking the meal in haste between a surprise inspection of the nearest camp and a long tramp over the hills which formed the backbone of the peninsula, to examine the defences behind Karakula. Up to the monastery gate came the thud of soft-shod running feet, and a panting voice summoned the guards to open. A struggle seemed to follow upon the opening, but the runner, a lithe young Greek, wriggled through his opponents and flung himself up the steps. At the top he drew himself up and bowed courteously all round.

“A message and a gift for the Lady Zoe from the Lord Romanos,” he said, and paused impressively. From the folds of his shirt he drew out something scarlet and white in a crumpled mass, then shook it out with the dexterity of a conjuror, and exhibited a Roumi flag. “Last night it waved over the quarters of the Roumi commander at Ahmed Pasha. This morning it is at the feet of the Lady Zoe,” and he spread it proudly on the ground before her.

Much against her will, Zoe felt her colour rise as she stooped to look at it. She glanced at Wylie with something of defiance. “It’s rather large for a handkerchief, and rather small for a tablecloth, isn’t it?” she said, with exaggerated flippancy. To her utter disgust, Wylie answered her only by a frown and an instant endeavour to remove the bad impression she had made.

“Did Prince Christodoridi himself secure this trophy?” he asked, forcing a corner of the flag into her reluctant fingers. The messenger, who had been watching with distinct animosity Zoe’s reception of the offering, brightened again at once.

“It is more than a trophy; it is a token,” he replied. “This morning the Imperial Eagle flies over Ahmed Pasha, in the place of that dishonoured rag.”

“What! Prince Christodoridi has taken the village?” cried Maurice. The messenger swelled with pride.

“With the noble Prince as leader, we stole upon the place last night in three bands, and took the Roumi dogs by surprise. The village is now free from them.”

“How many prisoners?” asked Wylie sharply.

“None, lord. It was a sharp fight, a fight to a finish.”

“I hope it’s all right,” said Wylie to Maurice in English. “We don’t want prisoners, certainly, but I know these fellows’ ways. Did the Prince capture the tower of Segreti at the same time?” he asked the messenger, alluding to an old Venetian fortification near the village, which had been used as a citadel by the Roumis.

“Nay, lord, the noise of the fighting warned the garrison, and we could not take them by surprise. But the Lord Romanos is even now directing the digging of a trench which is to cut off their water-supply, and then the tower also will fall into our hands.”

“We will visit Prince Christodoridi this morning, and congratulate him on his success,” said Maurice. “You can take the day for rest, and return to him in the evening.”

“Nay, lord, I will return at once, and inform the Prince that you and the Lord Glafko will visit him,” was the reply, and refusing all offers of refreshment, the messenger set out at once. Maurice and Wylie followed on mules, noticing as they went the ferment caused by the news of the capture of the Roumi post. Their own men were crestfallen and resentful, the Greeks flushed with triumph. The old schism was present in a form comparatively harmless, but capable of being grievously accentuated, for the wildest tales of spoil and slaughter, springing from seed casually flung by the messenger on his way, were circulating everywhere, and the Slavs were asking why they had not been allowed their share. Arrived at the isthmus, they found Karakula practically deserted, its garrison having marched in a body to Ahmed Pasha in hope of loot.

“Pretty thing if the Roumis had landed now!” said Wylie grimly. “Christodoridi and half our force cut off outside our boundaries, and Karakula undefended. I’ll stay here and beat up what recruits I can, Prince, while you go on and fetch the fellows back.”

Maurice went on, to be greeted by a few stray shots from the ramparts of Segreti, and to find the work of cutting off the water-supply at a standstill, the men refusing to dig until they had thoroughly ransacked the village. Prince Romanos met him in a state of mind compounded of pride and disgust. His force was now engaged in testing walls and turning up the ground round the houses, to discover where the inhabitants had concealed their hoards, and the triumph of the night might at any moment be turned into disaster if the garrison of Segreti should pluck up sufficient courage to make a sortie. Together the two leaders beat up a band of the men most amenable to reason, and sent them back to reinforce Wylie, and then they set to work to collect the rest and post them in the positions that were capable of defence, since it was hardly probable that Jalal-ud-din would meekly accept the transformation of Ahmed Pasha from an outpost of his own to one of the enemy’s. Wylie must come and decide what works ought to be constructed, and how far it was possible to overawe the defenders of Segreti by fire from the village while their water-supply was diverted, and Maurice foresaw that he would probably wish to take up his quarters at Ahmed Pasha for the present, if the village was to be held. Maurice himself inclined to the belief that it would be wiser to withdraw from it, but Prince Romanos could not bear to think of surrending the fruits of his victory, and they argued the matter as they went back towards Karakula. As they approached the village, Wylie met them, and turned the current of their thoughts.

“There’s a boat coming in with a flag of truce--a steam-pinnace from the fleet,” he said. “It’s a good thing you are both on the spot. I have got together a guard for you.”

They walked down towards the shore and watched the boat approach. An officer in commander’s uniform and a dragoman disembarked and picked their way across the rocks, with some loss of dignity, followed by six fully-armed seamen.

“Can hardly be an offer of terms,” said Wylie. “The boat has her gun trained on us, too.”

Arrived on level ground, the commander paused, evidently waiting to be addressed. Maurice advanced. “You are the bearer of a communication from the Admirals, sir?” he asked.

“I am, sir,” snapped the officer, whose temper had clearly suffered from the method of landing. “I am to inquire whether you think the Powers have sent their fleets here to enable you and your followers to behave with impunity as savages?”

“I know of nothing that could lead you to imagine that we thought so,” replied Maurice.

“Not your achievement of last night? But perhaps you are not aware that one witness escaped your infamous massacre?”

“I know of no massacre. If you are alluding to the capture of Ahmed Pasha, I believe we have as much right to take villages from the Roumis as they have to try and take ours.”

“But not to refuse quarter when it is asked for, and to murder sick men in cold blood. The Admirals give you fair warning that upon the first repetition of such barbarities, they will bombard Skandalo and all your coast villages, and sink every craft on the coast. Also----”

“Wait, if you please,” said Maurice. “The Admirals are condemning us unheard. I am willing to give every facility for an inquiry. This is the first I have heard of these outrages, and I can only hope it is not true.”

“Ask your people and see if they will deny it!” cried the ambassador. “If you choose to associate yourself with such a crew, you must take the responsibility for their peculiar views of fighting. In future you will be good enough to understand that the Powers will permit no further aggressions on Roumi territory, and will interfere if they are attempted.”

“Are we to understand that the Powers will also prohibit any Roumi aggression on our territory?”

“No, sir, you are not to understand anything of the kind. The Powers are about tired of your impudence in calling the peninsula yours, and it will give them great pleasure to see the rightful owners in possession of it again.” This time the dragoman was the speaker, somewhat to the disgust of his companion, who gave him a withering look, but he was not to be silenced. “We have warned you, and if you continue to resist, we shall see your blood upon your own heads!” he cried.

“I presume that I may report to the Admirals that I delivered my message to Prince Theophanis in person?” said the naval man.

“You may, sir, and also that I protested against their saddling me with crimes of which I had not the smallest knowledge. The matter shall be looked into.”

The parties separated with bows and mutual ill-humour, the sailors ostentatiously taking turns to cover the retreat of the ambassadors for fear of treachery.

“Then the man did escape!” said Prince Romanos thoughtfully.

Maurice turned on him. “Then there was an organised attempt to leave no witnesses, and you connived at it?”

“We never give quarter to Roumis,” was the frank reply. “It is not our custom, and never has been, and if you had been born in Eastern Europe, Prince, you would understand why. They give none to us. About the sick men I don’t understand; they must have fired at us, for all the men I saw killed were armed.”

“And the killing of the wounded--you saw that?”

“No; I told the men to make all safe, while I secured the flag. When I came down from the roof they told me they were afraid one man had escaped, and we searched everywhere, but could not find him.”

“Then the wounded were killed?” said Maurice.

“Of course. But it was not as if their wounds were slight,” said Prince Romanos eagerly. “They would have died in any case.”