Chapter VI: The Red Gods Call

“Are you in a tremendous hurry? Could you spare me a minute or two?” Armitage rose from the seat in the orange walk and intercepted Zoe on her way to the terrace.

“Oh yes. I was only going to wait for Princess Emilia. Is anything the matter?”

“Oh, nothing much. Only that I want to tell you something, and after that--well, I suppose I shan’t trouble you again.”

“You mustn’t be so doleful,” said Zoe, in her elder-sisterly way. “If there is anything wrong, you know that every one of us would do all we could to help you. It’s nothing about the yacht, is it? She hasn’t gone on shore?”

“_No!_” he burst out with great vehemence. “What do I care about the yacht, except to help your brother with? It’s you--and that Christodoridi chap.”

“Really,” said Zoe, half laughing, half angry, “I shall have to be rude to that young man in public, if he persists in worrying me as he does. Maurice thought fit to ask me this morning why I always had him hanging about, and now you! The general opinion of my taste must be painfully low.”

“No one imagines you could like a theatrical fool like that,” said Armitage, somewhat comforted; “but for political reasons, you know. The Professor--and your sister----”

“Neither the Professor nor Eirene will ever make me accept any one for political reasons, though they are quite likely to try. I should have thought you knew me better than to think so.” It did not occur to Zoe that the kindly reproach in her voice was dangerous, for Armitage had been a silent adorer for so long that she had learnt to regard him as that most pleasant and useful possession--a safe friend. But he interrupted her now, his eager, boyish voice full of feeling.

“You don’t see. It’s just because I know what you are--know how a good woman loves to sacrifice herself for other people. And that fellow could never make you happy.”

“No, he certainly could not. But don’t be afraid, he doesn’t want to try. As far as I can tell, he only haunts me because it makes him feel uncomfortable to find one woman who is proof against his fascinations.”

“The conceited brute!” cried Armitage explosively. “Let me deal with him, Princess. I promise you he won’t fancy himself so much when I’ve taken him in hand.”

“Probably not. But I am quite able to protect myself, thank you, and I have Maurice to appeal to.”

“Ah, but it wouldn’t look well for him to come to blows with his rival,” said Armitage, with unexpected shrewdness. “I don’t signify, you see. And if you would just give me the right, I could polish him off before starting, and you would be free from him while I was gone.”

“Starting! Why, where are you going?”

“Oh, that business over there,” jerking his head vaguely in the direction of Therma. “Will you? You can’t think how much easier it would make my mind.”

Zoe looked at him quizzically, still unaware of the gravity of the occasion. “What a boy you are!” she said, as she had often said before. “You really force me to ask you why you can’t pick a quarrel with him--not that I want you to,” hastily; “in fact, I forbid it--without a mandate from me.”

“Because I wouldn’t quarrel with a brute like that--especially about a lady. But if I could say to him, ‘Princess Zoe is engaged to me, and if I catch you bothering her any more, you had better look out----’ why, either he takes a back seat, or I kick him for a cad.”

“But I am not engaged to you,” said Zoe involuntarily.

“No, but I want you to be. I have cared for you an awfully long time, and you have always been frightfully good to me. I don’t bore you as much as some people, do I?--not as much as he does, at any rate? Couldn’t you think of it?”

“I really couldn’t.” Zoe was hardly able to regard this very unconventional proposal as serious, but she managed to speak without a smile. “I should need something more in a man than that he didn’t bore me--a good deal more. In fact, I should need so much that I shall never marry at all.”

“If you would only try me!” he pleaded. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to please you.”

“Except what you can’t do, and that is to grow up,” was on the tip of Zoe’s tongue, but she crushed it down nobly. “I am very sorry,” she said, with finality, “but it’s quite impossible. I have never given you any reason----”

“I know you haven’t.” His eagerness to justify her brought the tears to Zoe’s eyes. “It was all my fault. Only it seemed, you know, as if---- But I was a fool. You’ll let things be as they were before, won’t you, when I come back? Then I’ll go off with Wylie, and knock about a bit----”

“Colonel Wylie? Is he going too? What is it for?”

“Well, we aren’t exactly supposed--I oughtn’t to have----”

“You must tell me now. Where are you going?”

“I am to take Wylie round in the yacht to a place called Skandalo, from which you can get to Hagiamavra, where these Emathian fellows are establishing an insurgent stronghold. He goes as your brother’s representative, to see what can be done, and what chance there is of success. If there’s none, he might be able to get them to disband before the Roumis have time to move troops to attack them, but they seem pretty confident. Panagiotis had a message yesterday evening to say that they were ready, so we’re off to-night.”

“But is there danger?” gasped Zoe.

“Ought to be none. I wish there was any chance of it.”

“But after his fever. There is sure to be exposure----”

“Oh, for Wylie, you mean. It is still Wylie, then?”

“You have no right to say that----” began Zoe warmly, but her tone changed. “No, why should I be ashamed to confess it? It is, and it always will be.”

“Couldn’t be a better man,” said Armitage, with settled depression. “I always knew that if he was against me I hadn’t the ghost of a chance. But why I asked was, that I thought I might look after him a little for you--see that he didn’t do rash things, you know.”

“If you would!” murmured Zoe. “But you will never, never let him guess why you are doing it?”

“He’ll put me down as a disgusting meddler, I know, but I can stand it. You can feel he has a deputy guardian angel to look after him, as you can’t be there yourself.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” said Zoe, giving him her hand; “but I do thank you. Oh, there is Princess Emilia looking for me on the terrace! She must have come up the other way.”

She hurried up the steps, leaving Armitage to return mournfully to the solitude of the marble bench, and try to rearrange his outlook on life in view of the change the last half-hour had made in it. Presently a dark shadow paused on the pounded marble of the walk, and looking up, he found the Dowager Princess contemplating with some surprise the interloper who had taken possession of her favourite seat. He sprang up in confusion, and would have departed in haste, with many apologies, if she had not graciously desired him to sit down again. The invitation did not place him altogether at his ease, since he was well aware of the Princess’s diplomatic reputation; but fearing that she might intend to worm some of his friends’ secrets from him, he determined to be intensely careful, and if possible to go so far in Machiavellian astuteness as even to penetrate the designs of his interlocutor. He had an uncomfortable feeling that she had probably decided to attack him as the easiest of the party to pump, and he tried to con over hastily all the points on which caution was necessary. But there was nothing dangerously political about the Princess’s first remark, uttered with a sympathetic smile.

“I see you find this a soothing spot, Lord Armitage, as I do. I have brought many troubles here--many perplexities, too, in the days when I was my husband’s chief counsellor, and Dardania was threatened by enemies on every side. Mine has not been a very happy life, but at least I can look with satisfaction on the Dardania of to-day, the only contented state in the Balkans. Some of the credit ought to be given to this quiet seat. I hope it has proved helpful to you also?”

“Well, hardly. Perhaps I haven’t tried it long enough,” said Armitage, rather at a loss.

“You can see no light on your difficulties? And yet I fancy your Princess feels more kindly towards you than you think.”

Armitage started involuntarily. “She has confided in you, madame?” he asked, feeling his way.

“Not directly, but there are ways of judging. Only a person totally devoid of discrimination could imagine that she found pleasure in the attentions of Prince Romanos.”

“I know she hates the sight of him!” Armitage thought it safe to reply.

“And yet it is only too likely that she may be forced to marry him. Her ambitious sister-in-law----”

“Princess Theophanis can’t make her marry him against her will, madame.”

“It is not only the Princess; the force of circumstances may compel her. If her brother attains his object, she must make a marriage that will strengthen his position. The man may or may not be young Christodoridi, but it will certainly not be you.”

“No, I suppose not,” he murmured, less crushed than if he had not already heard the same hard truth from Zoe herself.

“But take courage. I have a foreboding--I do not think that Maurice Theophanis will ever be Prince of Emathia.”

“Do you mean that there’s a plot, madame?”

“Oh no, not a plot. I merely advise you not to lose hope. The matter came to my knowledge confidentially, so that I can hardly---- Still, you are not likely to betray me, so why should I not allow you the consolation of watching for the event which will ensure the fulfilment of your hopes?”

“I can’t promise not to make use of any warning you may give me, madame.” Armitage was more mystified than ever. The Princess laughed.

“If I thought you an honest, quixotic fool, Lord Armitage, should I tell you? Well, then, your Prince, with the prudence and caution so characteristic of him, proposes to send his follower, Colonel Wylie, to discover whether the Emathian insurrection is sufficiently widespread, well-supported--safe, in fact--to justify him in extending to it the patronage of his name. Prince Romanos, on the other hand, presents himself among the insurgents as one of themselves, asking only to be allowed to fight and die in their ranks. Which is likely to commend himself most to their favour?”

Armitage’s face was a study while she spoke. Amazement at the matter-of-course way in which Wylie’s secret mission was mentioned, followed by indignation at the slur thrown on Maurice, was again succeeded by surprise at her announcement of the intentions of Prince Romanos.

“You mean that Christodoridi will disappear from here to throw in his lot with the insurgents, madame?”

“At very nearly the same hour to-night as your Colonel Wylie, and for the same reason. They are both considerate enough to wish not to compromise my son, and therefore both will attend the farewell reception of the athletes, and then slip away quietly. Colonel Wylie may be a perfect paladin, but I think you may assure yourself that the man who goes among his future subjects in person is more likely to be chosen than the one who sends his servant.”

Armitage assented mechanically, while the Princess went on--

“Therefore, as I say, you may be cheerful. It is not likely to occur to Prince Theophanis to go to Hagiamavra himself, and you will not put it into his head. I am rather surprised that his wife has not insisted upon it already, but perhaps he has kept her in the dark. You must be most careful not to let her suspect anything to-day, for your face is eloquent of tremendous news. I can’t advise you too strongly not to say anything to her about Emathia or Hagiamavra, for she would guess at once that you were concealing something, and she has force of character enough to hurry her husband off this evening. But I need not tell you to be careful.”

She watched his face narrowly. The risk she had taken was great,--though she had calculated upon her reading of Armitage’s character,--but she saw she had succeeded. He might accept information from this intruder, but not advice. She smiled contentedly when he made the excuse of urgent business to take his departure. Even if he had not spent some minutes in conversation elaborately designed to divert her mind from the previous subject, she could have read in his disturbed expression the thoughts that were chasing each other through his brain:--“I must put her off the scent, mustn’t let her see that I believe it. After all, it mayn’t be true. Must see if there’s anything to confirm it before I tell anybody.”

That evening Wylie was busy in the room which was nominally a sanctum for Armitage and himself, but served in reality as a council-chamber when Eirene’s presence was not desired. He was dressed for the Prince of Dardania’s reception, but his luggage was ready packed, and his riding clothes were laid out in the bedroom adjoining. Presently Maurice came in, and his follower looked up from the money-belt he was filling, and nodded.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you are letting me prospect around a little before throwing yourself into this thing,” he said, when his calculations were over.

“My wife doesn’t like it at all,” returned Maurice gloomily. “She thinks I am letting slip a golden opportunity.”

“Let her think!” was the uncourteous reply. “If she hasn’t learnt yet that it’s safer to prove the statements of Panagiotis and his friends before acting on them, you and I have.”

“Maurice!” It was Eirene who stood before them, wrapped in a loose gown, and with her hair only partially dressed. “We must all start for Hagiamavra to-night. Romanos Christodoridi is going!”

“He can’t. He knows nothing about it,” said Wylie.

“There has been treachery. He has bribed some one. Lord Armitage heard the first rumour of it this morning, and has spent the day in discovering the truth. Prince Romanos has horses ready after the reception, and a fast sailing-boat waiting for him at Pentikosti. Lord Armitage came to look for you, Maurice, but you were not in your rooms, and I opened the letter and spoke to him. I have sent him now to get horses for us.”

“You sent him! Without telling me?”

“Yes.” Eirene’s voice was hard. “Because, if you will not go, I shall take Constantine and go by myself, with Colonel Wylie in attendance. I have thought it all out. You have loitered and delayed and preached prudence too long. I will not have my boy’s rights sacrificed through your precautions.”

“If you will allow me, sir, I will leave the room to the Princess and yourself,” said Wylie to Maurice, with marked respect. Eirene turned upon him.

“You will kindly remain,” she said. “I wish you to be a witness of what I say to the Prince. You understand me, Maurice? If you will act, I go as your wife; if you refuse, I go to assert my own claim. In either case Constantine’s rights are secured. They can only be lost through cowardice, and I, at least, am not a coward. I have the means of acting without you, you know.”

“I do know it, unfortunately. You have every advantage over me. Short of placing you under personal restraint, I can’t hope to influence you.”

“And that you would never do!” she said triumphantly.

“That I would not do. You are determined not to listen to reason?”

“I will listen to any argument in favour of starting to-night, to none for putting things off.”

“Very well, then. As you have guessed, I shall not allow my wife to start on this preposterous expedition by herself, to assert a claim which stands or falls with mine. We will go together, but the claim which will be put forward is not yours, but mine. Such rights as the boy has are derived from me--reinforced, if you like, by yours. You understand this?”

“I don’t mind what conditions you make, provided that you go,” she answered, with a laugh that was nervous in spite of her effort to make it merely light.

“Pardon me, sir. May I remind her Royal Highness of one or two things she seems to have forgotten?” asked Wylie. A nod gave him permission, and he went on, “Are you wise, ma’am, in risking the health, perhaps even the life, of your son in the way you propose? The journey to Pentikosti is a difficult one, even for men, and at Hagiamavra the hardships will be considerable. You can take no other woman with you, and no heavy luggage.”

“You have done your duty to your master by trying to frighten me,” she returned defiantly; “but I am not frightened.”

“And it does not occur to you that this expedition will irritate the Powers against his Highness to such an extent as to make him an impossible candidate in future?”

“Then Prince Romanos will be equally impossible. No, the Prince may go or not, as he likes, but I go. The horses will be ready at eleven o’clock, which will give us time to change our clothes after the reception, if we leave fairly early. I am sorry to keep you waiting now, Maurice. I shall be ready in ten minutes.”

“I suppose you are compassionating me as a henpecked wretch?” said Maurice bitterly, as Wylie closed the door after Eirene.

“If I advised you to take your wife by the shoulders and give her a good shaking, you would set me down as a brute, and I don’t know that it would do much good,” said Wylie.

“Not a bit. I always knew something of this kind was bound to happen. You see, there’s no question about my having robbed her of her rights, and I am bound to back her up in recovering them. I have never been able to satisfy her in that way yet, and of course she thinks me slack.”

“Why not offer to go yourself if she and the child will stay quietly here?”

“Quietly? What would she be doing here--can you say? You know the way in which that money was left----”

“I know; it’s rough on you every way. Makes a man glad to have escaped matrimony so far,” said Wylie. “But if I had to deal with that young woman, she would soon learn to behave herself!” was his self-sufficient mental remark, for which a speedy Nemesis was already lying in wait for him.

The night was very dark when, armed with a lantern, he awaited his fellow-travellers at a side door. In spite of the care taken not to compromise him, the Prince of Dardania was fully aware that something was going on, and had issued orders to his officials not to be too inquisitive with respect to any horsemen leaving the city. But it was not considered advisable to ride through the principal streets, and run the risk of encountering belated guests coming from the Palace, so that every possible advantage was to be taken of lanes and byways. Armitage, laden with saddle-bags and hold-alls till he could scarcely walk, came staggering through the doorway, whispering that the rest were close at hand; and presently Maurice appeared, with little Constantine, wrapped up like an infant mummy, in his arms, and two women close upon his heels. Wylie stepped forward with natural indignation.

“You can’t go,” he said, stopping the taller of the two. “The Princess knows she is not to take a maid.”

“She is not taking me, but I am going,” said Zoe’s voice. Wylie still barred the path.

“No, you’re not. There’s no horse for you.”

Zoe laughed. “You mustn’t rate our intelligence quite so low. Eirene knew I should come, and asked Lord Armitage to get a horse for me. I think myself you are making a mistake in not letting us take my good Linton, who has gone through all sorts of horrors with me without turning a hair, but she will be ready to join us with supplies whenever I wire to her.”

“But you can’t go. It’s quite impossible. It’s--it’s useless. The Princess goes to assert her rights, and she has her husband to protect her, but you have no one to look after you.” Wylie was growing desperate.

“I am very much obliged to you,” said Zoe, with meaning in her voice. “Still, I can assure you that if both you and Lord Armitage turn your backs on me, I am quite capable of looking after myself.”

“Oh, look here, Princess,” he said, in a tone that startled Zoe, so long was it since she had heard it, “don’t bring the whole thing to smash, I beg of you. You stay behind, like a--like a sensible woman, and persuade your sister to stay too. You forget that your brother and I know something already about dragging ladies through the wilds of Emathia, and we don’t want to try it again. And to take women and children when there’s a prospect of fighting Roumis--it’s unthinkable, simply sickening folly. Now you will go back?”

His earnestness was quite pathetic, but Zoe hardened her heart. “If you ask me as a friend, I will,” she said.

Wylie recollected himself. “No, I won’t--ma’am,” he said angrily.

“Then I won’t go back,” said Zoe.