I hold it true, whate'er befall, I feel it when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost, Than never to have loved at all. —Tennyson: In Memoriam.
"Thou art the man!"
Could I believe the evidence of my senses? The Princess Teskla was pointing at the Prince!
General Palmora, Nicholas and I knew that the Prince had nothing to do with the affair in the garden. The King's intention was clear. He was only pushing to a happy conclusion his cherished scheme to wed his daughter to the head of the new reigning house, and thus keep the succession in his own family. His daughter had caused him to believe that the Prince was a favoured suitor. That knowledge may have led him to abdicate in favour of his hated brother's son. His plot had been deep laid, and it seemed that, aided by his unscrupulous daughter, it must succeed. But why had she, loving Nicholas as I thought, denied that affection? Was it for fear of her father's wrath? The truth would make a fool of him before all the kingdom. Or did she think that her outraged father, when he learned the truth, would consider Nicholas unfit to mate with a princess and urge his exile or death in blind rage?
I grew weak at the terrible shock and breathed a prayer for the safety of the poor, little, kneeling woman in white at the feet of the Patriarch. What would she do? How make answer to the unjust accusation?
Then the enormity of the situation burst upon me. If she submitted to the law and married the Princess, discovery of her sex by Teskla and death at the hands of the outraged Church were sure. If she dragged her skirts from the detaining grip of the law, and admitted her womanhood to escape this marriage, death sure and swift lurked there. Incited by the Patriarch and the black and white clergy, the mob without the Cathedral and the nobles within would rend her limb from limb.
But could I do nothing to save her? I, too, was a witness; an unseen one it is true, but nevertheless a witness. If I told the truth, would my word be believed against the statements of the King and his Prime Minister? How would I be able to prove that I was present, sitting upon the wall of the Palace garden when the event took place?
If I came forward with my story, Nicholas, I felt sure, would tell the truth. But Nick was my friend, the one man in all the world I loved and would die for. Surely something was due him from me. If he chose to keep silent would I be acting the part of a friend if I forced him to speak?
There was also General Palmora. He had declared himself a witness to the "defilement" of Princess Teskla, under Nick's caress. Now that events had taken such an unexpected turn, would he hold to his position or tell the truth? There might be reasons of state which would influence him to remain silent or even deny my statement. He was pure Bharbazonian, and I could not trust him to act where the interests of his country were involved.
I felt that I stood alone. Clearly, this was neither the time nor the place for me, a foreigner, to interfere in an affair which the nobles would consider did not concern me. There was a way of escape for Solonika. She had but to accept the issue temporarily. If the King demanded an immediate marriage, she could stand upon her right to request a reasonable delay. He could not deny her that. As soon as the coronation ceremony was over, I could easily have her prove that she was not present in Nischon at the time the King and his witnesses would set. Palmora would then be forced to speak, and Nicholas would have time to get out of the jurisdiction. I could best serve Solonika and my friend Nicholas by inaction at this time. The way was not so dark. There was one avenue of escape.
The church was thrown into confusion by the dénouement. Everybody talked at once and no voice was raised to restore order. The women were more wildly excited than the men. Grand Duke Marbosa was whispering to the nobles behind him. Was he, too, preparing to strike? The Prince had been discredited, but, if this proposed alliance of the two houses were effected, the Prince would grow too strong for him.
The General had his hand on Nick's shoulder. He was tugging nervously at his heavy moustache, but was not speaking. Both he and Nick were looking at Princess Teskla who was facing Nick with her arms at her side; only the presence of the people seemed to keep her from running to him for protection. She had done all that love could do for him. The King was as highly pleased at the result of his plan, as he had appeared in the garden when Teskla lied to him. The Red Fox's face was a study. He stood with one arm covering his eyes, as if to shut out the sight of his brother's face, and the other extended to the high altar toward his child.
"My son! my son!" he kept calling, just as he did in his library when he strove to remind her of her rôle of Prince.
But, even before I decided upon my course of action, events were going forward which took the solution out of my hands for ever. I can now see that the situation appeared in a totally different light to Solonika, ignorant as she was of the truth. She must have felt that she was being trapped; that discovery was sure; that there was no solution.
When the full import of Princess Teskla's words came home to her, Solonika crumpled up at the feet of the Patriarch. Her courage left her. She clutched his sandalled ankles in abject terror. She did not seem to notice her father's cry of "My son." I feared that she had given up in despair.
"Courage, Solonika!" I shouted, loud enough for her to hear, knowing that the import of my words would not be understood in the babel around us.
She did hear me. Almost before the cry left my throat she raised her head and looked straight into my eyes. Oh, the suffering and appeal in them. I have never seen and hope never to see again a look like that in eyes of any one I love. I smiled with encouragement and tried to telegraph the hope that was in me. I fancied she understood and I mistook the expression that passed over her face as one of resolve.
Her old courage seemed to return and, with it, full control of herself. She arose and stared down at me in her old dignified, regal manner. She was once more the brave Solonika who had sung "Down among the Dead Men" in Marbosa's lodge. I no longer feared for her, for I thought her able to meet this, the greatest crisis of her life. She came down from the high altar, unrestrained by the motionless Patriarch. I watched her drawing near to Princess Teskla who shrank away in fear.
"I could not help it, Cousin Raoul," cried Teskla, cowering before her.
"Thou art a liar," said Solonika without a look in her direction. She came through the railing, passed her father who tried to clutch her arm, and stood before Nicholas. Could it be possible that she knew? That she intended to force Nicholas to speak in her defence? If so, I could help her with my pleading. I crossed the intervening space and joined them.
"Nicholas Fremsted," she was saying solemnly in English. I was appalled at her colourless voice. It was as if she believed she had been sentenced to death. "You told me once you loved my sister Solonika. I, her brother, ask now that you do something for me. It is as though Solonika asked it of you, herself. Will you do it?"
"He will, Your Highness. I will answer for him," I said.
"Then, listen. At this moment your automobile stands at the Cathedral door. Go, order your man to start his engines and be ready to move at a moment's notice."
"Go, Nick, go!" I urged.
Feeling perhaps that he was making some slight amends for the unintentional injury, Nick went swiftly down the aisle to do as he was bid.
"Dale, oh, my faithful friend. There is something you can do. Go to the door of the Cathedral—the only door—and place the key upon the outside—and wait."
Although it was not clear what she intended doing, this was no time to argue. Without a word I flew to obey her orders. Because of her use of English not a word of her intention filtered through to the court. Only her father who was nearest understood her words, and gathered some inkling of the meaning. As I hurried down the aisle, unimpeded, I heard him cry in an agony of suspense:
"My daughter—my son—my only child—what would you do? Speak, speak to me I implore you. Tell me what is your purpose."
"It is the end," she replied without spirit. "The end! The end! We are trapped and undone. We cannot go on. We are lost—lost—lost! As God is my Judge, I will not live this horrible lie another moment. I did not foresee this mockery. Oh, God, my heart is breaking!"
"Aye," he replied, "but the sacrilege! Think of the sacrilege! You cannot go back. The only safe way is to go on! There must be a way out of this difficulty. There must be; trust me, your father; I will find it for you."
"Let them kill me if they wish. I know, now, what the life means which you have doomed me to. If there is a God and He is Love He will take care of me."
"But, think, child. They will kill you. They will torture me, your father, who has always loved you. Surely you do not purpose to tell! Oh, my God, do not do that! Do not do that!"
Both the King and the Patriarch, impatient of the delay, put an end to the pleadings of the Duke of Dhalmatia.
"Make answer to this charge. Confess that you are guilty," they exclaimed, and the nobles took up the cry.
Solonika bent over and lifted her sword from the stone floor. Drawing herself up to her full height, she made a sign that she would speak. Silence fell upon the assemblage and every eye was fixed upon her face as they waited for the words to come.
But Solonika did not utter a sound. With her upraised hand she stood listening. Listening for what?
From my position beside the door I had an unobstructed view of her. The Red Fox's retainers were all about me. They were absorbed in watching the proceedings, and did not notice me when I placed the huge brass key on the outside. Neither did they seem to hear the sharp report of the explosions as Teju Okio, acting under his master's orders, turned the sixty horsepower engines over with a loud whir. The sound rang through the Cathedral in strange contrast with the mediæval scene. It was the voice of the twentieth century making itself heard where for unnumbered ages only the chants of the hooded priests had echoed. It sounded like sweet music to my ears. It seemed to be what Solonika had been waiting for.
"Gentlemen of Bharbazonia," she began, in the court language, "with such an array of formidable witnesses against me it were useless to deny that I am the man who affronted this woman. It would avail me nothing to say that she does not tell the truth; but that which I now tell you will avail, although it bring with it surer retribution."
"No, no!" cried the Red Fox, distraught with fear, "she—he, my child is not himself. His excitement has overtopped his mind. You must not heed his raving. He will marry the Princess. I swear it to you, nobles of Bharbazonia. All will yet be well. But do not let him speak that which is not true. Go on with the ceremony. I would yet see him king before I die—I, his poor father, who have suffered so much against the glories of this day."
"Cease your wild words and permit us to hear this boy's reply," thundered the Patriarch from his high altar. The Church spoke and all men trembled at the sound.
"I will be brief, O, Most High Patriarch," continued Solonika, without a glance in her father's direction. "Your ancient law declares that a man must wed the maid he salutes with a kiss before witnesses. I have not broken that law. For I am not a man, but a woman!"
"It is not true!" cried Dhalmatia. "I, her father, ought to know!"
"It is true!" cried Solonika.
"Thou art a woman?" thundered the Patriarch above.
"A woman?" exclaimed King Gregory.
"I swear it," replied Solonika, but, even as she spoke, she turned and sped swiftly down the wide aisle toward the door, where I waited. Before the company had fully grasped the meaning of her words, the great voice of the Patriarch thundered and rose above the wild babel of sounds with the one clear word of dread significance:
"SACRILEGE!"
I saw the King with a scream of agony fall forward on his face, while the Red Fox, beaten and undone, dropped to his knees upon the railing in an attitude of prayer. Fortunately for Solonika the armed men, who might have stopped her, were behind the women. No one appeared in the aisle. The court ladies were overcome with terror. On, on, she came running swiftly and lightly toward the door which I prepared to shut behind her as she passed.
One of the white clergy stood beside me with a brass incense burner in his hand. He dropped the burner to the floor as the Patriarch's cry came to him, and prepared to stop the fleeing Prince. Just as Solonika was within his grasp I struck him a heavy blow and felled him in the aisle. She dashed by and I sprang through the great doorway with her. Both put our shoulders to the heavy oaken portal and swung it shut with a loud bang. I grasped the ponderous key in both hands and the rusty bolt found its iron socket. Even through the door I could hear the bellow of the high priest.
"Sacrilege! A woman hath defiled the altar."
We ran down the steps hand in hand and found Nick, all unconscious of the tragedy which had been enacted within, standing beside the tonneau door, waiting. The black cloth of the Church which hung from Solonika's shoulders served to disguise her in the growing dusk from the soldiers who were still drawn up in front of the Cathedral, ready to conduct the new-made King to the Palace. The engine was playing havoc with their equilibrium.
"Is the ceremony over?" asked Nick, entirely ignorant of the true situation.
"It is over now, thank God," Solonika replied, but her real meaning escaped him.
The noise in the Cathedral became pronounced. Added to the bull-like tones of the Patriarch were women's voices high and shrill, calling upon the empty air to "Stop her."
"What's the trouble in there?" asked Nick. The cavalrymen nearest the steps looked anxiously toward the building.
"The audience is preparing to come out, Nick," I said as quietly as I could. "Please get under way as rapidly as possible."
I helped the trembling girl into the machine and leaped in beside her. Nick took his place beside Teju Okio.
"Let her go," he commanded.
"Very dam fine," returned the boy, and we started like the wind.
We passed through the wide pathway held open by the wall of mounted men and were well up the hill before we heard a sound from the Cathedral. From our elevated position we had a dim view of the plaza in front of the church, and saw that the excitement had been communicated to the street. All became confusion among the soldiers and the waiting crowd. They ran about and looked to me like little black ants that have been disturbed in their hill by the careless foot of man. As long as we remained in sight no one emerged from the Cathedral to take command and order a pursuit. Evidently the door was holding well. But I did not take much comfort at our easy escape for I knew that before morning the entire army and every man, woman and child in Bharbazonia would be seeking Solonika.
"Where would you go, Sire?" said Nick. "Dhalmatia?"
"No! no!" she cried, and I felt her shudder. "Any place but there."
"His Majesty," said I, thinking it best to keep Nick in ignorance for a while at least, "is much over-wrought after the strain of the ceremony. It would be well to ride for a time. The night air will do him good."
"Let's make it the Turk's Head Inn, then," suggested Nick. "We may get something to eat there. I have not had anything since breakfast."
"Neither have I. Make it the Turk's Head," I replied.
Nick turned his attention to directing Teju Okio toward the King's Highway which led to the inn, and Solonika settled against my shoulder with a satisfied sigh. I stole one arm under her head to make her more comfortable. We rode silently on into the growing darkness. In an hour it would be as dark as that terrible morning when we rode through the forest of Zin.
"What are your plans, Solonika?" I whispered.
"Do not speak. Do not move," she said. "I am so happy."
Happy? This was no time to give way to happiness. I realized the supreme danger she was in and felt that we lost time by aimlessness of action. I, too, feeling her soft cheek against my arm, was strangely happy. But fear would not let me enjoy the pleasure her proximity gave me. Of course, being possessed of the only automobile in Bharbazonia, we were safe from pursuit for the moment. But there was Nicholas to be reckoned with. He must be told the truth. When he knew that the Prince was Solonika, how would he act? I remembered his curving fingers around an imaginary throat when he told me of the sacrilege. Would he still be of the same opinion when he knew Solonika had committed that great crime against his church? And then my heart stopped beating, and I sat up with a gasp.
The gates! there at the end of the highway stood Castle Comada with its battlements and its closed, barred doors! What good was our flight at all if we were to be stopped by the guard at the end of our run? The government had wires to all its outposts and by this time, perhaps, the two castles. Novgorod on the north and Comada on the south, would be on the look-out for the automobile.
"Solonika, you must tell me what you propose doing. You must realize the castles will know of our coming and will not let us through. How are we to get out of this cursed country?"
"It is so plebeian to be happy," she murmured, like one in a dream. "I never knew, I never dreamed it would be like this. It is so good."
I began to fear for her reason. This obliviousness to fear, when she knew that death inevitable was hanging over her head, like the sword of Damocles, was not entirely natural. But I did not disturb her again until we drew up in front of the tavern about nine o'clock. We had met no one on the road who disputed our progress.
Nick ordered the meal and I followed Solonika to a comfortable chair by the fire. She clung to my hand with all the appearance of a frightened child and would not let me go. I stayed to comfort her while Nick and Teju Okio examined the car which had brought us safely thus far on our journey.
The French landlord was overjoyed. Business he said was very bad. Everybody was at the coronation. There was not a single soul about the inn but his wife and the servants. I arranged for a room at the head of the stairs for Solonika, and urged her to lie down a while before supper. She consented, and I led her to the foot of the stairs. We were alone for the moment. On the first step she stopped and held out her arms to me.
"Oh, Dale Wharton," she whispered, "it is so beautiful. I wonder that I never knew it before. It came so suddenly, when you looked at me in the Cathedral. There seemed to be a stone wall ahead. I could not go forward and I could not go back. Then, somehow, you came to me and I realized what a lonely life I should lead thereafter. Without you I did not want to live. You made me tell. And now I am free to die."
"Hush, sweetheart, you must not talk of dying. I will save you if I can. There must be a way."
"No hope. No hope. Though I turn to the east, west, north, south, there is no hope. The Greek church—my church—is hedging me about. I have given up. I will fight no more. For my sacrilege I must die. In the sight of God I am accursed. I must die. I must."
"No, my own, you must not die."
"But, before they come, Dale, I want you to know that I love you. I want you to kiss me once upon the lips, and I shall be content."
I tried to rouse her; to make her see that we could escape if she would only help me, and that, when we were free, there was a life for us together in America where, undisturbed by kings or creeds, we might be happy. She listened patiently, but without interest. Much against my will I was forced to realize that she felt the enormity of her offence and that she had condemned herself to death.
"Will you not kiss me, Dale?" she pleaded.
"Listen, dearest," I said, hoping to force her to help me through the love she bore me, "you must not give up in despair. For, if you die, I must die also. You will not condemn me to death, will you?"
"Oh, no," she replied, "they will not hurt you. You have not harmed them, as I have."
She put her arms around my neck and kissed me long and passionately. Our lips met in their first kiss and possibly their last. Then she walked weakly up the steps, entered her room and closed the door.
I stood at the foot of the stairs and watched her until she was gone from sight. Then I turned and came face to face with Nicholas. From his expression I knew that he had seen the Prince's caress. So bitterly did he look at me that I scarcely recognized my old friend in him. And I needed his friendship now so much. Plainly he suspected the truth.
"Well, Dale," he said coldly, "perhaps you will be good enough to explain."