An Uncrowned King Chapter 10 Part 5

“His brother-in-law, the Duke of Old Sarum, of course,” said Cyril, impatiently. “He entreats Caerleon to withdraw from Thracia immediately, and hints how very painful it would be for the Government to be forced to take action against him. He says that he has broken through strict official usage in sending him this friendly warning, and earnestly trusts he will accept it. After this they must act as they find necessary, and he will have to take the consequences. That last little touch of menace is the Duke’s, I know.”

“And what does the King say? Will he take the advice proffered by all these old friends and kind people?” asked M. Drakovics, anxiously.

“Rather not!” laughed Cyril. “He means to stick to you and Thracia. No; there’s only one thing that would uproot him, I think. If Forfar and the Duke had the sense to get a certain Person to write to him and request him as a favour to abdicate, and not to imperil the peace of Europe——”

“I see,” said M. Drakovics, “you mean the——”

“There is no need to mention names,” said Cyril. “I merely say that I am afraid Caerleon’s chivalry would incline him to follow the advice of a Person in such a position, and with so much experience.”

“But have they tried the expedient?” asked M. Drakovics, looking anxiously at the heap of papers on the table, as though he expected the letter of the Illustrious Personage to arrive by the ordinary post, bearing a 2½d. stamp.

“Not they!” said Cyril. “A bold, picturesque dash like that is quite undreamt of in their philosophy. But I will tell you what I have here—two more warnings. One is from a man who was at Pavelsburg with me. This is what he says: ‘Dear Cill, Que diable fait ton frère dans cette galère? If you will take a straight tip, get him out of it as quickly as you can. I say this for auld lang syne.’ The other is from Mrs Sadleir—not a letter, simply a sentence underlined in one of these precious newspapers—‘If he is wise, the so-called King will do his best to obtain recognition from Roum as soon as possible.’”

“Exactly,” said M. Drakovics, with a ghastly smile, “and my news this morning is that there is a hitch in our negotiations with Roum. Our agent at Czarigrad has been refused an audience, while a special Scythian mission was received with peculiar warmth.”

“Ah!” said Cyril, “and if the recognition is refused, you are a rebel, and Caerleon and I are filibusters. Decidedly, in such a case as this, nothing succeeds but success. Allons, monsieur! we are all in the same boat, and we may as well stick to the ship. It is possible that the Grand Signior was only trying to put Scythia off the scent. If it is so, we shall see. If not——”

The sentence was left unfinished as M. Drakovics departed shaking his head, and Cyril returned to his work of writing answers to his brother’s correspondents. He had no further private conversation with the Premier until one morning several days later, when M. Drakovics entered the office in great excitement.

“Milord, we are lost! Our agent at Czarigrad telegraphs that the recognition is definitely refused. There is a rapprochement between Scythia and Pannonia—the Emperors have met. Secret negotiations are proceeding among the Powers, and the British Government is understood to have decided to remain neutral. There is only one thing that can save Thracia. His Majesty must marry the Princess Ottilie of Mœsia.”

“Indeed!” said Cyril. “What good will that do?”

“Everything. The King of Mœsia is the nephew of the Grand Duke of Schwarzwald-Molzau, and that house is connected with every reigning family in Europe. Moreover, the King, so I learn from my correspondent at Eusebia, would like the match. The Queen wishes her daughter to marry the Prince of Dardania, but he objects to him, and has more than hinted that he would prefer a son-in-law from Thracia. Again, we can offer an inducement. There is a strip of territory on our Mœsian frontier which has been ours since the last war. The people are really Mœsians by race, and give us more trouble than all our Thracians put together; but we have held fast to the territory, knowing that it would be useful as a quid pro quo in case we were ever desirous of obtaining a concession from Mœsia. The King would give anything to have it back, and in exchange for it we shall gain the strongest family alliance we could propose, and the help of Mœsia and the Mœsian army in case of war.”

“There seems to be a good deal of the quid pro quo in your philosophy,” said Cyril. “The difficulty will be to make Caerleon come into the scheme. How are you going to get him to propose?”

“There is no need for his Majesty to conduct the preliminary negotiations in person,” said M. Drakovics, drily. “I have already telegraphed to Eusebia instructing our agent to make formal proposals to the King for the hand of the Princess.”