Chapter XIV
Bornia sued for peace; they could do nothing else, for they were hopelessly beaten both by land and sea.
Prince Kleber had been busy with the Bornians on the water, and the Soctia had made a great name for herself; a large number of prizes were now in the harbour of Soctia, and she had successfully carried on a vigorous warfare with the Bornian Navy.
Prince Kleber had done much to facilitate our progress in Garace, especially at Bustelov, where the Bornians were well fortified; it was largely owing to the clever co-operation of the navy that our troops occupied that place without a prolonged siege.
The only time that Rudarlian troops entered Bornia, was the day when peace was declared; then a small number escorted the signatories, for a mile, to their side of the frontier.
So completely were the Bornians beaten that, in spite of the moral support of certain great powers, they accepted our terms at once; well they might, for they were, considering, very moderate: the evacuation of Garace, and a certain sum as war indemnity were the two chief items.
We had no wish to exasperate a badly beaten enemy; nor did we wish to claim territorial aggrandisement beyond the recovery of our one-time province of Garace.
It has always seemed to me to be bad policy to demand too much from a beaten adversary, excepting when that enemy is dangerous to the peace of the world, or, indeed, of your nation; for, unless the necessity is great, a beaten opponent should be treated with consideration. But there are cases, no doubt, when it is expedient to destroy completely a nation’s power to do harm in the future.
It seemed that, with the end of the war, a better understanding at once began between the two countries; perhaps the fighting was like the old-fashioned remedy of blood-letting.
It is impossible to describe the feelings of joy and pride with which I thought of Rudarlia and the Rudarlians; they had proved themselves so splendid, and now that the war had been carried to a successful conclusion I hoped that economic conditions would begin to improve and the prosperity of the country be assured.
I will confess to certain day-dreams in that respect, and obtained quite a lot of pleasure from them.
As soon as peace was declared, the inhabitants of Rudarlia began to show their joy; and it was overwhelming, even in the most out-of-the-way villages the poorest of the people held marvellous celebrations.
I think the most trying time of my whole life was during my visits to all parts of Rudarlia. I thought that I should never have any pleasure in speaking again, for in every corner of my country it was thought necessary to hand me addresses.
In Garace, the people were almost crazy with joy at having thrown off the Bornian bonds, and being under the Rudarlian flag again.
Although this time was, as I have said, most trying, yet it was inspiring and certainly satisfactory; I defy even the most cold-blooded person to listen to a nation’s cheers, without feeling a deep glow of pleasure. I, personally, do not attempt to deny that it pleased me, for it meant that I had made good.
A great number of months passed before the nation settled down to their normal lives; and the time of the officials, from King to Mayor, was taken up in the many duties that fell upon them.
Perhaps the most hard-worked people of all were the doctors and nurses, for the hospitals were full, and I would not have any man turned away without being absolutely cured of his wounds, if such a thing were possible. Those whose wounds rendered them unfit for further military service received a plot of land, or, if they chose, a sum of money.
Then there were the honours and rewards to be settled, the various recompenses for farms and homesteads destroyed in the war, and a thousand and one things beside.
Upon Carruthers, who had been of incalculable value to us through his airwork, I bestowed the Cross of Rudarlia, an honour of which he was intensely proud, in spite of his assurances to the contrary. Much as I should have liked him to stop in Rudarlia, I did not press him when he came to bid me good-bye, for I knew that he would have his work cut out to explain matters to the authorities in England. I was convinced, however, that he would do it quite successfully, for he had a most engaging way of getting himself out of scrapes.
General von Quarovitch had received a substantial grant from the Government to enable him to uphold his new rank, for I had made him Count. He was also given a command of more importance than the frontier, and so he was often in Karena. In fact, he was now as much sought after as before he had been neglected; but he took his sudden popularity very grimly, which caused me huge enjoyment. His treatment of the fair sex was a never failing source of delight; they called him bearish, but devoted themselves to him.
I had also made Woolgast a Count, and I do not think that there were many to sneer at his new rank. He had quite recovered from the wound given him by Alexis; and was now, as usual, always at my side.
He was a man who never asked for any favour, either for himself or his family; he was as devoted to me as anyone could be, and it was his delight to accompany me in command of the escort wherever I went. I always made a point of taking an escort of my regiment of guards, for I believed the people loved to see the white and gold of their uniforms, and to know that their King rode or drove among them with regal pomp and glory. The Rudarlians, in that respect, were rather barbaric in their tastes; and yet, I am not sure that it is not a good thing to keep alive the love of show, I believe it really brightens the lives of the people, who so often live in dull monotony. I myself confess to a certain quickening of the pulses at sight of martial pomp, and also when I hear the jingling music of a cavalry regiment. There is something fine and inspiring in the sight of a number of men splendidly upright and strong, moving together as though one man, and to realise that they are prepared to give their lives for an ideal—for the love of country is nothing else. I have heard it said that an ideal will move men to acts of greater heroism than any fact; it may be so, but I always look upon an ideal as a mental fact in itself, so I can hardly argue the point.
I shall never forget the first time I dined privately after the war. There were just four of us, my mother, Prince Zeula, Mr. Neville, and myself, and we had old Bauen up to wait upon us. I wanted to feel absolutely free to say what I would without feeling that there might be one of the servants listening.
It was quite like old times, yet not so very old, only a few years, but years so full of incident that each seemed to have multiplied itself by ten. In those few years I had changed from a boy into a man, from a commoner into a king; and it may safely be surmised that such changes must have a considerable effect on anyone.
They were rich years for me to look back upon and so full of mental, and perhaps moral wealth, that I was almost fearful of their effect upon me. I was afraid that I should lose my youth before the time, that manhood’s cares would sap the joy of life within me, and, by so doing, injure the power I had to feel and sympathise with the many defects in human nature.
My mother, to whom I had spoken of this, agreed that it might be so with some people, but not in my case. A remark which was so intensely human in its mother feeling, that I laughed and said no more.
This dinner à quatre was very enjoyable. We seemed to forget for a while that we were really people of importance in our world, and we laughed and joked with all the old-time zest, and perhaps more; never since my accession had we been so gay and cheerful. Zeula, who seemed to grow younger each month, had a wonderful collection of anecdotes, and his wit was great.
We might have been a party on the stage playing some clever farce, for the conversation never flagged, and even I was witty, which was unusual, since I have never possessed real gifts in that line, although I have, thank God, a sense of humour.
It did me good to look at the three faces I loved so well, and listen to the conversation, noting the difference in their trends of thought.
Zeula, brilliant, polished.
Mr. Neville, dry, rather caustic.
My mother, intensely feminine.
They made, however, a very good combination, and a subject was dissected very thoroughly by the three.
Towards the end of the meal, the topics of conversation became more personal, bearing more directly on the future of Rudarlia.
It was at this point that I began to feel a rather comic uneasiness, for my instinct told me that before long some remark would lead up to the subject of my marriage, and I knew that Zeula would be responsible for it, as he was wrapped up in the subject.
I was not mistaken, for he made a remark about a King without heirs. My mother glanced at me quickly. I deliberately winked at Mr. Neville, who laughed outright.
“So, Prince,” said I, “you have thrown your bomb.”
“I awaited a fitting opportunity, your Majesty.”
“Pray forget ceremony,” murmured my mother.
“Then, Mr. Smith,” said I, with a grimace, “you have given me indigestion.”
“I did not ask you to bolt your food, Victor.”
“Meaning?”
“That there is no particular hurry.”
“For a week or two,” chimed in Mr. Neville, and set us all laughing.
Although we laughed at first, it was only at first, for the question was an extremely important one, both for myself and Rudarlia. I knew that it was imperative that I should marry, and I also realised that the time had come to think seriously about it, and incidentally to find the wife.
“I understand that my position is one of some uncertainty, that you wish me to marry and have heirs, but the question which puzzles me is, who am I to marry?”
“There will not be any difficulty in that, Victor.”
“And yet I do not see in which direction to look, for I can hardly hope, as King of a small kingdom like Rudarlia, to ally myself with any of the great powers.”
“Perhaps you have already thought of some one; I confess that I find it difficult myself.”
“Yes, I have thought of one. It will most probably come as a great surprise when you hear where I propose to look for a wife, but I have looked at the question from every point of view, and it seems to me that I had better marry a Princess of—Bornia.”
As I had surmised, the suggestion surprised them; I do not think the possibility of it had once struck them. They were silent for some little time as though pondering on what I had said, only Mr. Neville looked at me quizzically, my mother and Zeula keeping their eyes turned from mine. The latter was the first to speak:
“I had not thought of that, Victor; will you tell us your reasons?”
“Oh yes, I have thought a great deal about our relations with our late foe, and it seems to me that such a marriage as I suggest would do much to remove the bitterness that there undoubtedly is between the two nations. That is my first reason. The second is, that if all the Bornian Princesses married Germans or Austrians, as the odds are they would, there would be endless friction between our nations, whereas, if I marry one of them, the influence will not be so one-sided. My third reason is not so realisable, but it may come true. It is an imaginary condition which circumstances may bring about, therefore it can hardly be looked upon as a real reason, and I was wrong to so describe it; I will, however, tell you that it was a dream which united the two kingdoms under one monarch. There is little real difference between the two races, and who knows what the future may bring forth?”
“Two of your reasons are excellent, Victor, and the third is within the range of possibilities.”
“Have you seen photographs of the Bornian Princesses?” asked Mr. Neville.
“Very indifferent ones, and without knowing one from the other.”
“And which do you propose offering your hand to?”
“I do not know yet, I therefore suggest that a trip to Bornia would be an admirable thing, so that I may see them first.”
“Eh?”
“Yes, the week after next I propose going for a walking tour through Garace, and will visit Sonale. I shall not be known in Bornia’s capital—I will shave off my moustache. I shall have a good time, ascertain the public feeling towards the said Princesses, also I shall see them.”
“That sounds quite an attractive programme,” said Mr. Neville, smiling. “May I ask whether it is your intention to go alone?”
“Not if I can induce you to accompany me. If you will, my mother’s mind will be made easy, Prince Zeula will not insist upon a regiment in mufti accompanying me, and I—well, you know that I shall be pleased.”
“I will go with the greatest pleasure.”
“Then we will call it settled.”
“Do you think it wise, Victor?” asked my mother.
“It may not be the essence of wisdom, yet it will give me a little feeling of romance.”
Zeula laughed.
“Will you carry a lute with you to serenade the Princesses, and a shield with a flaming heart as device?”
“Make the musical instrument a lyre, it would most probably serve a fuller purpose,” said I, “but I daresay you all realise and understand what I mean, and if you don’t I am ashamed of you.”
“Of course we do; but never forget to go out without your revolver, there is more than one Goltz in the world.”
“That was a lesson I have not forgotten, nor do I wish it repeated; and, to get away from unpleasant topics, would you all like a game of bridge?”
We played two rubbers; my partner and I did not score a game.
“Remembering the old saying, you ought to be very lucky in love,” said Mr. Neville.