Part 8

"Oh, Margaret, Margaret of England, the God I worship gave me etheric power. I thought I was omnipotent, but I made mistakes, terrible blunders, thinking I could do all the work in a week. I was in such a hurry, full of a boy's pride of service, and look at the horrors I have brought upon the world with my rash haste. What is etheric power compared with the power in a woman's eyes? I don't know how it is, but I see everything so clearly now, and all my power is nothing--nothing whatever in the eyes of the Queen. I suppose I must be in love. Am I in love?"

"You mustn't," gasped the Queen, "it's not allowed. The Queen is not allowed to be a woman."

He laughed, kissing her hands as he spoke. "Not if I conquer the world and lay it at the feet of the Queen?"

"I don't know," Margaret smiled sadly. "I must ask my governess, and she will say, there are no precedents in the book of etiquette. We must be good and serve England."

"England!" he cried, gazing into the Queen's eyes. "I love you, England. Isn't that allowed?"

"Not if you put it that way, Mr. Brand. England is not a woman, but a country."

"Bounded on the east by a man's love, and on the west by a man's hope, and on the north by a man's fears, and on the south by a man's faith."

"But that's not geography, Mr. Brand. Please get up."

"I won't unless you promise to let me love England my own way."

"I can't prevent that," said Margaret, smiling.

XI

THE WORLD-STORM

When Brand made his declaration before the Parliament night had already fallen over Europe, and although it was still broad day in the New World, the banks and exchanges were for the most part closed.

But out beyond the Pacific another dawn had flamed along the Kamschatkan volcanoes, the rose flush glowed upon the snows of Fuji, a land breeze awakened the dreaming Eastern Isles, a level sun flashed diamonds in the surf of the Barrier Reef, and the bells of Australian cities rang their summons to work and prayer. So it was that the world-storm which gathered in Europe, broke first upon that far-off Commonwealth which stands at the gates of the Daybreak.

In Brisbane and Sydney, in Melbourne and Auckland, the people were at their breakfast-tables when the news' telephones rang the first notes of alarm, and spoke of the fall of gold. "Nothing to fear," said the average bread-winner. "Brand guarantees good money."

Next came the news that the master was chargeable with treason.

"Nothing to fear," said the average Australian. "Brand will be in gaol and the old money sound as before."

Prudent men called at the bank to withdraw their deposits. Careful housewives laid in a stock of food. There was a heavy run on all the banks, a sharp rise in the price of provisions, a reluctance to give the usual measure for gold, but still no general panic until noon.

"The Queen joins Lyonesse in open war against the Parliament."

They are of the master race, these Australasians, men who have conquered the deserts, law-loving, self-controlled, cautious, not very easily frightened, ready to lay wagers cheerfully on the issues of life and death. But the bread-winner will fight like a wild beast in defence of his wife and his children. The coinage was discredited, Brand's labour money might become waste paper.

"Get food while money still has power to buy!"

The rich besieged the banks, and prosperous people bought loads of provisions for cash, not caring what they paid. The shops of the butchers, grocers, and bakers were thronged with customers begging to be served. Still there was decency and order, a cheery confidence that the storm would pass, and the taking of heavy odds against Lyonesse.

"Brand's private yacht has defeated three destroyers."

Etheric power! These people had been familiar with Brand's ships for years, bolts of wrought steel, propelled by etheric engines, which could flash through high space at two hundred miles an hour. They were not armed, but suppose that he used them as rams against the fragile, electric battle fleets? Lord Ulster had levied war against etheric power!

Then men went mad. In the rush for food women were crushed to death, and many persons who had secured provisions, were set upon and robbed by criminals. Shops were plundered, armouries were sacked, the police were overwhelmed. Then aerial destroyers fired on the mob.

Sweeping away all values attached to money, with every hour the stress of panic spread. A coinage is only the small change of trade, but with its failure all belief in bonds and promises, all savings, all investments were dishonoured. The rich were bankrupted, the poor thrown out of work, the shops were closed, traffic was suspended, private and public credit alike were shattered. By the third day the Government of the Commonwealth had fallen, and men went armed to guard their families.

At the first motion of the storm, the Australasian bankers sent out their plea for help. The Phillipines and Japan were already appealing, and the cry of the islands awakened Asia. But there was no help. Bravely the Chinese merchants faced the crisis when their time was come, and honourably met their obligations. Malaya awakened, Burmah, India, Persia, Siberia were swept from end to end; and so in the wake of the sun the storm swept on, travelling at a thousand miles an hour, gathering momentum every moment until it fell like the crash of doom along the length of Africa, across the breadth of Europe.

The break of day found Europe under arms, the aerial fleets on patrol, troops holding the towns. The exchanges, banks, and provision stores were attacked, the doors of them sealed and under guard of sentries. No work could be done, no wage could be earned, traffic ceased, the channels of news were closed. The world-storm struck the East with a fever, a raving delirium, the West with paralysis. In Russia, Germany, and France there began from that time a condition of living death, and afterwards in many a muddy street guardsmen who visited Berlin, saw crops of grass.

On that first day the storm went roaring by leaving Europe shaken, and striking the coasts of America in the full height of its fury. However sound its finance, no nation can stand alone, and in the general bankruptcy of all the world, the great Republic fell. They say that the new metropolis on Manhattan Island is even more stupendous than that which was burned, but still in the negro states of the Mississippi, the ploughs are driven through fields of human bones, and some of the Mexican silver mines are walled up for fear of pestilence.

It is curious to remember how quiet was London on that first day of the Terror. Here was the calm tract in the centre and vortex of the cyclone.

Wisely the Parliament had declared a Bank Holiday. Places of business were closed, the traffic had an easy holiday gait, the parks were thronged, and even the public meetings were not stormy.

In the fortified Palace our Lady's servants had time to sleep after a hard night's work. Her Majesty was not seen, Mr. Brand was supposed to be transacting business in his office in the east front. Prince Ali was a prisoner in the guard-room, charged with treason. My Lord Sydney walked in the stable court with Mr. Browne. Some rumours went about that the captain of the Bodyguard, His Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester, had a letter from the Dictator. Another rumour was spread that nearly all Mr. Brand's ships had been captured. Lying in various cities throughout the world, to receive and discharge their cargo, more than a hundred of these vessels had been arrested on behalf of the Government. Still the yacht, _Mary Rose_, hung glittering in the heavens like a star, and by aerial telegraph kept the master in contact with affairs.

Late in the afternoon a drenching shower of rain burst over London, with one great ringing peal of thunder.

Miss Temple would have us believe that this was the last trumpet sounding the call to judgment.

The Russian papers were now in all men's hands that they might consider her Majesty's quarrel, also Brand's proposals were known, and how his gift was withheld from reaching the people. And it was well understood that the Parliament, in fighting Brand, had caused all the money in the world to be dishonoured, so that neither the currency of the nations nor that of Lyonesse could be accepted as any measure of value. The leaders of public opinion, journals, clubs, societies, cities, fortresses, and colonies throughout the Empire were hourly declaring for the Queen.

The rich were on the Duke of Ulster's side, scouting the idea that he had betrayed us to Russia. The poor were with the Queen and Lyonesse. On the whole the fleets and armies obeyed the departments as usual; but rather than attack our Lady, or slaughter their countrymen, soldiers and sailors alike were ripe for mutiny.

Ulster was innocent until his guilt was proved; the nation wanted, even for him, fair play, a trial at law. We islanders are slow to kindle, and neither party desired civil war. So the day closed.

But with the second day, all England knew that trial at law was denied us, or even trial by battle. The deadlock remained and was forgotten. For how could any man remember that the Empire was betrayed, or so much as think of internecine war amid that beggary of the human Race? That was not to be salved by public holidays, or cured by politics, or stayed by war. The first necessity of life is food, and a merchant will not part with his good provisions for any quantity of bogus money.

At first we were all quite confused, storming the banking houses, which solemnly dealt out waste coin and waste paper to hungry customers. Or we thought to rescue our invested savings, and our stock-brokers screamed themselves hoarse trying to sell out shares in mines gone bankrupt, or the bonds of governments already fallen. We had nothing to sell but pieces of paper; we got their exact value back in scraps of paper. We began to understand that we were ruined.

There was no money. People came to the railway stations offering jewels or watches to pay their fares out of London. Then the trains stopped running, and they were rich who had yachts or carriages to make their escape to the country. From noon on the second day to the evening of the third, some thirty hours, the main roads were crowded with fugitives, and when some broken carriages blocked the way, the lanes on either side were overrun. Long afterwards the roads to the country were littered with the wreckage of that flight, in wagons overturned, in piles of broken furniture, in baggage thrown away, and household treasures, or here and there some shattered, trampled body of a man.

And the poor remained in London.

Now we had come face to face with the first law, "Adapt yourselves or die." Some of us adapted ourselves to the new conditions, but for those who failed---- A few days later one began to notice a faint, sickly smell in the streets, and when the air was still, a thin, white mist hanging above the roofs. This bred the pestilence. For there was famine such as had never been known in human annals, famine in the midst of a great abundance.

It must not be thought that there was any lack of food either in London or the provinces. Brand had seen to it.

At the beginning many families laid in stores of victuals, filled their water tanks, fortified their homes, and gallantly defended themselves by force of arms. The big employers kept their servants alive by daily issue of rations, and that long after they suspended work. The Government issued free rations for all those who were strong enough to fight their way to the depôts, and get off home again without being killed. The farmers and fishermen brought in supplies which they traded for works of art and precious merchandise, for land and houses. These men became very rich.

There was plenty of food, but after the Government fell three-fifths of the whole supply was lost by pillage and burning. The fire brigade was helpless for lack of water; the police and the troops were withdrawn, dispersed, or massacred.

We were reduced to the strangest shifts and expedients for money. Coins passed according to size and weight, as pence, halfpence and farthings. Thus, four sovereigns made an ounce, or penny, which would buy a small roll of bread. Ounces of tobacco, brass checks representing goods in storage, medals, gems, blankets, were common tokens of barter. A revolver cartridge would buy four ounces of meat.

We lacked one old resource of former troubles--horseflesh. There were a few horses owned by rich men; but motor carriages did all the traction, and one cannot eat dynamos. It was curious, too, that panic of the naturalists concerning the Zoological Gardens. Many of the animals condemned for soup--the lions and tigers, for instance, were the last surviving examples of species and orders now wholly extinct. Thousands of starved Londoners protested concerning the lions--the British Lions.

Twenty years have gone by since then, and God has touched our hair with silver in token of the eternal peace to come. And still in the deeps of the night the memory breaks into our dreams, and lifts us broad awake with a scream of horror. Yet, would we part with that dread remembrance? No, not for worlds!

How sweet it is in memory once again, to walk those old streets of the lost Capital, to see once more the faces of that time, of men brought near to Heaven in their pain, of women glorified by suffering, and little children waiting patiently for the end. We never hoped to live, we rarely cared, for hope was dead in many a smiling face. Fear was dead, too; there was nothing to be afraid of, except life. Men spoke very gently when they met, women would purse their lips and hurry on. One got so used and inured to horrors that the environment of death was no more to be thought of than the air we breathed.

One saw so many deeds of sacrifice, so many saintly and heroic actions, that these made the framework to one's thoughts of life.

So is the memory sweet of those embittered days when, grim confused wars racked all the peoples of the earth; those days of famine, pillage, massacre, of wasting pestilence, and flaming desolation. Heaven and hell were opened, but men looked upward.

XII

THE THIRD DAY

On the third day the Primate called the whole nation to fasting, humiliation, and prayer. At St. Paul's Cathedral the Litany was to be read; and when the great bell began to toll his minutes over the Capital our Lady said she would attend that service.

For by this time the press had spoken in no uncertain voice. A newspaper is, indeed, like a lens, a burning glass condensing the thought of the people into one clear flame of utterance.

The clear flame had fallen upon the Lord Protector and his Parliament, the nation waited for the Queen to strike, and she did well to trust the poor who loved her.

So, dressed in deep mourning, and attended only by Miss Temple, our Lady drove out through the gates in an open carriage. She would have no bodyguard, save in the protection of the mob. The troops cheered as they opened their lines for her passage, men came uncovered, and begged leave to draw her carriage, and all through the streets she was guarded by crowds of men with a great deal of noise, but much besides of loving reverence.

An attempt to arrest our Lady would have led to grievous trouble for the Government, for the Dictator's writ had little meaning now, and for the moment it seemed that his rule was come to an end. Without attracting notice, Brand's yacht followed Margaret to St. Paul's.

He sat alone in his office behind the darkened, barricaded windows. A pocket aerograph clicked on the desk before him, message after message flashed down from the yacht by his secretaries, and at times, with the little key throbbing under his finger, he sent instructions back.

Nearly all his ships were captured now, Lyonesse had fallen, and yet he must wait, guarding the sacred person of the Queen until the time was ripe, until the nation called him to strike the Dictator down. He must be ready when the moment came, he must have the full support of the Imperial Fleets, the Armies, the departments, the people's trusted leaders, the functions of the whole administration. The new Government must date from Ulster's fall, leaving no instant of doubt, of anarchy, and, above all, this must be Margaret's Government, no froth upon the waves of revolution. There must be no cry in the streets of Brand's Dictatorship, or any mention of himself at all. His portion was with the ships and factories. But it was hard to wait while his ships were captured, his factories despoiled, his good name marred by this reluctant, torturing, agonizing silence.

He closed the instrument, and lying back in his chair, remained in thought. These three days had sprinkled his hair with silver, aged his strong face, added to the rough power of the man something of majesty, and there came into his eyes a light that had never shown until he knew the Queen. The vision of her arose before him now, her voice seemed to ring through the quiet room, and his heart went out to her in desire.

Who was he that he should dare to love this child of mail-clad Kings, this mighty Empress in whose august name the very skies were governed, and the sea, and realms and continents of men within the limits of the British Peace? He was a commoner, a tradesman, and yet no difference of rank or station, of wealth or power, eminence, faith, enlightenment, has ever set boundaries to human love. 'Tis the man and the woman who mate, not their condition. Had he not seen the evidence of love in Margaret's face? And to win her he must conquer the whole world.

But he was presently aroused from his enchantment. Already some one had knocked at the door unnoticed, and now, while with clasped hands he sat before the table, and with uplifted eyes gazed on his mental vision of the Queen, there was a visitor standing within the room. Dimly aware of some impending peril, Brand turned round to find a stranger bowing apologies, a gentleman in civilian dress, yet wearing a turban of banded green and gold, an Oriental, haughty, yet in some queer way, servile.

"You are Prince Ali?" he asked.

"At your service, yes."

"Escaped from the guard-room?"

Prince Ali put a bolder face on his intrusion, went to a chair by the wall, sat down and crossed his legs.

"Before you ring for my guards," he explained, "I have business with you."

Brand smiled at the man's audacity.

"Of course,"--his Highness lighted a cigarette--"you share our common sorrow at this grave crisis?"

"No, sir, we have nothing in common."

"I observe," the Prince laughed, "that the sea-eagle wastes few regrets over a panic of gulls."

"Am I to be one of your eagles, or one of your gulls, Prince Ali?"

"Of the gulls? No." He shrugged his shoulder. "You are King of the air, as I am of India!"

"I supposed," said Brand, gravely, "that her Majesty was Empress of India."

"Was Empress, yes. I see we understand one another."

"I think, my dear Prince, that I follow your meaning. So India finds her opportunity in this crisis? May I venture to ask if you speak on behalf of Russia?"

"I speak," said the other, haughtily, "for India. I speak for the India which has waited ever since 1857."

"For a repetition of the artillery salutes fired by the British in 1858?"

Ali's face darkened with sudden passion. "Your tact, Mr. Brand, is most English. Yes, I have the honour to speak for the India which has waited since the artillery salutes of 1858."

"And how am I to serve you?"

"I come, Mr. Brand, to the future Dictator of the world, not to ask favours, but to confer them."

"Indeed, you are too kind. Go on, sir."

"I must warn you first that Lyonesse has been captured."

"You don't say so."

"Also that all your ships are taken, save two which are homeward bound, and will be secured on their arrival. Your yacht has gone to the city to guard the ex-Queen. You are helpless in the hands of your enemies. I have come to save you."

"Indeed." Brand reached forward across the desk, and touched an electric bell. "How you escaped from the guard, I don't quite know," he said; "I have rung to inquire."

"Very good," Prince Ali laughed. "I was released and sent here by the Lord Protector's agent, the Duke of Gloucester."

"Really," said Brand, sarcastically; "any further revelations?"

"Yes. The price which Ulster pays for your body, the price he pays to Gloucester, is the throne--the throne of the Empire!"

"Anything more?"

"At all hazards I came to warn you of this trap, and you walk blindly into it. That bell condemns you to death! Quick,"--Prince Ali started to his feet--"there may be time. At the end of this corridor there's a door to the upper terrace--when your yacht comes back you can signal. I can save you yet!"

"Your price?"

"India."

"Sit down, Prince Ali, sit down, I say! Listen to me," said the master, "you first betrayed poor Ulster to the Russians. Then you betrayed the Queen by this intrigue. Now you would betray the Dictator to me--in order that you may betray your sovereign again, by seizing India. I may have lost my city, my lands and factories, my ships--all that I had, and be here, helpless, at Ulster's mercy."

He looked up at the windows with their loopholed barricades, swung round to face the door from which there was no escape, then turned on Ali of Haidar.

"By the living God, I swear," he cried, "that within a month I'll have you blown from your own guns at the gates of Delhi!"

Rising from his chair, he seized the aerograph and signalled to his yacht for instant succour.

"Die, then!" said the Prince; "here's the death of a dog for you!"

He clapped his hands as though in the Eastern manner calling a servant. Then the door swung open and Gloucester, Captain of the Guard, strode into the room.

He seemed astonished, this old, grizzled soldier--over-astonished.

"Trooper Ali!"

The trooper rose and saluted.

"Who let you out of the guard-room?"

The trooper turned his slow gaze on Brand, and Gloucester, following the direction of his eyes--

"Mr. Brand," he cried, "have you harboured this prisoner?"

Now, Brand was sitting with the aerograph upon his knee signalling rapidly for help. Gloucester's very presence was ignored by this commoner.

"Mr. Brand!" He spoke imperatively. "Mr. Brand!"

The master glanced up with one eye. "Well," he asked. "What's the matter with you?"

"You forget yourself!"

"Not at all. I observe that Prince Ali claps his hands to call a servant. The servant appears, and does well to stand awaiting my orders. You may go." Brand dearly loved a fight.

The Duke flushed scarlet. "Sir, you insult me!"

"If it is possible," said Brand. "Were you listening outside, or did you wear felt slippers? I should have heard you in that paved corridor."

The Duke struck Brand across the face. The American remained perfectly still in his seat, laughing slightly, but otherwise unmoved.

"Thank you," he said; "exactly what I wanted. Shall it be swords or revolvers?"

"This is ridiculous; I cannot stoop to fight a commoner."

"Your Royal Highness prefers to be publicly thrashed?"

"I am commandant of this fortress!"

"Of course," said the master, quietly; "so you struck the Queen's guest."

"You are my prisoner!"

"Well," Brand laughed, "that gets you off all right--don't have to fight when you're frightened."

The Duke was beside himself with rage. "Now you're trying to back out! You shall fight me, sir! You shall fight!"

Mr. Brand rose. "Then," he said, "name your weapons."

So Gloucester, instead of delivering Brand a prisoner to the Lord Protector, must give the delay and the courtesies of a duel.