Blood Royal

by Yates, Dornford

  Arrogant, mannerless, strong to commit an offence which those it offended would lay to another’s charge – for it was I that was driving and I that had the horn-button under my hand…

  The noise, of course, was monstrous. The old walls bandied it frantically, and the cliffs beyond gave it back: a muster of terrified pigeons took clumsy flight: two dogs were barking like mad things, and I sat still fuming and waiting for the echoes to die.

  As the Duke descended, a woman’s clear voice rang out.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  The words came from behind me. I did not turn, but looked into the driving mirror to see a girl sitting square on a great bay horse.

  She had followed us under the archway and was now framed by its mouth. I could see that her hair was dark and her colour high. She sat astride and was wearing riding-trousers that fitted her very well: her rough straw hat was bound with a bright red kerchief, and her white silk shirt lay open about her throat.

  As the Duke approached, she drew off her right-hand glove and, when he uncovered, she leaned down ever so slightly and put her bare hand into his. I saw him kiss her fingers and look up into her face.

  “Leonie,” he said, “they’ve done it on me. The old man died last evening, and Johann was proclaimed this morning at nine o’clock.”

  The Grand Duchess never moved.

  “Why are you here?” she said.

  “Grieg came for me yesterday evening. The Prince wanted me, he said. He had a blind car, and before I knew where I was we were out of the city and flicking hell for leather along the Austrian road. I’d have broken his neck, but he shoved a gun in my ribs. About half past ten we got out on some country road. I’ve never seen such rain. Then another car comes up and Grieg tells me to get inside. You couldn’t argue the point in rain like that. I tell you it was too awful. Besides, he had a gun…

  “Well, it was the wrong car. Belonged to these English fellows – they’d been catching fish. I put them wise, and between us we flattened Grieg out. Spent the night at some village in a fly-blown inn. Grieg cleared out in the night and left this note.” I saw a paper pass. “I was just leaving for Vigil when somebody brought it in.”

  The Grand Duchess read the note and handed it back. Then she spoke in English as clear and clean as could be.

  “Why are you here?”

  The Duke took out cigarettes.

  “To put you wise, of course, Leonie.”

  “You could have telephoned: and – well, unless you mean to sit down under—”

  “Of course I don’t,” cried the Duke.

  “Then why aren’t you at Vigil?”

  “I’m going,” said the Duke. “I’m going.” He lighted a cigarette and stared at its fiery end. “So you advise—”

  The Grand Duchess laughed.

  “Nothing, Paul. I’m not – interested.”

  The Duke looked up sharply.

  “I should have thought,” he began.

  “I know. Most people would.”

  “Don’t you want to be Princess?”

  “I never did,” said the girl: “but I used to have a weakness for seeing people come by their rights. But you’ve got me out of that.”

  I cannot describe the scorn with which her words were spoken. It was a quiet, cold disdain, more evident to us, I fancy, than to the Duke himself. This and her use of English made me feel sure that she was determined that we strangers should know the truth, lest we should hold her shameless in being betrothed to such a man.

  “Hang it, Leonie,” said the Duke. “I didn’t come for a pi-jaw.”

  “I know. You came for advice. Or was it to put me wise? Never mind. I’ve no advice to give you, but I can give you some news.”

  “News?”

  “News. That note’s a lie. It was very nearly true. Grieg, of course, hoped it was true, and he guessed that, true or false, it would keep you out of Vigil for several hours. The Prince had a stroke last night at half past five. Everyone thought it was the end, but at half past six he rallied and at eight o’clock this morning he was doing extremely well.”

  “You’re joking,” cried the Duke hoarsely.

  “Of course I’m not,” said the girl. “Marya Dresden telephoned to me last night. And she rang up again this morning to tell me I needn’t come.”

  The Duke whooped, flung his hat into the air and began to dance grotesquely and to play a phantom banjo…

  That the man would now expect us to drive him to Vigil forthwith I had no doubt, and, all things considered, I did not see how we could well refuse to convey him at least as far as the frontier of Riechtenburg. I, therefore, started the engine and set about turning the car.

  There was not too much room, for an idle fountain stood in the middle of the court, and, the outlet of this being in course of repair, the court itself had been opened, to let a man come at the drain.

  By the time, therefore, that I had gone about, the Grand Duchess was off her horse, which a groom was leading away, and the Duke was urging some point with a sheepish look on his face.

  As I brought the car to rest, the Grand Duchess cut him short.

  “I’ve told you,” she said, using German, “I do not care. I wish you no ill, of course. But I wouldn’t lift a finger to save your throne.”

  With that, she turned her head and her eyes met mine.

  I was gazing at her as at something which is not of this world; for, now that I saw her clearly, her beauty was so excelling that, for all the good they did me, I might have had no manners and indeed no one of the senses, save only that of sight.

  She had pulled off her hat, and her soft, short hair was so black that the lights in its waves were blue. Her nose was aquiline, and her steady, grave eyes were grey. Her mouth was especially lovely, but very proud: her colour was high and healthy and her skin very white and, indeed, her whole countenance was fine and fresh and vivid as a flower may be in a garden before the sun is high. She was slim and tall for a woman and stood very well. There was nothing about her which was not feminine, yet it was very plain that her little finger was thicker than the Duke’s loins. Her look was keen and fearless, her temples were wise, and I have never seen such dignity so artlessly displayed.

  As I gazed, I saw her displeasure and hastily bowed my head to examine the instrument-board, but my cheeks and my ears were burning, and so, when I think of that moment, they do to this day.

  The Grand Duchess was speaking in English.

  “You may as well introduce them if I am to give them lunch.”

  The words stung like a whip, and almost before I knew it I was standing by the side of the car with my hat in my hand.

  I addressed myself to the Duke.

  “We never lunch,” I said quietly, “but, if you’d like us to give you a lift to Vigil, we’ll throw a fly over that water and be back here in two hours.”

  The Duke stared at me.

  “D’you mean you never—”

  “Never,” said I shortly, and glanced at my watch. “Shall we say half past one?”

  “That’ll suit me all right,” said the Duke. “But don’t you want a drink, or—”

  But I was back in my seat.

  “At half past one,” I said, smiling, and let in the clutch.

  Now George, who had never descended, was up on his feet, and the servants had only just time to get aboard: when, therefore, the car shot forward, each clawed hold of the other and all fell down in a heap upon the back seat, presenting a spectacle which must have been more diverting than the antics of any clowns. But the first I knew of it was the long, fresh peal of a girl’s laughter ringing under the archway as the Rolls passed over the bridge.

  We did not fish, but, since on leaving Salzburg we had taken food for two days, we lunched in a blowing meadow ten miles away.

  I cannot pretend that we made a festive meal.

  We had put ourselves out and about for a notorious wastrel, who accepted our services as though the privilege of doing them
greatly outweighed their worth: I had forgotten my manners in a most unfortunate way, and in return we had been deliberately insulted by a girl who was plainly no more than twenty years old, who, by her relation to the Duke, might very well be considered to be in our debt: my zeal to be gone had made us a laughing-stock – a point upon which the Grand Duchess had taken care to insist; and, worst of all, I had in my haste engaged us to suffer for another five hours a well-nigh insufferable guest.

  However, there was nothing to be done, and I gratefully remember that George very handsomely declined to blame me at all, declaring that if there had been anything to retrieve, I had much more than retrieved it by my very pointed refusal to meet the Grand Duchess at all, “while as for staring,” he added, “I don’t know what the hussy expects. If she likes to look like a Madonna, talk like Queen Elizabeth and get her clothes made in Savile Row, anyone may be pardoned for staring. And now let’s go back and swallow the rest of our gruel. I’m going to drive and you’re going to sit with me, and if the Duke don’t like the back seat he can damned well sit on the floor.”

  At the hour appointed we were back in the old courtyard.

  A manservant saw our coming and disappeared, but, as though to prove our patience, nobody came to the door; and after waiting ten minutes I bade Rowley ring the bell.

  After another five minutes the manservant reappeared and descended the steps. I saw that the man was English.

  “Her Highness hopes, sir,” he said, “that you will come in.”

  “Beg her Highness to excuse us,” I said. “And tell his Highness Duke Paul that, if he has no objection, we are anxious to start at once.”

  “Very good, sir,” said the man, and withdrew.

  For a moment or two we sat waiting. Then the Grand Duchess appeared at the head of the steps.

  “So I must come myself,” she said quietly.

  Hanbury and I uncovered, but sat where we were.

  “I’m sorry I spoke so rudely and I should like to be friends.”

  I opened my door and alighted, and Hanbury followed me out.

  “The fault was mine,” I stammered, with my eyes on the ground.

  As though I had not spoken she turned to George.

  “I saw you looking at the bay. If you’re interested in horses, I can show you a better than he.”

  “We’d love to see him,” said Hanbury.

  She led the way over the cobbles and under another arch…

  She never addressed me once, but when we had seen her three hunters she led us into the house by another way. I hardly looked at her, except when her back was turned, but she had changed her clothes for a dress of an old rose colour which suited her very well.

  As we came into a hall, a woman of many summers rose from a table at which she was writing a note, and the Duke cried ‘Hullo’ from the sofa on which he sprawled.

  The Grand Duchess introduced us, and I was astonished to find that the Duke, who must have informed her, had so well remembered our names.

  “My great-aunt, Mrs Scarlett,” she said. And then, “My mother was English. That’s why I speak so well.”

  “We needn’t start yet,” said the Duke. “Sit down and have a brandy. I’ve tasted worse.”

  Before we could make any answer, a telephone-bell was ringing somewhere at hand,

  The Grand Duchess flashed to a corner, and I heard her reply.

  “Yes…this is Anger. Yes, Marya, this is me… He’s here, he’s here, Marya. He’s just going to start for Vigil: he ought to be there by six… He’ll tell you himself: I can’t tell you over the line, but… What?… I can’t quite hear, Marya. ‘Tell him…’” She took the second earpiece and listened with all her might. “Yes, I’ve got that. I will. And… Very well. At eight o’clock this evening, if you’ve no news before. Goodbye, Marya.”

  She put the receiver back and turned to the Duke.

  “The Prince is worse,” she said. “The doctors won’t say he’s sinking, but he’s awfully bad. Marya says you must come as quick as ever you can. Her words were ‘Tell him it’s vital – you can guess what I mean.’”

  The Duke was biting his nails.

  “It’s all damned fine,” he said. “These sort of shows can’t be rushed. What on earth did you say I was here for?”

  The Grand Duchess stared at him.

  “Why shouldn’t I say so? What do you propose to do?”

  “Go carefully,” said the Duke. “I’m not at all sure that it’s wise to go bursting back.”

  “I suppose by ‘wise’ you mean ‘safe’?”

  Mrs Scarlett covered her eyes, but the Duke’s withers were unwrung.

  “It’s all Weber’s fault,” he cried, “for withdrawing those blasted police. They police me in Paris and London. Why the devil don’t they police me at home?” He got to his feet. “I’ll ring him up and tell him to send some along.”

  The Grand Duchess appeared to hesitate. Then she went to his side.

  “Paul,” she said, “listen to me. It’s vital that you should get back and state your case. Till you appear and start talking, Johann, Grieg and Co. can have it all their own way: but once the Prince knows what’s happened, Johann won’t dare to touch you – that’s common sense. And now get ready. I’m coming with you.” The Duke started, and the old lady rose to her feet. “I may as well be at Vigil, and – well, it’d rather amuse me to flatten Johann.”

  Before he could answer she was gone, and, since there was no point in our waiting, we took our leave of her great-aunt and made our way back to the car.

  I was astounded at this complete change of front. Her declarations apart, three hours ago I could have sworn that the girl did not care a farthing whether Duke Paul or his cousin came to the throne. More. She had seemed to care for his honour less than he cared for it himself. This in cold blood. Such an outlook had not surprised me. To know him was to lose interest in such a man. And now…

  As Hanbury took his seat, I reflected that it was at least more pleasant to carry to Vigil one who was worth her salt.

  We were twenty miles from the frontier when I saw a closed car ahead by the side of the road. Of this I thought little enough, but we had encountered very little traffic, and I think that when you are moving on empty roads you always observe a car which is standing still.

  As we drew near, I could see that someone was standing beside the car and was watching us closely, as though he were more than half minded to signal to us to stop; but, when we drew nearer, I saw him turn back to his car and shake his head.

  I was wondering what was his business and for whom, if not us, he was watching, when he looked round again. The next instant he was out in the road and was waving his arms.

  Hanbury spoke over his shoulder.

  “Am I to stop?”

  “What? Yes. Stop!” cried the Duke. “Stop, man, stop! It’s the police. Good old Weber.” I heard him slap his thigh. “Marya Dresden must have told him. Oh, my aunt, what a scream!”

  I give his own words, as he spoke them, for, though as a rule, he spoke German, he very often used English and spoke it extremely well. But I cannot represent his jubilant tone or the awkwardness of the silence which succeeded his speech. The man was above shame.

  As George set his foot upon the brake, another man came running to join the first. Both wore a grey uniform which was bound with green.

  As the car stopped, they saluted.

  “Pardon, your Highness,” said the first, who had stripes on his sleeve, “but we have been sent to escort you.”

  “That’s the style,” said the Duke, and, without asking Hanbury or me, he bade them mount the Rolls and stand on her running-boards.

  The sergeant looked ill-at-ease.

  “Your Highness will excuse me,” he said, “but we were instructed that your Highness would use the police car.”

  The Duke frowned.

  The Rolls was very good-looking and moved like a bird on the wing: the other was closed and shabby and the noisy fuss of it
s engine promised a less pleasant ride.

  “No,” he said shortly. “I’m going to stay where I am. Get on the step, as I tell you, and your driver can follow behind.”

  “Your Highness will forgive me,” said the sergeant, “but we have had special instructions not to go by the bridge at Elsa, but to follow a devious route.”

  There was a little silence.

  Then—

  “Does the chauffeur know the way?” said the Duke.

  “Yes, your Highness, he does. And he alone. So—”

  “Then we’ll follow him,” said the Duke, lighting a cigarette.

  There was nothing more to be said, and, though George and I were raging inwardly, for the sake of the Grand Duchess we held our peace.

  One minute later we were again under way.

  Our speed was now much lower, for our pilot was not a swift car and was troubled by every rise. Very soon, moreover, it left the main road, leading us into country through which no car could hasten, for the roads were none too wide and very crooked, the hills severe and most of the turnings blind.

  We had gone, I suppose, some three miles and had just descended the very deuce of a hill, when we rounded a sudden bend to see the police car at rest in the midst of the way. Where it stood, the road was sunk in a little swell of the forest which lay hereabouts, and we could not draw alongside to see what the matter might be.

  As George brought the Rolls to a standstill, the sergeant stepped into the road and opened the hinder door.

  “Your Highness will descend immediately.”

  We all stared at him.

  “And no one else will move,” said a voice on my left.

  Instinctively we all looked round.

  The other policeman was still on the running-board, half sitting on the near spare wheel, with one hand grasping the windscreen and the other a Service revolver of which he seemed none too sure.

  “God in heaven,” said the Duke weakly. “And I thought you were police.”

  The first speaker bowed.

  “We flatter ourselves,” he said, “a very natural mistake.”

  As the Duke rose, the man on my left incautiously lowered his weapon, and I hit him full in the stomach with all my might. It was, of course, a foul blow, and he crumpled and then fell sideways without a sound.