Blood Royal

by Yates, Dornford

  At this moment Grieg’s wrist was up, but, he swept it down with a ghastly croak of triumph, and before I could grasp his meaning, fired full at George’s face.

  The horror of that action sent the blood to my head.

  The fury of hatred possessed me as never before, and I think I was mad for a moment and was given a madman’s strength.

  He must have resisted my onslaught, but I cannot remember that he did so, and he might have been a lay figure for all the opposition I knew.

  I tore the pistol from his fingers and hurled it down. Then I took him by the throat with both hands, thrust him to the front of the box and cast him bodily over the balustrade.

  As I swung about, panting—

  “Well done, sir,” said Bell’s voice.

  The light of his torch blinded me, and I bade him throw the beam on to George and went down on my knees.

  There was upon him no blood that I could see, but he, of course, was senseless and could not speak for himself. I therefore dragged off his coats and turned him about, but his shirt as far as his waist was nowhere stained. As I laid him back I noticed a graze on his chin which might have been made by a bullet that passed him by. Recalling as well as I could the angle at which the infamous shot had been fired, I ripped away the carpet at the edge of the box and there to my relief saw a bullet sunk in the wood.

  “He missed him,” I said unsteadily, and very near burst into tears.

  Then I got to my feet and leaned back against the wall.

  “Who have you got there?” I said.

  “I don’t know, sir,” said Bell from the doorway. “There’s one lying out in the passage, and this one put up his hands.”

  “Give me the torch,” said I.

  I saw a tall pock-marked fellow, with beady eyes, good enough, I should say, for a murder, but not very fond of a fight, for he looked the picture of terror, and, feeling my eyes upon him, he wrung out a sickly smile.

  “D’you belong to this café?” I said.

  He shook his head.

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I often come in the evenings.”

  “And sometimes you’re wanted,” said I, “for this sort of work.”

  He made me some shuffling answer I could not understand.

  “Did you know the lights would go out?”

  He nodded fearfully.

  “Who told you?”

  “The manager gave me a sign.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I went to the head of the stairs.”

  That was enough for me. The man was a common bully, known to The Square of Carpet and always ready for hire.

  “Listen,” said I. “We shall both of us know you again. If you lie about tonight’s work you can pray for your soul.”

  The fellow grinned horribly and seemed to sag at the knees.

  I told him to turn to his left and lead the way…

  The manager was lying as we had laid him down, but his heart was beating strongly and the blood from the wound on his head was beginning to cake. By his side lay a loaded truncheon, caught by a thong to his wrist. I had missed it when I searched him, for his sleeve had fallen upon it when we laid the man down; and truly the sight of it shocked me, for I ought to have known that the man would never have sought us without a weapon of some kind, and had I but looked till I found it neither George nor I would have had so narrow an escape.

  We returned to ‘Box Seventeen’.

  The man that Bell had knocked senseless was now showing signs of life, and, when he was fit to sit up, I drove him on to his feet. Then I bade him and his comrade take up George Hanbury gently and carry him down to the door. Bell went before them, and I, with Grieg’s torch and pistol, followed behind.

  We were down at last and were standing in the sinister hall.

  There Bell and I took George Hanbury, holding him up between us, with his arms round our necks.

  Then I addressed the two men.

  “No doubt you’d like to clear out, but you won’t do that. My friend was drugged. The manager went for me and I knocked him out. Major Grieg fired at my friend and I threw him out of the box. You’re going to go to the police and tell them these facts. Excuse yourselves if you can: but tell half a lie about me and I’ll hunt you down and break you as you deserve. And now lead on. If you try to escape we shall shoot. Make straight for the cathedral. Accost the first policeman you see and take no notice of us.”

  We passed out into the street.

  There was a policeman on duty, pacing the cathedral square. At a nod from me the two walked boldly towards him, and, when I had seen them accost him, Bell and I bore away. A moment later we were beneath the shadow cast by the church.

  We found a sheltered corner, and there I sat down, with Hanbury lying beside me and his head in my lap.

  And, while Bell ran for the Rolls, I fell asleep.

  If I slept then, I slept no more that night; but passed the hours in an infirmity of purpose of which I shall always be ashamed.

  In the ordinary way I should have summoned a doctor, for I had no means of telling whether George was in danger or no. Yet, if there was trouble to come, my disclosure of George’s condition would involve us up to the neck.

  That trouble was coming seemed likely. That I had killed Grieg seemed certain, for he fell some sixteen feet and had uttered no sound. I found it hard to believe that, if he were dead, no action would be taken to bring his assailant to book.

  Of the ultimate result of such action I had no fear, but I greatly feared an inquest at which I should be cross-questioned and requested to furnish a reason for Grieg’s attempt upon our lives.

  It follows that, unless one was needed, to call in a doctor was the last thing I wanted to do – yet, if Hanbury’s condition required one, the very first.

  Between these two courses I hovered, as a dog between two masters that are calling him different ways, with my hand upon George’s pulse, which I was forever locating and immediately losing again.

  I was so much occupied with my dilemma that not until Bell was leaving to go to his bed did I remember to ask him how he happened to be in the background at the moment when I needed him most.

  His tale was soon told.

  “I knew you weren’t armed, sir, and all of a sudden I wondered if it might be a trap: so I put the Rolls away and walked back to see. Just as I got there people were coming away; but I didn’t see you. When they were all of them gone, I went inside. It was all in darkness, and I was just turning away, when I heard something fall with a crash The next moment you called Mr Hanbury. Of course I knew from your voice there was something amiss, but I had no torch of my own, and I thought I should never reach you till I found the foot of the stairs.”

  “We owe you our lives,” said I.

  “Oh, no, sir,” said Bell.

  “Yes, we do. But for the light of your torch, Grieg wouldn’t have seen Mr Hanbury and wouldn’t have fired. It was that that made me see red and throw him out.”

  This was the plain truth: and I am very certain that, if Bell had not had the wit to go to The Square of Carpet, neither George nor I would have ever been seen again. Indeed, I learned later on that the place was believed to be the grave of several strangers who, finding nowhere to sleep, had gone to The Square of Carpet to make a night of it and had been, poor fellows, so cordially abetted in this artless enterprise that they had been seen no more.

  It was past midday when to my great relief George Hanbury opened his eyes. What was more, beyond a shocking headache and an astonishing thirst, he seemed not one penny the worse and was all agog in an instant to hear my tale.

  That trouble might come of Grieg’s death he would not allow, “because,” said he, “who goes to The Square of Carpet goes to the wars: enter that den of thieves and you put yourself out of court.” Though I agreed that we had now little to fear – for the only witnesses of our concern with the matter would, I was sure, respect my menaces – I could not help thinking tha
t Vigil could scarce be so lawless that no hue and cry would be raised: but the question was never settled, because, except in our mouths, it never arose.

  Grieg’s bodyservant was sent for that afternoon, and that evening our butler told Rowley that Grieg had had the misfortune to break both his legs. If his life was ever in danger I do not know, but, all things considered, I count him a fortunate man. I imagine he held his tongue – as did everyone else. What story was told to the police I neither know nor care, but I doubt that they asked any questions or did any more than bestow the injured men.

  For myself, I was very stiff, and one side of my face was bruised and something swollen from temple to chin: but the following day the swelling had disappeared, and since my eye was not black, no one, I think, would have known that I had suffered violence of any sort. This was as well, for the day after that was Wednesday, and the butler had procured us two stalls for the gala performance of Tosca which the Grand Duchess was to attend. Still, I was well content to fleet two days securely, passing much of my time in the loggia and generally taking my ease, for our hour at The Square of Carpet had shaken me, and, whenever I see the word ‘death-trap’, I think of a row of boxes and a passage that has no end.

  Though we rested, we did not waste time, but continually reviewed the position in the hope of perceiving some way of mating Johann.

  George very soon came round to my way of thinking, namely, that command of the palace was as good as command of the throne; but, though we approached the pass from a hundred angles, we could see no feasible way of preventing or even of curing the mischief which the death of the Prince would most surely unloose.

  Morning and afternoon the Grand Duchess drove out with Duke Paul. If the papers may be believed, their visits afforded great pleasure wherever they went. How much of that emotion was inspired by the sight of Duke Paul I cannot tell, but though the reports made good reading and though I was sure that Johann must bear the Grand Duchess a grudge, I could not believe that he had just cause for alarm and I could not see Riechtenburg rising to pull him out of the saddle and set up Duke Paul.

  We never questioned Bell or Rowley about their new work, relying upon them to tell us if anything happened of which we ought to be told. On Tuesday they came back radiant, because they had driven Sully, who had, it seemed, talked to them freely and had shaken them both by the hand. “And, if you please, sir,” said Rowley, “speaking of Maintenance, he said that the house was well named, and her ladyship laughed and cried out ‘Like masters, like men.’” When I spoke of the morrow, they said the Grand Duchess had said that she would not need them by day, but that she would be glad of their service at half past eight that night.

  I had expected so much and was considerably tempted to make one of the crowd at the doors of the opera-house, to give myself the pleasure of watching my lady arrive; for I was childishly eager to see her using our car as a state conveyance and our servants waiting upon her and discharging their elegant office as best they knew. But, if I had done so, I could not have been in my place in time to witness her entrance into the house, and to miss that would have been foolish, for the occasion was extraordinary and Duke Paul’s and her reception was sure to signify matter which I should be able to read.

  Accordingly, Hanbury and I were in our seats in good time, with our eyes and our ears wide open and very well pleased with our stalls, which gave us an excellent view of the royal box.

  The theatre was not very large. Its less expensive parts were already full, the white linen clothing of the peasants contrasting strangely with their neighbours’ attire. A constant stream was filling the rest of the house, and a better opportunity of observing the burghers of Vigil I cannot conceive.

  The women were mostly handsome and very smart, but few wore jewels of any value, and I do not remember one vulgar or copious display. The men, though courtly, were not very well turned out: but they were a shrewd-looking lot, reserved, slow alike to laughter and wrath and not at all of the kind that is carried away. There were several officers present, all of them wearing full dress: quite a third of these were clad in the black and gold of the Black Hussars – a fact which mildly surprised me, for I had imagined that bodyguard duty permitted but little leave and that all the regiment was as good as confined to barracks until that duty was done.

  This opinion was swiftly confirmed.

  “Half the Body Guard’s here,” said a man who was seated behind me. “That comes of a colonel who has the ear of the Prince.”

  “It’s irregular,” said his companion, “But Johann is a law to himself.”

  “He fears the Prince,” said the other.

  “Soon he will have no one to fear,” was the dark reply.

  Here I missed a sentence or two, for George and I had to rise to allow some newcomers to pass.

  As we sat down—

  “He is not popular enough,” said the man who had spoken first. “The people’s darling can take his neighbour’s wife, and the world will dance at his wedding: but anyone else will have to change his café.”

  “My friend,” said the other, “I think you employ seven clerks. Because there are fireworks at the palace, are you going to give them a holiday that they may go and throw stones?”

  I could not hear the answer, but I could guess what it was.

  “A hundred years ago,” said the other, “the throne touched every shepherd that sleeps on the hills: but now a penny stamp costs three half pence, no matter whose image it bears.”

  Here the orchestra began to tune up, and a rustle of expectation ran through the house. Everyone’s face was turned to the royal box, and a little knot of people that had not taken their seats was held by an attendant in a doorway against its will.

  I heard the conductor’s baton strike on his music-stand.

  Then the footlights went up, the music burst out and everyone got to their feet.

  The Grand Duchess was in all her glory. A diamond tiara adorned her beautiful head, diamonds flashed from her throat and a heavy diamond bracelet was blazing upon her left arm. Over her white silk frock the crimson sash of some order hung from bare shoulder to waist.

  As she came to her place, the cheering broke out, but, instead of bowing, she turned at once to Duke Paul who had followed her in. As he took his place, she made him a reverence – this very slowly and with infinite grace, and I am glad to say that he bowed low in return. Then they turned to the house and bowed their thanks, she making it very clear that the homage rendered was his and falling back a little to point her argument.

  The Duke was in uniform and bore himself well enough.

  In the midst of the scene, which was very cordial, a man stepped out of the background to stand between the Duke and my lady in the front of the box.

  It was Duke Johann – come to share a triumph he could not prevent.

  I saw the Grand Duchess observe him and I saw her start of surprise. The next instant her little gold bag fell into the aisle below.

  As a voice cried ‘Hurray for Johann,’ she addressed Johann and pointed, and I saw him look down.

  With her hand still pointing to the gangway, she smiled and spoke again and looked him full in the face.

  The gesture was unmistakable. She was requesting him to send someone to recover her bag.

  I never saw her look so charming, so gracious and so royal.

  Johann was gravelled.

  Obey, and he was her servant: refuse, and he was no gentleman.

  For a moment the fellow wavered. Then he turned to the back of the box.

  As the cheering died suddenly down, the Grand Duchess took her seat, and the Duke took his. An instant later the lights in the house were lowered, and the overture was begun.

  “And so to bed,” murmured George. “I’ll bet a ducat that Johann has sent for his car. And I don’t envy his chauffeur – or his ox or his ass or anything that is his. I’ve seen styles cramped before: but that was a permanent wave.”

  The first act was over, and we ha
d just risen and passed to the end of our row, when a servant of the theatre was beside us and was asking very respectfully if we would show him the counterfoils of the tickets which had vouched for our seats.

  When I produced mine, he immediately handed me a note upon which was written in pencil the number of my stall.

  That this was from the Grand Duchess I had little doubt, for I had told Bell how to find me in case any need should arise.

  The servant did not wait for an answer, but left at once.

  I opened the note quickly.

  Anger has been burned to the ground. May I have the car to drive there this very night?

  I thrust the note into my pocket and turned to George.

  “Come to the hall,” I said.

  George told me later that I was trembling with rage. I daresay it is true. For I knew that Anger had been burned, not by accident, but by design.

  No matter whose hand had done it, Johann was the fountain of malice from which this horror had sprung.

  The Grand Duchess was dangerous. The burning of Anger would distract her – draw her away from the scene. More. A woman of less precious metal could not have appeared at the theatre, with her ears singing from such a barbarous blow. Besides, maybe it would teach her to keep her hand out of the pie.

  George read the note and caught his lip in his teeth.

  “Poor lady,” he said quietly. “That’s a hell of a price to pay for backing a rotten horse.”

  “I shall go with her,” I said. “In Rowley’s place.” He nodded. “But promise me this – that, until I get back, you’ll never go out alone. Our score’s more heavy than hers. St Martin, Barabbas, Grieg and the use of the Rolls. Johann’s got it in for us red-hot.”

  “I’ll hold the fort,” said George. “But for heaven’s sake don’t be long. If the Prince dies while she’s away – well, it’ll be a walk-over for Johann. And, in view of this ‘frightfulness’ – because that is what it is – he ought to have to put up a fight.”

  Be sure I agreed with him.