“Torrer. Rubber heel salesman,” Sandoval returned instinctively, preferring not to tell the truth.
“Tell me,” the other whispered: “What are we actually supposed to do, if in fact the King …?”
“Ssssh!” Sandoval hissed fiercely.
The winding stairway went on forever, leading them to higher and higher levels. Then an iron door swung open and they found themselves in a small room, barely able to contain their number.
Mawiras-Tendal disappeared through a tiny doorway. A second later he was back.
“Come this way.”
They stepped into a much larger room, brightly lit. The Major assigned each man to his place. They were standing in a semicircle before a finely wrought door that opened outwards from the room they were in. As men do in moments of crisis, Sandoval found himself nervously eyeing every detail, no longer able to account for any of them rationally: the imposing marble fireplace, the ornate Renaissance table that bore nothing but a cage, and inside that cage a canary, the King’s favourite …
Mawiras-Tendal opened the door, stood holding it wide, and announced in ringing tones:
“The Nameless Captain!”
In a silence haloed with mystery, a man entered the room. He might have been in uniform, but all that could be seen of it were the patent leather boots and high gold-braided collar: the rest could only be surmised under the large, white, theatrical cloak that covered it. His face was masked. For a few moments he looked at the conspirators in silence.
“I greet you, brave men,” he said at last, in a quiet, almost ceremonial voice. “You have, every one of you, taken an oath of allegiance to me without knowing who I am. For that you have my special thanks. The time has now come for us to convert our ideas into reality. Within the hour the general uprising will have begun. We have worked on every smallest detail, and events will unfold precisely according to plan. Gentlemen, you are the ones who stormed the Royal Palace.”
A frisson of delight ran down Sandoval’s spine. They had indeed ‘stormed’ the royal palace, as people would later read. It was a shame, perhaps, that the ‘storming’ had proved so much less romantic than he had imagined. But he had learnt to live with the fact that life was never as colourful as his fantasies. Zizigan, from the look of him, was almost overcome by the fact that he too was one of the ‘storming’ party. The consciousness of it had so completely overwhelmed him that he turned pale and had to steady himself by grabbing the back of an armchair.
“The demonstrators will march past the palace,” the Nameless Captain continued. “We cannot say precisely how the inmates will respond to this, or whether they will offer resistance. Your role will be to act as my bodyguard. Major Mawiras-Tendal will give the necessary orders.”
Zizigan gave a deep sigh, and sank dizzily into the chair. The Nameless Captain stopped speaking and stared at him for a moment, then, as if suddenly remembering where he was, continued:
“Gentlemen, there is no cause for alarm. I can personally guarantee that not a hair of your heads will be harmed. This whole process is in fact nothing more than a formality.”
Zizigan turned to the canary, with a bewildered expression on his face.
“Cheep cheep,” he murmured, like a man on the point of death.
The Nameless Captain seemed about to burst out laughing behind his mask, and he quickly turned his face away towards Mawiras-Tendal. The Major remained deadly serious, his expression one of the refined disdain a gentleman officer might feel for the civilian volunteer.
“Now I must leave you to yourselves,” the Nameless Captain concluded. “Be quiet, and patient, until it is your turn for action.”
As he left, it suddenly struck Sandoval that the voice and enunciation were familiar. But no way could he recall where he had heard them before.
King Oliver made his way through to Princess Ortrud’s apartment.
The princess had now resided in Lara for a week, but because of the general situation she had scarcely been out of the palace, and she was intensely bored. And yet she was very fond of Alturia and its people. Norlandians were invariably attracted to countries more colourful and exciting than their own, and those who had the means to do so were forever escaping abroad.
Since a child, she had always yearned for romantic Alturia, and now here she was, and they wouldn’t allow her to go anywhere other than the palace park, where there were no fishermen in traditional costume to be seen, no picturesque cottages or folk dances — nothing of the wonderland she was so familiar with from her reading. She drew comfort from the fact that she was able to be with Oliver so often. She was sincerely and naively in love with him, as romantically as perhaps only a young princess can be.
Oliver found her in the company of Baron Birker, her country’s ambassador. He kissed his fiancée’s hand and greeted the visitor.
“How beautiful you are today, Oliver,” she said, in a voice filled with emotion.
“And you too, Ortrud, you too,” he replied absent-mindedly, and turned to the ambassador. “How are you, how are you, my dear Baron?”
“Your Highness, the people’s behaviour is becoming more and more alarming. In the outlying suburb of Mahal, I hear it’s come to violent clashes between the mob and some soldiers.”
“Serves them right. Why do the military have to poke their noses into everything?” the King remarked apathetically.
“The university students placed a Boer’s hat, in the national colours, on the head of General Mawiras-Tendal’s statue, and unknown perpetrators poured tar over the image of General Larcas who put the revolution down. I’m afraid there could be further atrocities.”
“I know all this, my dear Birker. The King’s first duty is to watch over the happiness of his people. The inhabitants of my capital are indeed restless, but they tell me the excitement of the wedding will restore calm. But at all events I must advise you to go home immediately, and to lock yourself away in the ambassadorial residence. I’ll make sure that my most loyal regiment, the Twelfth, is on guard at the palace tonight. So please, get back quickly: this is not the time for a gentle stroll.”
There was no arguing with a royal command, even from so frivolous a king as Oliver VII. Birker took his leave and departed, seething with anger.
“Thank heavens you’ve sent that tedious man away,” the Princess remarked. “I was already bored enough by your absence. It’s horrible the way they keep me prisoner. At home I always had some source of amusement. I once had to inspect a hospital, and I was asked to open a flower show, and a sort of general assembly for a society for the protection of animals … ”
“I’m bored too, Ortrud: let that thought comfort you. And I’m bored not only when I’m a prisoner in the palace, as now, but also when I open flower shows and animal protection meetings: in fact, even more so on those occasions.”
“But why? I love to be out among people … ”
“Me too. But not like that. Sitting on a platform, with a smiling face, full of envy for those seated below. I would love to be down there, Ortrud, right down there … among the people.”
“But we could never do that. What would they say at Court?”
“Of course. So let’s just leave it there. From tomorrow, everything will be different.”
“Oliver, you’re so impatient,” the Princess remarked with a happy smile. “I too wish it was tomorrow, on my word of honour.”
“From tomorrow, I shall be a different person.”
“Me too.”
“You too, very good. Why you?”
“But Oliver! Everyone says that marriage means a huge change in a woman’s life … ”
“Of course, of course. What can an unmarried girl know of life? And tell me, are you pleased by the idea of this great change?”