Merriwig regarded him with admiration. This was indeed a Chancellor.
"The very words," he answered, "which I said to myself when the idea came to me. 'The fact,' I said, 'that this will help us to win the war, must not disguise from us the fact that the King of Barodia will look extremely funny without his whiskers.' To–night I shall sally forth and put my plan into practice."
At midnight, then, he started out. The Chancellor awaited his return with some anxiety. This might well turn out to be the decisive stroke (or strokes) of the war. For centuries past the ruling monarchs of Barodia had been famous for their ginger whiskers. "As lost as the King of Barodia without his whiskers" was indeed a proverb of those times. A King without a pair, and at such a crisis in his country's fortunes! It was inconceivable. At the least he would have to live in retirement until they grew again, and without the leadership of their King the Barodian army would become a rabble.
The Chancellor was not distressed at the thought; he was looking forward to his return to Euralia, where he kept a comfortable house. It was not that his life in the field was uninteresting; he had as much work to do as any man. It was part of his business, for instance, to test the pretentions of any new wizard or spell–monger who was brought into the camp. Such and such a quack would seek an interview on the pretext that for five hundred crowns he could turn the King of Barodia into a small black pig. He would be brought before the Chancellor.
"You say that you can turn a man into a small black pig?" the Chancellor would ask.
"Yes, your lordship. It came to me from my grandmother."
"Then turn me," the Chancellor would say simply.
The so–called wizard would try. As soon as the incantation was over, the Chancellor surveyed himself in the mirror. Then he nodded to a couple of soldiers, and the impostor was tied backwards on to a mule and driven with jeers out of the camp. There were many such impostors (who at least made a mule out of it), and the Chancellor's life did not lack excitement.
But he yearned now for the simple comforts of his home. He liked pottering about his garden, when his work at the Palace was finished; he liked, over the last meal of the day, to tell his wife all the important things he had been doing since he had seen her, and to impress her with the fact that he was the holder of many state secrets which she must not attempt to drag from him. A woman of less tact would have considered the subject closed at this point, but she knew that he was only longing to be persuaded. However, as she always found the secrets too dull to tell any one else, no great harm was done.
"Just help me off with this cloak," said a voice in front of him.
The Chancellor felt about until his hands encountered a solid body. He undid the cloak and the King stood revealed before him.
"Thanks. Well, I've done it. It went to my heart to do it at the last moment, so beautiful they were, but I nerved myself to it. Poor soul, he slept like a lamb through it all. I wonder what he'll say when he wakes up."
"Did you bring them back with you?" asked the Chancellor excitedly.
"My dear Chancellor, what a question!" He produced them from his pocket. "In the morning we'll run them up on the flagstaff for all Barodia to see."
"He won't like that," said the Chancellor, chuckling.
"I don't quite see what he can do about it," said Merriwig.
The King of Barodia didn't quite see either.
A fit of sneezing woke him up that morning, and at the same moment he felt a curious draught about his cheeks. He put his hand up and immediately knew the worst.
"Hullo, there!" he bellowed to the sentry outside the door.
"Your Majesty," said the sentry, coming in with alacrity.
The King bobbed down again at once.
"Send the Chancellor to me," said an angry voice from under the bedclothes.
When the Chancellor came in it was to see the back only of his august monarch.
"Chancellor," said the King, "prepare yourself for a shock."
"Yes, sir," said the Chancellor, trembling exceedingly.
"You are about to see something which no man in the history of Barodia has ever seen before."
The Chancellor, not having the least idea what to expect, waited nervously. The next moment the tent seemed to swim before his eyes, and he knew no more….
When he came to, the King was pouring a jug of water down his neck and murmuring rough words of comfort in his ear.
"Oh, your Majesty," said the poor Chancellor, "your Majesty! I don't know what to say, your Majesty." He mopped at himself as he spoke, and the water trickled from him on to the floor.
"Pull yourself together," said the King sternly. "We shall want all your wisdom, which is notoriously not much, to help us in this crisis."
"Your Majesty, who has dared to do this grievous thing?"
"You fool, how should I know? Do you think they did it while I was awake?"
The Chancellor stiffened a little. He was accustomed to being called a fool; but that was by a man with a terrifying pair of ginger whiskers. From the rather fat and uninspiring face in front of him he was inclined to resent it.
"What does your Majesty propose to do?" he asked shortly.
"I propose to do the following. Upon you rests the chief burden."
The Chancellor did not look surprised.
"It will be your part to break the news as gently as possible to my people. You will begin by saying that I am busy with a great enchanter who has called to see me, and that therefore I am unable to show myself to my people this morning. Later on in the day you will announce that the enchanter has shown me how to defeat the wicked Euralians; you will dwell upon the fact that this victory, as assured by him, involves an overwhelming sacrifice on my part, but that for the good of my people I am willing to endure it. Then you will solemnly announce that the sacrifice I am making, have indeed already made, is nothing less than― What are all those fools cheering for out there?" A mighty roar of laughter rose to the sky. "Here, what's it all about? Just go and look."
The Chancellor went to the door of the tent—and saw.
He came back to the King, striving to speak casually.
"Just a humorous emblem that the Euralians have raised over their camp," he said. "It wouldn't amuse your Majesty."
"I am hardly in a mood for joking," said the King. "Let us return to business. As I was saying, you will announce to the people that the enormous sacrifice which their King is prepared to make for them consists of— There they go again. I must really see what it is. Just pull the door back so that I may see without being seen."
"It—it really wouldn't amuse your Majesty."
"Are you implying that I have no sense of humour?" said the King sternly.
"Oh, no, sire, but there are certain jokes, jokes in the poorest of taste, that would naturally not appeal to so delicate a palate as your Majesty's. This—er—strikes me as one of them."
"Of that I am the best judge," said the King coldly. "Open the door at once."
The Chancellor opened the door; and there before the King's eyes, flaunting themselves in the breeze beneath the Royal Standard of Euralia, waved his own beloved whiskers.
The King of Barodia was not a lovable man, and his daughters were decidedly plain, but there are moments when one cannot help admiring him. This was one of them.
"You may shut the door," he said to the Chancellor. "The instructions which I gave to you just now," he went on in the same cold voice, "are cancelled. Let me think for a moment." He began to walk up and down his apartment. "You may think, too," he added kindly. "If you have anything not entirely senseless to suggest, you may suggest it."