BOOK V: A RITUAL AT MIDNIGHT
RUPERT'S JOURNAL--Continued.
June 20, 1907.
The time has gone as quickly as work can effect since I saw my Lady.
As I told the mountaineers, Rooke, whom I had sent on the service,
had made a contract for fifty thousand Ingis-Malbron rifles, and as
many tons of ammunition as the French experts calculated to be a full
supply for a year of warfare. I heard from him by our secret
telegraph code that the order had been completed, and that the goods
were already on the way. The morning after the meeting at the
Flagstaff I had word that at night the vessel--one chartered by Rooke
for the purpose--would arrive at Vissarion during the night. We were
all expectation. I had always now in the Castle a signalling party,
the signals being renewed as fast as the men were sufficiently expert
to proceed with their practice alone or in groups. We hoped that
every fighting-man in the country would in time become an expert
signaller. Beyond these, again, we have always a few priests. The
Church of the country is a militant Church; its priests are soldiers,
its Bishops commanders. But they all serve wherever the battle most
needs them. Naturally they, as men of brains, are quicker at
learning than the average mountaineers; with the result that they
learnt the code and the signalling almost by instinct. We have now
at least one such expert in each community of them, and shortly the
priests alone will be able to signal, if need be, for the nation;
thus releasing for active service the merely fighting-man. The men
at present with me I took into confidence as to the vessel's arrival,
and we were all ready for work when the man on the lookout at the
Flagstaff sent word that a vessel without lights was creeping in
towards shore. We all assembled on the rocky edge of the creek, and
saw her steal up the creek and gain the shelter of the harbour. When
this had been effected, we ran out the boom which protects the
opening, and after that the great armoured sliding-gates which Uncle
Roger had himself had made so as to protect the harbour in case of
need.
We then came within and assisted in warping the steamer to the side
of the dock.
Rooke looked fit, and was full of fire and vigour. His
responsibility and the mere thought of warlike action seemed to have
renewed his youth.
When we had arranged for the unloading of the cases of arms and
ammunition, I took Rooke into the room which we call my "office,"
where he gave me an account of his doings. He had not only secured
the rifles and the ammunition for them, but he had purchased from one
of the small American Republics an armoured yacht which had been
especially built for war service. He grew quite enthusiastic, even
excited, as he told me of her:
"She is the last word in naval construction--a torpedo yacht. A
small cruiser, with turbines up to date, oil-fuelled, and fully armed
with the latest and most perfect weapons and explosives of all kinds.
The fastest boat afloat to-day. Built by Thorneycroft, engined by
Parsons, armoured by Armstrong, armed by Crupp. If she ever comes
into action, it will be bad for her opponent, for she need not fear
to tackle anything less than a Dreadnought."
He also told me that from the same Government, whose nation had just
established an unlooked-for peace, he had also purchased a whole park
of artillery of the very latest patterns, and that for range and
accuracy the guns were held to be supreme. These would follow before
long, and with them their proper ammunition, with a shipload of the
same to follow shortly after.
When he had told me all the rest of his news, and handed me the
accounts, we went out to the dock to see the debarkation of the war
material. Knowing that it was arriving, I had sent word in the
afternoon to the mountaineers to tell them to come and remove it.
They had answered the call, and it really seemed to me that the whole
of the land must that night have been in motion.
They came as individuals, grouping themselves as they came within the
defences of the Castle; some had gathered at fixed points on the way.
They went secretly and in silence, stealing through the forests like
ghosts, each party when it grouped taking the place of that which had
gone on one of the routes radiating round Vissarion. Their coming
and going was more than ghostly. It was, indeed, the outward
manifestation of an inward spirit--a whole nation dominated by one
common purpose.
The men in the steamer were nearly all engineers, mostly British,
well conducted, and to be depended upon. Rooke had picked them
separately, and in the doing had used well his great experience of
both men and adventurous life. These men were to form part of the
armoured yacht's crew when she should come into the Mediterranean
waters. They and the priests and fighting-men in the Castle worked
well together, and with a zeal that was beyond praise. The heavy
cases seemed almost of their own accord to leave the holds, so fast
came the procession of them along the gangways from deck to dock-
wall. It was a part of my design that the arms should be placed in
centres ready for local distribution. In such a country as this,
without railways or even roads, the distribution of war material in
any quantity is a great labour, for it has to be done individually,
or at least from centres.
But of this work the great number of mountaineers who were arriving
made little account. As fast as the ship's company, with the
assistance of the priests and fighting-men, placed the cases on the
quay, the engineers opened them and laid the contents ready for
portage. The mountaineers seemed to come in a continuous stream;
each in turn shouldered his burden and passed out, the captain of his
section giving him as he passed his instruction where to go and in
what route. The method had been already prepared in my office ready
for such a distribution when the arms should arrive, and descriptions
and quantities had been noted by the captains. The whole affair was
treated by all as a matter of the utmost secrecy. Hardly a word was
spoken beyond the necessary directions, and these were given in
whispers. All night long the stream of men went and came, and
towards dawn the bulk of the imported material was lessened by half.
On the following night the remainder was removed, after my own men
had stored in the Castle the rifles and ammunition reserved for its
defence if necessary. It was advisable to keep a reserve supply in
case it should ever be required. The following night Rooke went away
secretly in the chartered vessel. He had to bring back with him the
purchased cannon and heavy ammunition, which had been in the meantime
stored on one of the Greek islands. The second morning, having had
secret word that the steamer was on the way, I had given the signal
for the assembling of the mountaineers.
A little after dark the vessel, showing no light, stole into the
creek. The barrier gates were once again closed, and when a
sufficient number of men had arrived to handle the guns, we began to
unload. The actual deportation was easy enough, for the dock had all
necessary appliances quite up to date, including a pair of shears for
gun-lifting which could be raised into position in a very short time.
The guns were well furnished with tackle of all sorts, and before
many hours had passed a little procession of them disappeared into
the woods in ghostly silence. A number of men surrounded each, and
they moved as well as if properly supplied with horses.
In the meantime, and for a week after the arrival of the guns, the
drilling went on without pause. The gun-drill was wonderful. In the
arduous work necessary for it the great strength and stamina of the
mountaineers showed out wonderfully. They did not seem to know
fatigue any more than they knew fear.
For a week this went on, till a perfect discipline and management was
obtained. They did not practise the shooting, for this would have
made secrecy impossible. It was reported all along the Turkish
frontier that the Sultan's troops were being massed, and though this
was not on a war footing, the movement was more or less dangerous.
The reports of our own spies, although vague as to the purpose and
extent of the movement, were definite as to something being on foot.
And Turkey does not do something without a purpose that bodes ill to
someone. Certainly the sound of cannon, which is a far-reaching
sound, would have given them warning of our preparations, and would
so have sadly minimized their effectiveness.
When the cannon had all been disposed of--except, of course, those
destined for defence of the Castle or to be stored there--Rooke went
away with the ship and crew. The ship he was to return to the
owners; the men would be shipped on the war-yacht, of whose crew they
would form a part. The rest of them had been carefully selected by
Rooke himself, and were kept in secrecy at Cattaro, ready for service
the moment required. They were all good men, and quite capable of
whatever work they might be set to. So Rooke told me, and he ought
to know. The experience of his young days as a private made him an
expert in such a job.
RUPERT'S JOURNAL--Continued.
June 24, 1907.
Last night I got from my Lady a similar message to the last, and
delivered in a similar way. This time, however, our meeting was to
be on the leads of the Keep.
I dressed myself very carefully before going on this adventure, lest
by any chance of household concern, any of the servants should see
me; for if this should happen, Aunt Janet would be sure to hear of
it, which would give rise to endless surmises and questionings--a
thing I was far from desiring.
I confess that in thinking the matter over during the time I was
making my hurried preparations I was at a loss to understand how any
human body, even though it be of the dead, could go or be conveyed to
such a place without some sort of assistance, or, at least,
collusion, on the part of some of the inmates. At the visit to the
Flagstaff circumstances were different. This spot was actually
outside the Castle, and in order to reach it I myself had to leave
the Castle privately, and from the garden ascend to the ramparts.
But here was no such possibility. The Keep was an imperium in
imperio. It stood within the Castle, though separated from it, and
it had its own defences against intrusion. The roof of it was, so
far as I knew, as little approachable as the magazine.
The difficulty did not, however, trouble me beyond a mere passing
thought. In the joy of the coming meeting and the longing rapture at
the mere thought of it, all difficulties disappeared. Love makes its
own faith, and I never doubted that my Lady would be waiting for me
at the place designated. When I had passed through the little arched
passages, and up the doubly-grated stairways contrived in the
massiveness of the walls, I let myself out on the leads. It was well
that as yet the times were sufficiently peaceful not to necessitate
guards or sentries at all such points.
There, in a dim corner where the moonlight and the passing clouds
threw deep shadows, I saw her, clothed as ever in her shroud. Why, I
know not. I felt somehow that the situation was even more serious
than ever. But I was steeled to whatever might come. My mind had
been already made up. To carry out my resolve to win the woman I
loved I was ready to face death. But now, after we had for a few
brief moments held each other in our arms, I was willing to accept
death--or more than death. Now, more than before, was she sweet and
dear to me. Whatever qualms there might have been at the beginning
of our love-making, or during the progress of it, did not now exist.
We had exchanged vows and confidences, and acknowledged our loves.
What, then, could there be of distrust, or even doubt, that the
present might not set at naught? But even had there been such doubts
or qualms, they must have disappeared in the ardour of our mutual
embrace. I was by now mad for her, and was content to be so mad.
When she had breath to speak after the strictness of our embrace, she
said:
"I have come to warn you to be more than ever careful." It was, I
confess, a pang to me, who thought only of love, to hear that
anything else should have been the initiative power of her coming,
even though it had been her concern for my own safety. I could not
but notice the bitter note of chagrin in my voice as I answered:
"It was for love's sake that _I_ came." She, too, evidently felt the
undercurrent of pain, for she said quickly:
"Ah, dearest, I, too, came for love's sake. It is because I love you
that I am so anxious about you. What would the world--ay, or heaven-
-be to me without you?"
There was such earnest truth in her tone that the sense and
realization of my own harshness smote me. In the presence of such
love as this even a lover's selfishness must become abashed. I could
not express myself in words, so simply raised her slim hand in mine
and kissed it. As it lay warm in my own I could not but notice, as
well as its fineness, its strength and the firmness of its clasp.
Its warmth and fervour struck into my heart--and my brain. Thereupon
I poured out to her once more my love for her, she listening all
afire. When passion had had its say, the calmer emotions had
opportunity of expression. When I was satisfied afresh of her
affection, I began to value her care for my safety, and so I went
back to the subject. Her very insistence, based on personal
affection, gave me more solid ground for fear. In the moment of love
transports I had forgotten, or did not think, of what wonderful power
or knowledge she must have to be able to move in such strange ways as
she did. Why, at this very moment she was within my own gates.
Locks and bars, even the very seal of death itself, seemed unable to
make for her a prison-house. With such freedom of action and
movement, going when she would into secret places, what might she not
know that was known to others? How could anyone keep secret from
such an one even an ill intent? Such thoughts, such surmises, had
often flashed through my mind in moments of excitement rather than of
reflection, but never long enough to become fixed into belief. But
yet the consequences, the convictions, of them were with me, though
unconsciously, though the thoughts themselves were perhaps forgotten
or withered before development.
"And you?" I asked her earnestly. "What about danger to you?" She
smiled, her little pearl-white teeth gleaming in the moonlight, as
she spoke:
"There is no danger for me. I am safe. I am the safest person,
perhaps the only safe person, in all this land." The full
significance of her words did not seem to come to me all at once.
Some base for understanding such an assertion seemed to be wanting.
It was not that I did not trust or believe her, but that I thought
she might be mistaken. I wanted to reassure myself, so in my
distress I asked unthinkingly:
"How the safest? What is your protection?" For several moments that
spun themselves out endlessly she looked me straight in the face, the
stars in her eyes seeming to glow like fire; then, lowering her head,
she took a fold of her shroud and held it up to me.
"This!"
The meaning was complete and understandable now. I could not speak
at once for the wave of emotion which choked me. I dropped on my
knees, and taking her in my arms, held her close to me. She saw that
I was moved, and tenderly stroked my hair, and with delicate touch
pressed down my head on her bosom, as a mother might have done to
comfort a frightened child.
Presently we got back to the realities of life again. I murmured:
"Your safety, your life, your happiness are all-in-all to me. When
will you let them be my care?" She trembled in my arms, nestling
even closer to me. Her own arms seemed to quiver with delight as she
said:
"Would you indeed like me to be always with you? To me it would be a
happiness unspeakable; and to you, what would it be?"
I thought that she wished to hear me speak my love to her, and that,
woman-like, she had led me to the utterance, and so I spoke again of
the passion that now raged in me, she listening eagerly as we
strained each other tight in our arms. At last there came a pause, a
long, long pause, and our hearts beat consciously in unison as we
stood together. Presently she said in a sweet, low, intense whisper,
as soft as the sighing of summer wind:
"It shall be as you wish; but oh, my dear, you will have to first go
through an ordeal which may try you terribly! Do not ask me
anything! You must not ask, because I may not answer, and it would
be pain to me to deny you anything. Marriage with such an one as I
am has its own ritual, which may not be foregone. It may . . . " I
broke passionately into her speaking:
"There is no ritual that I fear, so long as it be that it is for your
good, and your lasting happiness. And if the end of it be that I may
call you mine, there is no horror in life or death that I shall not
gladly face. Dear, I ask you nothing. I am content to leave myself
in your hands. You shall advise me when the time comes, and I shall
be satisfied, content to obey. Content! It is but a poor word to
express what I long for! I shall shirk nothing which may come to me
from this or any other world, so long as it is to make you mine!"
Once again her murmured happiness was music to my ears:
"Oh, how you love me! how you love me, dear, dear!" She took me in
her arms, and for a few seconds we hung together. Suddenly she tore
herself apart from me, and stood drawn up to the full height, with a
dignity I cannot describe or express. Her voice had a new dominance,
as with firm utterance and in staccato manner she said:
"Rupert Sent Leger, before we go a step further I must say something
to you, ask you something, and I charge you, on your most sacred
honour and belief, to answer me truly. Do you believe me to be one
of those unhappy beings who may not die, but have to live in shameful
existence between earth and the nether world, and whose hellish
mission is to destroy, body and soul, those who love them till they
fall to their level? You are a gentleman, and a brave one. I have
found you fearless. Answer me in sternest truth, no matter what the
issue may be!"
She stood there in the glamorous moonlight with a commanding dignity
which seemed more than human. In that mystic light her white shroud
seemed diaphanous, and she appeared like a spirit of power. What was
I to say? How could I admit to such a being that I had actually had
at moments, if not a belief, a passing doubt? It was a conviction
with me that if I spoke wrongly I should lose her for ever. I was in
a desperate strait. In such a case there is but one solid ground
which one may rest on--the Truth.
I really felt I was between the devil and the deep sea. There was no
avoiding the issue, and so, out of this all-embracing, all-compelling
conviction of truth, I spoke.
For a fleeting moment I felt that my tone was truculent, and almost
hesitated; but as I saw no anger or indignation on my Lady's face,
but rather an eager approval, I was reassured. A woman, after all,
is glad to see a man strong, for all belief in him must be based on
that.
"I shall speak the truth. Remember that I have no wish to hurt your
feelings, but as you conjure me by my honour, you must forgive me if
I pain. It is true that I had at first--ay, and later, when I came
to think matters over after you had gone, when reason came to the aid
of impression--a passing belief that you are a Vampire. How can I
fail to have, even now, though I love you with all my soul, though I
have held you in my arms and kissed you on the mouth, a doubt, when
all the evidences seem to point to one thing? Remember that I have
only seen you at night, except that bitter moment when, in the broad
noonday of the upper world, I saw you, clad as ever in a shroud,
lying seemingly dead in a tomb in the crypt of St. Sava's Church . .
. But let that pass. Such belief as I have is all in you. Be you
woman or Vampire, it is all the same to me. It is YOU whom I love!
Should it be that you are--you are not woman, which I cannot believe,
then it will be my glory to break your fetters, to open your prison,
and set you free. To that I consecrate my life." For a few seconds
I stood silent, vibrating with the passion which had been awakened in
me. She had by now lost the measure of her haughty isolation, and
had softened into womanhood again. It was really like a realization
of the old theme of Pygmalion's statue. It was with rather a
pleading than a commanding voice that she said:
"And shall you always be true to me?"
"Always--so help me, God!" I answered, and I felt that there could be
no lack of conviction in my voice.
Indeed, there was no cause for such lack. She also stood for a
little while stone-still, and I was beginning to expand to the
rapture which was in store for me when she should take me again in
her arms.
But there was no such moment of softness. All at once she started as
if she had suddenly wakened from a dream, and on the spur of the
moment said:
"Now go, go!" I felt the conviction of necessity to obey, and turned
at once. As I moved towards the door by which I had entered, I
asked:
"When shall I see you again?"
"Soon!" came her answer. "I shall let you know soon--when and where.
Oh, go, go!" She almost pushed me from her.
When I had passed through the low doorway and locked and barred it
behind me, I felt a pang that I should have had to shut her out like
that; but I feared lest there should arise some embarrassing
suspicion if the door should be found open. Later came the
comforting thought that, as she had got to the roof though the door
had been shut, she would be able to get away by the same means. She
had evidently knowledge of some secret way into the Castle. The
alternative was that she must have some supernatural quality or
faculty which gave her strange powers. I did not wish to pursue that
train of thought, and so, after an effort, shut it out from my mind.
When I got back to my room I locked the door behind me, and went to
sleep in the dark. I did not want light just then--could not bear
it.
This morning I woke, a little later than usual, with a kind of
apprehension which I could not at once understand. Presently,
however, when my faculties became fully awake and in working order, I
realized that I feared, half expected, that Aunt Janet would come to
me in a worse state of alarm than ever apropos of some new Second-
Sight experience of more than usual ferocity.
But, strange to say, I had no such visit. Later on in the morning,
when, after breakfast, we walked together through the garden, I asked
her how she had slept, and if she had dreamt. She answered me that
she had slept without waking, and if she had had any dreams, they
must have been pleasant ones, for she did not remember them. "And
you know, Rupert," she added, "that if there be anything bad or
fearsome or warning in dreams, I always remember them."
Later still, when I was by myself on the cliff beyond the creek, I
could not help commenting on the absence of her power of Second Sight
on the occasion. Surely, if ever there was a time when she might
have had cause of apprehension, it might well have been when I asked
the Lady whom she did not know to marry me--the Lady of whose
identity I knew nothing, even whose name I did not know--whom I loved
with all my heart and soul--my Lady of the Shroud.
I have lost faith in Second Sight.
