CHAPTER XVII
THE BEGINNING OF THE CORONATION
The morning of Barbara's coronation broke soft and sunny; it seemedalmost impossible that anything disastrous could happen on a day sofair.
Prior to setting off for the cathedral the princess entertained herministers at breakfast. She herself occupied the head of the table,with Radzivil at her right hand and Zabern at the left. Dorislas wasabsent in command of the ten thousand appointed to guard the frontier.
So far no hostilities had occurred. Successive couriers arriving atintervals of every half-hour continued to report that the Russianforces still preserved their position of the previous afternoon,--aposition about a mile distant from the Czernovese border. There was nomovement on their part suggestive of coming invasion. The more hopefulof the ministers, therefore, began to pluck up courage, and tried tobelieve that the Czar's army had really mustered for the customaryautumn manoeuvres, and not for the purpose of preventing thecoronation.
Zabern did not share in these hopeful views; none knew better than hedid the magnitude of the peril that overhung Czernova. In reportingthe cardinal's death to the princess Zabern had suppressed somedetails, and hence Barbara was unaware that a dove had flown off toZamoska bearing a letter, which, if it should reach the Czar's hands,would most assuredly result in her dethronement. From very pity hewithheld the fact.
"She will learn it soon enough," he thought. "Why add to evil theanticipation of it?"
During the course of the breakfast many comments were made upon themurder of Cardinal Ravenna.
"A terrible and mysterious affair!" said Radzivil, greatly shocked bythe tragedy, and completely ignorant as to its authors. "Thephysicians assert that there are no less than eighteen wounds upon thebody."
"Five less than Julius Caesar received," commented Zabern irrelevantly.
"You offer a reward, I presume, for any information that shall lead tothe detection of the assassins?" said the premier to Zabern, who, asMinister for Justice, was head of the department that took cognizanceof crime.
"Not a rouble note," replied Zabern bluntly.
"That's contrary to your usual practice."
"Why should I offer a reward when I know who the--ah!--assassins are?There were three of them to the deed."
"You know them? And yet they have not been seized!"
"I have weighty reasons for deferring their arrest."
"Delay may end in their escape."
"The chief assassin cannot escape from me. The police know him andhave their eye upon him whenever he walks abroad. I can put my fingerupon him as easily as I now lay hand upon this coat," said Zabernsmiling, and suiting the action to the word.
Radzivil was about to press for further enlightenment, but Barbarachecked him.
"The subject is distressing to me," she said with a look thatconfirmed her words.
"Your Highness, I crave pardon," said the premier.
Though Barbara fully believed that no one had ever merited death morethan Ravenna, yet the deed lay heavy on her mind. Not even the thoughtof the many maidens, her own sister among the number, sacrificed tothe unholy desires of the cardinal, could blind her to the fact thatin sending Zabern to slay him she had committed a crime.
No such scruple, however, troubled the conscience of the marshal,whose only regret was that he had not despatched the duke likewise,while it lay in his power to do so.
Ere coming to the breakfast he had witnessed the execution of thedeputy Lesko Lipski and the spy Ivan Russakoff with the feeling,however, that it was but sorry justice to shoot the agents, while themore guilty principal was at large.
"You have no tidings of Bora, I presume?" said Barbara turning to themarshal.
"None--so far, your Highness," replied Zabern. "But, oh!" he addedwith mingled surprise and satisfaction, "here comes one who should beable to explain the mystery of the duke's escape."
All eyes had turned towards a door which had just opened, givingingress to a file of soldiers; they were under the command of Gabor,and escorted in their midst Miroslav, the governor of the Citadel.
"Your Highness," said Gabor, advancing and saluting, "I came upon thegovernor in the act of departing from the city. Thinking that youmight like to interview him, I took the liberty of arresting him on myown authority."
"You have done well," replied Barbara; and then turning a cold faceupon the governor, she said: "What defence have you to make, Miroslav?You received orders to exercise special vigilance over your prisoner,the Duke of Bora, and yet he contrived to escape."
"And with my connivance, so please your Highness."
"Traitor!" said Zabern, starting up, and half drawing his sword, "youhave signed your death-warrant."
"Your Highness, hear my story ere condemning me. At eleven o'clocklast night I was informed that a man stood at the gate of the Citadeldemanding an interview with me. I sent to ascertain his name andbusiness. 'Carry that to your master,' said the stranger, pencilling afew words on a card, and enclosing it within an envelope. On openingthe envelope this is what I beheld."
Here Miroslav drew forth a small card, which Gabor conveyed to theprincess, who started at sight of the words that were written upon it.She handed the note to Radzivil, whose face immediately expressed theutmost consternation. He tendered the card to Zabern, who in turnpassed it to the minister beside him, and thus amid a death-likesilence it went the round of the table.
And the words of the note were these,--
_You are herewith commanded to release the Duke of Bora. Delay will mean death to you._
_NICHOLAS PAULOVITCH Czar of all the Russias._
"When I saw that signature," continued Miroslav, "I gave orders thatthe visitor should be instantly admitted. On entering the room hecommanded my servant to retire, and then when he had withdrawn thecloak from his face I saw that it was indeed the Emperor Nicholas.'Have you given command for the release of my kinsman?' were his firstwords. Vain was it for me to protest that I could receive such anorder only from the princess herself. 'I am the suzerain of Czernova,and therefore above the princess,' was his reply."
"Ha!" said Barbara, with a flash of her eyes. "And you acknowledgedhis suzerainty?"
"Your Highness is great, but the Czar is greater. Who is like themighty Nicholas?"
"No one on earth, Miroslav; for which fact may the saints be praised!"remarked Zabern.
"Your Highness, I was so awed by the emperor's majestic presence, byhis authoritative manner, by the thought of his empire and power thatI could not do otherwise than obey him. The marshal himself would havedone the like, had he been in my place."
Zabern repudiated the statement with a scornful laugh.
"I brought the duke to the presence of the emperor, and the twowithdrew, going I know not where. Fearing your Highness's displeasure,I myself quitted the Citadel, intending to fly from Czernova. I throwmyself upon your Highness's mercy."
"It was your duty, Miroslav," returned Barbara, "to retain yourprisoner, even at the hazard of your life. In taking orders from aforeign sovereign you have committed an act of treason. Gabor, seethat the governor be kept in the palace here till our return from thecathedral. We will then decide as to his punishment."
Gabor saluted, and the troop retired with their prisoner.
"The Czar secretly in our city!" murmured Radzivil, in a tone ofdismay. "What is his object?"
"No good to our rule, count," replied Barbara, quietly.
The secret visit of the Czar to Slavowitz, and his act in releasingthe Duke of Bora, had so sinister an aspect that the hopeful onesamong the ministry returned at a bound to their previous state ofdoubt. Were they about to witness a coronation or a dethronement? Wasthe Czar preparing to intervene in the ceremony? Would the solemnityin the cathedral end amid the mockery and the triumph of the Muscovitefaction? With a feeling of pity they glanced at their fair youngruler, who for her part showed no sign of fear in this great crisis.They recognized that if she should fall, she would fal
l with dignity.
The breakfast ended, and Barbara retired to dress for the comingceremony.
Outside, in the wide extent of ground fronting the Vistula Palace, thelong line of the procession was slowly forming under the direction ofmarshals and heralds.
Part of the procession consisted of a sort of historic pageant; itsmembers, attired in costumes that recalled every period of Polishhistory, carried trophies and emblems, calculated to stir thepatriotic enthusiasm of the populace.
In this pageant Katina Ludovska bore part, by far the most charming ofthe maidens present, clad as she was in a dainty corselet of silveredmail, above a dark-blue satin skirt flowered with gold. Mounted upon abeautiful bay, she bore proudly aloft a famous historic memorial, astandard captured by King Sigismund at the taking of Moscow, its whitesilken folds distinctly stamped with the impress of a bloody hand, aghastly testimony to the struggle that had once raged around it.
In riding along the line of the procession, Zabern stopped andaddressed a few words to his affianced.
"Not pasteboard and tinsel, I trust?" he said, with a smile, andreferring to the sword by her side.
"Real steel," replied Katina, exhibiting the blade.
"Good! 'Tis well to go armed on such a day as this. We shall befighting for our liberties ere long."
"Death before submission," replied Katina, with a brave light in hereyes that made Zabern love her the more.
The din caused by the marching of soldiers, the neighing of steeds,the rolling of carriage-wheels, the snarling of silver trumpets, thecrisp, sharp word of command floated upward to Barbara's ears as shesat undergoing her toilet at the hands of her ladies. She wondered, asshe had wondered many times that morning, how it would all end, forassuredly no coronation could ever have been heralded with moresinister auspices than her own.
Partly with a view to picturesque effect, and partly that the populacealong the line of route might have a clear and uninterrupted view oftheir princess, it had been decided that she should proceed to thecathedral mounted upon a white palfrey.
Barbara had been somewhat disposed at first to shrink from thisexposure to public gaze, but had finally consented to the arrangement,won over by the argument that as the people would assemble for theexpress purpose of seeing her, it would be a disappointment to them tocatch but a glimpse of their ruler through the windows of astate-coach.
To Radzivil and Zabern had been given the honor of riding side by sidewith the princess, though the marshal cared much less for the honorthan for the opportunity afforded him of exercising guard over herperson, since he was not without apprehension that some fanaticMuscovite might attempt her life during her progress through thestreets.
The procession was timed to start at ten o'clock, and as the hour drewnear Zabern and the premier rode to the entrance of the palace, andthere waited the coming of the princess.
The marshal was mounted upon a magnificent black charger, and made asplendid figure, for he wore the old picturesque Polish costume, andsparkled with diamonds from plume to spur.
"And to think," he mused in the interval of waiting, "to think thatCaptain Woodville has not yet arrived."
"Captain Woodville?" exclaimed the premier with a start. "Surely theprincess is not recalling him?"
"No, but I am; and his non-arrival is a grave matter for us. Were theduke still in the Citadel, Woodville's absence might be borne withequanimity. As it is--but here comes the princess. I must defer myexplanation."
Punctually at one minute to ten, Barbara appeared at the entrance ofthe palace, and descending the marble stairs, she mounted her whitepalfrey with the assistance of Radzivil.
Zabern at the same moment waved his plumed cap, and immediately asalvo of artillery from the roof of the palace proclaimed to thewaiting populace that the princess was about to set off.
Amid the roll of drums, the crash of music, and the pealing of bellsfrom every steeple in the city, the great brazen gates of the palacegardens were flung wide, and there rode forth the head of theprocession, the Blue Legion, their lances flashing brightly in thesunlight.
As they moved out, the sight that met their eyes was sufficient tostir the blood of the most sluggish. The centre of the road was empty,but the sidewalks were literally paved with human heads. Every window,balcony, and roof was alive with spectators. All Czernova was there,every citizen apparently determined to find a place somewhere alongthe line of route. Resolved to obtain a view somehow of their youthfulsovereign, men could be seen clinging in mid-air to steeples,pediments, cornices, wherever foothold could be found. From the groundbelow to the sky above nothing but human faces.
"Sword of Saint Michael!" muttered Zabern. "A pity all have not beentrained to use the rifle. We might, then, make good defence, evenagainst the Czar's one hundred thousand."
As soon as Barbara made her appearance, she was greeted with frenziedcheering. Roar after roar rent the air. Rolling along the boulevard,and mounting upward to the sky, the sound was almost loud enough to beheard in the distant camp of the Czar. So great was the enthusiasmthat the troops lining the streets could with difficulty prevent thepopulace from pressing forward to touch her.
If any dissentients to her rule were present along the line of route,they were careful to dissemble their feelings. But who could dissentfrom a maiden so sweet and fair? Dressed simply in white silk, shelooked every inch a princess. Her dark hair was without covering, savefor a slender gold diadem, from which there flowed behind a veil ofdiaphanous lace.
Tears glistened in eyes that had not been wet for years.
Aged men who had seen the great Kosciusko carried off from the fatalfield of Macicowice; veterans who, like Zabern, had marched withNapoleon to the fall of Moscow; fugitives from Siberian mines, withbodies scarred by the iron fetters they had worn; Polish patriots,survivors of the ill-starred rising of '30--all were gathered that dayin the Czernovese capital to acclaim one destined, so they believed,to revive the ancient empire of Poland. Many a salute did Zabern give,as from time to time he caught sight among the crowd of the face ofsome old familiar-in-arms.
Barbara, however, though smiling sweetly upon all around, was inwardlyunhappy. A secret voice seemed to whisper, "Deceiver! this tribute ofloyalty is offered to Natalie Lilieska, the lawfully born daughter ofthe Princess Stephanie, and not to the Barbara of doubtful origin."
It was too late now to recede from the _role_ she had assumed, and soamid shouting multitudes she rode on, her progress from the palace tothe cathedral being one continuous scene of triumph, unmarred byanything of a hostile character.
"It is here, then, that we are to look for the Czar's _coup_?"muttered Zabern, as the cavalcade drew in sight of the stately Gothiccathedral of Saint Stanislas, from every tower of which silver-tonguedbells were pealing jubilant carillons.
Those in the procession whose duty or privilege it was to enter thecathedral, made their ingress by various doors to their appointedplaces; the less fortunate remained drawn up in order around theedifice.
As Zabern stood upon the broad flight of steps, carpeted with crimsonvelvet, and surveyed the vast crowds around, his attention wassuddenly arrested by the sight of a horseman at the far end of aboulevard which opened upon the cathedral square. As this avenue waskept clear by the military for the return journey of the princess,there was nothing to impede the rider's progress, and on he came withflying rein and bloody spur.
"A courier! a courier!" cried the people, instinctively divining thathe was the bearer of weighty tidings. "What news? What news?"
To their cries, however, the rider remained mute.
"By heaven, it's Nikita!" muttered the marshal.
As the quivering steed drew up at the foot of the cathedral-stairs,Zabern sprang to meet his orderly.
"Now, marshal," said the latter, "play the Roman, and fall on yoursword's point, for the end has come."
"A good many men shall fall by this blade ere it reaches my heart,"growled Zabern. "What new trouble do you bring?"
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bsp; "The chanting of the monks hath ceased; or to be plainer, the Russianstandard is floating over the Convent of the Transfiguration."
"Speak you from hearsay merely?"
"I speak of what I have seen."
"The cardinal laughs at us from hell; this is the first result of hisletter. The Russian invasion has begun, then? Pretty generalship onthe part of Dorislas to let the enemy steal thus upon his rear! Andwhere are the monks, that they have not fired the powder-magazine, andsent themselves and their foes flying into the air? They have sworn anoath to do it rather than let the convent fall into the hands of theenemy. There would not now have been one stone upon another if oldFaustus had been there."
"It was when on my way back from the camp of Dorislas that I caughtsight of the Muscovite standard on the tower of the convent. Iimmediately rode near and perceived the bayonets of the PaulovskiGuards moving to and fro along the battlements. And who should be incommand there but Baron Ostrova, the duke's former secretary--he whomthe princess banished from Czernova. I at once galloped back to ourcamp with the news. Dorislas instantly set off with a thousand men; hehas invested the convent; his artillery are ready planted for shellingthe place, and he now awaits orders from you."
"'Orders'?" repeated Zabern with contempt. "My orders should be,'Consider yourself cashiered for incompetence.' How many Russians doyou suppose there are in the convent?"
"I cannot state the number, marshal--sufficient evidently to overpowerthe monks, and to hold the place in case of siege."
"And the rest of the Czar's forces?"
"Are abiding quietly in their camp on the other side of the frontier."
"Gladly would I come, Nikita, to direct operations, but that I darenot leave the side of the princess, for there is more danger to beapprehended here than before the convent. Dorislas shall see me withall speed as soon as the coronation is over. Meantime here are hisorders."
And the marshal wrote upon a slip of paper: "Maintain cordon till myarrival. Do nothing unless attacked.--ZABERN."
Taking the note, Nikita rode off, his breakneck pace along theboulevard again exciting the wonder of the populace.
"This holding of the coronation while the foe is on Czernovese groundmight seem a jest to some," murmured Zabern; "yet if, as I am hoping,the ceremony should tempt the Czar to come forward personally tooppose the princess's rights, then all may yet be well. Since Nicholashas chosen to make an armed raid upon our territory, let him notcomplain if he should find himself a prisoner of war. And with theCzar in our hands we shall be masters of the game."
On turning to enter the porch, Zabern was met by the chief courtofficial, to whom had been committed all the arrangements connectedwith the coronation.
"Marshal, the cathedral is full to overflowing, and yet there arehundreds at the northern porch clamoring for admittance, and allprovided with proper orders."
"Very bad arrangement on your part."
"Not so, marshal. The tickets issued did not exceed the seatingaccommodation."
"Ha!" said Zabern, alive to the significance of this statement; "youmean that there are several hundred persons within who have no rightto be there?"
"That is so, marshal. The whole body of the northern transept isfilled with men who, I am certain, have gained entrance by means offorged orders. Among these men I recognize many Muscovites, notruffians from Russograd, but Muscovites of the nobler and wealthierclass."
"So!" murmured Zabern. "Their plot of the barricades having beenforestalled and thwarted, the enemy are resorting to newmanoeuvres."
"Some are in uniform, and some in court dress, and hence they arearmed with swords. If we should attempt to expel them there will beopposition, tumult, possibly bloodshed. What's to be done?"
"At present, nothing. Let us, if possible, avoid a riot. If theychoose to remain orderly, good; but if it be their object to opposethe coronation by armed force, then their blood be upon their ownheads."
"And the multitude at the northern porch?"
"Will have to remain there, I fear," replied Zabern, shrugging hisshoulders.
He passed from the porch to the interior of the edifice.
The scene within fairly dazzled the eye. The rich dresses of theladies, the splendid military costumes of the men, formed a pictureglowing with color; on all sides were to be seen the sparkle of jewelsand the gleam of scarlet and gold.
As Zabern slowly made his way towards his allotted seat in the choir,he did not fail to notice certain mocking glances cast at him by theoccupants of the northern transept. Mischief was evidently the objectof their assembling; but inasmuch as they were inferior in number tothe Poles present, and as a word on his part could instantly set inmotion the military both inside and outside the cathedral, Zabernviewed this Muscovite gathering without any alarm.
The chancel, elevated considerably above the general level of thecathedral-pavement, was the cynosure of all eyes.
On the altar were the sacramental vessels, the princely regalia, andthe document supposed to be the original Czernovese Charter, neverpublicly exhibited, except at a coronation.
To the left of the altar was an oaken chair in which the princesswould sit, till the time came for her to take her place on the throne.
Respectively north and south of the altar, and each vying with theother in splendor of vestment, stood the two ecclesiastics who were toofficiate in the ceremony, the Greek Archpastor Mosco, and the mitredAbbot Faustus; the latter a good man, and a stern old patriot, quitecapable, as Zabern had said, of blowing himself to fragments, ifPolish interests should require such sacrifice.
While Zabern from his place was intently studying the occupants of thenorthern transept, under the belief that the Czar was concealedsomewhere among them, a small door in the left wall of the choiropened, and Barbara entered, bare-headed, and clothed in hercoronation-robe,--a vestment of purple velvet, bordered with ermine,and gleaming with pearls. Four ladies attended her as train-bearers.
Awed by the solemnity of the occasion, she was very pale, and with theglory of the sunlight illumining her figure as she moved forward withslow and majestic pace, she seemed to her adherents afar off like afair vision from another world.
According to the prescribed ritual, the first part of the ceremonyconsisted in reading a chapter from one of the Four Evangelists, aduty which by previous arrangement fell to the lot of Mosco.
As soon, therefore, as Barbara had taken her place in the oaken chair,she glanced at the archpastor as a sign for him to begin.
Now great importance was attached both by the Poles and the Muscovitesto this reading of the Gospel. The lection was neither appointedbeforehand nor chosen by the ecclesiastic officiating; it was left tothe guidance of chance, or rather, as the Czernovese themselvesbelieved, to the will of the Deity. The lector, following a usage ofmediaeval times, was required to open the holy volume at random and toread the first chapter upon which his eye should happen to light. Itwas believed that the portion thus hit on would contain somethingapplicable to the person crowned or even prophetic of the character ofthe reign.
As Mosco with dignified bearing moved to the lectern, he passed closeto Zabern, whose quick ear instantly detected a peculiar sound beneaththe archpastor's brocaded and jewelled cassock,--a sound which themarshal could liken only to the trail of a steel scabbard.
"As I live the fellow is armed," he muttered. "A holy prelate with asword beneath his gown! There's treason here."
Zabern's first impulse was to spring up, and tearing off Mosco'sgown, to expose him to the assembly as an armed conspirator.
It might be, however, that, like himself, the archpastor anticipatedthat there would be rioting and fighting at the coronation, and hencehe had as much right as others to carry arms for his own defence.
Zabern therefore refrained from violence, but his keen eyes wereattentive to every movement of Mosco.
On the brazen lectern, which stood upon the edge of the choir,directly facing the assembly, lay a volume of the Four Evangelists,clos
ed and clasped.
Mosco unfastened the clasp, and then evidently wishing to be thoughtclear of all suspicion of designedly choosing his lection, he turnedaway his head, and with nimble fingers threw open the volume; and yetin spite of this, Zabern was impressed with the belief that the Greekprelate knew beforehand at what page the book was open. He had notforgotten that this reading of the Gospel had been selected by Moscohimself as his part in the coronation-ceremony, and he recalled thearchpastor's peculiar smile at the time of his choosing the office.Was the mystery about to be solved?
Turning his eyes upon the opened volume, Mosco began to read. Thelection obtained by this _sors sacra_ proved to be the opening chapterof the Fourth Gospel.
With a curious anticipatory interest the assembly listened to thereading, prepared to catch at any verse which might be twisted intosome allusion to the princess and her reign.
Mosco, in a magnificent bass voice and with majestic delivery, readthrough five verses. Then, making a momentary pause, he resumed,changing his tone to one of peculiar emphasis,--
"'_There was a man sent from God whose name was John_--'"
"And there he is!" cried a voice that rang like a clarion all overthe cathedral, the voice of Feodor Orloff; "there he is! John, Duke ofBora. People of Czernova, listen to the voice of God."
Scarcely had the words been spoken when the Duke of Bora was seenemerging from the northern transept.
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