A Brilliant Void: A Selection of Classic Irish Science Fiction

by Jack Fennell

  Upon hearing these words, the heat of the Emperor’s temper cooled; he saw he had not only ruined his cause with the lady, but he was bringing upon himself public dishonour, for the reason of the resignation of their gifted and enthusiastic astronomer would be demanded by both ministers and nation alike.

  As she turned to leave the apartment, for she disdained having further converse with him, he caught her by the dress, with a view of detaining her.

  ‘Stay, Mercia, stay, and listen to me! Listen to one word more, I beseech thee. Thou shalt, for indeed I will not let thee go!’ He shouted, for she was wrenching herself out of his grasp.

  ‘Touch me not,’ she exclaimed, ‘or I will kill thee as thou standest!’ From her girdle she took a small ebony stick, electrically charged, which she wore as a kind of life-preserver, in accordance with the custom of ladies who worked, or walked out a good deal alone.

  She had reached the door and opened it, when who should rush upon the scene but Geometrus.

  ‘Mercia insulted, and by the Emperor! What is the meaning of this?’

  ‘I am not insulting her,’ the Emperor replied. ‘She has disobeyed my commands respecting some important astronomical information I required, and is endeavouring to shield her own shortcomings by getting into a rage: ’tis a woman’s way, but I’ll have none of it.’

  Then Mercia, drawing herself up to her full height, exclaimed in indignant voice –

  ‘Liar, I despise thee! Bid thine Empress come hither, for I have something to tell her. As for me, I shall never receive thee here again! Get some other to fill my place, for I shall quit it forthwith.’

  Then she turned away with haughty mien and left the apartment.

  ‘It shall not end in this way,’ said Geometrus. ‘I shall see that this matter is not hushed up!’

  ‘I will have no more of this,’ responded Felicitas, who, looking very uncomfortable, made for the door. ‘I will have thee indicted for a revolutionist and a maker of mischief in my realms, and pay thee well for all these insults.’

  So perfect was the system of communication throughout the globe that two hours later, the news was in every part of the world. From the commoner to the crowned head of every country, almost, the story of the Emperor of the Teutonic Empire and his astronomer was discussed. In the cottage, the castle, the street corner, the court and the club, it became at once the leading subject of conversation.

  Meanwhile, Felicitas was relating his own version of events, in which his powers of imagination had been considerably called upon, to his Prime Minister.

  ‘At the very least,’ urged the Emperor, ‘these newspapers ought to be indicted for conspiring to undermine my reputation, and thereby bring me into my people’s disfavour.’

  ‘What about thy two astronomers? Does thy Majesty desire to include them in the indictment?’

  ‘Certainly,’ replied the Emperor. ‘Did not Mistress Mercia threaten my life, and hath not Geometrus taken her part?’

  ‘Would it not be far wiser to require them to apologise for their ill-behaviour?’

  ‘That they will never do, I am assured! Their looks and language betrayed their evil designs towards me. Get a warrant sent quickly, and put them in prison without delay.’

  When Mercia retired to her private apartment she hardly knew whither she was going. In a few moments, however, she recovered herself, and began to consider her situation, or rather her loss of situation, for she had thrown it up in the heat of her anger with the Emperor.

  ‘I have refused, perhaps, the crown of an Empress to take the lowly condition of a poor scholar out of place; but I have remained true to myself, and to my sex, and before all things have kept my heart and hands clean.’

  How a man could express the most profound attachment for her at one moment, and seek her destruction at the next, seemed to her pure mind so monstrous and unnatural that its possibility in her case was altogether out of the question. That Felicitas would go the lengths of formally making such an infamous accusation she could not bring herself to believe.

  When the constables entered, they did so in a somewhat hesitating manner. Evidently, they did not at all relish their work.

  ‘Why this intrusion on a lady in her private apartment?’ demanded Geometrus.

  ‘What is your wish?’ inquired Mercia in quiet tones.

  ‘Mistress, very unwillingly, I confess, I call upon thee in the Emperor’s name to surrender thyself – here is my authority,’ and he held out the warrant for her perusal. When she had finished, she stood for a moment thinking, whereupon he stepped forward to lead her away, when Mercia falling back a little, drew herself up and exclaimed –

  ‘Touch me not, fellow; I will leave this house of mine own accord when I am fully prepared. I must attire myself suitably before going into the night air, and my carriage must be made ready for me.’

  ‘We have brought the ordinary police van by special order of the Emperor,’ said another officer. ‘We dare not let any other be used.’

  ‘The police-van for me!’ repeated Mercia. ‘And by the Emperor’s orders too! What has the Emperor to do with the administration of the law? I refuse to obey such an order.’

  ‘And rightly so,’ interjected Geometrus. ‘This lady goes with you in her own carriage, or not at all.’

  ‘What is that to thee?’ returned the sergeant of police. ‘A pretty person to lay down conditions to us, and dictate how we are to perform our duty, seeing thou art in the same boat thyself. Here is the warrant for thy apprehension; and get thee ready quickly.’

  Nevertheless, Mercia’s carriage was soon in readiness, and Geometrus watched the light barouche roll along the smooth macadamised roadway.

  Of all the persons who laid claim to the gift of thought-reading there was none so sensitive as the great Anglo-Indian, Dayanand Swami. It was said of him that he almost lived upon a wonderful elixir of his own manufacture, the preparation of which had been handed down to him from his Mahatma forefather some generations back. Being in the possession of all the accumulated knowledge of successive generations of Yogis, he was filled with wonderful wisdom. Moreover, his powers were considerably strengthened by reason of his advanced culture, aided by his natural gift of psychic energy.

  It was no uncommon occurrence for a fair Duchess to find out where her noble husband was spending his evenings; the Duke in question, guessing that she would do so, would beforehand try to bribe Swami to keep the secret. Or an over-anxious wife would worry herself concerning the safety of her husband who had taken a journey across the Atlantic in his flying machine; or a young man striving to obtain a Government appointment would seek to learn if his lady friend, of whom he was in mortal fear, would bowl him out in the coming examination. No matter of what the difficulty consisted, this Anglo-Indian sage solved it satisfactorily.

  One soft spring afternoon, there came rolling up to his residence the royal carriage, carrying the Emperor Felicitas himself. The Swami received the monarch with that easy and gentle courtesy he extended to everybody.

  ‘What doth his Majesty require of me?’ he asked.

  ‘Indeed,’ cried the Emperor, ‘I wish my crown anywhere but on my head! What good is power if it leaves one craving for that which he most desires? I want that which I am denied, Swami, and which my heart is bursting for – the love of a woman! If thou hast magic power, as I am told, tell me how I can attain this?’

  ‘Is she so perverse?’

  ‘Perverse isn’t the word for it – she is ice, immovable as a rock! Yes,’ returned the Emperor, ‘she is as cold as she is beautiful; and I have put her in prison! Believe me, Swami, I cannot sleep, eat, or work, for I am intensely, hopelessly miserable.’

  ‘I am truly sorry to see thy Majesty in such a plight,’ remarked Swami. ‘But why didst thou place the lady thou lovest in a prison? It seems a high-handed way of dealing with a subject; truly a mighty strange method of inducing her love?’

  ‘I was put in a quandary,’ replied Felicitas, for he knew t
here was no good gained by attempting to deceive the thought-reader. ‘I was suddenly surprised by visitors as I was attempting to detain her, when a craven spirit entered me, and I denounced her as a would-be murderer.’

  ‘Did she endeavour to harm thee?’ inquired Swami.

  ‘Yes, truly she raised her life-preserver to strike me if I touched her.’

  ‘But she did it in self-defence, evidently,’ retorted Swami, while a bright light illumined his dreamy eyes. ‘Besides, those ebony trifles that ladies sometimes carry do not kill, they do but temporarily paralyse the part they touch.’

  ‘Oh, it matters little now, what they do. I wish she had killed me outright; anything but this dreadful torture of doubt to go through. This frightful fear nearly drives me mad – I wish it were all over.’

  ‘What?’ inquired Swami, wishful to obtain a clear command from the king in so many words, for his thoughts were in a state of the wildest confusion.

  ‘The trial, the trial! I dread it. I wish I had never sent that warrant. The Crown Prosecutor has got the case in hand, and, Swami, I am ashamed of it. Help me, I pray thee, and tell me how it will all end, and I will well reward thee.’

  Swami soon perceived wherein the Emperor’s chief trouble lay. ‘I see by the brainwaves emanating from thee that the woman thou lovest is in confinement in the first-class misdemeanants’ quarters, in the Metropolitan Prison. Now that will do; I know enough.’

  Then the Emperor, remembering that the real object of his visit was not yet accomplished, blurted out – ‘I desire to learn the issue of the trial, that is my chief care at present.’

  ‘Of that I am aware, Sire,’ replied Swami. ‘Thou desirest to learn the issue of the trial on thine own account. I perfectly understand it. In the meantime, I would advise that Mercia be allowed her liberty, subject to her own recognisances. It will be more advisable from every point of view, lest thy subjects deem thee harsh and unjust towards her.’

  ‘Ha, Sorcerer, thou knowest her name! Who told it thee?’ exclaimed Felicitas in much surprise.

  ‘Thyself,’ replied the Soul-Reader. ‘I read it on thy brain. Moreover, fear, more than love, predominates within thy bosom. Thy Majesty doth dread the testimony of the witnesses arrayed against thee.’

  ‘I do not deny it,’ returned Felicitas, for he was subdued by the two-fold influence of anxiety concerning the impending case, and awe of the Soul-reader’s power to divine his thought. ‘But I must own it gives me more uneasiness the testimony of Mercia herself, for none will doubt her word.’

  ‘Then, let me advise thy Majesty to withdraw the charge and set the lady at liberty forthwith.’

  Felicitas, looking ill at ease, endeavoured to take the implied rebuke lightly. ‘The law still holds good that “a king can do no wrong”. But Swami,’ he continued in a pleading tone, ‘thine advice is good if my way be not: tell me first what the issue of the trial will be, and I will then accommodate myself to circumstances.’

  ‘Be it so,’ answered Swami, rising from his seat and conducting the Emperor into his library. From thence he led him into an inner room, which having no window was in a state of complete darkness.

  ‘Presently,’ explained Swami, ‘I will illumine the sensitive plate on which the scene is projected from my brain, and show to thy Majesty three pictures of the scenes which will certainly be enacted at the court, during the coming trial. For I find that the case will come off independently of thy action. I can only now advise what course thy Majesty can best take concerning it.’

  Then Swami, having all the results in readiness of his wonderful instrument – the psycho-register – touched a spring, and forthwith an immense illuminated picture appeared, filling one side of the room and representing a scene in the Great Hall of the Court, almost dazzling in its brilliancy of colouring. So complete was Felicitas’ surprise that he started back, for the strange vividness of the scene made him nervous; but Swami, accustomed to finding his visitors startled, reassured him.

  ‘Sire,’ said he, ‘be not alarmed, there is nothing to hurt thy Majesty.’

  It proved, in truth, a most wonderful and striking picture of the Great Justice Hall in the Metropolitan Court. Tiers of seats were filled to overflowing with the elite of Great Britain, and Ireland, Berlin, Paris, and most of the European Continent; nobles and great dames, and even several crowned heads, had assembled from all parts to see the cause celebre.

  In the dock was seated Mercia, looking calm, beautiful, and self-possessed. Innumerable opera glasses were being levelled at her by both sexes; while busy barristers in their black gowns and white wigs scanned their note-books. The place set apart for newspaper reporters was filled with representatives of the press setting in order their respective phonographs, which were to register the whole proceedings of the case.

  On his feet stood the Crown Prosecutor, stating his case, while Geometrus was seated at one side, but no Emperor Felicitas could be discovered anywhere: indeed, he was conspicuous by his absence, seeing he was the only witness in his own case.

  Felicitas gazed in amazement at the immense group photographed there; exclaiming from time to time, as he recognised each member of the nobility with whom he was acquainted, from the Duke of Northumberland to Nicholas of Russia and Louis of France.

  ‘Well, I must say, they’re all most excellent likenesses – they look, indeed, like living pictures. What a treat they are getting! An Emperor in a witness-box isn’t an every-day occurrence, to be sure! And, oh, there’s Mercia, how pale, how beautiful, how sad she appears! Ah, Swami, I have no heart to go on with this prosecution. I love her – I would die for her – canst thou not exercise thy magic and make her love me?’

  ‘I possess no power over the human heart,’ returned Swami. ‘My work is to make known futurity to a slight extent.’

  ‘Would she marry me if I were free?’

  ‘She is destined for another, far beneath thy Majesty in social position; but who can give her a heart wholly devoted to her.’

  ‘I am aware that Mercia is in love already. That fellow Geometrus desires her, and she loves him; at all events, she told me as much. I suppose thy prophecy refers to him. Turn on the next scene, if it be ready, for I would learn all with as great a speed as possible.’

  Upon hearing this request Swami pressed another button, and the room was enveloped in darkness, and the picture vanished altogether from sight. The next picture which appeared upon the crystal plate portrayed the court with the same visitors in similar order as before, but with this difference. The serious expression which the countenances of all present wore in the first instance was now changed to that of intense excitement in some, while the greater part of the audience seemed bursting with merriment.

  Mercia, on her part, was blushing; Geometrus was scowling, while all the barristers were endeavouring to conceal their merriment by fluttering their pocket-handkerchiefs under the pretence of blowing their noses. Mercia’s counsel wore an air of happy triumph, which appeared to indicate complete satisfaction with his own good management of the case. Felicitas was absent, as before, but his Empress was among the audience, looking as flushed and angered as an injured wife might well be.

  ‘What the deuce is everybody laughing at?’ queried the Emperor, while a deep frown crossed his face.

  ‘Canst not thy Majesty comprehend the situation?’

  ‘No, I do not,’ answered Felicitas. ‘Tell me the meaning of it all.’

  ‘Time alone will show the full development. There is sufficient pictured to give thy Majesty ample warning.’

  ‘It is easy enough to see that I shall be made a pretty laughing-stock for the whole world. They have worked some vile trick upon me – that is very evident. Strange that thou art unable to explain what it is!’

  ‘We have had enough of this,’ observed Swami, as he pressed the extinguishing button, producing perfect darkness. ‘We will now show the closing scene and dismiss the matter for tonight. Thine hour of trial is at hand. But see, here is Mer
cia’s hour of triumph, mark how everybody is showing her honour, and offering their congratulations.’

  However striking these photo-crystal pictures had appeared, this last, without doubt, displayed the most stirring scene. It represented the intense joy of a great multitude, who were offering their congratulations, and testifying their admiration of one who had gone through a severe ordeal, out of which she had come victorious.

  ‘’Tis the want of this that’s brought my trouble,’ murmured Felicitas. ‘If I had Mercia’s love, then wouldst thou see how pious I could be.’

  ‘Is a child contented wholly when one desire is satisfied? No, he cries hourly for new toys and new delights. Thy Majesty would weary in course of time with the beauteous Mercia, as thou hast wearied of thy spouse. Sire, be content; as thou hast made thy bed, so must thou lie upon it.’

  The Emperor fell silent for a moment, and then nodded. ‘This night urgent affairs of state shall summon me to Berlin. Good-bye, Swami, for the present. We shall see whether thy Soul-reading crystal plate has discovered to us the false or the true.’

  ‘How convenient to be a king, and know naught of the penalties of wrong-doing,’ thought Swami, as he conducted the monarch to the great doors, outside which his carriage stood in readiness.

  In consequence of Swami’s advice, the Emperor at the proper quarters intimated his desire to bestow the royal pardon on the Mercia; which command being as quickly carried out as officialism would admit, she was made acquainted with her position with little delay. When the governor of the prison read the document to Mercia which contained the so-called ‘pardon’, an indignant flush rose to her cheeks.

  ‘Ah!’ she cried, ‘the Emperor generously sends me a pardon before it is solicited, for a crime I have never committed! His clemency oppresses me – it is really more than I can accept.’

  ‘It is certainly most unparalleled in prison records,’ remarked the governor, who looked mystified. ‘I don’t know of a similar instance in all my experience. The pardon should be accorded after the sentence is passed, should the prisoner be found guilty. I understand that his Gracious Majesty being himself the prosecutor, departs from the ordinary routine observed in such matters. He desires to set thee at liberty without further delay.’