“Would they forgive me if I put things back the way they were?”
The Minister of War drew his saber. “Your Royal Highness, you can count on us, from me down to the lowliest private. We’ll march shoulder to shoulder with our hero and king leading us. We’ll defend our country and our honor as soldiers.”
“That’s good, that’s very good.”
All’s not lost yet, thought Matt.
THE MINISTERS WERE late and quite out of breath, because they were not used to going anywhere on foot. Out of habit, the marshal of the court announced that the ministers’ cars had arrived, but in fact their cars had been ruined by their children, and their chauffeurs were busy doing homework.
Matt told them what had happened and that it was all the work of the journalist-spy. Now they had to find a way out of the trouble.
They immediately instructed the newspaper to announce that the children had to go back to school tomorrow; if anyone heard the news late, he still had to go even if he was tardy. The grownups could wait till the noon break, but then they had to return to their old jobs. The unemployed would continue to receive pay for another month, and then, if they wished, they could go to Bum Drum’s country to build houses, schools, and hospitals. Both parliaments would be closed temporarily. The grownups’ parliament would be opened first, and then the question of youths over fifteen years of age would be considered. When the subcommittee had worked out the regulations, the children’s parliament would be reopened as well, except that now the children would state their desires and then the grownups’ parliament would either approve or reject them. The children would not be able to give orders to grownups. Only children who were well behaved and doing well in school would be able to vote for delegates.
Matt and all the ministers signed the proclamation.
Matt wrote a second proclamation to the army, in which he recalled their victory in the last war.
“Our two most important fortresses have been blown up. And so let the heroic heart of every soldier be our fortress against anyone who would attack our land,” concluded the proclamation, which was signed by Matt and the Minister of War.
The Minister of Commerce asked the storekeepers to get everything back in order and reopen their stores. That would make the city look less dreary and dirty.
The Minister of Education promised the children that their parliament would reopen soon if they worked diligently in school.
The prefect of police guaranteed that, first thing tomorrow, the police would be back on duty.
“There’s no more we can do right now,” said the Prime Minister. “We have to wait until the telegraph and postal systems are working to find out what’s been happening in the rest of the country and the world.”
“But what could have happened?” cried Matt in alarm, because everything seemed to be going too well. But perhaps the sad king had only been trying to frighten him.
“We don’t know. We don’t know anything.”
Everything was fine the next day. After the first class of the day, when the newspaper was read aloud, the teachers said farewell to their pupils and the grownups left for home. It took a little time for them to give the children back their schoolbooks and papers, but by twelve o’clock things were back to normal. And it must be said that everyone was happy—the grownups, the children, and the teachers.
The teachers did not admit this to the children, but the grownups had given them a lot of problems, too. There were quite a few troublemakers among those under thirty: they quarreled, laughed, and made noise during class. The older grownups were bored; they kept saying that their seats weren’t comfortable, that they had headaches, that the room was stuffy and the ink was no good. The oldest ones slept, or paid no attention, and didn’t mind when the teachers yelled at them, because many of them were deaf. The younger grownups were always playing tricks on the older ones, who kept complaining to the teachers. And the teachers really were used to having children in school and were glad when things went back to normal.
The office workers pretended to be angry because the children had left things a mess, but they also saw the good side of it—if some important paper was ever missing, they could always blame it on the children. Because there are different sorts of officials: those who keep their papers in order, and those who do not.
Things were worse in the factories, but the unemployed workers were glad to lend a hand, hoping that when the foremen saw how well they worked, they might keep them on.
There were a few minor disturbances, but the police were well rested and set to work first thing in the morning. The crooks were lying low, because they had stolen plenty and eaten until they were stuffed, and now they were afraid their crimes would be brought to light. And some of them, the ones who weren’t real crooks, even returned what they had taken.
When the royal automobile drove around the city late that day, Matt saw little trace of yesterday’s chaos.
Matt was waiting for news, which was bound to come sometime that evening.
Meanwhile, Klu Klu had resumed her classes with the group leaders. Matt came to one class, and he was surprised at how quickly the African children were learning. But Klu Klu explained that she had chosen the smartest and hardest-working ones to be group leaders and the others would not learn as quickly as they did. Poor Klu Klu had no idea what a sad end would soon come to her lessons.
As usual, the Prime Minister was the first to arrive. The Minister of War had been the first to arrive the day before, because he was used to traveling by foot.
The Prime Minister was carrying a portfolio of papers under his arm, and he looked sad and worried.
“How are things, Mr. Minister?”
“Things are bad,” he said, sighing. “But we might have expected it. Maybe it’s even better this way.”
“So what’s going on? Be quick about it.”
“War!”
Matt shuddered.
When all the ministers arrived, the meeting began.
The old king had renounced his throne and given the crown to his son. The son had declared war on Matt and immediately set off with his army for Matt’s capital.
“Has he crossed the border?”
“Two days ago. He’s thirty miles inside the country.”
They began reading the telegrams and letters, which took a long time. Matt closed his weary eyes; he listened closely, but did not say a word.
Maybe it’s even better this way, he thought.
The Minister of War took the floor. “I don’t know what route the enemy has chosen yet, but he’s probably marching on the two fortresses that were blown up. If he advances quickly, he can reach the capital in five days. If not, we can expect him here in ten days.”
“What, aren’t we going out to meet him?” cried Matt suddenly.
“Impossible. The people will have to defend themselves. We’ll send out a couple of small detachments, but it’s a waste of men and rifles. My opinion is—let them come. The main battle will take place on the field right outside the capital. Either we win or . . .”
He didn’t finish his sentence.
“Is there any chance the other two kings might help us?” interrupted the Minister of Foreign Affairs.
“There’s no time for that,” cut in the Minister of War. “Besides, that’s not my department.”
The Minister of Foreign Affairs spoke for a long time about what had to be done so the other two kings would come out against Matt’s enemy.
“We can certainly count on the sad king. But he doesn’t like going to war and doesn’t have many soldiers. He won’t be any help. He didn’t take part in the last war, either. He’ll do what the king who’s the friend of the Oriental kings does. Matt left him all the Oriental kings, and so he has no reason to fight us. But who knows? Maybe he wants some of the African kings back.”
Then the Prime Minister spoke: “Gentlemen, you may not agree with me, but please don’t get angry. Here is my advice: send a note to the enemy, saying w
e don’t want war and asking him to state clearly what he wants. I think he only wants money. Why else would he have yielded us a seaport and sold us ten ships so cheaply? Because he wanted Bum Drum to send us gold. We have plenty of money. Why not give him half?”
Matt said nothing. He clenched his fists and remained silent.
“Mr. Prime Minister,” said the Minister of Finance. “I don’t think he’ll agree. Why take half the gold when you can take it all? Why should he stop fighting when he’s sure he can win?”
Now Matt clenched his fists until his fingernails dug into his flesh. He was waiting.
“I think we have to send him a note,” said the Minister of War. “If he answers it, we can reply to his note, but that’s not my department. But I do know that this will take a few days, or a couple of days, or even just one day. Every hour is precious. In the meantime, we could be repairing fifty or a hundred cannons and a couple of thousand rifles.”
“But what if he agrees to take half the gold and cease hostilities?” asked Matt in a soft and very pleasant voice that sounded strange and not like him at all.
There was a moment of silence. Everyone looked at the Minister of War, who turned pale, then red, then pale again before sputtering out: “Then we agree, too.”
Then he added: “We can’t win this war all by ourselves. And it’s too late for help.”
Matt closed his eyes and kept them closed until the end of the meeting. But Matt wasn’t sleeping; Matt’s lips twitched every time he heard the ministers say: “We humbly request that the enemy king . . .” as they composed the note.
When he picked up his pen to sign, Matt asked: “Can’t we write something else instead of ‘We humbly request’?”
The note was rewritten and the expression “We humbly request” was changed to “We desire.”
“We desire to cease hostilities.”
“We desire to settle this quarrel peaceably.”
“We desire to pay the war costs with half our gold.”
It was two o’clock in the morning when Matt signed the note. Without taking off his clothes, he flung himself on his bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. And he was still awake at dawn.
“Victory or death,” he kept saying. “Victory or death.”
THE OLD KING’S son was advancing with his entire army toward the two fortresses that had been blown up. Just as the Minister of War had guessed, for that was his department. But the enemy was advancing very slowly, and there the Minister of War had been wrong.
The young king had to be extremely careful; he was moving slowly because he made his army dig trenches whenever they halted. This was the first time he had ever gone to war, and he was afraid of being surrounded. He remembered what his father had done in the last war—first he had let Matt enter the country and then he attacked him from the rear. The young king had to be very careful not to lose this war. Otherwise, everyone would say: “The old king was better, we want him back.” And so he had to prove that he really was better than his father.
He preferred to move slowly, carefully. And why should he hurry? Matt couldn’t wage war, because his soldiers were going to school and the children were ruining the cannons. They had their cunning journalist-spy in Matt’s capital making sure there was as much disorder and confusion as possible. Things had worked out wonderfully well—the children had done a better job ruining the railroads and telegraph system than any saboteur could have. It would take some time for Matt to find out that a war had started, and even then, he wouldn’t be able to field many troops.
And with those thoughts in mind, the old king’s son saw no reason to hurry. His soldiers should save their strength for the battle outside Matt’s capital. He knew there would have to be at least one big battle.
His troops marched on and on without meeting any resistance. The citizens of Matt’s country saw that no one was coming to defend them, which made them angry at Matt. And so they didn’t fight either. Some of them even greeted the enemy as saviors, saying: “Send the children back to school, Matt’s day is done . . .”
Then suddenly someone appeared waving a white flag.
“Aha, so Matt’s found out about the war.”
The young king read Matt’s letter and began to laugh. “Oho-ho, your Matt is so generous, he’ll give me half his gold. What a present, ho-ho-ho, who wouldn’t be tempted?”
“What answer shall I bring my king? If half our gold isn’t enough, we can give you more. But I would like an answer, please.”
“All right, then, tell King Matt that you don’t negotiate with children, you give them a good thrashing. And don’t bring me any more letters, or we might take you prisoner. Off with you, and be quick about it!”
The young king threw Matt’s letter to the ground and trampled it underfoot.
“Your Royal Highness, international law requires that a king’s letter be answered in writing.”
“Fine, then, I’ll write to him.”
The young king picked up Matt’s letter, now crumpled and dirty, and he wrote but three words on it: “I’m no fool!”
Meanwhile, news of the war and Matt’s letter had spread through the capital and everyone was impatiently awaiting the answer.
The young king’s reply made everyone furious.
“That conceited little squirt. We’ll show him.”
The city began preparing to defend itself.
“We’ll show him yet.”
Everyone was on Matt’s side. People forgot their grudges and their grievances and saw only the good in him. Now all the newspapers, and not just one, were writing about Matt the Reformer, Matt the Hero.
The factories were working day and night. The troops drilled in the streets and on the squares. Everyone kept repeating Matt’s words: “Victory or death!”
Every day, there was fresh news and fresh rumors, some bad, some good.
The enemy is approaching the capital.
The sad king has promised to help Matt.
Bum Drum has sent all his soldiers.
Each time Klu Klu brought her thousand students into the city, the people would be seized by such fervor they would throw flowers at her and carry her on their shoulders.
Meanwhile, the enemy was indeed approaching.
And then one day the great battle began.
The people in the city heard the sound of guns. In the evening, they climbed up on their roofs and said they saw artillery fire—though they really hadn’t.
On the second day of the battle, the guns sounded fainter. Everyone said that meant that Matt was winning and was driving the enemy away from the capital.
The third day was quiet.
The enemy must be far away now.
But then news arrived from the battlefield that the enemy had indeed withdrawn three miles but had not been smashed. The enemy had simply moved back to the trenches he had dug earlier just to be on the safe side.
Matt could have won the battle, but he did not have enough cannons and powder. The enemy had not been prepared to meet such stiff resistance, but Matt had to be very sparing with his powder so as not to be left without any at all. It was a shame, but what else could he do?
Meanwhile, the journalist-spy had gone to see the young king, who attacked him furiously. “Why did you tell me that Matt had no cannons or powder! You useless fool! If I hadn’t been careful, I could have lost the war.”
Only then did the spy tell him what had happened—Matt had uncovered him, fired a shot at him; he had barely escaped with his life and had spent a week hiding in a cellar. He said that someone must have betrayed them, for Matt had gone out into the city and seen the terrible chaos for himself. He told the young king about Felek and everything else.
“Matt’s not in a good situation. He doesn’t have much powder and cannon. But it’s easier to defend than to attack. And besides, he’s in his capital; everything he needs is right at hand. And we have to ship everything in from far away. We can’t win it alone. The friend of the Oriental kings has to co
me to our aid.”
“Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. He doesn’t like me very much. And besides, if he helps us, we’ll have to split with him.”
“That’s how it goes.”
But maybe it would be smarter to take half the gold and make peace, thought the young king.
But you have to finish what you start. And so the spy was sent to the capital of the king who was the friend of the Oriental kings, to try to persuade him to attack Matt.
But the king didn’t want to.
“Matt hasn’t done me any harm.”
But the spy kept at it.
“You should join us against Matt because Matt will lose the war anyway. After all, the young king is already at Matt’s capital. He’s got that far by himself and he can go the rest of the way alone. But what does that mean? That means he gets everything for himself. The young king doesn’t need help, he simply wants to share the spoils so the other kings won’t be envious of him.”
“First, I want to confer with the sad king. Either we’ll both join you or neither of us will.”
“When can I expect an answer?”
“In three days.”
“Fine.”
And so the friend of the Oriental kings wrote to the sad king asking what he wanted to do. He received an immediate reply saying that the sad king was seriously ill and could not answer the letter. Then came a letter from Matt asking for his help, saying that he had been unfairly attacked.
“You can see for yourself what the young king is like: he pretended to be my friend by giving me a seaport as a present and selling me ships. But now he’s blown up two of my fortresses and he took advantage of the children’s ruining the telephones and telegraph to attack me. I asked him what his grievances were and told him I would pay him half my gold if he hadn’t really meant the seaport as a present. But he spouted a lot of nonsense and then wrote me saying: ‘I’m no fool.’ Is that right?”
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