Chapter 5
The court of the Archduke of Austria was a dramatic venue for Victorina to launch her counter-accusations at Sophie.
“The child took advantage of me leaving the train a trifle secretively, wishing to renew an old acquaintance, but not wishing to bring scandal upon the name of my old friend,” said Victorina, airily. “She must have realised how much like me she looks, superficially, at least, and wanted to play some schoolgirl prank, in seeing how long she could fool my servants. My poor Boris was quite taken in by her, but then, he is not the sharpest stick in the bundle,” she added, throwing the baron to the wolves. “I was, of course, devastated to hear that my evil cousin had taken her hostage in mistake for me; I cannot think what she is playing at in continuing the imposture and promising what she cannot fulfil, unless it is some perverse game of Dmitri’s, using the malleable schoolgirl’s desire for thrills. I think that must be it,” she added. “Goodness knows what the child’s poor parents feel about this.”
Sophie’s father arrived at the palace in Berzhostrov, in a British cloud destroyer, before the men from the newspapers had left.
They clamoured for a story.
“You shall have one when I have spoken with my daughter and, I collect, future son-in-law,” said Edward Harmon.
“Papa Harmon, I have not asked yet for your permission,” said Dmitry, bowing low. “Your daughter has quickly become my sun and my moon, and my friend.”
“If you had not said the last, I’d have said, ‘No’ and made you court her,” said Edward. “Your highness, I am uncomfortable about sending my daughter into a war zone.”
“I wish it were not so,” said Dmitry. “I am hoping to raise the interest of Britain, so keen to support the underdog, and fight injustice. I have dared to write a letter to King Edward, in the hopes that he will support my claims for justice.”
“I was told to negotiate with you, and find out the justice of your claim,” said Edward.
“Well, in that case, you had best come to my study, and I will show you sundry documents,” said Dmitry. “It will do Sophie no harm to review them as well as having my opinion. The gentlemen of the press must drink coffee and eat cakes for an hour or so; please ring for servants, who are instructed to care for you.”
Dmitry talked for an hour, showing letters, and copies of orders, whilst Edward Harmon nodded his head, and made notes.
“You make a convincing case,” he said. “In which case, I am requested and required to place the services of HMS ‘Thunderchild[1]’ at your disposal, to aid your fight against Svardovia if a peaceful settlement cannot be reached, which covers your independence.”
“I am much obliged,” said Dmitry, who might have hoped for more, but had expected less. A British ironclad liftium cloud-ship was a great boon, and could carry more firepower than any zeppelin of equivalent size.
Edward Harmon returned to the room where the press men were waiting.
“Gentlemen; I am Ambassador Harmon, and I have brought HMS ‘Thunderchild’ to help enforce a peace and negotiations towards the independence of Krasnytsya.”
“Britain is not joining Krasnytsya in the war?”
“No, Britain will remain ruthlessly neutral unless given any reason to be otherwise,” said Edward.
Of course, overseeing independence was hardly neutral, but the ‘Thunderchild’ would only fire if fired on first.
Naturally, it was only proper for Prince Dmitry to be shown the ship, and meet the captain and his officers, and for Sophie to go too.
She clung to the arms of both her father and Dmitry, as Captain Thorndyke was introduced, a man in his thirties with a full naval set of whiskers in dark brown, and light blue eyes which crinkled around laughter lines.
“An honour to meet your highness, and Miss Harmon,” said the captain.
The reporters had not been forbidden to come, so there were more pictures taken, and Captain Thorndyke asked what his opinion of the situation was.
“Gentlemen, I will answer you in rhyme,” said Thorndyke. “My job is to prevent; I go where I am sent; the rules are never bent.”
“Now, I heard that although Britannia rules the waves, she mostly waives the rules,” said the reporter from New York.
“Not at all,” said Captain Thorndyke. “We always obey the rules; but it’s not our problem if our rules don’t coincide with those of other people.”
“Casuistry,” said the New Yorker.
“We invented it,” said Thorndyke.
“Oh!” said Sophie. “Papa, you have let me down. If you had told me that Politics was no more than little boys grown large jostling in the schoolyard to determine who could sit at the back of the class and get the penny for carrying the teacher’s books, I should have understood far more than you telling me that it was a complex and often dirty business.”
“Well, Sophie, some of the games little boys play to determine the pecking order should not be mentioned in front of girls and ladies,” said Edward Harmon. “His highness is killing himself with laughter.”
“Please, papa, call me ‘Dmitry,’” said Dmitry. “I am struck by how well my bride has understood the realities of the basis of politics. Sly kicks to the ankles, and barging each other into the wall are the less pleasant realities of such polite open diplomacyfare, as one cannot call it warfare. But perhaps we might shelve the politics so that Captain Thorndyke can tell us what are the capabilities of this wonderful ship. It does not run on coal or oil, I see?”
“The use of coal or oil makes the weight too great for liftium,” said Thorndyke. “I believe experiments are being made into the use of kerosene, such as most motor-cars run on.”
“My own adapted vehicle runs on such,” said Dmitry. “I have had no problems. The keel has been steeped in Liftium until saturated, I believe is the proper way to do things.”
Thorndyke looked briefly over at the reporters who had wandered off, bored by technical details they could look up in the naval Kalendar, and gripped Dmitry by the arm to lead him further away,
“And it is not commonly known,” hissed Thorndyke. “The French use tanks of Liftium. How did you know? It is a secret technique invented, like the production of Liftium, by Sir Humphrey Davy.”
“My apologies,” said Dmitry. “I had no idea it was still secret, since I worked out what must have been done when I found the crashed pinnace; there was a distinctive scent to the keel. I thought it common knowledge by now. Otherwise I would not have spoken of it. I notice, too, that the effect wears off over time, and that is why I added wings.”
“Yes, it must be re-treated from time to time,” said Thorndyke. “I will ask about having your pinnace brought to England for treatment, if you will be so good as to remain silent.”
“I do not need a bribe to keep an ally’s secrets,” said Dmitry, proudly. “But I will not turn down the offer. My little craft was lost from the ‘Warspite’ during the Russian war.”
“Ah, then of similar vintage to ‘Thunderchild,’ who started life as a flying wooden wall,” said Thorndyke. He raised his voice slightly as the reporters seemed to wonder what private discussions might be about. “The ship is the incorrectly named ‘ironclad,’ though it is actually steel, stronger and lighter than iron,” said Thorndyke. “It was a compromise; armour or coal. It’s not heavy armour, but it protects certain vital areas. She’s an old lady. We carry three three-inch guns on the centreline, one forrard, one aft, and one amidships. They are supplemented by a couple of six-pounders, one each side of the bridge, just aft of the fo’c’sle gun. We have two heavy machine-guns, and a number of mounting-points on which to put them, and they carry Buckingham rounds, specifically against Zeppelins – the rounds are arranged to be one explosive, and one incendiary, so that the first pierces the gas bag, and the next ignites the hydrogen within.”
“In other words, Captain Thorndyke, this one small, aging vessel is a devastating fox amongst any gaggle of a dozen or fewer zeppelins,” said Dmitry.
“Well, yes, so it is,” said Thorndyke.
“I feel an affection for your old lady already,” said Dmitry. “I am sure that when the members of the press write about her, they will find her venerable record and note that His Majesty of Great Britain has sent an ageing vessel as a token to enforce the peace on the border whilst negotiations are arranged?”
Edward Harmon shot him a sharp look.
“You think that the Svardovians would try to shoot down ‘Thunderchild?’” he asked. “Would that not be counterproductive, and bring Britain into the war fully?”
“If the negotiations are to be held on ‘Thunderchild,’ and I have already moved aboard to await Victorina, with my bride, I think it will be a bait she would take,” said Dmitry. “Especially if she can manoeuvre some way in which ‘Thunderchild’ fires first.”
“I believe I am wise to most machinations to avoid doing such a thing,” said Thorndyke.
“Then you must warn your men to be equally continent,” said Dmitry. “We are not western Europeans, captain. We show our teeth when we smile as well as when we snarl. And I do not rule out various ways in which the English… no, sorry, British, flag is defiled and ridiculed. Would your men refrain from shooting if a pair of hairy buttocks overhung a gondola gallery, and then used your flag to wipe up what he has supposedly produced?”
“Hell!” swore Thorndyke. “I am not sure my crew would not be incensed by such.”
“Then, you must tell them that such things are possible, and that to ignore them is their victory, to avoid firing first and embarrassing your king. Me, I was educated in England, so I understand what is the English way; which is stoic and unrelenting, a stiff upper lip, but that an Englishman can be taunted with certain things. Miscall his wife, and he will smile, icily. Miscall his family, and he will put on a faint, derisory sneer. Miscall his dog, or his horse, and he will show that he is vexed with you, and might call names. Miscall a sailor’s ship, and he will fight; miscall the King or the Late Queen or the flag, and he will fly into a fury.”
“I see you have the number of the average Englishman,” said Thorndyke, with a faint smile. “I will tell my crew that the Svardovians do not have the advantage of a ruler with an English public school[2] background, and that they are barbarians, and one should pay them no more heed than children trying to shock.”
“That seems reasonable,” said Dmitry. “Of course, despite my years in Winchester, I am still a wild barbarian when I wish to be, so do not be disappointed with my education, Sophie!”
“Oh, thank goodness for that,” said Sophie. “I despaired of you throwing me into your flyer and making off with me to your barbarian fastness.”
“Oh, I am wild and wicked,” said Dmitry. “You will find me totally barbaric.”
Sophie blushed.
“Not in front of me, please,” said Harmon. “She’s still my daughter, you know.”
“Of course, sir,” said Dmitry. “I won’t let her rip off the veneer of civilisation until we are safely married, and she can let out the wild man at her leisure.”
“Well, if she has control of letting the wild man out, I will worry less,” said Harmon. “I will write a diplomatic letter inviting the King of Svardovia or his representative to join us aboard the ‘Thunderchild’ on the border.”
oOoOo
Victorina’s story came out, but was paralleled by Sophie’s admission of a childish prank on her – and the clear story that she had been called to Victorina’s suite, backed up by Victorina’s former maid. The maid’s testimony was considered very telling. Dmitry made sure that Sophie did not see any newspapers which encouraged letters, for though some were supportive, others suggested that she should be well whipped for leaving her destination of finishing school, whether voluntarily or enticed. He wrote a stiff letter to the editor himself, saying that a true lady does not rudely turn down an invitation, hardly expecting the request to change clothes to be very much an order, at which point a young girl surrounded by adults could do little but what was forced upon her.
Public opinion tended to be in Sophie’s favour; she was very young, and had an openness to her, which was not dispelled by admitting to a brief pretence to ‘pay back’ the woman who had kidnapped her.
Subtle, judicious, and almost invisible makeup by Magda also led to several comparisons being drawn between her youthful loveliness and the heavily- made-up princess, with her scarlet painted mouth. Sophie hated the feel of lipstick and refused to wear it.
Dmitry did not mind; her kisses tasted sweeter.
oOoOo
One reason that Victorina was the face of Svardobia was that her father was succumbing to senile decay, and though he was sharp enough some days, he was aware of losing days, and felt the need for his daughter’s support. Victorina, summoned home after the gaiety of Vienna, as well as the tide of public opinion turning against her, was in a fine old rage.
“I want that girl in my dungeons, stripped for flogging and torture!” she declared.
“What about this English gunboat sent to enforce an independent Krasnytsya?” asked her father.
“It will have to be have to be destroyed!” cried Victorina. “And perhaps I will promise to spare the girl some torture if Dmitry will submit to me, to save her. I will still torture her, of course. Boris! Find me a peasant girl who looks similar enough, for me to practise on.”
[1] Yes, the name of the ironclad featured in ‘War of the Worlds.’ I love Jeff Wayne’s musical version, and I might have to write the adventures of HMS ‘Thunderchild’ in this steampunk world, just because.
[2] Public school – in England this is a fee-paying school with a board of governors, considered the cream of the cream of education. Places like Eton and Winchester.
No comments:
Post a Comment