The Lady of the Shroud by Bram Stoker (knowledgeable books to read .txt) 📖

I looked

across the bay and up the mountain behind—a mighty mountain, whose

slopes run up to the very sky, ridge after ridge seeming like itself

a mountain. Far away on the very top the standard of the Blue

Mountains was run up on a mighty Flagstaff which seemed like a shaft

of light. It was two hundred feet high, and painted white, and as at

the distance the steel stays were invisible, it towered up in lonely

grandeur. At its foot was a dark mass grouped behind a white space,

which I could not make out till I used my field-glasses.

 

Then I knew it was King Rupert and the Queen in the midst of a group

of mountaineers. They were on the aero station behind the platform

of the aero, which seemed to shine—shine, not glitter—as though it

were overlaid with plates of gold.

 

Again the faces looked west. The Western Squadron was drawing near

to the entrance of the Blue Mouth. On the bridge of the yacht stood

the Western King in uniform of an Admiral, and by him his Queen in a

dress of royal purple, splendid with gold. Another glance at the

mountain-top showed that it had seemed to become alive. A whole park

of artillery seemed to have suddenly sprung to life, round each its

crew ready for action. Amongst the group at the foot of the

Flagstaff we could distinguish King Rupert; his vast height and bulk

stood out from and above all round him. Close to him was a patch of

white, which we understood to be Queen Teuta, whom the Blue

Mountaineers simply adore.

 

By this time the armoured yacht, bearing all the signatories to

“Balka” (excepting King Rupert), had moved out towards the entrance,

and lay still and silent, waiting the coming of the Royal Arbitrator,

whose whole squadron simultaneously slowed down, and hardly drifted

in the seething water of their backing engines.

 

When the flag which was in the yacht’s prow was almost opposite the

armoured fort, the Western King held up a roll of vellum handed to

him by one of his officers. We onlookers held our breath, for in an

instant was such a scene as we can never hope to see again.

 

At the raising of the Western King’s hand, a gun was fired away on

the top of the mountain where rose the mighty Flagstaff with the

standard of the Blue Mountains. Then came the thunder of salute from

the guns, bright flashes and reports, which echoed down the hillsides

in never-ending sequence. At the first gun, by some trick of

signalling, the flag of the Federated “Balka” floated out from the

top of the Flagstaff, which had been mysteriously raised, and flew

above that of the Blue Mountains.

 

At the same moment the figures of Rupert and Teuta sank; they were

taking their places on the aeroplane. An instant after, like a great

golden bird, it seemed to shoot out into the air, and then, dipping

its head, dropped downward at an obtuse angle. We could see the King

and Queen from time waist upwards—the King in Blue Mountain dress of

green; the Queen, wrapped in her white Shroud, holding her baby on

her breast. When far out from the mountain-top and over the Blue

Mouth, the wings and tail of the great bird-like machine went up, and

the aero dropped like a stone, till it was only some few hundred feet

over the water. Then the wings and tail went down, but with

diminishing speed. Below the expanse of the plane the King and Queen

were now seen seated together on the tiny steering platform, which

seemed to have been lowered; she sat behind her husband, after the

manner of matrons of the Blue Mountains. That coming of that

aeroplane was the most striking episode of all this wonderful day.

 

After floating for a few seconds, the engines began to work, whilst

the planes moved back to their normal with beautiful simultaneity.

There was a golden aero finding its safety in gliding movement. At

the same time the steering platform was rising, so that once more the

occupants were not far below, but above the plane. They were now

only about a hundred feet above the water, moving from the far end of

the Blue Mouth towards the entrance in the open space between the two

lines of the fighting ships of the various nationalities, all of

which had by now their yards manned—a manoeuvre which had begun at

the firing of the first gun on the mountain-top. As the aero passed

along, all the seamen began to cheer—a cheering which they kept up

till the King and Queen had come so close to the Western King’s

vessel that the two Kings and Queens could greet each other. The

wind was now beginning to blow westward from the mountain-top, and it

took the sounds towards the armoured fort, so that at moments we

could distinguish the cheers of the various nationalities, amongst

which, more keen than the others, came the soft “Ban Zai!” of the

Japanese.

 

King Rupert, holding his steering levers, sat like a man of marble.

Behind him his beautiful wife, clad in her Shroud, and holding in her

arms the young Crown Prince, seemed like a veritable statue.

 

The aero, guided by Rupert’s unerring hand, lit softly on the after-deck of the Western King’s yacht; and King Rupert, stepping on deck,

lifted from her seat Queen Teuta with her baby in her arms. It was

only when the Blue Mountain King stood amongst other men that one

could realize his enormous stature. He stood literally head and

shoulders over every other man present.

 

Whilst the aeroplane was giving up its burden, the Western King and

his Queen were descending from the bridge. The host and hostess,

hand in hand—after their usual fashion, as it seems—hurried forward

to greet their guests. The meeting was touching in its simplicity.

The two monarchs shook hands, and their consorts, representatives of

the foremost types of national beauty of the North and South,

instinctively drew close and kissed each other. Then the hostess

Queen, moving towards the Western King, kneeled before him with the

gracious obeisance of a Blue Mountain hostess, and kissed his hand.

 

Her words of greeting were:

 

“You are welcome, sire, to the Blue Mountains. We are grateful to

you for all you have done for Balka, and to you and Her Majesty for

giving us the honour of your presence.”

 

The King seemed moved. Accustomed as he was to the ritual of great

occasions, the warmth and sincerity, together with the gracious

humility of this old Eastern custom, touched him, monarch though he

was of a great land and many races in the Far East. Impulsively he

broke through Court ritual, and did a thing which, I have since been

told, won for him for ever a holy place in the warm hearts of the

Blue Mountaineers. Sinking on his knee before the beautiful shroud-clad Queen, he raised her hand and kissed it. The act was seen by

all in and around the Blue Mouth, and a mighty cheering rose, which

seemed to rise and swell as it ran far and wide up the hillsides,

till it faded away on the far-off mountain-top, where rose

majestically the mighty Flagstaff bearing the standard of the Balkan

Federation.

 

For myself, I can never forget that wonderful scene of a nation’s

enthusiasm, and the core of it is engraven on my memory. That

spotless deck, typical of all that is perfect in naval use; the King

and Queen of the greatest nation of the earth {3} received by the

newest King and Queen—a King and Queen who won empire for

themselves, so that the former subject of another King received him

as a brother-monarch on a history-making occasion, when a new world-power was, under his tutelage, springing into existence. The fair

Northern Queen in the arms of the dark Southern Queen with the starry

eyes. The simple splendour of Northern dress arrayed against that of

almost peasant plainness of the giant King of the South. But all

were eclipsed—even the thousand years of royal lineage of the

Western King, Rupert’s natural dower of stature, and the other

Queen’s bearing of royal dignity and sweetness—by the elemental

simplicity of Teuta’s Shroud. Not one of all that mighty throng but

knew something of her wonderful story; and not one but felt glad and

proud that such a noble woman had won an empire through her own

bravery, even in the jaws of the grave.

 

The armoured yacht, with the remainder of the signatories to the

Balkan Federation, drew close, and the rulers stepped on board to

greet the Western King, the Arbitrator, Rupert leaving his task as

personal host and joining them. He took his part modestly in the

rear of the group, and made a fresh obeisance in his new capacity.

 

Presently another warship, The Balka, drew close. It contained the

ambassadors of Foreign Powers, and the Chancellors and high officials

of the Balkan nations. It was followed by a fleet of warships, each

one representing a Balkan Power. The great Western fleet lay at

their moorings, but with the exception of manning their yards, took

no immediate part in the proceedings.

 

On the deck of the new-comer the Balkan monarchs took their places,

the officials of each State grading themselves behind their monarch.

The Ambassadors formed a foremost group by themselves.

 

Last came the Western King, quite alone (save for the two Queens),

bearing in his hand the vellum scroll, the record of his arbitration.

This he proceeded to read, a polyglot copy of it having been already

supplied to every Monarch, Ambassador, and official present. It was

a long statement, but the occasion was so stupendous—so intense—

that the time flew by quickly. The cheering had ceased the moment

the Arbitrator opened the scroll, and a veritable silence of the

grave abounded.

 

When the reading was concluded Rupert raised his hand, and on the

instant came a terrific salvo of cannon-shots from not only the ships

in the port, but seemingly all up and over the hillsides away to the

very summit.

 

When the cheering which followed the salute had somewhat toned down,

those on board talked together, and presentations were made. Then

the barges took the whole company to the armour-clad fort in the

entrance-way to the Blue Mouth. Here, in front, had been arranged

for the occasion, platforms for the starting of aeroplanes. Behind

them were the various thrones of state for the Western King and

Queen, and the various rulers of “Balka”—as the new and completed

Balkan Federation had become—de jure as well as de facto. Behind

were seats for the rest of the company. All was a blaze of crimson

and gold. We of the Press were all expectant, for some ceremony had

manifestly been arranged, but of all details of it we had been kept

in ignorance. So far as I could tell from the faces, those present

were at best but partially informed. They were certainly ignorant of

all details, and even of the entire programme of the day. There is a

certain kind of expectation which is not concerned in the mere

execution of fore-ordered things.

 

The aero on which the King and Queen had come down from the mountain

now arrived on the platform in the charge of a tall young

mountaineer, who stepped from the steering-platform at once. King

Rupert, having handed his Queen (who still carried her baby) into her

seat, took his place, and pulled a lever. The aero went forward, and

seemed to fall head foremost off the fort. It was but a dip,

however, such as a skilful diver takes from a height into shallow

water, for the plane