Antal Szerb: Oliver VII

“To live among the natives?”

“Yes.”

“That’ll suit her. She’ll be able to express her manly energy to the full. But Parliament? Government? The people?”

“You must simply leave that to us. I can supply details if you wish. But first, the most important thing is that we come to an agreement in principle.”

“Indeed,” the King replied, in a low, solemn voice. “I am extremely sorry, my dear Mr Coltor, that we have dragged you here. I am compelled to state here and now that I have no intention of coming to terms with you.”

Baudrieu and Honoré, who had been growing increasingly worried that Oscar was doing so much of the talking, now turned pale and glanced at their leader, as did the astonished Coltor. But the Count, with the greatest of composure, declared:

“ … His Highness means that he has no intention of agreeing before we have subjected the treaty to considerable revision.” He paused to stroke his chin, appeared to be lost for a moment in thought, then continued:

“The treaty in its present form does not address the interests of the poorest class of the Alturian people.”

“Hear, hear!” slipped out involuntarily from the Major’s mouth. Now it was the King’s turn to stare at St Germain in amazement. He had not expected this.

“Alturia, most respected sir,” St Germain went on, “is from the social point of view a regrettably backward country. That is why it is His Highness’ greatest wish that the Concern, should it win the monopoly in question, would be required to assume a large burden of responsibility for social welfare in Alturia; at its own expense, that is.”

“Yes indeed,” said the King, looking at St Germain less in astonishment than with a kind of intense joy. Then he himself continued:

“Now listen, Mr Coltor. I have given this matter a great deal of thought ever since. The fishermen and the wine producers will need exemption from all taxes for a period of five years, and the Concern will have to compensate the Treasury for the shortfall. Then, we have to agree the terms on which the fishermen and the wine producers can take out interest-free loans to improve equipment used in production … ”

The King paused for reflection, whereupon St Germain took over again:

“ … and there are five or six other such desiderata, on which His Highness and his entourage in exile have been working, day and night — at a time, I might add, when everyone thought he was simply spending the time in pleasure pursuits — proposals which we are ready to make available to Mr Coltor for his consideration over the next few days, should Mr Coltor indicate his willingness in principle to meet these demands.”

Coltor did not answer. He was thinking, and seemed to be calculating. But it had clearly struck him what a huge opportunity it all meant, even if the treaty came into being subject to these stipulations. He replied:

“Very good. This is something we can discuss. I am in the happy position of being able to make certain concessions.”

“We thank Mr Coltor in advance, and most warmly, for these concessions,” said the King. “But this is still minor; very minor.”

“Hear, hear,” chimed Baudrieu and Honoré. They had been thinking they were going to get nothing from this wonderful outcome.

“Your Highness is clearly thinking,” said St Germain, “that it is hardly possible either to win your country back, or to govern it, without money, and our little royal household in the course of our residence abroad … ”

“Forgive me, my dear Chief Courtier, but that is not among my concerns. There are matters at stake here of far greater importance than questions of money. For example, that the treaty, without reservation or precondition, must be subordinate to the principle of national self-determination. It might be beneficial from the economic point of view, but from the moral standpoint, and that of national pride, it is impossible. An ancestral kingdom, a living monarchy, cannot be made the plaything of a stockmarket company. You would need to amend the treaty to allow for a regular monitoring body, composed of Alturian statesmen and representatives of the people, to exercise a veto should the Concern exceed its powers, and to be responsible for its general working to the Alturian Parliament.”

“Hear, hear,” the Major chipped in now.

“I find it a little strange,” said Coltor, “that we have talked so much about the people and their rights. This is a matter for His Highness on the one hand, and the Concern on the other. In my opinion, the people are a secondary consideration.”

The King raised his voice:

“Mr Coltor, you are wrong. Profoundly wrong. They are the primary consideration. If you really want to know … that’s why … ”

He was going to say, “why I didn’t hold on to the crown. Because I did not know how to help myself, and I had no wish to sell my people into servitude; and, caught between two impossible situations, I chose a third and ran away”.

But instead he remained silent. St Germain had meanwhile intervened:

“ … and that is why, recognising His Highness’ generous and benevolent nature, we have proposed these amendments.”

“Excuse me,” said Coltor, “this insistence on a monitoring body raises one or two difficulties. You cannot subject the accounts and general running of a business enterprise to political control. Business is business, Your Highness, and I can’t have people poking their noses in. If people had ever stuck their noses into my companies I wouldn’t be the Coltor I am today. I’d be a greengrocer in one of the smaller towns in Norlandia.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” the King retorted. “But I am obliged to state, with the greatest possible emphasis, that I absolutely insist on such control in all circumstances.”

“In that case would you kindly allow me a few days to consider the matter, while we move on to discuss the other details?”

“The most I can allow you for reflection is fifteen minutes. Until you accept my terms, I have nothing more to discuss.”

“Of course we can only indulge His Highness if … ” St Germain began, in his smoothly insidious way. But the King interposed sharply:

“Count, you will refrain from interrupting.”

St Germain lapsed into silent astonishment.

“I am not in the habit of having my words cut short. I am doing the talking now.”

He spoke in a quiet, determined voice, standing with one hand resting on the table, in the pose of Louis XIV.

“Splendid!” St Germain whispered to Mawiras-Tendal. “A king to the manner born!”

“I now suspend this meeting. I shall withdraw with my aide-de-camp, to give Mr Coltor time to consider. Count St Germain, you will be so good as to inform me when he has come to his decision.”

With that he strode rapidly and resolutely out of the hall, with Mawiras-Tendal following in his wake.

“So, what do you make of that, my Milán?” he asked, once they had reached one of the more distant rooms and sat down. “What have you to say about these surprising developments?”

“Say, Your Highness? I am barely capable of speech. I didn’t understand a word of any of it.”

“I told you I would trust to the spur of the moment. At first I just wanted to get rid of Coltor. But when St Germain began to suggest we should do something for the Alturian poor, it suddenly hit me: now was my chance to lay down conditions that Coltor could never accept. So I was able to rescue the situation without having to expose St Germain’s people. The only thing I don’t understand, is what put it into St Germain’s head to start talking about the poor — the very people, of course, who should have been the focus of discussion from the outset — the people my own ministers back home never even thought worth considering.”