Chapter Nineteen. Greenmantle

Greenmantle

by John Buchan

Peter scarcely looked up from his breakfast.

'I'm willing, Dick,' he said. 'But you mustn't ask me to be
friends with Stumm. He makes my stomach cold, that one.'

For the first time he had stopped calling me 'Cornelis'. The
day of make-believe was over for all of us.

'Not to be friends with him,' I said, 'but to bust him and all
his kind.'

'Then I'm ready,' said Peter cheerfully. 'What is it?'

I spread out the maps on the divan. There was no light in the
place but Blenkiron's electric torch, for Hussin had put out the
lantern. Peter got his nose into the things at once, for his
intelligence work in the Boer War had made him handy with maps. It
didn't want much telling from me to explain to him the importance of
the one I had looted.

'That news is worth many a million pounds,' said he, wrinkling
his brows, and scratching delicately the tip of his left ear. It was
a way he had when he was startled.

'How can we get it to our friends?'

Peter cogitated. 'There is but one way. A man must take it.
Once, I remember, when we fought the Matabele it was necessary to
find out whether the chief Makapan was living. Some said he had
died, others that he'd gone over the Portuguese border, but I
believed he lived. No native could tell us, and since his kraal was
well defended no runner could get through. So it was necessary to
send a man.'

Peter lifted up his head and laughed. 'The man found the chief
Makapan. He was very much alive, and made good shooting with a
shot-gun. But the man brought the chief Makapan out of his kraal and
handed him over to the Mounted Police. You remember Captain Arcoll,
Dick - Jim Arcoll? Well, Jim laughed so much that he broke open a
wound in his head, and had to have a doctor.'

'You were that man, Peter,' I said.

'Ja. I was the man. There are more ways of getting into kraals
than there are ways of keeping people out.'

'Will you take this chance?'

'For certain, Dick. I am getting stiff with doing nothing, and
if I sit in houses much longer I shall grow old. A man bet me five
pounds on the ship that I could not get through a trench-line, and if
there had been a trench-line handy I would have taken him on. I will
be very happy, Dick, but I do not say I will succeed. It is new
country to me, and I will be hurried, and hurry makes bad
stalking.'

I showed him what I thought the likeliest place - in the spurs
of the Palantuken mountains. Peter's way of doing things was all his
own. He scraped earth and plaster out of a corner and sat down to
make a little model of the landscape on the table, following the
contours of the map. He did it extraordinarily neatly, for, like all
great hunters, he was as deft as a weaver bird. He puzzled over it
for a long time, and conned the map till he must have got it by
heart. Then he took his field-glasses - a very good single Zeiss
which was part of the spoils from Rasta's motor-car - and announced
that he was going to follow my example and get on to the house-top.
Presently his legs disappeared through the trap, and Blenkiron and I
were left to our reflections.

Peter must have found something uncommon interesting, for he
stayed on the roof the better part of the day. It was a dull job for
us, since there was no light, and Blenkiron had not even the
consolation of a game of Patience. But for all that he was in good
spirits, for he had had no dyspepsia since we left Constantinople,
and announced that he believed he was at last getting even with his
darned duodenum. As for me I was pretty restless, for I could not
imagine what was detaining Sandy. It was clear that our presence
must have been kept secret from Hilda von Einem, for she was a pal of
Stumm's, and he must by now have blown the gaff on Peter and me. How
long could this secrecy last, I asked myself. We had now no sort of
protection in the whole outfit. Rasta and the Turks wanted our
blood: so did Stumm and the Germans; and once the lady found we were
deceiving her she would want it most of all. Our only hope was Sandy,
and he gave no sign of his existence. I began to fear that with him,
too, things had miscarried.

And yet I wasn't really depressed, only impatient. I could
never again get back to the beastly stagnation of that Constantinople
week. The guns kept me cheerful. There was the devil of a
bombardment all day, and the thought that our Allies were thundering
there half a dozen miles off gave me a perfectly groundless hope. If
they burst through the defence Hilda von Einem and her prophet and
all our enemies would be overwhelmed in the deluge. And that blessed
chance depended very much on old Peter, now brooding like a pigeon on
the house-tops.

It was not till the late afternoon that Hussin appeared again.
He took no notice of Peter's absence, but lit a lantern and set it on
the table. Then he went to the door and waited. Presently a light
step fell on the stairs, and Hussin drew back to let someone enter.
He promptly departed and I heard the key turn in the lock behind
him.

Sandy stood there, but a new Sandy who made Blenkiron and me
jump to our feet. The pelts and skin-cap had gone, and he wore
instead a long linen tunic clasped at the waist by a broad girdle. A
strange green turban adorned his head, and as he pushed it back I saw
that his hair had been shaved. He looked like some acolyte - a weary
acolyte, for there was no spring in his walk or nerve in his
carriage. He dropped numbly on the divan and laid his head in his
hands. The lantern showed his haggard eyes with dark lines beneath
them.

'Good God, old man, have you been sick?' I cried.

'Not sick,' he said hoarsely. 'My body is right enough, but the
last few days I have been living in hell.'

Blenkiron nodded sympathetically. That was how he himself would
have described the company of the lady.

I marched across to him and gripped both his wrists.

'Look at me,' I said, 'straight in the eyes.'

His eyes were like a sleep-walker's, unwinking, unseeing.
'Great heavens, man, you've been drugged!' I said.

'Drugged,' he cried, with a weary laugh. 'Yes, I have been
drugged, but not by any physic. No one has been doctoring my food.
But you can't go through hell without getting your eyes red-hot.'

I kept my grip on his wrists. 'Take your time, old chap, and
tell us about it. Blenkiron and I are here, and old Peter's on the
roof not far off. We'll look after you.'

'It does me good to hear your voice, Dick,' he said. 'It
reminds me of clean, honest things.' 'They'll come back, never fear.
We're at the last lap now. One more spurt and it's over. You've got
to tell me what the new snag is. Is it that woman?'

He shivered like a frightened colt. 'Woman!' he cried. 'Does a
woman drag a man through the nether-pit? She's a she-devil. Oh, it
isn't madness that's wrong with her. She's as sane as you and as
cool as Blenkiron. Her life is an infernal game of chess, and she
plays with souls for pawns. She is evil - evil - evil.' And once
more he buried his head in his hands.

It was Blenkiron who brought sense into this hectic atmosphere.
His slow, beloved drawl was an antiseptic against nerves.

'Say, boy,' he said, 'I feel just like you about the lady. But
our job is not to investigate her character. Her Maker will do that
good and sure some day. We've got to figure how to circumvent her,
and for that you've got to tell us what exactly's been occurring
since we parted company.'

Sandy pulled himself together with a great effort.

'Greenmantle died that night I saw you. We buried him secretly
by her order in the garden of the villa. Then came the trouble about
his successor ... The four Ministers would be no party to a swindle.
They were honest men, and vowed that their task now was to make a
tomb for their master and pray for the rest of their days at his
shrine. They were as immovable as a granite hill and she knew it.
... Then they, too, died.'

'Murdered?' I gasped.

'Murdered ... all four in one morning. I do not know how, but
I helped to bury them. Oh, she had Germans and Kurds to do her foul
work, but their hands were clean compared to hers. Pity me, Dick,
for I have seen honesty and virtue put to the shambles and have
abetted the deed when it was done. It will haunt me to my dying
day.'

I did not stop to console him, for my mind was on fire with his
news.

'Then the prophet is gone, and the humbug is over,' I cried.

'The prophet still lives. She has found a successor.'

He stood up in his linen tunic.

'Why do I wear these clothes? Because I am Greenmantle. I am
the Kaaba-i-hurriyeh for all Islam. In three days' time I will
reveal myself to my people and wear on my breast the green ephod of
the prophet.'

He broke off with an hysterical laugh. 'Only you see, I won't.
I will cut my throat first.'

'Cheer up!' said Blenkiron soothingly. 'We'll find some
prettier way than that.'

'There is no way,' he said; 'no way but death. We're done for,
all of us. Hussin got you out of Stumm's clutches, but you're in
danger every moment. At the best you have three days, and then you,
too, will be dead.'

I had no words to reply. This change in the bold and
unshakeable Sandy took my breath away.

'She made me her accomplice,' he went on. 'I should have killed
her on the graves of those innocent men. But instead I did all she
asked and joined in her game ... She was very candid, you know ...
She cares no more than Enver for the faith of Islam. She can laugh
at it. But she has her own dreams, and they consume her as a saint
is consumed by his devotion. She has told me them, and if the day in
the garden was hell, the days since have been the innermost fires of
Tophet. I think - it is horrible to say it - that she has got some
kind of crazy liking for me. When we have reclaimed the East I am to
be by her side when she rides on her milk-white horse into Jerusalem
... And there have been moments - only moments, I swear to God -
when I have been fired myself by her madness ...'

Sandy's figure seemed to shrink and his voice grew shrill and
wild. It was too much for Blenkiron. He indulged in a torrent of
blasphemy such as I believe had never before passed his lips.

'I'm blessed if I'll listen to this God-darned stuff. It isn't
delicate. You get busy, Major, and pump some sense into your
afflicted friend.'

I was beginning to see what had happened. Sandy was a man of
genius - as much as anybody I ever struck - but he had the defects of
such high-strung, fanciful souls. He would take more than mortal
risks, and you couldn't scare him by any ordinary terror. But let
his old conscience get cross-eyed, let him find himself in some
situation which in his eyes involved his honour, and he might go
stark crazy. The woman, who roused in me and Blenkiron only hatred,
could catch his imagination and stir in him - for the moment only -
an unwilling response. And then came bitter and morbid repentance,
and the last desperation.

It was no time to mince matters. 'Sandy, you old fool,' I
cried, 'be thankful you have friends to keep you from playing the
fool. You saved my life at Loos, and I'm jolly well going to get you
through this show. I'm bossing the outfit now, and for all your
confounded prophetic manners, you've got to take your orders from me.
You aren't going to reveal yourself to your people, and still less
are you going to cut your throat. Greenmantle will avenge the murder
of his ministers, and make that bedlamite woman sorry she was born.
We're going to get clear away, and inside of a week we'll be having
tea with the Grand Duke Nicholas.' I wasn't bluffing. Puzzled as I
was about ways and means I had still the blind belief that we should
win out. And as I spoke two legs dangled through the trap and a
dusty and blinking Peter descended in our midst.

I took the maps from him and spread them on the table.

'First, you must know that we've had an almighty piece of luck.
Last night Hussin took us for a walk over the roofs of Erzerum, and
by the blessing of Providence I got into Stumm's room, and bagged his
staff map ... Look there ... d'you see his notes? That's the
danger-point of the whole defence. Once the Russians get that fort,
Kara Gubek, they've turned the main position. And it can be got;
Stumm knows it can; for these two adjacent hills are not held ... It
looks a mad enterprise on paper, but Stumm knows that it is possible
enough. The question is: Will the Russians guess that? I say no,
not unless someone tells them. Therefore, by hook or by crook, we've
got to get that information through to them.'

Sandy's interest in ordinary things was beginning to flicker up
again. He studied the map and began to measure distances.

'Peter's going to have a try for it. He thinks there's a
sporting chance of his getting through the lines. If he does - if he
gets this map to the Grand Duke's staff - then Stumm's goose is
cooked. In three days the Cossacks will be in the streets of
Erzerum.'

'What are the chances?' Sandy asked.

I glanced at Peter. 'We're hard-bitten fellows and can face the
truth. I think the chances against success are about five to
one.'

'Two to one,' said Peter modestly. 'Not worse than that. I
don't think you're fair to me, Dick, my old friend.'

I looked at that lean, tight figure and the gentle, resolute
face, and I changed my mind. 'I'm hanged if I think there are any
odds,' I said. 'With anybody else it would want a miracle, but with
Peter I believe the chances are level.'

'Two to one,' Peter persisted. 'If it was evens I wouldn't be
interested.'

'Let me go,' Sandy cried. 'I talk the lingo, and can pass as a
Turk, and I'm a million times likelier to get through. For God's
sake, Dick, let me go.'

'Not you. You're wanted here. If you disappear the whole
show's busted too soon, and the three of us left behind will be
strung up before morning ... No, my son. You're going to escape,
but it will be in company with Blenkiron and me. We've got to blow
the whole Greenmantle business so high that the bits of it will never
come to earth again ... First, tell me how many of your fellows will
stick by you? I mean the Companions.' 'The whole half-dozen. They
are very worried already about what has happened. She made me sound
them in her presence, and they were quite ready to accept me as
Greenmantle's successor. But they have their suspicions about what
happened at the villa, and they've no love for the woman ... They'd
follow me through hell if I bade them, but they would rather it was
my own show.'

'That's all right,' I cried. 'It is the one thing I've been
doubtful about. Now observe this map. Erzerum isn't invested by a
long chalk. The Russians are round it in a broad half-moon. That
means that all the west, south-west, and north-west is open and
undefended by trench lines. There are flanks far away to the north
and south in the hills which can be turned, and once we get round a
flank there's nothing between us and our friends ... I've figured
out our road,' and I traced it on the map. 'If we can make that big
circuit to the west and get over that pass unobserved we're bound to
strike a Russian column the next day. It'll be a rough road, but I
fancy we've all ridden as bad in our time. But one thing we must
have, and that's horses. Can we and your six ruffians slip off in
the darkness on the best beasts in this township? If you can manage
that, we'll do the trick.'

Sandy sat down and pondered. Thank heaven, he was thinking now
of action and not of his own conscience.

'It must be done,' he said at last, 'but it won't be easy.
Hussin's a great fellow, but as you know well, Dick, horses right up
at the battle-front are not easy to come by. Tomorrow I've got some
kind of infernal fast to observe, and the next day that woman will be
coaching me for my part. We'll have to give Hussin time ... I wish
to heaven it could be tonight.' He was silent again for a bit, and
then he said: 'I believe the best time would be the third night, the
eve of the Revelation. She's bound to leave me alone that night.'

'Right-o,' I said. 'It won't be much fun sitting waiting in
this cold sepulchre; but we must keep our heads and risk nothing by
being in a hurry. Besides, if Peter wins through, the Turk will be a
busy man by the day after tomorrow.'

The key turned in the door and Hussin stole in like a shade. It
was the signal for Sandy to leave.

'You fellows have given me a new lease of life,' he said. 'I've
got a plan now, and I can set my teeth and stick it out.'

He went up to Peter and gripped his hand. 'Good luck. You're
the bravest man I've ever met, and I've seen a few.' Then he turned
abruptly and went out, followed by an exhortation from Blenkiron to
'Get busy about the quadrupeds.'

Then we set about equipping Peter for his crusade. It was a
simple job, for we were not rich in properties. His get-up, with his
thick fur-collared greatcoat, was not unlike the ordinary Turkish
officer seen in a dim light. But Peter had no intention of passing
for a Turk, or indeed of giving anybody the chance of seeing him, and
he was more concerned to fit in with the landscape. So he stripped
off the greatcoat and pulled a grey sweater of mine over his jacket,
and put on his head a woollen helmet of the same colour. He had no
need of the map for he had long since got his route by heart, and
what was once fixed in that mind stuck like wax; but I made him take
Stumm's plan and paper, hidden below his shirt. The big difficulty,
I saw, would be getting to the Russians without getting shot,
assuming he passed the Turkish trenches. He could only hope that he
would strike someone with a smattering of English or German. Twice
he ascended to the roof and came back cheerful, for there was promise
of wild weather. Hussin brought in our supper, and Peter made up a
parcel of food. Blenkiron and I had both small flasks of brandy and I
gave him mine.

Then he held out his hand quite simply, like a good child who is
going off to bed. It was too much for Blenkiron. With large tears
rolling down his face he announced that, if we all came through, he
was going to fit him into the softest berth that money could buy. I
don't think he was understood, for old Peter's eyes had now the
faraway absorption of the hunter who has found game. He was thinking
only of his job.

Two legs and a pair of very shabby boots vanished through the
trap, and suddenly I felt utterly lonely and desperately sad. The
guns were beginning to roar again in the east, and in the intervals
came the whistle of the rising storm.