I suppose she would want to slipper me as she used to do
when I was a wee kiddie--in a different way, of course. _May_ 3, 1907. I really could not go on seriously last night. The idea of Aunt Janet
giving me a licking as in the dear old days made me laugh so much that
nothing in the world seemed serious then. Oh, Aunt Janet is all right
whatever comes. That I am sure of, so I needn't worry over it. A good
thing too; there will be plenty to worry about without that. I shall not
check her telling me of her visions, however; I may learn something from
them. For the last four-and-twenty hours I have, whilst awake, been looking
over Aunt Janet's books, of which I brought a wheen down here. Gee
whizz! No wonder the old dear is superstitious, when she is filled up to
the back teeth with that sort of stuff! There may be some truth in some
of those yarns; those who wrote them may believe in them, or some of
them, at all events. But as to coherence or logic, or any sort of
reasonable or instructive deduction, they might as well have been written
by so many hens! These occult book-makers seem to gather only a lot of
bare, bald facts, which they put down in the most uninteresting way
possible. They go by quantity only. One story of the kind, well
examined and with logical comments, would be more convincing to a third
party than a whole hecatomb of them. RUPERT'S JOURNAL--_Continued_. _May_ 4, 1907. There is evidently something up in the country. The mountaineers are
more uneasy than they have been as yet. There is constant going to and
fro amongst them, mostly at night and in the grey of the morning. I
spend many hours in my room in the eastern tower, from which I can watch
the woods, and gather from signs the passing to and fro. But with all
this activity no one has said to me a word on the subject. It is
undoubtedly a disappointment to me. I had hoped that the mountaineers
had come to trust me; that gathering at which they wanted to fire their
guns for me gave me strong hopes. But now it is apparent that they do
not trust me in full--as yet, at all events. Well, I must not complain. It is all only right and just. As yet I have done nothing to prove to
them the love and devotion that I feel to the country. I know that such
individuals as I have met trust me, and I believe like me. But the trust
of a nation is different. That has to be won and tested; he who would
win it must justify, and in a way that only troublous times can allow. No nation will--can--give full meed of honour to a stranger in times of
peace. Why should it? I must not forget that I am here a stranger in
the land, and that to the great mass of people even my name is unknown. Perhaps they will know me better when Rooke comes back with that store of
arms and ammunition that he has bought, and the little warship he has got
from South America. When they see that I hand over the whole lot to the
nation without a string on them, they may begin to believe. In the
meantime all I can do is to wait. It will all come right in time, I have
no doubt. And if it doesn't come right, well, we can only die once! Is that so? What about my Lady of the Shroud? I must not think of that
or of her in this gallery. Love and war are separate, and may not
mix--cannot mix, if it comes to that. I must be wise in the matter; and
if I have got the hump in any degree whatever, must not show it. But one thing is certain: something is up, and it must be the Turks. From what the Vladika said at that meeting they have some intention of an
attack on the Blue Mountains. If that be so, we must be ready; and
perhaps I can help there. The forces must be organized; we must have
some method of communication. In this country, where are neither roads
nor railways nor telegraphs, we must establish a signalling system of
some sort. _That_ I can begin at once. I can make a code, or adapt one
that I have used elsewhere already. I shall rig up a semaphore on the
top of the Castle which can be seen for an enormous distance around. I
shall train a number of men to be facile in signalling. And then, should
need come, I may be able to show the mountaineers that I am fit to live
in their hearts . . . And all this work may prove an anodyne to pain of another kind. It will
help, at any rate, to keep my mind occupied whilst I am waiting for
another visit from my Lady of the Shroud. RUPERT'S JOURNAL--_Continued_. _May_ 18, 1907. The two weeks that have passed have been busy, and may, as time goes on,
prove eventful. I really think they have placed me in a different
position with the Blue Mountaineers--certainly so far as those in this
part of the country are concerned. They are no longer suspicious of
me--which is much; though they have not yet received me into their
confidence. I suppose this will come in time, but I must not try to
hustle them. Already they are willing, so far as I can see, to use me to
their own ends. They accepted the signalling idea very readily, and are
quite willing to drill as much as I like. This can be (and I think is,
in its way) a pleasure to them. They are born soldiers, every man of
them; and practice together is only a realization of their own wishes and
a further development of their powers. I think I can understand the
trend of their thoughts, and what ideas of public policy lie behind them. In all that we have attempted together as yet they are themselves in
absolute power. It rests with them to carry out any ideas I may suggest,
so they do not fear any assumption of power or governance on my part. Thus, so long as they keep secret from me both their ideas of high policy
and their immediate intentions, I am powerless to do them ill, and I
_may_ be of service should occasion arise. Well, all told, this is much. Already they accept me as an individual, not merely one of the mass. I
am pretty sure that they are satisfied of my personal _bona fides_. It
is policy and not mistrust that hedges me in. Well, policy is a matter
of time. They are a splendid people, but if they knew a little more than
they do they would understand that the wisest of all policies is
trust--when it can be given. I must hold myself in check, and never be
betrayed into a harsh thought towards them. Poor souls! with a thousand
years behind them of Turkish aggression, strenuously attempted by both
force and fraud, no wonder they are suspicious. Likewise every other
nation with whom they have ever come in contact--except one, my own--has
deceived or betrayed them. Anyhow, they are fine soldiers, and before
long we shall have an army that cannot be ignored. If I can get so that
they trust me, I shall ask Sir Colin to come out here. He would be a
splendid head for their army. His great military knowledge and tactical
skill would come in well. It makes me glow to think of what an army he
would turn out of this splendid material, and one especially adapted for
the style of fighting which would be necessary in this country.