The Adventures of Hiram Holliday (26 page)

On the Hauptallee, on both sides of which there were the most wonderful booths, Uncle Hiram kept looking back all the time, and all around, as though he were searching for someone he expected to meet, and once he took Uncle Willi by the arm suddenly and then they both looked back, and quite strangely they all seemed to be walking a little faster, which Peter did not like because he was getting tired. But then Uncle Hiram had said:
'I
think we will all just go to a shooting-gallery and see who is the best shot.' Hurrah, what fun! How Peter loved shooting-galleries. And were they really going to let him shoot ? Now he was glad to hurry, too, and when Hiram turned around again and he looked back also, all he could see was three men walking together a little way behind them.

The shooting-gallery was wonderful, with iron clowns that had targets in their middles, and when you hit the bull's-eye they beat on drums and clashed cymbals, and there were clay-pipes and clay-birds to shoot at, and rabbits that were attached to a wheel that went around, and an egg that was miraculously balanced on an upshooting stream of water, and he was given a gun and allowed to shoot real bullets while Uncle Hiram and Uncle Willi had a brave contest with little shot-guns with two barrels, blazing at cardboard ducks that were pulled up to the ceiling on a string, and when they hit them with the little tiny shot, no bigger than poppy seeds, the ducks would flutter to the ground. And while the two men were shooting, they were talking things that Peter could make neither head nor tail of, such as when Uncle Hiram said:

'We're in for it, Willi.'

And Uncle Willi replied: 'Yes. You are right. Was that why we came here?'

'Yes. It is rough, but it cannot be helped. Who has not eyes cannot see. For God's sake, don't miss.'

At that moment Peter's gun was empty and while the man was reloading it he had turned to see what Heidi was doing, and she was looking very pale and frightened and was reaching for his hand. Perhaps, thought Peter, it was because of those three men who were now coming over to them, each with a hand in his pocket. Something in their faces frightened even Peter, and when one of them said
:'
Yes, that is they
!'
and they came nearer, he crowded to Heidi, but Uncles Hiram and Willi just turned quietly around with their silly little guns in their big hands, and the little guns suddenly went 'peng - pang -peng - pang,' like fire-crackers going off, and then there was the most tremendous excitement, with people screaming and crowds running and trampling, and the three men were yelling and spinning around, half-doubled up, tearing at their eyes with their hands, and there was even some blood, Peter saw it on their faces, and Willi and Hiram at first seemed to be helping the three men until the crowd grew bigger, and then all of a sudden they were out of the pushing and yelling and turmoil, in the middle of things, and came back and took him and Heidi by the hand, and they all slipped behind the shooting-gallery booth and went through some bushes and across a lawn, where they all got into one of the tiny cars of a miniature train pulled by a little locomotive no bigger than a St Bernard dog, but perfect in every detail, that was just starting out for a trip around the Prater, and the locomotive went 'Hooo hoooo, ding, ding, ding, ding,' and off it went chuffing just like a real train, and when it got to the other end of the Prater, they got out at one of the exits and all went into a taxi-cab. Hui! What fun and excitement there was for a boy when Uncle Hiram was
around....

How Hiram Holliday Met the Ancestors of the Princess Heidi

On Sunday night, Vienna goes to bed early. By half-past ten the streets were almost deserted. It was cold and there was a chilling drizzle falling out of a fog that hung down over the house-tops and spun a halo around the street lights. Two men, a girl, and a small boy came from the more brightly lighted Karntner Strasse, the Broadway of Vienna, through the short Schwangasse and crossed hurriedly to the west side of the darkened Neumarkt, skirting the lovely Donner Fountain. As they went a military car with four officers riding in it came crashing out of the Schwangasse and caught them in its headlights for an instant.

‘
Steady
...
steady
..
.* said Hiram. He could feel Heidi's arm trembling under his hand. They were wet, cold and hungry. They had not eaten, and dared not go into any restaurant or store. They had heard the radio on the street cry out that their arrest was wanted - two men, a girl and a boy. They had had to abandon cabs. There had been another narrow escape when they brazened the Karntner Strasse. Hiram's luck ontakingto crowded, frequented places was running out. It was Heidi who had
saved
them, by breaking
suddenly
into
nasal,
high-pitched French scolding Peter shrilly, and when the startled boy burst into tears, and replied in French:
'Mais
,
je nais rien fait
..
they were passed by as tourists.

In the light of the car-lamps, the Baron suddenly gave a little tipsy skip, faced sideways, teetering precariously on the kerb and raised his arm in the Nazi salute. There was a burst of contemptuous laughter, and the iron car rolled on past.

'It's here,' said Heidi. They were in front of the plain, austere white facade of the baroque Kapuziner Kirche. Heidi counted two doors from the closed entrance of the church. There was an iron portal there under an arch.

'Are you sure
?'
said Hiram Holliday. For the first time, his voice was strained and anxious.

'Oh, yes
...
yes
..
I must be,' breathed Heidi.

Hiram rapped sharply on the iron door with the edge of a coin held in his fist so that the knock rang unmistakably. He counted many seconds before there was an answer. It came in a deep, sonorous voice, and it sounded muffled and hollow as though caverns lay behind the iron barrier. 'Who is there
?'

Hiram Holliday spoke rapidly, as loudly as he dared. 'In God's name let us in. It is the Duke Peter of Styria, and the Princess Furstenhof.'

There was a moment of pause, and then the voice boomed like a muffled bell from behind the door: 'We do not know you.'

' Verdammt
!
' snapped the Baron. 'Open the door, I tell you. I am Willi Franz von Salvator. The Duke and the Princess are in great danger....'

Again the voice tolled the words that sounded like the ringing of the doomsday bell
:'
We - do - not - know - you.'

Cars were passing. Any moment, one of them might stop, men would pile out reaching for
them....
Hiram was white and shaking with rage and helpless exasperation.

'Wait....
Oh, wait,' Heidi whispered....
'I
remember
now. From when I was a little g
irl. The ritual of the Hapsburg
dead when they seek entrance he
re for their eternal rest. Wait
'

She rapped on the iron door with her knuckles. Hiram thought that this time they would no longer answer, it took so long. But again the question came: 'Who is there ?'

And Heidi answered: 'Four humble Christian souls who are weary and seek rest and sanctuary....'

A bolt shot with a sharp ' Spang!' Slowly the great iron door swung open. A huge, brown-robed monk stood framed in a passage-way. His full beard came almost to his waist and his eyes glittered in the light of a taper he held aloft. For a moment he contemplated them. Then he spoke, but this time gently.

'Leave behind all earthly titles, ye who enter here. Come in. You are welcome, my children.'

They poured into the passage-way and heard the monk close and bolt the door behind them and, too, they heard a car pass with a siren wailing, but the sound of its rising cry was dampened now, as though it came from another world.

There was a long flight of stone steps, downward, at the end of the passage. The monk lighted them down, marching ahead with the smoking taper. There was another corridor at the bottom of the steps and then another shorter flight. It led them into a plain, white marble vault, the walls faced with Carrara. Candles burned in wall-brackets. Four bronze sarcophagi stood in the vault. Hiram could see that other vaults opened out from the one they were in. It was a place of sombre grandeur.

' Where are we ?' he asked.

The monk smiled. He had wonder
ful white teeth. 'You are in
the Kapuz
iner Graft, the burial place of
the House of Haps-burg.'

And then Hiram knew why Heidi had come there. After the narrow escape on the Karntner
Strasse he had said savagely: 'Ci
vilization! Damn! If this were in the Middle Ages, we could at least find sanctuary,' and Heidi had said suddenly: 'Yes
...
yes....
Sanctuary. I think I know where. Come with me.'

And so she had brought the little Duke Peter home to the shelter of his ancestors.

The Baron was outlining their story rapidly to the monk whose name was Brother Leopold and who listened gravely until Salvator had finished. Then he said: 'Those things have not touched us yet. We live with the dead. You may remain here for the night. You will be safe. Come, let us go above, where you shall eat and dry your clothes. In the morning we will determine what is to be done.'

Hiram suddenly noticed that Heidi and the boy were no longer with them.

'Peter The Princess! Where are they ?' he said.

Brother Leopold glanced in the direction of the large vault behind them. He said: 'They went in there.'

Hiram looked. Only a single candle burned in the chamber. He went over to Brother Leopold and indicated the taper in his hand. 'May I
?'
he said. Then, holding the light high over his head, he turned and descended the step into the grotto. He had advanced no more than a few yards when he stopped. For he saw there a sight that he was never to forget as long as he lived.

The vault was domed, and in the waxing and waning yellow light of the fluttering paper, Hiram saw that the ceiling was painted with a Biblical scene. In the centre, slightly raised on a stone dais, stood a great bronze double sarcophagus. On the cover were two figures in bronze, half-reclining, crowned and sceptred, their hands folded, the fingers pointing to heaven, and Hiram knew that they were the effigies of Maria Theresa, Austria's greatest queen, and her husband, Francis of Lorraine.

And the light of his flickering taper showed Hiram, too, that at the foot of the great Royal bronze coffin there knelt the Princess Heidi and the Duke Peter.

They were kneeling there, silent, in the ancient classic attitude of prayer, palms together like the figures of the tomb, their heads bowed over them, and the flame of the burning wax showed the yellow, ruffled hair of the boy and the chestnut, dark-dyed coils of Heidi's braids. The hood of her cape was thrown slightly back and its folds draped her like the bronze folds of the Royal robes on the cover of the great sarcophagus. Heidi's lips were moving silently. And with a cold, thrilling chill, as though an icy wind had blown through the grotto, Hiram Holliday suddenly realized that the living blood of the mouldered great in their metal tomb coursed through the veins of the two children who knelt at their feet to make their prayer.

He stood there, plain Hiram Holliday, holding his taper aloft and gazing down upon them. Who was he, and who were they ? Duke and Princess Royal, seed
and fruit of the ancient house
of Hapsburg, a boy and a lovely girl, and about them the dust of the men and the women, and their children, too, who had ruled in Europe for six hundred years. And Hiram Holliday, ex-chair-holder of the copy-desk of the
New York Sentinel,
foreign correspondent and would be king-maker.

Six hundred years and the bones in every leaden or bronzed coffin in the great burial grotto stood between this girl and himself. He thought suddenly of the line attributed to Maximilian the First, the greatest of Hapsburg princes who ruled all Central Europe: 'Austria does not make war. She marries.' For nearly three hundred years these Hapsburgs had ruled Germany as well as Austria. Salvator had been right. The wheel had turned. It would turn again. What right had fifty years to say that the day of Royalty and pomp was done, fifty against so many thousands ?
...
Who could say that this boy would not some day wear the Hapsburg crown
...
if
...
Ah, if!
King-maker
...
kin
g-maker Would there be any then
to say that years ago an American, named Hiram Holliday, had saved King Peter from the Germans and brought him safely out of the country ? What was the fate of the king-makers ?
Ingratitude, oblivion Who remembered them ?