SEND HIM VICTORIOUS - A Royal Thriller - Chapter 1, part 3
Think Brexit is a shake up? Wait till you see the British New Order! The Golden Age is back with a vengeance.
By way of introduction, this is my latest book which I am serializing for you here on Steemit. You can buy this book on Amazon (clickable here) or any other online bookshop, both electronically and in print, or you can read it free right here.
I am also thinking of recording an audiobook of this title. Please let me know if you would like that.
I look forward to interacting with you. If you have any questions about the story, locations, characters, events, or background, please ask (though I will only answer them if it doesn’t require revealing spoilers!).
This book is the product of years of preparation, research, and writing. I hope you enjoy it!
Read on:
CHAPTER ONE - Overthrow (part 3 of 5)
The General’s men stood behind him, their assault rifles ready.
“Ah, Stewart.” The King looked at the General.
“Your Majesty,” the General said, saluting with a flourish. His men followed suit.
“Lords and ladies, gentlemen,” the King said, “I’m sure many of you know my good friend General Sir Stewart Montgomery. Stewart, I’m having a spot of bother with these two young constables. Remove them.”
“With pleasure, Your Majesty.”
Montgomery turned his head. One of his men said, “Sir!” The young soldier made his way toward the constables, the lords and ladies leaning out of his way under the threat of the weapon he carried.
The unarmed policemen moved away. The soldier cocked his thumb toward the exit. “Come on constables,” he said without making eye contact with the King. “Sorry about these two, Your Majesty.” He escorted the bobbies, moving backward from the King’s immediate presence.
“Kindly remove the Commons as well,” the King said, looking at the General. “They can observe the remainder of these proceedings on the monitors.”
“Your Majesty.” The General turned and indicated the exit with his baton. His men parted to allow the commons to pass. “Gentlemen, ladies, kindly return to the House of Commons.”
The King cleared his throat. “Lords, ladies,” he said, scanning those seated on the benches, “British subjects, and citizens of the world,” now looking at the television cameras. “Until three centuries ago my ancestors ruled this nation under what it pleased them to refer to as the divine right of kings. They made decrees, they ordered building projects, they declared war, they established religion, they practiced diplomacy. All without the need to consult Parliament. All without reference to political correctness. Without worrying about votes. Without concern for public image. They imposed their rule, and it was understood far and wide that the King’s word was law.
“Yes, there were bad kings who abused their power. There were those who fought wars to glorify themselves. There were those who stabbed one another in the back to gain more power.
“But there were also those who did well by their subjects. My namesake, Alfred the Great, championed education, kindness, the individual’s right to property, freedom, and fairness. Queen Elizabeth considered the poor and needy, and was so concerned to rule well that she determined never to marry, thinking it an obstacle to good judgement and a temptation to betrayal. King James safeguarded the translation of the Bible into the common tongue, against the threat of the Catholic nations who collectively believed the great project to be the Devil’s work.
“Consider what has been lost by the transfer of power from the crown to parliament. It takes an age for government building projects to be approved and funded. Politicians are hamstrung by their lust for power and pursuit of votes. If a thing is determined to be politically incorrect, it cannot be done, even if all previous generations found that same thing to be of enormous value.
“It was once the case that every nation aspired to be like us. Even the French looked at Britain with envy. But what has happened? The modern age has reduced Britain to a mere shadow of her former self. Our biggest exports today are actors and second-rate pop-stars. Britain is scarcely recognisable as Great Britain. She is no longer great.”
“This cannot be happening,” the Prince of Wales said, rising from the sofa and walking around the room. “Couldn’t he just have left well alone? What was so wrong with the status quo?” He patted his pockets and drew out a pack of cigarettes.
“You will not smoke in my home,” the Princess said.
Adrian extracted a cigarette from the pack and a lighter from his pocket. “This isn’t what I was raised for. I was just supposed to wave to the people. Open bridges and hospitals, attend premieres. Those things I can handle.”
Frances rang a small bell. “I told you not to smoke in here.”
“But this… this is way above and beyond the call of duty. How long has he been planning it?” The Prince looked at his sister. “Did you know about it?”
The door opened and Bernard entered the room.
“Bernard, would you get my brother an ashtray please?” The Princess took her last bite of toast, while the Prince paced and smoked. Bernard placed an ashtray on the mantel and exited, which Adrian ignored as he let the ashes fall.
Frances daintily licked stickiness from her fingers, and drank the last of her tea. She dabbed her lips with a napkin.
“It’s clear that Father has been planning this for a very long time, and no, I didn’t know anything about it.”
“Well it’s not on.” He gesticulated as he smoked. “It’s just not on. Father can’t just sweep aside centuries of Parliamentary democracy. It’s not possible.”
“Well,” she said, folding her hands in her lap, “at the moment the evidence seems to be to the contrary.”
Adrian opened the door wide, leaning his head and shoulders out. “Bernard!”
The Butler appeared almost immediately. “Yes, Your Highness?”
The Prince handed Bernard his flask. “Refill this.”
“What with, sir?”
The Prince looked incredulous. “Whiskey, of course. Tennessee, preferably.” He pressed the flask into Bernard’s hand.
Bernard looked from Prince to Princess. She nodded to him. “Yes, sir.” Bernard retreated and closed the door behind him.
“Now sit down, Adrian, and be quiet. You’ve already made me miss most of Father’s speech.”
He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, flopped down onto the sofa, and gripped his head in his hands.
“If you are with me,” the King said, fixing his eyes alternately on the lords, the ladies, and the television cameras, “we can bring this nation to a new golden age. Great Britain will again be worthy of the name.”
The King sat down. The Lords’ Chamber was silent.
Baroness Overhill hesitantly stood up, looking at the armed soldiers, and then at the King. “Would it please Your Majesty to field some questions from the floor?”
“Oh, perhaps one or two. But we grow tired,” he said with a half-smile.
The lords and ladies clamoured for attention, standing and raising hands, each trying to stand taller than the others.
“This house recognises Lord Wolf Youngblood, Archbishop of Canterbury.”
All the others sat down.
“Thank you, Mrs Speaker. Your Majesty, with all due respect, I would humbly beg you to consider what this plan will truly mean to your subjects, and to your family. If it succeeds then, yes, it could be very good. However, you are sacrificing a position of safety for one of uncertainty. As we are, we are not perfect – Britain is not perfect. Nevertheless, we are the envy of a great many other countries. Their citizens continue to come to us in droves, looking for a better life and greater security. Our economy is stronger than those of most other European countries.
“I maintain that Britain is great. But if not, at the very least it is” – he paused, glancing at the floor and ceiling – “adequate, especially when compared with Spain, Greece, and any Eastern European country.” The Archbishop looked at the ambassadors and foreign dignitaries seated on the opposite benches. “It is not my intention, of course, to impugn the quality of any other nations, but merely to note the current economic difficulties from which they suffer. Britain suffers from some of these as well. Nevertheless, our economy is one of the stronger ones, at least for now.
“Why not leave well alone? Why risk everything on something that could easily fail?
“Your Majesty, I beg you to reconsider this course of action.”
Well described