SEND HIM VICTORIOUS - A Royal Thriller - Chapter 3, part 3
What if the Army entered the houses of Parliament and forced Britain to accept a new regime?
King Alfred II reigns over Great Britain.
Frustrated by the lack of real power of the modern monarchy, the King seizes back the power once wielded by his ancient ancestors.
But the world does not want to let him keep it...
In a history where Queen Elizabeth II never came to the throne, the British Royal Family turned out very differently.
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CHAPTER THREE - Rule (part 3 of 5)
“Very good, Your Highness,” Roberts said, making for the door.
“Oh, and Dickie,” the Prince said to the departing Captain. “We must spend some time together, if and when there’s an opportunity to socialise. A cup of tea, a glass of wine, a lager, if that’s your poison.”
Roberts looked thoughtful. “I’ll look forward to it. Good afternoon, Your Highness.”
When the Captain left, Adrian put his hands in his pockets and moved about the room, as if examining the possibilities. He ran a finger across the top of the writing desk, opened and closed some cupboards and wardrobes, went into the en-suite and tried the taps, glanced in the mirror, took off his jacket and hung it on a hook.
He opened one of his bags and removed a sheaf of papers which he took to the desk.
Putting on a pair of reading glasses, the Prince sat down, leaned back, and attempted to absorb the print on the pages.
“There is STILL ample time… There is still AMPLE time… There is still ample time to make THIS century the one where the United Kingdom stands truly united. One where love speaks louder than greed, and where Britain is its best voice.”
He stood in front of the mirror, putting on an air, assuming a magisterial stance, examining his bearing.
The HMS Dominance arrived in Leith, the Port of Edinburgh, to waiting throngs of spectators and press.
The crowds greeted the Prince with a mix of enthusiastic cheers and two-fingered salutes, the latter greeting being predominant. In the general rush of sound the cheers could not be distinguished from the jeers.
A mixture of military and civilian security personnel prepared the way as Adrian began to move through the crowd, while others watched his back.
His security detachment led him forward and the Prince became aware that he was being led to a stage equipped with a podium and microphone, with Union and Scottish flags flying at the sides.
Minders hemmed the Prince in right and left. He spoke to the one nearest him. “What’s all this about, David?”
“We only know that we’re supposed to get you to that stage safely. Weren’t you going to make a speech or something, Your Highness?” David said.
“I didn’t– I mean, I couldn’t–” the Prince spluttered and stumbled.
David spoke into a walkie-talkie that he held in his free hand, speaking code about packages and deliveries.
Escorting the Prince onto the stage and to the microphone, David retreated a few steps to stand guard behind him.
The flashes of cameras, of no effect in the daylight, confused the field of view as he took in the extensive crowd. He uselessly put his hands in his pockets, probing them in turn.
As he allowed his eyes to wander over the entire breadth of the crowd, it began to quiet down in readiness for whatever he had to say.
“I didn’t expect–” the Prince started, continuing to take stock of the crowd. “I didn’t know–” He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.
“I never expected,” the Prince said, “that there would be so many of you here to greet me. I’m flattered. I’m here today–” He took out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. He licked his lips. “Well, that much you know already.” He waited out the muted laughter. “But why am I here today?
“Scotland has always been a second home for my family and I. My father and mother gave me most of my best memories here. The Scots are not a barbarian tribe thankfully separated from me by Hadrian’s Wall. Nor are you my cousins north of the border.
“You are, in fact, my brothers and sisters.”
A roar rose from the crowd, though whether of pleasure or rage was impossible to distinguish.
“It is relatively early in the century. Early enough to make this the century of Great Britain. There is still ample time to make this century the one where the United Kingdom stands truly united. One where love speaks louder than greed, and where Britain is its best voice.”
The speech continued for several more minutes, the crowd’s reaction always ambivalent, though those nearest the platform appeared to be on the Prince’s side.
He continued his improvised speech, laying the emotion on thickly, appearing at times to gain the favour of some and lose the favour of others. After several minutes Adrian acknowledged the crowd’s kindness and attention, offered a royal wave, and departed with his minders.
“How did you think that went, David?” The Prince mopped his brow as he walked.
“I don’t know, Your Highness. Pretty well, I think. I don’t really know much about politics myself. But the crowd seemed to like you.”
“You think so?” The Prince frowned. “I didn’t get that impression.”
“Oh, definitely. These are Scots, remember. They’re not like us.”
The Prince affected a worried half-smile.
David and the Prince arrived at the waiting limousine. Entering, they were spirited away with an entourage of police motorcycles and cars.
Crowds greeted the motorcade as it made its way along Princes Street, normally thronged with shoppers but now spectators. They turned, passing Waverley Station on their way to the Royal Mile.
Turning left, the Prince’s limousine was at one point pummelled by eggs and tomatoes. David raised a sympathetic hand. “Don’t worry about them, Your Highness. They’re just–”
“It’s all right, David,” Adrian said, raising a hand. “This has happened to me before – numerous times. Not everyone likes me.”
The retinue came to a stop at the front entrance of the Scottish Parliament. The bodyguards, minders, and other staff scrambled to prepare the Prince’s way.
When the driver opened the door the Prince stepped out into the sunlight. Everyone stood in ranks, marking out the path from the limousine to the front entrance of the melange of architectural quirks which was the Parliament building.
“I can never imagine any real work being done in this place,” the Prince said, surveying the structure. “I mean it is rather weird. As if the architects took a long holiday and let Salvador Dali’s admirers build it. I can’t imagine anyone getting their heads down in there. Then again, maybe it’s the best way to avoid having to look at the thing.”
David shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I’ve always kind of liked the place myself. At least it’s different.”
“Indeed it is that.”
The front door was held open and the Prince disappeared inside, acknowledging no-one as he passed.
Located at the front of the building, the debating chamber took very little time to reach. The Ministers of the Scottish Parliament, pausing their governmental business, stood at their seats as the Prince entered – with a few exceptions. As he walked the distance from the entrance door to the speaker’s platform, a number of the other ministers sat down in solidarity with their protesting colleagues. By the time the Prince took his seat at the back of the stage, at least two thirds of the house were sitting.
While introductions were being said for him, the Prince removed the printed version of his speech from his inside pocket, looking over it.
“… The Prince of Wales.” The speaker turned from the assembly to the Prince and held out a welcoming arm.
Folding the speech away in his pocket, Adrian stood up and took the podium.
“Thank you, Presiding Officer. Ladies and gentlemen, I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve asked you all here.” He looked at the glass teleprompter which stood in front of him and to his left. “It is not to ask for money.” He paused for a moment but only a few laughed.
“I have, in point of fact, come to ask for your support. And, more generally, for Scotland’s support. As you know, His Majesty the King, my father, has taken the reins of government upon himself. This he has done for the good of all – and at great personal cost to himself, I would add. It would have been easier for him at his stage in life to retire, to spend time with his family and the dogs, and leave the reins of power where they were – or perhaps transfer them to the next in line to the throne. Which” – the Prince put a hand on his chest and assumed a bashful stance – “would be me. Oh dear.”
Again the Prince waited a moment, to little response.