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Updated: June 1, 2025
"We will find a place for you," the elder man said, "and if you are so anxious, you may sleep across his threshold when we spend the night at a hotel." "I will not sleep!" said Lazarus. "I will watch. Suppose there should be demons of Maranovitch loose and infuriated in Europe? Who knows!" "The Maranovitch and Iarovitch who have not already sworn allegiance to King Ivor are dead on battlefields.
"Ivor Fedorovitch. King Ivor he ought to be. And the people would obey him, and the good days would come again." "It is five hundred years since Ivor Fedorovitch left the good monks." Loristan still spoke softly. "But, Father," Marco protested, "even The Rat said what you said that he was too young to be able to come back while the Maranovitch were in power.
He had drawn on the flagstones a map of Samavia which Marco saw was actually correct, and he had made a rough sketch of Melzarr and the battle which had had such disastrous results. "The Maranovitch had possession of Melzarr," he explained with feverish eagerness. "And the Iarovitch attacked them from here," pointing with his finger. "That was a mistake.
The Rat had listened with burning eyes. He had sat biting his finger-nails, as was a trick of his when he was excited or angry. "Tell you what!" he exclaimed suddenly. "This was what happened. It was some of the Maranovitch fellows that tried to kill him. They meant to kill his father and make their own man king, and they knew the people wouldn't stand it if young Ivor was alive.
First one dynasty rules, and then the other gets in when it has killed somebody as it killed King Maran," Marco answered without hesitation. "What was the name of the dynasty that ruled before they began fighting? The first Maranovitch assassinated the last of them," The Rat asked him. "The Fedorovitch," said Marco. "The last one was a bad king."
The battle-cry of his name had ended every battle. Swords fell from hands because swords were not needed. The Iarovitch fled in terror and dismay; the Maranovitch were nowhere to be found. Between night and morning, as the newsboy had said, the standard of Ivor was raised and waved from palace and citadel alike.
The Rat heard it first and dashed to the front door. As he opened it a newsboy running by shouted at the topmost power of his lungs the news he had to sell: "Assassination of King Michael Maranovitch by his own soldiers! Assassination of the Maranovitch! Extra! Extra! Extra!" When The Rat returned with a newspaper, Lazarus interposed between him and Marco with great and respectful ceremony.
"He was called to Samavia," Marco said, and the thought sent his blood rushing through his veins. "He has gone to Samavia!" Lazarus drew his hand roughly across his eyes and his voice shook and sounded hoarse. "There has been great disaffection in the camps of the Maranovitch," he said. "The remnant of the army has gone mad. Sir, silence is still the order, but who knows who knows? God alone."
"If the Secret Party rises suddenly now, it can take Melzarr almost without a blow. It can sweep through the country and disarm both armies. They're weakened they're half starved they're bleeding to death; they want to be disarmed. Only the Iarovitch and the Maranovitch keep on with the struggle because each is fighting for the power to tax the people and make slaves of them.
"Then, ten to one, he's a sort of gentleman," said The Rat. Then quite suddenly he threw another question at him. "What's the name of the other Samavian party?" "The Maranovitch. The Maranovitch and the Iarovitch have been fighting with each other for five hundred years.
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