Free Coronation by Paul Gallico Page A

raised him to a sitting position and a doctor, kneeling at his side with his little black bag, was shaking his head saying, ‘Alas, there is little we can do for him.’
    The crowd about him suddenly stirred and broke, and Captain Clagg heard cries of ‘Make way! Make way for Her Majesty the Queen!’
    And the next moment the Queen herself in her silver gown, the gold- and diamond-studded crown upon her head, and still clutching her golden sceptre, was kneeling at his side and pillowing his head upon her breast, unmindful of his life’s blood ebbing away through his wound.
    He heard her low, sweet voice throbbing with suppressed emotion, querying, ‘What is the name and rank of this brave man who has yielded up his life for mine?’
    The next moment there was the Duke of Edinburgh bending over him too, saying, ‘Gallant Captain, noble soldier! You have saved my wife; you have saved the Queen; you have saved the nation!’
    Captain Clagg gazed upward into the exquisite eyes of his monarch, from whence a tear fell and splashed upon his cheek. A Queen’s tear! More priceless than any diamond in her crown. ‘I die happy, Your Majesty,’ breathed Captain Clagg.
    A herald in stiff tabard resplendent with scarlet and gold made his way through the crowd and, drawing himself up, announced, ‘Your Majesty! In obedience to your command I have been able to ascertain the following: that brave man who lies dying there is none other than Captain John Clagg, formerly of the Primary School, Little Pudney, Sheffield. His proud parents are William and Violet Clagg. Mr Clagg is connected in an executive capacity with the No. 2 Furnace of the Pudney Steel Works. He also has a grandmother, a Mrs Bonner, who was always predicting that he would come to no good end. How she will rue her words when she hears of his noble sacrifice, for had it not been for his keen eye and quick wit Your Majesty would have been–’
    The herald could proceed no further, for he was overcome with emotion at the contemplation of the terrible tragedy that had been averted.
    The Queen now arose and from her breast she removed the blue riband and diamond star of the Order of the Garter and laid it on Captain Clagg’s form. Then with her golden sceptre she touched his shoulders while she spoke these ringing words, ‘No, by my troth! Plain Captain Clagg no longer. Die if you must, then, gallant soldier, for Elizabeth the Second and your country, but die Captain Lord Clagg, First Baron Pudney !’
    Someone in the crowd now proposed three cheers for His Lordship and they were given with a will. The Queen bent over and tenderly kissed his brow, while her royal consort pressed his hand. Captain Clagg felt his senses swim with joy!
    At this point Johnny became aware that his mother was tugging at his hand, breaking into the quandary in which he found himself as to whether he should go on and die decently, as apparently they all expected him to do, and have a tombstone with a fine inscription – ‘Saviour of the Queen’ – set up over his grave, or whether he should recover miraculously to continue life as Baron Pudney, favourite of the Queen.
    ‘Shout, Johnny!’ cried his mother. ‘The Queen is coming by! God bless and save our gracious Queen!’
    The sweetness of the daydream faded. Grown-ups were always breaking into one’s reveries. Lord Clagg of Pudney was filed away for future adventures when he should be alone in his bed at night, and Johnny shouted dutifully, ‘God save the Queen! Hurrah for the Queen!’ He was back behind the barrier again, a wet, hungry, tired, trampled upon, disappointed Johnny Clagg who had come all the way from Sheffield for nothing. He remembered then that there would be no summer holiday either, no shrimping along the sand, no building of beach castles, no exploration of tidal pools in the rocks, no roundabouts, not anything. He turned his face away so that the others would not see and commenced quietly to cry.
    The hoof-clatter