Of the many events that marked the Command Performance Tour, the most memorable was the visit to the Empress Eugénie at Farnborough Hill.
She received them in the drawing-room. It was a warm day in late August, so she fluttered an exquisite black fan of stiffened Spanish lace. She had seated herself near Angeli's portrait of the Prince Imperial. On a small table beside her chair rested a photograph of Beth at the age of eighteen, taken in the garden at Camden Place in Chislehurst. Beth had posed with a nosegay of wood violets in her hands.
Among those present on this day was Doctor Dash, to whom the Empress had extended a special invitation.
The invitation to Dash had come as a surprise to Philo and Bart. Neither had known that the Mongol had discreetly continued his relationship with Eugénie. It had begun in the summer of 1880, when Bart had brought him up to Aberfeldie with other students from the medical college at Edinburgh. The Empress had been impressed with him then, and, in keeping with her lifelong penchant for the company of younger people, had invited him on occasion for private visits. She greatly admired his philosophy of life.
"Yes, Doctor Dash and I are old friends," she told them in the drawing-room. "It is for a very special reason that I have invited him to join you on this little pilgrimage. It is a surprise, n'est ce pas?"
"Indeed!" admitted Bart. "But I can think of nothing more welcome than my closest friend's presence here!"
"Ah," smiled the Empress, "but the good doctor is not my only surprise, mes amis ."
She pointed to the garden beyond a window.
"Look out there!" she commanded.
They saw a well-built Asian boy in his teens reading beneath a tree. Lost in his book, he sat cross-legged on the grass, his cheek leaning on his palm, his elbow resting on his knee. A shock of straight, black hair spilled over a high, intelligent forehead. As with many young Asians when seen through Western eyes, his appearance had an androgynous quality. He could have been called either beautiful or handsome. He was unaware that he was being observed.
Dash started when he saw the lad, then turned to the Empress and fell on his knees before her chair.
"Majesty! Majesty!" he said, his voice thick with emotion.
Eugénie stopped him with a wave of her hand. "Dear Doctor Dash, it is the least I could have done to reward you for the many, many stimulating hours you have shared with me. You cannot know how deeply a lonely woman appreciates the sweet companionship of a young man. Now, please, go into the garden and bring in that dear boy so we may introduce him."
Dash got up and backed away a few paces before hurrying from the room. A moment later, they saw him burst into the garden with a cry, his arms outspread.
Looking up, the boy stared in disbelief, then leapt to his feet, his book falling to the ground.
Dash embraced him, but the boy struggled away and knelt before him, knocking his forehead on the ground.
"I knew Doctor Dash for five years before he told me anything of himself," Eugénie said. "Even then, his story came in fits and starts over a lengthy period. In the first place, Doctor Bart, do you know his age?"
Bart frowned. "Well, Your Imperial Majesty, I am thirty-two. I assume he is about the same age as I."
She shook her finger. "Not at all. Doctor Dash is forty-one!"
"No!" exclaimed Bart in disbelief.
"It is true, my friend," she insisted. "I, too, was stunned. I have heard that some Orientals carry their years more lightly than we in the West. I always thought that a cliché - until I met Doctor Dash! He is still young, of course, but his wisdom is far beyond his years. I am interested in readings from the stars, portentous signs, and the symbols of numerology. On these subjects, Doctor Dash is an authority."
"Ah, yes!" interjected Philo. "Bart, wasn't it he who set your wedding date, and predicted the correct date of Romelle's birth?"
"Actually, it wasn't he," Bart corrected, "but a Tibetan who was visiting Paris at the time. Dash contacted him through friends."
Eugénie smiled knowingly. "True, but the gentleman had been the doctor's own teacher when he went to Tibet as a youth to study their mysterious spiritual sciences. Doctor Dash confessed to me about a year ago that he had not been ready at that time to let you know that he, too, is a shaman. He feared you might think him too eccentric. Very aware of the differences between the worlds of East and West, he goes to great lengths to at least superficially fit into ours, even with his dearest friend.
"He has told me much about his life. Your Doctor Dash is a Mongolian prince of the highest birth. When his father dies, he will become a sort of king, which they speak of as a khan , as in Jenghiz and Kublai Khan, two thirteenth-century Mongol leaders of whom all know."
The scene in the garden continued to unfold while they listened to Eugénie.
Dash lifted the boy from the ground. He embraced him again. Now they walked arm in arm toward the house.
"Doctor Dash did not come to England to matriculate at Cambridge University until he was in his late twenties," the Empress went on. "He was already thirty-two when he entered medical school at Edinburgh with you."
Dash and the boy came into the room. They bowed to the Empress, then turned to the others.
"I have the great honor," Dash beamed, "to present to you - my son!"
The boy bowed deeply from the waist.
"I am called Prince Dayan," he said in precise, beautifully modulated English. "That is how Her Imperial Majesty addresses me. Please do not address me as 'Prince,' and although 'Dayan' may seem informal, it will do nicely!"
He smiled shyly.
Charmed, Eugénie remarked, "We are, indeed, an informal group, my dear friends. You have all become a family to me."
"Your Imperial Majesty," asked Dash, "May I give our friends some information so that they may better understand the significance of my son's presence?"
She nodded.
"My country is ruled by the Manchus, who also rule the Chinese," Dash explained. "We have little voice in national affairs because the Manchus live in mortal fear of our rebelling. They are wise to fear us, for we were, at one time, the greatest warriors in the world. We have tolerated them for nearly two-hundred-and-fifty years, but now their oppressive occupation obstructs our progress toward the twentieth century. Going abroad to secure a Western education is, in particular, discouraged. My son and I are Mongolian Princes of the Blood, descended from the family of Jenghiz Khan the Great Conqueror and his grandson, Kublai Khan, Emperor of China and mentor of Marco Polo. We attended the imperial schools in Peking, where the Manchus determined we were politically 'safe.' Ha! Having deceived them, I was allowed to come to England."
He looked reverently at Eugénie. "It is this magnificent lady whose energy and influence have turned the wheels to bring my son to the West at a much earlier age than I. Madame, do I dare hope that you will tell us about how this was accomplished?"
The Empress shrugged. "Really, I did very little. Doctor Bart, do you recall the cousin of the Russian imperial family whom you brought with you from Edinburgh in 1880, when you introduced Doctor Dash into our group?"
Bart reflected for a moment. "Ah, yes, Chavadzy! Chavadzy was the one who tossed his glass against the tree after my toast to the Prince Imperial! I lost track of him after Edinburgh!"
Eugénie smiled triumphantly. "Not I! He is presently in charge of Tsar Alexander's personal infirmary at Tsarskoe Selo outside St. Petersburg. I spoke to Doctor Chavadzy, who spoke to the Tsar, who spoke to the Chinese ambassador, who spoke to the Emperor in Peking. Perhaps you do not know that Russia is extremely interested in Mongolia for its position as a buffer between the Siberian frontier and China. The Russian bear casts a most imposing shadow. Ha! So the Emperor decided to send our boy as a gesture of, shall we say, good will!"
"May God bless you, Ma'am," said Dash. "You have brought me my son, whom I last saw when he was two. To know my boy only through photographs and letters has been a great burden to me."
"Let us be about our business!" the Empress said firmly. "Preparations have been made as you instructed in your letter, Doctor Dash."
She picked up Beth's photograph.
"We have gathered to formalize my responsibility for the spiritual well-being of Beth's daughter. But for shifts in destiny, Romelle might well have been my grandchild."
She inclined toward Dash. "Doctor, please begin."
"Today is a remarkable day in many ways," Dash smiled, draping his arm for a moment around Dayan's shoulders. "It is important for this young man because it is his sixteenth birthday. Today, I consider him a man."
Dayan flushed with pride.
"His ancestors ruled the largest kingdom in history, from the shores of China to the banks of the Danube," Dash said. "I pray that it will be his generation that throws off the Manchu yoke, and leads us back to greatness again."
"Today, we also celebrate another birthday," he went on. "Romelle is now three. The third birthday symbolizes the full development of character. What her parents have made of her, she will remain. You have this concept in the Christian religion, embodied by the Holy Trinity, in which God's three manifestations are accounted a total, an established whole. Now is the time to recognize the ascending spiritual influence of others, as symbolized by the Empress Eugénie."
"Let us begin. The six of you - Your Imperial Majesty, Captain Duncan, Doctor Bart, Miss Rainbow, M'sieur Pierre and Dayan - comprise a circle of souls in tune with the infinite as M'sieur Pierre would tune his violin to unite with the principle of harmony. I stand apart as the shaman, and Romelle as the subject."
Dash went to Romelle, who slept in Annie's lap. He lifted her gently and kissed her forehead.
 "Precious child," he said, "this circle of souls stands guardian over yours. Destiny has already saved you once. Some great purpose must lie ahead for which you have been spared. You share a birth date, albeit thirteen years apart, with my son, and much has been foretold for him! We know how such serendipity can bind us to destinies not wholly our own. Yes, we know."
He lifted her to the portrait of the Prince Imperial. "He knew."
He inclined her toward the photograph of her mother. "She knew."
He carried her to Bart. "Take your daughter in your arms and kneel before Her Imperial Majesty."
Bart did so.
"Miss Annie, come to us, please." Dash spoke softly, his voice and his movements hypnotically slow. "Stand beside Bart. You represent Beth. Captain Duncan, M'sieur Pierre, Dayan, gather near us to complete the circle."
Joining his hands in a prayerful attitude, he said, "For centuries, we Mongols have begun our lives with four simple rituals. We believe them to be vibrant with spiritual forces. We believe they help to make us strong. It must be true. Did we not conquer the world?"
On the table beside the Empress sat four golden bowls, each covered with a silken cloth.
"Miss Annie, please uncover Romelle's breast," Dash requested.
She unbuttoned the child's dress.
"Your Imperial Majesty," Dash said, "at the age of seven days, the Mongol child is washed with salted tea."
He presented Eugénie with a silken cloth moistened by the liquid in the first bowl. She passed it lightly over Romelle's breast.
They repeated the same ritual with the second bowl. "At fourteen days, the child is washed in salted water."
When they were ready for the third, Dash said, "At twenty-one days, the child is bathed in diluted mare's milk," and gave Eugénie the dampened cloth. "At twenty-eight days, with its mother's milk," he concluded, advising them that he had substituted mare's milk in full strength.
Eugénie dabbed Romelle with the fourth cloth.
"Although we have warped the element of time in this ceremonial, we have touched a timeless truth in ritually connecting ourselves to this child," Dash intoned. "Children represent all that is to come."
Suddenly, Dayan stiffened and staggered against his father.
"My son!" Dash cried, throwing his arms around the boy. "What is wrong?"
Dayan trembled. His head fell back. His eyes rolled upward.
The others stood immobilized. Eugénie felt as if she were weighted in her chair.
With a voice heavier and more mature than before, Dayan began to speak in a monotone. He spoke in a strange language. His breathing was quick and labored.
Then, as abruptly as it came, the seizure went away.
Dayan fell limp, unconscious in his father's arms.
Everyone's taut muscles relaxed. The seated Empress flexed, sighing with relief.
Dash steadied himself. "My son has seen a vision of the future. He spoke in ancient Tibetan, a tongue used by only the most learned scholars, and shaman-priests such as I. He does not know the language. His body has been used as a device for the transmission of the vision from another level of existence to our ken. Dayan will be alright soon."
"Ah!" exclaimed Pierre. "We have this in Martinique among the black people. It is said that the 'old ones' from the spirit world speak to mankind this way. I have seen it also in Haiti and Brazil. I once witnessed a voodoo ritual on the slopes of our dormant volcano, Mont Pelée. They, too, formed themselves into a circle. An 'old one' spoke through a woman, warning that the mountain would waken one day and destroy us all!"
"Yes, yes," Dash nodded, "many cultures believe in these things....."
The Empress snapped her fan impatiently. "The vision! You are keeping us in the most dreadful suspense!"
"Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty," Dash apologized. "My son has said that he saw a great army riding down a mountainside. At its head rode an imposing general. At his side was a magnificent lady in a palanquin that shimmered in the sun. All around them there were cries, 'Blessing of God, blessing of God.' In front of them, as if leading the way, there pranced a small dog!"
Gasps of consternation echoed around the circle. All present thought the same thing, but Bart alone gave it voice: "The Prince Imperial? Beth? Pepper?"
Dash shook his head. "This scene was transmitted from many years in the future."
Dayan stirred in his father's arms. He opened his eyes.
"Wha...what happened?" he inquired blearily.
"It was just the excitement of the day," soothed Dash.
Stepping away from his father, Dayan looked at Romelle.
She, too, was awake now that Bart had set her down.
"Hello, golden poppy!" grinned the young prince, bending to touch her shining hair. "Would you like to come to the garden with me?"
Smiling shyly, she offered her hand.
He led her from the room.
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