Elder Isles 2: The Green Pearl (11 page)

“Your information is correct,” said Aillas. “The fortifications have been augmented, and certainly they guard against invasion from Lyonesse. But is not the rationale clear? You are not immortal; imagine, if you will, that a monarch cruel, treacherous and warlike came to rule Lyonesse! Let us suppose that this monarch, for reasons beyond conjecture, decided to attack Ulfland… well then! We are prepared for him and if he is sane he will be dissuaded.”

Casmir showed a wintry smile. “I grant a theoretical basis for this line of thought, but is it not, in practice, somewhat farfetched?”

“I certainly hope so,” said Aillas. “May I pour you more of this wine? It is produced on my own estate.”

“Thank you; it is very fine indeed. The wines of Troicinet are not as well known at Haidion as they should be.”

“That, of course, is a lack easy to overcome, and I shall see to it.”

Casmir thoughtfully lifted the goblet, swirled the wine and watched the golden ripples. “It is hard to recall the harsh old times when bad blood existed between our peoples.”

“All things change,” said Aillas.

“Exactly! Our treaty, signed in the heat of ruffled feelings, stipulated that Lyonesse should build no warships, on an outmoded presumption. Now that amity has returned… ”

“Just so!” declared Aillas. “The present equilibrium has served us well! It is a balance which encourages peace across all the Elder Isles. This balance and this peace are vital to us and form the basis of our foreign policy.”

“Oh?” King Casmir frowned. “And how can you implement so broad a policy?”

“The principle is simple enough. We can allow neither Lyonesse nor Dahaut to gain ascendancy over the other, because then our own security would disappear. Should King Audry attack Lyonesse and by some miracle gain advantage, then we must join the war on the side of Lyonesse until the stasis returns; and vice versa.”

Casmir managed an easy laugh and, draining his goblet, set down the empty vessel with a thump. “I wish that my own goals could be so easily defined. Alas! They depend on such ineffable considerations as justice, the redressment of old wrongs, and the thrust of history.”

Aillas poured wine into Casmir’s goblet. “I do not envy you your maze of uncertainties. Still, you need be at no doubt in regard to Troicinet. Should either Lyonesse or Dahaut grow strong enough to menace the other, then we must throw our strength behind the weaker. In effect, you are protected by a strong navy without incurring any of the expense.”

King Casmir rose to his feet. He spoke somewhat curtly. “I am tired after the voyage, and I will now bid you good evening.”

Aillas, rising, said: “I hope that your rest will be comfortable.”

The two went to the drawing room where Queen Sollace sat with ladies of both courts. King Casmir went only to the doorway and bowed stiffly to the occupants of the room. Queen Sollace rose to her feet, bade the company goodnight and the two were escorted to their chambers by footmen bearing flamboys.

Aillas returned along the great gallery toward his parlour. From the shadows stepped a stout person in a plum-red cassock. “King Aillas! A moment of your time, if you please!”

Aillas stopped and surveyed the rubicund face of Father Umphred, as he now called himself. Aillas pretended no cordiality. “What do you want?”

Umphred chuckled. “I thought, first of all, to renew our old acquaintance.”

Aillas, from sheer distaste, moved back a step. Nothing daunted, Umphred spoke on. “As you may know, I have successfully brought the Holy Message to Lyonesse Town. King Casmir almost certainly will sponsor the construction of a noble cathedral, to glorify the name of God within the precincts of his happy city. If so much transpires, I may well wear the mitre.”

“This is nothing to me,” said Aillas. “In fact, I am surprised that you dare show your face in my presence.”

With a jovial smile and a flourish of the hand, Father Umphred erased every vestige of ill-feeling which might have existed between the two. “I bring to Troicinet the joyous message of the Gospels! Pagan pomp still holds sway in Troicinet, Dascinet and South Ulfland. Nightly I pray that I may bring King Aillas and all his people into the glory of the true faith!”

“I have neither time nor inclination for such matters,” said Aillas. “My people believe or disbelieve as they see fit, and that is the way of it.” He started to turn away, but Father Umphred put a soft white hand on his arm. “Wait!”

Aillas turned. “Well then, what now?”

Father Umphred smiled a rich and tender smile. “I pray for your personal salvation, and also that, like King Casmir, you will encourage the construction of a cathedral at Domreis the better to disseminate the Truth of God! And, if you like, to rival in splendor the cathedral at Lyonesse Town, and I might hope for the arch-bishopric itself!”

“I will sponsor no Christian church, in Domreis or elsewhere.”

Umphred thoughtfully pursed his lips. “Such are your present views but perhaps you may be induced to change them.”

“I think not.”

Again Aillas turned away, and again Father Umphred detained him. “A great pleasure to see you again, though my mind reverts with sadness to the unhappy events of our first acquaintance. To. this day King Casmir is not aware of your old identity! I am assured that you do not wish him to know; otherwise you would have informed him yourself. Am I right in this?” And Father Umphred, standing back, surveyed Aillas with kindly interest.

Aillas reflected a moment, then said in a neutral voice: “Come with me, if you will.”

A few steps along the gallery, Aillas paused beside a uniformed footman. “Ask Sir Hassifa the Moor to join me in the small parlour.” Aillas beckoned to Umphred. “Come.”

His smile now somewhat less fulsome, Umphred followed. Aillas ushered him into the small parlour, shut the door, then went to stand by the fire, to look silently down into the flames.

Father Umphred attempted a pleasantry. “Yes indeed! Your present condition far exceeds your old! Poor little Suldrun: a sad end indeed! The world is a vale of woe, and we are sent here that we may be tested and purified for the halcyon times to come!”

Aillas made no comment. Encouraged by what he thought to be Aillas’ deep concern, Umphred continued. “My fondest hope is to lead the King of Troicinet and his noble folk into salvation, and a grand cathedral would cause the angels themselves to sing! And then, naturally, since you seem to prefer it, the facts of your old identity shall remain as secure as the secrets of the confessional.”

Aillas darted him a single bright glance, then continued to brood into the flames.

The door opened. Yane, still in the guise of Sir Hassifa the Moor, came quietly into the parlour. Aillas straightened up and swung around. “Ah, Sir Hassifa! May I ask, are you a Christian?”

“By no means.”

“Good: a simplification. Take note of this fellow here: what do you see?”

“A priest, fat, white and sleek as a beaver, and no doubt unctuous of tongue. He arrived today from Lyonesse.”

“Just so. I want you to examine him with care, so that you will never mistake him for any other.”

“Sir, he could pull the hood tight around his face, name himself Beelzebub and hide in the deepest catacomb of Rome and still I would know him.”

“You will find this amazing! He claims old acquaintance with me.”

Sir Hassifa turned to examine Umphred with wonder. “What could be his motives?”

“He wants me to build him a fine church at Domreis. If I refuse, he threatens to betray my identity to King Casmir.”

Sir Hassifa inspected Umphred anew. “Is he addled? King Casmir already knows your identity. You are Aillas of Troicinet.”

Umphred began to dislike the tone of the conversation. He licked his lips. “Yes, yes, of course. I merely ventured a pleasantry, as might pass between old friends!”

Aillas spoke to Sir Hassifa: “He persists in his claim! I am becoming annoyed. If he were not here as a guest, I might well clap him into a dungeon. I may do so in any case.”

“Do not soil your hospitality on his account!” Sir Hassifa advised. “Wait until he returns to Lyonesse. I can have his throat cut at any hour of day or night, with a sharp or dull knife.”

Aillas said: “It might be best to drag him before Casmir at this very moment and hear what he has to say. Then, if he utters some malicious tale… ”

“Wait!” cried Umphred desperately. “I now understand my error! I was mistaken, in whole and in part! I have never seen you before in my life!”

Sir Hassifa said: “I fear that he might yet blurt out some tumble of dirty nonsense, to the detriment of your dignity.” He produced a gleaming dagger. “Let me cut out his tongue, at least. We will cauterize the wound with a hot poker.”

“No, no!” cried Umphred, now sweating. “I will say nothing to anyone! My lips are sealed! I know a thousand secrets; all are immured forever!”

Aillas said to Yane: “Since he is a guest, I can take the matter no farther. But if ever a rumor or hint of his folly be heard… ”

“No need to threaten!” declared Umphred. “I have made a sad mistake, which will never be repeated!”

“That is good news,” said Aillas. “Especially for you. Remember that the person for whom you mistook me has reason to take a savage revenge upon you.”

“The episode is forgotten,” said Umphred. “Pray excuse me now; I am fatigued and I still have my devotions to perform.”

“Go.”

FROM MiRALDRA’S MAIN GALLERY a portal opened into the great hall. To either side of the opening stood a heroic marble statue, the pair brought from the Mediterranean five centuries before. The statues represented warriors of ancient Hellas, naked save for helmets, with short swords and shields held in attitudes of attack.

King Casmir and Queen Sollace, after taking breakfast in their chambers, strolled along the gallery, pausing now and again to examine those objects of craft and virtue which across the years had been collected by the kings of Troicinet.

Beside one of the marble statues stood a footman in the livery of Miraldra, armed with a ceremonial halberd. As King Casmir and Queen Sollace paused to examine the heroic figures, the footman made a signal to King Casmir, who, turning his head, recognized that person whom he knew as “Valdez”.

King Casmir looked up and down the gallery, then stepped apart from Queen Sollace and approached the footman. “So this is your vantage-point!” he muttered. “I have often wondered!”

“You would not see me here today, had I not wished to speak with you. I will no longer be coming to Lyonesse Town; my movements are attracting notice among the fishermen.”

“Oh?” King Casmir’s voice was flat. “What will you do now?”

“I intend a quiet life in the country.”

King Casmir, pretending interest in the statue, reflected a moment. “You must come to Lyonesse Town one last time, that I may reward you properly for your service. Perhaps we might arrange a new system, from which you would derive profit but know no risk.”

“I think not,” said Valdez drily. “Still, if someone speaks my name at Haidion, give him attention; he will bring news… . Someone approaches.”

King Casmir turned away, and with Queen Sollace strolled down the gallery.

After a moment Sollace asked: “Why do you frown so?”

King Casmir forced a laugh. “Perhaps I envy King Aillas his fine statues! We must see to something similar at Haidion.”

“I would rather have a set of authentic relics for my church,” mused Queen Sollace.

King Casmir, lost in thought, spoke absentmindedly: “Yes, yes, my dear; so it shall be, just as you wish.”

Events, in fact, were not going to King Casmir’s satisfaction. When spies left his employ, he liked to terminate the relationship in a definite manner, so that they might never sell their services elsewhere, and perhaps apply what they had learned to his detriment… . Slowly he became aware of Queen Sollace’s voice: “…so Father Umphred assures me, is to buy before the need is recognized. He knows of three authentic splinters from the Holy Cross that we could acquire at this moment for a hundred crowns apiece. The Holy Grail itself is known to be somewhere about the Elder Isles, and Father Umphred has had the opportunity to buy maps providing exact…”

Casmir demanded: “Woman, what are you talking about?”

“The relics for the cathedral, of course!”

“How can you talk of relics when the cathedral itself is no more than a hallucination?”

Queen Sollace spoke with dignity. “Father Umphred declares that in time the Holy Lord will surely bring you to grace.”

“Ha. If the Holy Lord wants a cathedral so badly, let him build it himself.”

“I shall so pray!”

Half an hour later King Casmir and Queen Sollace again passed by the statues, but now Valdez was nowhere to be seen.

THE STAR REGULUS EASED AWAY from the jetty and with yards braced hard on the port tack, gathered way and departed Miraldra. King Casmir climbed to the poop deck and went to stand by the taff-rail. He raised his arm high toward the notables on the dock; his expression, placid and benign, indicated only satisfaction with his visit.

The carrack, leaving the harbour, rose and fell to long swells from the west. Casmir descended the companionway and retired to the main saloon. He settled into the great chair and, gazing out the stern casements, mulled over the events of the past few days.

Apparently, and for all to see, the visit had gone exactly to the precepts of courtly etiquette. Still, despite the exchange of public compliments, antipathy hung dark and heavy between the two kings.

The scope of this mutual dislike puzzled King Casmir: where was its source? Casmir’s memory for faces was exact; almost certainly he had known King Aillas in other less amiable circumstances. Long years before, Granice, then King of Troicinet, had visited Haidion at Lyonesse Town. His company had included Aillas, then an obscure little princeling not even reckoned in the line of royal succession. Casmir had barely noticed him. Could this child have created so mordant an impression? Most unlikely; Casmir, a practical man, wasted no emotion on trivial causes.

The mystery weighed on Casmir’s mind, especially since he felt that somewhere a significant portent awaited his knowing. Aillas’ face slipped in and out of mental focus, always pinched into an expression of cold hatred. The background remained indistinct. A dream? A magic spell? Or simple discord between the rulers of competing states?