Hearing Secret Harmonies - Anthony Powell [89]
Halfway through the sentence I saw that tradition was one preferably to have remained unrepeated in the circumstances. Sir Magnus had narrated the tale to Prince Theodoric the day the Walpole-Wilsons had taken me to luncheon here. I added quickly that the room we were in had once contained some remarkable tapestries depicting the Seven Deadly Sins. That seemed scarcely an improvement as a topic. Fiona may have felt the same, as she enquired about the wedding.
‘How did Sebastian stand up to it?’
‘Very well. Let’s return to them, and drink some champagne.’
Fiona looked questioningly at Gwinnett, as she used to look at Murtlock for a decision; perhaps had so looked at Delavacquerie, before relinquishing him.
‘Do you want to see them all yet?’
‘Whatever you say.’
I supposed they would prefer to remain alone together.
‘I’m going to continue my exploration of the Castle for a short time, then I’ll see you later at the reception.’
Fiona did not seem anxious to face her relations yet.
‘We’ll come with you. You can show us round. I’d like to see a bit more of it. Wouldn’t you, Rus?’
‘I don’t know the place at all well. I was here absolutely years ago, and only went into a few rooms then.’
‘Never mind.’
The three of us set off together.
‘I’m glad I wasn’t at school here.’
Stourwater was one of the educational establishments Fiona had never sampled. The new role of young married woman seemed to come with complete ease to her. There could be no doubt that she liked exceptional types. Gwinnett’s attraction to Fiona was less easy to classify. A faint train of thought was perceptible so far as Pamela Widmerpool was concerned, though Fiona had neither Pamelas looks, nor force of character. The impact of Pamela might even have jolted Gwinnett into an entirely different emotional channel, his former inhibitions cured once and for all. That was not impossible.
‘Sir Magnus Donners once took some of his guests down to the so-called dungeons, but I’m not sure I can find them.’
Gwinnett pricked up his ears.
‘The dungeons? Let’s see them. I’d like to look over the dungeons.’
Fiona agreed.
‘Me, too. Do have a try to find them.’
They did not cease to hold hands, while several rooms and passages were traversed. Structural alterations had taken place in the course of adapting the Castle to the needs of a school. The head of the staircase leading to these lower regions, where the alleged dungeons were on view – knowledgable people said they were merely storerooms – could not be found. Several doors were locked. Then a low door, a postern, brought us out into a small courtyard, a side of the Castle unenclosed by moat. Here school outbuildings had been added. Beyond this open space lay playing fields, a wooden pavilion, some seats. Further off were the trees of the park. Gwinnett surveyed the courtyard.
‘This near building might have been a brewhouse. The brickwork looks Tudor.’
Fiona turned towards the fields.
‘At least I’ll never have to play hockey again.’
‘Did you hate games?’
‘I used to long to die, playing hockey on winter afternoons.’
Gwinnett gave up examining the supposed brewhouse. We moved towards the open.
‘In the ball-courts of the Aztecs a game was played of which scarcely anything is known, except that the captain of the winning side is believed to have been made a human sacrifice.’
Gwinnett said that rather pedantically.
‘The rule would certainly add to the excitement of a cup-tie or test match.’
‘Another feature was that, when a goal was scored – a very rare event – all the clothes and jewellery of the spectators were forfeit to the players.’
‘Less good. An incitement to rowdyism.’
‘I think they both sound excellent rules,’ said Fiona. ‘Nothing I’d have liked better than to execute the captain, and I never watched any games, if I could help it, so they wouldn’t have got my gear.’
Gwinnett would have liked to remain serious, but gave way to her mood. Marriage