Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [276]
Endeavouring to deliver him from his own blindness, she added gently, ‘Since the incident in the Cosgatt, I have to be careful with his majesty.’
Tatro tugged SartoriIrvrash’s whiskers. ‘You mustn’t go sailing at your age, Rushven.’
He set her down on the ground and saluted her. ‘We may all have to make unexpected journeys before we are finished, my dear little Tatro.’
As on most mornings, MyrdemInggala and her brother walked along the western ramparts of the palace and gazed out over the city. This morning, the mists that little winter usually brought were absent. The city lay clear below them.
The ancient stronghold stood on a cliff looming over the town, in a deep curve of the Takissa. Slightly towards the north, the Valvoral gleamed where it joined the greater river. Tatro never tired of looking down at the people in the streets or on the river craft.
The infant princess extended a finger towards the wharfs and cried, ‘Look, ice coming, Moth!’
A fore- and aft-rigged sloop was moored by the quayside. Its hatches had recently been opened, for steam poured forth into the air. Carts were drawn up alongside the ship, and blocks of finest Lordryardry ice gleamed for a moment in the sun as they were swung from the hold into the waiting vehicles. As ever, the delivery was on time, and the palace with its guests would be awaiting it.
The ice carts would come rumbling up the castle road, winding as the road wound, with four oxen straining at the shafts, to gain the fortress which stood out like a ship of stone from its cliffs.
Tatro wanted to stand and watch the ice carts come all the way up the hill, but the queen was short of patience this morning. She stood slightly apart from her child, looking about her with an abstracted air.
JandolAnganol had come at dawn and embraced her. She sensed that he was uneasy. Pannoval loomed. To make matters worse, bad news was coming from the Second Army in Randonan. It was always bad news from Randonan.
‘You can listen to the day’s discussion from the private gallery,’ he said, ‘if it won’t bore you. Pray for me, Cune.’
‘I always pray for you. The All-Powerful will be with you.’
He shook his head patiently. ‘Why isn’t life simple? Why doesn’t the faith make it simple?’ His hand went to the long scar on his leg.
‘We’re safe while we’re here together, Jan.’
He kissed her. ‘I should be with my army. Then we’d see some victories. TolramKetinet is useless as a general.’
There’s nothing between the general and me, she thought – yet he knows there is …
He had left her. As soon as he was gone, she felt gloomy. A chill had fallen over him of late. Her own position was threatened. Without thinking, she linked her arm through her brother’s as they stood on the ramparts.
Princess Tatro was calling, pointing to servants she recognised wending their way up the hill to the palace.
Less than twenty years earlier, a covered way had been built up the hillside to the walls. Under its protection, an army had advanced on the besieged fortress. Using gunpowder charges, it blew an entrance into the palace grounds. A bloody battle was fought.
The inhabitants were defeated. All were put to the sword, men and women, phagors and peasants. All except the baron who had held the palace.
The baron disguised himself and – binding his wife, children, and immediate servants – led them to safety through the breached wall. Bellowing to the enemy to get out of his way, he had successfully bluffed a path to freedom with his mock prisoners. Thus his daughter escaped death.
This Baron RantanOborol was the queen’s father. His deed became renowned. But the fact was that he could never regain his former power.
The man who won the fortress – which was described, like all fortresses before they fall, as impregnable – was the warlike grandfather of JandolAnganol. This redoubtable old warrior