Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [287]
‘Coz, take some fresh air at the window with me. See, there below is my charge, Simoda Tal, eleven years and six tenners old, daughter of the Oldorandan line, her ancestry traceable back to the Lords Den ruling Old Embruddock in the chill times.’
The girl, thinking herself unobserved, skipped in the courtyard below, dried her hair in a desultory fashion, and whirled her towel about her head now and again.
‘Why does she make the journey with you, Taynth?’
‘Because I wished you to see her. A pleasant girl, is she not?’
‘Pleasing enough.’
‘Young, it’s true, but, from certain signs I have had, of a quite lascivious nature.’
JandolAnganol felt a trap was about to spring. He withdrew his head and began to pace the room. Taynth Indredd turned about and settled himself comfortably on the ledge, blowing out smoke.
‘Cousin, we wish to see the member states of the Holy Pannoval Empire draw ever closer. We must protect ourselves against bad times – not only now but to come. In Pannoval, we have always had Akhanaba’s gift of foresight. That is why we wish you to marry this pretty young princess, Simoda Tal.’
The blood sank from JandolAnganol’s face. Straightening himself, he said, ‘You know I am already married – and to whom I am married.’
‘Face some unpleasant facts, coz. The present queen is the daughter of a brigand. She is not a fit match for you. The marriage degrades you and your country, which demands a better status. Married to Simoda Tal, though, yours would be a force to be reckoned with.’
‘It cannot be done. In any case, the mother of that girl down there is a Madi. Isn’t that so?’
Taynth Indredd shrugged. ‘Are Madis worse than the phagors you dote on? Listen, coz, we want this new match to go through as smoothly as possible. No hostility, only mutual help. In eighty-three more years, Oldorando will be aflame from one end to the other, with temperatures near to one hundred and fifty degrees, according to calculation. Oldorandans will have to move southwards. Form a dyastic marriage now, and they will be in your power then. They will be poor relations begging at your door. All Borlien-Oldorando will be yours – or your grandsons’ at least. It is a chance never to be missed. Now let’s have some more fruit. The squaanej are excellent.’
‘It cannot be done.’
‘It can. The Holy C’Sarr is prepared to annul your present marriage by a special bill.’
JandolAnganol raised a hand as if to strike the prince. He retained the hand at the level of his eyes and said, ‘My present marriage is my past marriage and my future one. If we need this dynastic marriage, then I will marry off Robayday to your Simoda. It would make an equal match.’
The prince leaned forward and pointed a finger at JandolAnganol. ‘Certainly not. Forget the suggestion. That boy is crazy. His grandma was the wild Shannana.’
The Eagle’s eyes flashed. ‘He’s not crazy. A little wild.’
‘He should have attended a monastery, as you did and as I did. Your religion must tell you that your son is inadmissible as a suitor. You must make the sacrifice, if you choose to regard it as such. You will be rewarded for any sense of loss by our considerable aid. When we have your consent, we shall present you with a chest full of the new weaponry, together with all necessary priming. More chests will follow. You can train gunners for use against Darvlish the Skull as well as the Randonanese tribes. You will gain every advantage.’
‘And what will Pannoval gain?’ JandolAnganol asked bitterly.
‘Stability, coz, stability. Over the next unstable period. The Sibornalese are not going to grow less powerful as Freyr nears.’
He nibbled at one of the purple squaanej.
JandolAnganol stood rooted where he was, looking away from the prince.
‘I am already married to a woman I love. I will not put MyrdemInggala aside.’
The prince laughed. ‘Love! Zygankes, as Simoda Tal would say! Kings cannot afford to think in such terms. You must put your country first. For Borlien’s sake, marry Simoda Tal, unify, stabilise …’
‘And if I don’t?’
Taking his