Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [288]
‘In that case, you will be wiped from the field of play, won’t you?’
JandolAnganol knocked the fruit from his hand. It rolled across the floor and stopped against the wall.
‘I have my religious convictions. It would go against those convictions to put my queen aside. And there are those in your Church who would support me.’
‘You don’t mean poor old Ulbobeg?’
Although the prince’s hand shook, he bent and selected another fruit.
‘First of all, find some pretext to send her away somewhere. Get her out of the court. Send her to the coast. Then think about all the advantages which will accrue when you do as we wish you to do. I must return to Pannoval at the end of the week – with the news that you will make a dynastic marriage which the Holy C’Sarr himself will bless.’
The day continued difficult for JandolAnganol. During the morning’s meeting, while Taynth Indredd sat silent on his frog-throne, Guaddl Ulbobeg expounded the plan for the new marriage. This time, it was set out in diplomatic terms. When this action was taken, then those benefits would accrue. Great C’Sarr Kilandar IX, Father Supreme of the Church of Akhanaba, would approve both a bill of divorcement and the second marriage.
Wisely, nothing was said about what might or might not accrue in eighty-three years. Most diplomacy was concerned with getting through the next five years.
The royal household gave a luncheon for the guests, over which Queen MyrdemInggala presided, the king sitting at her side without eating, his little phagor waiting behind him. High-ranking members of the Borlienese scritina were also present.
A wealth of roasted crane, fish, pig, and swan was consumed.
After the banquet, Prince Taynth Indredd made his reply. Pretending to reciprocate for the feast, he had his bodyguard give a demonstration of the capabilities of the new matchlocks. Three mountain lions were brought in chains into one of the inner courtyards and despatched.
While the smoke was still clearing, the weapons were given to JandolAnganol. They were presented almost contemptuously, as if his assent to the Pannovalan demands was taken for granted.
The reason for the demonstration was clear. The scritina would demand that the king get more matchlocks from Pannoval to fight the various wars. And Pannoval would supply them – at a price.
No sooner was this ceremony concluded than two traders entered the palace grounds, bringing with them a body sewn into a sack, lashed to the back of an ancient kaidaw. The sack was opened. YeferalOboral’s body rolled out, with part of its chest and shoulder blown away. It was a tormented king who stalked into his chancellor’s chambers that evening. Batalix was setting among roll after roll of cloud, on which Freyr’s light intermittently shone. The warm western glow lit the dull corners of the room.
SartoriIrvrash rose from the long cluttered table at which he was sitting and bowed to the king. He was wrestling with his ‘Alphabet of History and Nature’. All about lay ancient sources and modern reports, at which the king’s quick eye glared dismissively.
‘What decision should I give Taynth Indredd?’ demanded the king.
‘May I speak clearly, Your Majesty?’
‘Speak.’ The king flung himself untidily into a chair, and the runt stood behind it so as to avoid SartoriIrvrash’s gaze.
SartoriIrvrash bowed his head so that the king could see only his expressionless bald pate. ‘Your Majesty, your first duty lies not to yourself but to your country. So says the ancient Law of Kings. The plan of Pannoval to cement our present good relations with Oldorando by a dynastic marriage is workable. It will render your throne more secure, its tenure less open to question. It will guarantee that in future we may turn to Pannoval for aid.
‘I think in particular of aid in the form of grain, as well as weapons. They have great fields in their more temperate north, towards the Pannoval Sea. This year, our harvest is poor, and will become yet poorer as the heat increases. Whereas our Royal Armourer can