Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [309]
Her coach stopped by the river. A lackey jumped down and opened the door for her majesty. She put forth a dainty foot and stepped down upon the cobbles. Tatro followed, and the lady-in-waiting.
MyrdemInggala hesitated and looked round. She wore a veil, but the aura of her beauty was about her like a perfume. The lugger that was to take her and her entourage downstream to Ottassol, and thence to Gravabagalinien, awaited her. A minister of the Church in full canonicals stood on deck to greet her. She walked up the gangplank. A sigh escaped the crowd as she left Matrassylan soil.
Her head was low. Once she had gained the deck and accepted the minister’s greeting, she pulled back her veil and lifted a hand in farewell, her head high.
At the sight of that peerless face, a murmur rose from the wharves and walks and roofs nearby, a murmur which rumbled into a cheer. This was Matrassyl’s inarticulate farewell to its queen of queens.
She gave no further sign, letting the veil drop, turning on her heel and going below, out of sight.
As the ship weighed anchor, a young court gallant ran forward to stand on the edge of the quay and declaim a popular poem, ‘And Summer’s Self She Is.’ There was no music, no more cheering.
No one standing there in silent farewell knew of the events at the court that afternoon, though news of fearful deeds would leak out soon enough.
The sails were hoisted. The ship of exile moved slowly from the quayside and began its journey downstream. The queen’s vicar stood on the deck and prayed. Nobody in the watching crowd, on the street, on the cliffs, or perched on rooftops, stirred. The wooden hull began to shrink with distance, its detail to be lost.
The people went silently away to their homes, taking their banners with them.
The Matrassyl court swarmed with factions. Some factions were unique to the court; others had nationwide support. The best-supported of the latter groups was undoubtedly the Myrdolators. This ironically named clique opposed the king on most issues and supported the queen of queens on all.
Within the major groupings were minor groupings. Self-interest saw to it that each man was divided in some way against his brother. Many reasons could be invented for supporting or opposing a closer union with Oldorando, in the continual jockeying for position in court.
There were those – haters of women perhaps – who hoped to see Queen MyrdemInggala disgraced. There were those – dreaming of possessing her perhaps – who wished to see her remain. Of those who wished to see her remain, some of the most fervent Myrdolators believed that she should stay and the king should go. After all, they argued, to look at the affair legalistically – and to ignore her physical attractions – the queen’s claim to the throne of Borlien was as valid as the Eagle’s.
Envy saw to it that the enemies of both king and queen were perpetually active. On the day of departure of the queen many were ready to take up arms.
On the morning of that day, JandolAnganol had moved against the malcontents.
By a ruse, the king and SartoriIrvrash had the Myrdolators meet together in a chamber in the palace. Sixty-one of them foregathered, some of them greybeards who had professed loyalty to MyrdemInggala’s parents, RantanOboral and Shannana the Wild. They stormed indignantly in to the meeting. The Household Guard slammed the doors on them and guarded the chamber. While the Myrdolators screamed and fainted in the heat, the Eagle, with malicious glee on his face, went to a final meeting with his lovely queen.
MyrdemInggala was still overwhelmed by the turn in her fortunes. Her cheeks were pale. There was a feverish look in her eyes. She could not eat. She started at small things. When the king came upon her, she was walking with Mai TolramKetinet, discussing prospects for her children. If she was threatened, so were they. Tatro was small, and a girl. It was upon Robayday that the brunt of