Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [329]
BranzaBaginut loomed over the king, who wore by contrast only breeches, was unbooted, and allowed his dirty white jacket to gape, revealing a boney chest.
The room itself was undecided in its role, being somewhere between a reception chamber and a storeroom. There were plenty of rugs and cushions of a mouldy sort, while old timbers were stacked in one corner. The windows looked out on a narrow passage; men passed that way occasionally, carrying piles of SartoriIrvrash’s papers into the courtyard.
‘Let me question this person, sire, on religious matters,’ said BranzaBaginut to the king. Receiving nothing in the way of disagreement, the dignitary sailed in the direction of Billy and asked, ‘Do you come from a world where Akhanaba the All-Powerful rules?’
Billy wiped his mouth, reluctant to cease eating.
‘You know I can easily give you an answer to please you. Since I have no wish to displease you, or his majesty, may I offer it you, knowing it to be untrue?’
‘Stand when you address me, creature. You give me your answer to my question and I tell you soon enough whether or not I am pleased by it.’
Billy stood before the massive ecclesiastic, still nervously wiping his mouth.
‘Sir, gods are necessary to men at some stages of development … I mean, as children, we need, each of us, a loving, firm, just father, to help our growth to manhood. Manhood seems to require a similar image of a father, magnified, to keep it in good check. That image bears the name of God. Only when a part of the human race grows to a spiritual manhood, when it can regulate its own behaviour, does the need for gods disappear – just as we no longer need a father watching over us when we are adults and capable of looking after ourselves.’
The archpriest smoothed a large cheek with a hand, appearing struck by this explanation. ‘And you are from a world where you look after yourselves, without the need of gods. Are you saying that?’
‘That is correct, sir.’ Billy looked fearfully about him. The Ice Captain reclined nearby, filling his face with the royal food, but listening intently.
‘This world you come from – Avernus, did I hear? – is it a happy one?’
The priest’s innocent-seeming question set Billy in a good deal of confusion. Had the same question been put to him a few weeks ago on the Avernus, and by his Advisor, he would have had no trouble answering. He would have responded that happiness resided in knowledge, not in superstition, in certainty, not in uncertainty, in control, not in chance. He would have believed that knowledge, certainty, and control were the singular benefits derived from and governing the lives of the population of the observation station. He would certainly have laughed – and even his Advisor would have spared a wintery chuckle – at the notion of Akhanaba as bringer of felicity.
On Helliconia, it was different. He could still laugh at the idolatrous superstition of the Akhanaban religion. And yet. And yet. He saw now the depth of meaning in the word ‘godless’. He had escaped from a godless state to a barbaric one. And he could see, despite his own misfortunes, in which world the hope of life and happiness more strongly lay.
As he was stuttering over his reply, the king spoke. JandolAnganol had been meditating Billy’s previous answer. He said challengingly, ‘What if we have no sound image of a father to guide us to manhood? What then?’
‘Then, sir, Akhanaba may indeed be a support to us in our trouble. Or we may reject him completely, as we reject our natural father.’
This reply caused the king’s nose