Michael Pearce - The Mingrelian Conspiracy

‘Are things going well?’

‘People are interested, all right. They like the stories. They’re a bit of a change. Only the old lot with their romances are so well established that it’s hard to get a foot in. There’s a lot of resistance, I can tell you.’

‘You’ll just have to keep at it.’

‘Yes, I know. Your father was right. It’s the only way.’

‘Are you all right for stories?’

The man fumbled beneath his robes and produced a handful of rather tattered papers.

‘Excellent!’ said Katarina. ‘Well, when you need some more-’

The storyteller bowed politely and moved away.

‘Shameless!’ said the stallkeeper indignantly. ‘Allowing herself to be spoken to by men!’

‘I know!’ said Owen. ‘That’s the problem, really. That’s why I, as her brother-’

Katarina gave him a furious glance and stalked off, head held high.

Owen followed her, at a distance, as she went round the stalls completing her shopping. When she had finished, he stepped up to her.

‘Carry your bags, miss?’

Katarina looked at him levelly.

‘That would create a disturbance!’ she said. ‘To have a man doing the carrying!’

She marched through the stalls to the edge of the suk and then set off down a side street. Owen drew alongside her.

‘If you are going to insist-’ she said.

‘Just a word.’

‘You’d better walk in front, then.’

He drew two paces in front of her and she took up the woman’s customary position.

‘I’d forgotten you were in the storytelling business.’

‘Story-selling!’ she corrected. ‘Not telling.’

‘They come to you for stories?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I am disillusioned. I thought they all came from oral tradition.’

‘The tradition’s died out. We’re trying to revive it. The trouble is, they don’t know the old stories. Not even Elf Leyleh wa-Leyleh.’

‘ The Arabian Nights? Not even that?’

‘They rely on old manuscripts, or even fragments of old manuscripts. Many are so tattered and worn that they can’t even be read now. My father’s been trying to get them together and make a collection of them. We take in old fragments, I copy them, and then we give them back and try to get them into more general circulation.’

‘It certainly seems to be livening up the world of storytelling.’

As Katarina did not reply, Owen looked over his shoulder. She was still there.

‘Did you come to talk to me about that?’ she demanded.

‘No. I want to talk about your grandfather.’

‘I am with him in everything he does.’

‘Should you be?’

Katarina was silent for a moment. Then she said: ‘What are you saying?’

‘Why is he buying gold?’

‘I don’t know. Why is he?’

‘To buy explosives.’

There was a long silence and again he looked round.

‘He knows what he’s doing,’ she said, a little shakily, however.

‘Well, does he? Do you know what explosives do? They blow people up. And not just the people you want to blow up; other people, too. People who are nothing to do with it, children, perhaps. Innocent bystanders who only went there to see the fun.’

‘The next alley on the right,’ instructed Katarina. ‘That is, if you’re still insisting.’

‘Can’t you hear what I’m saying?’

‘If you have action to take,’ said Katarina, still shaky but determined, ‘then take it.’

‘I’m trying to prevent the need for action.’

‘Why are you talking to me?’

‘Because you can stop it.’

‘I?’ Katarina laughed. ‘I?’

‘Yes. You. You could persuade him.’

‘What makes you think he would listen to me?’

‘He loves you.’

‘He loves me,’ said Katarina, ‘but he would not listen.’

‘You must try.’

‘Must I?’ said Katarina. ‘You are forgetting: I am with him in everything he does. It was my people they killed. My family that they wiped out.’

‘You’re the next generation, no, the generation after that, even. It may be right for him to remember but it’s not right for you.’

‘What do you expect me to do? Betray him?’

‘Dissuade him. Stop him from doing something that you know is not right.’

‘I don’t know it. I don’t know what he’s doing and I don’t care.’

‘You must care. There are others to think of as well as him. And I don’t mean the Grand Duke. I don’t care tuppence about the bloody Grand Duke. But I do care about the others, the ones who have nothing to do with it. And so ought you.’

‘I am with my grandfather,’ said Katarina obstinately, ‘in whatever he does.’

‘Think for yourself!’

‘I am thinking for myself.’

‘You’re not. You’re shut up in that crazy house with him. You listen to him too much. He’s sucked you into his crazy dreams. You need to talk to someone else. I wish to hell your father was back here.’

‘Do you?’ said Katarina, looking at him oddly. ‘Do you?’

Sorgos was very pleased to see him.

‘You arrive together? Or perhaps…?’ Taking in Katarina’s slightly flustered state. She immediately disappeared into the recesses of the house.

‘Together,’ said Owen.

Sorgos led him into what served in that small house as the mandar’ah, the reception room and saw him seated on a divan. Then he fussed off calling for Katarina. A little later he returned, carrying a small brazier and lighted coals, which he set down beside Owen.

‘I trouble you,’ said Owen.

‘No trouble at all,’ said Sorgos. Katarina came into the room with a brass tray on which there were two little cups, which she put down on a table in front of the divan.

‘You are well?’

‘Thanks be to God!’ Sorgos responded automatically.

‘And your granddaughter?’

‘Well, too,’ Sorgos beamed. ‘A beautiful girl, isn’t she? And healthy, too. There should be no problem about babies.’ His face clouded. ‘Only she’ll have to get started soon. If she is going to have five.’

‘Five?’

‘That’s what she should be going for. Now, if she had five, and they were all girls, and then each of them had five- why, our problems would be solved in no time at all!’

‘I’m not sure you can bank on-’

‘Girls are the key, you see. If you want to preserve the language. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this. Language is imbibed with a mother’s milk. Men are not so important. Of course, it’s a good thing if they have the language, too, but it’s not absolutely essential.’

‘Perhaps not.’

‘Let’s face it, there was always a lot of intermarrying among the tribes.’

‘Yes, you mentioned the other day that your own wife’s father-’

‘Just so. The trouble is, the Russians wiped the other tribes out too. About the time that they slaughtered us. So now we have to go further afield.’

The old man looked at Owen hopefully.

‘Well, yes, perhaps, um…The Russians have a lot to answer for, don’t they?’

‘And now is the time when they are going to start answering!’ said Sorgos enthusiastically.

‘Yes, well, I’m not sure-in fact, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.’

‘Going well,’ Sorgos assured him.

‘Going well?’

‘Yes. Fine young men. Plenty of energy. They get on and do things.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘Assassinating Grand Dukes, for instance.’

This was not quite what Owen wanted to hear.

‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Oh, quite sure. I was talking it over with them yesterday. Our preparations are well advanced. One or two things still to do, a lot of problem over the-But it will be solved. No, you don’t need to worry. We’ll be ready when the time comes.’