Brian Aldiss - Helliconia Summer

So, in her self-effacing way, she opposed the king. He was forced to find another way to show his anger. And a way was at hand.

Outwardly, Sayren Stund preserved a pleasant demeanour. He could not admit any responsibility for the killing of Yuli. He even invited JandolAnganol to a meeting to discuss wedding arrangements. They convened in a room where fans swung from the ceiling, where potted vulus grew, and where bright Madi rugs hung on the walls in place of windows, Pannoval-style.

With Sayren Stund were his wife and an advisor in holy orders, a tall saturnine man with a face like an unshaven hatchet, who sat in the background, looked at no one, and said nothing.

JandolAnganol arrived in full uniform, escorted by one of his captains, a hearty outdoor man who looked bewildered by his new diplomatic role.

Sayren Stund poured wine and offered a glass to JandolAnganol.

The latter refused. “The fame of your vineyards is universal, but I have found the vintage makes me sleepy.”

Ignoring the thrust, Sayren Stund came to the point.

“We are content that you should marry the Princess Milua Tal. You will recall that your intention was to wed my murdered daughter in Oldorando. Therefore we request you to hold the ceremony here, under the dispensation of the Holy C’Sarr himself, when he arrives.”

“Sire, I understood you to say you were eager for me to leave today.”

“That was a misunderstanding. We are given to understand that the tame creature of yours which caused us offence has been disposed of.” As he said this, his eyes slid towards the saturnine advisor, as if for support. “We will hold festivities appropriate for you, rest assured.”

“Are you certain the C’Sarr will be here in three days?”

“His messengers are already here. Our agents are in touch. His entourage has passed Lake Dorzin. Other visitors, such as Prince Taynth Indredd of Pannoval, are expected tomorrow. Your nuptials will make the occasion a solemn historic event.”

Realizing that Sayren Stund intended to gain advantage over him by this delay, JandolAnganol retired to a corner of the room to talk to his captain. He wished to leave immediately before more treachery could be worked. But for that he needed a ship, and ships were at the dispensation of Sayren Stund. There was also the pressing question—as the captain reminded him—of SartoriIrvrash, bound and gagged and near suffocation in Fard Fantil’s garderobe.

He addressed Sayren Stund. “Have we reason to be certain that the Holy C’Sarr will perform this office for us? He is ancient, is he not?”

Sayren Stund pursed his lips.

“Ageing, certainly. Venerable. Not, I’d say to the best of my judgement, ancient. Possibly thirty-nine and a tenner or two. But he might, of course, have an objection to the alliance, on the grounds that Borlien continues to harbour phagors and refuses to obey requests for a drumble. On that point of doctrine, I would not myself care to be dogmatic; we must naturally hear the judgement from his holy lips.”

Points of anger burned on JandolAnganol’s cheeks.

In a restrained voice, he said, “There is reason to believe that our beloved religion—to which none is more attached than I—began in simple phagor worship. That was when both phagors and men lived more primitively. Although ecclesiastical history seeks to hide the fact, the All-Powerful once closely resembled an ancipital in appearance. Of more recent centuries, popular images have blurred over that resemblance. Nevertheless, it is there.

“Nobody imagines nowadays that phagors are all-powerful. I know from my personal experience how docile they can be, given firm handling. Nevertheless, our religion hinges centrally upon them. Therefore it cannot be just to persecute them under the edicts of the Church.”

Sayren Stund looked back for assistance to his priestly advisor. This worthy spoke, saying in a hollow voice, without looking up, “That is not an opinion which will carry weight with His Holiness the C’Sarr, who would say that the Borlienese king blasphemes against the countenance of Akhanaba.”

“Quite,” said Sayren Stund. That is not an opinion which will carry weight with any of us, brother. The C’Sarr must marry you and you must keep your views to yourself.”

The meeting concluded briskly. Alone with his queen and the dark advisor, Sayren Stund rubbed his chubby hands and said, “Then he will wait for the C’Sarr. We have three days to see the wedding does not take place. We need SartoriIrvrash. The phagor quarters in Whistler Park have been searched and he is not there. He must then be still in the palace. We will have the king’s quarters searched—every nook and cranny.”

The dark advisor cleared his throat. “There is the question of the woman, Odi Jeseratabhar. She arrived here with SartoriIrvrash. This morning, she sought refuge in the Sibornalese ambassadorial mansion in some distress, reporting her friend’s disappearance. My understanding is that she is an admiral. My agents tell me that she has not been well received. The ambassador may treat her as a traitor. Nevertheless, he will not hand her over—as yet at least.”

Sayren Stund fanned himself and took some wine. “We can manage without her.”

There is another point in your majesty’s favour which my ecclesiastical lawyers have produced,” continued the priestly advisor. “King JandolAnganol’s divorcement from MyrdemInggala is contained in a bill which as yet remains in the possession of Alam Esomberr. Although the king has signed it and appears to believe his divorce absolute, by an ancient enactment of Pannovalan canon law the divorce of royal personages is not absolute until the bill has physically passed into the keeping of the C’Sarr. The enactment was passed in order to delay ill-considered dynastic alliances. So at present King JandolAnganol is in a de facto state of decree nisi.”

“And therefore cannot marry again?”

“Any marriage contracted before the decree is absolute would be illegal.”

Sayren Stund clapped his hands and laughed. “Excellent. Excellent. He’s not going to get away with this impertinence.”

“But we need an alliance with Borlien,” said the queen feebly.

Her husband scarcely bothered to look at her.

“My dear, we have but to undermine his position, to disgrace him, and Matrassyl will reject him. Our agents report further riots there. I may then myself step in as the saviour of Borlien, ruling over both kingdoms, as Oldorando has ruled over Borlien in the past. Have you no sense of history?”

JandolAnganol was well aware of the difficulty of his position. Whenever he felt discouraged he whipped up his anger by thinking of Sayren Stund’s malice. When he had sufficiently recovered from the shock of discovering Yuli’s headless body to leave his room, he had come upon the head lying in the corridor. A few yards farther down the corridor lay the human guard he had posted, stabbed to death, his face hacked at savagely with a sword. JandolAnganol had vomited. A day later, sickness still overwhelmed him. Despite the heat, there was chill in his body.

After the meeting with Sayren Stund, he walked across to Whistler Park, where a small crowd which had gathered gave him a cheer. Association with the phagorian guard calmed him.

He inspected their premises with greater care than before. The phagor commanders trailed behind him. One of the pavilions had been designed as a kind of guest house, and was pleasantly furnished. Upstairs was a complete apartment.

“This apartment will be mine,” JandolAnganol said.

“It makes your place. No person in Hrl-Drra Nhdo have entry here.”

“No phagors either.”

“No phagors.”

“You will guard it.”

“It izz our understanding.”