Julian Rathbone - Kings of Albion

'He must have made a deep impression on you in what was, after all. a short time.'

I inclined my head but did not elaborate.

'Did you have any knowledge of what this packet contained?'

I glanced at it. 'When I handed it to your major-domo the leather strings were still knotted. It was not I who undid them. I was told that I would be cursed if I did.'

Prince Harihara picked up the bundle of parchment leaves and eased them apart. The cured sheepskin of which they were made creaked repellently and he could not repress a slight shudder of distaste. 'You have travelled much,' he said.

'Just about everywhere, except the southern parts of Africa and the unknown continent of Vinland, which some say lies west of Europe and east of Asia.'

'And you can read?"

'A little of most languages.'

'Inglysshe? Learned men who work in our libraries have already declared that that is the language most of this is written in. However, they were not sufficiently conversant with that language to translate what was in front of them. Can you read Inglysshe?'

'Bills of lading. Regulations regarding import and export, that sort of thing, yes. I can also ask for a room in an inn, order food, get fodder for any beasts I have with me ask directions and pass the time of day with any travelling companion I might share the road with.'

He handed me the top sheet of the part of the bundle that was written in the tongue we had been discussing. I read it aloud.

As John the apostel hit syy with syght

I syye that cyty of gret renoun

Jerusalem so nwe and ryally dyght

As hit was lyght fro the heven adoun

The birgh was al of brende golde bryght

As glemande glas burnist broun

With gentyl gemmes anunder pyght

Wyth banteles twelve of tiche tenoun

Uch tabelment was a serlypes ston-

'Well,' he interrupted, 'what does it all mean?'

'There are many ways of speaking this language, many dialects,' I replied, 'just as there are in your languages. I travelled and traded in the south-east of Ingerlond, and this is written in a dialect which I would guess is spoken in the north-west.'

'But you must have an idea of what it is about.'

'It seems to be describing a city. A city of some wealth, perhaps.'

'Go on.'

'Certainly it says there's gold burning bright, noble gems and, if I've got it right, twelve different sorts of precious stone.'

'How does it go on? What sort of stones? Does it name them?' He handed me the next sheet.

'Jasper, sapphire, chalcedony, emerald…'

'Good, good.'

'Sardonyx, ruby…'

'Are you sure it says "ruby"?'

"The sexte the rybe". I'm sure "rybe" must be ruby.'

'I ask because it is generally believed on this side of the world that rubies can only be found in Burmah and Mandalay. But go on.'

My finger tracked down the page as I picked out the words I believed were of interest to him, ignoring the rest. 'Chrysolite… beryl… topaz… chrysoprase… jacinth and… amethyst,' I concluded.

'Is that all? Is that it?'

I moved on a page or so. 'It goes on about how the streets of the city are golden and the "wones", I think that must mean houses, are all inlaid with precious stones. And the whole place is big. about a mile and a half square.'

He sighed. A sigh of satisfaction, repletion almost. Silence fell. Water tinkled in a fountain, a caged bird sang.

'Where is this city?' he asked at last.

'Jerusalem is mentioned, but I've been there and it was nothing like the place these pages describe.'

'Could it be anywhere in Ingerlond? Perhaps… in the northwest, I think you said?' I shrugged, stuck out my more or less scar-free bottom lip. He insisted, 'Have you heard of such a place? Surely, if such a place exists, you would have heard of it.'

'There are stories.' I ventured, 'but it's a part of Ingerlond I have never been in. The north-west, that is.'

He chewed his thumbnail for a moment and thought, clearly trying to decide how to proceed. 'If you wish payment for the service you have done me – indeed,' he added, double-locking, as it were, the stable-door, 'if you wish to receive a permit entitling you to reside here as a merchant for more than twenty-four hours – you will present yourself to my chamberlain tomorrow morning before noon. You may go now. Enjoy the festival."

And he turned away, picking up the three bits of parchment he had not let me peruse, on which, I presumed, his brother John, or Jehani, to give him his proper name, had written his personal message to him, in the Teluga language, using the script that is the private preserve of the rulers and nobles ot that country, and began to read them yet again.

Back at the great platform, I found that the student, or monk, I had met in the morning had been as good as his word and had kept a small space for me beside him, in spite of the huge press that now filled the square. He had even saved me a piece of unleavened bread smeared with a spicy paste that he had bought from one of the many vendors. With it he had kept for me a half coconut shell filled with soured cow's milk, ayran, we call it, lassi is their word – a most refreshing beverage.

The festivities that followed were as magnificent as I had expected, and as tedious. These things always are, are they not? Every quarter of the city had its troupe of dancers, its musicians; each vied with all in the splendour of their costumes and the intricacy of their performance – all of which is wonderful, no doubt, if you are a tiro, an expert who can distinguish the finer points that raise one troupe above another. And certainly they looked good, in magnificent multi-coloured robes and costumes, mostly in billowing silks with embellishments in gold thread, huge moulded masks crusted with gems, leafed with gold and plumed with the feathers of forest birds. Some wore their nails long or had artificial ones attached, some swung scimitars in ritualised combat. Some stamped their feet and others performed extraordinary contortions to represent their multi-limbed deities. They blew trumpets, banged gongs, tooted on flutes and twanged their long-armed guitars.

After an hour I was bored. After four hours, with the torches and flambeaux at last burning low, I was practically asleep. And then, to my consternation, I saw these replaced with fresh ones, which, I calculated, would take us through to dawn. I yawned, apologised to Suryan, and told him that I had been travelling on the road and before that by boat for many months without a break, that I had had a long and tiring day, that I was not as young as I once was…

'Ali, I'm so sorry,' he exclaimed, 'how thoughtless of me! You must come to my lodgings at once where we can have a proper meal and I can lend you a bed. No, no, please, I insist. Like you I have seen enough for one night. The festival runs for a week and we – I – can come again tomorrow. I shall not miss anything of importance.' Already he was leading me downhill, away from the platform, past the huge stables of the imperial elephants, through terraces and parks lit with lamps fuelled with aromatic ghee, towards the river, which we presently crossed on a wide, magnificent stone bridge, guarded by granite lions.

In apology for the spare entertainment he was about to offer me, lie explained that he led an ascetic life, although his family were landowners who could have provided him with all the luxuries he denied himself However, he was not pompous or preachy about all this – he admired showiness in others, and found nothing wrong with worldly pleasures. For, as he had already told me when expounding the Kauli creed, he, like most Vijayanagarans, believed that what happened after death was at best unknowable and that the highest happiness men or women can achieve, through exquisite and passionate sensation, is that unification of mind and body that reveals the godhead within, all achieved in this life.