Paul Hoffman - The Left Hand of God

When Vipond heard what had happened and that Riba was now in the Honorable Edith Materazzi’s clutches, he summoned Mademoiselle Jane immediately and gave his niece a most frightful bollocking. She emerged from his office, sobbing and wailing in terror, but there was nothing to be done but wait and see what the old witch was up to.

The Honorable Edith Materazzi did not waste time. She knew that something was up and that it involved her daughter. There had been wild rumors about her absence after visiting Lake Constanz three weeks before, rumors including a secret marriage and a secret birth. None of them so wild, however, as the truth itself. The Honorable Edith Materazzi had spent much time and money to get to the bottom of what happened but with little success-and little success was not something she was prepared to tolerate.

“Have they been treating you well?” asked the Honorable Edith Materazzi as she patted the sofa beside her and signaled with a warm smile that Riba should sit. Nervously, but also warily, Riba did as she was asked. She was already experienced enough in the social distinctions of Memphis to realize that something odd was going on-respect for the slightest difference in rank was insisted upon as if it had been ordained by God himself, and outsiders were treated with ridicule no matter what their status in the provinces. Riba had heard it said repeatedly of the Countess of Karoo, who had come to Memphis more than ten years ago, that she paid for the journey by selling her pigsty. This was a grotesque slander, as everyone well knew, because the people of the Karoo regarded swine as unclean. Why then, wondered Riba as she sat, was a woman of such eminence treating her with such kindness?

“First of all, my dear,” said the Honorable Edith Materazzi, “I am sorry that you were subjected to so much unpleasantness by Jane. It’s not an excuse, of course, but I was a friend of her late mother and there is no other word for it: she was spoiled, always given her way in everything. But, that’s the way of things now, children get everything they ask for and you can see the result for yourself. But there it is,” she said, sighing and patting Riba’s hand. “And I’m sorry for it.”

Riba was not certain what to say. “Yes, madam.”

“Good,” said the Honorable Edith Materazzi, as if pleased. “Now I want to ask you a great favor.”

Riba could barely believe what she was hearing.

“I have a daughter too, you know,” said the Honorable Edith Materazzi sadly. “And I worry about her.” She turned to Riba. “You have seen her?”

“The Mademoiselle Arbell? Yes, madam.”

“Ah,” the Honorable Edith Materazzi sighed softly as if speaking of a distant memory. “She is so beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Yes, madam.”

Now the Honorable Edith Materazzi picked up Riba’s hand.

“Now I want to take you into my confidence and also to help you because I feel that you are a girl with a kind heart and to be trusted with the concerns of a mother. Is that so, Riba?”

“Yes, madam, I hope so,” replied the startled girl.

“Yes, I think so,” said the Honorable Edith Materazzi, as if she had looked into Riba’s soul and seen only kindness and a deep appreciation of maternal disquiet.

“We must speak of things that are difficult for me-but being a mother comes before pride, as I’m sure you’ll discover for yourself one day.” She sighed. “My husband hates me and does everything he can to stop me from seeing my daughter. What do you think of that?”

Riba’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“I think it is very sad, madam.”

“And so it is. He prevents my seeing her and poisons her against me. But I cannot defend myself, because if she were to take sides against the Marshal, it would destroy her future prospects. This I cannot do. So, Riba, I must endure. My own daughter, whom I love, I must endure her belief that I am cold and distant and care nothing for her. What do you think of that?”

“I…” Riba hesitated. “I think it must be terrible for you.”

“It is. But you can help me.”

Riba’s eyes opened still farther, but she was unable to think of a reply.

“I have heard that you are an excellent companion and a beautifier of wonderful skill.”

“Thank you, madam.”

“Everyone talks about how your talents have transformed that ungrateful madam, Jane. She was no great beauty, if truth be told, but you have almost made her one.”

“Thank you, madam.”

There was a pause.

“Now, what I want you to do is this, and it will help you to a great place besides. I have arranged for you to become the beautifier to my daughter.”

“Oh,” said Riba.

The Honorable Edith Materazzi smiled.

“Oh, indeed. Is it not a great thing?”

“Yes, madam.”

“I know you will do well. And all I ask of you are two things, though. It will be hard for you to do one of them because I can see you are a good girl and honest.” She looked at Riba, who was already waiting for the catch in all this. “I’m asking you not to reveal to my daughter that you are coming to her through me.” She clasped Riba’s hand tightly as if she was desperately smothering an entirely natural protest. “I know this seems wrong and I understand, but it is only because she will refuse you otherwise. To do a great right it is sometimes necessary to do a little wrong. All I want from time to time is for you to come and tell me how she is, what she talks about, anything that worries her. Just the little things, the things that a daughter would tell a mother who loves her. Could you do that, Riba?”

Of course she could, and besides, what else was she to do? She entered into this contract with the Honorable Edith Materazzi, and if she did not entirely believe her, what difference did that make? There was no real choice for Riba, and they both knew it.

His Holiness the Redeemer Bosco sat on his balcony and looked down at the soldiers moving beneath him as far as the eye could see, filling the vastness of their Sanctuary. Men shouted, mules brayed, horses snorted and were sworn at by their handlers. The sights and sounds of so much preparation pleased him-the commencement, after all, of his life’s ambition. He took another sip of his soup, a favorite: chickens’ feet and a green vegetable known as asswipe in Memphis, where it was prized only for its usefulness and not its value as food.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

It was Redeemer Stape Roy.

“You wished to see me, Your Devoutness.”

“I want you to take twenty Redeemers and try to kill Arbell Materazzi.”

“But, Your Holiness, that’s impossible!” protested Stape Roy.

“I’m well aware of that. If it were possible, I wouldn’t be sending you.”

Irritated and afraid, Stape Roy nevertheless restrained an impulse to ask Bosco to say what he damn well meant.

“You are angry with me, Redeemer Stape Roy.”

“I serve at your pleasure, Your Devoutness.”

Bosco stood up and signaled to the Redeemer to come over to a table on which lay a map of the fortifications of Memphis.

“You were at the siege of Voorheis, weren’t you?”

“Yes, Your Devoutness.”

“How long did it take before it fell?”

“Nearly three years.”

Bosco gestured to the map of the Memphis fortifications.

“How long, as an experienced man, do you think it would take to raze Memphis?”

“Longer.”

“How much longer?”

“Very much longer.”

Bosco turned and looked at him.

“We could waste ourselves, great as we are, trying to take Memphis by force, which is why it will not happen. Have you heard the rumors about why we attempted to kidnap Arbell Materazzi?”