Gloriana

THE TWENTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER

Lord Shahryar of Baghdad drew off his pointed helm, causing its silver curtain to clash as he placed it I J beside his curved sword on the table in the tavern’s private room. It was almost dawn and he had been waiting for Quire for three hours; it would be their third meeting since their original bargain had been struck. Near the shuttered window the snag-toothed Tinkler, who now sported threadbare brocade and a crumpled ruff, drained the last of the bottle he had brought for them both but which the Saracen had disdained. “He’ll be here soon, my lord.”

“You know? It was I sent you the message of where to be.”

“I know my old master, the Captain.”

“It’s your new master who concerns me.” Lord Shahryar seemed nervous. “What shall you report, eh?”

“Lord Montfallcon gave me to understand that I carried on Captain Quire’s work. And so I served him. Now that Captain Quire is back, well, I serve the same master as he serves.” Tinkler, however, was uncomfortable. “I shan’t betray you, sir-it would mean betraying the Captain.” He scratched at his itching head.

In came Quire, hastily, a little short of breath. “There are disadvantages in being so close to the monarch.” He slammed the door shut, pushing back his cloak. As well as his usual black he now wore a wide red sash, knotted on the right. It was as if the lower part of his body was stained with blood, so unlikely was the sight. He placed his sombrero near the Saracen’s helm. “You prepare for war already, my lord?”

“This is court dress. I have been waiting a week in the Presence Chamber for audience with the Queen. Together with a large deputation from the Caliph, who is growing doubtful, Quire, about the success of our scheme.”

“He should not be. Everything progresses.” A wink at Tinkler. “You’re looking quite a gallant, Tink. Montfallcon’s gold?”

“He paid me your wages in full.”

“He’s generous. You should continue to serve him.”

“Not now you’re returned, Captain.” Tinkler became relaxed.

Quire seated himself opposite Lord Shahryar and put folded arms upon the table. “Forgive me if I seem weary. My duties exhaust me.”

Tinkler laughed coarsely. Lord Shahryar feigned suitable disgust and said: “I need more specific news. Matters seemed to move well, but now I suspect your plans stick. The death of the girl created all that you told me would be created. On Accession Day your plan could not have been better realized. But now there is silence from you and, save for Ingleborough’s death, which was to be expected and which achieved nothing (the page, by the way, is embarked for Arabia, a present for the Caliph), it is almost as if you had given up on us.”

“I have a handful of Privy Councillors with me. Upstanding gentlemen become besotted fops, who support every decision I encourage the Queen to make.” Quire lifted his lip. “Montfallcon is all but exiled, he is so disgraced, and the Queen will no longer listen to him, for she is convinced he is mad with jealousy. The Court divides into two main camps-those who share Montfallcon’s opinions and those who share the Queen’s-and further divisions are to be expected. The Progress is halted and so the Realm will not be reassured. The Perrotts continue with their fleet and shall soon sail against Arabia-giving you just cause for war, but also allowing you to hold off and make kindly terms (though you may have to defeat the Perrotts first, as well as those who choose to sail with them). There are enough, and more coming to the Perrott side, particularly nobles who feel slighted by the Queen’s refusal of their invitations. And there are details of other schemes I bring to fruition. And you are unhappy, my lord? If that is so"-a theatrical reaching for the hat-"then I can always find a fresh patron, and chance these advantages about.”

“You owe me your life, Captain Quire. And you swore you would serve my interests.”

Quire fell back against the chair’s rest. “But if I’m not serving them well enough, my lord, I see no reason why you should continue to employ me. Can any one man do what I have done? As Montfallcon almost singlehandedly built up the Golden Age, so am I destroying it. As, in all reason, it deserves to be destroyed; Myth is but another word for Ignorance.”

“How long, then? Before everything is ready?”

“Another month. By October the nobles will be glad of a marriage between Gloriana and Hassan, if it soothes their fears.”

“And what can I be doing for you, Captain?” eagerly said Tinkler, drunk on the talk he had overheard. “I could kill Montfallcon for you.”

“And throw suspicion immediately onto me? No-he destroys himself. I want you to continue working for him, Tink.”

“What? I can’t!”

“It’s best. You’ll bring me information I can use.”

“You don’t want me to come back with you, Captain, into the old partnership?”

“No. Serve Montfallcon in every way he tells you-only report to me when it is possible.”

Tinkler shrugged. “If you say so, Captain Quire.”

“Your position is perfect for us.”

“Very well, Captain.” He seemed to be sulking.

Lord Shahryar picked up his helmet. “Then what shall I tell my Caliph?”

“That the Queen’s bewitched by me, that she will do anything I say, that when the time comes I shall give her decisions which shall put her firmly into the marriage bed with him, though I know not what good it will do either-”

“Captain Quire!” Shahryar snatched up the curved sword. “You’ll make no offensive jests concerning my master!”

“I’ll make what jests I care to make,” said Quire coldly. “For my secrets are recorded, as always. And if I die, your plans are given away. If that were to happen, the Realm would unite at once. It would undo all our work. Thus, too, Lord Montfallcon fears to betray me. For years he has sustained the myth through lies and espionage, murder, torture and destruction of contrary opinion. If evidence should emerge-as I might allow it to do, at the right moment-that Gloriana’s golden reign is based as firmly on blood as was her father’s, then you’ll have a thousand nobles turning on her, snatching down the figurehead in the vulgar belief that they destroy the ship.”

“Quire-do you plan to trade these secrets for a crown?” Lord Shahryar slipped the scabbard into his belt. “Is that it? You deceive every one of us?”

“To become a King is to become a cripple, my lord-with all movement, all power, restricted. Even Hern was borne down by it. Why, at the beginning of his reign he had, like his daughter, many fine ideals. But as the weight crushed him, he gradually gave way to self-pity. He’s called a cynic for that. But a true cynic is one who controls the weak as well as the weakness in himself. Hern was controlled by both.”

“And you are not?”

“No, my lord. An artist demands freedom in which to accomplish his work. No King is ever free.”

“I hope you are not deceiving me in this.” The Saracen tucked his robe around him and pulled his hood over his helm. “I hope, also, your tardiness is not a result of any sympathy you feel for your new mistress. She’ll be happier when our Caliph marries her.”

“And it’s all the more important that she does soon,” said Quire with a grin, “for you have not told me every factor, have you, my lord? You deceive me a little and fear I do the same.”

“Deceive you? How?”

“The duel between Poland and Arabia was fought-on the ship. Count Korzeniowski told Lord Rhoone, who told me, as being closest now to the Queen, in case I thought she should know.”

“What of it?”

“Poland is badly wounded and returned home. His Parliament placed him under arrest and a new King was elected.”

“I’ve heard the same.”

“And the new King, who was the warlike Prince Pyat of Ukrainia (known for his inclinations and supported by Parliament), wants vengeance upon Arabia.”

“It was a fair tourney and my master won.”

“I believe you. Pyat, however, fears that if Arabia goes unpunished it will make her too much of a threat. There is some fear she’ll unite with Tatary”

“Impossible.”

“But you cannot reassure Poland sufficiently-for you have such large battle fleets in preparation. You stand to be attacked from two sides.”

“Then Albion would come to our assistance, under the treaty.”

“Aye-which would give Albion much trouble, but it would not show your Caliph as the Pure Knight, the Saviour of the Empire. Indeed, the roles would be reversed. The duel was foolish.”

“There was a question of honour.”

“There is no such thing. There is pride.”

“Self-respect, Captain Quire. But if you do not recognise that quality-”

“I have a great deal of it. It is not the same as pride. And pride could throw my plans and yours into a whirlpool, losing us everything. That is why you must have me bring all to a head quickly.”

“If you like.” Lord Shahryar made to shrug.

“And I suspect, my lord, that your head’s at stake, also, is it not?”

The Saracen’s black eyes grew hot. “And yours, Captain Quire, at very least!”

In a swirl of dark cloth he was gone out of the tavern room, leaving Quire and Tinkler staring at one another as old friends do who have become awkward and whose interests are no longer identical. Tinkler was untalkative. Then he said: “Is it true, Captain, that you’d bring Albion down?”

“You cannot bring a nation down so easily, Tink. I’ll merely change the structure a little. Gloriana and the Caliph as joint rulers over a great Empire. An Empire which will make enemies, of course, and require to expand itself-into Poland, Tatary the world.”

“So the future shall have much to do with war.”

“I should think so, Tink.”

“And what shall we do then, Captain?”

Quire drew his sombrero down over his eyes and smoothed back the crow’s feathers on the crown. “We shall thrive, Tink, in such a world.”

Tinkler, given this vision, could only look upon it with a shifting eye. He cleared his throat. “It would be a simpler place, in some ways.”

“It is the business of war to simplify, Tink. Most men prefer it, when it comes, because their lives are far too complicated. Peace throws men into a kind of confusion few of them have the strength to bear for long-responsibilities blossom. Most of the world is made up of weaklings, Tink-and in war they flourish. Oh, how the weak love to fight!”

He was on his way, blowing a kiss to his bemused and frightened friend.