Inversions

14. THE BODYGUARD

“Loose!”

The small catapult bucked, the arm — indeed not much bigger than a man’s outstretched arm — flicked forward and thudded against the hide cushion on the weapon’s tall cross-beam. The stone burred away through the air, arcing over the lower terrace and down towards the garden below. The projectile hit alongside one of DeWar’s cities, embedding itself in the carefully raked soil and kicking up a big puff of red-brown dust that hung for a while in the air, slowly drifting off to the one side and settling gradually back to the ground.

“Oh, bad luck!”

“Very close!”

“Next time.”

“Very nearly, General Lattens,” DeWar said. He had been sitting on the balustrade, arms crossed, one leg dangling. He jumped off on to the black and white tiles of the balcony and squatted by his own miniature catapult. He pulled quickly and powerfully on the round wheel which ratcheted the creaking, groaning wooden arm back until it settled about three-quarters of the way towards the horizontal rear cross-member. The arm bowed fractionally with the strain of the twisted hide at its base trying to force it forward again.

Lattens, meanwhile, got up on to the same stone rail DeWar had been sitting on. His nurse held on tightly to the back of his jacket to prevent him from falling. Lattens raised his toy telescope to his eye to survey the damage done in the garden below.

“A little to the left, next time, my lad,” UrLeyn told his son. The Protector, his brother RuLeuin, Doctor BreDelle, BiLeth, Commander ZeSpiole and the concubine Perrund sat attended by various servants on an awninged platform raised to about the same height as the balustrade and overlooking the scene.

Lattens stamped his foot on the stonework. His nurse held him tighter.

Perrund, veiled in gauzy red, turned to the Protector. “Sir, I’m sure the nurse holds him well enough, but it makes my bones ache seeing him up there. Would you humour one of your older ladies’ timid foolishness by calling for a step-ladder? It would let him see over the rail without having to climb on to it.”

Foreign minister BiLeth frowned and made a tssking noise.

UrLeyn pursed his lips. “Hmm. Good idea,” he said. He beckoned a servant.

The entire terrace of the garden two storeys below had been divided into two and modelled to resemble a landscape in miniature, with hills, mountains, forests, a large walled capital city, a dozen or so smaller cities, twice as many towns, many roads and bridges and three or four rivers flowing into a couple of small, about bath-sized lakes on each side and then on into a large body of water which represented an inland sea.

The sea was in the shape of two rough circles which just met in the middle, so that there was a short, narrow channel connecting the two great lakes. Various of each territory’s towns and cities lay on the shores of the two smaller lakes, with even more on the coasts of the two lobes of the sea, though in each case one territory had many more settlements round one part of the sea than the other, DeWar’s territory having the most round the lobe of water nearer to the balcony and the two catapults.

DeWar secured the triggering post on his catapult and carefully unhitched the winding mechanism, then selected a stone from the pile between the two model weapons and, once Lattens had climbed down from the balustrade, loaded the stone into the cup at the end of the machine’s arm. He repositioned the catapult according to chalk marks on the black tiles, stood, eyes narrowed, to survey his target area, squatted to adjust the catapult’s position once more, then took the stone out of the cup and reconnected the winding mechanism to let out a little of the strain before re-latching the triggering post.

“Oh, come on, DeWar!” Lattens said, jumping up and down and shaking his telescope. He was dressed as a noble general, and the servant who was tensioning and repositioning his catapult was in the uniform of a Ducal bombardier.

DeWar closed one eye and made a fearful grimace as he turned to the boy. “Har,” he said, in a voice a rather unsubtle actor might employ when asked to impersonate a worthy rustic, “beggin’ the young massur’s pardin to be sure, sor, but I has got to be doin’ me adjussmints, don’t ye know, har!”

“Providence, the fellow’s a fool indeed,” BiLeth muttered. However, UrLeyn laughed, and BiLeth found it in him to affect a smile.

Lattens squealed with delight at this nonsense and put his hands to his mouth, nearly sticking his telescope into his eye.

DeWar made a few final adjustments to his catapult, then, with a look round to make sure Lattens was well out of the way, said, “Fire, me boys!” and flicked the triggering latch away.

The rock whistled into the blue sky. Lattens howled with excitement and ran to the balustrade. DeWar’s rock landed almost in the centre of one of the smaller lakes in Lattens’ territory. The boy shrieked.

“Oh no!”

DeWar had already landed a hefty projectile in the other small lake on Lattens’ side, swamping all the towns and the single city on its shores. Lattens had hit one of DeWar’s lakes too, but not the other. The rock sent up a great tall fountain of water. The waves from the impact rippled quickly out, heading for the shore. “Aargh!” Lattens cried. The waves made landfall, causing the water first to retreat from the miniature beaches and ports and then rear up and wash against the flimsily made buildings of the lake-side towns, washing them all away.

“Oh, unlucky, young sir, unlucky,” Doctor BreDelle said, then in a low voice to UrLeyn added, “Sir, I think the boy grows over-excited.”

“Fine shot, DeWar!” UrLeyn called, clapping. “Oh, let him be excited, Doctor,” he said to BreDelle in a lower voice. “He has spent long enough swaddled in his bed. It’s good to see a bit of colour in his cheeks again.”

“As you wish, sir, but he is still not fully recovered.”

“Mr DeWar would make a fine bombardier,” Commander ZeSpiole said.

UrLeyn laughed. “We could use him in Ladenscion.”

“We could dispatch him forthwith,” agreed BiLeth.

“Things go better there, don’t they, brother?” RuLeuin said, letting a servant refill his glass. He glanced at BiLeth, who assumed a grave expression.

UrLeyn snorted. “Better than when they were going badly,” he agreed. “But still not well enough.” He looked to his brother, then back at his son, who was anxiously supervising the loading of his own catapult. “The boy grows better. If that keeps up I may take it as my signal to assume command of the war myself.”

“At last!” RuLeuin said. “Oh, I’m sure that would be the best thing, brother. You are our best general, still. The war in Ladenscion needs you. I hope I may accompany you there. May I? I have a fine company of cavalry now. You must come and see them train some day.”

“Thank you, brother,” UrLeyn said, smoothing a hand over his short grey beard. “However, I am undecided. I may ask you to stay on here in Crough and be my regent, in equal partnership with YetAmidous and ZeSpiole. Would you rather that?”

“Oh, sir!” RuLeuin reached out and touched the Protector’s arm. “That would be a singular honour!”

“No, it would be a treble honour, brother,” UrLeyn told him with a tired smile. “ZeSpiole? What do you say?”

“I heard what you said, sir, but I can scarcely believe it. Would you honour me so?”

“I would. If I depart for the borderlands. It is still not certain yet. BiLeth, you will advise my trio of proxies as well as you have me on matters foreign?”

BiLeth, whose face had taken on a frozen expression when he had heard what the Protector was proposing, let his features relax somewhat. “Of course, sir.”

“And General YetAmidous is agreeable?” RuLeuin asked.

“He will stay if I ask him to, or like you he will gladly come to Ladenscion with me. I could use each of you in both places, but that cannot be.”

“Sir, excuse my interruption,” the lady Perrund said. “The ladder.”

A wooden library step-ladder was carried forward by two servants and deposited on the balcony’s tiled surface near the viewing platform.

“What? Ah, yes. Lattens!” UrLeyn called to his son, who was still fussing over the degree of tension in the catapult and the size of rock to throw. “Here. This might be a better observation point for you! Position it as you see fit.”

Lattens looked uncertain for a moment, then appeared to take to the idea. “Ah-ha! A siege engine!” He wagged the telescope at DeWar, who scowled at the ladder as the servants brought it forward, closer to the edge of the terrace. “I have the measure of you now, bad baron!” Lattens cried. DeWar growled and retreated with comedic fearfulness from the steps as they approached.

Lattens climbed up the steps to the top, so that his feet were about level with the head of his nurse, who had remained on the balcony but followed him round as he’d ascended, watching anxiously. DeWar sidled up to the steps as well, glowering up at the boy.

“That will do nicely, bombardier,” Lattens yelled. “Fire when ready!”

The rock hurtled up and out and for a moment seemed to hang above the coast-line of the part of the inland sea which held most of DeWar’s remaining cities. “Oh no!” Lattens cried.

The rules were that each player could drop only one stone into the inland sea. Lattens and DeWar each had, accordingly, one very large stone apiece to be used for this very purpose in the hope of swamping a handful of his enemy’s cities with one strike. The stone Lattens had caused to be lobbed on this occasion was a medium-sized projectile. If it landed in the sea, especially in one of the shallower areas near the coast, it might do very little damage on its own while at the same time preventing the boy from landing his one big rock where it might cause the most destruction.

The rock whacked into a coastal city, causing a small splash from the harbour but sending up a greater cloud of dust and scattering splintered wood and bits of delicate clay buildings across the landscape and splashing out across the water.

“Yes, boy!” UrLeyn said, jumping to his feet.

RuLeuin rose too. “Well done!”

“Fine shot!” called BreDelle. BiLeth clapped decorously.

ZeSpiole thumped his seat-arm. “Magnificent!”

DeWar clenched his fists and let out a roar of anguish.

“Hurrah!” Lattens yelled and whirled his arms about. He overbalanced and began to fall off the steps. Perrund watched DeWar dart forward, then check himself as the nurse caught the boy. Lattens frowned down at his nurse then struggled in her arms until she put him back where he had been standing.

“Mind yourself, boy!” UrLeyn called, laughing.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Perrund said. Her hand was at her throat, just beneath the red veil, where her heart seemed to have lodged. “I thought he’d be safer—”

“Oh, he’s fine!” UrLeyn told her with a sort of jovial exasperation. “Never you fear.” He turned back. “Damn fine shot, lad!” he shouted. “More of those, if you please, then the great-grand-dad rock in the centre of his sea!”

“Ladenscion is finished!” Lattens cried, shaking his fist at DeWar and holding on to the projecting spire of the steps with his other hand. “Providence protects us!”

“Oh, it’s Ladenscion now, not the Empire?” UrLeyn laughed.

“Brother,” RuLeuin said, “I cannot think which would be the greater honour, to be at your side or to help rule in your place. Be assured I shall do whatever you ask of me to the best of my abilities.”

“I’m sure you will,” UrLeyn said.

“As your brother says, sir,” Commander ZeSpiole said, leaning forward to catch the Protector’s eye.

“Well, it may not come to that,” UrLeyn said. “We may have news by the next rider that the barons are desperate to sue for peace. But I am glad you both accept my proposal.”

“Gladly, brother!”

“Humbly, sir.”

“Good, so we are all agreed.”

DeWar’s next shot thudded into farmland, causing him to caper arid make cursing sounds. Lattens laughed and followed that with a shot which destroyed a town. DeWar’s next demolished a bridge. Lattens replied with a couple of off-target rocks but then hit a city while DeWar’s matching shots hit nothing but earth.

Lattens decided to use his biggest rock and attempt to obliterate most of DeWar’s remaining cities in one go.

“That’s the boy!” his father called. “Strike now!”

With much groaning and creaking from the coiled twists of stretched hide — and a few groans and whimpers from DeWar, standing watching — the arm of Lattens’ catapult was tightened to its maximum extension and sat arched with stored power.

“Are you sure that’s not too much?” UrLeyn shouted. “You’ll hit your own sea!”

“No, sir! I’ll put other rocks on as well as the big one!”

“Very well then,” the Protector told his son. “Mind you don’t break the weapon, though.”

“Father!” the boy called. “May I load it myself? Oh, please?”

The servant dressed like a bombardier was about to pick up the heaviest rock from Lattens’ pile of ammunition. He hesitated. DeWar lost his comical expression. Perrund took a deep breath.

“Sir,” she said, but was interrupted.

“I cannot allow the boy to lift such a large rock, sir,” Doctor BreDelle said, leaning close to the Protector. “It will put too great a strain on his system. His frame is weakened by the long time spent in bed.”

UrLeyn looked at ZeSpiole. “I’m more worried about the catapult loosing while he’s loading it, sir,” the Guard Commander said.

“Generals do not load their own weapons, sir,” UrLeyn told the boy sternly.

“I know that, Father, but please? This is not a real war, it is only pretend.”

“Well, shall I give you a hand then?” UrLeyn called.

“No!” Lattens yelled, stamping his foot and tossing his redblond curls. “No thank you, sir!”

UrLeyn sat back with a gesture of resignation and a small smile. “The lad knows his own mind. He is mine, all right.” He waved to his son. “Very well, General Lattens! Load as you will and may Providence guide the projectiles.”

Lattens chose a couple of smaller rocks and loaded them one at a time into the waiting cup of the catapult, panting as he lifted them up. Then he squatted, took a firm grip of the biggest stone and with a grunt lifted it to his chest. He turned and staggered towards his catapult.

DeWar took a half-step closer to the machine. Lattens did not seem to notice. He grunted again as he hoisted the rock up to his neck level and shuffled closer to the tensed arm of the waiting machine.

DeWar seemed to slide rather than step another stride closer to the catapult, almost to within grabbing distance of the boy, while his gaze concentrated both on the firing latch and on Lattens’ feet and legs as they edged nearer to it.

The boy teetered as he leant over the catapult’s cup. He was breathing hard, the sweat running down his brow.

“Steady, lad,” Perrund heard the Protector whisper. His hands clutched at the arms of his chair, the knuckles pale with their own loaded tension.

DeWar was closer now, within reach of the boy.

Lattens grunted and rolled the rock into the cup. It crunched on top of the two already occupying the scoop. The whole catapult seemed to quiver, and DeWar tensed, as though about to pounce on the child and tear him away, but then the boy took a step back, wiped his sweating face and turned to smile at his father, who nodded and sat back in his seat, sighing with relief. He looked at RuLeuin and the others. “There now,” he said, and swallowed.

“Mr Bombardier,” Lattens said, with a flourish towards the catapult. The servant nodded and took up his position by the machine.

DeWar had drifted back towards his own catapult.

“Wait!” Lattens called, and ran up the library step-ladder again. His nurse resumed her place beneath. Lattens took out his sword, raised it and then dropped it. “Now!”

The catapult made a terrific snapping noise, the one large rock and the two smaller ones sailed into the air in significantly different directions and everybody sat or leant forward to see where they would land.

The big rock missed its target, splashing into the shallows near one of DeWar’s coastal cities and showering it with mud but otherwise doing little damage. One of the smaller stones hit some of DeWar’s farmland and the other demolished one of Lattens’ own towns.

“Oh.”

“Oh dear.”

“Bad luck, young master.”

“For shame!”

Lattens said nothing. He stood, looking utterly crestfallen, at the top of the ladder, his little wooden sword hanging loosely in his hand. He looked back at his father with sad, dejected eyes.

His father frowned, then winked at him. The boy’s expression did not change. Silence hung under the platform’s awning.

DeWar jumped up on the balustrade and crouched there, knuckles dragging on the stonework. “Ha!” he said, then jumped down. “Missed!” He had already tensioned his own catapult, the arm bowed back to about the two-thirds position. “Victory is mine! Hee-hee!” He chose the biggest stone from his own supply, wound some more tension into the machine and put the rock in the scoop. He looked up at Lattens with a fierce, mischievous grin, which faltered only momentarily when he saw the look on the child’s face. He rubbed his hands and wagged one finger at the boy. “Now we see who’s boss, my young pretender-general!”

He adjusted the catapult slightly and then pulled the lanyard. The catapult juddered and the great rock whooshed up into the sky. DeWar leapt back on to the stone railing again.

The giant stone was a sailing black shape against the sky and clouds for a long moment, then it rushed back to earth and dropped with a titanic splash into the sea.

The water threw itself up into the air in a great explosive tower of white foam, then slumped back down and rushed out in all directions in a mighty circular wave.

“What?” DeWar screeched from the balustrade, putting his hands to the sides of his head and grabbing two handfuls of hair. “No! No! Nooooo!”

“Ha ha!” Lattens yelled, pulled his general’s hat off his head and threw it in the air. “Ha ha ha!”

The rock had fallen not into the lobe of the sea which was rimmed mostly by Lattens’ towns and cities but that which held almost all DeWar’s intact settlements. The great wave rushed out from where it had landed, a good couple of strides or so from the straits separating the two lobes of the sea. One by one it swamped the cities and towns by the water, flooding one or two of Lattens’ but destroying a great deal more of DeWar’s.

“Hurrah!” RuLeuin yelled, and threw his own hat into the air. Perrund smiled broadly at DeWar from behind the veil. UrLeyn nodded and grinned and clapped. Lattens gave a deep bow and made a rude, tongue-wagging gesture at DeWar, who had rolled off the stone railing and was curled up on the tiles by the side of the balustrade, thumping one clenched fist weakly off the tiled surface.

“No more!” he moaned. “I give in! He’s too good for me! Providence defends the Protector and all his generals! I am an unworthy wretch ever to have set myself against them! Take pity on me and let me surrender like the abject cur that I am!”

“I win!” Lattens said, and with a grin at his nurse he twirled on the platform and let himself fall backwards into the woman’s arms. She grunted with the impact, but caught the boy and held him.

“Here, lad! Here!” His father stood and went to the front of the platform, holding out his arms. “Bring that brave young warrior to me!”

The nurse duly delivered Lattens into his father’s embrace while the others gathered round, applauding and laughing and clapping backs and offering congratulations.

“A fine campaign, young man!”

“Quite splendid!”

“Providence in your pocket!”

“Well, well done!”

“— and then we could play the game at night, Father, when it’s a dark night and make flame-balls and light them and set the cities on fire! Couldn’t we?”

DeWar stood and brushed himself down. Perrund looked at him over her veil and he grinned and even blushed a little.