They used the High Speech for this ceremony. Forkbearded Arabia spoke first.
“Gloriana, who is Ishtar upon Earth, Goddess of Us All, Whose Name is Honoured in the World’s Four Corners and Whose Fame is Feared, Who is the Sun to Light our Days and the Moon to Illuminate our Nights, whose Splendour Dulls the Stars, We, Caliph Hassan al-Giafar, Descendent of the First Calligraphers of Sheena, Protector of the Raschid, Father of the Nomad, Chief of the Deserts, the Rivers and the Seas, Shield against the Tatar, Overlord of Baghdad and the Fifty Cities, bring thee the greetings and the felicitations of all our folk.”
The Queen rose, taking the sceptre handed her by Una and lifting it as if, obscurely, she blessed the Caliph.
“Albion welcomes thee, great King. We are honoured by thine attendance at our ceremonies.” She seated herself as Poland, fumbling with his cloak, his crown askew over one shaggy eyebrow, his hair falling across his face, his beard coming loose from its careful knots, blinked vaguely, his lips moving soundlessly.
“Um…” began Poland. “Your Majesty.”
Hassan al-Giafar’s handsome hooded eyes showed a hint of amused contempt as they looked upon his confused rival.
“Firstly-thank you-or thank your men-for my rescue. I am much obliged to you. It was foolish of me to trust those villains. I regret the trouble I have caused.”
“No trouble,” murmured the Queen. “But is there not some formal greeting, Your Majesty?”
He was grateful for the reminder. “Your Majesty, Queen Gloriana. Greetings from Poland.” He frowned. “I am-we are Casimir-Emperor Elect of Greater Poland-you know that, eh? Just announced. There’s a formal phrase, but I fear I’ve forgotten it-King of Scandinavia, what? And all the lands from the Baltic to the Black Sea. Great Jove! So I am. Well, it’s a Republic, of course. And a Union of Republics, essentially. Autonomous. But I serve my turn, I suppose, as a symbol. Oh, dear-I had a ring to give you. There are other presents…” He looked behind him. “The presents? It was a lovely ring…. Didn’t expect to have to appear in public like this. Rather shy of ceremonies. The presents…?”
The Caliph was snapping his fingers for his own gifts, carried by turbaned boys. Gloriana inspected the usual treasures (including a necklace of carnelians and gold) and accepted them with ritual thanks, while Poland spoke anxiously to his aide, old Count Korzeniowski, and sent him on an errand.
“There were also several elephants, Your Majesty,” the Caliph told her gravely, “but it was thought inadvisable to bring them onto the ice.”
Una smiled behind her hand, imagining the effect of so many elephants losing their footing and crashing into the waters of the Thames.
There was a pause, after the Caliph’s procession had come and gone. Casimir of Poland looked up. “Aha!” He waved. Another procession, of fur-clad footmen, with precious ikons and beautifully worked jewellery, lacking the magnificence of the Caliph’s gifts but carrying the stamp of artists’ perfection.
“There are some things missing, you see. Not much. We were lucky. But…” Casimir searched beneath his robes. “There was a ring. With a ruby. You might think it vulgar, of course. I had hoped…. However, there is a time and a place, I know-don’t have much in the way of formal ceremonies in Poland, these days-you must forgive me if I give offence….”
“The gifts are exquisitely beautiful, King Casimir.”
“They are, aren’t they! But the ring…. There was some fine Vienna stuff. Did that come? The ring. Gods! It’s lost!”
“The brigands…?” murmured Gloriana.
“The villains! The most beautiful of all my gifts.”
“We shall catch the leader, never fear,” she promised.
Lord Montfallcon cleared his throat to speak. “Her Majesty is grateful to both Your Majesties….”
Gloriana, recovering, nodded. “Albion welcomes thee, great Kings. We are honoured by thine attendance at our ceremonies.”
And chairs were fetched, almost thrones, for the two guests, both placed on the right of the Queen, and at angles so that one should not seem to take precedence, and the Countess of Scaith must smile and whisper and play host to the monarchs while the Queen received the rest of her guests:
Rudolf of Bohemia, the Scientist King, Casimir’s vassal; Prince Aleneon de Medici of Florenza, a youth whose chivalrous love for the Queen was famous; the Aztec ambassador, Prince Comius Sha-T’Lee of Chlaksahloo (who believed himself a demi-god and Gloriana a goddess) in golden feathers and feathered cloak; the Chevalier Presival-le-Gallois of Britannia; Oubacha Khan, in painted armour, iron and fur, envoy from the Tatar Empire; Prince Lobkowitz, in black and silver, from independent Prague; Prince Hira of Hindoostan, a protectorate of Albion’s; Lord Li Pao, ambassador from the Court of Cathay, another vassal state; Lord Tatanka Iyotakay ambassador from the great Sioux Nation, in eagle feathers and white beaded buckskins; the Lady Yashi Akuya, ambassadress from the Isles of Nipponia; Prince Karloman, the old King’s son, to represent the Low Country Alliance; Count Rotomondo, Overlord of Paris; Master Ernst Schelyeanek, astronomer and physician, of Vienna; envoys from Virginia, amongst them hawk-nosed Lord Kansas and the tiny, contentious Baron of Ohio; Master Ishan the Mathematician from the Tatar protectorate of Anatolia; Caspar, the great engineer of Jawa; the Palestinian scholar Micah of Jerusalem; the explorer Murdoch, Thane of Hermiston, a white cape thrown carelessly over his plaids and bronze, a bonnet with white hawk’s feathers jaunty on his red curls; and many more dignitaries, scholars, scientists, magicians, alchemists, engineers, adventurers and soldiers, taking more than an hour and a half to pass before the throne.
Then came the first entertainment, in torchlight, as the Ice Knight (Lord Gorius Ransley) and the Fire Knight (Sir Tancred Belforest) tilted in full armour, on horseback, on the frozen surface at the river’s centre. Chips of ice flew, the breath of the horses was like dragon’s vapour, metal rang as lance met shield and both were unhorsed at once.
Above them, on the embankment, leaning with elbows against stone to look down at this scene, stood a figure made shapeless by the huge bearskin coat clothing him from head to foot, the bear’s skinned head forming a cap which hid the greater part of his face. Sometimes, when the light from the bouncing flames (on which geese and oxen now roasted) leapt high, his black, sardonic eyes would gleam.
Fire defeated Ice, according to arrangement.
Now he watched as the skating tumblers in the costumes of the Comedy-Harlekin and Pantalon, Cornetto and Isabella and the rest-began to leap and spin in time to the brisk and somewhat discordant music of the shivering consort on the platform, while beneath the awning the Queen bent her head to converse with her fellow sovereigns. Pages, their feet steadied by spiked irons, moved slowly through the gathering, bearing trays of boiling wine; cooks and their boys basted spitted meat; and on the far bank a huge scaffolding was being erected.
The figure in the bear coat left the wall and moved gradually down first one flight of steps and then another, until it stood with the crowd upon the ice, sipping a silver cup of claret, admiring the children of the nobles, Frost Fairies all, who carried the monstrous Twelfth Cake on a litter to the Queen, taking the meat and bread that he was offered and cramming it with some relish into his mouth as he continued to move here and there, keeping more by instinct than by judgement to the shadows, to the fringes of the crowd. There came a cracking from the far bank, a rush like mysterious wind as the observers gasped, and the first fireworks began to fizz and spin, forming a great G in an ornamental panel; then rockets shrieked and scattered diamond sparks and the whole of the ice was stark with sudden brilliance, causing the bearskinned figure to retreat a little to a corner where wharf steps met wall. Flaring cartridges fell upon the ice, which hissed, causing alarm or feigned consternation amongst those who took heed of it.