“Nobody is in the palace at present,” MyrdemInggala said, “except for me and the Princess TatromanAdala. You may kill us now, and there will be no witnesses except the All-Powerful.”
“We do not intend to hurt you, madam,” said Esomberr. He walked over to one of the windows and opened the shutters. Turning in the dusty light, he saw the husband and wife standing close in the almost empty room.
MyrdemInggala pursed her lips and blew out her taper.
JandolAnganol said, “Cune, as I’ve said, this divorce is a question of state policy.” His manner was abnormally subdued.
“You may force me to accept it. You can never make me understand it.”
Esomberr opened the window and called for his retinue and for AbstrogAthenat.
The ceremony will not detain you long, madam,” he said. He paraded into the centre of the room and bowed to her. “My name is Esomberr of the Esomberrs. I am the Envoy and Representative in Borlien of the Great C’Sarr Kilandar IX, the Father Supreme of the Church of Akhanaba and Emperor of Holy Pannoval. My function is to act as witness on behalf of the Father Supreme, in a brief ceremony. That is my public duty. My private duty is to declare that you are more beautiful than any representation of you could ever be.”
To JandolAnganol she said faintly, “After all we have been to each other…”
Continuing without altering the tone of his voice, Esomberr said, “The ceremony will absolve King JandolAnganol from any further marital ties. Under this special bill of divorcement granted by the Father Supreme himself, you two will cease to be husband and wife, your vows will be rescinded, and you will renounce the title of Queen.”
“Upon what grounds am I to be divorced, sir? What is the pretext? How has the revered C’Sarr been told I have offended, to be treated like this?”
The king stood as in a trance, staring rigidly at the air, while Alam Esomberr pulled a document from his pocket, flapped it open, and read.
“Madam, we have witnesses to prove that while you have been taking your holidays here in Gravabagalinien”—he sketched a sensuous gesture—“you have entered the sea in a state of nudity. That you have there consorted carnally with dolphins. That this unnatural act, forbidden by the Church, has been frequently repeated, often within sight of your child.”
She said, “You know this is a complete fabrication.” She spoke without fire in her voice. Turning to JandolAnganol, she said, “Can the state survive only by dragging down my name, by disgracing me—and by making you lower than a slave?”
“Here comes the Royal Vicar, madam, who will perform our ceremony,” said Esomberr. “You need only stand silent. No further embarrassment will be caused you.”
AbstrogAthenat entered, radiating the chill of his personality in the space of the chamber. He raised a hand and pronounced a blessing. Two small boys playing the pipes stood behind him.
The queen said coldly, “If this holy farce must take place, I insist that Yuli be removed from the room.”
JandolAnganol broke from his reverie to order his runt outside. After a small fuss, it left.
AbstrogAthenat came forward with a paper on which the words of the wedding ceremony were inscribed. He took the hands of the king and queen, making each hold a side of the paper, which they did as if hypnotized. He then read the bill out in a high, clear voice. Esomberr looked from one to other of the royal pair. They looked at the floor. The vicar lifted a ceremonial sword high. With a muttered prayer, he brought it down.
The paper bond they held was sliced in two. The queen let her half float to the wooden tiles. The vicar produced a document which JandolAnganol signed, Esomberr signing as witness. The vicar signed it himself, then handed it to Esomberr for its onward transmission. The vicar bowed to the king. He left the room, followed by his two piping boys.
“The deed is done,” said Esomberr. Nobody moved.
Heavy rain began to fall. Sailors and soldiers from the ships had crowded to the open window to catch a glimpse of a ceremony of which they could boast for the rest of their lives. Now they ran for shelter, and officers bellowed at them. The downpour increased. Lightning flashed and presently thunder broke overhead. The monsoons were approaching.
“Ah, well, we must make ourselves comfortable,” said Esomberr, striving for his usual lightness of tone. “Perhaps the queen—the ex-queen, excuse me—will have some ladies bring us refreshment.” He called to one of his men. “Look down in the cellars. The serving maids will be hiding down there or, failing them, the wine will be.”
Rain poured in the open window and the unsecured shutter banged.
“These storms blow in from nowhere and are soon over,” JangolAnganol said.
“That’s the way to take it, Jan—with a metaphor,” said Esomberr genially. He clapped the king on the shoulder.
Without a word, the queen set down her extinguished taper on a shelf, then turned and left the room.
Esomberr collected two chairs with tapestry seats and set them together, opening up a shutter nearby so that they could watch the fury of the elements. They both sat down, and the king put his head between his hands.
“After your marriage to Simoda Tal, I promise you things will take a turn for the better, Jan. In Pannoval, we are somewhat committed on our northern front against the Sibornalese. The fighting is particularly bitter because of traditional religious differences, you know.
“Oldorando is different. After your forthcoming marriage, you should find that Oldorando will commit themselves to your side. They have difficulties themselves. Or—and this is quite likely—Kace may sue for peace after the marriage. Kace, after all, has blood ties with Oldorando. Right through Oldorando and Kace runs the east-west migratory route of the phagors and of the subhuman races, like the Madis.
“Rrrhm, as you know, dear Simoda Tal’s mother, the queen, is herself a sub—well, a protognostic, let’s say. That little term, ‘subhuman’ is prejudicial. And the Kaci… well, it’s a wild place. So if they make peace with Borlien, we might even, who knows, induce them to attack Randonan. That would leave you free to deal with the Mordriat trouble, and the fellows with the amusing names.”
“Which would suit Pannoval well,” said JandolAnganol.
Esomberr nodded. “It would suit everyone well. I’m all for being pleased, aren’t you?”
His man returned, accompanied by peals of thunder and five anxious ladies who bore wine jars and were goaded forward by phagors.
The entrance of these ladies put a different aspect on affairs, even to the king, who got up and began to walk about the room as if just learning to use his legs. The ladies, finding no harm was immediately being offered, began to smile, and fell readily into their accustomed roles of pleasing male guests and getting them as drunk as possible as soon as possible. The Royal Armourer and various captains put in an appearance and joined in the drinking.
As the storm continued, lamps were lit. Other pretty captives were brought in and music was played. Soldiers under canvas canopies brought a banquet from the brig.
The king drank persimmon wine and ate silver carp with saffron rice.
The roof leaked.
“I’ll speak to MyrdemInggala and see my little daughter, Tatro,” he said, a while later.
“No. That would be inadvisable. Women can humiliate men. You’re the king, she’s nobody. We’ll take the daughter away with us when we leave. When the sea is calm. I’m for spending the night in this hospitable sieve of yours.”
After a while, to overcome the king’s silence, Esomberr said, “I have a gift for you. This is a good time to present it, before we are too drunk to focus our eyes.” He wiped his hands on his velvet suit and felt in a pocket from which he produced a delicate thin box with an embroidered cover.