Word of Honour

Very convenient.

'Your company should be flooded with orders,' Sir Darius said to Rokeby-Taylor, 'once word of this gets around.'

'I should hope so.'

'And to that end, you won't need my financial support.'

'Well, I suppose not. But I'd like to have you on board, so to speak.'

'I don't think so. Now, Aubrey, we have a matter to attend to.'

Rokeby-Taylor took Sir Darius's arm. 'Before you go, in the boardroom, you were about to offer me some advice.'

'Of course. It's just this: don't ever approach me again with anything that has the remotest hint of impropriety about it.'

Rokeby-Taylor considered this, then brightened. 'Of course not, Darius. Why would I? Now, I really must see the governors. They should be around here somewhere.'

He rushed off, slipping through the crowd that had once again populated the chamber, going about their business as though nothing had happened. The buzz of transactions, the scratching of pen on paper and the rustle and clink of money melded into a sound that was the hum of commerce.

'Will the Prime Minister be needing a room?' Sir Norman appeared at Sir Darius's elbow, looking neat and tidy, with no sign of having been a hostage in a bank robbery drama only a few minutes ago. Aubrey thought it a wonderful characteristic of the Albionite bank manager, the ability to appear unfazed by events that would necessitate most people having a good lie down.

'Of course, Sir Norman. I have another matter that needs discharging. Please bring my deposit box.'

Sir Norman straightened, enthused. 'In an instant, Prime Minister!' He cast around then pointed at one of the uniformed doorman. 'Eames.'

'Nolan, sir.'

'Nolan. Please show the Prime Minister to the Vault Room.'

The doorman ushered them briskly across the main chamber to a staircase. He took them down three flights, deep into the bowels of the bank, to a barred metal door where two guards scrutinised all three of them before using their keys in the lock.

Nolan took them along a narrow corridor. He ignored the many side doors and went directly to the door at the end.

He thumped on the solid, riveted steel and a small peephole slid open. An eye studied him for a moment, then the door was unlocked. 'I'll wait for you here, sirs,' Nolan chirped. 'Collins will take care of you until Sir Norman gets here.'

Apparently, this meant that they sat at a long mahogany table while Collins – a huge guard with a missing ear – watched them with a gaze laden with what Aubrey decided was occupational hostility.

The table wasn't quite as large as the boardroom table, but it would have seated a dozen large people with room to spare. A vase of camellias sat on one end of the table while a crystal water carafe and glasses rested on a silver tray at the other end.

The Vault Room was a misnomer. The large room actually had four massive steel doors leading to vaults. It also had a singular feature. One corner of the Vault Room was taken up by a large, irregular rock. In the austere surroundings, its gnarled and rough surface was spectacularly out of place. The walls were built around it, fitting snugly, so that it looked as if it protruded from outside.

The guard saw Aubrey's curious look. 'That's the Old Man of Albion.'

'The rock?'

'Found it when they excavated the foundations. They could have broken it up, but someone decided to leave it. Part of the bank, it is.'

Sir Darius strolled across the room and inspected it, smiling. 'It's not just any rock, is it, Collins?'

'No sir, that it isn't. It's part of the Bank of Albion. The bank's built on it, to put it another way.'

'Every governor of the Bank of Albion must take his oath while resting a hand on it,' Sir Darius said to Aubrey. 'And it's part of the Counting of the Coins.'

'That's right' Collins said. 'The King will be here in two weeks' time. He has to bless the gold of the land, as all the Kings and Queens have done, ever since ever.' Collins pointed. 'See there, that worn spot? That's where the King rests his foot while he blesses the coins and bullion. Then they're fit to go into circulation.'

'One of our nation's quaintest, and oldest, ceremonies,' Sir Darius said. 'Vitally important, of course.'

Aubrey wrinkled his brow. 'Sounds a bit silly to me.'

'In some ways, it is silly. In other ways, it's one of the ties that bind us. The rituals, great and small, are markers, items of familiarity that bring us together. Repeating something that comes from our collective history reminds us where we've come from, and who we are.'

Collins, the guard, looked at Sir Darius and nodded slowly. 'That's it, sir, right enough. The bank wouldn't be the bank without the Old Man of Albion, and the money of Albion wouldn't be the same without the Counting of the Coins. We all know it's old-fashioned, but it makes us think a bit, now and then. That's a good thing.'

'You're a lucky man,' Sir Darius said, 'being this close to part of Albion's heritage.'

'Same as you, sir, sitting in Parliament all day. Must be dozens of bits of heritage just lying around there.'

Sir Darius blinked. 'I suppose you're right. I'd never thought about that before.'

He laughed and Collins chuckled along with him.

Aubrey had seen it before, but the change in Collins from hostility to respect was another example of why his father was the leader he was. A few words, some honest understanding of what motivated people, a lack of pretension, and Sir Darius had gained another supporter. Aubrey could hear Collins in the pub tonight: 'Say what you like about the Prime Minister. I've met him, and he's straight up. Doesn't talk down, and he's willing to listen.'

One of the many goals Aubrey had set himself was to be as good a leader as his father. He couldn't do it in the same way – he had a horror of being seen as a pale imitation. He had to shape his own style. He just hadn't quite worked out what that was.

Sir Norman arrived with the deposit box. It was grey metal, the size of a small suitcase. The governor needed both arms to carry it, but the box didn't seem to be heavy. He placed it in front of Sir Darius and once the ledger had been signed, he backed out of the room, taking Collins and closing the door behind him.

Sir Darius drummed his fingers for a moment. Then he found a key in his jacket. He unlocked the box and took out a small, blue velvet bag. 'This belongs to you, Aubrey. It's time for you to have it.'

Aubrey saw that the bag was worn at one corner, and the drawstring a little frayed. He hesitated. 'Sir?'

'Take it.'

The bag was light, but lumpy. Carefully, Aubrey loosened the string. He held out his palm and shook the bag, very gently.

A deep red gemstone tumbled out and sat in his hand. It was the size of his thumbnail. 'Thank you,' Aubrey said, in his awe unable to summon anything more profound.

'It's the Brayshire Ruby. A family heirloom.'

'But shouldn't it be yours?'

'It's a Leap Legacy. It skips a generation. Your grandfather had it, now it's your turn.'