Part 62 (2/2)
”Mixed up in what what? A science experiment?”
”In something that looks a bit dodgy.”
”I can't help it if it looks dodgy to an ignoramus to an ignoramus!”
”But you can can help that you are mixed up in it.” help that you are mixed up in it.”
”What do you mean, my lord?”
”I mean that your experiment is at an end, sir. It must stop. And the moment it has stopped, responsible persons, trusted by the King and the City alike, must go to this Clerkenwell Court, and to Bridewell, and into the vaults of the Bank, and inspect them, and find nothing nothing of what Mr. White has been talking of.” of what Mr. White has been talking of.”
”It could be stopped stopped at any time,” Daniel said, ”but to wind it up properly and cast away the residue is impossible in a day, or a week.” at any time,” Daniel said, ”but to wind it up properly and cast away the residue is impossible in a day, or a week.”
”How long will it take then?”
”October twenty-ninth,” said Daniel, ”is the date that has just been set for the Trial of the Pyx, the execution of Jack the Coiner, and the elimination of all doubt as to the soundness of his majesty's coinage. No later than that date, my lord, you'll be able to visit the places mentioned with as many inspectors as you might care to bring along with you-including even Sir Isaac himself-and you shall find nothing save Templar-tombs at Clerkenwell, hemp-pounders at Bridewell, and Coin of the Realm at the Bank.”
”Done,” said the Duke of Marlborough, and strode away, pausing to bow to a young lady crossing the terrace alone: the Princess of Wales.
”Dr. Waterhouse,” Caroline said, ”I need something from you.”
Roger Comstock's House 3:30 A.M., FOUR DAYS LATER (22 SEPTEMBER 1714).
DANIEL HAD BARELY GOT in the front door when the most exquisite body in Britain was pressed up against him, hard. He wondered, not for the first time, how the world might have been different had said body been united in one person with her uncle's mind. Not much was separating him from Catherine Barton; having been rousted by a most urgent message, he'd come over in his nights.h.i.+rt. in the front door when the most exquisite body in Britain was pressed up against him, hard. He wondered, not for the first time, how the world might have been different had said body been united in one person with her uncle's mind. Not much was separating him from Catherine Barton; having been rousted by a most urgent message, he'd come over in his nights.h.i.+rt. She She was wearing something diaphanous that he only glimpsed in the fraction of a second before she impacted on him. She smelled good: not an easy thing to accomplish in 1714. Daniel began to get his first erection since-since-well, since the was wearing something diaphanous that he only glimpsed in the fraction of a second before she impacted on him. She smelled good: not an easy thing to accomplish in 1714. Daniel began to get his first erection since-since-well, since the last last time he'd seen Catherine Barton. It was most inappropriate, as she was distraught. She was most certainly the sort of girl who would notice-but not the sort who would take it the wrong way. time he'd seen Catherine Barton. It was most inappropriate, as she was distraught. She was most certainly the sort of girl who would notice-but not the sort who would take it the wrong way.
She took him by the hand and led him back through the courtyard, round the fountain, and into the Ballroom, which smelled of oil, and was eerily lit up by the white-green glow of kaltes feuer: kaltes feuer: Phosphorus. A new thing had been added to the place. Seen from the entrance it looked like the rounded prow of a s.h.i.+p that happened to be made of silver, wreathed and festooned with garlands smitten of gold. Some manner of bas-relief Cla.s.sical frieze had been molded into it. A sort of ram projected up and out of the thing, explicitly Priapic; Daniel recoiled and edged round this, for its tip was like to have caught him in the face. Iron rings, straps, &c., dangled from it. Coming now round the side of the object he discovered that it sat between a pair of wheels, made of wood but covered in gold leaf. This solved the mystery of how so heavy an object could have been moved into the ballroom. It was nothing less than a chariot-a huge one, eight feet wide. It was, he realized, a Chariot of the G.o.ds. Coming finally around the open back of it, which faced towards the Volcano only a few yards away, he saw that the whole floor of the vehicle was a tongue-shaped expanse of Bed: as wide as the Chariot and ten feet long, upholstered in crimson silk and bestrewn with furs, and silk- and velvet-covered pillows in diverse glandular shapes. Sprawled in the middle of it was Roger Comstock, the Marquis of Ravenscar. A laurel wreath was awry on his bald head. Mercifully, his purple toga had not been altogether torn off, but the middle of it was poked up, producing a Turkish tent effect that echoed the shape of the nearby Volcano. But the Volcano, mechanism that it was, still pumped away faithfully, its hidden Screw sending spurt after spurt of Oil of Phosphorus down its slopes. Whereas Roger was, or had been, animated by what Newton would call a Vegetative Spirit, which had quite fled his body. The toga-lifter was rigor mortis. He'd have to be buried in a special coffin. Phosphorus. A new thing had been added to the place. Seen from the entrance it looked like the rounded prow of a s.h.i.+p that happened to be made of silver, wreathed and festooned with garlands smitten of gold. Some manner of bas-relief Cla.s.sical frieze had been molded into it. A sort of ram projected up and out of the thing, explicitly Priapic; Daniel recoiled and edged round this, for its tip was like to have caught him in the face. Iron rings, straps, &c., dangled from it. Coming now round the side of the object he discovered that it sat between a pair of wheels, made of wood but covered in gold leaf. This solved the mystery of how so heavy an object could have been moved into the ballroom. It was nothing less than a chariot-a huge one, eight feet wide. It was, he realized, a Chariot of the G.o.ds. Coming finally around the open back of it, which faced towards the Volcano only a few yards away, he saw that the whole floor of the vehicle was a tongue-shaped expanse of Bed: as wide as the Chariot and ten feet long, upholstered in crimson silk and bestrewn with furs, and silk- and velvet-covered pillows in diverse glandular shapes. Sprawled in the middle of it was Roger Comstock, the Marquis of Ravenscar. A laurel wreath was awry on his bald head. Mercifully, his purple toga had not been altogether torn off, but the middle of it was poked up, producing a Turkish tent effect that echoed the shape of the nearby Volcano. But the Volcano, mechanism that it was, still pumped away faithfully, its hidden Screw sending spurt after spurt of Oil of Phosphorus down its slopes. Whereas Roger was, or had been, animated by what Newton would call a Vegetative Spirit, which had quite fled his body. The toga-lifter was rigor mortis. He'd have to be buried in a special coffin.
”He was sworn in today as First Lord of the Treasury,” said Miss Barton-who, bless her, had the presence of mind to know that some some explanation was wanting. ”And so we celebrated the Rites of Vulcan.” explanation was wanting. ”And so we celebrated the Rites of Vulcan.”
”Of course you did,” said Daniel, who was crawling on all fours up the treacherous (because silky as well as oily) slope of the stupendous Bed, glancing up from time to time to navigate by the landmark of the Pole Star.
”It is a thing Roger liked to do, to celebrate a great triumph. The last last time was after he crushed Bolingbroke. The Rites are lengthy and elaborate-” time was after he crushed Bolingbroke. The Rites are lengthy and elaborate-”
”I had already inferred that,” Daniel said. He had finally got to the place where he could behold Roger's face in softly pulsing phosphorus-light.
”Just at the moment of the-Eruption-he suffered an attack-”
”Stroke, probably.”
”He said, 'Get Daniel! No Bleeders-I don't want to go out like King Chuck.' I ran out to send you the message. When I returned, he was-like he is now.”
”You mean, dead?” said Daniel. For he had completed the rite of checking for a pulse. It was superfluous-no man had ever looked more dead than Roger. But his engorged Member had raised doubts.
DANIEL REMAINED STRANGELY CALM UNTIL servants sledded Roger's corpse down to the Chariot's threshold, transferred him to a litter, and took him away. Even when he was dead, it seemed, Roger's presence had some chymical power to rea.s.sure Daniel, to make him feel sure everything would come out all right. But something in the way Roger's limbs tumbled as he was being moved, cruelly struck Daniel as proof that Roger's adroitness, his intelligence, his force were all flown. By the time the ballroom doors had slammed behind the retreating litter, Daniel had already begun to dissolve. servants sledded Roger's corpse down to the Chariot's threshold, transferred him to a litter, and took him away. Even when he was dead, it seemed, Roger's presence had some chymical power to rea.s.sure Daniel, to make him feel sure everything would come out all right. But something in the way Roger's limbs tumbled as he was being moved, cruelly struck Daniel as proof that Roger's adroitness, his intelligence, his force were all flown. By the time the ballroom doors had slammed behind the retreating litter, Daniel had already begun to dissolve.
The Chariot, as it turned out, had a cover: a sort of brocaded tarpaulin that could be drawn over its open top and rear, probably to catch dust and bird-s.h.i.+t when it was languis.h.i.+ng in Roger's stables awaiting a Triumph. This had been reefed and tied about the vehicle's rim with many ta.s.seled golden ropes. The Priestess of Vulcan went round undoing these, and presently unfurled the cover, and drew it down to envelop the whole bed. Daniel was sitting up in the middle of it, elbows on knees, hands clamped over his phizz, tears leaking out.
”I do not wish to live in a world that does not have Roger in it,” he heard himself saying; and then he thanked G.o.d that Roger was not alive to hear him talking this way. ”He was my Complement-my protector-my partner-my patron-it's almost as if he were my wife or something.”
”Or you his,” said Miss Barton. Having finished with this project of enclosing Daniel in the womb-like interior of the Chariot of Vulcan, she hitched up her skirts and knee-walked up the slope of the bed until she reached Daniel's side, then put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
”G.o.d! I really am on the wrong Planet henceforth!” Daniel exclaimed. ”What am I going to do?”
”Roger has made out the most exacting Will. He showed it to me. There is money for the Royal Society. For a Museum he wishes to have made here. For the Kit-Cat Clubb, the Italian Opera, and the Ma.s.sachusetts Bay Colony of Technologickal Arts.”
Daniel did not say what he was thinking, which was that for every a.s.set Roger could claim, there would be equal or greater liabilities. He had held his creditors at bay by amazing them, threatening them, distracting them, and drinking them under the table. But now, like ants swarming a defenseless carca.s.s, they would come.
Daniel pulled his hands from his face and made himself leave off blubbering. ”No. It is not that sort of thing I am thinking of. I have much to do before the twenty-ninth of October. Much to do! It seemed nearly impossible even when Roger was about to do most of it for for me. The others on the Treasury Commission are mountebanks and time-servers. So it is me. The others on the Treasury Commission are mountebanks and time-servers. So it is I I who must organize the Trial of the Pyx. What do I know of it? Nothing! Clerkenwell Court and Bridewell must be shut down, liquidated. The Inst.i.tute of Technologickal Arts has got to be considered dead-I'll send word to Enoch to sell the cabin. What else!? Oh, yes. The Princess of Wales wants me to help a dear friend of hers sort out her love life-which happens to be more fraught with dangers and complexities than, let us say, the foreign policy of the Venetian Republic.” who must organize the Trial of the Pyx. What do I know of it? Nothing! Clerkenwell Court and Bridewell must be shut down, liquidated. The Inst.i.tute of Technologickal Arts has got to be considered dead-I'll send word to Enoch to sell the cabin. What else!? Oh, yes. The Princess of Wales wants me to help a dear friend of hers sort out her love life-which happens to be more fraught with dangers and complexities than, let us say, the foreign policy of the Venetian Republic.”
”I am sorry to laugh, on such a sad occasion,” said the Priestess of Vulcan, ”but that that strikes me as most absurd!” strikes me as most absurd!”
Which Daniel might have taken in a resentful spirit, had she not begun to knead the tight muscles at the base of his neck and between his scapulae.
”In some things you are a very clever chap, or so Roger always used to say. But what would a man such as you know of affairs of the heart? Why, your muscles tie themselves up in knots at the very mention of these things! Roll over on your belly, sir, or else the oil will run down your back.”
”Oil? What oil!?”
”This oil...” oil...”
”Oh, my word!”
”That's better. Now I can straddle you-your b.u.t.tocks can take most of my weight-thus-and it becomes easier for me to reach those parts of you that are most in need of lubrication and a good stiff ma.s.sage.” better. Now I can straddle you-your b.u.t.tocks can take most of my weight-thus-and it becomes easier for me to reach those parts of you that are most in need of lubrication and a good stiff ma.s.sage.”
”Is this this how Roger did it?” Daniel said wonderingly, a long time later. how Roger did it?” Daniel said wonderingly, a long time later.
”No, Roger liked to get up on all fours like a-”
”No, no, no, Miss Barton. I meant something different. Is this how Roger managed to-to keep so many b.a.l.l.s in the air-as it were-and not go mad?”
”Now you ask me to speculate on matters quite beyond my scope, Dr. Waterhouse. Roll over on your back!”
”I was just reflecting that those affairs that so troubled my mind only a little while ago, seem to have quite fled my mind-oh, my goodness, Miss Barton!”
”It sounded as if your troubles were beginning to sneak back into your awareness,” she explained, ”and so I rather phant'sied some drastic action was called for.”
”What...what...what troubles, Miss...Miss...Miss Barton?”
”My point exactly. Tilt your pelvis t'other way, if you please, sir...there! Much better, you'll admit. Now, leave the rest to me, sir-the balance of this chariot can be a bit...tricky...the ride...a bit rough.”
Indeed, the axle-bearings of the Chariot of Vulcan presently began to creak as it got to rocking forward and back, forward and back, on its wheels. Daniel was old, and the ride was correspondingly long. But the primum mobile primum mobile-the Body of Miss Barton-was young and, as everyone in London agreed, in the most superb condition, and more than equal to the work. Daniel felt a-drift in Absolute s.p.a.ce, and phant'sied that the Chariot had worked its way out the ballroom doors, off the property, down Tottenham Court Road, and was gliding across the dewy turf of Lambs Conduit Fields...on and on...until suddenly it toppled down a well. He opened his eyes. It was over. She executed a back-somersault off of him, and rolled to her feet, poking up the tarpaulin with her head, and artfully stuffed a fistful of Roman priestess vestments up between her thighs.
”Perhaps your uncle knows something after all,” Daniel said. ”It seems so obvious, when one contrasts a dead Roger with a live Daniel, that there is something one lacks and the other has!”
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