Part 31 (1/2)

”Getting ready,” she replied.

She'd pulled out another, smaller table. It was neatly piled with rolled-up strips of cloth, tin basins, various incongruous tools-pliers, a hacksaw, a spread-out roll of needles. ”What's all this junk for?” he asked.

”Like I said,” she told him, ”I'm getting ready.”

And three books: two closed, the third open and face down, to mark the place if she needed it in a hurry. ”What's going on?” he asked.

”You don't know.”

”If I knew...”

She frowned. Such inefficiency. ”Uncle Marzo and Gignomai and a load of other people have gone to fight the met'Oc,” she said. ”I'm not entirely sure why, they wouldn't let me listen. I think it's because the met'Oc have given guns to the savages so they can attack us.”

He stared at her. ”Gignomai-”

”He made a speech,” Teucer said. ”He said something about his sister, but I couldn't hear enough to make any sense of it. Anyway, they've all gone off, so I thought I'd better make a few preparations, in case anybody gets hurt.” There was a sort of wild hope under her flat, calm voice that turned his stomach. After all, what better chance could she possibly ask for?

”When did they leave?” Furio asked.

She shrugged. ”Five hours ago, more or less. They've gone to the Tabletop. They took a couple of carts full of tools and Uncle's long ladder. I'm guessing Gignomai's going to show them the place where he got out, when he ran away.”

Furio stood perfectly still. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do now, he thought. Five hours. How long would it take him to run to the Tabletop? Not that he was capable of running that far; he'd be lucky to make it at a slow hobble. But there were horses in the livery. Of course, Ra.s.so would most likely have joined the posse, so the livery would be closed for business, so he'd have to break in and steal a horse, which was against the law. ”Are you going after them?” he heard Teucer say. It was one of her flat questions; she might just as well have been asking him what he fancied for dinner.

”I don't know,” Furio replied. ”I mean, what use would I be?”

”Gignomai's your friend. I'd have thought you'd have wanted to help him.”

No point in even starting to explain. ”Do you happen to know if Ra.s.so was with them? You know, at the livery.”

”I heard his voice,” Teucer said, ”at the meeting. So presumably yes. Why?”

She'd finished with the oilstone and was stropping the blade on one of Uncle Marzo's belts. You'd need the finest possible edge for surgery. He s.h.i.+vered. ”Thanks,” he said, and made for the door.

”You've hurt your ankle,” she called after him. ”Want me to take a look at it?”

He fled without answering and hobbled and skipped as quickly as he could down the street to the corner, where the livery stood. The main gate was closed and the bar was down, but there was no padlock in the hasp. No point stealing a horse in the colony, where everybody knew every horse, pony, donkey and mule by sight, along with who owned it. He chose a short-legged chestnut cob, purely because it was closer to the ground than any of the other horses, so less far to fall. He knew how to tack up a carthorse, but he'd never put on a saddle before. He was a lousy rider at the best of times.

He led it outside, lined it up with the mounting-block, climbed the two short steps and put his foot in the stirrup. ”Nice horse,” he said.

The first ten yards were fine, then the saddle slipped. He dismounted, and tightened the girth, which had been plenty tight when he'd put the saddle on. b.l.o.o.d.y thing must've been holding its breath, he rationalised. He led it back to the block and tried again. Gripping the pommel of the saddle with the fingers of both hands, he nudged firmly with his heels. The horse carried on ambling, like a prosperous citizen taking a turn round the square after dinner. He kicked harder, and harder still. The horse broke into a grudging trot, which threatened to hammer his spine into his head like a nail.

The earliest version of the met'Oc wedding ceremony to survive dates from the reign of the Sixth Emperor. Inscribed on four bronze s.h.i.+elds installed on the central pillar of the north transept of the New Temple, they are largely illegible on account of corrosion and the extremely archaic script in which they are written, but a transcript made in the fifteenth year of the Twenty-First Emperor survives in the archives of the Studium. The version generally used, up to the family's exile in the ninth year of the Fortieth Emperor, was the Seventh Revision, compiled on the orders of Lambanomai met'Oc on the occasion of his eldest son's wedding to Anser, youngest daughter of the Nineteenth Emperor in the last year of his reign. The Seventh Revision requires that the bride be brought in procession from her father's house, preceded by twelve Knights of Equity on white horses and accompanied by ninety halbardiers, who will in due course comprise her honour guard during her first three years of married life. The groom meets her on the steps of the White Temple, escorted by the Senate and the heads of the six Departments in military dress and representatives of the Studium, the Hospital and the three Orders Martial. The bride is permitted to wear the customary costume of her family, but the groom must be dressed in his formal regalia as Count of the Stables and Chaplain Domestic. The ceremony is conducted by the City Patriarch, a.s.sisted by the Provost of the White Temple, the bride's family chaplain and the met'Oc Chaplain-General. After the ceremony it is optional, but customary, for the groom's honour guard to distribute gold angels, struck with the groom's head on the obverse and the bride's on the reverse, to the crowds in Temple Square. These coins are recognised as legal tender by a special Act of Senate.

The met'Oc in exile used the Ninth, or Emergency, Revision for the wedding of Lusomai met'Oc. Dating from the sixth year of the Twenty-Second Emperor, it was compiled by government draughtsmen on the orders of the Senate to facilitate the wedding of Thanomai met'Oc to his cousin Pa.s.ser as he lay dying in his tent after the Battle of the Field of Roses, thereby ensuring the smooth transition of the family honours and properties to Pa.s.ser's brother, Lanthanomai, who served as Steward Regent until Thanomai's son by his previous marriage came of age. Since the Ninth Revision, of necessity, provided for a morganatic marriage, the terms were amended for Phainomai's wedding. Copies of the amendment were sent to the Senate for ratification, but no reply was ever received.

In the third book of his Commentaries on the House Law of the met'Oc, Commentaries on the House Law of the met'Oc, a copy of which, in his own hand, was lodged by met'Oc sympathisers in the Studium archives at some point before his death, Phainomai met'Oc came to the conclusion that the validity of the Ninth Revision depended on the groom being ent.i.tled to the status of a copy of which, in his own hand, was lodged by met'Oc sympathisers in the Studium archives at some point before his death, Phainomai met'Oc came to the conclusion that the validity of the Ninth Revision depended on the groom being ent.i.tled to the status of sun hoplois sun hoplois-that is to say, on active service as a commander of forces in the field, and therefore exempt from the formal requirements of certain aspects of matrimonial, property and testamentary law. Phainomai argued that the second son of the met'Oc in exile was, by virtue of his position as House Constable, inherently and permanently sun hoplois sun hoplois until such time as his elder brother succeeded to the family honours, maintaining that the perilous nature of the met'Oc's existence, surrounded on all sides by potentially hostile neighbours, meant that the Constable's service was, in theory and often in practice, continuously active. Nevertheless, quite possibly under pressure from Boulomai met'Ousa to ensure the irreproachable legitimacy of the marriage, Phainomai formally invested Lusomai met'Oc with an active commission against the colonists and the savages before allowing the bride to be admitted to the Great Hall for the public part of the ceremony. until such time as his elder brother succeeded to the family honours, maintaining that the perilous nature of the met'Oc's existence, surrounded on all sides by potentially hostile neighbours, meant that the Constable's service was, in theory and often in practice, continuously active. Nevertheless, quite possibly under pressure from Boulomai met'Ousa to ensure the irreproachable legitimacy of the marriage, Phainomai formally invested Lusomai met'Oc with an active commission against the colonists and the savages before allowing the bride to be admitted to the Great Hall for the public part of the ceremony.

To reflect this, the full-strength house garrison paraded in the courtyard throughout the ceremony. Lusomai protested about this, expressing grave concern about leaving the Gates and Doorstep unguarded. His father overruled him, citing the case of Coptomai met'Oc in the reign of the Fourteenth Emperor, whose commission in the Fifth Vesani War was retrospectively invalidated because two regiments of his army were not present in the encampment when Coptomai a.s.sumed his command. Phainomai's interpretation was supported by Boulomai met'Ousa, referring to the practice of his own family, and Gignomai met'Oc, who also drew attention to the fourth section of the Dispensations Dispensations, concerning commencement and transfer of commands. Lusomai gave way with his customary good grace, and ordered the muster of the garrison.

He had to stand on the raised platform at the far end of the Hall, next to Stheno and Boulo. He could see the back of Luso's head, and beyond that the faces of the two dozen or so farmhands and servants standing on either side of the strip of faded blue carpet along which the bride would walk. Off to the left, Father was waiting in the cheese store to make his grand entrance. He saw his mother in the front row. They'd let her have a chair to sit in. He couldn't see from where he was standing, but he doubted the chair legs were fastened to the floor.

Someone had made an effort. The sconces in the walls (no longer used; they made do with tallow candles these days) were draped with swathes of ivy and fir branches. Someone had knotted a rope of wild roses, twenty feet long, and looped it through the crossbeams of the roof, too high to be properly seen unless you stood with your head right back. It looked ridiculous and faintly sad, like children dressing up as people from history, using their imaginations but having to make do with what they could find in the hedgerows or the dressing-up basket.

His mother was staring at her feet. He hadn't seen her for months. If she'd looked up at him, it must've been when he was looking the other way. Stheno's boots were black and s.h.i.+ny with the stuff they used for blacking the fire-irons. He only had the one pair, but they'd come up really well. As for Boulomai, he looked like the rich kid at the party who doesn't fit in. His parents have had a proper costume made for him, while all the other kids are wearing painted paper armour and old sheets. There were oil-stains on his sash where a snapping-hen pistol usually rested, but he hadn't felt the need to come armed to his sister's wedding. He was picking at the b.u.t.tons on his tunic sleeve.

”h.e.l.lo, Cousin Boulo,” Gignomai said quietly.

”Gignomai.” Boulo frowned, looking straight ahead. ”Thanks for coming back. I know how much it means to your brother.”

”Well.” Gignomai glanced sideways at him. Less to Cousin Boulo than meets the eye. ”This is the sort of occasion when the whole family needs to be together. It's just a shame my sister couldn't be here.”

”I didn't know you had a sister.”

”She's away at school,” Gignomai said, ”back Home, under a false name. That's why we don't talk about her in front of strangers. But you're family. I guess the rule doesn't apply.” He was about to add, ”Ask Luso about her; he's got lots of stories,” but bit the words back. No point, and no need. Forgive me, he mouthed silently, as the nail forgives the hammer. But Boulo was still looking dead ahead, and didn't notice.

The Ninth Revision was silent on the subject of appropriate music, so Father had given orders for the house musician to play a solemn air on the rebec until the arrival of the bride, at which point he was to strike up the met'Oc march. This was his debut performance (he usually worked for Stheno, doing odd jobs) and he was out of practice, or just not very good. The rebec was two hundred years old and had belonged to an emperor's daughter; its soundbox was cracked and two of the strings had gone soft.

I must watch all this, Gignomai told himself, and make sure I remember. This time tomorrow, I'll be the only one left, and I have a duty to posterity to bear witness.

The double doors at the far end of the hall opened, and the bride came through. At least, there was a figure dressed in a great swathe of material, and he a.s.sumed she was in there somewhere. Gignomai frowned slightly. He knew the contents of every trunk and box in the store rooms, the sculleries and the barns. He'd have noticed enough fine white silk to cover a hay-rick. She'd brought it with her, then, her wedding dress, and presumably not just on the off-chance. She looked lonely and barely human pacing slowly up the Hall. He guessed she was taking her time so as not to tread on the trailing excess of hem and end up flat on her face. It could just as easily have been a bear under all that veil, but n.o.body here had that sort of sense of humour.

Eventually she halted, like a s.h.i.+p drifting into harbour on a flat wind. Beside him Stheno coughed loudly, whereupon the cheese-store door opened and Father came out. He was an extraordinary sight, in the full formal court dress of an Elector of the Empire, complete with brocaded gown, wig and sword. He walked painfully, taking short steps. The costume was his father's, and Phainomai was several sizes bigger. He looked like a man wearing his wife's clothes for a bet.

Even in the Emergency Revision, the words of the ceremony were in the old language. There was a speech to begin with, a general address that lasted for as long as it takes to pluck a chicken. Then Luso was allowed to take two steps forward. He and Pasi knew their lines reasonably well, though since n.o.body in the room except Father could understand what they were saying, it didn't matter terribly much. Cousin Boulo kept his eyes tight shut until the last response had been given, then breathed a long sigh, which Gignomai a.s.sumed was relief. He knew how he felt.

Next came the reading of the settlement, and Gignomai stood up a little straighter, paying close attention. As her dowry, Pasi brought with her substantial estates in the northern and eastern provinces, together with the rents of three market towns and the benefit of four advowsons, and a number of turnpike roads, a merchant s.h.i.+p and a share in a mercantile consortium, a street of shops and two inns in the City. In return, the met'Oc settled on her a whole county in the southern province, a bell foundry, the benefit of government contracts in perpetuity to supply lumber, rope and chain to the Navy, the met'Oc town house and, very much an afterthought, all honours and possessions currently enjoyed by the met'Oc overseas. The deed was signed by Father, Luso and Pasi (a tiny pink hand struggled out of the cloth to take the pen), and sealed by Father with the Great Seal, after three goes at getting the wax to melt.

That's it, Gignomai thought, that's the fall of the hammer: going once, going twice, sold and delivered. He felt an unsettling flow of strength seep into his arms and legs, as though a lever had been thrown to connect him to the drive-shaft. He'd lost track of the time, but it didn't really matter. If they had to wait, so what?

His original plan had simply been to pretend to pa.s.s out, but he'd decided against it. Father was quite capable of leaving him lying there until the ceremony was over. So much simpler just to walk out, quickly, stepping in front of Boulo rather than Stheno, since his brother might make a grab and stop him. Even so, it proved extraordinarily difficult to make himself do it. You'll be in so much trouble later, yelled every instinct he had. But there wouldn't be a later. He took the first step, and the rest followed. He saw Father look round at him with murderous fury on his face; Boulo even took a step back to let him pa.s.s. Luso, the only one who might conceivably have guessed, was mercifully preoccupied.

Out through the side door into the boot-and-hat room, through that and into fresh air. The first thing he did was glance up at the sun, but it was masked in cloud. He had no idea what the time was. He looked back to make sure n.o.body was following him, then walked quickly across the stable yard, pushed open the rickety gate and broke into a run.

Even then he couldn't help grinning, thinking of himself as a boy, slipping out to go and meet his common friend from town. Different friends would be waiting for him this time, but it hardly signified. He was glad there wasn't enough time for him to linger and take a last look, which he knew he would have done, had it been possible.

He'd drawn them a map, but he wasn't expecting them actually to be there. He was, therefore, pleasantly surprised to see them-they were doing their best to keep out of sight, but they stood out like blood on snow-though the incongruity of their presence offended him before he'd had a chance to adjust his att.i.tude. They had no right to be here; trespa.s.sers on private land. That's all right, he told himself firmly, they're with me. They're my guests.

”What the h.e.l.l took you so-?”

”Quiet,” he snapped, and whoever it was, someone he didn't recognise, fell silent as abruptly as though he'd had his throat cut. ”The wedding's in full swing, they're all inside except the garrison, and they're standing to in the courtyard.”

”That's not what you said,” Ra.s.so interrupted; he was terrified. ”You said they'd all be in the house. We can't-”

Gignomai rolled his eyes. ”Can't you read a simple map? The courtyard's inside the main wall. The hall's right next to the wall. We can secure all three doors of the hall without anyone in the courtyard noticing, and we'll block the yard gate so the garrison won't be able to get through. They'll just have to stand there and watch; they won't be able to do a thing.” He turned his head and looked for Marzo, and found him. ”You brought the stuff I told you?”

Marzo nodded. ”Hammers, nails, a couple of saws. That's what you said,” he added. ”Isn't it?”

”That's fine.” Gignomai stopped to take a deep breath, like a diver who expects to be under for a dangerously long time. ”Right,” he said, ”follow me.”

He led them back the way he'd just come, and it felt all wrong. They were all scared half to death, as though he was leading them out of the fire and the slaughter, not in to start it. Luso'd wet himself laughing if he could see them, he thought. Some army. But there was n.o.body about, not in the home meadow, not in the stableyard. They filled the yard; there was barely enough room for them all. He thought what Luso would be able to achieve with his hanger, among so many frightened men, so tightly packed together. He didn't really care, but the thought disturbed him.