Helliconia: Helliconia Spring, Helliconia Summer, Helliconia Winter (136 page)

‘This young person was apprehended by his majesty’s agents in the seaport of Ottassol, in Borlien,’ said Crispan Mornu. ‘He proved difficult to track down, since he posed sometimes as a Madi, adopting their habits and style of dress. He is, however, human. His name is RobaydayAnganol. He is the son of the accused, and his wildness is widely talked of.’

‘Did you murder the late Princess Simoda Tal?’ demanded the judge, in a voice like tearing parchment.

Robayday burst into a fit of weeping, during which he was heard to say that he had murdered nobody, that he had never been to Oldorando before, and that he wanted only to be left in peace to lead his own miserable life.

‘Did you not carry out the murder at the instigation of your father?’ demanded Crispan Mornu, making each word sound like a small axe descending.

‘I hate my father! I fear my father! I would never do his bidding.’

‘Why then did you murder the Princess Simoda Tal?’

‘I didn’t. I didn’t. I am innocent, I swear.’

‘Whom did you murder?’

‘I have murdered no one.’

As though these were the very words he had waited all his life to hear, Crispan Mornu raised a mottled hand high in the air and brought up his nose until it shone in the light as if honed.

‘You hear this youth claim he has murdered no one. We call a witness who will prove him a liar. Bring in the witness.’

A young lady entered the court, moving freely if nervously between two guards. She was directed to take a stance beneath the judge’s platform, while those in the court regarded her avidly. Her beauty and youth were appealing. Her cheeks were brightly painted. Her dark hair was strikingly dressed. She wore a tight-fitting chagirack, the floral pattern of which emphasised her figure. She stood with one hand on her hip, slightly defiant, and managed to look at once innocent and seductive.

Judge Kimon Euras curved his alabaster skull forward and was perhaps rewarded by a glimpse down into her zona, for he said in a more human tone than had so far been the case, ‘What is your name, young woman?’

She said in a faint voice, ‘Please, AbathVasidol, usually called Abathy by my friends.’

‘I am sure you have plenty of friends,’ said the judge.

Untouched by this exchange, Crispan Mornu said, ‘This lady has also been brought here by his majesty’s agents. She came not as a prisoner but of her own free will, and will be rewarded for her efforts on behalf of the truth. Abathy, will you tell us when you last saw this youth, and what the circumstances were?’

Abathy moistened her lips, which were already shining, and said, ‘Oh, sir, I was in my room, my little room in Ottassol. My friend was with me, my friend Div. We were sitting on the bed, you know, talking. And suddenly this man here …’

She paused.

‘Go on, girl.’

‘It’s too awful, sir …’ There was a thick silence in the court, as
if even the cooling herbs were drowning in the heat. ‘Well, sir, this man here came in with a dagger. He wanted me to go with him, and I wouldn’t. I don’t do such things. Div went to protect me, and this man here struck with his dagger – or horn, it was, you know – and he killed Div. He stabbed Div right in the stomach.’

She demonstrated daintily on her own hypogastric region, and the court craned its collective neck.

‘And what happened then?’

‘Well, sir, you know, this man here took the body away and threw it into the sea.’

‘This is all a lie, a lying plot!’ said JandolAnganol.

It was the girl who answered him, with a spurt of her own anger. She was more at home in the court now, and beginning to enjoy her role.

‘It’s not a lie. It’s the truth. The prisoner took Div’s body away and threw it into the sea. And the extraordinary thing was that a few days later it returned, the body I mean, packed in ice, to Ottassol, because I saw it in the house of my friend and protector, Bardol CaraBansity – later to become the king’s chancellor for a while.’

JandolAnganol emitted a strangled laugh and appealed direct to the judge. ‘How can anyone believe such an impossible story?’

‘It’s not impossible, and I can prove it,’ Abathy said boldly. ‘Div had a special jewel with three moving faces with figures, a timepiece. The figures were alive. Div kept it in a belt round his waist.’ She indicated the area she meant on her own anatomy, and again the collective neck was craned. ‘That same jewel turned up at CaraBansity’s and he gave it to his majesty, who probably has it now.’ She pointed her finger dramatically at JandolAnganol.

The king was visibly taken aback and remained silent. The timepiece lay forgotten in his tunic pocket.

He recalled now, all too late, how he had always feared the timepiece as an alien thing, a thing of science to be mistrusted. When BillishOwpin, the man who claimed to have come from another world, had offered him the timepiece, JandolAnganol had thrown it back to him. Mysteriously, it had returned later through the agency of the deuteroscopist. Despite his intentions, he had never rid himself of it.

Now it had betrayed him.

He could not speak. An evil spell had descended on him: that he saw, but could not say when it had begun. Not all his dedication to Akhanaba had saved him from the spell.

‘Well, Your Majesty, well, brother,’ said Sayren Stund, with relish, ‘have you this jewel with living figures?’

JandolAnganol said faintly, ‘It is intended as a wedding gift for the Princess Milua Tal …’

A hubbub broke out in court. People dashed here and there, clerics called for order, Sayren Stund covered his face in order to hide his triumph.

When order was restored Crispan Mornu put another question to Abathy. ‘You are sure this young man, RobaydayAnganol, son of the king, is the man who murdered your friend Div? Did you ever see him again?’

‘Sir, he was a great nuisance to me. He would not go away. I don’t know what would have happened to me if your men hadn’t arrested him.’

A short silence prevailed in court while everyone contemplated what might have happened to such an attractive young lady.

‘Let me put one last and rather personal question to you,’ Crispan Mornu said, fixing Abathy with his corpselike stare. ‘You are evidently a low-born woman, and yet you seem to have well-connected friends. Rumour mentions your name with that of a certain Sibornalese ambassador. What do you say to that?’

‘Shame,’ said a voice from the court benches, but Abathy answered in an untroubled way, ‘I did have the pleasure of knowing a Sibornalese gentleman, sir. I like the Sibornalese for their good manners, sir.’

‘Thank you, Abathy, your testament has been invaluable.’ Crispan Mornu managed a moue which resembled a stiletto’s smile. He then turned to the court, speaking only when the girl had left.

‘I submit that you need no further proof. This innocent young girl has told us all we need to know. His lies to the contrary, the King of Borlien’s son is revealed as a murderer. We have heard how he murdered in Ottassol, presumably at his father’s instruction, merely to obtain some bauble to bring here. His preferred
weapon was a phagor horn; he had already murdered Simoda Tal, using the same weapon. His father was left to proceed here to enjoy our hospitality, to carry out his evil designs upon his majesty’s sole remaining daughter. We have uncovered here as black a plot as ever history related. I have no hesitation in demanding – on behalf of the court, and on behalf of our whole nation – the death penalty for both father and son.’

RobaydayAnganol’s defiance had collapsed as soon as Abathy had entered the court. He looked no more than an urchin, and his voice sank to a whisper as he said, ‘Please let me go free. I’m made for life, not death, for some wild plot where the breeze blows. I have no wild plot with my father – that I deny, and all other charges.’

Crispan Mornu swung dramatically about and confronted the youth.

‘You still deny the murder of Simoda Tal?’

Robayday moistened his lips. ‘Can a leaf kill? I’m merely a leaf, sir, caught in the world’s storm.’

‘Her Majesty Queen Bathkaarnet-she is prepared to identify you as a visitor to this palace a while ago, when you came disguised as a Madi for the express purpose of committing the foul deed. Do you wish her majesty to come to this court to identify you?’

A violent trembling took Robayday. ‘No.’

‘Then the case is proven. This youth, a prince, no less, entered the palace and – at his father’s command – murdered our much-loved princess, Simoda Tal.’

All eyes turned to the judge. The judge turned his gaze down to the floor before delivering judgement.

‘The verdict is as follows. The hand that committed this vile murder belongs to the son. The mind that controlled the hand is the father’s. So where lies the source of guilt? The answer is clear—’

A cry of torment broke from Robayday. He thrust out a hand as if physically to intercept Kimon Euras’s words.

‘Lies! Lies! This is a room of lies. I will speak the truth, though it destroy me! I confess I did that thing to Simoda Tal. I did it not
because I was in league with my father the king. Oh, no, that’s impossible. We are day and night. I did what I did to spite him.

‘There he stands – just a man now, not a king! Yes, just a man, while my mother remains the queen of queens. I, in league with him? I would no more kill for his sake than I would marry for his sake … I declare the villain innocent. If I must die your dingy death, then never let it be said even in here that I was in league with him. I wish there was a league between us. Why help one who never helped me?’

He clutched his head as if to wrench it from his shoulders.

In the silence following, Crispan Mornu said coldly, ‘You might have done your father more harm by keeping silent.’

Robay gave him a cold sane look. ‘It’s the principle of evil in men I fear – and I see that principle more rampant in you than in that poor man burdened with the crown of Borlien.’

JandolAnganol raised his eyes to the ceiling, as if trying to detach himself from earthly events. But he wept.

With the sound of rippling parchment, the judge cleared his throat.

‘In view of the son’s confession, the father is of course shown to be blameless. History is full of ungrateful sons … I therefore pronounce, under the guidance of Akhanaba, the All-Powerful, that the father go free and the son be taken from here and hanged as soon as it suits the convenience of his majesty, King Sayren Stund.’

‘I will die in his stead and he can reign in my stead.’ The words came from JandolAnganol, spoken in a firm voice.

‘The verdict is irreversible. Court dismissed.’

Above the shuffle of feet came Sayren Stund’s voice.

‘Remember, we refresh ourselves now, but this afternoon comes a further spectacle, when we hear what King JandolAnganol’s ex-chancellor, SartoriIrvrash, has to say to us.’

The drama of the court and the humiliation of JandolAnganol had been watched by a greater audience than the king could have imagined
.

The personnel of the Avernus, however, were not entirely occupied by the story in which the king played a conspicuous part. Some scholars studied developments taking place elsewhere on the planet, or continuities in which the king played merely an incidental role. A group of learned ladies of the Tan family, for instance, had as their subject the origins of long-standing quarrels. They followed several quarrels through generations, studying how the differences began, were maintained, and were eventually resolved. One of their cases concerned a village in Northern Borlien through which the king had passed on his way to Oldorando. There the quarrel originally concerned whether pigs belonging to two neighbours should drink at the same brook. The brook had gone and so had the pigs, yet two villages existed at the spot locked in hatred and still referring to the killing of neighbours as ‘hog-sticking’. King JandolAnganol, by passing with his phagors through one village and not the other, had exacerbated the feud, and a youth had had a finger broken in a brawl that night
.

Of that, the learned Tan ladies were as yet unaware. All their records were automatically stored for study, while they at present worked over a chapter in their quarrel which had taken place two centuries ago; they studied videos of an incident of indecent exposure, when an old man from one of the villages had been mobbed by men from the other village. After this squalid incident, someone had composed a beautiful dirge on the subject, which was still sung on festive occasions. To the learned Tan ladies, such incidents were as vital as the king’s trial – and of more significance than all the austerities of the inorganic
.

Other groups studied matters even more esoteric. Phagor lines of descent were particularly closely watched. The question of phagor mobility, baffling to the Helliconians, was by now fairly well understood on the Avernus. The
ancipitals had ancient patterns of behaviour from which they were not easily deflected, but those patterns were more elaborate than had been supposed. There was a kind of ‘domestic’ phagor which accepted the rule of man as readily as the rule of a kzahhn; but hidden from the eyes of men was a much more independent ancipital which survived the seasons much as its ancestors had done, taking what it would and moving on: a free creature, unaffected by mankind
.