The Sword and the Plough (23 page)

“Ah!” Old Seth said with a grin. “Some action
at last, eh sir?”

Then at once, he was serious, but the gleam
still dwelt in his eyes.

“Well now,” he resumed. “We’ll need to get
their photographs for the passes. That’ll be tomorrow morning at
breakfast. Shame you couldn’t have mentioned it to me earlier, sir.
We’d have arranged something for tonight.”

“
We only arrived this afternoon,” Caroline
said, smiling. She noted Old Seth’s intonation was similar to that
of the Trionians – prolonging the vowel sounds; quite different to
Earth speakers.

“Oh, and off again so soon,” the ageing
convict teased. He shook his head. “I expect it’s this dreadful
food.” He shuddered. “Ugh, horrible stuff,” he drawled.

“But how soon?” Lord Southern persisted
quietly.

“Well now, let’s see.” Old Seth paused,
rubbing stubby fingers across the white stubble of his chin. “First
the photos. Hmm, that’ll be tomorrow morning. Then I’ve got to find
look alike volunteers to take the place of your two here for the
head count.”

“Will that be difficult?” Caroline asked
quietly. “I mean, who can guess the fate of the prisoners in here.
It’s a lot to ask.”

Old Seth’s look became grave. “There’s some
real patriots out there, miss,” he said quietly. “Ready to do or
die for the cause.”

“Oh,” Caroline murmured. “They must be very
brave.”

“Aye miss, they’re brave and loyal to the
queen.”

“And once you have the volunteers, what
then?” Lord Southern queried, intent on getting Old Seth back on
track.

“
Hmm. Then comes the tricky part – getting
our people in past them guards there on the cage door.” He glanced
over at Lars. “Because your people’s pictures will be on our
volunteers’ passes.

“
Still,” he said, motioning in the general
direction of the guards. “These Megrans hate being here almost as
much as you do and apt to be lazy. So, they usually don’t pay much
attention to people going
in
, ’cause they won’t think why they should. They’ll
only check proper going
out
, and then the photos will match real good.” He
rubbed his nose. “Be ready tomorrow night.”

“What about getting them to Earth?” Lord
Southern insisted.

“Tomorrow milord. Don’t worry, I’ve got some
ideas up here.” He tapped his forehead. “Just one or two things to
sort out first.

“
Now, you’d better eat your stew afore it
gets cold, or them guards might notice us talking and decide to
investigate.”

* * *

The stew was thin and close to tasteless,
but it was hot and, as such, sustaining. By the time they had
finished and were ready to return their plastic utensils, Old Seth
had left and was supervising the departure of the food trolleys at
the cage door. Once again, the prisoners were goading the Megran
guards at the exit. It was the sole diversion they had in their
day.

Lars stood and watched the Megran guards
checking the trolley attendants as they made their way out. At the
cage door, Old Seth was watching too.

* * *

An uncomfortable night passed slowly. It
is difficult to sleep on a hard brick floor, impossible even,
particularly when two hundred others are suffering the same
hardship and making it known.

Eventually, however, breakfast time came and
Old Seth was true to his word. Many hands quickly passed a small
camera to a huddle of tall prisoners near the centre of the cage.
In the midst of the group Lars and Caroline sat waiting, hidden
from view.

The photographs taken, head and shoulders
against the blue background of a woman’s dress, the camera was
passed back as swiftly as it had come, to disappear under a stack
of used bowls.

The day passed slowly, and yet the evening
meal seemed soon upon them, the clash and clatter of pots, the
sudden reality. Lars felt his mouth go dry.

The cage door opened and the first trolleys
rumbled in bringing with them the warmth and smells of the kitchen.
Lars and Caroline stood near the edge of the crowd and watched. The
guard on the door studied each trusty and matched each pass.
Another two guards stood close by, Merediths drawn.

“It’ll never work!” Caroline muttered. “Look
how closely he’s checking each one.”

“Of course it will,” Lars replied, pretending
more confidence than he felt. “It’s so simple, it just has to work.
Besides,” he grinned at her. “What guard would ever dare to
question you?”

“And what am I meant to understand by that
remark?” The hazel eyes were wide with pretended affront, the glare
piercing.

Lars laughed. “See what I mean? You’ll scare
the pants of them for sure.”

Caroline relaxed her glower and smiled. “I’m
afraid it will take a lot more than that,” she said.

Several more trusties passed through under
the scrutiny of the guard. Finally, their surrogates arrived.

“
Hey, here you come now,” Lars declared,
craning to see better. “And very nice too – almost as nice as the
original.”

A young woman was entering the cage, auburn
haired and pretty. The bright orange prison overalls could not
disguise the hint of the shapely figure beneath. She stopped by the
guard.

All at once, Old Seth was at the door
talking to the guard, his manner urgent – showing the man something
on a scrap of paper. The guard gave the woman’s pass a hurried
glance, and tried to follow her walk with his eyes, but Old Seth
was insistent, pushing the paper further under the Megran’s
nose.

“Good trick that,” Lars murmured.

“And here you come,” Caroline whispered to
Lars. “Tall and bronzed and very good looking.”

Old Seth and the guard were still talking.
The young man’s trolley stopped beside them. The young man
presented his pass. Old Seth said something that made the Megran
laugh. The guard gave the pass a cursory glance and waved the
trusty through. The young man smiled. He was still smiling as he
and his fellow trusties pushed the food trolley into the cage.

* * *

It took only a matter of moments to exchange
identities and garments. Caroline traded her shimmering silk gown
for the orange convict overalls of her proxy. Lars’s stand-in eyed
the torn and tattered field clothes thrust into his naked arms in
trade for his prison orange with some distaste.

“Thanks very much,” he said with obvious
irony to a grinning Lars. “I’ll look after these and make sure you
get them back.” But then he smiled and held out his hand. “But good
luck anyway, my friend. Just don’t take too long, or I won’t have
anything left to wear.”

* * *

Lars and Caroline played out their roles,
ladling out food to the two hundred amused extras. Everyone was a
bit player, excited to be part of something that might turn the
tide against Ferdinand at last.

All at once, it was time to go.

“Right. Now you’re to go out separately,” the
major explained. Old Seth thinks it will be safer. Caroline, you’re
to go first. Lars will catch up with you later.”

“And we’ll just sit tight and await your
return with all the queen’s men,” Sir Henry said, his tone cheerful
and confident.

He turned to Lars and lowered his voice to a
whisper. “You’ll look after her for me, won’t you, son? She’s all I
have.”

“Father!” Caroline exclaimed, overhearing.
“You know I can look after myself perfectly well.”

The governor nodded. “I know, m’dear,” he
murmured. “I know.”

Caroline embraced her father. “You look after
yourself too,” she said. “And you too, Rupert,” she added, pecking
the intelligence officer on the cheek.

She put her arms around Judith and hugged
her. Judith Warner’s eyes were moist as she smiled at Lars over the
young woman’s shoulder.

A moment later, Caroline was wheeling away a
rattling trolley of empty pots and plates toward the cage door with
her entourage of trusties pressing close in front and behind. The
guard glanced at her pass, matched face to photo, and waved her on.
She did not look back.

* * *

“Right!” the major said brusquely. “Your
turn, Lars. Take your time. Try to act naturally. Imagine you’re a
convict.” A wry grin accompanied the last piece of advice.

Lars leaned his weight into the trolley
handle. An orange clad helper joined him. They were the last. The
trolley jarred and jolted over the uneven cellar floor. The empty
pots voiced their metallic protest.

Lars was sweating. The trolley was making
too much noise. The guard at the cage door was looking at him –
staring. The man had spotted something was wrong –
he
knew
.

The Meredith was big on the guard’s hip –
his hand hovering near the black grooved butt.

The Megran’s lips moved. “Your pass?”

What?”

The man’s eyes were brown, flecked with
grey.

“Your pass!” He sounded bored. “Hey, I
haven’t got all day.”

“
Oh my pass – yeah sure. Sorry, almost
forgot.”

Black stalks of beard grew in untidy patches
on the guard’s red cheeks. It was a while since he’d shaved.

The man took the pass, held it up in line
with Lars’s face. Nodded. “Yeah – go!” He gave a dismissive wave of
his hand.

The trolley began its noisy passage once
more. A sigh of relief came from the trusty pushing beside him.

“Bravo, well done, Trionian,” the convict
muttered.

Lars heard the cage door clang shut behind
him and the heavy lock hiss back into place.

“We’re clear!” the man beside him muttered.
“Thank the stars!”

* * *

The line of rattling trolleys wound past the
row of Megran guards, past the anxious but hopeful eyes of the
royalist prisoners, and up an exit ramp into a passageway on the
other side of the cellar.

A few metres on the passage opened onto an
adjacent cellar – smaller and dimly lit. Here, the food trolleys
were loaded one at a time onto a large dumb waiter, which went up
to the kitchens above. Wine racks full of dusty bottles stood tall
on three walls.

A solitary Megran trooper stood guard at the
scene. Lars’s companion left as soon as the trolley was loaded.
Lars turned to leave, but the guard signalled him over. His small
dark eyes studied the young man intently.

“Hot work, eh?” His tone seemed friendly. The
Megran eased the black comb morion back on his head and mopped the
sweat from his brow. “You finished for the night, then?”

“Yeah!”

“Lucky you, eh?” the guard drawled. “I’ve got
another two hours of duty left to go.” He grinned. “Still, it’s
easy work.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the main cellar
and the cage. “Not much trouble from that lot in there.

“
You know, it’s no wonder the Commonwealth
was going to wrack and ruin,” he continued. “It was being run by a
bunch of ancient has-beens, who should have been put out to pasture
years ago, just as the prince says. It’s as well the Commonwealth’s
got a man like Ferdinand to save it from itself, don’t you
think?”

Lars nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” He hated
to agree, but he had to stay in character. “Well, I’d better be
off.”

“
Yeah, okay – you on tomorrow?” the guard
asked.

“No, got another job.” Lars made to walk
away.

“Oh, something good?” The Megran was
unhurried. It was plain he wanted to talk. He had a long and lonely
duty to fill.

“Yeah, something good.”

“Oh!” The trooper paused, thinking what more
he could say, but Lars broke in quickly before the conversation
could go further.

“Look, I’ll have to go now or I could get
into trouble.”

The guard nodded. Trouble was something he
could understand.

“Yeah well, see you later sometime,
perhaps.”

Lars began to walk away. “Yeah maybe –
goodnight,” he said over his shoulder.

* * *

Lars found Caroline and Old Seth waiting for
him at the base of a stairway leading up from the cellars.

“You had us worried,” Caroline said. “We
thought they might have found you out.”

“No trouble then?” Old Seth asked.

Lars shook his head. “No! As easy as a new
share furrow,” he answered, using a farmer’s simile.

Old Seth looked bemused.

Lars grinned. “No, no trouble, just a rather
talkative guard.”

Old Seth nodded. “Good. Right. Well, let’s
get moving. There’s a curfew in the city from nine o’clock on.
We’ve got less than two hours ’til then.”

“Where are we going?” Caroline asked.

“My son’s place of business.”

“Where’s that?” she queried.

Old Seth chuckled, the sound echoing in the
close confines of the stair well. “Up there,” he said, lifting his
gaze skywards. “In Megran orbit.”

* * *

They reached the top of the staircase and
entered a long, white windowless corridor. It was the service
access to Ferdinand’s palace, Old Seth explained. Solar powered
panels in the walls and ceiling provided the lighting.

The carpet runner, which stretched out
before them, was an emerald green, with a design featuring
Ferdinand’s coat of arms. The shield,
party per
pale
, showed the left half
– black, the right half - gold. In its centre, the green lion
rampant of Megran stood tall. Grand double doors stood at regular
intervals along the way. Each displayed the prince’s crest in the
centre panel, bordered by other princely motifs in gold.