Three Kings

by George R. R. Martin

  ‘But …’

  ‘No. Connie. Go.’

  Green Man stared at his hands. They had curled into two creaking fists, the one on the right thicker and uglier than the one on the left. He was finding it hard to maintain his usual calm, which was bothering him because he was far from alone. Constance was still standing in the doorway. Seizer sat in the chair opposite, mercifully at a loss for words, and Finder was leaning against the wall, looking as if a strong breeze would be enough to knock her over.

  He forced himself to look up at them all. ‘You’re sure about this?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Constance. ‘It’s real.’

  ‘I was coming to warn you as well,’ added Finder, the words coming out with a slight lisp. ‘The order comes from Henry himself.’

  ‘But …’ began Seizer, then trailed off.

  For once, Green Man felt some empathy. It was difficult to put into words. To say it out loud seemed ridiculous somehow. Henry’s secret order to wipe out all male jokers over the age of seventy was hard to swallow. It felt like something that belonged in a story from the Old Testament rather than the modern age.

  Seizer flapped his arms and huffed. ‘But this … It’s …’

  ‘We’re going to leave the country,’ said Constance. ‘I wanted to warn you before we left.’

  Green Man nodded, glad that she and Bobbin would be spared whatever came next. ‘When do you go?’

  ‘Today.’ She came further forward into the room. ‘Don’t worry about us. What are you going to do?’

  That was the question. How did one respond appropriately to something so patently monstrous? He was so angry, he was finding it hard to speak.

  ‘It’s a bloody outrage!’ shouted Seizer. ‘This is war!’

  ‘It is,’ agreed Green Man.

  ‘No!’ said Constance. ‘There’s still time to stop this. Go to the press, go to the courts. If you tell them what Henry is planning they’ll take action.’

  Finder nodded from her corner. ‘Yes, get the people to turn against him.’

  ‘How?’ scoffed Seizer. ‘With the word of a seamstress and, forgive me, a vagrant?’

  Constance’s nostrils flared. ‘And the former agent of the Silver Helix that Henry asked to do it.’

  After a show of checking the room, Seizer replied. ‘I don’t see any agents here. Do either of you have any evidence at all?’

  Finder and Constance exchanged a look. Clearly they did not.

  ‘That cad Henry must be stopped, and I am the one to do it,’ Seizer continued. ‘It is time for me to step forward and declare my rightful claim to the throne.’

  ‘You?’ asked Constance, unconvinced. ‘A prince?’

  ‘Yes, and Henry knows it! That’s why he tried to have me killed. Look closely at my face and you will see the truth. My royal blood cannot be denied!’ An expression flitted across Constance’s face that Green Man couldn’t interpret.

  ‘Be that as it may,’ interrupted Green Man, ‘we need proof of your lineage. Our own genetic test to confirm what we’ve heard, and someone with an untouchable reputation to carry it out and publish the result. That will take time. Henry’s threat to our people is imminent and needs to be acted upon.’ He glanced at Constance. ‘Thank you for bringing us this information, but now it is time for you to leave.’

  She looked as if she wanted to argue, but then nodded and she and Bobbin left.

  Green Man turned back to the others. ‘We need to get word to every one of our people that will be targeted by this new edict. Fortunately for us, there aren’t many male jokers of that age to protect. We’ll bring those who are willing into our custody.’

  ‘And those that refuse?’ asked Seizer. ‘Some of them are stubborn buggers.’

  ‘We hope there aren’t many, and place a watch on them. But that isn’t enough. We have to go on the offensive.’

  Finder was nodding, an eager light in her eyes.

  ‘About bloody time,’ muttered Seizer.

  ‘Britain First have already shown their hatred towards us,’ Green Man continued, ‘and are poised to escalate things. Which is why we’re going to go after them first and pre-empt whatever they’re planning. We’ll start with their leaders and work our way down.

  ‘This is war, and Britain First is not the only front we’re fighting. To be honest, everyone will be expecting us to make a move against them, and that’s what I’m counting on. A team will draw their attention with a strike against Britain First while I go after the real problem.’ He looked at Finder, and then to Seizer. ‘Henry. As long as he’s alive, our prince, the true prince, will be in danger, and our people will never know peace. This all started with him and it will end with him too. Tomorrow.’

  Seizer hauled himself out of his chair. ‘I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, old man, but by God I’m with you on this one.’ He held out a hand. ‘Let me come along when you go for Henry. Let’s bring the oaf down together.’

  Green Man stood up and took it, hiding any misgivings. ‘Together, then.’

  The tips of his fingers felt numb, in fact he felt as if his entire body were disengaged from the planet. Noel stood in Jasper’s bedroom holding the boy’s favourite Lohengrin T-shirt. The open suitcase on the bed yawned like a devouring mouth. Jasper was nattering though it seemed to come more from nerves than happiness as he dumped clothing into the case.

  ‘Is Mommy coming? Will she be at the airport?’

  ‘No, you’ll be travelling alone,’ Noel said at last. ‘But the nice people at the airlines will look after you.’

  Henry’s vengeance had been swift and surgical. Mid-morning Noel had received word that the court had ruled, and Jasper was to be returned immediately to his mother in New York City. Niobe’s lawyers had procured a ticket shortly after the court appointed a guardian ad litem for Jasper. The man had accompanied Noel to pick up Jasper after school, and now the moment was fast approaching when a solicitor assigned by the court would arrive to take Jasper to Heathrow. Noel’s hands clenched on the material.

  Jasper looked up at him, a frown wrinkling his brow. ‘Why don’t you just take me, Dad?’

  Why indeed? Why don’t I transform, grab him and go? But not to Niobe. We could vanish. And what kind of life would that be for a nine-year-old on the run with a fugitive father, no school, no friends, no stability? Whatever he might have become, Noel had had a stable and loving family life at the start of it. Pity he had done such a piss-poor job of providing that for his own child.

  ‘I … I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Noel finally said.

  ‘Mommy would understand. You could work it out. You did before. Please, Dad. Let’s go home.’

  Home. But this is home for me and it’s being destroyed from within, Noel thought.

  And soon several hundred old pensioners were going to die because in this toxic atmosphere there was no doubt that Henry would find someone who would carry out his wishes. Those extra-legal murders might already be underway.

  Child or country? Which would it be?

  He knelt in front of the boy and gripped his shoulders. ‘Jasper, you know I love you. More than anything in the world, but there is something I have to do.’

  ‘No, Daddy, please.’ Jasper threw his arms around his neck, pressed his face against Noel’s shoulder and began to sob.

  Noel stood and thrust his handkerchief into his son’s hands. ‘Jasper, sometimes a man has to give up what he wants in order to do what he must. You’ll understand … some day. When you’re older.’ He dropped his arm over Jasper’s shoulders and guided him back to the wardrobe. ‘Now finish your packing. I’ll come and see you in America as soon as I’m able.’

  Being in the Silver Helix bought you some privileges, even if your husband had killed a prince. A little time alone, just outside his cell. If he’d wanted, Alan could have slipped Sebastian something to end things quickly. But all he really wanted was to talk.

  ‘I just can’t work out where I went wrong, Sebastian.’


  ‘Oh?’ Sebastian’s voice was haggard, as was the rest of him. The guards hadn’t been gentle dragging him here; he cradled an arm against his body. A good husband would get him some medical attention. ‘Maybe it was when you started fucking Richard again?’ The words were laced with rage and bitterness.

  Alan heard them, but they weren’t relevant to his current problem. ‘None of this makes any sense. Maybe my love for you is clouding my judgement.’

  Sebastian reached a hand through the bars, grasped Alan’s and pulled it close. ‘You do still love me, don’t you, Alan? I love you, you bastard. That’s why I did it, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Alan said absently. His hand felt strange in Sebastian’s – cold and icy, like metal. My lovely metal man. But talking out loud to Sebastian helped him, instead of running in circles inside his own head. Alan kept feeling as if he almost had all the pieces of the puzzle, and then they slipped away again. It would be easier to think if Sebastian didn’t keep talking about other things; it was distracting.

  Sebastian said urgently, ‘I almost killed you, you know. Or me. Both of us. I thought about that a lot. But I thought it’d be so much better to kill Richard instead …’

  Alan sighed. ‘You should have talked to me, told me how unhappy you were.’

  Sebastian let go of his hand and stepped back in his cell, out of reach. ‘As if that would have done any good.’

  Alan frowned. ‘No, you’re probably right.’ He should be grieving, broken-hearted. Alan was sure he was, on some level. But everything that touched Sebastian seemed to live far away, behind a thick pane of clouded glass. It was over and done with; Alan had failed utterly to see the murder coming, had failed both Sebastian and Richard.

  But he couldn’t think about any of that now. The country was still at risk, and there were a thousand small details screaming for Alan Turing’s attention. ‘There are still too many things I don’t know. What I need is someone who knows the joker community, knows it intimately.’

  Alan turned away from Sebastian’s cell, pulled his overcoat more closely around himself and buttoned it tight. He’d get in touch with the Green Man. Constance could help Alan find him. They’d known each other a long time, and the Green Man owed Alan a couple of favours at this point. Maybe it was time to collect.

  ‘Alan – where are you going? Alan? Alan?’

  The duty solicitor had taken Jasper. His son hadn’t cried, just given Noel a last pleading and hopeful look that turned to despair when his father had shaken his head.

  The only sound was the slow clicking from the electric kettle as it cooled. Noel felt that if he moved too quickly he would fly into pieces. He forced himself to swallow through a painfully tight throat, pressed his fingers briefly against his eyes. Told himself the moisture on their tips was nothing.

  What was clear was that he could not stay an instant longer in the silent, empty flat. He grabbed his leather jacket and walked swiftly out of the door. He had a job to do so he forced aside his bitter grief and loss.

  The most pressing matter in this moment was determining to whom Henry would turn to carry out the murder of the elderly jokers. Logic suggested that it was probably the Britain First crowd, but logical or not it was still just a guess, and Noel never trusted to guesses.

  As he strode through the sleet and fog Noel mentally kicked himself for not recording that final meeting with Henry. If he had he could simply go to the Lion, now back in charge of the Helix, and dump this mess in his lap, but he had no proof and would Ranjit believe him without it? Probably not. Still, he should probably try. But not without evidence.

  A snort of amusement bubbled up. He who had been the blade and the bullet for the Silver Helix was now trying to prevent the death of a few hundred men. It was an odd role in which to find himself.

  The justifications for his state-sanctioned murders had been the belief that a death or two was a small price to pay to save potentially hundreds, thousands, or millions. He suspected the people in the Helix who still had a conscience comforted themselves with that fragile fig leaf. He had never bothered. He knew what he was.

  It was hard to hear the lorry’s engine through all the layers of wood, but Green Man could feel the vehicle decelerate, stop, and then slowly reverse.

  He’d been in lorries and vans and boxes before, but he’d never been inside a box, hidden inside a box that was inside another box, inside a lorry before. It was not something he was keen to repeat in a hurry.

  They’d debated for some time the best way to break into Windsor Castle and kill King Henry. A direct attack was out of the question. The castle was too heavily guarded to fall quickly, and the moment Henry got wind of their attack the military and Silver Helix would be called. Given the castle’s status as a tourist attraction, it was technically possible to buy a ticket and walk inside. However, Henry’s hatred of jokers meant that only Maven would be allowed to get in that way, and then only if she left her guns outside.

  For the attack to work, they’d needed a more discreet method of entry. A way to bring in people like him without raising the alarm. There had been lots of arguments about the best way to achieve this goal which, given Seizer’s involvement, had been both long and tiresome. In the end, they’d fallen back on the classics for inspiration and opted to employ a Trojan Horse. Or in this case, a Trojan Wardrobe.

  Instead of a hollow belly, the wardrobe had a secret chamber built into the back. They had constructed it around him, the panels pressing hard against his shoulder blades and chest as they bolted it together. It was like being buried in a vertical coffin. He barely had room to clench his fists. The little bits of space between his legs and around his head had been filled with coiled rope and foam to ensure the hidden chamber didn’t sound too hollow. He’d been assured that the ornate design of the wardrobe was as close a match to the one ordered by King Henry as they could manage, and also served to disguise how deep the back really was. Ideally, he’d have approved the final illusion himself, but given that he was part of that illusion, he’d been forced to hand it over to Wayfarer.

  Men grunted as they moved him from lorry to forklift. He couldn’t make out their words but imagined they were moaning in that good-natured way people did when working.

  He felt the shuddering movement as the crate rose up, out, and was then lowered down, heard the occasional shouted instruction, and then the lurch as the forklift took him to wherever it was they stored furniture in Windsor Castle. After they had deposited him, he soon heard the forklift return. With Henry’s coronation imminent, it was no surprise that he’d splashed out on a number of new items to stamp his identity on the royal home.

  More movement, laboured this time, as they took him inside. He felt sorry for the poor souls who were carrying him up the stairs. Despite the fear, there was a delicious thrill to being carried past security by the very people tasked with keeping out intruders.

  Then with a final thud, he arrived. Somewhere in the castle.

  A crisper sound of wood creaking caught his ear, as royal staff prised open the crate. Here we go.

  By now they would have already scanned the contents for metal, electronics and any other tell-tale signs of explosives. He wasn’t worried about these things. Indeed, he no longer gave off heat the way a normal person did, nor did he have a heartbeat to give him away. The chances of them picking him up with regular equipment were extremely low. However, the chances of their ruse tricking a thorough physical examination were much less certain.

  Footsteps echoed in the space, moving around him. He heard the dull throb of chatter, mainly one voice with a second punctuating it with the occasional word. All measured. All suggesting that they had not realized they had an intruder less than three feet from where they stood.

  More boxes arrived, and these too were checked. The same voices were heard again, but further away this time. Green Man allowed himself a little relief. For now, the ruse seemed to have worked.

  He waited until the footst
eps could no longer be heard.

  He waited until the voices had faded away.

  He waited some more for good measure.

  Then, very carefully, he pressed against the false back of the wardrobe. There was a soft creak and a crack as the seal broke. He didn’t open it all the way, just enough to allow any light to spill through. There wasn’t any.

  Good.

  He pushed through entirely and stepped forward, the rope coiled around one arm. To an observer it would have appeared like a magic trick or a scene from one of the stories he read to little Roy so very long ago. A wooden man returning from the wilds of Narnia.

  A little light shone white through a crack in a pair of curtains, and he watched it patiently as the hours ticked by, waiting for it to dim. He couldn’t see much of the room, but it was of a decent size, with a high ceiling, and no doubt would be beautifully decorated.

  It was impossible to know how things were going outside or if Henry’s insanity had already started to claim lives. But it was good to finally take direct action.

  Peggy was right. We didn’t join the Fists to do nothing. He nodded to himself. These hands will shed royal blood tonight and I am content with that. For once, I really am sure that I’m doing the right thing.

  He knew that the Silver Helix would come for him after this, in a way they never had before. In all likelihood, this night would be his last as well. But now he was here, committed, he found it didn’t worry him.

  He nodded to himself again, and settled in.

  Meanwhile, very slowly, the light outside began to fade.

  Constance and Bobbin sat facing each other in the Pain Quotidien in St Pancras station. They each had a small pot of tea and were sharing a plate of biscuits. At least, that’s what they were pretending to do.

  The biscuits were untouched as were their cups of tea. The tea had long gone cold. There were stares and whispers from some of the tables around them, but they barely noticed.

  ‘You bought me a house, then,’ Constance began, but trailed off. Right now, she didn’t give a shite about houses in France no matter how lovely they sounded.