The Prince's Pen

by Horatio Clare

  ‘But that doesn’t matter, because you do have to do with it. A lot of people will bloody die if this goes on and you do have to do with it.’

  ‘I’ve told them no!’

  I was a bit frantic then. Ludo looked at me with something like sympathy.

  ‘Look,’ he said. ‘It’s simple.’ He put his hand in his pocket and came out with a pistol. He cocked it, pulled back the slide to check the shell was where it should be and flicked the safety off. I took a breath and felt my eyes widen. He looked beautiful, almost as beautiful as the morning, and I thought, oh well. It makes sense actually.

  ‘Stop it, Clip,’ he said. ‘I love you but I’m damned if I’ll martyr you. Is that what you want?’

  ‘No...!’ I said, and my coward breath came out in a pant.

  ‘Good. Here. Take it. TAKE IT!’

  I held it miserably, pointing away at the remains of the daffs.

  ‘Now, if I’m not going to shoot you, are you going to shoot me?’

  ‘Of course not!’

  ‘It might solve a lot of problems. Civil war, for a start.’

  ‘I don’t care. I gave you my life, Ludo...’

  I stopped. We stared at each other. A buzzard called, high on the mountain.

  Ludo shivered, suddenly.

  ‘By Heaven,’ he breathed. ‘You even sounded like her, then.’

  We drank our tea in silence. Ludo put down his empty cup.

  ‘Right. I am sorry for your troubles, dear Clip. I know you didn’t ask for them. I can see you have all you need here.’

  ‘Almost,’ I said.

  ‘What do you lack?’

  ‘Peace.’

  ‘And a woman! Well!’

  ‘I’m fine, really.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you like a woman?’

  I looked at him curiously. ‘What on earth makes you ask that, after all these years?’

  ‘Well, despite what they say...’

  ‘What do they say?’

  ‘Oh, you know.’

  ‘No, Ludo, I honestly don’t. What do they say?’

  ‘They say you’re asexual! Or that you love me! Don’t think I’m not flattered by the contrast!’

  ‘So? Why do you come here talking to me about women?’

  ‘Because despite what they say I know there is a woman for you.’

  ‘Oh really.’

  ‘Uh-Uh-Uzma!’

  ‘Ludo, please.’

  ‘Don’t deny it! You love my brother’s wife. You’ve been in love with her forever. I’ve seen you Clip. It’s alright. I don’t blame you.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want you to come to a meeting.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just send for me?’

  ‘Because this is going to be a meeting between the Believers and the Traditionalists, and Uzma is going to represent the Believers and you are going to represent the Trads and between you you are going to have it out and make friends and end this bloody business, and put my kingdom back together again, or I am going to lash the pair of you together and drown you like kittens in a barrel of grog. So I wanted to invite you personally, and hear your gracious acceptance. Unless you’d rather shoot yourself? Or me? Well? What’s it to be?’

  ‘You are crazy.’

  ‘Crazy!’ he roared. ‘Crazy? Why didn’t you say so thirty years ago and save us all the bother?’

  We laughed wildly. When we had calmed down he looked at me with expectation.

  ‘Where’s the meeting?’ I asked, suddenly tired at the thought of another battle, though I can’t deny my heart was as high as heavy, at the thought of seeing her again.

  ‘Oxford.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why not? Good ground. In the middle – neutral.’

  ‘Damn it! Neutral! What’s neutral? I’m neutral – don’t you see?’

  ‘Clip, I do see. But what you must understand is, these people don’t have anyone else who can stand up to Uzma, and they’ve chosen you. Don’t you think I’d do it, if I could? But I can’t, and Levello definitely can’t, and it’s Clip they want so – there.’

  ‘What does Levello think of this insanity?’

  And Ludo smiled his smile and I swear I could have hit him. Game over, again.

  ‘Levello thinks it’s a fine idea,’ Ludo grinned. ‘As a matter of fact, it’s his.’ (A pause.) ‘Have we run out of tea?’

  He drained another cup and said we were on our way. It was pointless to splutter. I stuffed a bag, locked the house and allowed myself to be introduced to his pilot, a young man called Reda. He was lounging by his shiny machine, a great glowing wasp in my first meadow.

  ‘It is an honour to meet you,’ Reda said, touching his heart. ‘You are a legend to me.’

  ‘What nonsense have you been giving out?’ I glowered at Ludo. ‘Well, Reda, if you can bring me home safe you will be a legend to me.’

  Reda laughed, we all climbed in, the thing shook like a mad dog and then we were on our way.

  ‘First time Clip?’ Ludo said through the headphones. ‘We could have done with a couple of these in the war, well?’

  ‘I’m happier shooting them down,’ I managed, with some sort of grin, but it wasn’t true. What a wonder is a helicopter! The mountains rush-rolling under you, and then up, up and the shine of waters rise to meet you and the knolls of the Cotswolds and the cathedrals on their islands – and all the boats! The big ships towed silver arrowheads and flew flags of smoke. The little ones snipped about and I thought God, I have been missing all this on my mountain. I felt rather sad. Then we were landing on the roof of a sort of boxed cathedral in Oxford, which Ludo said was a college.

  ‘We’re announcing the conference this evening,’ he said, ‘so it may be busier tomorrow, but you’ll have a quiet night.’

  It was Ludo-logic. The later you tell them, the fewer turn up, the smaller the riot. He showed me to my room and prepared to leave, saying there was much to do.

  ‘There’s some books there,’ he said, pointing at a shelf. ‘You’ll be alright, won’t you?’

  ‘I’ll be alright.’

  ‘I – I miss you Clip. I read now...’

  ‘I heard! I’m proud of you, Ludo.’

  ‘But I miss you reading.’

  ‘I miss it too.’

  ‘Ah well! We’ll do it again, won’t we?’

  ‘Will we?’

  ‘No doubt,’ he said.

  After he had gone I sat on the bed. If I had been a drinker I would have had a few. Perhaps I should become a drinker, I thought, sniffing, and ran a bath. While it was filling I looked at the books. They all belonged to something called The Bodleian Library; they were not supposed to have been removed from it, and threatened severe penalties on whoever had. Free downloads of all texts were available, they said: originals were to be consulted only in the Reading Rooms. I knew the culprit, I realised. The books were all marked Mi – Fic and were by people called Mitchell. Ludo, I suspected, had gone into The Bodleian Library and helped himself to a chunk off a shelf at random. I took one down because the title pleased me and opened it somewhere near the back.

  ‘My uncle would quote Luther: ‘Whilst friends show us what we can do, it is our enemies who show us what we must.’

  Hmm! I thought, who is this person with an interesting uncle? I took the book to the bath and turned to the first page. Several hours later, having extracted myself from a bath which had turned cold, I put on some warm things and burrowed under the thin covers. I was perfectly happy, hundreds of years and thousands of miles away. This Mitchell was a great man. I wished I could have read his book to Ludo, he would have loved it – trade, ships, intrigue, history, a strange culture and a beautiful woman: all his favourite things. Outside bells rung, songs of halves and quarters which suggested the hours were getting on with themselves.

  It was gone midnight when there were heavy footsteps on the stair outside and a knock on the door. Partly annoyed at the disturbance and partly hoping it was Ludo, I jump
ed up. Something checked me – a thought of the mysterious uncle, friends, enemies, and old habits not quite dead, and I reached into my bag before crying, ‘Come in!’

  If I didn’t like the look of my guest he would be flying downstairs with a spray of his brains preceding.

  The old door winced open. When I saw who it was my hand came up empty. That was the second time I restrained the shooting of Levello, the Mountain King.

  If Ludo was as big as a barrel then Levello was the mass of two. Darker than his brother, with a slower smile and deeper eyes, Levello had been changed by the war. No longer the roaring boy I remembered from the Bear hotel, nor the cunning war-leader, aglow with pride of his Bug. Nor yet Uzma’s young husband, attentive and wry-smiling his love. No, Levello was different now. He seemed to tow more weight. He was carrying a package wrapped in tissue paper. He put it down on the table, straightened, and spread his arms.

  ‘Clip,’ he said, kind and warmly. ‘Come here mun, give me a hug.’

  It was like being mothered by a mammoth, and it’s not often I had the chance to feel small.

  He took me by the shoulders then and studied me.

  ‘Did I disturb you?’

  I liked the way the tense disguised the real question.

  ‘Not at all! Well, I was in a book...’

  ‘I’m sorry. Have you any tea?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Is there any tea in the room?’

  ‘Yes! And a kettle. Sit down, Levello, do.’

  The only chair squeaked at his weight. He set his elbows on his knees, his chin in cupped palms, and watched me fuss about.

  ‘So something’s wrong,’ I said, carefully pouring the water.

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘Can I help?’

  ‘I fear so, Clip.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I dread it,’ he said.

  ‘Really, don’t,’ I said. ‘I’m not afraid.’

  He was sombre as a sexton. I laughed. ‘Out with it, my Lord!’

  ‘Clip,’ he said, ‘I am truly sorry it has come to this.’

  ‘Heaven,’ I said, thinking queasily of Uzma, ‘what have I done?’

  ‘Well that’s it. You’ve never done anything – I mean, look at everything you’ve done! We owe you, don’t demur it. My brother was ever a great man but with you at his back – a titan. And so for him, for me. Your brain, your heart, your honour, Clip – we owe them.’

  ‘Rubbish! I’m just a fixer! Hundreds – thousands gave more than I did. Gave all, in fact.’

  None of this seemed to cheer him up but I saw him see the moment.

  ‘I’ve come to ask you a favour,’ he said. ‘The last.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It’s Uzma.’

  ‘I thought it might be.’

  And so Levello unrolled his dreadful tapestry. In the old, old days, he said, when two kings disputed, they would fight it out, or have two champions do it for them. I said I was aware of the practice. And would I agree, he persisted, that the split kingdom had chosen Uzma and me?

  I conceded the point, gracelessly. ‘But Ludo said we were to have it out and make friends?’ I added.

  Levello gave me a look.

  ‘Friends of a kind,’ he said.

  ‘What kind?’

  ‘She’s never been a woman to take prisoners. She loves you Clip, but she knows what you’re there for.’

  ‘What am I there for?’

  ‘To destroy her.’

  ‘Destroy her? How destroy her? I’ll never do that! I love her – I mean, I love her back. You love her! Of course we can’t...’

  ‘And she’ll destroy you.’

  ‘What is all this “destroy”? That’s not the way, that’s madness, war, you can’t – I can’t...’

  ‘You know in the rugby...’

  ‘What about the damn rugby? I hate rugby!’

  ‘Rugby keeps peace by a pantomime of war. Think of it as rugby.’

  Well, I almost went back to my bag, pulled the thing and shot him. How dare he talk to me about bloody rugby when the breath before was ‘destroy my wife’?

  ‘I’m not going to do it, whatever it is.’

  ‘You must. You must stand up and tell the truth – and the truth is that these islands do not want religious government, have never wanted it since they cut off that king’s head. And Uzma will flail you with the other truth, which is that maybe half the people do want to live for God, and that God is higher than all kings and princes, including Ludo and I, who have anyway sworn ourselves to Him. You will counter that not even Allah concerns Himself with something as small as running a country. Knowing all and seeing all is not the same as being responsible for all – He gave us free will that we might order our own affairs. A godly country we will always aim for, but a God-bothering one we shall not be, or something – you’re the one with the words, Clip! You can do this! You can do it beautifully.’

  ‘Do what?’ I shouted.

  ‘You can get her to say it!’

  ‘Get her to say what?’

  He jumped up now and paced forward, towering over me like an elephant, and he poked his great snout down at me and said quietly, eagerly and with all seriousness, ‘Get her to say she knows what God wants. That’s against the book. Get her to say that and you’ve got her.’

  ‘But – but – I’ve already said it haven’t I? I’ve said God doesn’t want...’

  ‘No, you’ve said what God concerns Himself with, and what He leaves to us. That’s all OK.’

  Levello backed off. I felt dizzy and I heavy-sat on the bed, head in hands.

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Oh, then she’ll go on about God’s law or whatever, it doesn’t matter. You stick to your guns. Anyone who says they know the mind of God is in schism at the least, a blasphemer at the outside. And all those firebrand boys who have egged her on to it will be sick as pike, because that’s how they go about, saying God thinks this and God thinks that – and it’s all against the Holy Book, none of it comes from the Prophet, peace be upon him. It’s about power for them and they bloody know it. Muhammad, peace be upon him, faithfully recited what the angel Gabriel told him, which is, live a good life, pay the alms levy, believe in God and the Last Day, fear God, and don’t go around telling anyone you know better than God. It’s in the Koran: you can look it up.’

  ‘Well,’ I said bitterly, ‘if I’m going to do this I better had look it up, hadn’t I?’

  ‘I’ve got a copy here,’ Levello said quickly, and plucked a beautiful green-bound book from his pocket.

  The look he got off me then would have curdled custard.

  ‘I’ll just put it here,’ he said, sheepish.

  ‘That’s it then, is it?’

  ‘Well, you will have shot her fox.’

  ‘And what? We shake hands and have a cup of tea?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Sort of. Meaning?’

  ‘She’s got to shoot yours, too.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Oh, I imagine she’ll say you are an infidel and an unbeliever, and possibly even an enemy of God, and that the fire is waiting for you – which is what it says, in certain circumstances, and she might go so far as to pronounce you one of those who God says should be killed by the Believers.’

  ‘Great. Thanks.’

  ‘It will all be fine.’

  ‘I don’t see how.’

  ‘But you will!’

  Levello made ready to go, with many reassurances and one in particular: ‘Don’t worry. When the moment comes Ludo will come between you. He will sort it. There’ll be a judgement and then it’s over.’

  ‘What’s the judgement?’

  ‘Up to Ludo.’

  ‘Do you know it?’

  ‘I have an idea,’ he said. ‘But I’d rather not say.’

  ‘Death?’

  ‘No! No, nothing like that..! Oh, and there’s one more thing – don’t look like that, Clip! It’s about your clothes.’
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  ‘What about them?’

  ‘We think you should go smart but casual, you know, send a visual signal?’

  ‘Oh, right, I’ve got something quite smart...’

  ‘Yes, but the thing is we want you to wear this.’

  He picked up the package and passed it over.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Have a look.’

  I tore it open, too tired for delicacy. And there it was.

  ‘Oh no. Never. No way. You’re having me on.’

  ‘It’s perfect!’ Levello laughed, clapping me on the shoulder with a paw that almost felled me. ‘And it’s your size. Tailored specially.’

  It was a rugby shirt, the red rugby shirt of Wales. Number 10, of course.

  ‘How can you even talk about destroying her?’ I tried, one last time, as he left.

  Levello was half through the doorway and so large he could barely turn in it, but he did, and looked at me with a stony glitter, eyes like a viper suddenly, and I thought oh yes, I remember you now, and your brother, and me.

  ‘Because I really do love her,’ he said. ‘And because I want her back.’

  She wore white, pure white, with a rune of gold in the hem. They had us not on a stage but in a pit formed by banks of spectators, facing each other across a sort of table. There were cameras and scrums of people, a crowd stretching that old room to the creak of its timbers, and there were guards with guns at the door. The cameras were the worst, like they didn’t want to miss a pore of this scrap between the ugliest thing in the land and the most beautiful by far. And there I was in that bloody shirt, feeling like the surliest insult, like I’d done it deliberately, as if I wasn’t foul to the eye already. I was sweating cold and dizzy as a drunk.

  God bless her, she saw it all straight away. She might have foreseen it months before by the way she caught my eye the moment we were brought in, and by the way she smiled at me with all kindness, and seemed to leave everyone else behind as she came over. She came towards me like grace.

  ‘Clip,’ she said, and held out her hands.

  I took them both and sank to my knees.

  ‘My queen,’ I said, staring down at her perfect toes, two of which I could see.

  There was pandemonium then! There’s your visual signal, Levello, I thought. How’s that? The straw dummy you’ve placed at the head of the Trads, kneeling to the true Queen of the Believers! All over, I thought, I give up.