The Mandate of Heaven

by Mike Smith

  “And is Lady Hadley aware of this?” Abercrombie muttered. “Your plans for her husband-to-be.”

  “She’ll thank me one day. After she is married to some sucker, having made his life a living hell, with a dozen kids running around underfoot causing bedlam. Then she’ll thank me; for death is quick and forgiving, married to Stanton would be an eternity trapped in a living-hell.”

  *****

  It was hours later and the fire had died down to just glowing embers, when their impromptu planning meeting finally broke up. Templeton, Baracoa and Murdoch had long since departed, for their beds he assumed, but Alex wouldn’t have been surprised if the nearest tavern was currently doing a roaring trade.

  “Not on the rug!” he snapped at Sanderson, who’d just taken a large sip of wine and was now turning an alarming shade of puce from the tart taste. “That carpet is priceless, being at least a hundred years old, made on Earth, transported a dozen light-years and it doesn’t necessitate a wine stain.”

  “By the High-Lords,” Sanderson gagged, spitting the wine back into his glass. “You’re living in some kind of museum. What on Arcturus possessed you to buy this place?”

  Alex just shrugged feebly, unable to understand himself what possessed him to commit such an act of utter madness, let alone explain it to these two. For the mansion was Palladium in style, massive in grandeur, easily the equal of any palace owned by the High-Lords, with a maintenance budget to match. For while they had an army of servants to clean, polish and repair every facet, he had Mary, a decrepit, part-time, gardener and himself. It was utter folly and he would be the first to admit it. However, since he’d first laid eyes on it, while on a temporary posting during some meaningless, random, troop rotation, he had been enthralled with the building, helpless to some seemingly invisible magnetic force. It simply felt right, down to the very core of his being, as if it was encoded into his very DNA.

  “It was going cheap,” he finally muttered, as way of an explanation.

  “You’re assuming of course that Lady Hadley wants to leave,” Abercrombie commented, finally looking up from his wine glass. He’d been twirling the stem of the glass between his thumb and forefinger for the past twenty minutes, admiring the play of colours from the ruby red wine in the glass, while consuming very little of it.

  “You must be soused, old man,” Alex rebuked reclining on the chaise longue. He’d long since abandoned his boots and put his stocking covered feet up on the armrest. He still hurt all over, the results of his earlier labour, or the tree that had subsequently fallen on him, he wasn’t totally sure. “Of course she wants to leave. It’s all she ever talks about.”

  “Not recently,” Abercrombie disagreed. “In the past month, she’s cleaned the house from top to bottom, renovated your cloak room to turn it into a reception room and is currently planning the Harvest Festival celebrations in a manner that would make any Field General proud. I was married for over twenty years, trust me when I say—she’s nesting.”

  Ignoring his earlier rebuke, Alex spat the contents of his wine glass across the antique Persian rug. “She’s doing what?” he demanded, aghast.

  “Nesting,” Abercrombie said. “I expect that she’ll be choosing curtains next which, by the way, you sorely lack,” he gazed at the worn, threadbare, ones disparagingly. “You could do far worse.”

  “Far worse?” Alex replied uncomprehendingly. “The blinds aren’t that bad.”

  “For a wife,” Abercrombie corrected. “She’s smart, beautiful, headstrong, comes from a good family, richer than Croesus, and don’t tell me you don’t need the money.”

  “And you already quarrel, far more than most married couples. That must be a good sign,” Sanderson added, as if dispensing marital advice was a regular occurrence.

  “Comes from a good family…” Alex spluttered, seemingly at a loss for words. “There must be something wrong with this bottle of burgundy, although it doesn’t seem to have affected me yet. Unlike the two of you, who have taken complete leave of your senses. I promise you, the thought has never once crossed her mind.”

  “Which suggests that it has crossed your mind, probably more than once?” Abercrombie smirked.

  Alex peered mournfully into the bottom of his empty glass, about to drain the last few drops, before reconsidering. Perhaps this bottle had been off, as he seemed to have been following close behind these two, along the yellow brick road to Bedlam. Putting his glass carefully down on the side table, he slowly got to his feet, his aching muscles protesting every step of the way, but he doubted that he would be doing them much of a favour, by falling asleep on the couch.

  “I’m calling it a night,” he pronounced loudly to the room. “I’ll let Jessica know in the morning that her presence here is no longer wanted and it’s time for her to return to her family. I believe that a broken heart is a literary invention, and hence it doesn’t actually cause any long term health implications. She has an important engagement with High-Lord Stanton and I’m not talking about the wedding. Once he is dead I might finally be able to sleep at night, and not dread waking up the next morning wondering if I’m back in that six-by-four cell.” With those parting words, he shut the door behind himself.

  Firmly.

  The company of guests was best enjoyed in moderation, he decided wearily on the way to his bed.

  *****

  The Harvest Festival celebrations were in full swing by the time Alex finally arrived. He had made certain of that, by arriving several hours late. The thought of being early, having to engage in meaningless small talk, while waiting for the other guests, filled him with dread. He had been hoping to avoid attending altogether. However, having searched fruitlessly for Jessica during most of the day, he had concluded that she was purposefully avoiding him. Hence, as this was the only time and place he could be certain of finding her, he had come, albeit reluctantly.

  He looked around the festively decorated hall with interest, as it had been adorned with many of the bounties from the harvest. Some of the fruits, vegetables and crops were not native to the moon, but occasionally a selection of the local, edible produce, could be seen, easily recognisable via their riot of colours; cyan, magenta, yellow and black. While it was an annual celebration, this was the first time that he had ever attended. In the past always justifying his absence by important prior engagements but, in truth, he could never summon up the enthusiasm to participate.

  Until recently he had very little in life to celebrate.

  He tossed that last thought around his head several times, wondering what was different this time. Meanwhile he nodded greetings to several of his tenants that he recognised, politely declined half a dozen requests to dance and several further offers of food or drink. He observed Abercrombie, Sanderson, Templeton, Murdoch and Baracoa partaking in all that was on offer. But still he continued to wander around, eyes glancing left and right, peering between the crush of bodies, not really sure what he was looking for, until he found it.

  His breath caught in his throat when he finally spotted her and time seemed to stand still. He’d seen her before of course, many times, dressed in anything from a silk camisole to rough spun work clothes, but never before had he thought she’d looked more beautiful. Wearing a daring scarlet satin evening gown with her waist-length hair tied back with a black ribbon. Her gown had become bunched in the middle and the lace around the neckline wrinkled down, exposing a bit of extra cleavage, but she did nothing to correct her garment. A fact that her dancing partner seemed to particularly enjoy, as his eyes rarely strayed to her face. She caught sight of him, as her steps faltered for a moment, before she shot him a patronising smile and then turned her back on him.

  Alex ground his teeth together in frustration, resisting the urge to make a scene by marching over to the pair, tearing her from the arms of her dance partner and insisting that she right her dress. Somehow Alex thought that was exactly what she expected, and he hated to be so predictable. So instead he found his attention being
averted by the yapping of Lucifer, who’d also decided to attend the celebrations, which pretty much meant that the entire household had now ignored his edict not to go there. Shrugging, as he became accustomed to being ignored, he ambled off in the direction of Lucifer and a couple of children. In the absence of a pony, they had obviously decided that Lucifer would suffice instead.

  Alex decided that he’d better intervene before Lucifer mistook a couple of the younger ones for hors d’oeuvre.

  *****

  Jessica could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end and it wasn’t from the approaching thunderstorm, but instead a tempest of a very different kind. She glanced up to confirm the fact and was momentarily taken aback by his searing gaze. It was like a live electricity conduit arching across the room, connecting them. He was furious, that was painfully obvious, but beyond that there was something else, far more elemental. She would almost call it possessiveness. Never one for taking others’ advice, having repeatedly been warned against baiting angry bears, she instead smirked, before purposefully turning her back on him. She smiled in anticipation of the scene, him stalking over, demanding her attractive dancing partner immediately release her, which he would obviously do, to avoid grievous injury. She would protest, of course, before graciously, but reluctantly, agreeing to dance with him instead.

  Any minute now…

  Ten minutes later, and having her partner step on her foot, one too many times, she felt her own temper start to boil. Where was he? What in Hades was he doing? Didn’t he know his part to play? Unable to stand the cumbersome dolt she was currently paired with any longer, she feigned exhaustion, quickly agreeing to his offer to get them both a drink, before promptly abandoning him and went hunting instead.

  She searched everywhere for him, but to no avail; food and drinks first, men were always hungry, followed thereafter by the gambling tables because if they weren’t eating or drinking, most men would probably gamble away money they could hardly afford to lose, especially in Alex’s case. By now she was starting to get anxious, worried that he’d abandoned the party altogether, especially after all the effort she had made to get him there in the first place. She was just about to give up entirely and admit defeat, when a dark blur shot from underneath the food table, a string of sausages in tow, vanishing into a thick crowd of children and adults alike. Knowing that wherever Alex was, Lucifer was sure to be close behind, she wandered over to the crowd. Her tall height giving her an advantage, as she spied Lucifer over the top of the crowd, with an assortment of items at his feet. The children were all laughing delightedly while the adults clapped admiringly.

  “I hope that you’re not encouraging larceny,” Jessica asked Alex archly, having spotted him at the centre of the onlookers. “You’re already in enough trouble as it is, what with the kidnapping…”

  “Lady Hadley,” Alex said looking up, giving her a broad smile that made him look at least a decade younger. A smile that Jessica thought should be banned, having caught a dark look from more than one of the younger girls, who had obviously been enjoying his attention. “How goes the dancing? I hope that you still have some toes left?”

  Jessica frowned, wondering if mind reading was one of his many talents, and then followed his gaze to her mud splattered slippers. So much for her polished debut, she thought dryly, before casting aside the illusion entirely. “You’re late,” she snapped, appalled by her spiteful tone. “You promised me a dance, almost ten minutes ago.” He’d done nothing of the sort, except for the heated gaze that they’d shared earlier. Still, he was too much of a gentleman to call her out over it and therefore simply bowed apologetically, took her hand and led her back towards the dance floor.

  “My apologies, your invitation must have gotten lost, in the post, perhaps?” he whispered knowingly into her ear. “And such terrible timing as the orchestra seems to have just played the last tune of the evening.” Indeed, the few remaining couples were currently vacating the dance floor, when suddenly the orchestra struck up a new melody, a waltz. “What the hell,” Alex groaned, before catching sight of Sanderson. Standing beside the orchestra, grinning like an idiot, giving Alex a less than subtle thumbs up. “I’ll kill him in the morning,” Alex muttered under his breath.

  “What did you say?” Jessica asked, giving him a perplexed look.

  Hardly able to explain about the duplicity of his soon to be ex-colleague, he instead said the first thing that came to mind. “You look absolutely stunning tonight.” Whoops. While completely true, it wasn’t the sort of thing you were meant to just go blurting out.

  Jessica gave him a quizzical look, obviously thinking he was jesting, but upon realising that he was being sincere, flushed. “Thank you. In all honesty I thought that you would be angrier.”

  “Angry? Why?” Alex asked, honestly confused.

  “My father certainly was, every time that I disobeyed him.”

  “Oh,” Alex said, as understanding finally dawned. “I was never angry about that, in actual fact you’ve far exceeded my wildest expectations. The harvest festival celebrations have been fantastic, the best that we’ve had in years, I’ve heard nothing but glowing praise, ever since I arrived.”

  “But you said…” Jessica’s eyes widened in understanding. “You set me up,” she growled, but with little rancour, too busy basking in Alex’s admiration. How often had she wished to hear such words from her own father?

  “In fact I’ve been constantly asked if you will be in charge of the preparations next year?” Alex continued on, oblivious to her internal thoughts.

  “Next year,” Jessica sighed, biting her lip. She’d purposefully tried to ignore thinking of the future overly much, but it was easier done when she was being shot at. Much harder when dancing in the arms of this man, as it felt like the two of them were alone, floating in a dream where nothing could intrude on her happiness—except for the weight of responsibility resting on her shoulders. Never before had she noticed its weight so keenly, but now it pressed down on her on all sides.

  “You need to contact your father to let him know that you’re safe and well. It’s been almost a month; he must be frantic with worry by now.”

  “I know, I just need a little more time,” she admitted.

  “Time that you no longer have. I’ve given you as much as I can afford, but even I have my limits. Tomorrow you must call your father.”

  “Very well,” she sighed. For he had a point, she’d been selfish, thinking of nothing but herself and the opportunity to postpone her pending nuptials. Alex was right, as her father and sister must be frantic by now.

  “I need you to give him a message from me, it’s important. Can you do that?”

  “A message?” Jessica blinked in surprise, so caught up in her own thoughts she must have misheard. “What message?”

  “Three days from now, he’s to meet us on Elysium Fields, your father will know of it,” Alex added, noticing her confused expression. “You’re to tell him that he’s to come alone, if he wants you returned safely, and—” he faltered.

  “And?” Jessica prompted, having a premonition that she wasn’t going to like what was coming next.

  “He’s to bring fifty million credits, in raw Al-Keishi pearls.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Then he’ll still get you back, but High-Lord Stanton certainly will not marry you. He won’t want soiled goods.”

  “Why?” Jessica met his gaze, searching desperately for something, a reason, anything.

  “Honestly? Because I need the money. Have you taken a good look around you recently? I’ve got a house that is falling down around my ears, tenants that I cannot even afford to house, not to mention putting food on my table.”

  Jessica had to look aside, for she didn’t need to look far to see the truth in his eyes, more than that she could feel the intensity behind his words, he didn’t want the money for himself, but for others, she could hardly blame him for that, yet—

  “No. I won�
��t do it. In which case go ahead, do your worst.” The words caught in her throat, when she felt the pressure of his arms tighten around her momentarily, and for a brief second she wondered if he would really carry out his threat. She jumped nonetheless, like a skittish colt, when he pressed a soft kiss just above her collarbone.

  “I thought you might say that,” he took a step back and bowed politely. “Thank you for the dance, Lady Hadley.” Then he took another step backwards, vanishing into the crowd, leaving her standing there alone and bewildered.

  What had just happened? What did he mean by that?

  *****

  Alex stepped out into the stifling night air, casually putting his hands in his pockets and waited. It wasn’t much cooler outside than in, but at least it was a different type of hot air. Looking up he could clearly make out the thunderheads rapidly gathering, it was going to be a once in a lifetime storm. He could already feel the wind whipping at his clothes, a static charge running across his exposed forearms, he tipped his head back observing the stars overhead disappearing one by one. He was standing on the very precipice of the storm and wanted nothing more than to open his arms and embrace it. This was what he had missed most during his captivity, the pure elemental fury of nature. He often felt that if he could look inside himself, peer into his very soul, this is what it would look like, a thundercloud ready to shatter.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” a furious voice demanded from behind him.

  With his head tipped back, Alex let his eyes fall shut, hearing the tenor of her voice drift over him, just like the earlier breeze. Yes, a mighty storm indeed. He made sure that the smile was gone from his lips before he turned around to face her. She was standing exactly as he imagined, with hands on her hips, a provocative posture indeed, which along with her scarlet dress made her look as tempting as sin. He briefly considered indulging in his earlier threat, as he was certain that they would both enjoy it.