Despite certain inhibitions and awkwardness in the beginning, she had adjusted to the sexual act and came to desire it. She loved her husband, and she sorrowed deeply when he died in 1926.
But Burton she had loved with a passion far exceeding that for Reginald.
No longer, she told herself.
She couldn't put up with his eternal restlessness, though it looked as if he would be staying in one place for many years now. But it was the place that was moving him. His rages, his eagerness to pick a quarrel, his intense jealousy, were becoming tiresome. The very traits which had attracted her because she had lacked them were now driving her away.
The greatest wedge was that he had kept to himself The Secret.
The trouble with leaving Richard at once was that she had no place to go. All the cabins were taken. Some were occupied by single men, but she did not intend to move in with a man she didn't love.
Richard would have scoffed at that. He claimed that all he wanted in a woman was beauty and affection. He also preferred blondes, but in her case he had waived this requirement. He would tell her to find some good-looking man with at least passable manners and live with him. No, he wouldn't. He would threaten to kill her if she left him. Or would he? Surely, he must be getting as tired of her as she was of him.
She sat down and smoked a cigarette, something she wouldn't have dreamed of doing on Earth, and she considered what to do. After a while, finding no answer, she left the cabin and went to the grand salon. There was always something pleasant or exciting there.
In the salon she walked around for a few minutes admiring the paintings and statuettes and listening to a piece by Liszt being played on the piano.
While she was feeling very lonely and hoping that someone would come up and break her mood, a woman approached her. She was about five feet tall, slim, long-legged, and had medium-sized conical breasts with up-tilted nipples thinly covered with a wispy cloth. Her features were beautiful despite her somewhat too long nose.
Exposing very white and even teeth, the blonde said, in Esperanto, "Hello, I'm Aphra Behn, one of His Majesty's pistoleers and ex-mistresses, though he still likes an occasional rerun. You're Alice Liddel, right? The woman of the fierce- looking ugly- handsome Welshman, Gwalchgwynn."
Alice acknowledged that she was right and asked immediately, "Are you the authoress of Oroonoko?
Aphra smiled again. "Yes, and of several plays. It's nice to know that I was not unknown in the twentieth century. Do you play bridge? We're looking for a fourth."
"I haven't played for thirty-four years," Alice said. "But I loved it. If you don't mind some clumsiness at first . . ."
"Oh, we'll sharpen you up, though it may hurt some," Aphra said. She laughed and led Alice by her hand toward a table near a wall and below a huge painting. This depicted Theseus entering the heart of Minos' labyrinth where the Minotaur awaited him. Ariadne's thread was tied to the hero's enormous erection.
Aphra, seeing Alice's expression, grinned.
"Does give you a start when you first see it, doesn't it? Don't know if Theseus is going to kill the bullman with his sword or bugger him to death, what?"
"If he does the latter," Alice said, "he'll break the thread and won't be able to find his way back out to Ariadne."
"Lucky woman," Aphra said. "She can die still thinking he loves her, not knowing he plans to desert her at the first opportunity."
So this was Aphra Amis Behn, the novelist, poet, and dramatist whom London called the Incomparable Astrea, after the divine star maiden of classical Greek religion. Before she died in 1689 at the age of forty-nine, she had written a novel, Oroonoko, which was a sensation in her time and was reprinted in 1930, giving Alice a chance to read it before she died. The book had been very influential in the development of the novel, and Aphra's contemporaries rated her with Defoe when she was at her best. Her plays were bawdy and coarse but witty and had delighted the theatergoers. She was the first English woman to support herself entirely by writing, and she had also been a spy for Charles II during the war against the Dutch. Her behavior was scandalous, even for the Restoration period, but she was buried in Westminster Abbey, an honor denied the equally scandalous and far more famous Lord Byron.
Two men were waiting impatiently at the table. Aphra made the introductions, giving a slight biography of each.
The man at the west end of the table was Lazzaro Spallanzani, born A.D. 1729, died 1799. He had been one of the more well-known natural scientists of his time and was chiefly noted for his experiments with bats to determine how they could fly through total darkness. He'd discovered that they did so by use of a form of sonar, though that term wasn't known in his day. He was short, slim, dark, and obviously Italian though he spoke Esperanto.
The man who sat at the north end was Ladislas Podebrad, a Czech. He was of medium height (for the middle and late twentieth century), very broad, muscular, and thick-necked. His hair was yellow, and his eyes were cold and blue; The eyebrows were very thick and yellowish. His eaglish nose was large, and his massive chin was deeply clefted. Though his hands were broad – as big as a bear's, thought Alice, who tended to exaggerate – and the fingers were relatively short, he handled the cards like a Mississippi riverboat gambler.
Aphra commented that he'd been picked up only eight days ago and that he was an electromechanical engineer with a doctor's degree. She also said – and here Alice was suddenly very interested – that Podebrad had attracted John's attention when John saw him standing .by the wreck of an airship on the left bank. After hearing Podebrad's story and his qualifications, John had invited him to come aboard as an engineer's mate in the engine room. The duraluminum keel and gondola of the semirigid dirigible had been cut up and put in a storage room in the Rex.
Podebrad didn't talk much, seeming to be one of those bridge players who was all intent on the game. But since Behn and Spallanzani chattered back and forth, Alice was emboldened to ask him some questions. He replied tersely, but gave no outward signs of being annoyed. This didn't mean that he wasn't; his face was stony throughout the playing.
Podebrad explained that he had been head of a state far far down-River called Nova Bohemujo, Esperanto for New Bohemia. He'd been qualified for the position since he'd also been head of a government post in Czechoslovakia and a prominent member of the Communist party. He no longer was a Communist, though, since that ideology was as useless and irrelevant as capitalism was here. Also, he'd been very attracted to the Church of the Second Chance, though he'd never joined. He'd had a recurring dream that there were large deposits of iron and other minerals deep under the area of Nova Bohemujo. After much urging, he'd gotten his people to dig for them. This was a long and wearisome task and wore out many flint, chert, and wood tools, but his zeal had kept them at it. Besides, it gave them something to do.
"You must realize that I am not at all superstitious," Podebrad said in a basso profundo. "I despise oneiromancy, and I would have ignored this series of dreams, no matter how sustained and compelling they were. That is, under most circumstances I would have. It seemed to me that they were the expressions of my unconscious, a term I didn't like to use, since I reject Freudianism, but useful here to describe the phenomena I was experiencing. They were, at first, only the expressions of my wishes to find metal, or so I thought. Then I came to believe that there might be another explanation, though the first was really no explanation. Perhaps there was an affinity between metal and myself, some sort of earth current that put me in its circuit, that is, the metal was one pole and I the other so that I felt the flow of energy."
And he says he isn't superstitious, Alice thought. Or is he kidding me?
Richard, however, would have gone for that sort of rot. He believed that there was an affinity between himself and silver. When he'd suffered from ophthalmia in India, he'd placed silver coins on his eyes, and, when he had gout in his old age, he'd put them on his feet.
"Though I do not believe in dreams as manifestations of the un
conscious, I do believe that they may be a medium for transmission of telepathy or other forms of extrasensory perception," Podebrad said. "Much experimentation was done with ESP in the Soviet Union. Whatever the reason, I felt strongly that there was metal deep under the surface of Nova Bohemujo. And there was. Iron, bauxite, cryolite, vanadium, platinum, tungsten, and other ores. All jumbled together, not in a natural strata. Evidently whoever re-formed this planet had piled the ores there during the process."
All this was said between bidding, of course. Podebrad talked as if he hadn't been interrupted, picking up exactly where he'd left off.
Podebrad had industrialized his state. His people had been armed with steel swords and fiberglass bows and firearms. He'd built two armored steamboats, neither nearly as large as the Rex.
"Not for conquest but for defense. The other states were jealous of our mineral wealth and would have liked to possess it, but they didn't dare attack. My ultimate object, however, was to build a large boat with screw propellers to travel to the headwaters of The River. I didn't know at that time that there were two giant boats already coming up The River. If I had known, I would have built my own vessel anyway.
"Eventually I fell in with some adventurers who proposed to get to the headwaters by means of an airship. Their idea intrigued me and soon after I made the blimp and set out in it. But a storm wrecked it. I and my crew got out alive, and then the Rex came along."
The game was over a few minutes later with Podebrad and Alice winners and Spallanzani angrily demanding why Podebrad had led with a diamond instead of a club. The Czech refused to tell him but said that he should be able to figure it out for himself. He congratulated Alice on her correct playing. Alice thanked him, but she still didn't know any more than Spallanzani how Podebrad had done it.
Before they parted, however, she said, "Sinjorino Behn forgot to say exactly when you were born and died on Earth."
He looked sharply at her.
"Perhaps that is because she doesn't know. Why do you want to know?"
"Oh, I'm just interested in that sort of thing."
He shrugged and said, "A.D. 1912 to 1980."
Alice hurried off to find Burton before she had to go on duty and learn to set bones and make plaster- of- paris casts. She caught him in the corridor on the way to their cabin. He was sweating, his dark skin looking like oiled bronze. He'd just finished two hours of stick-fighting and fencing and had half an hour before he fell in for drill.
On the way to the cabin, she told him about Podebrad. He asked her why she seemed so excited about the Czech.
"It's nonsense, that about his dream," she said. "I'll tell you what I think about it. I think he's an agent who got stranded and who knew where that deposit of ores was. He used the dream as an excuse to get his people to dig it up. Then he built the blimp and tried to get to the tower itself, not just the headwaters. He must have!"
"Oh, reeeally," Burton drawled in that infuriating manner. "What other slight evidence do you have, if it's even slight? After all, the chap didn't live past 1983."
"That's what he said! But how do we know that some agents . . . you've said so yourself . . . haven't changed their story? Anyway . . ."
She paused, her whole being radiating eagerness.
"Yaas?"
"You described the council of twelve. He looks like he might be the one called Thanabur or maybe the one called Loga!"
That rocked him. But after a few seconds, he said, "Describe this man again."
When he'd heard her out he shook his head.
"No. Both Loga and Thanabur had green eyes. Loga was red-headed, and Thanabur was brown haired. This Podebrad has yellow hair and blue eyes. He may look much like them, but I suppose there are millions who do."
"But Richard! Hair color can be changed! He wasn't wearing those plastic lens that can change the eye color that Frigate told us about. But don't you think the Ethicals would have the means to change eye color without obvious aids?"
"It's possible. I'll take a look at the fellow."
After showering, he bustled down to the grand salon. Not finding Podebrad there he returned to the engine room. Later when he next met Alice, Burton said, "We'll have to see. He could be Thanabur or Loga. If one can be a chameleon, the other can. But it's been twenty-eight years since I saw them, and our meeting was very brief. I really can't say."
"Aren't you going to do anything about it?"
"I can't very well arrest him on John's boat! No. We'll just have to watch him, and if we get something to justify our suspicions, then we'll see what we can do.
"Remember Spruce the agent. When we caught him, he killed himself just by thinking a sort of code and released poison into his system from that little black ball in his brain. It'll be very tricky if we do act, and we can't until we're sure. Personally, I think it's just a coincidence. Now, Strubewell . . . there's someone we don't have any doubt about. Well, not much perhaps. After all, it's only a theory that anyone claiming to be post-1983 is an agent. It is possible that we just haven't met many."
"Well, I'll be playing bridge a lot with Podebrad, if I don't come a duffer. I'll watch him."
"Be very careful, Alice. If he is one of Them, he'll be very observant. In fact, you shouldn't have asked him about the dates. That may have put him on his guard. You should have found out from someone else."
"Can't you ever give me full credit?" she said, and she walked out.
9
* * *
Loghu was no longer the king's favorite.
King John had become so smitten with a very pretty redhead with large blue eyes whom he'd seen on the bank that he decided to stay in the area for a while. The boat was anchored by a large dock the locals had built long ago. After two days to make sure that the people here were as friendly as they pretended to be, John permitted shore leave. He didn't say anything to anybody at first about his sudden attack of irresistible lechery, but his behavior made that obvious.
Loghu didn't especially care that she had to leave the grand suite after John had talked the woman into going to bed with him. She wasn't in love with him. Besides, she was more than somewhat interested in one of the locals, a big dark Tokharian. Though he wasn't of her century, he was of her nation, and they had many things to talk about between lovemaking. However, she was humiliated that she had lasted such a short time with the monarch, and she was heard to mutter that she might just push John overboard some dark night. There had been, there were now, there would be many who would like to remove him from the living.
Burton stood guard duty the first night. The next, he moved into a hut with Alice near the dock. The people here, most of whom were Early Minoan Cretans, were hospitable and fun-loving. They danced and sang around the bonfires in the evening until their allotment of lichen alcohol was gone and then reeled to bed to sleep or couple or "pluralize," as Burton called it. He was happy to stay here for a few weeks anyway because he'd have a chance to add the language to his now long list. He mastered its basic grammar and vocabulary quickly since it was closely related to Phoenician and Hebrew. There were, however, many words which were non-Semitic, these having been borrowed from the aboriginals of Crete while the conquerors from the Middle East were assimilating them. They all spoke Esperanto, of course, though it deviated somewhat from the artificial tongue invented by Dr. Zamenhof.
John had no trouble getting his new mistress to agree to go to bed with him. But he had a problem. There was no cabin space for Loghu, and he couldn't throw her off the boat without a good reason. Autocratic though he was, he was able to override her rights. His crew would see to that. Remembering the Magna Carta, he did not buck them, but he was undoubtedly trying to think of a way to get rid of Loghu which would seem justifiable.
On the fourth night of shore leave, while John was in his grand suite with Blue-eyes, and Burton was with Alice in their small but comfortable quarters, a helicopter dropped out of the night sky onto the landing deck of the Rex.
Burton would f
ind out very much later that the raiders came from the airship Parseval and had been ordered to capture King John if they could or to kill him if they couldn't. All he knew then was that the gunfire of the Rex meant bad trouble. He put on a cloth around his waist and fastened it with the magnetic tabs inside the material. Then, grabbing a rapier and a fully loaded pistol from the table by the bed, he ran outside while Alice was still yelling to him.
He could hear men screaming and shouting in the midst of shots and then a great explosion apparently in the engine room. He ran as fast as he could toward the boat. There were lights on in the pilothouse; somebody was at the controls. Then the paddle wheels began to turn. The boat started moving backward, but Burton leaped onto the promenade of the boiler deck just before the lines tied to the pilings pulled them down and the dock collapsed.
A moment later, a stranger came down the stairs from the lowest story of the pilothouse. Burton emptied his pistol at him but missed. Cursing, he dropped the gun and proceeded toward the fellow. Then the slippery one showed up again with a rapier in his hand.
Never had Burton faced such a demon with his sword! No wonder. The tall thin demon was Cyrano de Bergerac! Playfully he introduced himself during a lull in the swordplay but Burton saw no such reason to waste breath. Both were slightly wounded – a good indication that they were evenly matched. Somebody shouted, Burton's attention was distracted and that was enough. The Frenchman drove his blade deep into Burton's thigh.
He fell to the deck, helpless. The agony came a few seconds later, making him clench his teeth to keep from screaming. De Bergerac was a gallant man. He made no effort to kill Burton, and, when one of his men appeared a moment after, de Bergerac told him not to shoot Burton.
The helicopter lifted off shortly thereafter as men shot at it from the deck. Before it had gotten a hundred feet, however, a naked white body appeared in the beam of a searchlight and then dropped into the darkness. Somebody had either leaped or been thrown from the craft. Burton guessed that it was King John.
The Magic Labyrinth Page 6