Legends From the End of Time

by Michael Moorcock

  Thus it was that she slept scarcely at all that night and rose early, with the first vermilion flush of dawn, to note that Snuffles still slept soundly, to hover close by Jagged's door in the hope that he would rise early — though the evidence of last night denied this hope, she knew. Robot servants prowled past her, preparing the great house for the morning, ignoring her as she paced impatiently to the breakfast room with its wide windows and its views of fields, hills and trees, so like a world that had existed before Cataclysm, before Armatuce, and which none of her folk would ever have expected to see again. In most things Lord Jagged's tastes harked to the planet's youth.

  The morning grew late. Snuffles appeared, hungry for the Dawn Age food the robots produced at his command, and proceeded to eat the equivalent of an Armatuce's monthly provisions. She had to restrain her impulse to stop him, to warn him that he must look forward to changing his habits, that his holiday could well be over. Dawn Age kipper followed antique kedgeree , to be succeeded by sausages and cheese , the whole washed down with primitive tea . She felt unusually hungry, but the time for her daily meal was still hours away. Still Jagged did not come, although she knew it was ever his custom, when at Canaria, to breakfast each morning (he had always eaten solid food, even before the fashion for it). She returned to the passage, saw that his door was open, dared to glance in, saw no-one.

  "Where is Master?" she enquired of an entering servant.

  The machine hesitated. "Lord Jagged has returned to his work, my lady. To his laboratories. His engines."

  "And where are they?"

  "I do not know."

  So Jagged was gone again. Elusive Jagged had disappeared, bearing with him the knowledge which could mean escape to Armatuce.

  She found that she was clenching her hands in the folds of the white smock she wore. She relaxed her fingers, took possession of her emotions. Very well, she would wait. And, in the meantime, she had her new freedom.

  Dafnish Armatuce returned to the breakfast room and saw that Miss Ming had arrived and was arranging sausages and broccoli on a plate to make some sort of caricature. Snuffles, mouth stuffed, spluttered. Miss Ming snorted through her nose.

  "Good morning, good morning!" she trilled as she saw Dafnish. For an instant she stared at bare shoulders and nightdress with her old, heated expression, but it was swiftly banished. "We're going swimming today, my boyfriend and me!"

  "You'll be careful." She touched her son's cheek. She was warmed by his warmth; she was happy.

  "What can happen to him here?" Miss Ming smiled. "Don't worry. I'll look after him — and he'll look after me — won't you, my little man?"

  Snuffles grinned. "Fear not, princess, you are safe with me."

  She clasped her hands together, piping, "Oh, sir, you are so strong! "

  Dafnish Armatuce shook her head, more amused than disturbed by her antics. She found herself thinking of Miss Ming as a child, rather than as an adult; she could no longer condemn her.

  They left in the apple-shaped air car, flying south towards the sea. Dafnish watched until they were out of sight before she returned to her apartments. As she changed her clothes she listened obsessively for a hint of Lord Jagged's return. She was tempted to remain at Canaria and wait for him, to beg him to aid her find Armatuce again, if only for a moment, so that she might warn others of their danger and show those nearest to her that she lived. But she resisted the impulse; it would be foolish to waste perhaps the only opportunity she had to seek the silent and remote places and be alone.

  Walking down to where the air cars lay, she reflected upon the irony of her situation. Without apparent subtlety Miss Ming had first denied her the freedom she was now granting. Dafnish was impressed by the woman's power. But she lacked the inclination to brood on the matter at this time; instead, she relished her freedom.

  She climbed into a boat shaped like a swooping, sand-coloured sphinx. Miss Ming and Snuffles had gone south. She spoke to the boat, a single word: "North."

  And northward it took her, over the sentient, senile cities, the dusty plains, the ground-down mountains, the decaying forests, the ruins and the crumbling follies, to settle in a green valley through which a silver river ran and whose flanks were spotted with hawthorn and rowan and where a few beasts (what if they were mechanical?) grazed on grass which crunched as they pulled it from the soft earth, the sound all but drowned by the splashing of small waterfalls, sighing as the river made its winding way to a miniature and secluded lake at the far end of the valley.

  Here she lay with her back against the turf, spread-eagled and displayed to the grey sky through which the sun's rays weakly filtered. And she sang one of the simple hymns of the Armatuce she had learned as a child and which she thought forgotten by her. And then, unobserved, she allowed herself to weep.

  7. In Which a Man is made

  Lord Jagged remained away from Canaria for many days, but Dafnish Armatuce was patient. Every morning Miss Ming, punctual in arriving, would take Snuffles on some new jaunt, and she was careful to return at the agreed hour, when a joyful boy would be reunited with a mother who was perhaps not so unrelaxed as she had once been; then Miss Ming, with the air of one who has performed a pleasant duty, would retire, leaving them to spend the remainder of the afternoon together. If Dafnish Armatuce thought she detected an unwelcome change in her son's attitude to certain values she held dear, she told herself that this was unreasonable fear, that she would be harming the boy's development if she interfered too much with his ideas. She hardly listened to his words as he described his latest escapades with his friend, but the animation in his voice was music and the sparkle in his eye was sweet to see, and experience, she told herself, would teach him reverence.

  She returned to her private valley time after time, glad that whoever had created it had forgotten it or had, for some reason, omitted to dissimilate it. Here, and only here, could she show the whole Dafnish Armatuce to the world, for here there were none to judge her, to quiz her as to why she spoke or sang, laughed or wept. Her favourite maxims she told to trees; her secret fears were confided to flocks of sheep; and stones were audience to her hopes or dreams. Long for Armatuce she might, but she did not despair.

  Her confidence repaired, she was also able to visit those she chose, and most frequently she visited Sweet Orb Mace, who welcomed her, observing to his friends that she was much improved, that she had learned to accept what life at the End of Time could offer. A few fellow time travellers, also noticing this improvement, guessed that she had found a lover and that her lover was none other than haughty Lord Jagged. As a consequence she was often questioned as to her host's whereabouts (for there was always such speculation where Lord Jagged was concerned), but, while she was not aware of the rumours, she kept her own counsel and added no flax to Dame Gossip's wheel. She courted Sweet Orb Mace (another, but less heavily backed contender for the title of Lover) for the simple reason that he possessed her time machine. He allowed her to inspect it, to linger in its cabin when she wished. She reassured him: She could not attempt to use it, her concern for Snuffles' well-being overriding any desire she might have to return to Armatuce. But, privately, she hoped; and should it be foolish to hope against all evidence, then Dafnish Armatuce was foolish.

  If she had not found happiness, she had found a certain contentment, during the month which passed, and this gave her greater tolerance for herself, as well as for their society. Two more time travellers arrived in that month, and, perhaps unluckier than she, were snapped up, one for Doctor Volospion's menagerie, which he was patiently restocking, one for My Lady Charlotina's great collection. Dafnish spoke to both, and both agreed that they had little difficulty reaching the Future but that the Past (meaning their own period) had been denied them. She refused to be depressed by the information, consoling herself with the prospect of Jagged's help.

  This equilibrium might have been maintained for many more such months had not Miss Ming betrayed (in Dafnish's terms) her trust.

 
It happened that Dafnish Armatuce, returning from visiting Brannart Morphail, the scientist (a visit cut short by the old misanthrope himself), passed in her air car over an area of parkland still occupied by the remnants of small Gothic palaces and towns which had been constructed, during a recent fad for miniatures, by the Duke of Queens. And there she observed two figures, which she recognized as those of Snuffles and Miss Ming, doubtless playing one of their fanciful games. Noting that it was almost time for Miss Ming to bring Snuffles home, Dafnish decided that she would save Miss Ming the trouble and collect him there and then. So the sphinx car sank to Earth at her command and she crossed a flower-strewn lawn to bend and enter the dim interior of the little chateau into which she had seen them go as she landed.

  Having no wish to take them by surprise, she called out, but came upon them almost immediately, to discover Miss Ming dabbing hastily at Snuffles' face. In the poor light it was difficult to see why she dabbed, but Dafnish assumed that the lad had, as usual, been eating some confection of which she might have disapproved.

  She chuckled. "Oh, dear. What have you two been up to while my back was turned?" (This whimsicality more for Miss Ming's sake than her son's). She reached out her hand to the boy, whose guilty glance at Miss Ming seemed more imploring than was necessary, and led him into the sunlight.

  She quelled the distaste she felt for the long red robes of velvet and lace in which Miss Ming had clothed him (Miss Ming herself wore tights and doublet) but could not resist a light: "What would they make of you in Armatuce?" and wondered why he kept his face from her.

  Turning to Miss Ming, who had a peculiar expression upon her own features, she began, "I'll take him —" And then her voice died as she saw the smeared rouge, the mascara, the eye shadow, the paint with which Miss Ming had turned the child's face into a parody of a female adult's.

  Shocked, she trembled, unable to speak, staring at Miss Ming in accusation and horror.

  Miss Ming tried to laugh. "We were playing Princes and Princesses. There was no harm meant…"

  The boy began to protest. "Mama, it was only a game."

  All she could do was gasp, "Too far. Too far," as she dragged him to the air car. She pushed him roughly in, climbed in herself and stood confronting the ridiculous woman. She tensed herself to reduce the shaking in her body and she drew a deep breath. "Miss Ming," she said carefully, "you need not call tomorrow."

  "I hardly think," said Miss Ming. "I mean, I feel you're over-reacting, aren't you? What's wrong with a little fantasy?"

  "This," indicating the cosmetics on the frightened face, "is not what children do!"

  "Of course they do. They love to dress up and play at being big people."

  "I thought, Miss Ming, you played at children. You are a corrupt, foolish woman. I concede that you are unaware of your folly, but I cannot have my child influenced any longer by it. I admit my own stupidity, also. I have been lazy. I allowed myself to believe that your nonsense could do Snuffles no harm."

  "Harm? You're overstating…"

  "I am not. I saw you. I saw the guilt. And I saw guilt on my boy's face. There was never guilt there before, in all the years of his life."

  "I've nothing to be ashamed of!" protested Miss Ming as the air car rose over her head. "You're reacting like some frustrated old maid. What's the matter, isn't Lord Jagged —?" The rest faded and they were on course again for Canaria.

  Metal servants gently bathed the boy as soon as they arrived. Slowly the cosmetics disappeared from his skin, and Dafnish Armatuce looked at him with new eyes. She saw a pale boy, a boy who had become too fat; she saw lines of self-indulgence in his face; she detected signs of greed and arrogance in his defiant gaze. Had all this been put there by Miss Ming? No, she could not blame the silly woman. The fault was her own. Careful not to impose upon him the strictures which she imposed upon herself, she had allowed him to indulge appetites which, perhaps, she secretly wished to indulge. In the name of Love and Tolerance she, not Ming, had betrayed Trust.

  "I have been unfair," she murmured as the robots wrapped him in towels. "I have not done my duty to you, Snuffles."

  "You'll let me play with Miss Ming tomorrow, mama?"

  She strove to see in him that virtue she had always cherished, but it was gone. Had it gone from her, too?

  "No," she said quietly.

  The boy became savage. "Mama! You must! She's my only friend!"

  "She is no friend."

  "She loves me. You do not!"

  "You are that part of myself I am allowed to love," she said. "That is the way of the Armatuce. But perhaps you speak truth, perhaps I do not really love anything." She sighed and lowered her head. She had, she thought, become too used to crying. Now the tears threatened when they had no right to come.

  He wheedled. "Then you will let me play with Miss Ming?"

  "I must restore your character," she said firmly. "Miss Ming is banished."

  "No!"

  "My duty —"

  "Your duty is to yourself, not to me. Let me go free!"

  "You are myself. The only way in which I could give you freedom is to let you come to adult status…"

  "Then do so. Give me my life-right."

  "I cannot. It serves the Armatuce. The race. We have to go back. At least we must try."

  "You go. Leave me."

  "That is impossible. If I were to perish, you would have no means of sustenance. Without me, you would die!"

  "You are selfish, mama! We can never go back to Armatuce."

  "Oh, Snuffles! Do you feel nothing for that part of you which is your mother?"

  He shrugged. "Why don't you let me play with Miss Ming?"

  "Because she will turn you into a copy of her fatuous, silly self."

  "And you would rather I was a copy of a prude like you. Miss Ming is right. You should find yourself a friend and forget me. If I am doomed to remain a child, then at least let me spend my days with whom I choose!"

  "You will sleep now, Snuffles. If you wish to continue this debate, we shall do so in the morning."

  He sulked, but the argument, the effort of thinking in this way, had tired him. He allowed the robots to lead him off.

  Dafnish Armatuce also was tired. Already she was debating the wisdom of allowing herself to react as she had done. No good was served by insulting the self-justifying Miss Ming; the boy lacked real understanding of the principles involved. She had been guilty of uncontrolled behaviour. She had failed, after all, to maintain her determination, her ideals. In Armatuce there would be no question of her next decision, she would have applied for adult status for her son and, if it had been granted, so settled the matter. But here…"

  And was she justified in judging Miss Ming a worse influence than herself? Perhaps Miss Ming, in this world, prepared Snuffles for survival? But she could not support such an essentially cynical view. Miss Ming was disliked by all, renowned for her stupidity. Lord Jagged would make a better mentor; Sweet Orb Mace, indeed, would make a better mentor than Miss Ming.

  All the old confusion swam back into her mind, and she regretted bitterly her misguided tolerance in allowing Miss Ming to influence the boy. But still she felt no conviction; still she wondered whether self-interest, loneliness — even jealousy — had dictated her actions. Never before had she known such turmoil of conscience.

  That night the sleep of Dafnish Armatuce was again disturbed, and there were dreams, vague, prophetic and terrible, from which she woke into a reality scarcely less frightening. Before dawn she fell asleep again, dreaming of her husband and her co-workers in Armatuce. Did they condemn her? It seemed so.

  She became aware, as she slept, that there was pressure on her legs. She tried to move them, but something blocked them. She opened her eyes, sought the obstruction, and saw that Miss Ming sat there. She was prim today. She wore black and blue; muted, apologetic colours. Her eyes were downcast. She twisted at a cuff.

  "I came to apologize," said Miss Ming.

  "There is no n
eed." Her head ached; the muscles in her back were knotted. She rubbed her face. "It was my fault, not yours."

  "I was carried away. It was so delightful, you see, for me. As a girl I had no chums."

  "I understand. But," more gently, "you still intrude, Miss Ming."

  "I know you, too, must be very lonely. Perhaps you resent the fact that your son has a friend in me. I don't mean to be rude, but I've thought it over lots. I feel I should speak out. You shouldn't be unkind to Snuffles."

  "I have been. I shall not be in future."

  Miss Ming frowned. "I thought of a way to help. It would give you more freedom to live your own life. And I'm sure Snuffles would be pleased…"

  "I know what to do, Miss Ming."

  "You wouldn't punish him! Surely!"

  "There is no such thing as punishment in Armatuce. But I must strengthen his character."

  A tear gleamed. Miss Ming let it fall. "It's all my fault. But we were good friends, Dafnish, just as you and I could be good friends, if you'd only…"

  "I need no friends. I have Armatuce."

  "You need me!" The woman lurched forward, making a clumsy attempt to embrace her. "You need me!"

  The wail was pathetic and Dafnish Armatuce was moved to pity as she pushed Miss Ming by her shoulders until she had resumed her original position on the bed. "I do not, Miss Ming."

  "The boy stands between us. If only you'd let him grow up normally!"

  "Is that what you were trying to achieve?"

  "No! We were both misguided. I sought to please you , don't you see? You're so proud, such an egotist. And this is what I get. Oh, yes, I was a fool."

  "The customs of the Armatuce are such," said Dafnish evenly, "that special procedures must be taken before a child is allowed adult status. There is no waste in Armatuce."

  "But this is not Armatuce." Miss Ming was sobbing violently. "You could be happy here, with me, if you'd only let me love you. I don't ask much. I don't expect love in return, not yet. But, in time…"