by Trevor Veale
Unable to stop herself, Latrina poured more misery into her brother’s ear.
“Just think of the diseases an unwashed piece of pig’s flesh can harbor: cholera, diphtheria, typhoid, botulism, bubonic plague – “
Godfrey pushed her away. His face like thunder, he delicately picked up the slice of meat. With one quick swallow, he dropped it into his mouth and gulped it down.
Slobodan roared with approval. “You the man, Godfrey!” he bellowed. Latrina threw her arms around her brother until he pried her off. Then he climbed unsteadily to his feet and silently offered his arm to Letitia. Her eyes had grown heavier but her resolve remained firm. Only after she stood up did she realize how tired she was.
When they reached their bedroom, guided by a surly servant, Letitia bellyflopped onto the blue chenille bedspread. It seemed to fly up to meet her. The bed was hard and lumpy, and she groaned and turned over. She gazed at the room. She hadn’t expected luxuries – no large fluffy towels and robes and an array of cosmetics. Nor did she expect any kind of maid service, no lemon tea to sip while lying on linen sheets flipping through Country Life, no maid to pass a plate of quince through the shower curtain while lolling in the warm caress of a bubble bath. She hadn’t expected anything like that, but it would have been very nice.
The bed linen looked decent enough, if a little plain, and at least the bed was queen-sized. She propped her head on the pillow, aware that she was floating after eating so much pork and drinking that awful slifka. She felt she would soon be puking. Afterwards, she would be punished by her dreams.
Godfrey had gone straight into the bathroom and she could hear him retching. She slid off the bed, and went up to the bathroom door.
“Are you all right, dear?” she called.
Inside, Godfrey inserted his finger once more down his throat and leaned over the toilet. When the last wave of nausea had passed through him, he rinsed his mouth and brushed his teeth. Then he emerged from the bathroom, white and drawn, and began undressing.
“We’d better get some shuteye while we can,” he said weakly. “God knows what horrors tomorrow will bring.”
Letitia went into the bathroom, which she found surprisingly clean, struggled off her clothes and took a soak in the tub. Back in bed, she sank down gratefully, closed her eyes and drifted off. As she fell asleep, she heard the wind groaning outside, rattling the windows. A storm’s brewing, was her last waking thought.
In the corridor outside their bedroom, an armed guard took up his position, his hands on an assault rifle, and chewed on a nugget of Saint smuggled in from Melloria. The hall in front of him was dark and silent.
Chapter 45
A Touch Of Evil
Godfrey and Letitia came down for breakfast and sat side by side. No one else was there except Slobodan, eating a bowl of pork and plum broth.
“Latrina not up yet?” Letitia asked, to break the silence.
Slobodan grunted something inaudible and piled salt onto his broth. As he had been serving himself, Letitia decided to do likewise and placed a croissant on her small plate. She started to eat, feeling uncomfortable. God, he’s still scheming of a way to seduce me, she thought. He thinks he has territorial rights over me as well as my country. Godfrey, why the hell can’t you see what’s going on? She looked up at Godfrey, but he was filling his bowl with pork broth.
“Did you sleep well?” Slobodan asked.
“Passably,” she said, maintaining her distance.
“You look perky this morning, Letitia.” His voice had gone husky.
“Well, I don’t feel it,” she replied truthfully. When Godfrey looked up from his bowl, Slobodan’s manner changed and his bearing became more controlled.
“Royston will be here shortly,” he told Godfrey. “He wants to give you a chance to see what your Mellorian army will be up against when – ”
“Can I come too?” Letitia asked suddenly. She had a sick feeling in her stomach.
Slobodan leered at her, tilting his head to one side and smiling.
“This is strictly for men,” he said. “If you’re at a loose end for something to do, may I suggest a little walk with me and my – ”
Suddenly there was a stir of activity at the far end of the dining hall. Prets standing guard snapped to attention. Prince Royston, dressed in the uniform of High Commander of the Praetorian Guard, strode up to the table and bowed politely to Letitia. Then he saluted Godfrey, who was wearing his commander-in-chief’s uniform. Godfrey returned the salute.
Royston began talking rapidly to his father in Slobodian while Letitia gave him an oblique glance. He was tall, like his mother, and in his mid-forties. His features were vigorous, with dark hair racing back from his bronze temples. His fists were clenched as he talked, and he had a knowing cynical look. At one point in the conversation he turned and stared at her with a hard, unblinking look and, in spite of herself, she lowered her eyes. When she looked up again, he was still watching her, his face like granite. She felt intensely uncomfortable, as if she were being sized up. She reddened and clutched her tea cup tightly.
Despite her discomfort, however, she couldn’t stop stealing glances at him. All his features were sharp and definite: a set jaw, a straight precise nose, a lean but sturdy body. He wasn’t what she would have called handsome, but he was impressive, and more than a little disturbing.
By comparison, Slobodan was almost reassuringly rough and tumble, with his sagging jowls and thick waistline. Royston did most of the talking during the conversation while Slobodan listened, his mouth opened in concentration. Letitia tried not to look at him, knowing it might elicit a smile and flirtatious words. In fact, once the conversation was over and he noticed she had finished breakfast, Slobodan lumbered over to her and stood behind her chair. “May I?” he said, and without waiting for consent, lifted her arm by the wrist and escorted her from the table. It felt weird to be given such gentlemanly attention by a man she considered a monster, but she let him take her by the arm to a couch by the window. He gave her arm a little squeeze before letting her sit down.
Latrina came into the hall, wearing the same dressing gown as the night before, and sat down at the table. She was ignored by the men and Letitia began to feel sympathetic toward her, seeing what she had to endure. She returned Latrina’s sleepy greeting with a tight smile.
Royston, who had been talking quietly to Godfrey, turned his attention to Slobodan.
“Stop flirting, Father,” he said. “It’s high time we got down to business.”
Slobodan smiled sheepishly. “Are you ready to give King Godfrey his eye-opener?”
A faint smile appeared on Royston’s face. “I’m ready to show King Godfrey what the Slobodian armed forces can do – and you’re coming with us. It’s not safe to leave you alone with Queen Letitia.”
Godfrey finished the last of his broth and stood up. Royston looked at Letitia from across the table.
“We must take our leave,” he said. “Mother will keep you company and show you the palace and gardens. I wish you a pleasant morning.”
Letitia watched the three men leave. Why do I have a feeling of the presence of evil? she wondered.
Queen Letitia, who had been enjoying an afternoon nap, awoke with a start. King Slobodan and his son, Prince Royston, after knocking roughly on the door, had entered the bedroom with two paramedics carrying her husband on a contrivance that looked a small sedan chair. Godfrey’s expression had a sickly hue, and he grasped the sides of his chair. He was dumped unceremoniously on the bed and when Letitia asked how he had come to be in such a state, Royston glared at her as if blaming Godfrey for his unconsciousness and rapped: “We had just begun to show him our Slobodian Shock and Awe!” Slobodan mumbled something about a dizzy spell and a fall. She looked at them incredulously; then they trooped out of the room, Slobodan saying he hoped to see her and Godfrey at dinner. She mopped Godfrey’s forehead with a handkerchief as he dozed for the next hour.
When Godfrey awoke she pro
pped his head on the pillow and looked at him with extreme disquiet.
“You were out for a good long time, old thing,” she said. “How are you feeling?”
He shot her a glance as if to say Don’t ask! And pulled himself up with an effort. “I must have blacked out,” he rasped, “I don’t understand it. One minute I was being blasted with explosions and mock attacks on an enemy that’s clearly meant to be us, Royston telling me as much, and the next…I was on my back, gasping for air. I don’t remember much after that. How did I get here, on the bed?”
“Slobby and Royston brought you in here in a kind of wheelchair. They were both in a perfectly foul mood. They dumped you like a sack of potatoes!”
Godfrey scratched his head. “I’ve had a few dizzy spells before, but nothing like this…I suppose I’ll have to see a medic at some point.” “Is there any tea in that pot?” he asked.
There was a pot of tea and two cups on the dresser, and Letitia got up to pour.
“Actually, although I’ve said bad things about her, she’s really quite a dear,” she said, handing him his cup and saucer. “Latrina, I mean. She sent a servant up here a minute ago with some Earl Grey – she knows how much I like it.”
Outside the wind was blowing hard. The early morning sunshine had given way to thundery showers and the threat of storms. The sound of marching feet could be heard, and suddenly a song burst out of the marchers:
“Today we take Melloria, tomorrow the whole wide world!”
“They definitely intend to attack us,” Godfrey declared. “They’re just waiting for the economy to hit rock bottom, and the way the People’s Party are running the country into the ground that won’t be long.” Then he groaned and let his head sink. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get us out of this mess,” he said, half to himself. He saw their chances of escape floating away like a scrap of paper in the breeze. Letitia looked at her husband with softness in her eyes, realizing what a heavy burden of responsibility he carried as king of an occupied country.
“Drink your Earl Grey,” she said. “It’s an excellent pick-me-up.”
He took the cup and sipped from it. He was soothed by the hot pungent liquid and, as he sipped, she placed both hands on his upper back and began gently massaging his back and shoulders. He felt the earlier dread and anguish drain out of his system, to be replaced by an insistent nagging sensation that he couldn’t quite get a handle on.
He finished his cup and sat staring out the window at the blustery gray afternoon.
“How are we going to do it? That’s what I can’t figure out,” he said, lost in his thoughts.
“Shouldn’t we…” she searched her mind. “…shouldn’t we offer Slobodan something?”
“Like what? Paul Slamil said I didn’t have a pot to piss in!”
“And I gave up my diamond ring for a phone call to Cathy,” she said. “And he sounded like he could care less whether we get out of here or not…I mean, shouldn’t we offer him some means of releasing us without losing face? You know how important face is to these Slobodians,”
“I suppose I could always challenge him to an arm-wrestling contest,” he said reflectively. “A safe passage for us out of here if I won…”
Letitia put her arm around him and held him in silence. He was desperate to get back to Melloria, to claim the sovereignty of his nation, the country he was born and raised to rule. He was dedicated to being king and she loved him for it, although she hoped this year of monarchy would be their last.
The gray afternoon darkened into a cold, rainy evening. Godfrey and Letitia, hand in hand, came down to dinner. Rain streaked the high narrow window panes in the gigantic dining hall, and the atmosphere was as damp and depressing as the weather. Slobodan and Latrina were the only ones sitting at the long table, and the absence of Prince Royston only served to deepen the gloom. When Godfrey and Letitia had taken their seats, Slobodan nodded to a waiting servant and the first covered dishes were brought in. Slobodan sat cracking each of his knuckles in turn, and when Letitia, who found his habit was setting her teeth on edge, gave him a rude look, he turned his weary eyes to Godfrey.
“I hope you’re feeling better,” he said.
“Yes, thank you, much better,” Godfrey said. “Is Prince Royston joining us for dinner?”
“No, he’s dining out tonight,” Slobodan replied, somewhat flustered. “Fact is, we had a blistering row after you blacked out.”
Godfrey allowed himself a moment of pleasure. He’d given Royston cause for anger, and he suddenly felt happier.
Latrina looked somewhat sedated, and turned her sleepy eyes to Godfrey.
“Oh, Godders, you blacked out? It must have been all that drinking last night. Tonight we’ll treat you more tenderly.”
“Thank you, Trina,” Godfrey replied. “I intend to take things more quietly from now on.”
The first dishes were uncovered and what looked like pink fleshy slabs of Spam in a murky broth was set before them.
“This is Slobodia’s national dish,”Latrina said. “It’s poached salt pork with vegetables in a plum brandy sauce.”
Letitia grimaced. It had to be a pork dish, didn’t it? She tasted one of the pink slabs on her plate. Yes, definitely Spam – and it tasted like they’d left it in the fridge too long.
“Delicious,” she said diplomatically. Latrina gave her a wan smile.
“Have some more vegetables,” she murmured, and handed Letitia a bowl which contained carrots with their roots attached, roughly chopped beets and slices of eggplant with holes in them. Is the Slobodian soil really that bad? She wondered, declining the vegetables.
The rest of the meal was memorably bad, especially the cheesy potato dumplings with edible toadstools.
“At least the marinated herring is agreeable,” Letitia whispered to Godfrey.
“It should be,” he whispered back, “it’s from a jar and it’s imported.”
The pudding was the last dish to be served, and tasted like cacah that had been left out in the rain. After taking a few nibbles, Godfrey and Letitia pushed their plates aside and waited for Slobodan to finish. At the rate he’s wolfing this muck down, he’ll be too logy for slifka, Godfrey thought with some relief. I don’t fancy having to match him drink for drink.
When he’d cleaned his plate, Slobodan looked up and wiped his mouth.
“Are we all ready for a glass or two?” he asked.
“We are,” Godfrey said wearily, “but let’s not drink more than two.”
At the word ‘two’ there was a flash of lightning outside, followed by a roll of thunder.
They all got up and shuffled out to the gallery, where nuts and a nutcracker had been left on the wrought-iron table, and Latrina took a handful and began cracking. Soon nutshells were all over the carpet. Meanwhile Slobodan lit up a foul-smelling cigar and left it smoking in the ashtray, close to where Letitia was sitting.
This is psychological warfare, she thought, wincing as a piece of nutshell tinged against her glass. They’re doing this to intimidate us, but we’re made of sterner stuff!
Godfrey drank two glasses, then put his hand over the glass when Slobodan attempted to fill it again. He was growing tired of Slobodan’s bonhomie.
“When can we leave your country?” he asked.
Slobodan picked up the cigar to find it had gone out and struck a match to relight it. The glow made his face look lurid. “What you have to realize,” he said, “is that I must first have your kingdom.”
“If you want Melloria you’ll have to kill me first,” Godfrey said.
“And me too,” Letitia added.
“That’s the trouble,” Slobodan said. “If I kill you and little Angus too – “
“No!” Latrina shouted.
“Okay, we’ll adopt him and bring him up as a Slobodian.” He laughed harshly. “That’s what Royston and I were arguing about. He wants to use you two as hostages to keep the People’s Party under our thumb. I told him he was barking mad. Fact
is, though, one way or another we’re going to take your kingdom.”
“Over my dead body,” Godfrey said.
“Royston tried to scare you by showing you our military might, and he failed – as I knew he would,” Slobodan went on. “He believes in fear and intimidation and I believe in charm and cunning. If you want to get the kingdom off a king, it’s like getting the panties off a woman.” He looked at Letitia and smiled. “You have to use guile.”
“I hope you’re not thinking of seducing me,” Godfrey said.
Slobodan roared with laughter.
“You can rest easy, King Godfrey – I’m no bumboy!” he put down his cigar. “What I’m proposing is that we have a contest, a game to decide who gets Melloria, after the People’s Party have run out of steam.”
The others looked at him curiously.
”Let me offer you a deal,” he said, “and if you win, you can both fly out to Bulimia tomorrow – I’ll even loan you the use of my ‘copter.”
“What’s the game?” Godfrey said casually. Outside the rain was coming down in torrents.
“I’ve thought long and hard about this,” Slobodan said. “I’ve considered arm wrestling and coin tossing – the first would give me an advantage, but you’re such a dark horse… the second is much too chancey, unless one of us cheats… finally I settled on five card poker – Slobodian style.”
Godfrey frowned, trying to remember the Slobodian game. He’d played it in his army days and knew that it differed only from regular five-card in a few respects, the main one being the supremacy of the joker. It guaranteed instant victory. “
“What if I refuse?” he asked.
Slobodan gave him a malicious smile.
“Then all bets are off, and you and your family will remain, until… meanwhile you’ll be eating our delicious Slobodian cuisine, attending military parades to admire our invincible Slobodian armed forces, and of course, I’ll be doing my best to seduce your lovely wife.”