by Trevor Veale
Letitia looked at him with cold fury. The impudence to say this in front of her! But he wouldn’t be sidetracked.
“I don’t want you to think that I would leave you without a woman, King Godfrey. My son would be delighted to show you a selection of the choicest bordellos.”
“That’s enough!” Godfrey looked blazingly at Slobodan. “I’ll play. But we’ll have to agree on who shuffles first.”
They all fell silent. Letitia blinked hard and suddenly had an idea.
“I’ll do it blindfold!” she said. “I used to be good at cards.”
Slobodan scratched his chin. “All of us here are biased. But a blindfold might give you the necessary impartiality. Let’s do it!”
A servant was dispatched. After a long wait during which Latrina finished off the nuts in the bowl – carpeting the floor with shells – and Slobodan lit up another cigar, he reappeared with a piece of cloth. After being blindfolded, Letitia seized the deck and fanned out the cards. Then, to everyone’s surprise, she gave them a competent shuffle and slapped them down on the table.
Slobodan drew the first card. The wind was whistling around the battlements and Godfrey heard rain running down the window panes. He glanced out one of the high-arched windows and saw clouds scurrying across the sky.
Godfrey drew a card and lost to Slobodan. The game began with Slobodan dealing the first hand. Godfrey won and dealt the second hand. The joker did not appear. Letitia, who had taken off the blindfold, was tired and had reached the end of her endurance. “I’m going to bed,” she said. But before she could do so, Latrina’s cat appeared. Its body flowed around everybody’s ankles while Latrina refilled Slobodan’s glass.
Godfrey refused another slifka, so Latrina sat down and picked up the cat, which glared malevolently at Letitia who was getting up from her chair. Latrina gave her a meaningful look . “Would you like to pet the kitty, Lettie?”
Letitia sighed and gave the cat a token pet. “I have to go to bed otherwise I’ll collapse,” she said. “Goodnight, dear,” she said to Godfrey, kissing his forehead. “I won’t wish you luck because I know you don’t need it. Justice is on your side.”
Latrina let the cat run off her lap, picked herself up and wished Slobodan goodnight. The cat, after giving a deep-throated yowl, humped its back at Letitia – its yellow eyes filled with loathing – and stalked off. Good bloody riddance, Letitia thought.
After the women had left, both men became more relaxed and Godfrey allowed Slobodan to pour him a drink. “Now we can get down and dirty,” Slobodan said. The second hand had ended with Godfrey winning again.
Godfrey settled back in his chair and tried to keep his senses alert. He knew that the convention was that each player had to keep a straight face, only moving his eyebrows, although he was allowed to utter strange curses when looking at his cards.
“Great balls of shit!” Slobodan cursed. He looked at the hand he’d been dealt. Then he fanned the cards out and studied them.
“Twisted testicles!” Godfrey complained, trying to mask his glee at the hand he held. His head was banging with excitement. He was ahead by two hands, and
He knew if he won the third, he could exchange five cards in the fourth hand.
“I’m surprised the joker hasn’t showed up,” Slobodan said. “Of course when it does, one of us will be going to bed happy.”
Godfrey leveled his gaze at Slobodan, who raised an eyebrow. With such high stakes, trickery was an immensely appealing option and Slobodan was known as a trickster.
“You know, I’m really sorry that I have to take your country,” Slobodan said with a sigh. He laid down his hand. “More slifka?” He poured himself one after Godfrey shook his head.
Slobodan had a full house, tens high and Godfrey had a full house, jacks. He was delighted – he’d won the right to discard all five of his next cards.
“Barnacled breast implants – this is all I need!” he said when he saw the next cards.
“Barnacled breast implants? That must be a really bad hand,” Slobodan muttered, then he looked at his own hand.
“Venomous vaginal secretions!” he gasped.
“Red hot rectums – not a good card to save my life!” Godfrey complained. He exchanged all five of his cards, to receive another poor hand. Then he dealt the next cards and they flicked across the table.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like another brandy?” Slobodan asked, picking up his cards and fanning them out. He had two pairs, tens and sixes.
“No thank you,” Godfrey replied. “Cards?”
“One.” Slobodan discarded and drew another ten.
“It’s your turn to call,” Godfrey said.
“Full house, tens.”
That’s funny, he had those cards a few hands ago, Godfrey thought. He folded with a pair of queens.
Slobodan dealt and won the next hand, with kings full on twos.
“About time my luck changed,” he chortled. “I was afraid your winning streak would never come to an end.”
Godfrey began to feel the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. At any moment the joker could make his fateful appearance; then it wouldn’t matter who had the run of the cards. Joker took all.
The winner of the next hand got to shuffle the deck again, and Godfrey knew it was possible to work any card to the bottom during the shuffle. He wondered how good a card sharp Slobodan was.
“Here it comes!” Slobodan said as he dealt his cards. “This is where I clean you out, baby!”
Godfrey picked up his cards and examined them. Four queens and a seven. No joker. He looked at Slobodan whose wrinkled brow indicated that his hand was also jokerless.
Godfrey won the hand and let out a prolonged breath. It was getting like Russian roulette – in fact, it was worse. Instead of blowing his brains out, he would be left without a kingdom – a sad ex-king with a paper crown. It was Godfrey’s turn to shuffle the cards. He mustered all his powers of concentration, urging the joker to flicker his way in the next hand.
Slobodan drank deeply from his glass. “I didn’t realize what a Cool Hand Luke you are!” he said. “I guess my first gamble failed.”
The rain was loud, but Godfrey had no difficulty making himself heard.
“The game’s not over till the joker shows.”
He dealt, and the cards scattered into place.
The lashing rain and howling wind reached a climax. Godfrey cocked his head to listen to the weather – there might be flooding tonight which could delay their departure tomorrow – then he picked up his first card. A two. His second was a nine. His third a jack and his fourth a king. The fifth card seemed to stick to the iron tabletop, and he had to squeeze its edges between thumb and forefinger. It was a queen. The suits didn’t match, so he decided to exchange his two for a possible ten, to make a straight. Then he felt the impulse to swap four cards for the chance of snaring the joker and instant victory.
The straight was his best chance of winning without the elusive joker, but Godfrey ran through the permutations of taking four other cards. There were seven possible ways to win the hand: there was royal flush, four-of-a-kind, full house, flush, straight, three-of-kind, two pairs, or a pair. King high was the lowest possible win. Godfrey decided to discard four.
The first card he dealt himself was an ace. Then came a four, followed by a six. A pair of aces was the best he could hope for now, unless… the fourth card. It flopped on its face like a turtle and lay inert and anonymous. With his spine on fire he lifted its edge with a thumbnail. A plain white edge showed, then – as he pried it – he realized with a jolt that it was a picture. A mean-looking dwarf in a fool’s pointed cap and checkered costume clutching an ax with a double head and trampling the prone body of a peasant. The Slobodian joker. Melloria would stay free!
He flipped the card face up with a sweep of his hand and let out a snort of triumph.
“Here’s your confounded joker, King Slobodan – you’re welcome to him. Melloria remains ours!”
/>
The storm suddenly abated. Looking through the window, Godfrey noticed that the moon had reappeared. Slobodan wrinkled his brow into a concerned frown. He hesitated and his face clouded.
“Ten thousand stinking piles of puke!” he cried. “I’m back to square one.”
He lurched to his feet, scattering his cards on the floor. He had an ace and four tens, but the joker had appeared and he was the loser. He stood and stared with undisguised anguish at Godfrey’s all-conquering card.
“He pulped me, the bastard pulped me in my own palace!” he mumbled to a servant as he stumbled out of the gallery.
Back in the shared bedroom after taking a quick shower, Godfrey wriggled under the covers beside Letitia and sank into the bed as if it were made of angel feathers. Letitia was already asleep and dreaming of her winter wonderland in the Caribbean.
A sudden sharp noise jolted her awake and startled Godfrey. “There’s something in the room!” she whispered to him. Godfrey strained his ears. There it was again a loud caterwauling and the sound of scratching.
“It’s that cat of Latrina’s,” Letitia said. “I don’t know why she keeps that bloody cat – it shreds everything in sight.”
Godfrey, equally rattled by the cat and embarrassed by his fear of it, looked down at his gnarled feet and his hairy, blue-veined legs. He faced the prospect of tackling a ferocious cat barefoot and naked.
“We’re guests here, you know, Dear,” he said. “Perhaps we shouldn’t make a fuss.”
“I’m not sharing my bed with that beast!” Letitia snapped. “What if it gouges my eyes out in the night?”
“I’m sure we can come to some accommodation with it,” he ventured.
“Even if it mauls our faces?”
More used to disciplining bumbling beagles than a howling cat, Godfrey aimed a kick at the cat’s rump. It began to hiss and spit, its fur standing up, its back arched. When he tried to shoo it off the bed, it bared its fangs and lashed out at him.
“Down, boy, down, I say!” Godfrey ordered.
“Godfrey, it’s a cat,” Letitia said wearily. “It won’t come to heel.”
A knock on the door interrupted the cat’s screaming, preceding the green-helmeted head of the soldier who had been detailed to guard them.
“Is everything all right, Your Majesties?”
“I’m afraid not,” Letitia said. “There’s a cat in our bed.”
The soldier called the cat to him – its name was Druid – and it deftly bounded off the bed and out the half-open door. Having done his duty, the soldier saluted the royal couple and prepared to close the door. Godfrey quickly scooped a handful of coins from the dresser, that he’d left for the chambermaid, and pressed them into the soldier’s hand.
The soldier pocketed the coins and inclined his head. “All the peasants would love to kill King Slob and his son,” he said quietly, “but the people are powerless.” He closed the door quickly behind him.
“Well, what do you make of that?” Godfrey said, surprised.
“Let’s get some sleep – I’m too exhausted to think,” was Letitia’s tired reply.
Chapter 46
Basking In Bulimia
The big white circle got bigger as they drooped toward it. The helicopter whipped about in a slow arcing turn and centered itself, bouncing once before coming to a halt. The rotors continued fanning the ground and Godfrey opened the door. He and Letitia tumbled out, then immediately slammed the door closed. The ‘copter was up and away almost at once. With Godfrey in the lead, they hobbled across the tarmac clutching their luggage toward a waiting limousine. King Hector’s Bentley Continental purred up to meet them like a large luxurious cat. Two hours later, the Bentley was whispering past the vineyards, meadows and classical temples of Porcellan Park. They approached the ornate arch supported by stone tiers and looked up at the engraving of the Lattis coat of arms. Letitia counted quarterings of griffins, lions and other heraldic beasts inside the shield.
“Impressive, if a little gaudy,” she commented as they rolled serenely under it. They caught sight of some of the park’s splendors: myrtle trees, rhododendrons, charming grottos and rows of lofty ash trees. Everything looked relaxed and gpeaceful. There were no guards or security men muttering into concealed walkie-talkies, merely a rolling landscape of lakes and hillocks where here and there fluttered the flag of Bulimia: a golden peacock strutting across a royal blue field.
King Hector and Queen Ada stood waiting at the top of the wide marble steps which fronted their resplendent palace. The October sun burnished its sweeping lawns where peacocks roamed, startling guests with their raucous cries. They waited as the Bentley glided to a halt below them, and Letitia, mightily glad to be able to relieve her bursting bladder, got out and rushed up toward them.
Her desperation lent wings to her feet and she raced up the steps, hurtled past Hector and Ada and screamed: “I’ve got to go the throne room – I’ll be back later!”
When she returned, she found the rest of her family in the drawing room. Catheter and Dawna arrived, separately, and everyone talked furiously over Tanquerays and tonic. When Betty, Angus’s nurse, came in and set Angus before his mother, Dawna tried incompetently to feed him with his bottle. Then she called for Betty to handle him, and Catheter immediately scooped him up and carried him on his back around the room. A golden retriever who had also wandered in, frisked in front of Catheter and sniffed the baby’s feet. Hector listened open-mouthed to Godfrey’s account of their adventures, while Letitia herself was tortured by Ada’s jarring, high-pitched voice as she gossiped and complained about everyone, from Hernia and Anton to Catheter and his tangled relationships.
Detaching herself from Ada’s whining, Letitia observed the goings-on and noted that it was a most peculiar, tense and untidy scene. Neither Catheter nor Dawna spoke a word to each other, tempting her to conclude that her worst fears were realized. Eventually Catheter whispered something to his wife, in tense, rasping tones, then left Angus with her and took the golden retriever out of the room. Through the mullioned window Letitia could see him running and roughhousing with the dog, the two of them chasing and wrestling with each other, the retriever tugging at Catheter’s pant leg and ragging him, and Catheter uttering carefree whoops and yells. He’s never like that with his wife, Letitia thought.
She went back to enduring Ada’s chatter, and just as the lunch gong rang, Ada dropped her bombshell, almost as an aside: “And to top it all, that Lucinda girl is pregnant!”
Lunch was served in a large airy room, its walls coated in red and gilt fabric, with blue skies and cherub-infested, puffy white clouds painted on its soaring ceiling. Through the long windows, Letitia glimpsed a profuse, immaculately-tended courtyard with flowers and potted trees. The food they were served was a refreshing change from what they had endured in their months of incarceration in the home and at the ghastly court of King Slobodan. In Bulimia, the royal family ate on a suitably hearty scale, with roast venison, quail chasseur and boar bourguignon, served with style and panache. Catheter was still outside, although a servant had been dispatched to alert him that lunch was served. Anton and Hernia were also absent, but were expected back momentarily.
Hector and Godfrey began a discussion, increasingly incoherent as the brandy flowed, about the political system in Bulimia and what role the monarchy played in it.
“To begin with, I was as much against the introduction of the ballot box as you are,” Hector told Godfrey, “but it’s actually worked out well. We have no trouble getting international bank loans and trading agreements with the advanced nations, and we delegate all that messy legislative stuff to the elected politicians. No more dreary meetings with nagging chancellors that go on all morning – we’re formally consulted, but the decisions are made by others. We then sign the laws in, and if things go wrong the politicos take the blame. It’s a no-brainer.”
“Mm, that sounds good,” Godfrey said, as he attacked a chunk of wild boar. “Especially since bad b
udgetary decisions based on woefully inadequate advice is what got me in this mess in the first place.”
“Another good thing about parliamentary democracy is that you only have to trot round to the House once a year, to unlock the door so to speak. Then you’re done for the rest of the year, unless the political johnnies make some godawful cock-up and you have to dissolve the parliament and hold an election. But that’s a piece of cake too – it just means letting a new lot of johnnies get voted in. All in all, it’s a sweet deal.”
“Mm, I think you may be right,” Godfrey conceded. “With all my aches and pains – and they seem to be getting worse – I could do with a lighter round of duties.” His face clouded. “But first I’ve got to get rid of those damn reds.”
“I wish I could help you out, old chap,” Hector murmured, “but I can’t offer military help, obviously. My hands are tied, and I have to defer to those politicians we were talking about.”
“Damn politicians!” Godfrey growled. “I’d like to shoot the bloody lot of ‘em!”
Hector gave a breezy laugh and tore off a hunk of bread. “You have to allow them some say in what goes on – the poor dears are obsessed with retaining office – something we don’t have to worry about!”
Godfrey nodded his agreement. “A monarchy is like a tough old plant. Once the roots have grown down, it merely has to lay seeds for its continuation.”
“Well said,” Letitia muttered, picking at a strip of wild boar, “but when the seeds have sprouted and borne fruit, it’s time for the tough old plant to retire!”
The arrival of Anton and Hernia shattered the conviviality of the company. They clattered in, Anton wearing a hooded parka and Hernia a black mesh top, leather leggings, thick black combat boots and no bra.
“That girl’s simply frightful!” Letitia whispered to Ada. “She looks like she’s spent half the night soliciting and the other half in the cells.”