Three Kings

by George R. R. Martin

  ‘Good afternoon, Bobbin.’

  ‘Afternoon.’ He glanced up through a fringe of grey hair, embarrassed, and added: ‘I’d offer you a place to sit, but that’s too nice a pair of trousers for in here.’

  ‘I’m happy to stand. And thank you, they’re made by the best.’ Green Man paused to consider his next words. It occurred to him that most of his social interactions over the past thirty years had run along very narrow lines, and that this one fell outside of them. ‘She was right to be worried about you.’

  ‘Constance came to you? About me?’

  ‘She did.’

  ‘Another secret relationship. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.’

  ‘All of my relationships are secret, Bobbin. For the safety of the other party. But there’s nothing sordid about it. Constance is part of the community I protect, as are you. These are dark times for any of us to be alone on the street.’ He gestured pointedly at the piles of refuse, the rats, and lack of comfort. ‘What were you thinking? A man of your age shouldn’t be sleeping rough.’

  Bobbin blinked as if taking in his surroundings for the first time. His face fell. ‘I didn’t plan to get drunk. Didn’t plan to get mugged either. Is … is Constance all right?’

  ‘She’s very upset, but I suspect you knew that.’

  Bobbin scowled. ‘She’s not the only one.’

  ‘So I see. Why don’t you go back and talk to her?’

  ‘No. I thought I knew her. I thought we were …’

  ‘Friends?’

  The tone of his cheeks changed, the blue patches moving closer to navy, the reds deepening to purple; Bobbin’s equivalent of a blush. ‘Yes. But friends don’t lie to each other.’

  ‘Perhaps she was protecting you. Lord knows I’ve got some experience there.’

  ‘I could have handled it.’

  Green Man raised an eyebrow in a manner he hoped Wayfarer would approve of. ‘Could you? Is that why you’re out here, alone, in a pile of rubbish?’

  ‘I … she should have told me the truth.’

  ‘Perhaps she couldn’t. Perhaps she was afraid of losing someone precious. And I dare say you’ve proven her right to be cautious. Now, thanks to you, her fears of being abandoned have come true.’

  Bobbin straightened a little and rubbed at his face with gnarled fingers. The little spikes of bone set between his fingers peeped out now and then, wickedly sharp. ‘I’ve been a right old fool, haven’t I?’

  Green Man allowed himself a small smile. ‘You have.’

  ‘What am I going to do now?’

  ‘That’s up to you, but if you’re asking for advice, you need to,’ he was about to say ‘man up’ but caught himself; it was yet another phrase that, according to Wayfarer, wasn’t acceptable any more, ‘be the man she hoped you were. Go back. Apologize. Be with her.’

  ‘But I’ve said such awful things.’

  ‘You love her.’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I say again: be with her. Constance accepts you, warts and all. That’s a rare thing. Why not do the same for her?’

  ‘No offence, but I never thought I’d be taking relationship advice from, well, the likes of you.’

  ‘Before today, I never expected to be dispensing any.’

  Bobbin shivered. ‘I’m freezing and I could murder a bacon sandwich!’

  ‘Come on.’ Green Man held out a hand. ‘It’s time to go.’

  There was a notable pause and then he lowered it again. Bobbin’s rejection wasn’t surprising, but it still stung. To his horror, he realized that he liked Bobbin and that he wanted Bobbin to like him. The man had an old-fashioned decency to him. He was honourable, trustworthy. The kind of man that would always give you the truth. The kind of man he could finally open up to. No, he told himself firmly. Green Man cannot have the luxury of friends, nor the weakness of needing them.

  He stood there, not quite sure what to say, feeling uncharacteristically and horribly lonely. Perhaps some hint of his emotions found a way through his wooden skin, for Bobbin cleared his throat awkwardly and said, ‘If you don’t mind me asking, do you have someone?’

  ‘Not any more. The person I’d made a life with was many things, but open-minded she was not. When my card turned, that life ended. Besides, I have other responsibilities now.’ His hand travelled unconsciously to his mask. ‘Things that stop me from being close to people. But you? You are free to live as you please. I implore you, take what happiness is being offered and grasp it with both hands.’

  ‘All right,’ replied Bobbin, slowly climbing out of the skip. ‘I will.’

  ‘Let me escort you home.’

  ‘No need for that.’

  ‘I promised Constance I’d bring you back safe, and the Green Man keeps his promises.’

  ‘Really, I’ll be fine.’

  ‘I was being polite, Bobbin, not asking for your permission.’

  There was a pause, and then he nodded, somehow remaining dignified in defeat.

  It was time for afternoon tea, but Noel decided he needed something stronger. He stopped in a pub, ordered a pint and sat brooding over his situation. His wanderings had brought him to the ragged edges of what passed for London’s jokertown. The neighbourhoods surrounding the East End were still predominately the province of the normals. It had been a working-class area, now beginning to be gentrified, to the fury of the nats who dwelled there and the jokers who sensed the walls of the bright young things closing in.

  Noel had lived in Manhattan for a number of years and knew the environs of Jokertown, that original societal reef where the twisted outcasts had washed up after the horrific events of September 15th, 1946. It had been tamed and civilized by the passage of years and the eyes of the curious. There were still dangerous sections where gangs roamed, and places spoken of in whispers, but now tour buses swayed and farted down the streets, there were Starbucks and a Hyatt hotel, and the mask-and-cloak shops sold more to tourists than to actual jokers. Warped and Wonderful was the latest version of Twisted and Tall which had replaced Joker Pride; like its defiant predecessors it was actually just the pathetic cry of the marginalized knowing that they were neither wonderful nor proud.

  He had been so deep in his mental funk he had missed the conversations going on around him, but now one basso voice roughened by cigarettes and booze floated to him.

  ‘Fucking freaks depressed the home values and now the bloody Sloane Rangers are moving in and buying us out.’

  ‘And not paying enough for us to get into anything beyond a bedsit,’ his companion offered with a nasal whine.

  ‘I heard what the King said. I think he’ll put paid to this mess. Otherwise we won’t recognize the country between the bloody Pakis and darkies and the freaks.’

  ‘If you think the Windsors are going to do anything you’re drunker than I thought,’ Nasal scoffed.

  ‘We’ve got the people, and there aren’t enough of them to hold us down. And even if Henry won’t openly back us I wager he’ll keep the coppers off us.’

  ‘Not like that poof Richard.’

  They became aware that Noel was listening. Flint could have struck sparks off the looks he was receiving. He knew in his bespoke suit and expensive watch he had abruptly become the enemy. Noel lifted his glass. ‘God save the King,’ he said.

  It did not have the desired effect. Booze and Smokes decided he was being mocked. He hitched up his trousers and stalked over to Noel’s table. ‘You a bloody estate agent?’

  ‘No, but I suppose that you aren’t going to believe me since you have imbibed enough Dutch courage to think a fight is going to ease your woes. I assure you it will not.’ Noel allowed every rounded vowel of his Cambridge education to drip off the words. His resentment of Henry and his predicament rose up and he found himself anticipating the fight with something akin to joy. He tensed every muscle and waited, vibrating like a greyhound.

  Unfortunately the man had enough low cunning to realize he was facing a p
redator and he backed away. ‘Not worth breaking my knuckles on you,’ he growled. He and his companion made a hurried exit.

  Night was falling as they arrived at the atelier. They’d been forced to avoid public transport and to walk at Bobbin’s pace. More than once Green Man considered calling Wayfarer to pick them up, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. It was a risk being outside but increasingly he resented living in a variety of airless boxes. Just for a while he wanted to enjoy the simple pleasure of going for a walk, like a normal human being.

  Gradually, the houses they were passing became more impressive. The cars parked there newer, more expensive. Though he’d never have been able to afford a place this close to the centre of town, they reminded him painfully of the house he used to have and the life he’d lost. It had been years since he’d really thought about his wife and children, but now all of a sudden they were on his mind all the time. It’s all this death, he thought. It’s making me think too much.

  Bobbin began to slow as they reached the entrance but it didn’t matter. Constance must have been watching out for them and was already unlocking the door as they approached.

  Green Man put his hand gently against Bobbin’s back, urging him forward just as Constance stepped out to meet them. She looked tired. Though smartly turned out, no amount of make-up could hide the worry lines and lack of sleep, nor the burst blood vessels in her eyes.

  ‘I …’ began Bobbin. ‘I’m sorry, love.’

  She threw her arms around him in a fierce hug. ‘Just promise never to run away again.’

  ‘I won’t. I promise.’

  Their faces creased with smiles and happy tears. Green Man decided it was time to go, but as he began to turn away, Constance looked up. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you come in? I’ll make some tea.’

  Bobbin look briefly appalled, but had the good grace to hide it. ‘I’m sure he’s got other places he needs to be.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Constance,’ began Green Man, but paused as he searched for the right words to decline politely. It wasn’t often he had to do anything politely.

  ‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

  Before he could say anything more, she was going back into the shop, and he felt compelled to follow. To do anything else would be rude.

  The space inside felt spacious and elegant. Dove-grey walls and hardwood floors covered by rich oriental rugs. Clearly, Constance had done well for herself.

  As she walked up the stairs she glanced over her shoulder, as if to check that Bobbin was really there. And he was, right behind her. The smile she gave him had the Green Man turning to the window. It was one thing to wish others happiness, but quite another to have to see it close up. He would allow Constance five minutes out of politeness and then make his excuse to leave.

  Constance’s hands shook as she filled the kettle with water. Bobbin was back and the relief poured through her – a river of emotion. Someone had roughed him up. Who it was he hadn’t said. Maybe he didn’t even know. But Constance thought if she ever found out she would do everything in her power to make certain they suffered. Suffered horribly. She could do that. She’d learned a lot in her years.

  She turned to study him. Everything was askew. His hair wasn’t combed properly. There were smears of dirt on his shirt and a tear on the right cuff. The nasty scrape on his left cheek was starting to crust and he smelled of the pub. She was so happy to see him it made her dizzy.

  ‘Constance,’ he said again. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I was so frightened,’ she replied. She was trembling now. ‘I shouldn’t have told you.’

  ‘No!’ he exclaimed. ‘You had your reasons for keeping quiet – and I understand why you finally told me. Was losing Glory, wasn’t it?’ She nodded. ‘And I have secrets from you, too. I was terribly unfair.’

  She wiped her tears on the back of her hand. ‘I know your secret,’ she replied tartly. ‘You’ve been making clothes for Green Man. And how you kept that quiet is beyond me.’

  ‘Well, I do have a life outside work.’ He gave her a crooked smile and she saw that there was a little chip in his front tooth that hadn’t been there before.

  She fished in her cardigan pocket and brought out a tissue, licked it, and began to dab away at his scrape. He took her hand in his own.

  ‘Dear, dear Constance,’ he said. His eyes were turned down at the corners. ‘Please forgive me. I should never have left like that.’

  Constance shook her head. ‘No,’ she replied more calmly than she felt. ‘I should have told you the truth years ago. I should have trusted you. It was a nasty shock for you.’

  ‘It seems we were both fools,’ he said.

  The kettle had boiled and she took her hand away to put a splash in the pot to warm it up. ‘I suppose we’ve left Green Man alone long enough.’

  ‘He’s not so bad, you know,’ Bobbin said. He made as if to pick the tea things up, but Constance shooed him away. ‘He’s been right decent to me.’

  ‘He found you and that makes him fine in my sights.’

  ‘Shall we?’

  Constance nodded. Bobbin was back and everything would be all right.

  ‘There you go,’ said Constance, handing him a cup.

  He took it awkwardly in his left hand, not trusting his right with the delicate china. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Actually, that’s what I wanted to say. For bringing him back.’

  Green Man acknowledged her with a nod and did his best to make small talk. ‘I’ve been enjoying Bobbin’s work for some time now but I’ve never been inside before. It’s a nice set-up you have here.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘This is just the front end,’ said Bobbin. ‘You should see upstairs where the real work happens. There’s some amazing pieces up there, all made by people like me.’

  ‘I’d be happy to show you,’ added Constance.

  It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he set down his cup and went with them upstairs.

  While well kept, the workshop was a much more practical space. Bobbin became quite animated as he showed off the various works in progress, urging Green Man to pay close attention to the different cuts or the quality of the fabric. Each time he talked about who had done which piece of work. The names, Green Man realized, were all familiar. Many of her employees were jokers.

  It was hard to be sure over Bobbin’s commentary, but he thought he heard an odd hissing noise coming from nearby. He looked at Constance. ‘Did you hear that?’

  ‘Hear what?’

  ‘Never mind.’ He listened hard as Constance and Bobbin talked. Not to the words they said, but to the world outside, wondering if the Army were about to make another move on him. Perhaps the hiss was a gas grenade. He shook his head. He’d been behaving like an amateur! Going for walks. Having chats in the open. What had he been thinking? It had been utter foolishness to be out on the streets so long. Had someone seen him and reported it? Yes, that was it. But if the Army were coming, there would be vehicles and a cordon, yet he could still hear the regular sounds of London traffic outside. Of course, they might just be waiting for him to leave …

  The sound of breaking glass confirmed his suspicions.

  ‘That was downstairs,’ said Constance with a look of horror.

  There was more breaking glass, then the sound of things being moved violently: fabric tearing, furniture being overturned, laughter. Not soldiers.

  Green Man very carefully put down the dress-in-progress he’d been shown as Bobbin and Constance stood there, one instinctively reaching for the other’s hand.

  ‘We’ll go down together,’ said Bobbin.

  ‘No,’ Green Man said quietly. ‘Stay up here and barricade the door. I’ll deal with this.’

  He went to the window, opening it as wide as it would go and then climbed outside and jumped down to the street below. He landed more heavily than intended, rocking forward onto all fours with a thud. This isn’t gett
ing any easier, he thought.

  Pushing himself upright, he turned to face the main entrance.

  The door was kicked in, as was the display window, and the sign had been sprayed over in lurid red paint that read:

  JOKER LOVER!

  And just below it was the sign of the letters BF in a circle that he knew all too well.

  He counted five of them inside, leaping around with manic energy. They were all wearing jeans and workman’s boots, loose tops and dark jackets. They hadn’t even bothered to cover their faces. Already, the neat insides of the shop had been transformed by the intruders. A pile of clothes had been dumped in the middle of the room and set on fire. He noted sadly that the delicate china tea set they’d just used was now just a scattered pile of shards. One of the men was spraying everything he could see, while three others were destroying whatever was within reach with boots, hands and a sharp knife. The last was standing by the door on lookout. He had already seen Green Man, and was pointing at him. ‘You ain’t welcome here!’

  ‘That makes six of us,’ he replied, stepping up to the door and grabbing the young man by his shoulder. As usual, his opponent had underestimated just how far he could move in one step, and just how long his reach actually was.

  ‘Get your filthy hands off me!’ he shouted, the words coming out more like a plea than a command as he vainly struggled to free himself.

  Green Man raised his voice so it would carry into the shop. ‘The only law I follow is five for one, and happily, there appears to be five of you.’

  ‘Oh shit,’ said one of them, ‘it’s the Fists!’

  ‘B-but we haven’t killed anyone,’ said the one in his grasp. ‘You can’t!’

  ‘Oh, I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to break you, the same way you’ve broken this lady’s property.’ He squeezed for emphasis, making the man scream. ‘And I’m going to educate you all in the process.’