Infinite Blue Heaven - A King and A Queen

by Lazlo Ferran

  The stairs were now wooden and rose in a spiral, at first gentle, but becoming tighter and tighter as I ascended. Many to the steps gave way under my feet and I knew, nobody would ever come this way again. Indeed I would probably not come down but I still didn’t care. At one point, I reached a narrow opening and I peered out. I could just make out the tops of the mountains to the north, there was old Nicolai, a mountain that looked like a grinning old wine-merchant, with a long winding beard. I continued on, now using my hands as well and feeling a growing pain in my back. My body would probably not go much further. I kept thinking, ‘around the next bend,’ but of course there was just one continuous bend, torturing me and yet leading me on. Finally, unutterably weary, I forced myself up the last stair and onto a level space. I sat down heavily and leaned against the wooden wall, to one side of the stairs. There, I closed my eyes for a long time, drawing breath in long painful gasps. But I was elated. I was there. I had reached the top! I was aware of quite a strong wind, whistling around my face and swishing my garments. I opened my eyes and looked out. It was almost black outside, the moon being nearly at the end of its last quarter. Eventually, I had the strength to stand and I did so, holding firmly onto some wooden pillars in the small open space, only about a verst wide, both ways. There was a roof but I could barely make it out. Just then I heard a fierce ‘cawing’ and noticed a plague of crows swooping at the opening to my right. Then, looking down at my feet, I could make out the object of their concern. A very large nest, flung together from twigs and rags. Indeed the platform was in a terribly sorry state. Parts of the roof were missing and I could see the stars above me now. One of the four wooden pillars yawed awfully when I leaned against it. The whole construction was moving. I looked down and at first could only see a few twinkling lights, where I supposed the City to be. Then at last I could make out some shapes, buildings and then the river, like a band of black glass. I was amazed how far away and how tiny it was. This was a perspective I had only ever experienced in the mountains. Not even as a boy, had I dared come up here. Finally, I did laugh, a deep, hearty laugh and I felt tears in my eyes. It was partly gladness to be alive, after that great battle, partly bitterness and my predicament and partly something I could not identify. I had a secret. Oh yes! A very big secret. Not even Shakira knew this one. It seemed that only up here, way above the Palace corridors, could I open myself to it, let it out. Then I felt at peace and I slumped to the floor. I sat there for what seemed an age, my mind still. Then I realised I had to get down. ‘This will not be easy, I will probably die’ I thought and this gave me the strength to attempt it. On all fours, half sitting, half sliding, I attempted the first few feet and I remembered the section, about forty steps down, where there were four missing and a yawning black gap took their place. I bridged this with my feet and then pushed myself upright with my hands and from here on, I attempted to descend normally. Many times I fell and had to hold on to the walls of the narrow corridor, only an arms-length apart, to stop myself falling. At last I reached the relative safety of the stone stairs and it was only then that I realised the full enormity of the madness that had taken me. I continued down, shaking my head and muttering, “I could have died,” and, “Why was I so stupid?”

  But as I approached the lower levels of the Palace, expecting to find it peaceful and awaiting my arrival, I was astonished to find a kind of revelry taking place. I was still too drunk to care, I simply wondered at it.

  As I passed the great oak doors, behind which was the Banquet Hall, where Shakira and I had once played, I thought I could hear shouting and laughing. I stopped for a moment to listen but could not make out from whence it came. I was tired now and wanted to reach my own chambers and at least lie down, if not sleep. But as I descended and neared our wing, I was passed by several lesser courtiers, clutching each other, obviously drunker than I. They laughed at me with bleary eyes, before realising who I was and cautiously they stood upright.

  “Sire!” they said as one and bowed. One raised his wine goblet to me. “Drink Sire?”

  I must have frowned at them although I admit I was tempted to join them. I was feeling pretty good but the one thing that bothered me, was that all this was happening without my foreknowledge and permission. I would find out who had given their permission. I must admit, weariness was taking me and it was only through one, half-open eye, that I started to notice, all was in disarray. Wine goblets, upturned and bleeding their bitter juice, were everywhere, as were plates of the best cakes, meats and fruit. Little of it seemed to have been eaten. Little red pools dotted the polished floor, either side of the red carpet, and showed as dark stains, upon it.

  Many of the candles were out or burned down and whole sections of corridor, were in darkness.

  ‘What is this?’ I thought.

  I thought I heard a horse somewhere. In the Palace? It couldn’t be. Just then, what looked like a chicken raced by, looking as if its tail had been scorched. I had to laugh.

  If somebody then, had handed me a goblet of wine, I would have drained it. I had always enjoyed a good party in my youth and now seemed an appropriate time for one. Perhaps I had underestimated just how much tension had built up during the ‘War.’

  And then somebody did hand me a goblet. It was Kospan. I swung around a corner into the main corridor, which led to our Anti-Chamber, and there he was, one of many, standing next to a row of trestle tables, draped with the finest green covers, holding court.

  “Ah. Our illustrious leader!” He said it with just enough sincerity, not to sound sarcastic.

  I grinned at him. “What’s going on, Kospan?”

  “Going on?” A party of course. Can’t remember the reason why, the War is over, seems as good a reason as any.

  “But who organised it. Who gave permission?” I found myself feeling ashamed to ask.

  “Ahh!” He raised his index finger and placed it neatly against the side of his nose, as if to ponder. “I’m not sure but I think it may have been your loverly Princess and her entourage!” he finished the word ‘entourage’ with a flourish.

  “Entourage? What entourage?” I asked. I had not heard of her having an entourage. Everything seemed topsy-turvy.

  “Have some wine, Sire! Just one. I am sure everything is in order and after all, you deserve it. We are all, forever in your debt.” His voice rose like a bird to the word ‘all’ and then descended gracefully to an almost intimate ‘debt.’ He swung close to my face with the last word, a full golden goblet of red wine in his outstretched arm to balance him, and then pulled his face back, replacing it with the goblet. It was such a balletic movement, I laughed out loud and took the goblet.

  “I surely will. To your health Kospan. And to that of everybody else!” All the folk in the corridor shouted their approval and downed whatever they had, or could get hold of.

  I had only intended to have one goblet full but a pile of silk cushions were brought and I found myself comfortably reclined, listening to the tales of others and holding all in thrall, as I told of the War

  Time passed and soon I felt unwilling to stand. I would have quite happily fallen asleep there, eventually, after some meat, some more wine and a few good tales but some thin waif of a thought snatched at the very back of my conscious mind. I kept trying to dismiss it but it held on. When, finally, half the host were silent, with sleep, or drowsy thought, I brought it gently into the open and examined it. Yes, indeed, I should check on Shakira. The Palace was no longer a safe place and I was concerned for her. It would also save me from certain risk if I slept here. After an effort, I rose, unsteadily. Ahmed, second cousin to Kospan, his turban half covering his eyes, clung to my sleeve and I had to half pick him up too.

  “No. Don’t go. We want more stories.”

  I jerked my sleeve free. “In a few minutes you will be asleep, friend. I must go.”

  “But where can you go?”

  “The Princess.”

  “Ahh. Yes the Princess.” Then his eye was closed an
d he was silent, cradling a jug of wine.

  I started off down the corridor, turning right and crashing into the oak door at the entrance to our Private Chambers. Where was Gregor? I looked but could hardly see. I had to actually circumnavigate the huge old table in the middle of the room, before I found him asleep in front of the hearth, Bear resting his huge head on his master’s lap. I leaned down to pat the great dog’s head and nearly fell over. He started at the noise and recognising me, whimpered in his friendly way. The old dog looked troubled though, somehow, sad.

  I straightened up, murmuring to myself, ‘Madness in the Palace’ and went back to the door. I had to push it open and nearly slipped on the red stain on the polished floor.

  I had nearly reached the door to Shakira’s chamber when I saw something heaped against my own door. Naturally I was curious and went over to it. I shall never forget what I saw.

  It was Geb-Gaban. There was blood everywhere; the red that I had slipped on had not been wine but his blood. It led in a smeared trail back to the door. My first thought was that he must be dead.

  “Geb. Geb! Are you alive? What has happened?” I found that I wanted to shake him, I was so angry, as if somehow he were to blame, and if I shook him hard enough he would wake up and all would be alright. His eyes opened and his mouth moved but no intelligible sound came out.

  “Ph God! What have they done?” I looked down to his wounds and could see that both of his hands had been hacked off. The stumps had been crudely cauterised by fire so that he would not die immediately. But he surely would die. He opened his mouth and grinned at me. I could see blood gurgling out of his mouth but I could also see that he had no tongue.

  “The Bastards! I will kill them. I will kill every last one so painfully they will wish they had never been born.”

  “Wait here. I’ll get help. I’ll come back. Oh God Geb. Hold on.” I ran to the great table and grabbed a long knife, which I then used to cut the cord which tied his ankles. I then paused, half standing as a thought filled my mind. ‘Cut yourself.’ It was true, I was drunk and even the adrenalin now coursing through my veins was not enough to help me. I hesitated for a moment before cutting a long red line in my wrist. I barely felt the pain but the blood dripped in a ragged line from my arm. I dropped the knife and stumbled to the corridor, shouting for Guards. I cursed the intelligence which once again had me deep in its grip. What fiendishly evil intelligence was it that could trap me so completely? It was a cruel intelligence that would do this to Geb and on a night when help would be hard to find. I could not find one sober Guard, barely any were even awake. I half slid down the narrow winding staircase which lead to the servant’s quarters and old Igor’s room, the old man had served as the Palace surgeon in recent times. He had been an army surgeon in his youth but now he was just a drunk old man even on a normal day. By good fortune, he was there, although his head rested on the table next to a large wooden flagon of wine. I leaned on the table, close to his head and gently held his head up. “Igor, wake up. You must wake up.” Now the extra adrenalin from the cut and my anger combined to lead me to near sobriety and some coherent thoughts. I shouted at him.

  “Igor. Wake up now!”

  “Huh?”

  I slapped him hard on both cheeks. The red in his bleary eyes, as they opened, matched the rosettes appearing on his cheeks. He tried to focus on me but failed. He squinted and pulled back.

  “It’s me, Vaslav.”

  “King Vaslav?”

  “Yes. It’s me. There are terrible things going on. You’ve got to wake up. I need you to operate.”

  He laughed. “Operate? Now? Son you are mad! I am drunk. Drunk as a King! There was a party. I am sure there was. It was great. All the maids were drunk too and I danced with Olga! D’ya know Olga. I felt her breasts. But I’m not supposed to talk to you!”

  “What am I? The Devil?” He started rambling and I shook him. “Where’s the coffee Igor?” The main kitchen was through a door on the other side of his apartment and I knew he could tell me where to find some coffee.

  “Oh I don’t know, on the main bench on this wall to the right of the door. In a black pot, marked sorrel.”

  I opened the door into the great kitchen and found the pot. It smelled like coffee. I hunted for, and eventually found, a pot of lukewarm water and made him drink three full mugs of thick treacly coffee.

  After a long search to find his, long-unused, instruments, we set off at a lurch, back towards Geb-Gaban. I used all the back corridors, trying to avoid any of the Enemy. The Enemy! In my Palace! What had things come to?

  My heart was racing and I was having to talk myself into calming down. It had all taken too long and I was sure Geb would be dead.

  We turned the last corner and I looked nervously at him as we approached. I lifted his head and there was a very faint moan.

  I looked round and up at Igor. The old man’s mouth was open and he was frozen to the spot. I had to stand up and shake him.

  “Igor! Igor! This man will die if you don’t help him. Do what you can. Do you need me for anything? I cannot stay long.”

  “He’s dead anyway, Sire.”

  Shaking, Igor crouched down, dropping his bag of instruments and started feeling Geb around his wounds. “Wait a minute! Wait! Let me see.”

  Remarkably professional, he made an assessment of his condition and shook his head.

  “Go Sire. There is nothing you can help me with here. I will use fire from your hearth to cauterise his tongue. With luck, he may live. Go!”

  I stood thinking for just an instant. I had to have help and I knew some of the Guards would be faithful to me. Even better would be soldiers. I had to get to the barracks.

  I stood and turned but at that moment I heard the sound of many feet approaching and the tiny unmistakable sounds which armour and weapons make when soldiers try to move quietly.

  I ran back to my Chambers and crashing through the doors I passed our bedroom, shouting Shakira’s name as I ran. As I suspected, she was not there. I carried on to the secret exit and on, down to the rear of the Palace and the stables. Reaching them without incident, I ran around the Palace towards the barracks and saw two guards talking in the gloom. I stopped to listen to them. I sucked the blood from my wrist, which now throbbed with a dull pain.

  “It’s a bad business and I don’t like it! I am not one of Bulya’s minions and neither are you! We’ve served the King all our lives and he’s looked after us. You know he has!”

  “No he ain’t. Our pay is the same as it has been for three years now. It’s not enough! My farm is on crap land too! What with that and the old girl pregnant with her third, I need more money! But does anybody listen? No! I say let’s go with he who looks after us best.”

  “You mean he who pays best! Huh. I don’t know what’s got into you, Seb.”

  Here was a good opportunity for me. One I could not trust but the other I could. How could I separate them? For a moment, I considered killing the one but they were also friends and the other would hate me for it. I crept a sachine further away and stood up, as I judged, on the edge of their vision. I had seen that the loyal one was a Corporal, by the colour of his plume on his dress uniform.

  I called out, “Corporal?”

  The man I wanted, spun to face me and saluted. “Yes. Sir.” There was a pause between the first and second word and an uncertain note in the second.

  “Come here a moment. I wish to speak to you.”

  He hesitated.

  “Obey me!”

  He came and I turned to walk away, saying, “Come with me.”

  He fell in beside me. I turned to check the other wasn’t following. I kept my face hidden from the Corporal until I was sure we were out of earshot of the other. Then I let him know my identity.

  “Sire! I worried that you were dead! There is a most dreadful revolution – yes that is what it is, revolution, going on!”

  “I know. I have been slow to realise it but now we must act. Which Gener
al is most loyal to me? I could guess myself but I need you to tell me. Upon this choice would hinge success or failure.”

  “Both Lord Abutalip and Lord Sabitzan are loyal to you but Sabitzan is visiting his wife, or some say the Brothels, in the City. You will not find him in a hurry.”

  “Alright then. Take me to Abutalip.”

  We reached Abutalip’s office and sure enough he was there, reading and quietly drinking a glass of red wine with a sleeping girl naked beside him on his bed. He sprang up to salute, looking slightly ashamed.

  “Sire!” With only a slight hesitation, he launched into an angry speech. “I am not happy with the situation here Sire! What is going on? Who is in command? You or Kospan?”

  “Kospan? In charge? What has been going on?”

  “Late this afternoon I heard that you had been taken ill, nothing serious. ‘Flu and exhaustion,’ they said and that Lord Kospan had ordered a party for everybody this evening. That every soldier should stand down and drink and eat as much as he liked! At first I thought it strange but I must admit, I am weary and some relaxation seemed like a good idea.”

  “Then, just as my men and I started to get fair drunk, as you might say, a rumour started going around that you had left the Palace and that Lord Kospan was now in command.”

  “This was when I started to think something was wrong. I spoke to some of the men, the most loyal, and we agreed that we should go to our rooms and remain vigilant. Since then I have been waiting here, to see what would happen. I was ready to fight for you, Sire, if anything had happened. I was starting to fear the worst. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Our forces are at their weakest and the men all tired. Now would be the best time to launch a coup.”

  I reached for a leg of lamb and bit into it, considering things.

  “Yes. I should have seen it coming. Anyway, now we have work to do. Corporal, what is your name?”