Envoy Extraordinary

by William Golding

  "Lord, it is impossible. There is nowhere for the Emperor to sleep. And look at the sky!"

  There was no longer any blue to be seen. The sun was dispersed into a great patch of light that might soon he hidden completely.

  "-and how am I to hold a course, lord, when I can no longer see the sky and there is no wind?"

  "It is an order. Grandfather, let us get ashore for a moment at least."

  "Why?"

  "She is so dirty--"

  "So are you, Mamillius. You stink."

  The Syrian sidled up to the Emperor.

  "If it is an order, Caesar, I will do my best. But first let us move the ship outside the harbour. You can transfer to her from your barge."

  "It shall be so."

  They crossed the trireme together. Mamillius ran to the tunnel with head averted from the women and disappeared. The Emperor went to where his barge was moored astern of the trireme and arranged himself comfortably under the baldachino. It was only then that he began to realize how ugly and preposterous the new ship was.

  He shook his head gently.

  "I am a very reluctant innovator."

  The crowd of slaves aboard Amphitrite was being absorbed by her hold and the small crew was busily casting off. The crewmen of the trireme were bearing off with the looms of oars and she began to move sideways. Her cables splashed free in the water and were hauled aboard. The Emperor, under his shady purple, could see how the helmsman was heaving at the steering oars to bring her stern in and give her bows a sheer away from the trireme. Steam was jetting constantly from the brass belly over the furnace. Then he saw Phanocles stick his head out of the hold and wave the helmsman into stillness. He shouted something down to the bowels of the machine, the jet of steam increased till the scream of it rasped the air like a file then suddenly disappeared altogether. In answer a snarling roar rose from the ships and houses round the harbour till Amphitrite lay like some impossible lizard at bay in the centre of an arena.

  The Emperor fanned himself with one hand.

  "I have always considered a mob to be thoroughly predictable."

  There came a grunt from the bowels of the ship and an iron clank. Talos moved all four hands, two back, two forward. Both wheels began to revolve slowly, port astern, starboard ahead. The blades of the paddles came down-smack, pause, smack!-so that dirty water shot from under them. They rose out of the water, throwing it high in the air, to fall back on the deck. The whole ship was streaming and steam rose in a cloud again, but this time from the hot surface of the sphere and the funnel. A great wailing came from her hold and Phanocles leapt on deck, to stand there, inspecting the deluge through screwed-up eyes as though he had never seen anything so interesting. Amphitrite was lying in one place, making no way, but turning; and the water sprayed up as from a fountain. Phanocles shouted down the hatch, the steam jetted up, the paddles creaked to a stop, and the water was running off her as though she had just come up from the bottom of the harbour. The noise from the people stormed at her as she lay in the centre of harbour with her steam jet screaming. There was a blink of light in the haze over the hills and almost immediately the thud of thunder.

  The Emperor made a furtive sign with two fingers.

  The lightning, however, was a divine irrelevance. As the Emperor shielded his eyes in expectation of Amphitrite's destruction at the hands of an outraged Providence he glimpsed that she was not the only portent moving on the waters. Outside the harbour mouth but visible over the quay wall there was a solidity in the moving vapours. Before his mind had time to work he thought of it as the top of a rock or a low cliff. But the rock lengthened.

  The Emperor scrambled ashore, crossed the quay and climbed the steps of the harbour wall where the women were sitting. The rock was clear of the mist. It was the prow and fo'castle of a great warship and from her hold came the measured beating of a drum. She was slightly off course for the entrance of the harbour but swinging already to bisect the narrow strip of water. that lay between the two quays. Steadily she came on, sail furled on the yard, a crab suspended at either yard-arm, ejaculatory armament trained forward, her decks glistening with steel and brass, the twentyfoot spear of her ram cutting the surface of the water like a shark. The drum tapped out a change of rhythm. The centipedal oars closed in aft as though they had been folded by a central intelligence. She slid through the entrance and her ram was in the harbour. The drums changed rhythm again. Pair after pair as they were free of the obstructing quays the oars unfolded, reversed, backed water. The Emperor saw a red and gold banner on the quarterdeck surmounted by a vindictivelooking eagle. He dropped down from the harbour wall, ignored the questions of the women and hurried back to his barge and the shelter of the baldachino.

  Aboard Amphitrite they had noticed the warship too. The Emperor saw Phanocles and the captain gesticulating fiercely at each other. Phanocles ducked down the hatch, the jet of steam vanished and the paddles began to move. Immediately the captain ran along the deck, there was a flash of steel and Amphitrite's anchor thumped into the water. But the drums were beating out another order. The oars of the warship rose and were rigid like spread wings. She glided forward with the last of her momentum like a vast and settling seabird. Her ram took Amphitrite under the starboard paddle and tore it. Men were swarming along the horizontal, oars, leaping down, striking with sword hilts and the butts of spears. The growl of the harbour rose to a frantic cheer. Phanocles and the captain were hauled up between the oars and dumped on the warship's deck. Her oars began to move again so that the ram slid out of the torn wheel. Amphitrite, her wheels .turning very slowly, began to revolve round her own anchor. The warship, starboard oars paddling ahead, port astern, was moving towards the quay where the trireme and the Emperor was.

  The Emperor sat, pulling on his underlip. There were - more moving cliffs outside the harbour, warships backing and filling, waiting to come in. There was another blink of light and clap of thunder but this time the Emperor did not notice it. Mamillius was standing on the quay by the barge in the attitude of one arrested at a moment of extreme haste. The Emperor, glancing sideways, was transfixed also.

  Mamillius was dressed in armour. His breastplate flashed from a multitudinous and highly allegorical assembly of heroes and centaurs. A scarlet cloak dropped down his back to his heels. The red leather of his sword scabbard matched exactly the red leather openwork of the boots that reached nearly to his knees. The breastplate was matched in material and complexity by the brass helmet that he carried under his left arm.

  The Emperor closed his eyes for a moment and spoke faintly.

  "Bellona's bridegroom."

  Mamillius seemed to collapse a little. He blushed.

  "I thought-as we were going to the army-"

  The Emperor surveyed the details of the uniform.

  "I see that both Troy and Carthage have fallen."

  The blush came and went, came again with a profuse perspiration.

  "Do you know whose warship these are?"

  The Emperor rested his forehead on one hand.

  "In the circumstances, a distaff would have been less open to misconstruction."

  Always Mamillius kept the wall of his cloak between him and the women. He saw the gold and scarlet banner shake as the warship came alongside the trireme. Her ram lay alongside the barge. This time the colour left his face and did not return.

  "What shall we do?"

  "There is no time to do anything. Perhaps you might put your helmet on."

  "It gives me a headache."

  "Diplomacy," said the Emperor. "He has the soldiers-look at them! But we have the intelligence. It will be hard if we cannot smooth things over."

  "What about me?"

  "On the whole, 1 think you would be safer in China. "

  The Emperor took Mamillius' hand and stepped ashore. He walked along the quay towards the warship with Mamillius at his heels. The crowd from her deck had flooded the trireme and was flowing across
the quay so that the end by the harbour entrance was jammed full. There were prisoners, the abject and supplicating Syrian, slaves. Phanocles wearing an even wilder air of short-sighted bewilderment and soldiers, far too many soldiers. They bore huge bundles and bags that made them look as though they were about to contribute to a gigantic jumble sale. They were tricked out in favours of red and yellow. The loot of a countryside was suspended about them but they came to attention under their loads when they saw the purple fringe on the white toga. The Emperor stopped by the gangway and waited. Behind him the women were crouched by the harbour wall, veiled and terrified like a chorus of Trojan Women. Someone blew a large brass instrument on the warship, there was a clash of arms and the banner was dipped. A tall, dark figure, burly, armed and flashing, and full of intention, came striding down the gangway.

  "Welcome home, Posthumus," said the Emperor, smiling. "You have saved us the trouble of coming to see you."

  3. JOVE'S OWN BOLT

  Posthumus paused for a moment. His gold and scarlet plume waved a foot and a half above the Emperor's head. His olivedark and broadly handsome face took on a look of calculation.

  "Where have you hidden your troops?"

  The Emperor raised his eyebrows.

  "There are a few sentries in the garden as usual and possibly a few by the tunnel. Really, Posthumus, you travel with a considerable retinue."

  Posthumus turned aside and spoke briefly among his officers. A detachment of laden legionaries doubled along the quay and stationed themselves between the Emperor and escape. The women wailed then settled to a steady lament. The Emperor affected not to notice but drew Posthumus towards the barge. Amphitrite continued to circle round her anchor slowly.

  Posthumus stopped.

  "It was high time I came home."

  More thunder. The Emperor looked back at the dense mass of soldiers that filled the end of the quay

  "About a hundred men, I should say. An Imperial Salute?"

  Posthumus snorted.

  "You can call it that. Presently more ships will enter the harbour. There will he sufficient to ensure that we agree on all points of policy. But what a stroke of luck to find you both on the quay!"

  Mamillius cleared his throat and spoke in a high uncertain voice.

  "Posthumus, you are mistaken."

  "Mamillius in arms."

  "For show only. I do not want to be Emperor."

  "Ah!"

  Posthumus took a step towards him and Mamillius started back, tripping on his cloak. Posthumus poked a finger in his face.

  "You may think not. But he would bridge the Adriatic to please you."

  The Emperor flushed a delicate pink.

  "You have never wanted my affection, Posthumus, so you have never missed it. If I have been foolish enough to think that I could enjoy his company without more danger than the usual scandal, I have been wise enough to know that you are the best man to rule the Empire-however uncongenial I may find you."

  "I am informed otherwise."

  "At least you might gloss over our differences in public."

  Posthumus paid no attention to these words, but fished a folded paper from inside his breastplate.

  "To: Posthumus, etc., Heir Designate, etc.

  From: CIII

  Ships and weapons are being built or converted on the quay next to the tunnel. - The Emperor , and the Lord Mamillius take much personal interest in a ship, Amphitrite, ex-corn-barge, unclassified, and a tormentum (mark VII) that has been placed on the quay and trained seaward. They are also experimenting with methods of poisoning food on a large scale. Lord Mamillius seems to he in a state of high excitement and anticipation--"

  "Posthumus, I swear--"

  Posthumus merely raised his voice.

  "He is corresponding with the Emperor and others in code under cover of writing poetry-"

  Mamillius was flaming.

  "Leave my poetry alone!"

  'It has not yet been found possible to break this code. Submitted to XLVI it proved to be composed of quotations from Moschus, Erinna, Mimnermus, and sources not yet identified. Research is proceeding."

  Tears of rage ran down Mamillius' face.

  "You filthy swine!"

  'That was unnecessarily cruel, Posthumus."

  Posthumus stuffed the paper back.

  "Now we have done with fooling, Caesar. The time has come for a regency."

  "He does not want to be Emperor."

  Posthumus sneered at Mamillius.

  "He is not going to be."

  A faint clattering sound came from Mamillius' armour. The Emperor laid a hand on Posthumus' arm.

  "lf the ship and the. tormentum worry you, Posthumus, I can explain them rationally. Be fair."

  He turned to the officers and raised his voice.

  "Bring the Greek to me."

  Posthumus nodded, waiting. Phanocles stood before them, restoring the circulation to his wrists.

  "This man is the root of the matter."

  'Lord Posthumus-I am altering the shape of the world."

  "He has this curious manner of speech, Posthumus."

  "There will be no slaves but coal and iron. The ends of the earth will be joined together."

  Posthumus laughed and the sound cheered no one.

  "And men will fly."

  He turned to the officers and beckoned.

  "Colonel-why aren't those ships coming in?"

  "Visibility, sir."

  "Damn the visibility. Signal them in or send a message."

  He turned back to Phanocles.

  "This fantastic ship--"

  Phanocles spread his arms.

  "She will go faster than any other. Civilization is a matter of communications." He frowned at them and searched for simple words. "Lord Posthumus. You are a soldier. What is your greatest difficulty?"

  "I have none."

  "But if you had?"

  "Getting there first."

  "You see? Even warfare is a matter of communications. Think of the elaborate efforts Xerxes made to conquer Greece. With Amphitrite he could have crossed the Aegean in a day and against the wind."

  Mamillius struck in, teeth chattering, eager to help.

  "Think of the first Caesar, of Alexander, Rameses--"

  Phanocles sank his head on one side and opened his hands as if the explanation was simple.

  "You see, lord? Communications."

  The Emperor nodded thoughtfully.

  "They should be made as difficult as possible."

  Thunder rumbled again. Posthumus strode over to the tormentum and the women shrank away. The roar of the harbour was rising again.

  "And this?"

  "I have to shut the lightning in the keg. The sting when it strikes anything looses the lightning. Then there is a smoking hole in the ground."

  The Emperor made a sign with two fingers.

  "What is the brass butterfly at the base of the sting?"

  "It is an arming vane. After the keg has gone some way the butterfly shoots off, otherwise the keg would explode by setback when you fired the tormentum."

  "Would this make a smoking hole where there was a city wall?"

  "Yes, Caesar."

  "Where there was an army?"

  "If I make the keg big enough."

  Posthumus considered Phanocles closely.

  "And this is the only one you have made?"

  "Yes, lord. "

  "I am not sure whether to have you executed straight away or use you for other purposes."

  "Execute me?"

  Suddenly the roar from the harbour rose till it could no longer be ignored..

  They turned together.

  It was Amphitrite; they understood that immediately. She had revolved endlessly round her anchor. till her flaunted eccentricity had become more than any man could bear who had red blood in his veins. There were naked men plunging from ships and jetties till a hundred arms flashe
d in the water.

  Phanocles cried out.

  "What--?"

  Posthumus spoke rapidly to the Colonel.

  "All troops will disembark on this quay. Meanwhile neither the Emperor nor his suite will wish to leave. See that his wishes are respected. You understand?"

  "Sir."

  'Posthumus ran to the barge but the Emperor called to him.

  "While I am waiting I will inspect these splendid fellows already assembled."

  The colonel glanced at Posthumus, who laughed softly.

  "Do as the Father Of His Country tells you."

  The arc of swimmers converged on Amphitrite and the second warship was coming in to the sound of drums. Phanocles clasped his hands.

  "Stop them, Caesar!"

  Men were swarming now over Amphitrite, tearing at her paddle, striking with any heavy gear they could find at the brass monster in the deck. The guard that Posthumus had put aboard her went down in a whirl of limbs. Smoke rose suddenly from her hold and uncoiled. Naked figures were hurling themselves from her bulwarks while a thin flame, hooded and flickering like a ghost, shot up amidships. The second warship saw the danger and backed water. Oars smashed against the quay but her way was checked. A third ship, emerging from the heat haze crashed into the second with her ram. More oars smashed; then both ships were locked and drifting helplessly down on Amphitrite. Posthumus, screaming curses, leapt into the imperial barge.

  "Bear off there! Give way!"

  "Detachment ready for inspection, Caesar."

  "Those men between me and the tunnel, Colonel. Let them join the others."

  "My orders, Caesar---"

  "Do you not think, Colonel, that you could catch half a dozen women and one old man if they tried to escape?"

  The Colonel swallowed.

  "This may be the last time the Father Of His Country will inspect his troops. Will you not obey, Colonel? I am a soldier too."

  The Colonel's Adam's apple went up and down twice. He swelled with understanding and emotion. He flashed the Emperor an enormous salute.

  "Detail to join parade at the double!"

  "And the band," added the Emperor. "I think I see the band there. The band, Colonel?"

  A fourth warship was gliding into the harbour. Amphitrite lay, her brass boiler nested in smoke and flame. Her paddle wheels began to lumber round faster. She strained at her cable. They heard a wild scream from Posthumus.