The Wicked and the Witless coaaod-5 Read online

  Then Amantha, having finished trimming the candles, began to take off her clothes. A huge moth with wings the colour of copper and bronze danced dizzy around the candles. A muscular mastiff watched the two humans. Waiting for what? An order? As Sarazin was wondering, a monstrous hound of uncertain breed jumped on to the bed. 'Hey! You!' said Sarazin. 'Get off the bed!'

  He grabbed the dog's collar and hauled on it. The brute did not budge by so much as a fingerlength. Instead, it bared its teeth and growled. Sarazin hastily let go and stepped back. 'Sheebal' said Amantha, sharply. And clapped her hands twice, in anger.

  The hound hastily decamped from the bed and slunk into a comer, where it lay sulking as Amantha towelled herself.

  'Don't watch!' she said, catching Sarazin in the act. You embarrass me.'

  So Sarazin turned away, humming to himself, trying to pretend he felt gay and jaunty. Rain drummed against the shutters. It was cold. He wanted. Warmth, yes. Amantha was warm, surely. What did Lod say? Slippery when wet…

  Sarazin turned to Amantha, who had swaddled herself in her towel. He tried, gently, to remove it. She resisted. He suddenly became less gentle, and wrenched the towel away from her. She stood there naked, one hand guarding her vulva, the other clasped across her breasts. Why look at me as if I were a rapist?' asked Sarazin, hurt. 'All men are rapists,' she said.

  Sarazin had not come prepared for political argument, so did not know how to reply. Instead, after a moment's hesitation, he invaded her defences, his hands eagering over her breasts. Don't maul me!' said Amantha, pulling away from him. 'But I'm your husband!' protested Sarazin.

  'That's got nothing to do with it. My breasts are sore. They're tender. Understand?'

  'Like little birds,' said Sarazin, attempting to lighten the mood with a little romance, a touch of poetry.

  'Quite possibly,' said Amantha, sourly. Well, come on! Let's get it over with!'

  So saying, she slid herself under the bed's vast duvet. Sarazin tried to draw it back. 'Stop that!' she said. 'Are you perverted?'

  'To see pleasure is part of the pleasure of pleasuring,' said Sarazin.

  'Only peasants want to see the flesh in action,' retorted Amantha. You want to watch? You're disgusting! That's a filthy low-bred perversion. You must have learnt it from whores.'

  Sarazin, abashed, face burning, made no reply. Instead, he crawled under the duvet and coupled with Amantha, going about his business as he was accustomed to, striving like a conqueror. Amantha cried out in alarm: 'Gently! Gently! You're hurting me!'

  Sarazin felt himself deflating. He grasped, wildly, for erotic visions to help him with his thrust. In the end, to his shame, it was Bizzie he conjured into his mind to help him drive and strive until lust was appeased. 'Are you finished?' said Amantha. 'Darling,' said Sarazin, kissing her, tenderly. You're finished,' she said, emphatically. Take it out!' 'My cherished sweet,' he said, kissing her again.

  In terms of pleasure, their coupling had been a disaster. So he wanted to at least indulge his pride. To lie there in possession of his princess, a woman of the Favoured Blood, the woman who guaranteed to him his glorious future. 'Take it out,' she insisted. You're finished.'

  So Sarazin withdrew, whereupon she rolled away from him. Soon she was asleep. Snoring with a high whine. But Sarazin lay sleepless, restless. Unable to settle. This was not at all what he had expected. He had expected gasping rap- tures, silken pleasures, panting excitement, eager hands. Instead, he had met with the most grudging welcome imaginable.

  'But I'm Lord of Chenameg now,' said he, trying to console himself about his disappointment.

  Then he started to wonder where the Lord of Chenameg should go to take a piss. Was there a chamber pot in the room? There must be. But, when he got out of bed, he could not see it.

  So he went to the window and opened a shutter. A gust of cold wind buffeted inside, blowing out most of the candles. The shutter tore free from his hand and banged heavily. Hastily, he grabbed for it. Cold rain splattered against his nakedness. He got control of the shutter and hauled it in, leaving just enough space to piss through.

  As he relieved himself, Sarazin heard a heavy thump behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the hound Sheeba had taken possession of his side of the bed. 'SssI' hissed Sarazin.

  He closed the shutters firmly against the night then went to deal with the hound. Who growled, baring teeth at him. He backed off, warily, looking for a weapon. At which point a draught blew out the last candle, leaving him in utter darkness. 'BuggerI' said Sarazin.

  Yes!' said Amantha, speaking from her dreams. 'Bugger me, bugger me, take me, force me, rape me, shaft me, hold me, clasp me, oh, Tarkal, Tarkal, do it, dig, do it, dig, oh Tarkal, dig, dig, dig, dig

  …'

  Her voice trailed away. From outshouting frenzy to a mothdust whisper. Then she shuddered, as if in pleasure. Then, after a moment's silence, gasped as if stabbed. Then groaned. Long and low. Then whimpered. Then no sound came from her but that of regular breathing.

  Sarazin stood in the dark, shocked and trembling. What lustful monster lived within the snowpetal skin of his princess? From where had come that foul, dark, demanding desire? And why had she cried her brother's name? Could she…? Did she…? Surely not!

  'He's dead, anyway,' muttered Sarazin, 'so it makes no difference.'

  Then made for the bed. He tripped over a mastiff, which lurched to its feet, barking. Amantha screamed: 'Tarkal!'

  'It's me,' said Sarazin, 'me, me, Sean Sarazin, your husband, your lover, your friend.'

  'Oh,' said Amantha. Then, puzzled but not unduly upset: Who turned you into a dog?'

  'Nobody,' said Sarazin. 'That's Sheeba beside you. I'm over here.'

  'Oh,' said Amantha. Then, still puzzled: 'Pray tell, why? Why are you standing over there?' 'I'm meditating,' said Sarazin.

  'Meditating!' said Amantha, with impatience and fury mixed. 'What did I marry? A clown? Come back to bed. Sheeba! Get off!'

  Sarazin navigated towards Amantha's voice, got under the duvet and curled up next to his true love. By now his ardour had recovered, and was fleshing out his pizzle with hot young blood. He put a hand on Amantha's shoulder and tried to turn her privacy towards him. "Not again!' she said, irritated. 'Not now!' 'But… darling…' 'I have a headache.'

  Rebuffed, Sarazin lay staring into the darkness, while Amantha slipped off to sleep. After a while, he realised there was something moving among the rafters overhead. A spider. Glowing phosphorescent in the dark. A monstrous spider. -Can't be. Must be dreaming.

  So thought Sarazin. To check, he put a finger into his mouth and bit it. Yes, he was awake all right. So the spider must really be up there. But it was huge! As big as a dog! Should he scream for help? No: the sound might draw the spider. It might leap down and fang them.

  He would have to wake up Amantha. Then they would have to creep to the door, very quietly. Then open it, and make a dash for safety. Trembling with fear, he shook Amantha awake.

  'All right, you sex maniac,' she said, in something approaching a shout. 'Rape me, then.' 'Keep your voice down,' he said. 'Are you ashamed then? Are you-' 'Amantha! Amantha! Look! Up there! Look! There's a-'

  'A spider,' said Amantha, with a complete lack of interest. What of it?' 'But it's – it's huge!' "They only eat bats, stupid. Go back to sleep.'

  Sarazin sank back in bed. But he did not dare shut his eyes, not with that hideous monstrosity on the loose above him. Maybe it did hunt bats. Usually. But what if it slipped? And fell? Slap bang into their faces!

  In the end, weary beyond belief but still fearful of the spider, he crawled deep under the duvet, down to the darkness somewhere near Amantha's feet. Which were unwashed, and smelt accordingly.

  As the wise have elsewhere remarked, there are two disasters which can befall one: getting what one wants, or not getting what one wants. Sarazin felt that, somehow, he had managed to get the worst of both worlds.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Celadon: Farfal
la's second-born child, the brother of Sarazin, Peguero and Jarnel (who is the youngest). An unsubtle soldier dedicated to his military career and to very little else.

  Celadon was a military attache in Shin when Sarazin arrived in the autumn, but was ordered by King Lyra to return to Selzirk with news that Sarazin was forbidden to depart Shin until Lod's trial was concluded.

  Sarazin lay dreaming of Amantha. In his dream, she promenaded naked in a marble-colonnaded xystus. Her body shaved. All hair lower than her eyebrows gone entirely. He- He woke, as a servant slammed the door open.

  'Blood's grief!' said Sarazin, staring at the shocked and panting man. What is it?'

  "My lord,' said the servant, 'soldiers are coming. From the west.' 'From the west?' said Sarazin. 'Yes, my lord,' said the servant. 'From the west.'

  'Great,' said Amantha. 'Is breakfast coming from the west, too? It should be here by now. Where is it?'

  'It will be here soon, my lady, soon,' said the servant. 'But, my lord – the soldiers. The soldiers!'

  'How many soldiers?' said Sarazin, already out of bed and shovelling himself into his clothes. 'How many and how far distant? Who saw them? Do they come by road or by forest?'

  They march down the North Road, my lord. Some charcoal burners sighted them yesterday at dusk. They went not near enough to count them but hastened to Shin by night. Ere the sun rose they persuaded the ferrymen to bring them across the river that they might give us the news. They ask now for reward.'

  'Hold them!' said Sarazin. 'Death will reward them if they've told us untruths. Where is Jarl?' Yes, and breakfast!' said Amantha.

  'Breakfast is coming, my lady, coming soon,' said the servant, obviously more fearful of Amantha than he was of Sarazin – something scarcely calculated to improve Sarazin's temper. 'Jarl!' said Sarazin. Where is Jarl?' 'He is nowhere to be found, my lord.' "Then get Glambrax,' said Sarazin. 'Glambrax?' "My dwarf, you fool!'

  In preparation for the wedding, at which he had thought he might possibly get drunk, Sarazin had given his ring of invisibility, his magic mudstone, his dragon bottle and his green candle into the care of the dwarf. In the event, Sarazin had stayed sober, so this precaution against drunken accidents had been unnecessary. However, Glambrax still had charge of Sarazin's magic.

  And Glambrax, it seemed, had made himself very scarce indeed. Shortly, however, Thodric Jarl was found, lying dead drunk in one of the stables. Ear-pulling, rib-kicking and a dousing with cold water failed to rouse him. Further- more, Jarl's condition was far from unique. Few men were fit for battle as all had celebrated Sarazin's wedding feast in uproarious style.

  Sarazin swore in his most soldierly fashion then assembled the few capable men at his command.

  We ride on patrol,' said Sarazin. 'If those from the west are friendly then all is well. If not, then we will return to the Great House and flee forthwith.'

  The ferrymen took Sarazin and his patrol across the Velvet River to the start of the North Road, a wide trail of mud with forest uprising on either side. Soon Sarazin was leading his men westward. It might be that they rode to their deaths, yet none of their demeanour admitted dismay.

  They had not gone far when they sighted a single avant- courier. The man drew rein when he saw them. Whereupon Sarazin cried, in a loud voice: Who is it who marches on the realm of Chenameg?' "Me!' answered a voice which was not entirely unfamiliar. It was his brother Celadon.

  Sarazin rode forward. Then the two brothers sat on their horses eyeing each other with disfavour. They did not know each other very well for their past acquaintance had been but short. However, what they knew they disliked.

  To Sarazin, Celadon was an uncouth militarist whose concern for the future was strictly limited to the provenance of his next beer and his next whore. To Celadon, Sarazin was a severe embarrassment, a wildly reckless adventurer whose self-serving ambition threatened the careers (if not the very lives) of everyone who had the misfortune to be related to him.

  'What,' said Sarazin, opening the hostilities, 'are you doing here? Moreover, how many men do you have at your back?'

  'I have four hundred men,' said Celadon, 'and I ride to ensure the lawful succession of the throne of Chenameg.' 'That has been decided already,' said Sarazin, 'for I have married the fair princess Amantha and am myself king in Chenameg.' You!' said Celadon, gaping.

  Yes,' said Sarazin proudly, pleased with the obvious impact his new status was making on his brother. Then Celadon said:

  You're mad! Mad, yes, and shortly dead, unless you flee. 'Tis well I rode first. With no witness to this warning I can let you escape. I thought you ready for some lunacy – but never something so witless as this!'

  'Have a care how you speak,' said Sarazin, a warning in his voice, 'for you are talking to a king.'

  'Tarkal is king, fool!' said Celadon. 'He rides in our ranks.' And Celadon explained.

  Celadon had of course been sent to Selzirk with news that King Lyra wished Sarazin to remain in Shin for Lod's trial. Unbeknownst to Sarazin, King Lyra had also given Celadon secret dispatches complaining of the activities of outlaws, brigands and anarchists, and asking Selzirk to send Celadon back to Shin in due course with a force sufficient to restore law to the countryside.

  Celadon had left Selzirk on Midwinter's Day, which was, in Shin, the first day of the Phoenix Festival.

  When King Lyra died on the second day of the Phoenix Festival there had been fighting between men loyal to Tarkal and those loyal to Lod, as Sarazin knew well. The fighting had been inconclusive, and, while Tarkal had won temporary control of Shin, he had been uncertain of his ability to hold the city.

  Therefore Tarkal had evacuated Shin and had set off for the Harvest Plains, ferrying every man, woman, child and servant within his power to cross the Velvet River to the North Road then marching them westward. Lod had pursued all the way, and many of the evacuees had died on the slow and bitter retreat.

  Then the sore-pressed Tarkal had met Celadon's men, who had been advancing eastward along the North Road at a leisurely pace. Celadon, with gusto, treated Sarazin to a sanguinary account of the action which had followed.

  Tod may well be dead,' concluded Celadon, 'though we have not seen his corpse. But Tarkal is definitely alive, and my duty is clear. As he is King Lyra's oldest son I must see him seated on Chenameg's throne.' You have no authority to do so,' said Sarazin savagely.

  'On the contrary, I have every authority,' said Celadon. Tvly warrant for this foray into Chenameg commands me to obey King Lyra, or, in the event of his death, his son Tarkal.' 'But I am king!'

  'Then Selzirk will kill you on that account if you allow yourself to be captured,' said Celadon, 'for Selzirk sees fit to order the succession in Shin.'

  What cause has Selzirk to meddle in the affairs of Chenameg?' demanded Sarazin.

  That is for our rulers to say,' said Celadon. 'I am but a simple soldier and do what I am told. So far, brother mine, I do not know you have made yourself king. We did not meet here, neither did we speak. But soon enough I will know all, then it will be my duty plain to hunt you down and drag you back to Selzirk in chains, there to meet the justice which will doubtless be your death.'

  There was no time left for further argument, for Celadon's troops were not that far behind him. Sarazin therefore fled to Shin with his patrol. Once he was back on the southern bank of the Velvet River his first thought was to destroy all water transport. But the ferrymen refused to do the burning and sinking he ordered and his men refused to execute those ferrymen for disobedience.

  Sarazin, realising what authority remained tb him was rapidly vanishing, ran to Amantha and broke the news to her.

  'Therefore,' concluded Sarazin, 'we must flee. I think right on my side but cannot argue the point with Celadon and four hundred swords.' You flee,' said Amantha. 'I stay.' 'Come!' said Sarazin, imperiously.

  'Don't be ridiculous,' said Amantha. Tm in the middle of breakfast, as you can see for yourself.' 'But,' said Sarazin, 'our lives will be forfeit if
we stay.' Your life, perhaps,' said Amantha, 'not mine.' 'But – darling! We're married!'

  "What's that got to do with the price of fish?' said Amantha. Tarkal is my brother and I await him here. Take your hands off that! That's my egg!' A pretty plight was Sean Sarazin's.

  Jarl was still incapable, Glambrax was still missing, Amantha refused to be reasonable – so what was he to do? Run, obviously! But, as news of Tarkal's impending return had already spread through Shin, there was not one man – not one! – ready to ride with Sean Sarazin.

  So Sarazin saddled the best horse left in Shin and rode forth alone, making for the east. And, since luck was with him, it was a full ten days before he was caught and marched back to Shin. From where he was sent onward to Selzirk to face justice.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Let Wisdom flee and Justice hide its face For we have entered into a Court of Law. (Proverbial)

  Several days later, Sarazin found himself in a dark dank cell in a dungeon in Selzirk. The cell was made for one, but must perforce hold two when Sarazin was closeted with his lawyer, Childermass Imbleprig. Once again Farfalla had chosen Imbleprig as Sarazin's lawyer and was paying the bills. This is bad,' said Imbelprig, shaking his head. "Very bad.'

  'You call it bad?' said Sarazin. 'I call it ludicrous. A charge of high treason? How can that be justified.' 'In several ways,' said Imbleprig.

  'How so?' said Sarazin. 'I put down a revolution. I saved Shin from being burnt to the ground by a mob of peasants. I preserved the life of the lady Amantha. Then married her, that the rule of law might be restored to the kingdom.'

  You set yourself up as king,' said Imbleprig. 'That was unlawful, not least because Tarkal still lived.'

  'How was I to know he lived?' said Sarazin. 'I didn't think him such a coward as to run so quick.'

  Whether his action was cowardice or caution is not for us to say,' said Imbleprig. 'He was King Lyra's oldest child. Furthermore, he was the man Selzirk wanted to see succeed King Lyra. Clearly, by making yourself king, or trying to, you opposed the wishes of Selzirk. That is high treason.'