The king broke from his companions as soon as the ship sailed and went to stand by the rails, staring rigidly ahead, as if anxious to be the first to see the queen. Yuli became miserable at the motion of the sea and sprawled by the capstan. For once the king showed his pet no sympathy.
Its cordage creaking, the brig laboured through calm seas.
The king fell suddenly to the deck. His courtiers ran to him and lifted him. JandolAnganol was carried to his cabin and placed in his bunk. He was deathly pale and rolled about as if in pain, hiding his face.
A medical man examined him and ordered everyone to leave the cabin except CaraBansity. ‘Stay by his majesty. He has a touch of seasickness but nothing more. As soon as we get ashore he will be well again.’
‘I understood that a characteristic of seasickness was vomiting.’
‘Hmm, well, in some cases. Commoners. Royal personages respond in a different fashion.’ The doctor bowed himself out.
After a while, the king’s muttered complaints became articulate. ‘The dreadful thing I must do. Pray Akhanaba it will soon be over…’
‘Majesty let us discuss a sensible, important topic, to calm your mind. That rare bracelet of mine which you hold—’
The king raised his head and said, with his inflexible look, ‘Get out of here, you cretin. I’ll have you flung overboard to the fish. Nothing is important, nothing — nothing on this earth.’
‘May your majesty soon recover himself,’ said CaraBansity, backing his awkward bulk out of the cabin.
The ship made fair progress westwards, and sailed into the little bay at Gravabagalinien on the morning of the second day at sea. JandolAnganol, suddenly himself again, walked down the gangplank and into the surf — there was no jetty at Gravabagalinien — with Alam Esomberr close behind him, holding up his cloak tails.
With the latter travelled an escort of ten dignitaries of high ecclesiastical office, referred to by Esomberr as his rabble of vicars. The king’s retinue contained captains and armourers.
The queen’s palace waited inland, without a sign of life. Its narrow windows were shuttered. A black flag flew at half-mast from a turret. The king’s face, turned towards it, was itself as blank as a shuttered window. No man dared look long at it, lest he catch the Eagle’s eye.
The second brig was coming in, making awkward progress. Despite Esomberr’s impatience, JandolAnganol insisted on waiting until it was drawn in and a walkway extended from ship to shore, so that his ahuman troops could reach land without having to set foot in the water.
He then made much of forming them up, drilling them, and addressing them in Native. At last he was ready to walk the half mile to the palace. Yuli ran ahead, frisking in the sand, kicking it up, delighted to be on firm ground again.
They were greeted by an ancient woman in a black keedrant and white apron. White hairs trailed from a mole on her cheek. She walked with a stick. Two unarmed guards stood some way behind her.
Close at hand, the white and gold building revealed its shabbiness. Gaps showed where slates on its roofs, planks from its verandahs, uprights in its railings, had fallen away and not been replaced. Nothing moved, except a herd of deer cropping grass on a distant hillside. The sea boomed endlessly against the shore.
The king’s costume took up the general sombre note. He wore an undecorated tunic and breeches of a deep blue close to black. Esomberr, by contrast, strolled along in his jauntiest powder blues, offset by a pink short cloak. He was perfumed this morning, to camouflage the stinks of the ship.
An infantry captain blew a bugle to announce their arrival.
The palace door remained closed. The old woman wrung her hands and muttered to the breeze.
Wrenching himself into action, JandolAnganol went up to the door and beat on its wooden panels with the hilt of his sword. The noise echoed within, setting hounds barking.
A key was applied to a lock. The door swung open, propelled by another aged hag, who gave a stiff curtsey to the king and stood there blinking.
All was gloom inside. The hounds that had set up such a din when the door was locked now slunk away into shadowy recesses.
‘Perhaps Akhanaba in his somewhat temperamental mercy has sent the plague here,’ suggested Esomberr. ‘Thus releasing the occupants from earthly sorrow and rendering ours an unnecessary journey.’
The king gave a shout of greeting.
A light showed at the top of the stairs, where all was otherwise dark. They looked up, to see a woman carrying a taper. She bore it above her head, so that her features were in shadow. As she descended the stairs, every step creaked. As she neared those waiting below, the light from outside began to illumine her features. Even before that, something in her carriage declared who she was. The glow strengthened, the face of Queen MyrdemInggala was revealed. She stopped a few paces in front of JandolAnganol and Esomberr and curtseyed first to the one, then the other.
Her beauty was ashen, her lips almost colourless, her eyes dark in her pallid face. Her hair floated in dark abundance about her head. She wore a pale grey gown to the floor which buttoned at the throat to conceal her breasts.
The queen spoke a word to the crone, who went to the doors and closed them, leaving Esomberr and JandolAnganol in the dark, with the intrusive phagor runt behind them. That dark revealed itself as seamed with threads of light. The palace was flimsily built of planking. When the sun shone on it, a skeletal aspect was revealed. As the queen led them to a side room, slivers of light disclosed her presence.
She stood awaiting them in the middle of a room defined by thin geometries of illumination, where daylight slit round shuttered windows.
‘Nobody is in the palace at present,’ MyrdemInggala said, ‘except for me and the Princess TatromanAdala. You may kill us now, and there will be no witnesses except the All-Powerful.’
‘We do not intend to hurt you, madam,’ said Esomberr. He walked over to one of the windows and opened the shutters. Turning in the dusty light, he saw the husband and wife standing close in the almost empty room.
MyrdemInggala pursed her lips and blew out her taper.
JandolAnganol said, ‘Cune, as I’ve said, this divorce is a question of state policy.’ His manner was abnormally subdued.
‘You may force me to accept it. You can never make me understand it.’
Esomberr opened the window and called for his retinue and for AbstrogAthenat.
‘The ceremony will not detain you long, madam,’ he said. He paraded into the centre of the room and bowed to her. ‘My name is Esomberr of the Esomberrs. I am the Envoy and Representative in Borlien of the Great C’Sarr Kilandar IX, the Father Supreme of the Church of Akhanaba and Emperor of Holy Pannoval. My function is to act as witness on behalf of the Father Supreme, in a brief ceremony. That is my public duty. My private duty is to declare that you are more beautiful than any representation of you could ever be.’
To JandolAnganol she said faintly, ‘After all we have been to each other…’
Continuing without altering the tone of his voice, Esomberr said, ‘The ceremony will absolve King JandolAnganol from any further marital ties. Under this special bill of divorcement granted by the Father Supreme himself, you two will cease to be husband and wife, your vows will be rescinded, and you will renounce the title of Queen.’
‘Upon what grounds am I to be divorced, sir? What is the pretext? How has the revered C’Sarr been told I have offended, to be treated like this?’
The king stood as in a trance, staring rigidly at the air, while Alam Esomberr pulled a document from his pocket, flapped it open, and read.
‘Madam, we have witnesses to prove that while you have been taking your holidays here in Gravabagalinien’ — he sketched a sensuous gesture — ‘you have entered the sea in a state of nudity. That you have there consorted carnally with dolphins. That this unnatural act, forbidden by the Church, has been frequently repeated, often within sight of your child.’