‘Everyone else seems to be in there.’
Reave thoughtfully stroked his chin.
‘I suppose A.A. Catto’s queen now?’
It looks that way.’
A kind of toneless singing came from the big hut. Reave pursed his lips.
‘I’m not so sure I want to be one of her subjects.’
Billy grinned sourly.
‘You should know.’
Nancy rubbed her hands together.
‘We can’t stand here for ever.’
‘That’s true.’
‘So, do we go inside?’
‘It’s that or steal some horses and split.’
Nancy glanced pointedly down at her thin catsuit.
‘I don’t think I’m exactly dressed for another trip in the fog,’
‘So we go inside?’
Billy nodded.
‘We go inside.’
It was hot and crowded inside the big hut. The building was arranged like a figure eight with an extra loop added to the bottom. It was basically three circular connecting rooms, laid out in a straight line. The biggest of these was the centre one. It was thronged with horsemen. At one end was a raised dais, and on it was a combination throne, couch and bed, made from dark carved wood. In the middle of a heap of multicoloured cushions lay A.A. Catto. Her armour had been removed, but she was still naked. Two horsemen knelt beside her. They appeared to be treating her wounds with some kind of ointment that they took from a stone jar. A third horseman stooped beside her whispering urgently. A.A. Catto gave him her undivided attention. It seemed to Billy that he was instructing her about either the ritual or her duties. A horseman stood on either side of the dais, rigidly holding a spear.
Behind the dais was the entrance to one of the other, smaller rooms. Billy was later to find it was the queen’s private quarters. It was screened by a large hanging tapestry that depicted some kind of stylized hunting scene. Immediately in front of the dais, almost in the middle of the room, was another stone fire pit. A pile of logs crackled merrily, and the carcass of some large animal turned on a spit. Fat dripped off it, and fell hissing into the fire. The smoke escaped through a small hole in the roof. At least, that was the theory. A good percentage of it just hung in the air. The combination of roast meat and wood smoke gave the place a comforting, if crude, smell.
On the other side of the fire was a low curved table. Behind it sat a line of horsemen on low stools. They had removed their helmets and placed them on the table in front of them. Their spears were stacked in racks along the wall. Behind them sat more horsemen on rows of benches. They cradled their helmets in their laps. They all sang and beat time with their hands, either on table or helmets. It was a strange, guttural dirge with no recognizable words or harmonic structure.
The possession of a helmet seemed to be a crucial badge of rank in the clan. Billy noticed that the ones who had them sat staring at A.A. Catto, singing and clapping. The ones who didn’t scurried backwards and forwards, to and from the third room, which was a kind of storeroom or scullery, serving the others with some sort of fermented drink. It seemed that if you had a helmet you were part of the hunter warrior class, if not, you were a servant. Billy assumed that that was why the horsemen had so readily accepted the idea that Billy, Reave and Nancy were A.A. Catto’s personal slave.
Every eye in the place was fixed on A.A. Catto. Nobody took the slightest notice of either Billy, Reave or Nancy as they stood quietly at the back of the main room. There was an air of expectancy. Billy couldn’t believe that they were simply waiting for the meat to cook, or that they could be that enraptured with A.A. Catto’s skinny body. The only explanation he could think of was that, presently, some kind of ceremony would take place.
He waited for a while, but very soon started to get bored. He glanced at Reave.
‘Do you think anybody would take exception if we got ourselves a drink?’
Reave looked blank.
‘How should I know?’
‘You want to try it?’
‘Hell, why not?’
Nancy looked up from where she was squatting on the floor.
‘You want to get me one?’
Billy pulled a face.
‘I suppose so.’
He and Reave moved quietly into the small room. A line of stone pitchers seemed to contain the booze, or whatever it was. Billy took two earthenware mugs off a shelf and filled them from one of the pitchers. None of the serving men who came and went took any notice of them. They returned to where Nancy was sitting. Billy handed her a mug. She looked at the contents doubtfully.
‘What is it?’
‘Who knows?’
‘Are you going to drink it?’
‘Sure. Just watch me.’
Billy took a hearty swig, and immediately regretted it. The liquid tasted vaguely poisonous and burned his mouth. When he swallowed some, however, it produced a pleasant euphoric glow inside him. The next time he sipped it sparingly. He found himself quickly getting used to it. Neither Nancy nor Reave had touched theirs. They looked at him questioningly.
‘Is it okay?’
‘It’s bad, but it’s not that bad.’
They drank in silence. Billy sank down and squatted on his haunches. He stared at the smoke-blackened beams of the ceiling. He became aware that he was feeling decidedly horny. He wondered if it was something in the drink. There was also the fact that he hadn’t been within reach of a woman since he had left Darlene back at the Leader Hotel. It seemed like that was part of another age. He took another sip from his mug and glanced covertly at Nancy.
‘Uh, Nancy.’
‘Yeah?’
Billy smiled with all the charm he could muster.
‘What say you and me find ourselves a dark corner, huh?’
Nancy looked at Billy as though he was mad.
‘What the hell for?’
‘Uh … I was feeling horny, and was just wondering if maybe you and me might …’
‘You and me?’
‘Why not?’
Nancy’s lip curled.
‘Forget it!’
Billy looked glum.
‘I was only thinking.’
‘Yeah, well, forget it.’
Billy slumped back into his own thoughts. He had just started to develop the idea that Quahal was one of the most tedious bummers that he had ever come across, when things began to happen up on the dais. The first thing Billy noticed was that the singing stopped. An expectant silence fell over the room. Billy stood up to see what was happening. A.A. Catto was standing on the dais with her arms extended. Two of the horsemen who had been attending her came from behind the tapestry screen. They carried a fur trimmed purple robe. A.A. Catto lowered her arms, and they placed the robe over her shoulders. It hung open so most of her body was still on view. The attendants backed away. A slow measured chant started.
‘Hommm … Hommm …’
The horsemen beat time, a heavy ponderous beat. The first horseman at the table stood up and walked slowly towards the dais, keeping in step with the chant.
‘Hommm … Hommm …’
He reached A.A. Catto and stopped. The chant stopped too. The horseman slowly sank to his knees. The silence was loaded with tension. The horseman leaned forward, and placed his mouth between A.A. Catto’s legs. She stiffened. Her eyebrows shot up, then she half smiled and moved her weight so it was bearing down on the horseman’s face. Her hips undulated a little. Reave glanced at Billy.
‘She’ll be loving every minute of this. I don’t think she could have devised a better coronation herself.’
The horseman bowed, touching his head on the ground at A.A. Catto’s feet. Then he stood up, and went slowly back to his seat. The chant began again. The second horseman in line stood up and slowly advanced to the dais. Just like the one before, he dropped to his knees, went down on A.A. Catto for the statutory period, bowed and returned to his place. The chant started up again.