‘He’s becoming powerful, Your Holiness.’
‘Then,’ said Bosco, ‘it shows that Ikard and Zog are more intelligent than I gave them credit for.’
‘He either knows or can guess what we intend to do. This is a great threat to us.’
‘Not so, I think. His knowledge of our plan to attack through Arnhemland could have been serious – but at that time he was not able to persuade anyone to listen. Now we’re at the Mississippi in the north and have sealed off the Brunner Pass to Leeds in the south it’s perfectly obvious what we’re going to do. What he knows or can guess doesn’t matter.’
‘Only we’re not going to be facing some chinless wonder of Zog’s. He knows what he’s doing.’
‘Of course. What else would you expect from the Left Hand of God?’ He was smiling but Gil was not sure what kind of smile it was.
‘What does the fact that he directly opposes us say about your plan to bring about the promised end?’
‘I thought it was our plan – and God’s plan.’ Still the same smile.
‘I deserve better, Your Holiness, than to be mocked for a slip of the tongue.’
‘Of course, Gil. I stand corrected. The Pope begs your forgiveness. You have always been the best of servants to the harshest of all causes.’
The smile had gone but the tone of his apology was still wrong.
‘What does it mean, Your Holiness, that Cale is against us?’
‘It means that the Lord is sending us a message.’
‘Which is?’
‘I don’t know. It’s my fault that I can’t see what he’s telling me – but after all I am one of his mistakes.’
‘Why doesn’t he just tell you?’ This was dangerous stuff and once he’d said it Gil wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
‘Because my God is a subtle God. He made us because he did not want to be alone – if he has to tell us what to do and intervene on our behalf then we’re no more than pets, like the lap dogs of the rich sluts in Spanish Leeds. God hints because he loves us.’
‘Then why destroy us?’
Why not, thought Gil to himself as soon as he said it, follow up a blasphemous question with an even more blasphemous one? But he’d not taken into account how intelligent his odd master was.
‘I have often thought that myself. Why, Lord, ask me to do this terrible thing?’
‘And?’
‘God moves in a mysterious way. I think perhaps he is more merciful and loving than I had thought. I was arrogant,’ he added bitterly, ‘because I was so angry at what mankind had done to his only son. I now believe that once all our dead souls are gathered together he is going to remake us – but this time in his own image. I think so. I think that’s why we must do this revolting thing.’
‘But you aren’t sure?’
Bosco smiled, but this time it was easy to read – it was a smile of simple humility.
‘I refer you to my previous answer.’
It was clear the audience was over and it would be best to get out before he said something even more stupid. Gil bowed.
‘Your Holiness.’
He had his hand on the door when Bosco called out to him.
‘I will have some plans sent to you this afternoon.’
‘Yes, Your Holiness.’
‘It will take some effort but I’m sure it’s necessary – better safe than sorry and all that. I want you to move the shipyards on the Mississippi back a hundred miles or so.’
‘May I ask why, Your Holiness?’ His voice clearly showed he thought the idea was absurd – but Bosco seemed not to notice. Or had decided not to.
‘If I were Cale, I’d try and destroy them. It’s wise to be cautious, I think.’
Outside, as he walked down the corridor, one thought was repeating itself in Gil’s mind: I must find some way to leave him.
27
‘What will you do?’ said IdrisPukke.
‘You don’t want to know.’
‘You haven’t thought of anything, have you?’
‘No, but I will.’
‘Be careful.’
‘I meant to ask,’ said Cale, ‘if you’ve finished the plans about going over the mountains?’
‘As near as.’
‘We might need them sooner than you think.’ He was obviously thinking about something else. ‘Does this plan include the Purgators?’
‘No.’
‘It should.’
‘You’ve got very sentimental.’
‘Sentiment has nothing to do with it – except my loathing for them has clouded my judgement. It’s time to count my blessings. Two hundred men who’ll do whatever you want, no questions asked, are worth having, wouldn’t you say?’
‘You’re not going to like this,’ said Cale to Vague Henri.
‘Don’t tell me there aren’t any cucumber sandwiches.’ Vague Henri was only partly joking. He was unusually partial to cucumber sandwiches, which had been invented only ten years before by the Materazzi dandy Lord ‘Cucumber’ Harris when the vegetables had first been imported to Memphis and no one knew what to do with them. Every day that he was not out and about taking care of business for the OAR Vague Henri took high tea at four o’clock (cucumber sandwiches, cream cakes, scones) and pretended it was done to mock his former betters. In fact, he looked forward to high tea as the greatest pleasure in his life next to his very frequent visits to the Empire Of Soap in the Rue De Confort Sensuelle.
‘The princes of the blood – they’re going to get away with it.’
The three of them had discussed the retribution against the princes (Cale and Vague Henri always included Kleist even though he seemed indifferent to anything but his own particular tasks), as well as the manufacturers who bribed them, in terms of what should happen and how extreme and how public the acts of violence committed towards them would need to be.
‘Why?’ Vague Henri was no longer in a good mood. His fury at the shoddy material that had been delivered was as intense as Cale’s.
‘Because getting away with things that other people don’t get away with is what they’re good at.’
‘So you’re not going to cut their heads off and stick them on a spike?’ This had been Vague Henri’s preferred solution.
‘Worse than that.’
‘Go on.’
‘We’re going to have to reward them,’ said Cale.
‘You want to give them a bung?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘We’re not strong enough to move against them. I talked to IdrisPukke and Vipond and they put me right. There isn’t time to start a revolution. Bosco took twenty years to take down his enemies in Chartres and even then he had to move more quickly than he wanted to. We can’t kill a dozen members of the Royal Family – we can’t even afford to upset them too much. We have to bribe them to get out of the way. We need to make them anxious and then offer them a way out. Not too anxious, and a generous exit. Tricky but possible.’
‘And the factory owners?’
‘We can do whatever we like to them.’
There was a short silence.
‘Bollocks!’ shouted Vague Henri, truly frustrated and angry. ‘Promise that if we’re still alive when this is over we’ll come back and fuck them up. Tell me we’ll do that.’