Arcadia Page 48

  I assembled my information, inserted my problems – the arrival of Chang, an entire transcript of his conversation, Rosie, the difficulties of shutting down the machinery, Lucien Grange, Emily – and lay back.

  What I had at the end was the most complex piece of work I had ever achieved. A railway line with points, and a train waiting. I, Rosie and Henry were passengers. Henry was shouting something about Shakespeare, but Wind was hitting him, rather like a Punch and Judy show. On the ground, an old man was reading a book given to him by a young girl dressed like a peasant. He pulled a lever and the train began to move. As it went over the points, the girl laughed, ran to the train and jumped on. Rosie tried to get off, but couldn’t open the carriage door. The old man was left behind as the train vanished down the tracks.

  So what did this mean? Henry shouting about Shakespeare was the easiest. Once, in the South of France, he gave me an impassioned discourse defending Shakespeare’s plots, saying that outrageous coincidence was more natural than carefully formed, reasoned action.

  Rosie was also simple; she couldn’t come back. I had set the machine to prevent anyone from Anterwold wandering into this world. Rosie had come back and the machine would now think the copy was indigenous to Anterwold. Changing that would mean rebuilding the entire machine and there wasn’t going to be time. If she stepped through, then she would simply vanish, from this world and from Anterwold.

  Next came the image of the train. The old man looked triumphant as he changed the points and the train went forward again, down a different track. The girl jumped onto the train. She looked a bit like Rosie in my mind, but was not.

  That took the real work to understand, but the result was devastating. All causes are balanced by consequences, and each is merely a different form of the other. They are interchangeable, like energy and matter. What I had done by creating Anterwold was not just the cause of history changing; it was the consequence of it as well.

  There is no difference between cause and effect. That is an illusion created by belief in time. If I drop a cup, the cup breaks. The dropping is the cause, the breaking is the effect, because one happens after the other. Remove the notion of time and that no longer works. Each is the required condition for the other to take place. As the cup breaks, I am required to drop it. It is like the pair of scales again, where conditions in one pan determine the state of the other one.

  Ordinarily, it is relatively simple to calculate such things as there is only one line of existence. However, my experiment had created another one and they were interacting. I could not close Anterwold because Rosie was in it. If she had come back then I might have kept control. But she split in two, because she was wearing rings on her toes.

  The same applied to the Devil’s Handwriting. It existed because of actions taken in my future. But those actions equally depended on its existence.

  That was it. In my vision, nothing was done by any of the actors on the train. They just watched out of the window. The central actions came from outside, from the man pulling the lever.

  It was obviously Oldmanter; I had never met him nor seen a photograph but my unconscious always had a weakness for poor puns. The girl telling him what to do could only be one person. That’s why I was worried. I wasn’t battling Hanslip, or even Oldmanter; I could outthink them easily. I wasn’t certain I could outthink my daughter. I’d seen her file. She was possibly smarter than I was.

  From that point it was fairly simple to sketch out a potential chain of events. Chang told me Hanslip knew of the Devil’s Handwriting. Hanslip would assume there was a reason this document was hidden where only a historian would be able to find it. So he sends More to contact Emily. Of course he does.

  More goes south. Oldmanter would certainly track that; it was clear from Grange he wanted my project. Emily would be attracted to More – I found him rather handsome and we would have a similar outlook on the subject. Besides, she would be intrigued by the connection to me.

  But how does the data get to Oldmanter, and why would he not conduct rigorous checks to ensure it was safe? Here conjecture had to come in, but the only variable I had left was Emily.

  I could not see her agreeing to help find the data unless she knew what it was; she would discover it was not only valuable but also dangerous. Of course she would; she would not assist merely so some institute could make money. To get her help, someone like More would have to tell her that finding it was important for the safety of the planet. She would understand immediately that it offered the chance of accomplishing in an instant what she was otherwise prepared to wait for over centuries. As a renegade, she believed the world of science would bring about its own ruin; this would be a spectacular demonstration of that.

  Rather than making sure it was never used, she would do her best to ensure it was. But at the cost of her own life, and of those who thought like her? Not if she was like me. How could she possibly accomplish that, though? That I couldn’t figure out. I didn’t have enough information. What was Oldmanter going to do to change the points on the railway line? What form would his intervention take?

  I was getting close now, I could feel it, but I would have to test the conclusions thoroughly. What I had was only marginally more likely than many alternatives; it was not solid enough to rely on.

  Then that stupid man Wind arrived and interrupted me yet again. Worse still, I was heavily under the influence, so I didn’t make a very good impression.

  *

  ‘I need some answers,’ he said as he came into Angela’s cell and sat down. ‘Are you all right?’

  Angela was sitting on the bench that doubled as a bed. Her eyes were wide and her pupils dilated, and she twitched almost uncontrollably as he spoke to her. She seemed to him as though she was having a panic attack. Guilt? Or just plain fear? he wondered.

  ‘Perfectly,’ she replied. ‘Fabulous. I am asking myself questions as well, so you can’t bother me at the moment.’

  ‘I’m afraid I must insist.’

  ‘On your head be it, then.’

  ‘Are you ill? You look very odd.’

  ‘Oh. No. It’s a sort of …’ She waved vaguely at her head. ‘Comes on me, every now and then. Nothing serious. Did you say you wanted something?’

  ‘I need to ask you about the man who vanished.’

  Angela wrinkled her nose in disappointment.

  ‘Eh? Oh, him. An extraneous factor, doesn’t really affect the outcome. Just a data store, really.’

  ‘Do you know who he was?’

  ‘I have never seen him before.’ She giggled. ‘That is the truth, because “before” is such a useful word. Germanic roots, I think.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m so sorry. Mind all over the place today.’

  ‘I have been going through your files.’

  ‘I didn’t know I had any.’

  ‘There is no trace of you whatsoever before 1937. We have been unable to track down your parents, old addresses, anything.’

  ‘Not very good files, then.’

  ‘We have established that information you gave when you became a translator in 1940 was false. Schools, addresses and so on: none checked out.’

  ‘Doesn’t say much for your vetting procedure.’

  ‘The form was, in fact, filled in for you by Henry Lytten, who also acted as your referee and sponsor.’

  ‘Because of my languages, you see. There was a war on. All hands to the pump, he said.’

  ‘We also noted that between 1945 and 1952 you came to England for a brief stay, then went on trips – to Vienna, Berlin on one occasion, Stockholm and Geneva. Why?’

  ‘Henry asked me to deliver manuscripts for him. He didn’t trust the post and he was keen to rebuild the academic community. I helped out, and always took a little holiday while I was at it.’

  ‘I see. Let me ask about yesterday. This mysterious stranger. Bringing him to the house was your idea, so the policeman says. Did he say why he was watching Henry’s h
ouse?’

  ‘I didn’t ask him. It was none of my business.’

  ‘How did he escape?’

  ‘You were the one guarding the place. Now, are there any more questions? Is that what you came for?’

  Angela moved close to him. Her eyes cleared and she held him by the chin as she studied him, then tittered in a high, slightly hysterical laugh. ‘Oh, I see what you are getting at.’ She let him go, then pushed him away and leaned back against the wall. ‘Of course. That’s how it might work. You are such a silly man, Sam Wind. Has anyone ever told you that?’

  55

  ‘We must go to the circle soon, so that we may welcome the suppliants,’ Henary said to Rosalind the following morning.

  ‘You said there must be someone to preside. Who will that be?’

  ‘The spirit of Esilio presides,’ he said with a smile, ‘but as this procedure has not been employed for a very long time, I really do not know how it will work. I have read as much as possible in the last day, but there is little to discover. For Jay even to think of it was very ingenious and unorthodox. I suspect it will take the form of an ordinary trial, which would mean that the spirit will move through the most qualified. I’m afraid that will probably be Gontal, now that I am bound to Pamarchon.’

  ‘That’s no good,’ Rosalind said.

  ‘Perhaps it will not be so bad. He has an interest in seeing both of them found guilty. As that is not an option, he will have no choice but to be scrupulously fair. He is not a bad man, really, although he is full of his name and greatly desires power. He is generally saved by his reverence for the Story.’

  The pair walked out of a side door, through the courtyards used mainly by stable boys and those who worked in the kitchens; Henary was concerned to ensure that Gontal did not notice them, lest he intercept Pamarchon before he could claim the protection of the Shrine.

  ‘Tell me about this Shrine,’ Rosalind said as they walked. ‘Why is it so special?’

  ‘It is the grave of Esilio.’

  ‘He’s the man I read about. Who was he?’

  ‘There are many opinions. Some hold that he was simply a courageous leader who brought us back from exile to settle the land. Others think that he was – or is – a god. The god, perhaps, who created us then abandoned us. This view holds that he will return and judge whether we have lived well enough to be forgiven the sins of our ancestors.’

  ‘Which sins are those?’

  ‘They are said to be so grave that they were hidden, lest we despair of redeeming ourselves.’

  They walked round a curve in the track and there before them was the stone circle – more an oval, really, Rosalind thought – with the monument inside where she had first encountered Pamarchon. Only what? Five days ago? It seemed like an age to her.

  As they entered the circle there was a movement in the bushes at the far end, and three figures emerged. They hurriedly crossed over the line into the sanctuary.

  ‘Done it,’ said one. ‘That’s a relief.’

  There they all were. Jay, Pamarchon, Kate, and Henary looking at them. The four people, Rosalind realised, she liked most in the world. This world, anyway. They were all safe, for the time being.

  She gave every one of them an enormous hug, leaving the last and biggest for Pamarchon, who wrapped his arms around her and nestled his head against hers. ‘I’m so happy to see you again.’

  ‘As am I.’

  They were interrupted by a discreet cough in the background.

  ‘Oh, yes. Introductions. If you don’t mind I will dispense with your formalities. I don’t like them, and I’m not in the mood. Pamarchon, son of – someone or other. Henary, scholar of Ossenfud.’

  ‘Welcome back, my Lady,’ Henary said. ‘You have led us a merry dance for the past few days. I am glad to see you looking so well.’

  Catherine acknowledged Henary with a warm smile, then turned to Pamarchon.

  ‘I no longer need your protection, Pamarchon, son of Isenwar,’ she said. ‘Our truce is at an end. When I came to you first, you thought me a mere servant, yet you treated me with consideration. You not only followed the dictates of kindness but went far beyond them. You have given protection according to your position. I offer you my thanks. What must happen here cannot be changed. But I will not fulfil my part in hatred.’

  ‘It seems that I am not very good at seeing the truth in women’s hearts, or am too trusting of their words,’ Pamarchon replied. ‘I briefly thought the woman I loved most in the world was a mere boy; I thought the woman I hated most in the world was a mere servant. One I love because of who she is, the other I hate only because of what she has done. Separate person and deeds, and my hatred dies like a plant deprived of water.’

  Rosalind sighed. They were off again. But the others seemed highly satisfied.

  ‘The deeds and the person will be separated at the end.’

  ‘Deeds and those who commit them are not always the same.’

  ‘One can be many and yet—’

  ‘Enough. Enough, you two,’ Rosalind interrupted. ‘I know you enjoy it, but don’t we have more urgent things to do?’

  They scowled at her, but Henary came to her support. ‘She is right; we must summon the domain. You are aware, Catherine, that time is short. The assembly begins at dusk.’

  ‘I will take care of it,’ she said.

  ‘By what right? You are no longer the Lady of this place. You have no more authority than the servant you were not so long ago.’

  Catherine gave him what Rosalind thought was a very nasty look.

  ‘Jay! Go as quickly as you can to the Chamberlain. Say he is to ring the bell for a trial. Tell him who and where, and say it must begin within the hour. Then go to Gontal and tell him. You will not get a good reception, but I’m afraid you will have to put up with that.’

  ‘Then should I come back here?’

  ‘As you choose.’

  ‘It’s just that I have to prepare.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘I am to defend Lady Catherine.’

  Now it was Henary’s turn to be astounded. ‘Whose idea was that?’

  ‘We agreed,’ Catherine said. ‘Who has been chosen for Pamarchon?’

  ‘I have. I could not refuse,’ he said.

  *

  It was a hastily assembled procession, but a large one. First came the Chamberlain, hurrying through the thickets with only a few followers. Next a gaggle of servants from the house, then ever more people from the nearby fields, abandoning their tools to see what was going on, and villagers from the settlements all around. Finally Gontal arrived, bringing with him his soldiers. Bit by bit, more than a hundred gathered.

  No one, though, dared step into the circle except Gontal.

  ‘What exactly does all this mean?’ he asked, then stopped as he realised who everyone was. ‘Catherine. I am glad to see you restored to us, lesser in rank but whole in person.’

  She eyed him coolly but did not reply.

  ‘The choice and acclamation of the new ruler of Willdon must take place at dusk,’ Henary said. ‘You will present yourself as next in line, I have no doubt. One of these will do so as well. One will take on the guilt that lies between them and so, purified of any taint, the other will offer themselves. Both have claimed the privilege of Esilio, as laid down in the Story, and their wishes cannot be ignored.’

  Gontal’s eyes flickered between Henary, Pamarchon and Catherine, trying to work out whether there was any way of stopping what he considered to be a devious piece of trickery. He grunted and walked swiftly over to the Chamberlain. They had a hurried, quiet conversation; Gontal’s face darkened, and he stamped his foot in frustration. Then he walked back.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I imagine I must be the judge of the proceedings.’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ said Pamarchon and Catherine together.

  ‘Then who? Who has a better right than I?’ He smirked at the crowd gathering around. ‘Let any with greater authority than I pr
esent themselves to judge this matter.’ He called in a loud voice, ‘I command them to come forward!’

  No one answered, all were looking at him anxiously. Except for Rosalind, who suddenly took a few steps and then started gesturing, speaking to nothing.

  *

  To say that what happened next caused terror and chaos would be to understate matters considerably. Rosalind ran over to an empty part of the clearing and could be seen speaking fluently and quickly, making gestures of command and respect. She was talking to nothing, but as she spoke she was illuminated by a faint, heavenly light. Only Jay had ever seen anything like it before; only Henary had ever heard of such a thing. He knew enough of the Perplexities to realise his worst nightmare was coming true. What had he done? He had never really believed in it, even after his conversation with Rosalind. His curiosity had set this in motion. Now it could not be stopped. Gontal had spoken in the circle, summoning one greater than himself, someone with more authority, knowing that no one on earth could have any such authority. His presumption had been answered.

  He could not hear what Rosalind was saying; it was too fast and quiet, too far away. But he heard her last words. ‘Please come,’ she said, then stepped back.

  Henary’s stomach curdled as a shape appeared and took on a solid form. Cries of lamentation went up; where there had been only a faint light, a figure, a man, was now standing, resplendent in red robes, tall and powerful-looking. He did nothing, said nothing, but smiled at Rosalind. They felt the power of his glance as it swept over them.

  All fell onto their knees in reverence; a collective groan went up; some screamed and began sobbing in shock. Many covered their eyes, and those who did not looked in awe at the way that Rosalind, now revealed as a woman of great spiritual power, perhaps even the Herald of Doom itself, approached the spirit without fear. They had all seen it, they had witnessed with their own eyes something they would have dismissed as madness otherwise.