The Folding Knife Part 29

If they were Sentio's kids, or Aelius', or even some off-relation's, that reason wouldn't stand the strain. If they were my sons, he thought; but, probably, they were. Never thought of them like that, though. Always thought of them as her sons. Would that be the reason?

Or maybe he simply didn't hold with rape. Just as likely. A disgusting offence, he'd always thought, and what good did it do? Theft he could understand; murder, in certain circ.u.mstances. (I've done both, he remembered; it was an uncomfortable thought, though of course he'd never actually broken the law.) Would I really allow the state to geld my own sons because of a principle? He thought about that. Not sure, he found.

There had to be a reason. Maybe, he thought, I'm so used to equivocating that I don't actually know what it is, just that there is one, and it's valid. I could give a convincing reason to somebody else, anybody; just not to myself.

Melsuntha was waiting for him at the House. "Well?" she said. He smiled. She'd learned that turn of phrase from him. Most people who knew him picked it up sooner or later. Then he remembered he'd learned it from Aelius, when he was a boy.

"Get a lawyer," he said, struggling out of his heavy coat. "I want to know what's involved in disowning your sons."

She frowned. "Can you do that?"

"You used to be able to," Ba.s.so replied. "Two hundred years ago. I remember reading about it. There was an established procedure. It was a Chancery action, I think. Basically you had to sue yourself in your capacity as the sons' guardian. Find out if it's still legal."

She nodded. "You're thinking of doing it?"

"I like to know what options are available." He sat down, looked at the brandy decanter, decided against it. I'm stupid enough already (one of his sayings) without taking medicine to make me stupider. "Did Furio come by?"

"You just missed him," she said.

"And?"

"They've listed a magistrate," she told him. "Provisionally booked for tomorrow morning, the common sessions. He wanted to know what you intend to do."

"There's a coincidence. I want to know what I intend to do." He looked down at his hands: unhelpful, as ever. "What would you do?"

She thought for a moment. "I'd have the girl killed," she said. "She's the key witness; without her, it's all circ.u.mstantial-the doctor and the landlord and so on. I'd make it look like suicide, of course. Probably a note, saying she'd accused them falsely and couldn't live with herself."

Ba.s.so laughed. "What makes you think a girl like that can read and write?"

She shrugged. "Before her death she went to a public scrivener. He could give evidence at the inquest; that'd be good." She looked at him, challenging him. "It would solve everything."

He nodded. "The scrivener's a nice touch," he said, "and one which, I confess, hadn't occurred to me."

"So you'll do it?"

"No."

She accepted his refusal without the slightest reaction. "In that case, what do you have in mind?"

He sighed, and felt weak. "Let them get on with it," he said. "I guess, all things considered, I could live with Ba.s.so the Just."

"It has a certain ring to it," she said.

"Quite. Only," he went on, "I'm a bit fed up with the notion of justice just lately. Justice is all right, but I'm not happy about the company it keeps."

She knew that his sister had been to see him. She understood. "With friends like that," she said, and pushed her hair away from her eyes. "It would mean that she'd won."

Ba.s.so nodded. "Yes," he said. "And to be fair, maybe she's due a victory. Am I very selfish for not wanting it to be this one?"

Ba.s.sano said: "So what's the plan?"

Ba.s.so explained. The reasons he chose to give were political and ethical. He made a good case and took trouble over his choice of words. When he'd finished, Ba.s.sano said, "Integrity."

"What about it?"

"Nothing," Ba.s.sano replied. "It's a wonderful thing, and I approve of it. But I can't help thinking of all those stories you get in the popular histories, like the ones they made me read when I was a kid. The three Torquati holding the pa.s.s against the Five Thousand, or Caelius divorcing his wife. Or Pacatia.n.u.s, hanging his son for treason."

"Well?"

"Well," Ba.s.sano said meekly, "you're supposed to be inspired and eager to go out and give your life for your country. But I always thought, how selfish."

Ba.s.so looked at him. "Strange you should use that word."

"Or Carinus," Ba.s.sano said. "Didn't he have his son court-martialled for disobeying orders, even though the charge he led won the battle?"

"That was Popilius," Ba.s.so said. "Carinus was the man with the elephants."

"My mistake. But yes, selfish. I suppose heroes have to be. A hero doesn't think, if I go into battle against impossible odds and get myself killed, my wife will lose the farm and my kid'll grow up without a father. It makes you wonder, what sort of a man thinks like that? And I'm prepared to bet, though of course we'll never know, nine times out of ten there was some other reason."

"There's always another reason," Ba.s.so said.

"Of course there is."

The evening before the magistrates' hearing, Ba.s.sano came home late. He looked very cold and tired, as though he'd been doing a rotten job he hadn't enjoyed at all. He found Ba.s.so in his study, a pile of letters on the desk in front of him, the stopper still in the ink-bottle.

"Just thought you should know," Ba.s.sano said. "The twins are downstairs."

Ba.s.so stared at him. "What have you done?"

Ba.s.sano frowned. "It's like this," he said, and his voice was harder than Ba.s.so had ever heard it before. "The girl went to the magistrate and withdrew the charges." When Ba.s.so tried to interrupt, he held up his hand; Ba.s.so knew where that gesture came from. "She explained that some very bad men came to her and said that they wanted her to lay false charges against your sons. If she didn't cooperate, bad things would happen to her family in the country. The magistrate is considering prosecuting her for perjury. You might want to intervene."

Ba.s.so repeated: "What have you done?"

"Do you want to know?"

"Yes."

"Fine." Ba.s.sano dropped into a chair and closed his eyes, as though he'd just put down a heavy weight he'd carried a long way. "I went to see her. As you know, she's a barmaid at the Glorious Victory; pretty girl, I've noticed her when I've been in there myself. Oddly enough, she remembered me; it's so rare for one of the fencing school crowd to order just tea or water."

"And?"

Ba.s.sano didn't answer straight away. "I put it to her that having the twins hanged would be justice, but it wouldn't do her any good. Fifteen thousand nomismata, on the other hand..."

Ba.s.so stared at him. "You paid her fifteen thousand nomismata."

"Yes." He grinned, and for a split second he was himself again. "Cash. I actually carried it up the back stairs at the Victory, in sacks. Have you any idea how much fifteen thousand nomismata weighs? I had to make two trips, and my back's killing me."

"You haven't got anything like that kind of money."

Ba.s.sano nodded. "Borrowed it," he said. "From-I guess you'd call him a loan shark, though he was perfectly civil. I had to mortgage my expectations from my father's estate." Ba.s.sano looked at him, then burst out laughing. "Oh for pity's sake, Uncle," he said. "You look like you've been given a really expensive present you don't actually want. Anyway," he went on, crisp and firm, as if he didn't really care what Ba.s.so thought, "that's that sorted out. The twins are off the hook, the girl's got enough money to buy a good-sized farm or a couple of decent s.h.i.+ps, and we can put all the blame on shadowy conspirators, either Optimates or Mavortines or both. I flatter myself that it's the sort of thing you might have done." He paused, then said, "Why didn't you?"

"I didn't think of it," Ba.s.so said quietly.

"I think you should go down and talk to your sons," Ba.s.sano said. "They're feeling rather sorry for themselves. I reckon they need a good shouting-at, to get their circulation moving."

Ba.s.so stayed where he was. "It's true," he said. "I didn't think of it. Why, do you suppose?"

"Oh, I expect you're losing your touch," Ba.s.sano said cheerfully. "Or else you couldn't be bothered to apply your mind."

Ba.s.so said; "That's rather harsh, isn't it?"

"Yes," Ba.s.sano replied. "And my back hurts, and I need to wash my hands. The banisters at the Victory are covered in grease. I guess it's because they spit-roast so much meat." He paused again, then said, "Well?"

"Thanks," Ba.s.so said.

Ba.s.sano smiled. "You're welcome," he said. "So, did I pa.s.s?"

"It wasn't meant to be a test. You weren't supposed to be involved, even."

"I know. But did I pa.s.s?"

Ba.s.so nodded. "One of us did," he said. "And I don't think it was me."

"Agreed," Ba.s.sano said. He stretched, like a cat. "You owe me seventeen thousand nomismata."

"Seventeen..."

"Interest," Ba.s.sano explained. "Not a nice man, despite appearances."

"For crying out loud." Ba.s.so pulled a comic-grief face. "Promise me one thing," he said. "Next time you want to borrow money, go to the Bank."

Thirteen.

Quite suddenly, the war was ready. Even Ba.s.so, who'd got it all drawn out on paper, admitted he was taken by surprise. Two days earlier, all he'd been able to see were huge, insuperable problems. He solved them, fully expecting to find more springing up in their place. But there weren't any. Everybody was where they were supposed to be. The s.h.i.+ps were tied up at the dock, all the supplies and equipment loaded. The senior staff had patched up their differences and were actually on speaking terms with each other. There was hay for the horses, bacon and boots and blankets; tents, guy-ropes, tent pegs, mallets; shovels, picks, entrenching tools, surgical instruments, baskets, hayboxes, buckets, bottles, rope, nails, saws, hammers, spokeshaves and rivet sets, b.u.t.ter and candles and horseshoes and lamp wicks and sheeps' wool grease, seven miles of ox backstrap sinew, needles and hobnails, folding chairs and travelling inkwells, a quarter of a ton of best shredded-linen paper, charcoal, cups, plates, eight-gallon pans and fire-irons, mittens and calibrated surveyors' poles and s.h.i.+eld covers, a hundredweight of dried oak-apples (for making ink), three HusaVesani dictionaries and two million arrows. Twelve thousand Cazars had been paid, hair-cut and shaved, clothed, trained and told what to do and where to sit on the s.h.i.+ps. A hundred and forty-seven copies of Standing Orders had been written out and delivered to the officers. The Patriarch had blessed the expedition in Temple, the House had ratified Aelius' command, the Bank had advanced the government an extra quarter-million nomismata, the spear-shaft turners had delivered on time (just) and the last consignment of five thousand s.h.i.+eld cover strap buckles had been prised out of the foundry. People who knew about such things promised a favourable wind for an hour after first light in the morning. Everything, unbelievably, was done and perfect.

Ba.s.so gave his nephew two going-away presents. One was a brigandine coat: two thousand carefully shaped spring-tempered steel plates sandwiched between a leather backing and a red velvet outer layer, articulated to allow total freedom of movement. Ba.s.so had had it specially made (he'd secretly borrowed several of Ba.s.sano's favourite coats for the armourer to take measurements from); it was proof against sword, lance and Cazar composite bow at five paces, and the collar and shoulder seams were double-ruffed and slashed over silk underlay, in the latest City fas.h.i.+on. The other present was the complete Dialogues of Scaphio Metellinus, in one volume, written so small that the book fitted easily in the pocket of a standard-issue greatcoat, but still legible by candlelight (Ba.s.so tested this for himself). Aelius also had a present for him: a Type Fourteen riding sword (short blade, wide at the hilt, tapering to a keen point, broad double fuller; best watered Auxentine steel). Melsuntha gave him a fur-lined hat reinforced with horn plates. His mother gave him a folding triptych showing the three evolutions of the Invincible Sun, inscribed with appropriate verses from the Book of Admonitions.

"What I was hoping for," Ba.s.sano said, "was five pairs of thick wool socks. But it's the thought that counts."

They rode together in Ba.s.so's closed coach as far as the bottom of Portway, and neither of them said anything all the way. As Ba.s.sano opened the coach door, Ba.s.so said, "Well, look after yourself."

"You too," Ba.s.sano said, and walked away.

Ba.s.so drove to meet the House representatives, who were there for the official launch ceremony. Ba.s.so kept his speech short and trite, and formally handed Aelius his commission. Ba.s.sano stood behind Aelius and just to his left; he looked sombre, and Ba.s.so could see he was trying very hard not to s.h.i.+ver in the cold. Some priest said a prayer. To conclude the performance, Ba.s.so had to grab Aelius by the neck, shake him and say, "Come back victorious or not at all." It was traditional (Glabrius had said it to the younger Pa.s.sienus at the siege of Luma, six hundred years ago), but Ba.s.so couldn't help thinking that Aelius always seemed to be on the thick end of Vesani military ritual.

"Look after him," he whispered.

Aelius nodded. "It'll be fine," he replied.

Then Aelius and his party boarded the flags.h.i.+p, a band started playing noisy music, sails were unfurled and slowly filled, anchors were raised and the s.h.i.+ps started to wallow lazily away from the edge of the City.

It was considered to be bad luck for the First Citizen to watch the fleet out of harbour, so Ba.s.so left the rostrum, went back to his coach, drove home and got on with some work.

Tragazes had asked for an appointment.

"As yet," he said, "there's really nothing to worry about. However, if we continue to lend to the Treasury on this scale, in six months' time it's likely that we will technically be overcommitted."

"Technically," Ba.s.so repeated. "What does that mean?"

Tragazes explained that according to best practice, the Bank should not lend more than four times its reserve. Should that limit be exceeded, existing loans should be called in to maintain liquidity, or a.s.sets should be liquidated to provide cash in hand. Technically.

"But we're lending to the government," Ba.s.so pointed out, "and the government is me. Besides, if we reach the point where the government's forced to default on its borrowing, financial ruin will be the least of our problems. We'll be more concerned about getting out of town before we're lynched by the hunger rioters in the streets."

Tragazes didn't react at all. "I have an obligation under standing rules of procedure to bring the matter to your attention," he said.

"Well, you've done that," Ba.s.so replied. "Thanks. Anything else?"

Tragazes looked down at the papers in his lap. "The most recent loan to the Treasury is secured against the government's projected income from sale of war plunder, captured enemy arms and equipment, livestock and personal chattels," he said. "It's inc.u.mbent on me to point out that under the Bank's const.i.tution, these commodities do not represent adequate collateral for a loan exceeding fifty thousand nomismata, since they are both uncertain as to value and also potential, as opposed to being a.s.sets in hand."

Ba.s.so waited. Then he said, "And?"

Tragazes didn't quite shrug. "It's my duty to mention it to you."

"Right. Any other business?"

Another glance at the crib sheet. "There are unsettling rumours concerning the Hope and Courage trading partners.h.i.+p," he said. "We have reason to believe that four of their s.h.i.+ps have been impounded by the Praxinoan authorities for excise violations. If this is true, it's likely that the Hope and Courage will not be able to make its periodic interest payment on time. They are indebted to us in the sum of nine hundred thousand nomismata."

Ba.s.so shook his head. "They're good for the money," he replied. "It's all secured on the Naevius family estates; vineyards, mostly, out east."

"I was about to draw your attention to the reports of predicted crop failures-"

"It'll be fine," Ba.s.so interrupted. "If they can't make the payment on time, reschedule. Antigonus used to say, old money's worth twice as much as new money in hard times. They aren't going anywhere."

"In that case," Tragazes said, "thank you for your time."

(On the other hand, Ba.s.so told himself, as Tragazes closed the door behind him, he's a very efficient chief clerk, and I pay him to be annoyingly fussy. Means I don't have to do it myself.) For the rest of the day, he found that he was taking rather longer than usual to plough through the routine work. He'd always had the gift of ferociously intense concentration, which brought with it the ability to see the simple question at the heart of the complex and apparently insuperable problem; now he caught himself reading paragraphs two or three times and still having their meaning bounce off him, like stones off a s.h.i.+eld. He found the experience disturbing, and decided to run away from it.

Since the first a.s.sa.s.sination attempt, he'd been under strict orders from Aelius, his cabinet and the House not to go anywhere in public without the minimum prescribed number of suitably trained and equipped bodyguards. The House had even pa.s.sed a law (the Safety of the First Citizen Act), any breach of which would render him liable to official censure and a small fine. Naturally, Ba.s.so respected the law, unless it was absolutely inconvenient.

He'd noticed that one of the grooms in the main stable was in the habit of leaving his coat and hat hanging from a nail in the back of the tack-room door. It was about the time when the horses would be getting their evening feed. He opened his study door very quietly, stopped to listen, then crept down the back stairs and out into the east yard. He located the grooms by the sounds of buckets on stone and voices, then walked quickly across the yard and into the tack room. The coat and hat were where he'd expected to find them. He put on the coat (slightly too long for him, and tight across the shoulders), crammed his head into the hat and pulled the brim down; thought better of it (only suspicious characters walk around with their hat brims pulled down, unless it's raining); in case he forgot later, he put three silver solidi in the coat pocket, by way of rent.