The Sword and the Plough Page 15

  Then, above it all, a woman’s voice rang out strong and clear.

  “Long live Bess.”

  Another voice took up the cry. More followed and yet more, until it had become a rousing chant.

  “Long live Bess. Long live Bess…”

  The Megran lieutenant raised his arm. “Ready!”

  The guards raised their rifles.

  The prisoners crouched, arms covering their heads. Many of the male prisoners attempted to shield their female companions.

  Somewhere close by a woman sobbed.

  Then suddenly, as suddenly as it had begun, the chanting died away. Lars looked up. Near the centre of the cage a solitary prisoner in grey civilian clothes stood above his prone fellows, his craggy face topped by a shock of pure white hair, his bony arms outstretched in supplication, calming the troubled sea.

  The Megran lieutenant nodded. The guards lowered their weapons.

  Slowly, painfully, the host of prisoners stood hiding the old man in their midst.

  There was no further attempt at resistance. In less than a minute, the Trionians were bustled in with the other prisoners, and the cage door shut and barred.

  “Lars?” Caroline touched his arm. There was an angry red burn across the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry we got you into all this.”

  Lars shot her a smile and shrugged. “It’s not your fault. I got myself into it.”

  Lars rubbed at the burn on his neck. It still stung painfully. He glanced unhappily round at the crowded scene about him. Now he was worlds away from his sister; light-years across the galaxy’s boundless wastes; if only the two of them had gone back to the farm when they had the chance. Long ago, when they were both children, he had promised Helen he would never leave her behind. Now he had to wonder if he would ever see her again…

  * * *

  “Hakim! Hakim!”

  Twelve-year-old Lars stood at the front door of his friend’s thatch and stone cottage. The door was open – the custom on Trion.

  Green fields were already in abundance on Hakim’s land, with young trees sprouting as windbreaks along fence lines in every direction, as far as the eye could see.

  “I’m out back, Lars. Come on through.”

  The sound of a hammer echoed from the yard at the back of the house.

  “Mum said to bring you eggs and milk,” Lars called. “I’ll leave them inside, shall I?”

  “Yes thanks, Lars, it’ll be cooler there for them.”

  Hakim’s black stone cottage had only one room, and the back door was directly opposite the front. Lars could see his friend working in his yard, nailing planks to make the top for a table.

  “Good to see you, Lars,” Hakim said, as his young friend made his way through to join him out back.

  “You’ll remember to thank your mother for me, won’t you?”

  Warm brown eyes smiled out from beneath a mop of tight black curls.

  Hakim was dressed in homespun cotton field clothes, grey from the ubiquitous black dust. His olive skin was streaked with black where the dust had stuck to his sweat, looking like tribal war paint.

  The area just outside the back door lay strewn with off-cuts from his furniture in the making.

  “Well, what do you think of my handiwork, Lars? Just the essentials to begin with – a bed, a table, and two chairs.”

  “Two chairs?” Lars queried.

  “Of course,” Hakim replied with a smile. “I must have somewhere for my friend, Lars, to sit.”

  Hakim had turned twenty the previous month, but to twelve-year-old Lars, Hakim had been a grown man for as long as he could remember.

  Hakim had come to Trion three years earlier as a stowaway aboard a freighter. No one had been able to determine where to send him back to. Finally, he had been allowed to stay as a refugee.

  The Kelmutts had taken him in and he had become one of the family. Hakim had worked hard, first as a labourer on other people’s farms, then later as a contractor with his own rock plough. He had saved to buy a piece of land and build his own home.

  “Mum said to invite you to dinner – that’s if you want to.”

  Hakim gave a surprised look. “If I want to? Have you ever known me turn down your mum’s cooking?”

  “Mum said seven o’clock.”

  “Right.”

  Lars watched Hakim drive three more nails into the tabletop, and then tap in the nail heads with a punch.

  “You’ve never told anyone where you come from, have you?” Lars asked suddenly.

  Hakim laughed. “No I haven’t.”

  “Are you ever going to?”

  “It’s not important anymore, Lars. The past isn’t worth remembering when it’s mostly bad. But, if it ever seems important to tell someone, I promise you’ll be the first to know.” Suddenly, Hakim glanced up past Lars. “Hah, look who’s here.”

  Lars spun round. His little sister, Helen, was standing in the doorway, stubby pink fingers tugging agitatedly at her shirt. Her bright yellow overalls were grimy with black dust at the knees. She had obviously fallen on the way over.

  “Lars didn’t wait for me,” the child complained, her bottom lip starting to tremble. “Mummy said he had to wait, but he didn’t.”

  Hakim knelt down in front of the child and took her small hands in his. “It’s all right, Helen,” he said softly. “You knew where to find him. Lars didn’t really mean to leave you behind.”

  Hakim wiped away the incipient tears. The child smiled.

  “Will you sit next to me at the dinner table?” the little girl asked.

  “Of course,” Hakim returned gently. “That’s the best seat at the table. And Lars, you won’t ever leave her behind again, will you?”

  “No,” Lars promised.

  Chapter 22

  Emergency meeting of the heads of state

  “Lars! Thank the stars.” Caroline had to raise her voice above the commotion of the cage. “Father and the major have been looking all over for you.”

  “For me?”

  She nodded. “Father’s asked for a meeting of planet governors and other planet officials, and he and the major want you to attend.”

  “Me?”

  Caroline smiled at his puzzled expression. “Father thinks a lot of your resourcefulness and the major does, too,” she explained. “We all do. We want you there when we discuss our options.”

  “Our options?”

  “Yes, ways in which we might help the queen.”

  She cast a sly glance at the cellar roof above them.

  “Apparently, we’re right beneath Ferdinand’s palace,” she continued with a grin. “I think he’s afraid of us and wants us where he can keep an eye on things.”

  Caroline took Lars by the hand, her small strong fingers entwined in his.

  “Let’s go see if we can dream up something that will really worry him.”

  Some thirty or so of the planet heads had already gathered by the time Lars and Caroline arrived. They were sitting in a circle. Several of the group sat cross-legged, others had arms clasped round raised knees, while others, less supple perhaps, had their legs out straight, their hands tucked under their thighs.

  Most of the men and women in the circle were middle-aged or older. Many wore the queen’s red. Their numbers also included some of Ferdinand’s top military staff who had not seen eye to eye with the prince. Rumour said several dissidents had already suffered summary execution.

  Outside the circle, the main body of prisoners created a din of raucous chatter, a barrier against Megran ears, while the tallest of them stood in a close ring round the meeting to counter enemy eyes.

  “Ah good, Lars, you’re just in time,” the governor said with a smile, indicating a space beside him. “We’re just starting.”

  A stern looking elderly man with bushy white hair, sitting across from Lars, held up a bony hand for silence. It was the same old man Lars had witnessed quell the near riot in the cage some twenty minutes or so earlier. The old man wore no
uniform to denote his title or importance, but instead a plain grey suit. But no badge of rank was necessary; there was an aura about the man that spoke for his authority.

  “Lord Magnus Southern, governor of Lumai,” Caroline whispered as she squeezed down beside Lars. She sat cross-legged, tucking her gown round her feet. Her gown no longer seemed so incongruous in this setting. There were several women similarly attired.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Lord Southern began. His voice was surprisingly clear and vibrant for his age. “The governor of Trion has asked me to convene this emergency meeting of Commonwealth heads. Unfortunately, we are all able to attend – Prince Ferdinand being the one exception.” There was a ripple of amusement at the old man’s grave irony. “I see no need for the usual protocol and pleasantries, indeed this is not the time or place for those. We are here to pool our information and decide on an immediate course of action.”

  He paused as a muttering of surprise rippled through the meeting. His thin white hand went up again for quiet.

  “No,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I have not forgotten where we are, but that must only make us the more determined.”

  For an instant, he saw again the Megran trooper point the light-bolt pistol at him the night of the ball. He had been certain then the man would shoot. Yet, to his surprise, he had been completely unafraid. He had been more concerned for the safety of his people. He felt the same way now.

  The horror that had met his eyes as his captors led him away – the charred rumps of sentries cut down by light-bolt fire, along with the strange stench of burnt human flesh – would stay forever, etched in his memory. Prince Ferdinand had to be stopped.

  “As chairman,” the governor of Lumai continued. “I am going to open the meeting by outlining the situation as I see it. Please do not hesitate to interpose if you have a contrary opinion.”

  There was a murmur of assent and nods of approval from the assembly.

  “Over the past few days,” he began, “we have been witness to – and indeed victims of – the biggest and most perfidious plot against the Earth Commonwealth of Planets in all its history.

  “For reasons of his own, Ferdinand of Megran has violated the sovereignty of our territories. He has caused pain, suffering and death to our citizens, taken away their personal liberty, and stolen or destroyed their property.”

  The old man stared up at the domed ceiling above him as he spoke, as if to accuse Ferdinand directly to his face.

  “With the perpetration of these crimes,” the old man continued. “Ferdinand of Megran has put himself outside our laws and therefore forfeited all rights and privileges of membership that a citizen of the Commonwealth enjoys.

  “In the absence of the queen, I – as a senior member of the Commonwealth Council – declare Ferdinand of Megran to be an enemy to our way of life and therefore outside our protection. Consequently, I also strip him of all his properties and titles.”

  The old man paused again and looked solemnly around the silent circle of faces.

  “You will all no doubt realise that such a declaration carries with it an automatic sentence of banishment or death, whichever our queen chooses to enforce.

  “Do I have the meeting’s endorsement for this declaration?”

  For one long held breath, a stunned silence held sway. Then, one by one, slowly at first and then less hesitantly, each of the Commonwealth leaders motioned or otherwise signalled their agreement.

  “Good. That much then is settled,” Lord Southern said. “We can now proceed to examine Ferdinand’s plans and see what we can come up with to counter them.”

  Beneath the bright lights of the cellar, the rowdy smokescreen babble of two hundred prisoners persisted unbroken. Outside the prison cage the Megran guards stood their watch and wished their time of duty would pass more quickly.

  The old man picked up his theme. “It would seem that Ferdinand’s first purpose is the military defeat of our queen, thus leading to the overthrow of the system of government we enjoy and support.

  “As a means to that end, he has launched a series of surprise attacks on Her Majesty’s allies, defeating them one by one, thus isolating the home planet, Earth.

  “By first rendering our communications inoperative, by one means or another, and then by the taking of hostages, Ferdinand has effectively silenced us as well, thereby giving himself time to regroup his forces for a massive assault upon the Earth.

  “Much of this is supposition, of course, but from what I’ve heard from most of you – and I assume Trion has suffered a similar fate…” Sir Henry gave an affirmative nod and Lord Southern continued. “We can guess the populace of each planet will be forced to resume normal communications and dealings with Earth for fear of reprisals against the hostages. The queen will thus be unaware that anything is amiss.

  “Now, such a subterfuge cannot last forever. Inevitably, Earth’s military intelligence will become suspicious. However, if my estimates are correct, Ferdinand requires only five or six more days at the most, by the galactic calendar, to be ready to commence hostilities against Earth.”

  Lord Southern’s gaze scanned the circle of intent faces and he smiled grimly.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said softly. “What can we do, locked up here in this cage as we are? Ferdinand has us completely at his mercy. Held as it were in the palm of his hand, he can crush any or all us at will.”

  The old man’s bony hand had curled up into a tight fist as he spoke.

  “Nevertheless, if we wish to save anything – anything at all of the Commonwealth we respect and cherish. If we wish to protect our families and friends, our fellow citizens; if we have any love for our queen, who represents our chosen way of life, then we must do all in our power to warn Her Majesty before it is too late.”

  There was a swell of excited murmurings. Lord Southern let it die away, and then his eyes sought out the major.

  “Major Waterman,” he said. “We all respect your judgement in these matters. Is there anything you wish to add?”

  “Thank you, Lord Southern. Yes, I think there is.” The major paused, considering his words. “Let me say at the outset that I agree with Lord Southern. The only hope we have, or the Commonwealth has, lies with alerting the queen to the danger in time.

  “I won’t ask at this stage, Lord Southern, how you intend to get word to Her Majesty from here, but I imagine you have some means in mind.”

  The old man gave no sign, one way or the other.

  The major’s gaze traversed his audience taking in the circle of hopeful faces.

  “However, that being said, let me hasten to point out that Ferdinand appears to have planned his strategy only too well, leaving little to chance. Even assuming we could warn the queen, the problems that still face Her Majesty are legion.

  “If we consider just one example: the plight of the hostages on each of our home planets. I take it, Lord Southern, that you would deem their rescue a priority before any retaliatory action proceeded?”

  The old man gave a curt nod. “Of course, if at all possible.”

  The major nodded. “Yes indeed, if at all possible,” he echoed.

  The major deliberated for a moment. “Even assuming that we can get word to the queen to warn her,” he said at length. “And also supposing a way can be found to effect the rescue of the hostages, as I see it Her Majesty will still be little better off in the long run.

  “With the captured resources of four other planets, combined with Megran’s own considerable military might, Ferdinand’s forces will be vastly superior to those of the queen.”

  “I see, yes,” Lord Southern interposed. “Is there any way those odds could be altered, Major?” he asked. “In the queen’s favour, of course,” he added quickly.

  “Hmm! The only way that I can see,” the major said, his brow creasing, “would be for the inhabitants of each planet to launch a counter attack and tie down some of Ferdinand’s forces, thus lessening the numbers against the que
en.”

  “Yes, yes,” Lord Southern was smiling happily. “Then perhaps there is a way,” he said. “Now we are getting somewhere.”

  “Lord Southern!” Caroline spoke up from beside Lars. The young man noted the tentativeness in her tone.

  “Yes Lady Caroline?”

  “I hate to add a note of pessimism at this stage…” The young woman hesitated, suddenly aware of what her words might do to the morale of the meeting.

  “Please continue, Lady Caroline,” the old man urged. “We cannot hope to decide upon a course of action until we have considered all the facts as we understand them, whether they appear to help our cause or not.”

  Caroline nodded. “Well, it may have just been bragging,” she began. “But a rather nasty Megran bully, the sergeant in charge of the prisoners on Trion, boasted to us that they were the clever ones, not us.” She paused. “They – meaning the Megran forces,” she added. The old man’s head bobbed his understanding. “The sergeant then went on to say that they had collected up all the weapons on Trion. He also reminded us that they had the hostages.

  “We were all pretty angry at the time, and it may have been pure arrogance on his part, but I took note of it in case he had let slip something important that might be of use to us later on.”

  Lars saw several people in the circle smile and nod approvingly.

  “It seems to me now,” Caroline went on, “that there probably was a weapons collection. It makes sense as a measure to prevent any attempt to rescue the hostages, let alone the possibility of a counter attack.

  “If this true,” the young woman continued, her expression grave, “then I imagine that Ferdinand will have taken this precaution on every planet.”

  There were a few minutes of subdued discussion within the assembly. Then several members voiced their belief that there had indeed been a similar collection of weapons on their home planet.

  “Major?” Lord Southern enquired somewhat abruptly. “Is the logistics of such a task even possible?”