The Malacia Tapestry. Brian Aldiss

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      Two pretty heads went to one side as they gazed upon me. My head was turned completely.

      ‘Why not,’ said the brown-haired one, ‘become a player? It’s a terribly varied career which gives pleasure to many.’

      My hopes rose within me, so much so that I reached forward and seized her hand where it lay on the table. ‘How kind of you to suggest it!’

      Armida said, ‘Pooh, not a player! They’re poor and the stories they play out are dull … It’s the lowest form of animal life! There’s no advancement in it.’

      The effect of this speech from those lips was enough to cool my blood by several degrees, down almost to frost level. Matters were only saved by Armida’s leaning forward and adding, confidingly, ‘Bedalar’s latest fancy is a player – he’s handsome, grant you that – so she thinks nothing male is of any use unless it basks before the limelights every evening at seven.’

      Bedalar put out a pretty tongue at her friend. ‘You’re only jealous!’

      Armida showed her an even prettier tongue back. I could have watched such rivalry all evening, while thinking how cordially I would receive that nimble little tongue into my own cheek. So involved were my senses that only later did Bedalar’s name register on me; I had heard it before that day.

      Armida’s air of imparting a confidence had soothed me, but there was a chill in the conversation, as the two girls gazed at each other and I gazed moodily at them.

      Fortunately, chocolate arrived in a silver pot, and we occupied ourselves with drinking.

      Setting down her cup, Bedalar announced that she must leave.

      ‘We all know whom you’re going to meet, so don’t be so coy,’ said Armida. Turning to me as her friend left, she said, ‘The new-found player. He’s out of work, so they can enjoy a rendezvous at any old time that Bedalar’s chaperon is out of sight. I have a friend of high connection – one must not say whom – who is involved with his duty today, and many other days as well.’

      I thought this was more unkindness and said, ‘Perhaps you wish me to leave …’

      ‘You may go or stay as you like. I didn’t invite you to sit down.’

      It was no good sulking before this little minx. ‘I came voluntarily, yes; I now find myself unable to leave voluntarily. I am already under such a spell as it would take a dozen gentlemen of connection, drunk or sober’ – I thought I’d strike there – ‘to disperse.’

      She half-pouted, half-laughed.

      ‘How silly I shall look on the street with you running behind my carriage. And you even sillier, following rather like a carriage dog.’

      ‘I make it a rule never to run behind carriages. Let’s walk together instead. Come, we will walk in Trundles Park and see who laughs at us.’

      I rose and offered my arm. She got up – and what a movement that was! La Singla could not have managed it better – and said with exquisite seriousness, ‘And I’m supposed to pay for the chocolate consumed by all and sundry?’

      ‘Is this not your father’s establishment? Do you insult them by trying to offer them money?’

      ‘You know who I am … I don’t frequent many strata of Malacian society, so I have no notion who you are.’

      When I told her my name, I noted that it was unfamiliar to her, although in view of her poor opinion of players that was possibly as well.

      I offered my arm again. She rested four gloved fingers upon its upper surface and said, ‘You may escort me to my carriage.’

      ‘We are going to walk in the park.’

      ‘You are presumptuous if you believe I will do anything of the sort. I could not at all afford to be seen in the park with you.’

      We stood looking at each other. Close to she was startling. Hers was a face which beauty made formidable; yet there was about her mouth a kind of wistfulness which seemed to contradict the hauteur.

      ‘May I see you tomorrow, then, in whatever circumstances you prefer?’

      She adjusted her hair and the ribbons in her hair, and put on a bonnet which an assistant brought. A smile grew about her lips.

      ‘You’ll be involved in battles or canticles tomorrow, won’t you?’

      ‘Swords and holy vows alike mean nothing to me where you’re concerned. You are so beautiful, Miss Hoytola, I’ve never seen anyone like you.’

      ‘You are certainly a forward young fellow – although I don’t necessarily hold that against you. But I begin a special commission – not work of any kind, naturally – tomorrow, and so shall not be at liberty.’

      We moved towards the door, which a lackey opened, bowing low and hiding a glint of envy in his eye. We emerged into the mid-day street, almost empty as siesta took over Malacia.

      ‘What sort of commission, Miss Hoytola?’

      A frown, barely rumpling the exquisite brow. ‘That’s no concern of yours. It happens to be something to please the whim of my parents, who fancy they cannot have enough portraits of me, doting things. So I am to pose a little for a mad foreigner in our employ, one Otto Bengtsohn. He’s something of an artist in his fashion.’

      Although I had lingered to the best of my ability, we were at her equipage. The carriage shone like a crown with sun and polish: A highly groomed mare waited between the shafts. The powdered driver was opening a door for Armida. She was lifting her apricot skirts, preparing to climb in and be whisked away.

      ‘We must part here, sir. It was pleasant making your acquaintance.’

      ‘We shall meet again, I feel sure.’

      She smiled.

      The door was closed, the driver mounted behind. The whip was cracked, she waved, they were off. Stand still to act effectively; it had no application here.

      As I turned, the gallery was closing for siesta, the blinds were being drawn down. I walked slowly away.

      Of course I could not be in love.

      Strolling down the street I ran over our brief conversation in my mind. I was far too poor for her, for Armida Hoytola. Yet she had been interested. Her friend could be Bedalar, Caylus Nortolini’s sister, whom de Lambant had mentioned. If Bedalar deigned to look at a player, then her friend might also find it fashionable. Unbidden, a picture came to my mind of my marrying Armida and walking secure in the sort of society I knew I would enjoy …

      The vision passed, and I was left with her words about the commission with Bengtsohn. There lay my opportunity!

      At once I turned down the expansive Exhibition Road and into the narrow alleys behind, until I found myself again in the gloom of the Court of the Dark Eye.

      A group of men, all dingily dressed, stood in the darkest recesses of the court; there were women among them, old and young. They turned guiltily as I entered. One of them came forward, СКАЧАТЬ