Roquana
by
Robin Gordon
Auksford
2013
©
Copyright Robin Gordon, 2013
Auksford
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I: Savark Court
***
Chapter
2: Lord Savark's household
Roquana Smuff
(Unknown)
The road to Savark Court was long and Roquana was sleepy, but not too
sleepy to be impressed by the magnificent gateway that led into the
park: tall columns topped by mythical creatures, a wide entrance
between them, with crimson gates topped with gold spikes, wide enough
for two carriages to pass each other, pedestrian gates to the sides,
and then a pair of handsome lodges.
The road then led through an extensive
park, with
specimen trees dotted here and there in artistically arranged copses,
and then, through gardens of bright flowers, towards a splendid
chateau, with towers and turrets, gables, battlements, verandas,
terraces, pillars and columns, arches both Romanesque and Gothic, and
indeed every fanciful form of architectural ornament that had ever been
known on Humanity’s home planet, the long-lost, and ever
lamented, Earth.
The carriage swung away from the main
front door and
continued round the side of the house before swinging under a massive
archway in the Gothic style and into a courtyard surrounded by
two-storeyed buildings, with cloisters on both floors. Fat
pharaonic pillars on the ground floor, ornamented in Egyptian style
with carved lotus blossoms, supported a balcony enclosed by light
cast-iron arches, ornamented with tracery and sporting above each arch
a gargoyle: heads of elephants, baboons, eagles and totally fanciful
beasts. Impressive, I thought, but not in the best of taste.
The Housekeeper bustled Roquana out of
the carriage
and called a boy to carry her luggage, then, as the carriage turned out
of the courtyard, she led us into the colonnade and through a corridor
to her office. There she outlined to Roquana the nature of
her
duties before calling in a girl of about Roquana’s own age,
whom
she introduced as Franette.
Franette (Helen
George, actress)
“Franette will be your
housemother,” she
explained to Roquana. “She will guide you and tell
you
about the house routine, and for your first week here you will go with
her and perform your duties under her guidance. Now she will
show
you to your room, and you will find your belongings already
there.”
Franette showed Roquana her bedroom,
quite small and
plain, not unlike the one she had at home. She told her that
her
own room was further along the corridor, and that she would make sure
she was up, breakfasted and ready for work next morning. She
took
her along to the maids’ dining room and introduced her to her
fellow workers, then, parting from her at night, told her not to lock
her door.
“The Chatelaine
doesn’t like locked
doors at all,” she said. “She feels it
shows a lack
of trust in the rest of the household, so, though there are locks on
all the doors, they are never used.”
Roquana nodded. “I
wouldn’t lock
doors at home,” she said, “and this is my home
now.”
“That’s the
spirit,” said
Franette. “Oh, by the way, you’ll
sometimes hear a
lot of noise from the boys’ side of the house, they do get
quite
riotous sometimes, especially when they have a new boy.
They’re quite different from girls, and I’ve heard
that
have all sorts of initiation ordeals. Anyway,
that’s all
their affair. It gets very loud sometimes, but you
needn’t
worry: their part of the house is completely separate and the only door
between is kept firmly locked at night. The Chatelaine
wouldn’t want boys and girls to get up to any sort of
naughtiness, would she?”
“Of course not,”
said Roquana.
“Goodnight then.”
“Goodnight.”
Franette was right about the boys and
the
noise. Roquana couldn’t sleep at all: she could
hear them
shouting and cheering, and from time to time a thunderous crashing of
running feet. Then she thought she heard someone in the
corridor
outside, the rattle of door handles and loud roars in the
distance. Suddenly her door was flung open and someone darted
inside, slammed it shut and locked it.
Startled, Roquana immediately flicked on
the
light. The newcomer turned, shocked. Despite
Franette’s assurances, it was a boy, a young man of about
Roquana’s own age or perhaps a year or two older.
His mouth
dropped open, he uttered an inarticulate sound, midway between a gasp
and a groan, and clasped his hands to his groin.
He was trouserless.
“Sorry,” he
spluttered. “I
… didn’t know there was any one here
… I
didn’t know I was in … in the girls’
area. I
… I … I’d better go
…”
He fumbled with the key, with one hand
holding down
his shirt-tail, got the door unlocked and was turning the handle when
there came renewed uproar. It sounded as if it came from the
corridor outside.
The boy kept the door closed, leaning
against it.
“Wait,” said
Roquana. “Lock
it again.”
The boy did so.
“What’s
happened?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing
really,” he said, looking
over his shoulder at her, keeping his front pressed to the door and
holding down his shirt, back and front.
“I’m new
here, and it was just my initiation. I’m sorry to
appear
before a lady without my trousers, but the lads took them off
me.
I suppose I must be a bit of a coward. I ran away from
them. I don’t suppose they’d really have
done any of
the things they said.”
“What sort of
things?”
“I couldn’t say in
front of a
lady. I’m sorry. I’ll
go.”
“No,” said
Roquana. “Stay
here until they’ve gone. When the noise has stopped
you can
slip away.”
“You can’t mean
it,” he
stuttered. “What would the League of Purity say if
I stayed
in your room after dark – especially without my
trousers.”
“Here” said Roquana,
pulling off one of
her blankets and holding it out. “Wrap yourself in
this. You can sit in the chair there, and I’ll stay
here in
bed. We know we haven’t done anything
wrong. The
worst they can do is dismiss us, and I wouldn’t mind that at
all. I’m new here too, and I’d much
rather have
stayed at home with my mother.”
The boy stayed. They talked
long into the
night, telling each other their histories.
The boy’s name was
Tommuz. He came from
Gollerley, where he had lived with his widowed mother until Gulls and
Madame LaTower had invited him to join Lord Savark’s
household
staff – an invitation that he and his mother knew could not
be
refused, though, like Roquana, he had not wanted to leave home.
Tommuz (Jonathan
Bailey, actor)
So they talked, until, eventually, they
became aware
that all the noise had stopped and the corridors were quiet.
“I’d better
go,” said
Tommuz. “I hope I’ll see you
again.”
“I hope so too,”
said Roquana.
Tommuz got up carefully from his chair,
keeping his
back turned to Roquana until he had his shirt-tails carefully arranged
and held down to conceal those parts that a young man ought not to
display to a young lady he has only just met.
“Goodbye, then,” he
said, and held out
his free hand. Roquana touched it lightly, and instantly I
felt
her thrill as the electricity passed between them. Tommuz
felt it
too and turned away quickly.
“See you tomorrow, I
hope,” he said, and
slipped out of the door.
Roquana sighed and settled down to sleep.
The following day Mrs Broyn sent her to
be
interviewed by the Chatelaine, which Roquana found a daunting prospect,
for, though at her initial interview at home the Chatelaine had hardly
spoken, leaving the conduct of the interview entirely to the
voluble Monsignor Gulls, she had exuded a formidable presence, so that
Roquana and Mrs Smuff had no need of the Secretary’s encomium
to
realise that Madame LaTower was a person of considerable importance
and, more importantly, strength of character, whom it would be unwise
ever to cross.
Madame La Tower,
Chatelaine
(Sian Phillips, actress)
The Chatelaine welcomed Roquana to her
large and
imposing office with cold formality.
“You are doubtless
aware,” she said,
“or if you are not aware it would certainly be surprising,
that
His Lordship is not only, as is most right and proper given his role in
the exploration and development of Sunday, one of the richest and most
influential men on the planet but also, and I cannot stress this too
strongly, the President of the League of Purity, which is devoted
entirely to the maintenance of chastity among our young people and the
avoidance on Sunday of the sort of sexual free-for-all that pertains in
some newly colonised worlds.
“This being so it is of vital
importance that
His Lordship’s household maintain an unsullied reputation for
purity, chastity and devotion to the dogmas of the League, you
understand me?”
“Yes,” Roquana
quavered.
“It will therefore come as no
surprise to you
if I ask you, formally as Chatelaine of His Lordship’s
household
and therefore as His Lordship’s personal representative,
whether
you are a virgin.”
“Yes,” said Roquana.
“Do you mean by yes
that you are
a virgin, that you agree
that it will come as no
surprise if I ask you, or that you disagree
and are indicating that it will
come as a surprise?”
“Erm … “
said Roquana, “I
mean … yes I am a virgin.”
“And you have had no man in
your bed?”
“Of course not.”
“If you tell lies you must
expect the truth
eventually to be exposed. I will ask you once more: have you
slept with any man or boy, have you allowed any male to deflower you,
or are you still virgo
intacta.
“I am a virgin,
Madame,” said
Roquana. “I do not lie. If you
don’t believe
me, why don’t you send me home?”
“You have heard of the
Inquisition, of
course,” said Madame LaTower. “Suppose
his Lordship,
at my request, were to ask his intimate friend the Grand Inquisitor of
Sunday to instruct an Inquisitor to penetrate your mind and discover
whether or not you have told the truth.”
“I have told the
truth,” said
Roquana. “You may ask an Inquisitor to examine my
mind if
you like. I have nothing to hide.”
Suddenly the Chatelaine smiled
– a frosty
smile, but nevertheless a smile. “I am pleased with
you,
child,” she said. “You have answered
well. I
shall comfirm your assignment to Mrs Broyn’s staff and you
will
have the opportunity of waiting on the great ones of Sunday next time
they gather here at Savark Court.”
Franette was waiting for Roquana outside.
“How did it go?” she
asked.
“Horrible,” said
Roquana.
“She kept on asking if I was a virgin, almost as if she
believed
I wasn’t.”
“But you stuck to your
guns.”
“Of course. Anyway
she sort-of smiled at
the end and said she was pleased, so I’m on Mrs
Broyn’s
staff with you.”
“Good-oh,” said
Franette.
“You’ll like Mrs Broyn. She’s
nearly like a
mother to her girls, but as for Madame LaTower, well you might as well
talk to an iceberg. We all think she’s ghastly, but
don’t let anyone else hear you say so. Anyway, on
Mrs
Broyn’s staff you get plenty of time off, so you can go and
meet
your boyfriend for a walk in the garden … if
you’ve got
one, of course.” Here she tittered girlishly.
Roquana thought it meant that Franette
had a
boyfriend and said nothing. As for me, I was still seething
at
the Chatelaine’s suggestion that Lord Savark could demand an
Inquisitor to investigate a particular, chosen person just by asking
his intimate friend the Grand Inquisitor – and if you had
ever
heard the Grand Panjandrum’s opinion of Lord Savark,
expressed
only inside the department and to trusted and dependable Inquisitors,
you wouldn’t be taken in for a moment by that
claim of intimate friendship.