Mention My Name in Atlantis Page 7

  "I have had a bellyful of these pretty, perfumed posturings! You doubt I'm a king. I suppose you'll also doubt that I saw those selfsame lights in the sky which your milksop minions insist on denying."

  At this, Geriasticus trembled.

  "Also, you ivory-jawed hound of hell, one of those lighted specters descended to the sea where I and my reavers sailed in search of plunder. Instantly, through scarifying sorcery, it transformed itself into some species of ocean-going sea monster with luminous orbs. At the height of the storm which destroyed my proud vessel, it sailed off in plain view of every last drowning lad. Let any who dares call Conax a lynx-tongued liar step forward!"

  "Hear, hear!" Babylos clapped. "At last, the fresh air of truth blows through this fetid domain!"

  The cheeks and wattles of Geriasticus X had now changed from their normal waxy color to a mild pink—sign of great rage in one so enfeebled! Entirely forgetting his rank, the king tottered toward Conax. I immediately sensed a heating-up of the atmosphere, which I had been attempting to cool down with flattering remarks.

  Heedless of the oaths and commands of the soldiers, I lost no time rushing to Conax myself. (Geriasticus was still in the process of inching his way across the floor!) I bent, catching a whiff of Conax's fur cloak—gamy, I don't mind telling you!

  "Try to cool your rage," I whispered. "Otherwise you'll incur his full fury. You saw no lights!"

  "By hell's maw, I did! Get away from me, you overweight bootlicker!"

  "But Conax, it's a matter of survival—!"

  Geriasticus pointed at the barbarian with a palsied hand.

  "Recant! No omens glowed in our skies! Your eyes never beheld a single—"

  "I won't be called a liar one more time!" And, seizing the nearest object—myself!—Conax picked it up and hurled it directly at the king!

  Ah, how the gods frowned then! For in crashing into Geriasticus X—the ultimate affront upon his person!—somehow I managed to dislodge his ivory uppers. They went skittering and clacking across the throne room floor with an unnatural liveliness quite bizarre to behold.

  The king and I toppled in a heap. With unbridled passion, Conax began grasping other objects—soldiers, courtiers, furniture, page boys, even Captain Num!—and hurling them in all directions, while he invoked Crok at the top of his lungs.

  Aphrodisia screamed, Babylos cheered, courtiers fled, General Pytho swore, Captain Num fainted, and soldiers by the platoon leaped upon Conax and tried to subdue him. I last saw him going down under at least fifteen attackers, still punching and biting gamely.

  I knew he'd caused the worst to happen when Geriasticus cried out:

  "No civil sentences! No court appearances! Positively no appeals! Nothing but execution—execution—!"

  "Your wish," purred General Pytho, "is my command."

  So saying, he attacked me, and pummeled me unmercifully. Consciousness, as well as all hope, promptly faded away.

  * Six *

  O the wailing from Aphrodisia, when I woke with a throbbing pate to find myself in the selfsame dungeon from which I had journeyed to the throne room.

  O the threats of physical harm from hot-tempered Conax!

  O the lamentations of Babylos, certain now that the flashing heaven lights—not to mention their denial by the court!—signified dire times ahead.

  I must confess that I shared his conviction. On the other hand, I wondered whether I really needed to worry. When one's head is to be lopped off, what matter the calamities of next week?

  Stumbling up from my dizzy awakening—by night or day, who could tell in these foul cellars?—I found myself ringed by my fellow prisoners, all crying their various accusations.

  Aphrodisia was the most direct of the lot.

  "Basically, Hoptor, the fact that we're—(sniffle)—still here in this offal-smelling place is—(snuffle) your fault. So what are you going to (sob) do about it?"

  A bit irritably, I advised her that I was first going to attempt to control my vertigo; second, soothe the pulsations in my limbs and temples by remaining as inactive as possible; and third, try to arrange with Menos to bring me something other than swill to fill my stomach.

  "Still thinking of no one but yourself, eh?" With this, Conax gripped my throat and throttled me.

  I waved my hands and rolled my eyes—my voice box would produce little more than gargles!—and, for once, Aphrodisia displayed a measure of sense.

  "Really, Conax, for a supposed monarch, your behavior is disgraceful. How can Hoptor tell us what he plans when you're choking him to death?"

  Conax digested this—applying pressure the while!—but then, with a grumble, released me. Massaging my throat to assuage the pain, I glowered at the Chimerical warrior.

  "Did you honestly believe I would procure decent rations for myself and not share them with my cell companions?"

  "Knowing you, very likely," said Conax, ever the cynic.

  "That shows you how much you know about my character! Just rattle the bars, will you? Ask them to fetch me Menos straightaway. Though I'm in extreme pain due to bodily abuse, I intend to waste no time executing my plan to save us."

  Aphrodisia said, "If it involves selling, renting, or otherwise trading on my body, Hoptor—"

  "Fair warning!" I interrupted, a pacifying hand in the air. "Happily, it does not. Only I shall suffer personal debasement—in order to secure freedom and pardon for all!"

  This statement was greeted with skeptical expressions. I chose to ignore them. Since no one had yet responded to my instructions to summon Menos, I took care of the job myself, screaming, gibbering, and otherwise behaving in a lunatic manner. That got action, I don't mind saying!

  "Hoptor, Hoptor! Are you suffering a spasm? Is this your final extremity?"

  Jumping up from the floor, I said, "Not a bit of it, Menos. That was merely my strategy for attracting your attention. Tell me at once—how long have we got?"

  "Until I can scrape a death squad together. Tomorrow at the outside."

  "Is it night or morning now?"

  "'Tis the morning after your audience." At that, my aches ached worse than before; truly I had suffered hard blows, to remain unconscious such a long time!

  Old leek-breath looked the very picture of a nervous man burdened with an unwelcome responsibility.

  "I'd do anything within reason for you, Hoptor. But there is absolutely no means by which I can reverse the sentence of His Exaltedness. I can only delay it until sunrise, or, if I report my most experienced executioners suffering from an unexpected outbreak of flux, noon. Geriasticus does appreciate that a beheading calls for skill. None of that clumsy chopping and hacking! The blow must be powerful and clean, neatly severing—oh, sorry."

  "We must be out of here by the morrow, Menos!"

  "I wish I could help. But as I say, there's no way. Even your many debtors are powerless."

  "Perhaps. But with my intimate knowledge of palace affairs, not to mention my keen awareness of the private pleasures—lusts!—of members of the court, I believe I know the one person who might be able to wind the king around her finger, and commute our sentence."

  An expression of startlement appeared on his face. "You don't mean the queen?"

  "Who else? Now, Menos, heed me well—"

  I lowered my voice, conscious of the inquisitive stares of my cell-mates; especially the Chimerical king. He was busy cracking his knuckles loudly, and piercing me with optical daggers.

  "In repayment for that favor we've discussed previously, I want you to get a message to Lady Voluptua."

  "Any message must pass through that warthog who is in charge of her ladies."

  "How you circumvent gross Swinnia is your problem. The message to be conveyed to the queen must be delivered exactly as I state it. In addition, it must be delivered today." At that he blinked his good eye and shook his head.

  "It's not as impossible as staying your beheading. But I'm still not certain I can—"

  "If you don't," I return
ed, "I shall inform various guards down here of the anecdote of the pickle-shaped birthmark, to which I have thus far only alluded in veiled terms. By sunup, it will be the talk of every gossip-monger in Atlantis."

  "Then my children will hear it! And my grandchildren! Nieces! Nephews!"

  "The decision is strictly up to you, Menos."

  Miserably, he agreed to do his best. Then he asked for the message.

  "Merely make certain Lady Voluptua knows that Hoptor the Vintner seeks an audience, in order to inform her about a certain gentleman who has the physical prowess to increase her personal pleasure. Those are the key words, Menos—increase her personal pleasure."

  "But what does it signify, Hoptor?"

  "Given Geriasticus, our king, and given Lady Voluptua—a mere fraction of his age, with notorious appetites—if you cannot decipher what it means, then I can only say you will never rise to an executive position in the dungeon corps, for you are not a keen thinker. Believe me, the phrase is common palace parlance. It will reverberate within Lady Voluptua's mind like a struck gong. But let's not stand here chattering, when you could be about your mission. Away with you! And see that you bring an answer promptly!"

  Grumbling, Menos took himself off up the corridor. My secretive smile, coupled with my absolute refusal to divulge anything about my plan—in case it failed!—granted me a welcome respite from the abuse of my fellow prisoners.

  Menos returned after nightfall, bearing a lantern and shaking his head in amazement. As he unlocked the cell, he said:

  "I am to escort you personally to the female wing of the palace."

  "See, didn't I tell you? Merely mentioning my name in the right quarter has unleashed the engine of our salvation. Aphrodisia— Conax—you can stop worrying. Hoptor has come through again!"

  Gathering my cloak around me, I marched out of the cell.

  Menos, two soldiers, and I climbed stairs, then crossed a windswept yard where lanterns bobbed in the dark. Overhead, lightning flickered behind ebony clouds.

  "I've been pondering your scheme," Menos said. "I can only conclude that you mean to play the pim—ah, offer Lady Voluptua a lover."

  "Brilliant, brilliant! May we hurry and escape this fearful wind?"

  "But exactly who do you have in mind? Yourself?"

  "Enough conversation, Menos! I don't mean to grow hoarse shouting in this gale."

  So saying, I preceded him rapidly up a circular stair through whose slit windows lightning glared again.

  At the top of the stair, Menos ordered his soldiers to halt. We were to go the rest of the way alone.

  Proceeding, the two of us passed through ornate doors blazoned with reprehensible representations of males and females disporting together. The motifs had been designed by Lady Voluptua, and rendered by a sculptor of depraved appetites; according to the popular accounts, anyway. No wonder Babylos railed against royal immorality!

  We entered a dim, scented corridor where oil-wicks swam in ceramic bowls. From behind veiled doorways drifted the giggles of courtesans. Here and there too, I glimpsed a tempting haunch, or bosom, as various handmaids fleeted on mysterious, and probably illicit, errands.

  As we approached yet another set of doors—these guarded by two immense eunuchs in loincloths—Menos grew visibly uneasy. I pressed him as to why.

  "I am not entirely positive that Swinnia understood my message correctly, Hoptor. I believe she did, but I can't guarantee—"

  Before he could say more, one of the eunuchs shrilled, "Who approaches the queen's virgin portals?"

  "Hoptor the Vintner! I'm scheduled for an audience."

  Both eunuchs sniffed, as if to show their contempt for rutting males. One said, "Yes, you're expected."

  And with a swish of his wrist he flung one door open.

  Leaving Menos to fend for himself, I entered a lavishly appointed chamber where tiny thrushes perched in cages, cushions covered the polished floor, and sweetmeats and wine waited on a taboret of gold. Alas, on an oversize cushion alongside this taboret, Swinnia awaited also.

  "I beg your pardon," I said smoothly. "I was expecting Her Exaltedness—"

  "So you're Hoptor the Vintner! You clever rascal! I've wanted to meet you for ever so long. And now, at last, it's come to pass. I hear you're a lively lover. At least the street gossip says so. Well, let's not waste time—"

  And the obese horror began to waddle in my direction!

  Swinnia's diaphanous gown not only revealed her most personal charms, but the immensity of her weight problem as well. The gown—of bridal pink!—could do nothing to conceal her moustache, however.

  She patted my stomach—too fondly for my taste! Then she simpered:

  "I'll wager you think that because I own the queen's ear, Hoptor, you can gain an advantage through me. Why, I'll bet you're hoping I will put in a word to help you earn a reprieve."

  She simpered even more, while I stood utterly dumbfounded. I wished I had blundering Menos at hand. To murder. How had this unhappy twist of fate occurred?

  "—Well, perhaps, after you spend an hour or two with me—after I discover whether you're as lively between the bedsheets as they say—perhaps then I might consider your cause. But not before, you sly fox!"

  Another simper—O nauseating coyness! It was all I could do to reply, "I believe there has been some mistake, dear Swinnia—"

  Ignoring the remark, she pinched me playfully.

  "I hear you sell girls to noblemen! No wonder your passion is constantly running away with you. I'm not even in that type of trade, and my thoughts are always dwelling on—but never mind. I received your message. Not personally—I was taking my milk bath when it arrived. But one of my handmaidens interviewed old one-eye. I shouldn't admit it, but I was thrilled to learn that you wanted to come here tonight, and increase my personal pleasure. Naturally I understood that phrase, you dear thing—!"

  And thereupon she grabbed me, and bore me to the cushions, kissing my cheeks and feverishly tampering with my garments!

  To be honest, I doubted that anyone had increased Swinnia's personal pleasure in years. She was therefore wildly impatient. From my position beneath her sizable bulk, I exclaimed:

  "Couldn't we sip a little wine first?"

  "Later!" she gasped. "Later, you wicked boy—"

  "Wait, wait! You must understand—"

  "I understand everything, including the depths of your passion!"

  "Yes," I squeaked, "passion—those are certainly a pair of beauties standing guard outside your doors."

  That, mercifully, halted her fumblings. She reared up on hands and knees.

  "The eunuchs?"

  "Who else? I've never seen a more fetching twosome!"

  "You—you—you prefer gentlemen?"

  "Oh, yes, I have for years. Sad to say, I'm a confirmed eunuch-lover—to the despair of my parents, and lovely ladies like yourself who wish their personal pleasure increased."

  What a dreadful falsehood to be wrung from the lips of Hoptor the Vintner! Yet it was either that, or possible death by exhaustion in the arms of this moustached behemoth.

  Blowing a lock of hair from her eyes, Swinnia lumbered to her feet. She seized the platter of sweetmeats, dumping its contents on my head.

  "Then go importune the guards, if that's your perverse preference!"

  "One moment, my lady! You may heap abuse on me—not to mention edibles!—but I did wish to speak with your mistress, the queen."

  "Out, out!" ordered Swinnia, quivering over every inch of her; indeed, her flesh was very nearly as active as Conax's, though not nearly so firm.

  Immense tears began to drip from her eyes, muddling her cheek-paint as she continued:

  "I've never been so outraged and demeaned in my life! The sooner they lop off your unnatural head, the better!"

  Ah, Menos, wait till you're once more in my presence! I raged in silence, all the while maneuvering around Swinnia in a desperate attempt to keep from being shoved out.

  O, her fu
ry! She threw the wine jar. It smashed, making a mess of the cushions. She was searching for something else to throw when, without warning, hangings on the room's far side were parted by a bangled arm.

  "What is this noise that breaks our slumber?" Lady Voluptua demanded, hiding a yawn behind her hand.

  "Merely a personal matter," Swinnia told her. "Out, Vintner, out—!"

  Lady Voluptua blinked. "Who is that fat tradesman you're menacing, Swinnia?"

  "None other than Hoptor the Vintner," I cried, abasing myself and knocking my forehead vigorously. "Come to seek private conversation with Your Exaltedness."

  "The message was delivered to me by mistake." said Swinnia, casting vengeful glances at me. "However, it contained nothing of interest."

  "Merely information on a new means for increasing your personal pleasure," I exclaimed.

  "My personal—?" All at once she was wide awake. "Pleasure?"

  Swinnia was wrath personified. "Don't listen to him, my lady! He has already confirmed that, because of his peculiar tastes, he couldn't increase the personal pleasure of a female fig!"

  Now I seized the moment, heedless of Swinnia's glowers—for what harm could she do me if my head were severed from my body? I crawled toward the hem of Lady Voluptua's gown—straight through a wine-puddle, that being the fastest route—saying the while:

  "The means of increasing Your Exaltedness' personal pleasure is not this humble person—oh no! It's another gentleman entirely. One with whom I don't believe you're acquainted. I sought an appointment to tell you about him. Through a chance misunderstanding, this worthy lady interpreted the message as meant for her."

  "Someone new? For dalliance? Well—"

  For a moment, Voluptua's bored look told me I had failed. Swinnia registered smug pleasure.

  Then, however, a sort of superheated smile curled up the corners of the queen's mouth. She stretched in a maddeningly seductive way; she was raven-haired, and of staggeringly lush proportions. She wore a night dress which, by comparison, made Swinnia's seem a model of modesty.

  She said, "It might be worth a moment or two of our time—"

  "Oh, more than that, Your Exaltedness, I can promise"