The Educated Ape & other Wonders of the Worlds (54 page)

Leah’s
hand reached out to touch that of Lord Brentford. ‘I am afeared,’ she said to
him, ‘that a terrible evil will shortly come upon this world.’

‘Feel
just a tad uneasy myself,’ said his lordship. ‘Probably just first-night
nerves, though. All will be well, have no fear of that.’

Leah
turned her golden eyes towards the man she loved. A man born upon Earth, a man
whom the laws of Venus forbade her even so much as to touch. ‘If all is well,’
she said, ‘if we survive—‘

‘Survive,
my dear? We will survive, I assure you.

‘Then
if we do, I would ask—’ Leah paused.

Lord
Brentford smiled upon her. ‘I was waiting for a special moment,’ said he, ‘to
ask
you
something. And this moment feels rather special to me. Just the
two of us, alone, amongst all of this nothing.’

Lord
Brentford dug into a pocket. Brought out a little red box. ‘It was my
mother’s,’ he said. ‘My father gave it to her.’ He opened the box to display a
golden ring with an intricate setting that held a large and sparkling solitary
diamond.

Lord
Brentford went down upon one knee. ‘Will you marry me, Leah?’ he asked.

On
high two monkeys engaged in monkey business. Below, Leah said, ‘I will.’

Mr Ernest
Rutherford had been looking for an opportunity to pop the all-important
question to Miss Violet Wond, but of late Miss Wond had been a most elusive
creature. There had been long and unexplained absences and periods of silence
while they dined together. The chemist felt perhaps his cause was lost.

He
had been invited to the concert and official opening of the Grand Exposition
that would follow it and Miss Wond had agreed to accompany him. But the veiled
lady had not been the same since the night when she had been attacked. And Mr
Rutherford felt a great unease.

Her Majesty the
Queen was rarely given to unease. A monarch’s life did not include such
feelings. A monarch had things done for them, was flattered, pampered, praised
and shown every kindness. That was the way it should be, for a monarch.

Shortly
before three of the afternoon clock, the royal state coach, with all its rococo
golden cherubic adornments, drew up outside Buckingham Palace to receive the
royal personage and transport her halfway down the Mall to the entrance of the
Grand Exposition.

Because
if one is the monarch and one has allowed the biggest exhibition hall ever to
be built in the history of the world to be erected in one’s own front garden of
Green Park, then one should get the first look around it when it’s finished.

And
if there is anything in there that one
really really
wants …

Then
one should be given it, without any question at all.

Mr Winston
Churchill watched through field glasses as the royal state coach left the
grounds of Buckingham Palace. He watched from an airship high above, from which
he was directing operations. Before the front façade of the Grand Exposition,
soldiers of the Queen stood to attention, shoulder to shoulder the very length
of the Mall. A regiment of cavalry were quartered to the rear of the great
building. Thirty Mark 5 Juggernaut Tanks stood in Trafalgar Square, snipers
rested on rooftops, and well dug-in and all around and about anti-airship
gunners employing the very latest in back-engineered Martian death-ray
technology aimed the snouts of the terror weapons towards the skies above.

Skies
of blue without a cloud in sight.

Planet Earth
bulged big and blue in a sky of forever night. Upon the Moon in her hotel room,
Princess Pamela’s personal primper pampered the Lady Beast.

‘Lavinia!’
called the princess. ‘Where art thou, lass?’ Lavinia Dharkstorrm entered the
room in a black silk gown, with a black silk hat and a black silk corset, too.

‘Thou
art pretty as a picture,’ quoth the Lady Beast. ‘All dressed up for a
coronation, yes?’

Lavinia
Dharkstorrm nodded and attended to details of dress.

‘Art
thou strong with spells today?’ the princess asked of her.

Lavinia
Dharkstorrm nodded once again. Princess Pamela glanced towards the ormolu
mantel clock. ‘Our transportation will be ‘ere shortly,’ she said.

‘Private
space yacht?’ asked Lavinia Dharkstorrm. Princess Pamela laughed at this.
‘Somewhat more than
that.
A new Queen ‘as to make a royal entrance. But
‘appen, she said, and she pointed to the window, ‘ ‘ere comes transport now.

From
out of the darkness of the sky something large appeared. Something more than
large, indeed, for now as it approached the Moon it threw the planet Earth into
eclipse.

Down
it drifted, huge and untoward and very pink. Princess Pamela clapped her hands
as onto the Sea of Tranquillity settled her floating palace from Mars.

52

ueen
Victoria thought it grand to be at the Grand Exposition and was most amused by
almost everything she saw. She greatly admired the animated elephant and the
Czar of Russia’s automated egg. She considered the clockwork minstrels
particularly harmonious and the hardy hat from Harrods a worthy thing indeed.

When
it came to the diamond from Russia that was easily the size of a music hall
entertainer’s head, she all but squealed with delight. She was not, however,
at all taken with the suit sewn from one hundred miles of string. This left her
singularly unamused.

Lord
Brentford drew her attention to Mr Rutherford’s time-ship, which stood with its
ports wide open to display its inner gubbinry.

‘Ma’am,’
said he, bowing low to the monarch. ‘This craft bears testimony to the genius
of your subjects and it is hoped will bring everlasting peace between the
planets. For, I am sure you will agree, the Empire that is the master of time
must surely become the master of all.’

Leah
was not present to hear this remark, but Lord Brent-ford had phrased it in such
a way purely to please the Queen.

‘What
is it that one sniffs?’ enquired Her Majesty. ‘Does one smell Jovian hotpot?’

The
party processed to the Jovian food hall for tea.

All over London,
in swank hotels and the houses of the wealthy, folk were preparing themselves.
Folk of substance. Off-world princes. Senior ecclesiastics of the Venusian high
elite. Burghers and barons of Jupiter. Lords and ladies of the British Empire.
Members of Parliament. Famous writers and musicians, artists and actors. The
great and the good. The high and the mighty. The Laird of Dunoon and some of
the clergy, too.

Never
before had so many high-born and influential people gathered together in a
single place. There would be at least five hundred Venusians attending the
opening concert, plus as many Jovians and some two thousand humans.

The
owners of the banking houses of all worlds would be present. Admirals and
generals and the wing commander of the Aerial Armed Forces. Representatives of
every royal household. The cream of high society. The very pride of the
planets.

The
hoi polloi could wait until the morrow.

Tonight,
the Grand Exposition belonged to the favoured few.

At six o’clock,
Queen Victoria, sagging somewhat from a surfeit of Jovian cuisine, was returned
to her royal state coach and in that to the palace.

‘Time
marches on,’ said Lord Brentford to Darwin. ‘I think we should take an early
supper and return at eight to welcome in the guests.’

Darwin
nodded in agreement to this.

‘So
you will now have to stop doing what you have been doing all afternoon to that
lady monkey.’

Darwin
nodded once again. But now with far less enthusiasm.

Arturo Toscanini
was never less than enthusiastic, and as he bathed in the large marble bathtub
in his swanky room at the Ritz, in the company of two lady viola players, he
felt convinced that tonight would be the triumph of his career. It certainly
had to be a triumph of split-second timing, that was indisputable, because he
had been told in no uncertain terms by no lesser personage than the Prime
Minister of England that the symphony must conclude upon the very stroke of
midnight, when every church bell in every tower in the land would chime in the
coming century.

But
he could do that. For after all, was he not the greatest conductor in the
world? Indeed, in this world
and
the others! He would conduct some of
the finest music ever composed before an audience the like of which had never
before been brought together.

The
musicians were ready. He was ready. Tonight would be a truly religious
experience.

Chapter
Thirteen, verse one of the Book of Revelation speaks of the Beast that will
rise up from the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon the horns ten
crowns, and upon the heads the name of blasphemy. What much of that means is
naturally open to interpretation, but what is definitely certain is that there
is
a Beast and it
does
rise up from the sea.

As
Princess Pamela’s palace rose from the Sea of Tranquillity, it did at least
fulfil this particular piece of biblical prophecy.

‘Set
a course for Earth, Mister Mate,’ said the princess in pink, upon high in the
wheelhouse. ‘Take us to t’ Grand Exposition.’

‘Aye
aye, Cap’n,’ replied Mister Mate. ‘We’ll have you there before the stroke of
midnight.’

Lavinia
Dharkstorrm paced about the bridge.

‘Be
still, lass,’ said the Lady Beast. ‘Thou drivest me to the foot of our stairs.
Whatever the ‘eck that meaneth.’

‘I am
eager that we be done with them all,’ said Lavinia Dharkstorrm. ‘My sister,
that detective, all of them.’

‘Not
too keen on me
own
sister.’ Princess Pamela made a sour face. ‘Mark my
words, I’ll ‘ave ‘er ‘ead upon a platter by morning.’

Mister
Mate said, ‘Madam, might I speak?’

‘As
thou wish,’ said the princess.

‘I
just have a question regarding my status,’ said Mister Mate.

Princess
Pamela shrugged. ‘Go on,’ said she.

‘As a
“Mister Mate”, would I be regarded as a minion rather than a henchman?’

‘I
carest nowt,’ said the princess in pink. ‘What of it?’

‘You
see Herbert here?’ Mister Mate gestured towards Herbert, who fluttered his
fingers at Princess Pamela and Lavinia Dharkstorrm. ‘Herbert is the cabin boy.
So lowly a fellow, in fact, that had I not drawn your attention to his
presence, you probably would not even have noticed him.’

‘‘Appen
not,’ said Princess Pamela. Lavinia Dharkstorrm shrugged.

‘But
I am several places up from him in the pecking order,’ said Mister Mate. ‘I
have a special Mister Mate’s Certificate.’

‘Wouldn’t
‘ave ‘ired thee otherwise.’ Princess Pamela folded her arms.

‘So I
think I should be classified as a henchman.’

Lavinia
Dharkstorrm shook her head. ‘Your duties are not those of a henchman,’ she
said. ‘Have you ever engaged in cold-blooded murder, the propagation of mayhem,
the defilement of the innocent—’

‘The
needless slaughter of small woodland creatures, ‘Princess Pamela suggested.

‘Never,’
said Mister Mate. ‘But I am anxious to give my all in such evil endeavours.’

‘If I
might interject,’ said Herbert, ‘the
Oxford English Dictionary
defines a
henchman as a faithful attendant or supporter. I suspect that you hanker more
towards becoming a recidivist or scapegrace. Or indeed a tergiversant or
malefactor.’

‘If I
kill the cabin boy now and serve him up for dinner,’ said Mister Mate, ‘can I
be raised in status to henchman?’

‘I’ll
give thee the loan o’ me axe,’ said the princess. ‘And if thou doest well, I’ll
make thee Prime Minister of England tomorrow.’