The Beating of His Wings Read Online Free PDF

with much loathing and distrust as he shuffled down the aisle of the great hall, leaning on Harwood, with his left hand fiddling around near his favourite’s groin, a habit that increased in intensity whenever he was nervous. Zog’s tongue was too large for his mouth, whichmade him an appallingly messy eater according to IdrisPukke, who had in better times dined with him often. Careless of changing his clothes, you could tell what meals he had golloped in the previous seven days, said IdrisPukke, from looking closely at the front of his shirt.
    After much royal faffing about, Bose Ikard began a forty-minute address in which he set out the present situation regarding the intentions of the Redeemers, concluding that while the possibility of war was not to be discounted, there were strong reasons to believe that Swiss neutrality could be maintained. Then, like a magician producing not merely a rabbit but a giraffe out of a hat, he took a piece of paper from his inside pocket and waved it before the meeting. ‘Two days ago I met with Pope Bosco himself, just ten miles from our border, and here is a paper which bears his name upon it as well as mine.’ There was a gasp and even a single cheer of anticipation. But on the faces of Vipond and IdrisPukke there was only dismay. ‘I would like to read it to you. “We, the Pontiff of the true faithful, and Chancellor of all the Swiss by consent of the King of Switzerland, are agreed in recognizing that peace between us is of the first importance.”’ There was a loud burst of applause, some of it spontaneous. ‘“And …”’ more applause, ‘“and that we are agreed never to go to war with one another again.”’
    Cheers of high relief rang up to the roof and echoed back. ‘Hear, hear!’ someone shouted. ‘Hear, hear!’
    ‘“We are resolved that discussion and dialogue will be the means we shall use to deal with any outstanding questions that concern our two countries and to resolve all possible sources of difference in order to maintain the peace.”’
    There were hip hip hoorays for Chancellor Ikard and a chorus of ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’ all round.
    During the commotion, IdrisPukke was able to mutter in Vipond’s ear. ‘You must say something.’
    ‘Now is not the time,’ replied Vipond.
    ‘There won’t be another. Stall it.’
    Vipond stood up.
    ‘I am prepared to say without any hesitation or doubt that Pope Bosco has another paper,’ said Vipond. ‘And in this paper he sets out the general scheme for the attack on Switzerland and the destruction of its king.’
    There was the distinctive murmur of people who had heard something they didn’t care for.
    ‘We are negotiating acceptable peace terms,’ said Bose Ikard, ‘with an enemy we know to be violent and well prepared. It would be astonishing only if Pope Bosco did not have such a plan.’
    The murmur was now one of sophisticated approval: it was reassuring to have a man negotiating for peace who was such a cool realist. Such a man would not have his pocket picked by wishful thinking. Later, as the meeting came to an end and the conference filed out, mulling over what they’d heard, King Zog turned to his chancellor. Ikard was hoping, with good reason, to be complimented for dealing so skilfully with an opponent like Lord Vipond.
    ‘Who,’ said Zog, tongue aflutter in his mouth, ‘was that striking young man standing behind Vipond?’
    ‘Oh.’ A pause. ‘That was Conn Materazzi, husband of the Duchess Arbell.’
    ‘Really?’ said Zog, breathless. ‘And what kind of Materazzi is he?’ By this he meant was he one of the clan in general or of the direct line of descent from William Materazzi, known as the Conqueror or the Bastard, depending on whether he had taken your property or given it to you.
    ‘He is a direct descendent, I believe.’
    There was a wet sigh of satisfaction from Zog. From Lord Harwood there was a thunderous look of resentment. The royal favourite, who