I didn't like the sound of this compliment equally loaded, I felt, with
threat and promise. Was there also a hint at the possibility that we
were to graduate from vicarious cannibalism in effigy? Could I be
engaged in a process that would lead to my being tricked into eating
human flesh, for which this ersatz Balmoral ordeal was a mere
prelude? I had already weakened to the point that I had demonstrated
that I would eat comestibles whose origins were a mystery to me, and
for that I had only my appetite to blame. How could I have held back
at that moment? I had been fasting from the outset of my mission. A
gin and tonic and a mouthful of durian ice-cream were all that had
passed my lips for days. My attempts to gorge on smoked
capercailley had been thwarted, the forced ingestion of some scraps
of salmon did not merit even a listing as cocktail food. And now I was
being called upon to eat a queen-empress and her consort in
apparently living scale models without the goad of appetite.
'I think I've had quite enough for the moment, if you don't mind,' I
ventured, 'besides I'm really not suitably dressed for such an honour.'
even as I spoke I realised that I would not be able to side step this
dubious honour, for had I not eaten the brilliant little princess in her
summer frock, all in one mouthful complete with her hoop and stick -
and very good she was too.
'Take these,' said the engineer politely as he handed me some quick
bamboos of flattened, silvery appearance, 'they are our Excalibur
model, swift and deft, even a novice could handle jellyfish salad with
them.'
'Dither! Dither! Dither!' put in the MarkVI, 'if there is anything worse
than sausages without mustard, it has to be dithering. I would ask my
prime minister to pass an act against it, if he were here.'
'I'm not dithering,' I had the temerity to reply, 'I'm being solemn. It's
not every day I'm so honoured.'
For ikizukuri enthusiasts this had to be a supreme moment. The two
most tempting morsels of the feast stood with their backs to the
ruined castle, roofless like a ravaged pie, emptied to the last footman
by the lancing sticks of the diners, bravely awaiting their fate. I knew
that I was projecting onto them feelings that they did not, could not,
have. That, whatever they were, they were not sentient human
beings, and yet to eat as a symbol is, on some level, to eat in reality.
My Excaliburs flashed above the mensal plane. The royal couple
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