Victoria and the Flash

Victoria and the flash
by Mark Campbell



1. the house



"Your Majesty, have you buttoned up your tunic correctly?"
"Oh no, I'm sorry, I haven't"

Mary the servant took a long, foreboding look at Victoria Dennett. This mouse of a girl would be a Queen, an object of worship on earth like a God striding amongst their creation, and she couldn't button a tunic correctly. Mary, an older woman long in the service of the imperial court, a genuine believer in the power and the majesty of the family, would have even accepted being dominated by this girl in turn for speaking out of place

"Her majesty meant to button her tunic incorrectly!"

That, Mary would have understood. Mary had wiped the royal backsides, seen them as vulnerable infants and flawed humans. She would have at least understood a young princess that did not want to be castigated by someone as lowly as she was. This girl gave her genuine concern. To rule over another, many others, was a mystery. The crowns were a mystery, a most high and holy mystery and Mary simply felt in her guts as she inspected this girl up and down that her reign would be difficult for her first and for her people second.

"Your majesty..." Mary started, meaning to go on to say that she had failed her and that her future troubles were her fault.
"Yes Mary?"
"I would like you to remember that your father is a very important man, a king of kings if you pardon my politics, he will not have time for any indulgences"

The dressing was complete. Victoria wore the tunic and trousers of a young Naval admiral, an adventurer and explorer. The tunic was blood red to indicate amongst her fellow sailors that she was royalty. Her trousers were silk white with long leather boots up to the shins. Mary had fastened the imperial sword and holster, as she had done for so many other princes and princesses of the royal line. Victoria coddled the blade with her hands, trying to get it to sit correctly.

"Now don't fuss over the dressing miss. You are ready to take your carriage and see his majesty. I will inform your mother"
"Yes, inform my mother Mary"

Mary stepped backward eyeing Victoria and tilting her head slightly as she did, sizing the young princess up. She turned and went out the door to the drawing room. When she left Victoria let out a sigh, able to breathe all at once. She felt the tight fit of the tunic and trousers, the weight of her long hair in its ponytail and the sword against her right leg.

This was a family home, an estate granted to one of the Kings concubines. There were hundreds of these estates dotted throughout the land. Since the reformation King Henry had been the first of the great kings to sire his progeny in this way, many children, all to inherit a piece of the empire. The real royal line would remain untainted by common blood of course, she had no hope of ruling the home nation, but since the scandal of King Lars the hunchback, a product of marrying in house, the line was spread as far and as wide as the doctors could possibly recommend as in line with the new science. This meant every pretty girl within a hundred miles of the King was an incubator to his seed, this meant Victoria's mother. As she looked around the room she drew a small smile thinking about just how exhausting the King's young life must have been.

Victoria's mother Anna came into the room. She wore her typical lost eyes, as if a certain fire had gone out long ago and all that remained was time to play out.

"Your majesty"

Anna did not inherit the title of majesty as a concubine, but Victoria did. She was fair and beautiful still, and her beauty gave Victoria a glimmer of hope.

"Mother am I ready?"

Anna stared down into her shoes, unable to drag up the correct feeling out of the dark ocean of her soul.

"You'll be late, he is expecting you at the stroke of one"

So fair, so beautiful, so blue, so cold. Victoria did not know about the other concubines, but she knew her mother, that icy blast of wind that followed her everywhere, chilling the soul instead of the skin.

"Yes of course"

Victoria went to leave the room. As she walked past her mother something in her profile sparked a long dormant emotion in Anna.

"It will be a great adventure..."

They each turned and almost, almost looked each other in the eyes for the first time in a very long time. So close, no matter how far.

Mary escorted the young princess down to the hall. For all its finery it was a home first and foremost. The young Victoria had sat on these stairs and sung nonsense songs to herself, she had ran and giggled and sulked and stropped and everything in between through these rooms. Her mother, for all her resentment, had always made sure that the fine paintings and tapestries of the house were respected by her child. The house as a whole was half mausoleum and half home. As she walked it struck a slightly haunting note in Victoria, as if the house itself were a mother or a father to her, a grim authority and a shelter rolled into one. She felt something, one of those unnamed emotions that is better felt than said as she walked out the door into the gardens and towards the carriage.

Standing by the horses was Mr. Proust, a tall and fine gentleman who seemed to know more about the world than the world perhaps knew about itself. As Victoria's teacher and guide he had been employed most of his life in the intellectual training of the young princess. He smiled a little as he walked towards him, but his head as ever was in one of his clouds of thought. Victoria had learned that Mr. Proust was here to test her wits and that was as far as he was employed. Still the testing of wits can be an intimate act, two minds attempting to top one another, and there was a soft spot in her heart for her dear old teacher.

"Good morning your majesty"
"Good morning Mr Proust"
"Tell me, how long will this journey take?"
"Mr Proust, maths is for mathematicians, but I would say that we should arrive at the palace at half 12"
"And how do you arrive at that conclusion?"
"I arrive at that conclusion because the king wants to see me at 1 o'clock, and you would not permit your prize to be late for inspection"
"Well it's not mathematics your majesty but it is certainly logic"

Victoria climbed aboard the carriage.

"Mr Proust how do you think the King is able to rule an entire globe? Do you think he lays awake at night calculating when the sun is going to rise? Or do you think he trusts the job to his astronomers and the operation works beautifully because of that trust?"
"The latter your majesty, and I am overjoyed to hear of your deep respect for astronomers, if not astronomy itself"
"Let everyone excel in the ploughing of their own field, let everyone be a captain of their own ship, in a metaphysical sense at least... For I am no tyrant, Mr Proust, and neither is my father"

Mr Proust paused on that and a strange smile came over his face.

"When will we arrive?" asked Victoria.
"Half 12 barring no interruptions"

A strange smile came over Victoria's face.

"where do you think my father will award me?"
"I couldn't say, most likely a colony of blacks somewhere, or I dare say a trading post of equal darkness and obscurity"
"Then I shall make the darkness a beacon of light and civilisation, in line with the wishes of my dear Mr Proust"
"You honour me, your highness"


********************************************************************************

The carriage had come to the mighty palace on the edge of the great capital, capital of the world, of the globe. The empire stretched from pole to pole, from sunrise to sunset. There was a bright future ahead for all it seemed, an era of relative peace and harmony unbroken before the steps of the mighty palace.

Victoria and Mr Proust had fallen into a silence in the carriage. Perhaps the old educator was enjoying the feeling of pride and the young princess was rattling with nerves, but they would not discuss it together. Proust wanted to tell her that there are few moments in this life worth truly building towards, and all their sacrifice was about to culminate in sitting at the feet of the mighty king. It seemed to cheapen the moment every time his mouth opened to speak, and so he closed it before it could make any sound. Proust was a lapsed genius, a man who could have worked in the new sciences and bullied his way into history, but he did not have the vicious streak required of such a man. Instead he poured his genius into this girl, an empty vessel and he found many surprises in the raising of Victoria that would shock even the early explorers. The mysteries of the great falls of Tacannous or the ice seas of Ponmore bore a shocking resemblance to the deep pools of idiosyncrasy in the young Victoria's mind. As his life's work was about to leave him forever he felt a father's satisfaction. Proust buried this feeling as deep as it would go, he was not the king, and she was not his daughter, reality would never bend to feelings, however strong.

"Mr Proust, what shall you do when I leave these shores and you have no one to bother with questions?"
"Your Majesty I shall wither and die like all things, first in the heart and then the body and mind. My only consolation will be the knowledge that you will be bothering people with well-informed questions, thus I shall live forever"

Victoria raised her eyebrow to that reply.

"So you have your affairs in order then Mr Proust?"
"For eternity"
"Then suppose I do the same, teach another to think and feel. Do you think in a thousand years, down a string of strangers, our spirits will meet again?"
"Our spirits, your majesty?"
"Yes. When man reaches out to the stars and soars like an eagle do you suppose there will be a young princess and a salty old teacher still singing our song?"

Mr Proust smiled wistfully.

"I suppose so, your majesty"
"Then I won't bother to miss you, Mr Proust, on my travels, for I will see you again am I correct?"
"Most likely"

The carriage pulled up in the stone courtyard of the mighty palace. Mr Proust wanted to tell the young princess to straighten up her sword as she exited the carriage, but she straightened it up of her own accord.

"Well Mr Proust, good journey", she said with a level of incorrigibility.
"And to you, your majesty"

Victoria walked up the stone promenade to the entrance of the palace with her head held high, as she did Mr Proust turned to the carriage driver.

"That's the problem with civilisation you know," said Mr Proust.
"I'm begging your pardon My Lord, I don't follow"
"I have raised that little girl, and that was what she really was, no royalty, just a girl. Now that I will never see her again I wanted nothing more than to hold her close. But there was an invisible field, made of the weight of history, between us, and that is the great problem of civilisation"

The carriage driver let out a small knowing laugh.

"Well I certainly hope you were not lying to her majesty when you agreed your spirits would meet again"

Mr Proust looked deep into his chest for answers.

"No, I was not lying".






































2. The palace





The servants of the palace lined the hallway, their heads bowed for Victoria Dennett as she strode confidently through the hall. Victoria knew deep down that they would have other things to say in the scullery or the coal room. The world was not yet convinced by the new way of 'many kings, one kingdom', and some thought the royal line so pure that it should not be tainted with common blood. These people were the most obvious heart of darkness in her father's land, their claim was defeated 67 years ago in the great war and yet they endured in the darker corners of every town and village in the land. Mr Proust, ever ready to protect his prize, had informed her that these people were 'struck with bitterness, an almost incurable disease of the soul' and told her if ever she ran into one of these souls an example must be made and made quickly. Victoria scanned the servants of the palace as she walked past them, eager to detect the first bitter note. On the last turn before the office of the great king, she found him. A servant that raised his head and showed the deep pools of resentment from the eyes of his chewed up face.

"Why do you look at me, servant?"
"Your Highness..."
"Keep your eyes on the floor where they belong, that way you'll be ever more apt at studying dirt as you already are",

The servant lowered his gaze and the other servants lowered them even further than before. She stood for a moment to let the servant know she was there and then she thought, quite deliberately so it showed in her body language, that the whole incident was beneath her before continuing down the hall. As she walked she felt as if the spirit of fear itself had rushed up toward her, like a charging lion, and stopped only at the last minute because she did not move, and she looked the lion directly in the eye the whole time.

At the end of the hall was a grand double door which two servants opened as she came. The door led to a waiting area, a bare room with a pauper's chair up against the wall. Inside the waiting area stood a short hairy man with the smell of a chemical about him, an animal fat soap or a stale beer perhaps. His round portly face was not heroic or lordly in the slightest, but this man had her father's ear it seemed, so she bowed.

"The king will ring through on this bell" he said, pointing to a bell hanging beside the door "When you hear it you will enter and bow low to his majesty and introduce yourself. His Majesty will inform you of your title and your territory, as well as your sacred responsibilities to the crown. Do you understand?"
"Yes but why is there only a pauper's chair to wait on?"
"His Majesty is not without a sense of humour, Miss Dennett. I shall leave you now", he replied, leaving the room.
"What sense of humour?" said Victoria to herself as he left.

The bare room with the pauper's chair worked its magic. She began to think of herself as the lowly creature that she truly was. She had wit but no clue, education but no experience and soon she would be given title without a plan. She did not know if she was truly capable of ruling herself never mind a kingdom. All of Mr Proust's wise words seemed to flee her just as the battle was beginning. Her hands clasped themselves in front of her and she bowed her head in silent prayer.

"I do not know what is to happen. Give me the strength to face a man I have never met. Give me the strength to make a good account of myself on my adventure. Give me the wisdom to seek justice in every situation. Give me..."

Then another thought came into her head, almost perpendicular to the thoughts she was having. It smashed into them and knocked them off the road before any momentum could be built up in her begging. It was an old thought of Mr Proust's.

"You know Victoria it must be an absolute bore to be God. Think about it, people all around the world get on their hands and knees and ask him to fix this and to do that, as if he didn't know what to do himself. Imagine listening to a million requests every day from here to eternity. People treat God with the utmost contempt if you think about it",

Victoria let out a short, snorting, uncontrollable laugh.

The anxiety melted away in the laughter, it was far too much effort to remain anxious while truly laughing anyway. She knew that soon her father would run her through the mill, but now she was oddly prepared.

The bell rang. The very same shot of fear that the servant had given her returned with a vengeance. This was more than a door to the Office of the King. It was the lair of a dragon, a terrible fire breathing beast that guarded the treasure she had sought so badly for so many years. Victoria gripped her naval sword tightly and had one final thought before she crossed the threshold.

"I can always slay him"

The humour was too dark to be comforting, she opened the doors. When she first laid eyes on her father it was as if she could not see him at all. She was paralysed by his presence, as if a python had appeared from the grass and stunned her with the gaze of his deep black eyes. He was talking, quite nicely, but none of it registered.

"Hello Victoria, you have come today to perform your service to the crown. I'm sure you are eager to know exactly where I am sending you, well take a seat and I will tell you" said the king as he thumbed his way through some documents.

Victoria obeyed, waiting for the king to raise his head and look his daughter in the eyes. The King thumbed through his documents a little more. Victoria looked around the room. Behind the king stood two soldiers of the royal guard, stocky and serious. She instantly felt tremendous guilt for even thinking of slaying the king and waited for him to make the next move.

"So how are you? Good?" asked the King.
"Fine your majesty, just fine"

The kings eyebrows shot off in different directions and he formed a small smile.

"Nervous?"
"To be honest Your Majesty my nerves have seldom taken such a beating"

She was unsure if the King had a sense of humour, so her joke was a sort of forlorn hope, a battalion set to storm the castle with no hope of success.

"Well I assure you Princess Dennett, with the precarious nature of our new system of crowns that your nerves are going to take much more of a battering before you've spent your purse."
"Yes, Your Majesty"

The king took a long serious look at the young Victoria, although he had planned this next move, there was a glimmer of hope inside him that he wouldn't need to be so harsh.

"You will be sent to the royal colony of New Yeoman. It is a tropical colony on the continent of our creation (if you believe the new science). There are 600 civilised white men working there in a sapphire mine and we estimate about 50,000 blacks on the coast and hinterland. In the colony there are about 50 competent men running the operation and ensuring the shipments of sapphires come back to the homeland. You will go to New Yeoman and marry the first competent man of your choosing and make him your King"

Victoria was thoroughly beaten at this point. She nodded in ascent that she would follow her father's wishes. Though as she nodded she felt an odd fire that could not be doused, an odd defiance that no matter who this man was to everyone else and how serious her responsibility she would find some way to circumvent the whole thing. It was as if the very nature of the universe required opposition. Her father had gifted her a very strange gift. She could lie in body but never in spirit.

"Yes Your Majesty"

Her father looked her up and down one last time.

"You will stay tonight at the royal dockyard and tomorrow you will sail under the auspices of Captain Stewart, a young seaman of great promise. I would not send you second class of course"

The King rose from his seat, an indication that Victoria should follow suit and that it was time for her to leave. He raised his hand towards the door and Victoria, following years of training now ingrained in her memory, bowed low and then went to the door.

"Oh father?" she said at the door.

The king had sat back at his documents and seemed surprise by the contraction.

"Yes my dear?"

"Why do you have a pauper's chair and a bare hall outside your royal office?"

"Did the gentlemen not tell you? I am not without a sense a humour"

Those eyes, which had been so python like, glowed with a certain kind of warmth as he said it.














































3. The Dockyard




Last night had been an adventure in itself. As soon as Victoria had reached the royal dockyard she had sent a squire out to the great library for some books on the colony of New Yeoman. The colony was about 50 years old and was famous for one reason, disease. The first scientists had expected that when they arrived a pestilence would follow them ashore and wipe out the weak, the sick and the wicked. This had happened in many other places around the world and had now been termed 'The Breath of God'. Instead of dying however the natives gave the settlers fevers and bowel disorders of their own. The natives were captured in a memorable passage

'The jungle is impenetrable. Over half of my company has been struck down, some onto the grave. Our Provisions are sufficient to wait for this pestilence breath to pass and we have been resupplied by the Victory who patrols these waters. The natives have given but not received, in excellent health, their bright white teeth smile at us as we writhe in agony on their beaches. They are either so wicked as to be outside God's power or so loved by the almighty that he shields them from the wickedness of this land. They learn our language in line with their tremendous curiosity, but I fear we may settle here a thousand years and never know as the native wit is to never show their true hand",

It was said that the colony should be abandoned and left to another age if not for 'the jewelled mountain'. The legend went that a group of settlers were mapping out the mountain when one pulled a sapphire the size of a small apple out of the dirt. The colony was soon saved when news of this spread. Victoria gathered that the colony was still young and precarious and decided in her mind that when she arrived she would look for ways to peak their interest beyond the sapphires. It seemed to be only way to ensure the survival and prosperity of her new land.

She was going to think of her father, but she buried whatever pain was bubbling to the surface. Life was a tragedy and it could only be borne properly by one with meaning and purpose. Just before Victoria was about to break down in her room she remembered she had both in abundance. She had dependants, she had responsibility to hundreds of men now, she could not let them down by overindulging her own pain. The research had been her way of rallying her own personal troops, keeping herself busy until the emotional storm had subsided. This was not Mr Proust's teaching, after all he had a propensity to wrap her in cotton and tend to her intellect. It was a failing in Mr Proust, one she had correctly identified and sidestepped.

The morning had been a bustle of servants preparing baggage and dressing in the royal residence. The doctors had informed Victoria of certain ethers and elixirs that would counter the diseases of the tropics, but she put no stock in their opinions. She had a certain cutting remark for one of the physicians.

"My dear man you cannot call a disease the 'The Breath of God' in one sentence and then claim you have a potion that makes his breath smell better in the next, away with you",

The doctors had went around her and packed the personal elixirs anyway. Soon she would be a few thousand miles away and they were unlikely to be caught defying the royal will. The servants had taken her baggage down to the waterfront where the Endeavour was docked. The ship was magnificent, her tall masts and intricate workings were a thing of beauty and grace. When Victoria laid eyes on the ship her imagination caught fire and spread wildly. What manner of men called this ship home? What incredible vistas had the vessel seen? What fantastic storms could she endure? Victoria stepped up onto the ship, clasping her naval sword proudly, her head held high. This was not like the queens of older ages, brood mares, embroiderers and passing fancies. This was an age of great adventure and the crown had blown with the same trade winds that carried the great goods of the kingdom around the seas of this world. She was an adventurer, a hero taking the first step on her journey, something could not quash that idea as it was written into the fabric of the times.

"Good morning, Your Majesty, fine day to sail would you not agree?"

Captain Stewart stood tall but easy. The bounce in his step was a sign that this man was ready to man any part of his ship, almost like an enthusiastic ship's mate. His voice however was filled with a certain deep quality that caught the ear of the men around him and made them hearty with the weight of their work. Victoria let out an uncontrollable smile in response to the captain's ease and power, as if their stations in life meant nothing and this was simply man and woman together.

"Good day, captain. We're heading south today am I correct?"
"South? We're heading halfway round the globe, right men?"
"Aye captain!", said the men laughing.
"Everyone except for Simmons. He'll be heading to the brig for being such a reprobate",
"Aye, the brig captain. I'll lock myself in this time captain", said Simmons as he passed.
"Aye you better Simmons", said the captain with a smile.

It was not royal to burst out laughing, but it happened regardless. Simmons showed a mastery of himself when he turned to admire the laughing princess. The men also let out a soft murmur of approval before returning to the preparation of the ship. The Captain had taken many passengers around the world and knew from experience that the ship required 'unity of purpose' if it was to survive the harsh and unforgiving seas. The way he achieved this was a sort of humorous press ganging of his passengers into his crew. The crew approved of the passengers and the passengers approved of the crew and so nothing would molest the ships spirits. It was harder to marshal a hundred men when the brig actually had to be used. Tempers would flare, souls would rub the wrong way and without harsh measures a fine ship would become a delinquent democracy. It was always better not to sail into a storm if one could help it.

"Now captain, formally speaking I am your commander"
"Of course your majesty"
"However I leave the command of this voyage in your hands. I sense being a captain of a ship is not only your first destiny but also your best",
"You honour me, highness"
"Make sail for New Yeoman at yours, and Simmons, first convenience"

She said it loud enough so that the men on the deck could hear. As the captain walked her to her cabin she could hear the men joking away.

"Ha, Admiral Simmons"

Victoria was lead down the narrow steps to the captain's room. The ship was clean and well-kept and she suspected that the crew were not ready to get underway because they had been scrubbing down the walls and floors for a royal passenger. Mr Proust had told her stories of how harsh a seaman's life was, but despite their long days without comforts of home they had never forgotten how to keep a place respectable.

"Routine, your highness" said captain Stewart proudly.
"I beg your pardon"
"Routine is what really settles a man's soul. Keep it clean, keep it tidy, do your duties, keep on smiling"
"Captain Stewart, is that the genuine talk of a seaman or is that something you've conjured out of your imagination?"
"Most likely my imagination your highness. It works as well as the tall masts catch wind though"

Captain Stewart opened the door to his private ready room. Set against the wall was a table and chairs that would be set out every evening for the officers and the captain to dine. Victoria wondered for a second if this would be expected of her, to dine with the officers and tell tales of her upbringing. In a flash of fantasy she imagined herself as the captain of this vessel, a salty sea dog sitting down to her bare meal and wine and entertaining the men with stories of pirates, doldrum winds and the cannibals of the south seas. The room itself had a few trinkets, a globe, some equipment for cartography, a volcanic rock or two, but it did not seem that Captain Stewart had sailed the seas in search of rare and precious items.

"Captain?"
"Yes your Highness?"
"What is the greatest thing you have ever collected?" she said coyly.
"Stories, your highness, but you cannot sail the globe and not bring back an object to prove that you actually did it, otherwise you would be as well staying two towns over for 10 years and working on an entertaining lie",
"and so you have the prized object now?"
"I have a prized object your highness, one that if not surpassed will be taken back to my ageing father as proof of both his and the world's good work",

The captain went over to his desk and produced a small, delicate key from around his neck. He opened a secret compartment in the main drawer and produced a buffalo bone breastplate.

"This belonged to a native that we used to call running mouth" he said wistfully "He was from the western shores, a man who made himself productive and useful in the colony. I asked him to sail with us because he spoke the truth to any man regardless of their station... He was so difficult in so many ways, always battering in to people's business, but right far more than he was wrong. He died in a storm as we went around the cape, saving 5 sailors from drowning in a row boat tethered to the ship. He was loyal and brave right to the end. This breastplate reminds me your highness that it is not really your station or your blood that makes you a man, it is in here" he said pointing to his chest "and it is up here" he continued pointing to his mind.

"He was dear to you captain..."
"Aye, and I have not found a more precious object in 10 years of sailing"

Captain Stewart handed the breastplate over to Victoria. Her eyes widened as she inspected the strange craftsmanship, the alien aesthetic of the beads and bones and ties. The story that the captain told gave the object another life altogether, lighting up the bravery of the man and the pride and heritage of the natives. She handed the object back with great care and the captain stowed both the breastplate and the key safely away. The captain gathered himself up into a more formal mode.

"As the ranking officer my room is at your disposal, the hammock comes out here and everything else is as should be",
"Of course"
"I will send the ship's mate down shortly to help you acclimatise. This is your first voyage am I correct your highness?"
"Indeed you are"

The captain took a moment to size up the potential of the young Victoria.

"Then I shall keep you close to my heel the whole way. You can learn more in a month of sailing than a month in books I assure you. Books rarely stir the blood to action, books leave no memory in your muscles, books..."
"Captain" she interrupted "I am well aware of the powers and pitfalls of reading, away with you, see to your men"

"aye" he replied.

























4. the open sea





It had been two weeks out of port now and one week without throwing up for the young princess. The cook had informed her that the food would never be any fresher and the wine any sweeter on the voyage, so it was not that that had killed her appetite. The captain informed her that the seas would barely be calmer, so it was not the motion of the ship that was turning her stomach. Simmons, the only charitable member of the crew, had told Victoria that the desert winds would kick up, turn the sky orange and line the stomachs of one who 'had not let their bodies do the travelling'. Either way Victoria had felt weak in more ways than one. The men dared not laugh and whisper around her, but it was hardly an indicator of a superior person to be struck down when all around were healthy and well. She took the whole thing to be the work of a higher power, a being that made her ill so that an unnamed player on the ship may learn a lesson by seeing her struggle across the deck. By the fifth day she was convinced that her illness be the work of some intelligence too large to get the smallest grasp on. To her credit she did not blame anyone or anything. Life may have been short and brutal at times, but it was not cheap in her father's kingdom.

She stood on the quarterdeck, recovered at last, and mused over what the captain had told her that day. The captain said they were coming up on the first islands colonised by her family, a small volcano sticking out of the vast blue ocean. The islands were a staging post for the great crossings but had fallen out of favour as the routes across the planet had changed. Their importance had shifted from the material to the historical, though the islands doubtless saw themselves as the centre of their own cosmos. If information were food then the whole thing had been a fantastic meal, imagining how the kingdom and the colonies expanded, the early sailors and settlers and even the purpose of her life and culture. It was almost romantic at times, she could, if she adjusted herself properly, see the venture of her people as a romantic effort to both save and civilise the world. There was nothing romantic about the bowels of the ship, but up on the quarterdeck it was difficult to feel anything but.

"bloody impossible to do hard work out here" said the captain passing.
"captain?"

Captain Stewart, whose brows were unusually furrowed, changed direction and came up to the quarterdeck with the princess.

"You see that?" said the captain pointing to the blue sky.
"Yes"
"And you see that?" he continued pointing at the calm sea.
"Yes captain" said Victoria with a smile.
"That is the bane of my existence. Over and over I tell the boy in the crow's nest to watch for ships, whales, rocks and land and all day he spends glorying in the heavens and the earth, dreaming. All day I tell the men to watch themselves in the ropes and keep a sharp eye on the deck, and all day I catch them glancing out to sea. How can a ship sail with that going on from dawn till dusk I don't rightly know"

Victoria laughed with great heart at that.

"What is funny?" asked the captain.
"Captain, this ship and the others of the fleet are some of the most glorious things in either the heaven's or the earth, and you are getting annoyed at your men for occasionally looking at the glories of the heavens and the earth. I find that somewhat amusing is all"
"Ach, away with you. You know you can still command this voyage if you'd like to, I'll stand up on the deck and feel the breeze all day if it suits you?"
"Then I'd be depriving you of your best destiny, Captain Stewart", she replied with a smile.

The captain changed his tone a little for there out.

"You'll do well as a Young Queen your highness. The colonies are different, it takes a special quality to manage men and the King is too far away to protect you. You are going places I can tell. I wish to visit New Yeoman in a year or so and perhaps your highness would entertain me?"
"Her highness would approve, if you brought her something fancy from the eastern peninsula or the south seas"
"I will bring you Simmons if I can get him round the cape alive again"
"No captain, a prized object if you please" she said, joining in with the joke.
"Simmons is a prize, your highness. Wait until tonight, me and he officers have a surprise for you",

The captains attention was grabbed by two sailors talking loudly instead of manning the mast. He strode over and started to manage his men, leaving the young Victoria blushing on the quarterdeck. She thought at once that the captain, for all his qualities good and bad, seemed to be an outrageous flirt first and foremost. It was not completely unwelcome, nice even to have a man gambling so furiously around her. She ran the last week through her head and remembered that Captain Stewart had also gambled and flirted with a degree of interest and skill. Unsure of what the future may bring, she went down to the ready room to await this evening's surprise.


********************************************************************************


The officers came bustling into the ready room, without so much as a knock as usual, and pulled the tables and chairs into position. They were laughing and joking amongst themselves about something or another and Victoria welcomed the men in. The table was set up quickly, each man knowing his role and perhaps working more efficiently for food than they ever worked up on the deck. The cooks were in and out in a flash with the plates and the wine, bowing and complimenting the officers on a good days sailing. The officers were soon in good spirits, talking over the young princess as they had done the whole first week of illness, but there was no ill will in the room.

"Highness" said Lieutenant Fitzpatrick.
"Yes Fitzpatrick"
"We would be most honoured if you would allow a member of the crew to dine with us tonight",

Victoria tilted her head slightly at the proposition.

"Oh Fitzpatrick, and what would be the purpose of that?"
"Well your highness" said Fitzpatrick looking around the table for approval to continue "This particular crewman is an educated man in the ways of our glorious history"

The officers giggled a little to each other.

"And he will entertain me?"
"He entertains us..." said one of the officers to laughter.

Victoria searched their laughter for any unusual cruelty. The men and officers always seemed to teeter on the cruel and unusual, but pulled back and laughed before any harm was done. Victoria trusted the officers.

"Then by all means send this towering intellect in" she assented.

The door to the ready room opened and in walked the crewman. The officers cheered loudly as he appeared.

"Simmons!" shouted the captain as he raised his glass "Come sit down"

Simmons, bashful in the full presence of the officers and royalty, kept his eyes fixed on the floor as he entered the room. Victoria had learned that Simmons was likely to say the unexpected in any situation, even the inappropriate at times. The Captain, whom she originally expected would wind his neck in for talking down to men above him, instead often took him to the side and talked privately with Simmons. The thing that struck Victoria most about this strange crew mate was that he seemed to police himself, police his speech, his thought and his action. Perhaps that was the joke everyone was in on, perhaps not. Whatever the case Simmons had plenty of deference in himself, but a defiant will also.

"This is it, captain. I've finally arrived at the table"
"Didn't I say I'd find you a princess Simmons?" said the captain with a wink in Victoria's direction.

It was a funny kind of outrage that came next.

"Captain, behave yourself. Now Simmons you have a story to tell me about our History am I correct?" asked Victoria.

A lot of confidence came from the compliment for Simmons. He raised his eyes off the floor and let out a soft smile to the officers at his left and right.

"Where did we get to, lads?" said Simmons.

"The rise of the New Religion, death of the old Gods I believe", said Fitzpatrick.

The officers, in unison, argued with each other, almost too fast to even hear what they were arguing about.

"No we finished that, we were up to the decadent Emperor Wilhelm", said one.

"Yes and his conversion, we did that. We are up to the barbarian invasion from the east",

The captain, slightly wounded from having his own neck wound in, had reformed himself and leaned in to Victoria and said in a low voice.

"This is what they do instead of bloody sailing"

The young Victoria paid him no serious attention, or at least fought off the smile that was forming on her lips. The officers continued to argue and Victoria watched as Simmons eyes began to lower into the table, shrinking at the sight and sound of his betters fighting. Victoria did not want a tale told out of the corner of Simmons mouth, so she inflated him once more.

"Simmons, as this is the first tale you have ever told a princess perhaps you would like to lead with your strongest foot. Come, tell me a tale of your choosing"
"Well we did get up to the barbarian invasions of the empire last time so I will tell from there and put a smile on everyone's face" he replied, looking around the officers.
"Aye, Ever the democrat, Simmons" said the captain in a low and serious voice. "Tell your tale",

The officers quietened themselves. They loved a good story first and foremost, but details about the ancients were not something a young officer came across every day. Fitzpatrick and the others were upwardly mobile men, competent and ambitious, coming from the class of merchants and traders and always looking to improve their families station in life, but they seldom met a man who learned for the pleasure of himself and others. Simmons knowledge was free, dished out for the betterment of a man's soul, it was a prize, and for all their joking and jockeying they listened with intent, hoping that Simmons would pour forth a diamond or two and give them meaning beyond their ropes and masts.

"Well the barbarians came out of the east. They were driven by a war in their homelands and so great tribes upped sticks and moved west en masse, tens of thousands of men were soon moving into the empire from the east, raping and pillaging as they went. They were desperate, which is the one good thing that can be said about them..."
"Desperate is never a good thing", said the captain.
"You would have agreed with the emperor Tako, captain. He sent a small army at first to wipe them out, but the might of the army had been diluted by centuries of neglect and the barbarians were underestimated in their numbers. It was a massacre which sent shockwaves through the empire. The people panicked. They began to blame the fact that there were many tongues in the empire and no common tongue. They began to blame the decadence of their rulers, the sloth of the beggars, the system of money that rewarded hard work with pennies, the wheels were beginning to come off the axis of the carriage so to speak",

The officers baulked at the idea. Victoria watch as they tried to search for answers to the problem in their minds. Fortunately for her she knew this story, it was the story of the rise of her family to power, her great ancestors who saved an empire and placed her and her kin at the top of the tree for centuries.

"Continue, Simmons, the story gets better, men" she said raising a glass.

Simmons caught her eye and he could see the flash of acknowledgement in a man who had thought long and deep about the matter at hand.

"Well there was a general from the peninsula called Arcanis. He organised himself to depose the emperor and at that hour of desperation the people cheered when the family that had run their lives for a thousand years was wiped from the earth forever",
"a man runs his own life" said the captain interrupting "And I'm sure that general ran his life better than all around him, but continue"
"The barbarians had made their way as far in as the inland sea. They had subjugated many square smiles of the empire, but the general sent a call to raise a grand army. The new army and the barbarians fought at Memph on the coast. Beyond Memph stood nothing but farms and fields, women and children. This was the great gamble of the age",
"But it was a necessary gamble" said Fitzpatrick "Less they treat with the barbarians and lose everything two decades later when they were weaker"
"Exactly" said Simmons in agreement "The army was enormous, the siege train alone was 3 miles in length, and it was fortunate that the barbarian leader chose to face them in one great battle rather than wear the empire down. Arcanis drove the barbarians into oblivion and declared himself king of a new empire",
"here here" said Fitzpatrick, raising a glass.
"Here here", replied the men.

The men continued to ask questions of Simmons on the details over the meal, but Victoria sat with a strange smile on her face, feeling at home amongst this motley crew, feeling accomplished, feeling pride.

























5. the chase








The Endeavour was now hugging the coast of the continent of our creation. Victoria had persuaded the captain to let her sit in the crow's nest to give her some semblance of duty. Her cabin was beginning to transform from a sanctuary to a cage and Victoria, never one to think of herself as a delicate bird, demanded some function on the ship other than a collector of compliments. The captain had decided the following.

"Well admiral, the only duties fit for someone of such rank must be at the top of the ship, would you not agree?" he had said, pointing up to the nest.

As she stood looking out onto the coast she mulled over the captain in general. As no one could hear her up here, and as it was under her breath, she talked to herself.

"I dare say the captain has been running rings around you since you first stepped on board the ship. I am soon to be queen you know, and a queen does not require playmates",

Like the waves however, another thought came rolling over the last. This one was a silent thought.

"Still if he can run rings around me then just imagine how he would run rings around our children"

The thought made her blush. There was no one around her to see her blush, so it was odd that she should do so at all. Victoria knew of course, with total certainty, that God sees everything, every crevice both inside and outside her mind. To blush at all was to blush before God and so she tried to regulate herself. Ashamed now of her red cheeks, she brought her hand up to cover her mouth as she looked out to sea. It was there she saw it.

"Oh look, another ship. I actually spotted something" she said with delight.

Victoria produced her looking glass from her pocket and with great curiosity she tried to size up the vessel. Was it a trader? Or another military vessel? Had her father sent another ship to fetch her from some ghastly mistake? It was difficult to tell, firstly because Victoria had no experience of a looking glass and so could not instantly focus the device on the vessel and secondly the excitement of seeing anyone was causing her to lose her concentration. Finally, she got the vessel in her sights. It did not look as big as the Endeavour at first, more like a large trader or a whaling vessel. She then saw her sails caught high in the wind and felt a shudder of dread work its way right down her spine.

"Black sails..." she said quietly to herself.

In horror she looked over the nest and onto the deck for the nearest officer. The captain was nowhere to be seen but Fitzpatrick was in charge on the deck for now. She took a deep breath and shouted as clearly as she could.

"Black sails! Black sails",

All the men on the deck looked skywards. Fitzpatrick had been chatting away and was slow to respond, but answered.

"Where, your highness?"

"North north west" she shouted. "I'm coming out the nest"

As she began to climb down she heard Fitzpatrick send the midshipman down below for the captain. The crew had shifted to the aft of the ship to see the vessel, followed by Fitzpatrick. She came out of the rigging and onto the deck Captain Stewart appeared from below and rushed over to her.

"are you safe?" he asked.
"yes captain but we have a ship sailing under a black mast in my father's kingdom",

The captain, out of character, seemed to dither for a second, his hands clasping at his sides and the regular bounce in his step subdued.

"Fitzpatrick", he shouted "What is it out there?"
"It's a trader alright, but she sails under a black mast. If we come about we can be on her in a quarter hour captain",

The captain sprung up onto the stern deck, followed closely at the heel by the young Victoria. There were now 3 officers gathered in a small circle talking furiously together. The captain bustled his way into the middle of the circle, which closed on Victoria before she could join it.

"Captain, we can come about and with the wind be on her before she has a chance to run. We come up alongside and bring the long guns upon her and...."
"No Fitzpatrick" she the captain before continuing in a more hushed tone "We cannot risk the princess to gunfire"
"Excuse me Captain" she interrupted "But that is a ship with a black mast in my father's kingdom. They are pirates damn you and they ought to fall under our guns"

The captain and the officers continued to talk in hushed tones together, ignoring the princess.

"Captain!" she screamed like a little girl "What colour is my uniform?"
"Red, your highness"
"Yes and your officers are wearing royal blue, so don't let the royal part of the colour go to your head. Bring this ship about and engage those pirates", she demanded.
"You two" said the captain in the most difficult decision of his career "take the princess below and lock her in my ready room", said the captain.

Captain Stewart produced another key from around his neck and placed it firmly in a junior officer's hand. The looked at the junior officer with a fierce intensity and whatever objection the man might have had to the order quickly melted away and he obeyed. The stunned Victoria soon felt the officers hand on her arm, leading her down below. As she was being led down she heard the captain ordering the crew to run away and she felt like she had been stabbed in some profoundly metaphysical way. The officer, who she had dined with for 3 weeks, bumbled her into the ready room and locked the door behind him, leaving the young princess screaming in frustration.













































6. New Yeoman.






The Endeavour had ran away from battle, ran right to New Yeoman and the protection of the island fort and her guns. The pirates, forever fighting a battle against the odds, decided to let her be when she reached the sound. Nobody had known who they were or where they came from, less still of what they were truly capable of. They had menaced Captain Stewart for two days, like vultures of the desert looking for sick carrion. It was not unheard of that a royal trader would turncoat into a pirate when the king was not looking. It was also whispered that certain colonies and ports would send these scavengers out to pick the royal pocket, such was the corruption of the Planetary Kingdom. It was Captain Stewart's duty to find out, and he had abandoned that duty to protect his princess.

The key to the ready room had been used the past two days to supply the princess with food and water and a bucket to slop, but no one dared talk to her or look her in the eye. The captain and the crew knew they had, despite their hands being forced, made a serious mistake. The captain had asked his crew what kind of spirits the young princess was in when they visited her. This was one memorable reply.

"Her majesty looks like a venomous snake, captain. She is coiled all tight like and I fear being bitten by her more than anything when I bring the water down to her",

The ship was now being tied up at the pier, safe and out of harm's way. The captain thought it best to take Fitzpatrick down to the ready room with him when he freed the princess. The thinking was perhaps the presence of Fitzpatrick would take some of the venom out of her, after all, the more eyes one had on them the less likely they were to erupt. On the way down below the captain wondered for a second if the princess might even thank him for his better judgement. He had been placed in command and in his mind the young princess was out of line for attempting to assume command. As they reached the door the captain and the young officer paused.

"Fitzpatrick, you go first", said the captain.
"Captain?"
"You go in first, I will follow right after you"
"What are you expecting, captain? A chair thrown at you?"
"Just go first, you don't need to say anything just go first",

Fitzpatrick silently mimicked the words 'oh well' before opening the door. The ready room was not destroyed, that was the first good sign. The young Victoria sat at the captain's desk, seething with the kind of rage of a man contemplating murder in a holding cell. It was a slightly different kind of rage however than that however. There was rage, she was tightly coiled, but decades of training in manner and poise had made the young princess in control of even murderousness intent. Fitzpatrick saw this first and his eyes instantly hit the floor like a dog who had messed the floor. The captain saw her next as he came in. It seemed like it was up to him to address the princess, but the words stuck in his throat before he could get them out.

"Your Highness, the ship has arrived at New Yeoman and we are unloading the goods. If her majesty would like I will take her up on to the quarterdeck so that she may see..." he began.

"Captain. I have decided what to do with you", said Victoria lowly and to herself.
"Highness?" said the captain.
"You have imprisoned a member of the royal family in a dungeon like a common criminal. You have disobeyed a direct order from a superior officer. You have..."
"Your Highness, I...", the captain tried to interrupt.
"Don't even try!" barked the princess. "It is out of sheer love of my father that I am not going to have you hanged from the pier you have docked me at, but I warn you captain, if you set one foot in New Yeoman I will have that foot lobbed from your leg and you will walk in circles for the rest of your life. Do you understand me, captain?"
"Yes, your Highness", said the captain softly and into his shoes.
"highness...", the young Victoria spat, "Next time you use those words to any of my family make sure you mean it".
"Yes, your highness", he replied softer than before.

The young Victoria took a deep breath in her chair. If she did feel anything for the captain any more there was no way the captain could know, having been castrated the way he had.

"Fitzpatrick?" asked Victoria.
Yes, your highness" he replied, expecting another hammer blow.
"Is the welcoming party ready for me on the dock?" she asked.
"They have been waiting a half hour now, yes"
"Good. Do I have your permission to disembark?" she said with a good deal of sarcasm.

Fitzpatrick dithered and looked into the floor once more.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'", she said with a cruel smile.

The captain and Fitzpatrick followed Victoria up onto the deck liked heeled dogs. When Victoria reached the fresh air, she paused to take in the sight of New Yeoman. The town of Larsville, the only serious population centre for the whites in the colony, stretched up a small mountain in the distance. The port itself was nothing more than a pier dock, a road stretching up to Larsville and a few large storehouses. She turned around and looked to the sound and saw the military fort in the sound.

"Fitzpatrick? Is that the Jewelled Mountain?"
"Yes, your highness. It is the reason the colony exists at all", he replied.

The princess seemed to be done with the entire crew of the Endeavour, because she asked no more questions of the men and reverted to the mannerisms of a cold and distant princess who expected the earth to move for her as she walked. She did, in a way that no one saw, take one last look at the Endeavour, perhaps in her heart more than anything. It was such a bitter goodbye, but she had already decided how to act on leaving. She reached the gangway and saw the soldiers of the fort assembled on the land, along with a crowd of civilians. The military drums and trumpets started up as her feet touched land.

"Hail, Princess Victoria of New Yeoman!" shouted an officer on land.
"Hail!" shouted the soldiers in unison.

The soldiers stood in lines and a particularly tall and stiff officer stood at the front with a wild moustache. The officer stood with his back so straight Victoria feared for a second that he might sprain something. She laughed a little, but just on the inside, outside she was thoroughly regal. She walked slowly towards him, taking in the shape of his brow and his deep intense eyes. His eyes stayed focused in the distance and never looked at her. As she reached him she saw his Colonel's insignia and she guessed that she would have dealings with this ridiculous man on a regular basis. The whole thing just became funny, and she did not know why.

"Your Highness" said the Colonel, snapping himself into an even cleaner position.
"Colonel, are you a toy soldier?"
"No, your Highness. I am a real soldier", he replied, like it was a genuine question.
"Relax, man. You're making me think I have bad posture"

The soldiers behind the Colonel laughed as much as they dared.

"Company! On her royal command, stand easy!" shouted the Colonel.

The men stood easy, as did the Colonel, though it was hardly easier than before.

"Colonel Hawkins, your Highness, at your command", he said with a great deal of pride in his voice

Victoria shifted into a more serious mode.

"Colonel, I will need good men who can obey orders under me in this colony. Is that you and your men?"
"If it's not, your highness, it soon will be if I have anything to say about it"

That drew a smile from the young princess. She had not smiled wide in a good 3 days and had lost a good portion of restful sleep to dark feelings. Perhaps this man, this caricature of a royal officer would provide the steady hand that she needed. The colonel was certainly no comedian, she could tell by the complete lack of any laughter lines in his svelte face. He was also not a comedian in the sense that the humour did not come out of this mouth, but she felt an ease with him she had been missing.

"Very well, colonel, what is first on the agenda?"
"If it pleases her Highness, we should go to the Governor's mansion in Larsville and feed you something fresher than that sailor's grog"

The colonel looked the young princess in the eyes, but only briefly. His face was warm but his voice still without genuine humour. The colonel lacked something that the captain and the crew had, timing perhaps, wit maybe. It seemed to Victoria for a second that each man got his excitement from a different source, the Captain's was the open sea and the colonel's, she imagined, was perhaps a well erected flag pole at first light.

"Very well, but first I would like to meet with the people who have come out in the hot sun to greet me. Would you care to escort a princess?"

Hawkins sniffed a little, like something savoury had been passed by his nose.

"Of Course", he replied before turning to his men, "Lieutenant, take charge here".

The princess came off the pier and walked towards the small crowd that had gathered. The crowd were wearing their best clothes, blue tunics, white pantaloons and frilled dresses. Victoria noticed that some in the crowd were using eastern fans to generate a cool breeze in the stifling air. The heat struck her, she had been wearing the same admirals uniform the whole voyage and despite intermittent bathing had developed a powerful stench as the sun and the wind got warmer. She dithered for a second herself and wondered if the first impression she really wanted to make was a princess that smelled like a sea rat. When she reached the crowd, she stopped a good 5 feet away and walked past them in a line as if she and the colonel were inspecting the troops.

"We call them New Yeomanries, your Highness, affectionately", said Hawkins.

The princess scanned the crowd, mothers, young girls, a mining guild with a banner. She then came across the first black family she had ever laid eyes on. It struck her intensely because the most she had ever seen was a poor drawing in a picture book. They were tall and strong, but looked oddly hurt by something inside, as if the weariness the world caused sat heavier on their faces. Then she saw the little boy, still innocent, still smiling and bright eyed. Victoria found herself drawing closer to the boy.

"Hello there, I am Victoria", she said with a wave and a smile. "What is your name?"

The child caught on quickly that Victoria was playing a game. He walked in a circle and flapped his arms first before replying.

"Ndende", said the boy.
"Ndende is it? I see. Ndende, I like your beautiful black skin"

Ndende did another full circle and small kick to the side before answering.

"My skin is not black... My skin is yellow!", he said with joy.

Ndende's mother reached out to him, half to reign him in and the rest to guard him, it was an odd maternal emotion. Victoria laughed at the sight of the playful boy.

"And my blood is blue", she continued "You see that blue line running up my arm?"
"Yes, i do",

Ndende pulled his arms up and was shocked to find no blue lines. His mother and father let out a small laugh.

"Ndende?", asked the princess.
"Yes?",
"I will be your queen one day. Do you understand what that means?"
"It means you will be the boss"

Victoria looked into the eyes of Ndende's mother for something, but she was not sure what. Perhaps it was permission she was seeking, permission to steal a piece of this innocent child's heart by being queen at all. Whatever the reason, Victoria saw a strange look of trust her in her eyes, trust coupled with excitement not at meeting royalty, but excitement that her child was stretching his boundaries so well and into such good company. Victoria could almost see in her eyes the words 'go on, my son, go out there!' and Victoria felt both warm and complete in a moment.

"What do you reckon to the boy, Hawkins?" asked Victoria.
"Beautiful skin, indeed, beautiful skin", sniffed Hawkins.
"Ndende, I am going up to the governor's house now, but I will see you about, ok?"

Ndende looked at the princess as if this might really be goodbye. The princess wanted to assure him she would see him again, but she did not quite know the lay of the land yet, and so left it to the boy's imagination.




































6. The Governor's office





The last night had passed in a drunken haze. Victoria had went to the governor's mansion and met the movers and shakers of New Yeoman, but exhaustion had caught up with her. Every person she met was like a lump of talking meat, everything she ate slid down her throat and everything she drank sent her further into a comatose state. She retired as early as etiquette would allow and slept in a comfortable bed. When she woke she needed to remind herself that she had arrived anywhere at all. The room seemed strange and alien and it had set a chill up her spine. Her head was throbbing and she wondered for a second if this was the beginning of the dreaded fever of the tropics. She got out of bed and found a dress laid at the bottom of her bed on some drawers. After dressing she looked into the mirror on the wall.

"My God, I look like a fresh caught salmon"

She brushed her long hair through and before long was ready to creep about this strange house and look for another human being. She wondered for a second if she should just stay in the room and wait to see if anyone remembered she was even there, but it was a childish thought. Back in the home nation Victoria was woken and dressed by a servant every day and it seemed, despite it being the littlest thing really, that she was perhaps growing up on her adventure. She opened the door to the hallway and found a wall with tribal masks hanging. The masks had outrageous features, large carved eyeholes, jagged white teeth and a pompadour of feathers streaming out their foreheads. It reminded her of what a child may draw a face like, before they were shaped and carved themselves by their elders and betters. She drew closer and closer until her hand touched the wood and the nail they hung on strained under the extra weight.

'If this truly is the continent of creation, then these people must be God's children. They draw like children, they walk and talk like children..." she said to herself.

"Pardon me, miss" said a female servant.

Victoria had neither seen nor heard her approaching and jumped out her skin for a second.

"I'm sorry to startle you, Highness. Was it the masks that scared you?"
"A little, yes. I am used to having a dozen pairs on me but these ones say a little more, wouldn't you agree?"

The servant girl relaxed a little and took a long, curious look at the masks.

"I don't know, I've seen smiles that warped in the pub before", she joked "Why just last week I met a fellow as ugly as this chap here"
"I think we've all met this fellow here", said Victoria pointing to another mask.

The girls laughed together, still servant and princess but now with an odd sisterhood. The servant invited Victoria down to breakfast and the princess dined alone. After the meal she went out onto the veranda and looked out to towards the sea. The captain and his crew were gone out of sight. Victoria felt her heart sink a little and she did not rightly know why, hating the captain as she did. Perhaps she missed the Endeavour itself as it was still a magnificent ship, but she resigned herself to the idea that if the ship was to continue sparking the imagination it would do so in some other far corner of the world and not in her mind or heart.

"Beautiful day, wouldn't you agree?" came a voice.

The voice was that of Governor Sampson, de facto ruler of New Yeoman. He was a little taller than Victoria, but the presence of the man was not in his height. Sampson was handsome, his face charming and symmetrical with deep green eyes and swept brown hair. He was quite stocky, for an administrator and it made a person wonder exactly what he did to his body to keep in such fine shape. The dear old Mr Proust, whom Victoria had almost forgotten entirely, had told her that men like Sampson were the product of superior breeding, like a fast dog with a good nose. It was difficult not to be impressed by the dimensions of the man, and her father most likely meant for a man like Sampson to become her king, but she was not ready to roll over just yet.

"Governor Sampson? Am I correct?", she said, purely to test him out.
"Yes, we met last night. Was everything okay for you? The meal? The wine? The sleeping quarters?"
"Yes Governor, but you did not cook the food nor set the table nor brew the wine or even make the bed..." she began.
"Surely not, but I ordered that they happen, and they happened. What is the matter?", he said with some hope in his voice.
"Nothing, really, just a sore head"
"God taxes travellers", he said playfully. "I dare say there are duty's to be paid for moving around his creation"
"i quite like the idea that God has a customs union of suffering, Governor, but he is a cruel God who taxes the poor more than the rich, wouldn't you agree?"
"Perhaps, but in an even crueller twist of fate we are made to suffer the poor. It may be a different duty but he gets his penny out of us as well",

There was something a little unnerving about that statement for Victoria. She wished to test the Governor out but it was in the hope that he would be pass the test. He wasn't an indecent man by her reckoning but something just did not sit well. No one she had ever met had ever even hinted at the idea of why her class were where they were in life, not in a Godly sense anyway, and because she had clearly not thought as deeply on the subject as the governor he seemed to her both more regal than she could ever hope to achieve, but also more lowly and beastly than she had ever reached. She felt the same presence of a predator in her midst as she had when she met her father.

"Shall we go to my office?", asked Sampson.
"Sorry?"
"The affairs of state, I need to get you caught up on the lay of the land, so to speak",
"Yes, of course"

The governor led her through the mansion and talked of the dining the night before as he did. He seemed quite eager to remind Victoria of the people she had met and how important they would be to her. In truth the governor was trying to invite Victoria in to the inner sanctum of life in New Yeoman. He assumed that she would join of course, given her position in life, but he was also determined that she enjoy that society also. It was a sort of kindness, presumptuous kindness, but kindness nonetheless. Victoria listened with intent of course, but something inside kept her from falling wholly under the governor's spells. Captain Stewart had a good crew to help entrance the princess, but the governor, a necessarily lonely man, had only his individual intellect to do the same, and it showed. The princess was no slouch, in mind or body. It would take a man of some genius to convince her he was brighter than her. Still the governor played his games as they walked through the mansion to the office, eager to strike up some kind of rapport.

They reached the office of the Governor and waiting outside the door was a tall, black skinned man with very tattered clothes. To Victoria it was yet another handsome man in her midst. He was bald with shaped cheeks and a barrel chest.

"My goodness, man, where on earth have you been?" asked the governor.

The question was rhetorical in nature.

"Governor, I have news from the leader of the Wasai People. I must speak with you urgently"

The man looked like he was bearing no good news at all. The words came desperately out of his deep voice and it seemed that whatever it was if they did not move quickly then things would go wrong for the colony.

"The Wasai people?", asked the princess.
"It's the name of the blacks that live in the colony", explained the Governor.
"Then anything you need to tell the governor, you need to tell me, for I am now your princess and soon to be queen"

The man's eyes widened when he heard those words. He looked Victoria directly in the eye and held the stare. It felt to Victoria that he stared so long and so deeply that she could have painted his picture. There was a lot in there, not just an announcement. The man had travelled hostile country, he had heard someone's plan and what it might mean and Victoria got the distinct impression that he was up to something. She squinted back at him, as if tightening up her eyes would help her figure out this man.

"You are my princess?", he said.
"Yes I am"
"Then you must come inside..."

They entered the office. The governor sat behind his large mahogany desk and rested his feet up on a stool at the side of the chair. He was not relaxed however, it was more of a childish habit the governor had picked up in his work. The princess and the man stood at opposite sides of the table, like two councillors. The governor was split for a second, between royalty and usefulness, between man and woman, between society and the colony. He looked at both of them and hesitated for a second before asking

"Now Kareem, tell me what has happened?"
"The Wasai leader has heard of the princess coming to these shores. He still sees himself as king of these lands and the white man as guests in his country. He has grown tired of the raping of the jewelled mountain and the violence that has sprung up between the blacks and the whites..."
"But those incidents were dealt with in our courts. The whites who committed crimes against the blacks were hanged and vice versa. Does he not trust that we have a system of justice?", asked the governor.
"He did at one point, but now his heart has grown darker and voices in the council cannot sway him any more", said Kareem.

The governor stared into his desk for a moment. The man had big decisions coming up very soon and Victoria could see his mind working over the alternatives already.

"And what does he think of me and my father's might, Kareem?", asked Victoria.
"The leader says he will never hand over his kingdom to a white woman until she comes to him and he can see that she is of good character, fit to rule", said Kareem.
"And what if I don't?"
"Then there will be war", said Kareem.

The governor took his feet off his stool and leaned forward in disbelief.

"War!? Is he serious?", said the governor.
"Very serious, sir"

The governor sat back in his chair and sighed deeply.

"He cannot have her", said the governor.
"What?", asked Victoria.
"He cannot have you. I will not send you up river to that pit in the jungle to be roasted on a fire at his leisure...", started the governor.
"You will not send me anywhere at all. I am in charge, I will do the sending"
"Your Highness, please. The man is a murderer, and this is a ploy to weaken us, he will capture you and use you as a hostage"
"Governor, you cannot fight off 50,000 blacks with 600 men. If I don't go you will be wiped out before my father can land a ship"
"But we will fight to protect you! Can't you understand that?", said the exasperated Governor.

Victoria pinched her brow with her fingers. Her headache was even stronger than before, she could feel the tension rising in her body. She tried to calm herself a little and say the next thing as clearly and as plainly as she could.

"I went through this with Captain Stewart, I will not go through this with you. I am going up river to meet this 'king', I will avert this war and when I get back we will organise a real meeting for this man with my father. Now you can either help me, with military men and supplies or you can watch me storm up river with nothing but Kareem here, but I will go, and I will do as I say"

Something in the governor decided to shut up at this point. Perhaps it was his sense of hierarchy and knowing that according to that he had no place telling her what to do. He wanted to keep arguing, but he could not find a way to play against the card that Victoria had played herself. Kareem watched with interest as a 6ft burly governor, his friend, was cowed by a little girl who had barely spent a day in the colony. It marked her out in his mind as the royalty that she was, he had found his princess to take up river, someone who could speak with the authority of the real king of the planet.

"Very well. Each man (and woman) should be allowed to choose the method of their own death", said the governor getting out of his chair and heading to the door "and I cannot stop you from experiencing death, so be it then", he continued to say as he walked out the door to his office and into the hall.
"Governor, don't be like that. I'll be fine", said Victoria.

The governor stopped in his tracks and turned. He was experiencing 5 or 6 powerful feelings all at once, 5 or 6 aspects of who he was trying to fight for supremacy. In the end the 'good governor' won, and he said,

"Your Highness, I will give you the finest men in the colony to escort you to the tribe's village up river. If we must go then we will make a show of force about it", said the governor.

Victoria smiled and nodded in a strong and confident manner. It was both a surreal and one of the most real moments for Victoria in her life.

"Governor, send for my father while I'm gone, in case we fail"

The governor nodded in turn, now fully aware of the bravery of the princess.


























7.the jungle



"Well I know one thing, your highness, today is a fine day for a suicide mission", said Colonel Hawkins
"Hawkins, I knew you were hiding a kernel of wit in that outrageous moustache of yours", replied Victoria.

The men were in an uproar of laughter.

"Easy, men, or it won't be the rhinos that trample you to death", barked Hawkins.

Victoria and the soldiers were making their way out of Larsville and into the jungle on foot, with Kareem and a young black tracker boy called Felix to guide them. The plan was to follow the River Yamon up to a dam lake in the jungle where the king of the Wasai People held his councils. The path was wide and well-worn at this point, being the main road by which the Wasai traded with the colonists. Victoria noticed a black woman coming in the opposite direction down the path, wearing a robe and sporting a large wicker basket on her head. The woman was composed and smiling in the jungle heat and Victoria instantly felt ashamed for herself. She felt ashamed because she was already tiring under the half mile of walking and this common girl had probably walked 20 before midday with the same smile on her face.

"Colonel, how far have you made it into the jungle before?", asked Victoria.
"We tracked a rapist for two days, me and my men, but the man wasn't much before he committed his crime and he wasn't much after it either. We found him by the banks of the Yamon with a crocodile bite in his right arm. The man denied the crocodile, but he could not deny the hangman's noose", said Colonel Hawkins.
"Hawkins, you are a crocodile", said Victoria without a hint of sarcasm.
"Colonel Hawkins, when we reach the council fire I will tell your story. My people believe that heroes have the spirits of the animals inside them, maybe they will say you have the spirit of the crocodile", said Kareem.

The colonel was puffed up just a little by the honour, but he disagreed with the analysis.

"Kareem, I have seen a troop of chimp's corner and tear apart a rival chimp from another troop. Surely the spirit of the chimpanzee would suit me better", said Colonel Hawkins.
"It is not up to me to say, colonel, it is up to the shaman. The shaman can see through people, see to the spirit world", said Kareem.

Victoria knew little about the practices of the shaman or medicine man, but she felt an odd respect and stayed quiet. It was perhaps the weight of respect that Kareem had for the shaman when he spoke that made her do this. They walked along without words for a short time and Victoria played with the idea of the shaman in her mind. Did he report to the king or the chief? Did he speak for the people in the council? Neither of these ideas seemed to be loaded in to what Kareem had said. The shaman certainly could not be a madman, being held in high esteem, so where did his power come from?

"Kareem, do you believe in magic?", said Victoria.
"Superstition...", said Hawkins.
"I don't mean magic in a ceremony, Hawkins, or the workings of a fraudulent alchemist. I mean genuine magic, you know, you are going along quite merrily and something magical happens and you feel larger than yourself for a second"
"That is what the shaman does for the community, princess. I would have never left the tribe and come to the coast if the shaman had not made me see", said Kareem.
"See what?", asked Victoria.
"See who I was and who I could be", said Kareem.
"That rhymes Kareem, you are a poet and you don't even know it", said Hawkins.

They all laughed a good laugh, when they came down again Kareem said,

"It is my experience that the white man has all of our powers, but they are sleeping inside him. It is true that we must have all the white man's powers sleeping inside us. When they came to these shores our people knew it was time to awaken from our sleep", said Kareem.
"Well let us hope we did not awaken the war-like impulse inside you", said Hawkins.
"War is human nature, Colonel Hawkins, war is the nature of the angels and devils, war is even chimp nature as you said before. War does not have a skin tone attached to it and it shows no respect to the levels of being either", said Victoria.
"Then let it sleep and be nothing more than a story or a dream", said Hawkins.

Kareem, Victoria and Hawkins fell into a silence as the men behind them chatted away around and about what had been said by their leaders. The path ahead began to narrow and grow wilder and the forks in the road grew further and further apart as they walked. The troop stopped for a break after midday and broke out some rations. Victoria was entertained by the young tracker boy Felix doing some handstands in the clearing. It seemed to lift the weight a little, the weight of their mission and their responsibility. The boy was maybe 10 or 11 years old and was a curious mix of responsibility and childlike innocence. As he played their hearts grew lighter, Victoria's in particular.

"Do you think children know when to clown around?", asked Victoria of Kareem.
"Clown?", he replied.
"You know, act the fool, make light of the situation, do you think they know when to do it?", she continued.
"Felix is not a boy in our eyes, he is a man. Felix is a joyful man and a joyful spirit. Joyful spirits know when to play and when not to", said Kareem.
"But he... but he would be considered just a child in our eyes. How can someone so young be a man?", asked Victoria.
"By doing manly things", said Hawkins as he chewed on his rations.
"Ask him yourself, highness", said Kareem.
"Felix?", she asked, calling the boy over.

Felix stood in the same ready stance that she had seen in Captain Stewart, bright eyed with his tail up and wagging.

"Yes?"
"Why do you do handstands in the middle of the jungle?", she asked.
"So I can hold up the whole world for a few seconds!", he replied.

The men laughed, but Victoria was awakened by that statement. The troop travelled the rest of the day in good spirits and Victoria let the jungle 'in' so to speak, the sounds of the birds and insects, the many beautiful shades of green and brown and the soft rains in the evening. The jungle had transformed from a hostile obstacle into a living, breathing soul that penetrated her own, as she in turn penetrated the jungle

********************************************************************************

Victoria and the men had found a clearing off the path to camp for the night. The men had gathered some dry wood for a fire and cooked a soft stew with their cured meats. Acclimatised to the jungle, Hawkins had broken out some hot whiskey and tobacco for the men and they gradually intoxicated themselves as the night grew darker. Kareem had warned the others that the white man's poisons did not sit well in his stomach.

"You do not see the gods with your whiskey, colonel", said Kareem taking a sip.
"Alcohol is the drink of the Gods, a sweet ambrosia sent down from heaven to warm our hearts and hearths", replied Hawkins.
"He has never tried the jungle brew?", asked Felix.

Kareem laughed long and loud at that. His laugh pierced the jungle and the white faces around him went from merry to concerned and insulted.

"What the devil are you laughing at, Kareem?", said Hawkins.
"We make potions so strong that you will meet your God instead of just talking about him fondly", said Kareem.

Victoria's ears pricked up when she heard that, and it was only because her inhibitions were lowered by the alcohol that she said what she said next.

"But can we sell it?"
"Your Highness?", replied Hawkins.
"Can we sell it? I mean once the sapphires run out then this colony is finished, but if we have a jungle potion that helps you meet God almighty then we have something to sell surely?"
"You want to trade the jungle brew?", said an astonished Kareem.
"I want to take the jungle brew! And if it does what you say it does then so will many others", said Victoria.
"Men, I give you Victoria Dennett, be it mind or body, her bravery knows no bounds", said Hawkins.
"Here here", said the men.

The colonel gave Victoria a sort of sideways glance on saying that and caught her eye. For a moment the colonel seemed both vicious and gentle, his bright eyes and wide smile glowed with a knowing affection and love. The colonel showed that he had some spells of his own to cast, and all her first impressions of him as a ridiculous man just fell away. She returned the look of love and affection and for a second the pair were suspended in eternity. It was just at that moment however a snake entered the garden.

"Oww", said Felix as he came out of one of his handstands.
"What's the matter, dear?", asked Victoria.

Felix held his left arm and looked intently at a black patch about halfway up near the elbow. He then presented his arm to the group before his legs gave way and he collapsed.

"snake!", shouted one of the men.

Everybody got their backsides off the floor and swatted around themselves in case of more snakes. Then they saw it, a baby python had snuck into the camp through the dead leaves beside the fire. Victoria and the men circled the snake and the snake became aware that he was in more trouble than he bargained for. The snake rose to its full height and hissed before trying to find an escape route through the leaves. In those few seconds however, Kareem had pulled a Machete from his kit, strode into the circle and with a single swipe cut the snakes head clean off its body.

"Oh, god. Felix... What can you do for him, Kareem?", said Victoria as she nursed the boy.

Kareem was still staring at the dead snake, processing his own vengeance.

"Kareem? Come on I need your help"

Kareem relaxed a little and tended to the boy. He inspected the wound and found that the snake had not struck a vein. There were two black puncture marks that needed seen to quickly.

"I will suck the poison out of his body. I want no white man questions while I do this we have no time", said Kareem.

They followed his wishes and stayed quiet. Kareem put his lips over the wound and sucked as hard as he could, spitting out black blood intermittently. Some of the men scanned while others watched the jungle floor for more predators. The boy was one of them and the jungle had seemed quite content so far to let them pass without a toll. They cursed their lack of vigilance and prayed for a miracle




















8. the village






The men had carried poor Felix through the jungle for 2 days on a stretcher. The boy had developed a fever and the men had taken turns carrying and watering him. Kareem had promised that when they reached the chief's village the women of the tribe would use some herbs to help his fever pass. It was a stroke of luck, if you could call it luck at all, that it was a baby python that had bitten Felix and not an adult. Still it was a great concern that Felix was only a boy himself. The jungle, for all its signals and signs, had stayed quiet in their minds, foreboding. Victoria had felt bitter about the incident, but over the two days had developed a respect for the jungle. She had argued in her head that there would be no respect for the jungle if the jungle could not take something precious of hers. She had kept her feeling and thoughts to herself, but as they neared the village she spoke up.

"Kareem?", she asked.
"Yes, your highness?"
"There is darkness in my heart", she said softly.
"Darkness?", said Hawkins.
"I would burn this whole forest down if it takes Felix's life. I would burn this continent down if it has the gall to take something from me again. I know this is darkness in me, I know that I need this forest, I need these people and I need this continent, but there is something in me that would butcher the world for crossing me", she said.

Kareem took a long breath and looked skywards.

"I know that I don't want to be this way. Do you think your medicine man would help get this darkness out of me?", she asked.

Kareem paused for a second to remember, but it was very much stronger than remembering. It was like the shaman was sending him a message across time and space.

"Death is natural, your highness. We can be clever like children playing a game and stay away, we can even laugh at death, but it is always waiting, like the snake. If Felix does not die, if you do not die, you will never get the point of life. Death may be your enemy now, but it will become your best friend one day whether you butcher the world or not. That is what the shaman taught me"

Whatever Kareem had said seemed to answer Victoria's question. If war was to happen between these people it now seemed an even greater shame than before, because she had really learned something from Kareem these past few days. She had expected much on her trip, a wild lion, hot weather and a beautiful green jungle, but she had not anticipated that she would meet people who had ruminated on life and death and everything in between. She had expected to rule the blacks but not to let them into heart like she had Kareem and poor Felix. Her life was shaping into a work of art. At home she had practised on the easel and before leaving she had got the big idea, on the voyage she had painted the outlines of the big shapes and now that she was here she was adding the most exquisite colours and details to the piece. Soon it would be time to finish and then be judged before the world and her father. The whole venture had been a gamble, like any art is, but her noble goal of steering her world in a better direction had never left her, despite her current doubts. She looked at Kareem a little as they walked, as he seemed to understand this idea in a very oblique but complimentary way.

"Your Highness, the lake", said Hawkins, pointing ahead.

Victoria had imagined the lake the lake as a great expanse of water before she travelled and now she saw it was little more than a pot hole on a vast jungle road. On the other side she could see smoke rising through a clearing and women collecting water by the waterside. As she looked across the lake the women saw them and paused. It started as nothing more than curiosity for the women, before panic set in and a young girl ran into the camp to find the warriors.

"Hawkins...", said Victoria.

Just as Hawkins was about to tell the men to ready themselves a host of Wasai warriors appeared out of the brush from all sides. The men were heavily outnumbered, and the warriors looked tall and proud. Caught like rabbits, they froze, pointing their weapons outwards but unable to do anything else because of the fear. The warriors paused on the precipice of battle, doubtless under orders by their chief to detain and not to destroy their prey.

"Stand fast, men", barked Hawkins.

The men obeyed. There was a sinking feeling amongst them, a sort of collective desperation brought on by the ambush and the odds they now faced. The Wasai warriors were in turn eager for an easy victory. To them the soldiers were like a stuck pig, wild and dangerous, but close to drawing their final breath. They did not see the injured child or the young princess at all, they saw targets. Just as it seemed that all humanity had left the situation a young Wasai warrior stepped forward and stood unafraid in front of the soldiers.

"Please, put down your weapons. I do not want to kill you and you do not want to kill me", said the young warrior.

His voice was so rich and authoritative that it seemed to command everyone around him, friend and enemy. He told them what their emotion actually was and where it would go. Before Hawkins could tell his men to do so they pointed their weapons to the floor. The Wasai in turn eased themselves back into a more neutral stance. Victoria sensed her opportunity to cross a boundary and engage with the young warrior. The men, black and white, surely couldn't slaughter each other if the lines between what they were fighting for blurred in front of them?

"I am the princess you are seeking, my name is Victoria Dennett", she ventured.

Colonel Hawkins tried to grab her arm before she stood in front of the young warrior, but his grip was soft and unconvincing. Victoria looked at his imposing height and furrowed brows that seemed to twist as this young girl offered herself up before him.

"I seek an audience with your chief and his council. You are a reasonable man, will you grant us safe passage?", she continued.

The young warrior seemed to sniff, before saying :

"If this is a sign of your warriors and their skills, I don't see why he should listen to you at all, but I will grant you safe passage if you hand over your weapons", he said.
"Your Highness...", interrupted Hawkins.
"Hawkins you are not walking around women and children with your rifles, you wouldn't allow your women to go through the jungle without arms and they will not allow us to be so armed in their village, fair is fair man now turn your weapons over", she commanded.

Victoria smiled at the young warrior as she said it, in the hope that that his sense of fairness was equal to that of her own. The young warrior was struck by curiosity and for the first time in the encounter he saw the princess in her full glory. He was oddly attracted by both her authority and her delicacy, this being the first time he had ever seen a white woman with blonde hair. A part of him of him, a very small part, wanted to reach out and touch her hair, but he had duties to perform. The men handed over their weapons in resignation.

"You will follow me princess, and your men will walk in single file with my warriors to the village. I will present you to my chief", he said with a great deal of pride in his voice.

The young warrior had a certain bounce in his step when he said it. Victoria caught a glimpse of his sexual attraction, or rather it dawned on her that this man fancied her. As they started to walk she thought that this was a highly inappropriate time for sending sexual signals of any kind. She walked in confusion, but as she did she saw the young warriors strong and sinewy back naked in the jungle. She blushed before God once more. Mr Proust had told her that God will always use the strangest methods to enter the hearts of his children. He had allowed all manner of strange and wonderful things to pass in his kingdom and perhaps he wanted Victoria to realise that these natives were fully human, in sexual and martial terms, which was an assumption she had not made back in the home kingdom. It seemed also, because of the danger they were in, that now was not the time to be thinking about God almighty and his various games, but it happened nonetheless.

The troop walked around the lake and towards the village. Victoria peered into the village as best she could see. A crowd had gathered at the water's edge, old men and women, children and a man with a crown of feathers and a large club. She felt a rush of excitement when she saw the more vulnerable members of the tribe.

"Look Kareem, they live to a great age in this jungle", she said.
"My father lived to a great age in this jungle your highness", he replied.
"I wonder if we will live to a great age highness...", said Hawkins.
"Steady colonel, all is well", said Victoria.

The trees began to clear and the floor empty and they were now in the village. The man with the big club had come around and stood between the troop and entrance to the inner life of the village. The man with the club and the young warrior talked in their native language for a short time and while they did Victoria reckoned that if they survived then Kareem may tell her what the two men said. She dared not talk to him just now however. The rest of the natives had gathered behind the man, they talked in soft voices and darted their eyes around the white men suspiciously. It was a surprise to Victoria when the young warrior and the man with the club burst out in hearty laughter, but she quickly gathered that they were talking about how easy it was to capture her and her men. The man with the club's eyes softened and he looked Victoria directly in the eye and beckoned her forward. He was a man in his 40's or 50's, a man of considerable weight among his people and his warm eyes were all the invitation Victoria needed to step forward.

"Princess Dennett", said the man softly.
"That is me, yes", she said with a curtsey.
"I am Rollo, Chief of the Wasai", he continued.

Rollo stretched his arm to the side and turned, hoping that Victoria would take his arm and the pair would walk together into the village. She was about to oblige but had one last question before the two forces joined.

"My men?", she asked.

Rollo turned to his people and beckoned them forward with his hand. The villagers surrounded the soldiers and began to touch their strange clothes and apparel. Some of the older women took Felix and his stretcher into the village for his treatment. The men's tensions dropped, and they felt saved for a moment in time, fully relieved that they were not about to die in some fool's errand. Rollo looked again at the princess with his softened eyes and offered his hand once more. It was pure love, as pure as one can hope to find in this world and she could not resist his invitation any more.



























9. The Council Fire.




The natives had built a large bonfire over the course of the day and now that night had fallen the leaders of the respective peoples gathered in a stone circle close to the fire. Some of Victoria's men had gone to their temporary sleeping quarters while others were relaxing with their new friends around the fire. The natives had a way, difficult to pin down, of relaxing both themselves and the men. Victoria, Hawkins and Kareem felt the vibe of relaxation, the party like atmosphere, but they did have questions to ask of the tribal leaders and wouldn't be put off by their machinations, however nice.

"So what is this talk of war?" said Victoria taking a sip from her cup.

Sitting opposite her was Rollo and a few elders interested in the direction of things. The young warrior sat closest to Kareem and Hawkins, perhaps as a security measure, perhaps not. He sat on the stones with his body facing towards Victoria as much as he could permit himself. The man was smitten already, but what she had said registered. Rollo and the young warrior looked at each other and laughed.

"There is no war... We know the white man only responds to drama. His ears remained closed and his sight short unless he feels his life is in danger", said Rollo.
"Yes we couldn't think of a better way to get you to come", said the young warrior laughing.

The elders looked amongst each other and agreed with themselves.

"You... You scoundrels! You know what a scoundrel is don't you?", said Victoria trying not to smile.
"There is no need for war?", said Hawkins.
"Well we don't want one, colonel", said the young warrior.

Hawkins sniffed incredulously, he may not have died on a fool's errand but he certainly felt he had been sent on one.

"You lied to me", said Kareem.
"You lie to yourself sometimes Kareem. Who better to send than you?", said Rollo laughing.

Kareem cursed his elders in his native language, but his anger quickly melted into laughter of his own.

"So why am I here then, you bunch of fools?", asked Victoria.
"Well we still want to have a brave and honourable woman as our queen, and I still want to be chief of the Wasai", said Rollo.
"Perhaps we can do something else, Kareem has told me of your jungle brew. If it works like he said, and if you want, you can trade for anything of ours, clothes, compasses, medicines", said Victoria.

Rollo sent one of the elders off from the stone circle.

"You want to try?", he said with a smile.
"Yes and I want to meet your medicine man, I have not seen any sign of this man", replied Victoria.

The elders talked amongst themselves, seeming to be impressed by something Victoria had said.

"He lives on the edge of the village. He did not come to meet you because he already knew you were in the jungle. It is not news to him", said one of the elders.
"Well that's impressive if it's true but surely the man is curious to see us in person?", said Hawkins.
"Maybe, we will ask him", said Rollo.

The elder returned from a hut with a large shaped bottle.

"Please, empty your cups", said Rollo.

They emptied their cups and the elder poured into them a slither of the jungle brew into their cups. Hawkins politely refused as he was determined to keep an eye on the young princess whilst she was intoxicated. The elders spread the word around the village and some of the young men came by to get a little taste of the jungle brew. Victoria took one last strange look at the black brew, it smelled awful, like a rotting tree and foot odour, but this was what she had come for. She held her nose, decided to be brave and swallowed the concoction.

"We will break up the council, princess. Go and walk around the village, talk to the people, look at the great fire. Your Hawkins will look after you well", he said with a smile.
"Will I really meet my God?", said Victoria.
"Anything can happen, princess...", said Rollo.
"Are you alright, highness", said Hawkins.
"It tasted vile, Hawkins, but give it time", said Victoria.

The three of them stood up and went around the village together. They talked a little, and Kareem noted how brave the princess was and how she was perhaps the first white woman to try the jungle brew ever. The misgivings Hawkins had seemed to melt away, or rather he put them to the back of his mind. The trio wandered around the huts and close to the lake. They noted how wonderful a place this was to live, how pretty the trees looked lit against the fading sun on the horizon. Then it happened, the colours of the evening sky started to move and dance with the undulation of the laughter and voices of the tribe. Rather than panic Victoria felt elated by this phenomenon. She did not tell Hawkins in so many words, rather her feeling of love and understanding grew and she let Hawkins watch that. The trio wandered back to the fire and Victoria noted to Hawkins how deliciously the flickers of the flames danced. She started to mix her metaphors, like the boundaries between meanings were falling. It was then that the shaman appeared before her, like a ghost man.


"I knew you would come", he said in broken English.
"I knew I would come, I had to", she replied.
"Your father... great king... his daughter... hold still", he said.

Victoria obliged and the shaman took the pipe in his left hand and blew a white smoke around her face and body.

"You will never be afraid again", said the shaman.
"No I will not", replied Victoria.

The shaman put his hands on the shoulders of Kareem and Hawkins and nodded to each respectfully. The shaman was particularly deferential to the warrior Hawkins, placing his hands on him with extra care and with full knowledge that Hawkins had fantasied about his own death more than any man for 50 miles. Hawkins stiff grin seemed to melt as the shaman communicated with him. Before long the man disappeared around the fire to talk to some others in the tribe. As he left he whooped and hollered in primal delight, leaving only mystery in the hearts of the young explorers.

"I need to sit down", said Victoria.

She wasn't in any distress, but Hawkins asked nonetheless.

"Are you alright, Highness?"
"Yes I just think that the party will get better if I sit on the council stones", said Victoria.

Hawkins walked her over to the stones and she sat with a neutral expression on her face. The late-night heat of the jungle was getting to her a little. Then it happened again. The walls of reality began to melt themselves and she was launched into a great tunnel.

"My God", said Victoria.

























10. The Flash



Victoria travelled through the tunnel. She could feel herself halfway between a dream and being awake. There was a great flash of white light and she found herself back in her family home. It was different however, time was different, the walls were lit in contradictory colours. She noticed that she was actually a little girl again wearing a little dress and playing with a tea set! Then she saw her God, in the shape of the dear old Mr Proust sitting in a baronial chair opposite her. Mr Proust smiled at her and said.

"Now Victoria, you had a question about your picture book?"
"Yes Father. I'm having a bit of trouble with some of the words in the picture book", said the young Victoria.
"Well I would be delighted to help you"
"Yes but first I need to know something, are you my father?"
"My child, your question is meaningless, I am you and you are me, we are one. Do you remember what we said about the two spirits meeting each other?"
"I said that our spirits would meet again, but I was older then"
"So you see that time has no meaning here either, am I correct Victoria?"
"I suppose Mr Proust... Where are we?", she asked.
"Oh just call it your imagination and keep it simple", he said with a smile "Now you had a question about your picture book?"
"Yes I understand the pictures but I dont understand the words here, courage, bravery, honour and understanding. I don't know what they mean Mr Proust", she said.
"My dear I have the perfect world to send you to. We will be cut off from one another until you cross the great barrier again, but I know the perfect world where you will experience all these things and so much more. Can I send you there my dear?", asked Mr Proust.
"Yes you can send me there", said Victoria.
"That's wonderful, just get up and walk out the door behind you", said Mr Proust.

The young Victoria got up and went to the door. As she reached for the handle she felt one last flood of a loving feeling inside, enough to keep her warm wherever the door led.

"Oh and Victoria", said Mr Proust calling after her.
"Yes?"
"Poor little Felix will recover well from his snake bite"
"Thank you father"

Victoria turned the handle to the door and found herself flying through the tunnel again. She could hear the strained voices of the whooping of the shaman and the villagers and then reality formed itself around her again and she saw Hawkins face in front of her.

"Your Highness, are you alright?", said Hawkins "You drifted for a second"
"Hawkins, I was off somewhere. I need time", said Victoria.
"Let us get you to your bed, princess", said Kareem.
"I love everything, everything I say", said Victoria.

Hawkins was more than a little concerned at this point, so he took her to her hut for the night. On the way to the hut Victoria saw Felix up and walking around the village.

"My dear boy, do you know that God loves you?", asked Victoria.

Felix smiled his wide smile, raised his hands in exaltation and said,

"My princess has had the jungle brew".

Victoria stumbled into the hut, looking as if she had been in a tremendous fight of some kind. The elders had not warned Hawkins or Victoria that the brew had any side effects beside religious revelation, but now she seemed a little delirious and this concerned Hawkins greatly. He lay her down on the soft grass inside the hut and tried to comfort her as best he could.

"Your majesty, your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your neck nearly broke as you craned skywards for a minute. Do you remember any of this?"
"I remember God almighty, my love, my teacher, my great guide. But now he escapes me by the minute, the barrier is closing, and I want to hold on to him a little longer", she replied.

Hawkins forgot himself and his position for a minute and took the young princess in his arms and hugged her tight. If Hawkins had the opportunity he would not meet the almighty. He was unable to square away the things he had done as a soldier and a man with the mystery that now presented itself to him.

"Can I tell you a secret, princess?", asked Hawkins.
"Of course"
"I always thought God almighty would hurt me if I ever showed my face in front of him. I have not lived as moral a life as I have kidded myself into thinking. I have taken precious life, I have stolen dreams, I have worn men down, all so that I may prosper. Did the almighty give any indication...? Of I don't know what exactly... But did he give any indication?"

Victoria released herself from Hawkins embrace and steadied herself before replying.

"Hawkins, if you ever seen him you would know that he loves us and that all of us are going to make it to him. You would simply just know if you had seen him, you have seen him before though you now do not remember it"
"I have seen him before"
"I can't explain dear Hawkins, it is slipping from me", she said laying down in rest.

Victoria looked up at Hawkins with tired but loving eyes. It seemed for a second that she may invite him to make love to her. Hawkins could see her shape all twisted up in ecstasy and it was beautiful to behold. He sat on the precipice, and he put her hand on her thigh but retracted it quickly, now was not the time as beautiful as she was in that moment. The man was still a soldier, still a man of decency and while it would not have been indecent to make love to a woman making the shape she was now, there was always duty present, always protection to be offered. He felt a little awkward, but also understood that being a soldier of the crown was more than his uniform for a second. He was a true guardian in spirit, a silent watchman who came into creation to oversee God's good work. This was as close as one could get to the almighty without the jungle brew. It played like a bittersweet symphony, but he was moved to be more than he was, with the great promise that more would come than this world.

"I love you, Hawkins", said Victoria as she turned to get some sleep.
"I love you too, majesty, now please rest. I will watch over this hut all night if I have to"
"I wonder what God would say to you, Hawkins", said Victoria close to sleep.
"We may never know".













































11. The morning after



Colonel Hawkins had watched the villagers and his men party into the night from the entrance to the hut. The fire had begun to ember and die before the sun rose once again, the sound of drumming and whooping had stopped and the bird song, along with the various songs of the jungle now most comfortable to him, had started up again. For a commander of men to relax at all was most difficult, but now that the village was asleep he felt a strange peace that he could not pin down. For the past half hour, he had been jostling with a feeling that was new to him, that he was a protector of THIS village as well as his princess and men. He rolled a cigarette from his side pouch and thought to himself.

"These natives have looked after my men. God knows they are a thousand miles from home, serving the Great King. O how I will serve the Great King. If the princess is anything to go by I will die for the Great King and his family. I would die for this beauty of this village too, I would die for the beauty of the world. God has gifted me both life and responsibility, anything good in me has come from him. Take my life if you want, because I value it all THAT highly. You think I am joking Great God? Know the courage of my conviction and weep, for if I could make you feel the way you have made me feel, if I could gift you meaning, if I could give you tears of the sun, then I would return to dust and nothingness with a smile on my corpse",

The colonel began to sing an old battle hymn lowly to himself. He was trying to reach back to all soldiers, all who had treaded the same path as he did now. His battle hymn had marched right into the depths of the jungle, single file, in line with the greats tracks of the soldier's soul. This was where he felt alive, marching into a foreign land and gambling with his own existence, hoping for peace but preparing for war, but the song was low, he felt the song of the soldier almost as strong as he did the song of God, and he did not want to be ashamed in the mighty company of great warriors, so he sung low.

After a time, Hawkins could hear the soft voices of village women somewhere around him. He listened to the native tongue to the undulations of their voices, trying to detect when and why they laughed, or the story hidden in their tones. They seemed more familiar than not and a small smile formed on his face. The girls soon walked by him and he looked back into his boots with shyness.

"What were you singing?", asked a girl with the most beautiful eyes.
"You heard me?"
"I was woken in my hut by your voice. It was a sad song, yes?", she continued.
"Certainly not. A song of the soldiers is not a sad song, it is a song of pride, of sacrifice, of beauty", he replied looking her in the eye.
"Would you like to come and collect the morning water with me?", she asked.

If Hawkins had seen a beautiful woman last night then he saw a miraculous woman before him in the morning. Her shape was divine, her voice soft and her eyes so inviting. Hawkins took a look to the left and to the right and finally decided that the princess was really safe after all.

"The water will be heavy miss, you will need a strong back to carry it"
"I do not mind the weight of the water, soldier"
"Colonel Hawkins, at your service"

The girl perhaps should have been bashful, but instead she looked at him with openness instead.

"Colonel Haw-kens"
"Yes"

The other woman was older, perhaps her mother. She said something in her native language and pointed at Hawkins. The other girl looked curious and mischievous for a second before pointing and asking

"What is this?"
"Moustache, my lady"
"Mousse tach my lady", said the girl before giggling with her mother.
"Moustache", said Hawkins pointing at his face, "My lady", he said pointing at her.
"It is a big Moustache, Colonel Hawkins", said the woman.

Hawkins stood up straight and clicked his heels together as if a commander had given him an order.

"It is my pride and joy, my lady", said Hawkins.

She may have laughed, like Victoria had on first sight, instead her face softened and she said.

"Will you collect water with me, great singer?"

Hawkins took one last look back at the hut before turning to say,

"Of course, my lady",

They went to the dam lake to collect the water. Hawkins, ever on the alert, asked the women if a crocodile ever slipped into these waters to which they replied that a crocodile took a young boy about 6 generations ago. He was astonished that the women remembered something that happened so long ago and yet talked about it like it was last week. The women just laughed at his astonishment and asked.

"Do you not remember your dead, colonel Hawkins?"

Hawkins, never one to use wit as his first weapon of choice, nevertheless said,

"How could I? There are so many dead that I am now responsible for. My heart would burst if I could not remember them in blocks, in stories, in song, but as individuals, there are not enough songs in the world",

It was a welcome thing to collect water with this woman, but soon his own men began to stir in the village and Hawkins soon left his woman to manage them. He commanded the early risers to find the men, wake them, and assemble them at the village entrance for a head count. They looked a sorry bunch after last nights revelry, equipment missing, untidy uniforms and unshaven faces. He had to remind them they were not in paradise and there was still duty to perform.

"As long as you are here, you will patrol this village, you will learn to hunt if the chief permits it. You will not take advantage of our hosts good nature. You will not see what funny angles you can position the native's legs and you will leave no suspiciously creamy babies in this village, do I make myself clear?"
"Might be too late for that, sir", said one of the men to laughter.
"Then let us pray you shoot about as straight as you do on the range then, eh? Go get yourself sorted, break out some rations and get your bloody equipment back",

He expected they would follow about half of those orders. Hawkins had the princess to attend to and so left the men to his second in command. He entered her hut and saw her sleeping with the face of an angel, her long blonde hair mixed up in the grass and her body now in a more innocent position.

"Your Highness?"
"Oh, good morning Hawkins. Are we still in the village?"
"We are indeed"
"I had the strangest dream, like I crossed an invisible line", she said sitting up in the grass "I don't suppose they have a toilet or a bidet in here", she continued with a smile.
"There is a heap to the west of the village"
"Oh what I wouldn't give for a toilet and a mirror. We should have got one of the men to drag a porcelain throne out here on his back do you not agree?"

The colonel chuckled lowly. Victoria began to tie her hair back up into a ponytail.

"I will be queen one day and a queen requires a throne..."
"We will do a little better for you than a toilet, but for now you will have to make use of the heap", said Hawkins.
"Do you remember last night when I said I loved you, Hawkins? I lied I actually hate you now. One more bug bite or jungle rash and I will look as much a man as anyone in our company", she said sarcastically.
"Her highness has never complained about manly work thus far. Why now?"
"Because that brew has left me feeling like my nerves have been all repositioned and a woman requires the equilibrium of the physical body to feel at her zenith. If the machine breaks down, we all break down, to put it in terms a soldier might understand"

Hawkins took the young princesses hand and raised her to her feet. They walked out into the morning air and nodded at the villagers passing them by. There was no sign of Kareem or Rollo, but a small hunting party was shaping up for action in front of them, checking their bows and arrows and laughing amongst themselves. Victoria visited the heap, got some morning water and a thin paste of crushed jungle plants and insects for breakfast from the women of the tribe. Hawkins had went off in search of Rollo to either continue their negotiations or give his men some duties. He returned at last with Rollo and Kareem.

"Tell me, princess, was your God good to you?", said Rollo as he walked up to her laughing.
"Yes, he was. I'm curious how a brew made from plants helps you meet God almighty? Is that who you have been communicating with?", asked Victoria.

Rollo sat his heavy frame next to Victoria on the stool.

"We talk to the ancestors, not to your God, but every white man who has tasted the jungle brew so far has said he has seen the Great God. We are curious too, who is this man who creates everything, knows everything, sees everything?", replied Rollo.

Victoria had talked long and often, ironically enough, with Mr Proust on the subject. As that thought crossed her mind she let out an uncontrollable giggle. Rollo tilted back and watched her, smiling as he did it.

"Are you talking to him right now?", asked Rollo.
"Life is a conversation with God, Chief Rollo. God is both the beginning of all things and the final word at the end of time", said Victoria.
"And who are we?", asked Kareem chiming in.
"Opinions differ... We are his creation, we are his children, we may even be him in disguise, like the cosmos is saying 'you go hide here, and I will seek you there'", said Victoria.

Rollo looked very proud of himself before uttering his next thought.

"Our ancestors are Gods..."
"Or God is your ancestors", said Hawkins.

Victoria felt uncomfortable for a second, she dug out a small hole in the ground with a stick to calm herself, but could feel a noose around her neck. It was perhaps not a rational thought, she remembered she was a hundred miles away from the control of a priest and a thousand miles from anything resembling orthodoxy. They were free in this jungle, free to speculate, free to exchange and free to associate. Nevertheless, she felt she must warn Rollo, though she found it difficult to break such a jolly mans heart.

"The nature of God was decided a long time ago, by men who thought very long and hard", she said as she tried to fill in the hole she had dug for herself, "Now I do not know, perhaps the brew will change how they think, but many a dark time in our History has been fought over the nature of God and I would hate to see your people get involved in that mess", said Victoria with a great deal of sadness.
"Begging your pardon, highness, but a priest would not be getting angry at a people or a system of ideas, he would be getting angry at a plant. That would place him in the realm of the ridiculous, surely?", said Hawkins.

Victoria looked at Rollo, who seemed confused by all this talk. She continued.

"My father will not be happy there was talk of war. He will bring ships and soldiers and unless we have good reasons that will stop him he will defeat the Wasai and bring misery to your people. You must understand, this brew will shake the foundations of the whole globe, and I would not do that! But to save your lives, to save this village, we are going to have to give him something for his troubles"

Rollo looked to his feet. It had not been a prank, rather one of his half clever ideas, gleaned through talking to the spirits and talking to the shaman, as well as a healthy portion of his own hubris and now he had really put the village in jeopardy. Victoria felt a little pity, but that was overwhelmed by the thought that a jolly man should not rule in an age like this, and the Wasai were about to find this out.

"We must consult the shaman", said Rollo.
"With all due respect, Chief Rollo, your shaman looks like a madman who has been whispering bird song too long and too deep. How can he possibly help us at a time like this?", replied Hawkins.

Kareem took this as a great insult to the Wasai. Not one to lose his cool, he instead let his head drop to the floor and spat out an insult in his native tongue. This lit up the eyes of Hawkins and made him grip the plate he was holding more like a weapon than a dish. Sensing the tension of the two warriors, Rollo raised his right hand and calmed them with his voice.

"The Shaman guides our society in its most fundamental decision, the shaman cures, the shaman prophesizes" he said looking at Kareem "and yes colonel, he thinks too long and too deep, but he thinks about us. That is why he lives away from the village"

Victoria remembered in a moment how the shaman had appeared last night, the last sane man before the flash. If anyone knew the fate of the jungle brew it was him.































12. The shaman.





The shaman hut was not far from the village, out of earshot certainly but it was a well-known path for a villager to go and see him. Suspecting that the shaman would be holding office this morning and not be off in the wood and green of the jungle, the respective leaders set off to find him. It was always difficult to pin down the man's movements. If the tribe were a body then he would be a free radical swimming in its bloodstream, dangerous but necessary to one's overall health. The shaman lived away from the water near a small escarpment, a sort of stone palace for a timeless and space-less man. Victoria and the others walked quietly of course, but inside each of them anticipation, fear and excitement built up to an excruciating point. The fate of a nation hung on the words of a madman and a hermit. Rollo and Kareem believed in this man so strongly that if he asked for war then they would ask 'how many should die?'. It all seemed to hang on whether the shaman believed in Victoria.

"Hawkins?" asked Victoria.
"Yes, your majesty"
"Do you remember last night when the medicine man said that I would never be afraid again?"
"I do, is it working?"
"Not in the slightest"
"That's fairly ominous, highness"
"Isn't it just? I hope he has more than rituals in his medicine bundle, it's just..." she continued before bursting into laughter.
"What is funny, princess?" asked Rollo.
"I told a surgeon, last month in my father's kingdom, I told a surgeon that his medicines were useless in the face of God's will. Now I am seeking medicines because I feel useless in the face of God's will. I find that funny is all"

Rollo gave the princess a look of curiosity, having half understood what she was saying. No man was useless in Rollo's kingdom however, and he certainly would never have thought of Victoria like that, so he watched the little white girl talk in and around a God that he could not see and did not know. All he could glean was this, that this God had extraordinarily high standards and was not always nice, and yet she seemed to enjoy his company.