Harvest (42 page)

They fell back in alarm. There was something increasingly formidable about the stranger.

‘That, gentlemen, was when I was Commander of Emperor Slaeke Sinistral’s Private Office.’

There was stunned silence, but Brunte persisted.

‘And what office might you hold now?’ he growled.

‘Following my Lord Slaeke Sinistral’s abdication and retreat due to declining health, I am . . .’

He finally stood up, stared around at them all, and such was his command he actually took off his spectacles, wiped them clean as he often did at moments when a pause for emphasis was needed, so
that they sparkled with light and sent their oval reflections all over the place, including into Brunte’s eyes, put them on again, adjusted them around his ears, one after another, and
finally said in a clear and commanding voice, ‘My name is Blut, Niklas Blut. I am the Emperor of the Hyddenworld.’

The shock, surprise, consternation, bewilderment and alarm that rocked the chamber was total. It was at once heady and scary. Even Arthur and Jack, who had the least cause to feel surprise, felt
the power of that moment for the history of the Hyddenworld’s most fabled city.

‘And before,’ said Blut, raising his hand in a gesture that combined peaceful orderliness with continuing command, ‘one or other of you – or perhaps all of you –
condemn me out of hand as the arch-enemy of this great city, let me say this . . .’

He sat down again, and he and his flashing spectacles and grey eyes were now the absolute centre of attention.

‘The imminent invasion of Brum by the Fyrd is an illegal act which is against my express wishes. More than that, it was most certainly against the wishes of the former Emperor, my Lord
Slaeke Sinistral. I know that because he told me so. Indeed he signed a document to that very effect which, as it happens, I have here . . .’

To everyone’s surprise, including Arthur’s, who thought he knew all about Blut by then, he dug his hand into his inside pocket and produced a piece of neatly folded paper which he
passed to Festoon. The High Ealdor glanced at it, nodded his head, and passed it at once to Brunte, who examined it minutely and grunted. It looked official enough.

‘Let us now be blunt,’ said Blut. ‘This city is under immediate threat of invasion by a force that, however brave its citizens and well organized the forces at their command,
will inevitably defeat it. The Fyrd are too powerful, too well organized and led too well by General Quatremayne for a single city to be able to resist them. Recent history shows that to be true.
If the doughty Poles of Warsaw were defeated by the General . . .’

Brunte started in surprise, not guessing that Blut had chosen his example deliberately. He knew it was in Warsaw that Brunte had lost his family to the Fyrd forces commanded by Quatremayne.

‘. . . and subsequently put down in a cowardly and vile way, you can take it from me that the same story may soon be told of Brum, unless certain measures and safeguards are put in place
at once.

‘Nor will courage help you, even if your citizenry fights to the last hydden, male, female and child. If you attempt to fight the Fyrd on their own terms you will lose.’

He paused again, frowned and considered things for a few moments.

‘Forgive me for adding this comment, based only on what intelligence I have gathered from Jack here, on our journey through enemy lines to Brum, and what, very briefly, I have seen with my
own eyes since my arrival.

‘You are ill-prepared and the panic in the population concerning your leadership is, I’m afraid, justified.’

Brunte was looking furious and yet he remained silent.

Blut turned to him.

‘We have never met, Marshal Brunte, but I know a very great deal about you. I know what Quatremayne did personally to your family in Warsaw. Apologies are pointless in the face of such
horror but I make mine to you on behalf of the former Emperor and the Empire. If you now help lead Brum on the right course, I believe you will have your revenge upon a hydden who is our common
enemy.’

There was real anger and compassion in Blut’s voice.

‘However,’ he continued, ‘I also know that, though you will have done your best with the resources you have to ready this city’s defences, without real intelligence . .
.’

A look of hope came to Feld’s eyes.

Brunte simply leaned forward, his scowl retreating, his doubt weakening, his interest rising.

‘. . . you cannot get very far.’

‘We have a good deal of intelligence,’ responded Brunte. ‘Meyor Feld, explain.’

‘It is circumstantial rather than actual,’ said Feld, pulling a blue dossier nearer to him but not opening it, ‘and we are having to interpret field reports as best we can and
from those surmise the vital facts we need to know if . . .’

‘For you to have a proper counter-strategy in place?’ said Blut.

‘Precisely.’

‘Do you know the date set for the coming invasion?’

‘We can guess it.’

‘Do you know where it might start?’

‘No.’

‘Do you know the strength of the Fyrd forces and assets?’

‘To some degree, but . . .’

‘Would it be helpful to know at what times and exactly where their troops might arrive?’

‘Of course, but . . .’

‘And what their strategy for the containment of Brum and its subsequent governance might be?’

‘Yes, but this is . . .’

Blut permitted himself a slight smile.

‘If I were in your situation, gentlemen, faced by me I would first want to see my credentials for sitting at this table and then I would want to gain, as fast as hyddenly possible,
whatever intelligence I have that bears on these issues.’

The others looked around the table at each other. It was impossible not to agree with him.

‘Let us kill two birds with one stone and then, as rapidly as possible, put a strong strategy, based on the intelligence I am about to give you, in place and operational.’

Lord Festoon, who was taking his sudden displacement in good heart, and even feeling relieved about it, said, ‘What do you suggest?’

‘Time is of the essence. The intelligence I have needs to go to as few people as possible. On that I insist. I therefore suggest that the only people who remain in this room, before I
reveal what I must if you are to trust me and we can move forward, are . . .’

He looked round the table.

‘Lord Festoon, General Brunte, Meyor Feld, Jack here and Mister Pike. Do we have a scrivener to hand?’

‘Well, it wouldn’t be difficult to find . . .’

‘Who we can trust
absolutely
?’

‘There are two,’ said Jack. ‘One is Bedwyn Stort, but he may be hard to find given his present preoccupation with the gem of Autumn.’

Blut nodded. Jack had told him about that.

‘Which is, in my view, a matter of the utmost importance. We may lose a battle in Brum because our forces are limited, but finding the gem may very well win us the war.’

This statement seemed to galvanize feeling in the room even more, but Blut ignored that and turned back to Jack.

‘Yes . . . the best scrivener might be Thwart the Librarian, whom we all know to be trustworthy beyond all meaning of that word.’

It took only a few minutes for those not needed to vacate the room and for Thwart to be hurried over from his office in the Library across the Main Square.

‘I wish the doors to be closed and guarded on the outside,’ said Blut, sipping some water.

‘The intelligence you have . . .’ began Feld. ‘Is it somewhere nearby, in a scrivened form?’

‘It soon will be,’ said Blut, ‘
very
nearby. At present it is in my head.’

There was a look of disappointment between Brunte and his colleagues. Memory is an unreliable thing.

Jack grinned; Arthur had told him about Blut’s extraordinary memory.

Blut looked at Thwart and said, ‘Ready? This may take some time. Gentlemen, I suggest you listen carefully. What I am about to reveal to you is a testament of my sincerity and my position.
It will also form the basis of all future discussion of this Council of War, as you will see. So . . . now: Librarian, let us start.’

Then Blut began one of the most remarkable exercises in memory any of them had ever been witness to.

‘TOP SECRET. FINAL STRATEGY OF . . .’

It came out, minute after minute, the summary, the clauses, the detail, the footnotes, the four appendices – everything relevant to the impending Fyrd attack on Brum.

Nothing could have demonstrated Blut’s credentials better, nor could anyone afterwards deny the obvious thing: that he was indeed Emperor, he was a leader and that he had the interests of
Brum, and all it stood for, in mind before all else.

Nor did he let up when the dictation was over.

‘I do not intend that further copies of the dossier you have just heard in its entirety be made. One is enough. It is absolutely essential that none of you talks about what you have heard.
I cannot expect my arrival in Brum to remain a secret for long, but it would be good if Quatremayne does not hear of it until his campaign has begun. What I will require, for reasons that are
obvious, is that he has not even the slightest suspicion that his plans are known in such detail. We wish him to proceed exactly to the plan and strategy he has already set. On that will depend a
great many lives and, apart from the issue of the gem I have mentioned, the final outcome of this treacherous attack on Brum and Englalond.’

He reached out his hand to Thwart, who gave him all he had just scrivened.

‘Thank you, Librarian Thwart, I shall make quite sure that when this little matter is over to our satisfaction you receive this dossier back into your safekeeping for the Library’s
archive.’

He leaned back and breathed deeply, now obviously very tired. He had been awake for more than twenty-four hours. But he was not yet finished.

‘I have chaired many committees in my time, though never in a war situation. I will retire and leave you to decide what is to be done with me. I suggest you invite me back to take overall
charge of Brum’s strategy in the face of the illegal invasion led by Quatremayne. You see, gentlemen, this kind of thing is what I am trained to do and I do it very well, very
well!’

He got up to leave the room and had opened the door to do so when Festoon spoke, after an exchange of glances with Brunte.

‘I think . . .’ he began.

‘. . . that we can agree . . .’ continued Brunte.

‘. . . here and now . . .’

‘. . . that it is in all our interests, er, My Lord Emperor Blut . . .’

‘Plain Emperor will do,’ said Blut.

‘. . . that you take over . . .’

‘. . . take overall charge,’ concluded Brunte.

‘It will be for the best for all of us and our great city,’ said Festoon finally.

There was a murmur of approval and relief and Blut sat down again.

He said at once in a purposeful way, ‘I propose that we reconvene in three hours. By then our military arm, having reviewed the facts as Marshal Brunte will reveal them, can make their new
proposals for Brum’s defence, while our civilian arm can reconsider the best strategy for an orderly evacuation.

‘As for myself, I need to rest. When I have, with the help of yourselves, I shall create my own skeleton staff to aid me in administering such matters as are essential to my role.
Agreed?’

Again, a warm murmur of assent.

Yet there was one thing outstanding and it was Igor Brunte who raised it.

‘There was one thing missing in that strategy document.’

‘Yes?’ said Blut, eyes narrowing.

‘The date,’ said Brunte.

‘Aah . . .’ sighed Blut, ‘the date. I felt it wisest to miss it out. Best that you all assume it is tomorrow . . .’

A ripple of alarm spread round the table.

‘. . . or perhaps the next day . . .’

Blut smiled.

‘Do not worry. I know the date. It is not far off. When the right moment comes I shall reveal it.’

Soon after, as if by some general telepathic communication, the officials and clerks and some members of the general public in the building who seemed to have sensed that a moment of history in
the affairs of their city was taking place gathered in the foyer outside.

Someone reappeared at the door Blut himself had left ajar as he had ventured to leave. It was a double door, and someone else opened it and the other as well. A crowd very quickly gathered, some
even coming into the room as others came behind.

Blut saw it and smiled in a welcoming way. He did what Sinistral would have done. He spoke to them in a way that embraced them all.

‘Let me say one last thing,’ he concluded a little later. ‘In all our deliberations from now, whether here as a committee who will lead this great fight or those of you who
work in this building or beyond it, it will help if we try to see our endeavours as something more than the saving of a city.

‘I think few if any of you ever met the recent Emperor, my Lord Sinistral. I believe it may be true that his reputation in this great city, in which he was born and which he loved and
which he never ever intended should be destroyed in any way by Fyrd, is less than it should be.’

There were nods and grumbles of assent which Blut ignored.

‘But I know the former Emperor Sinistral, and have done for very many years, and I can tell you . . .’

He had let his voice swell and rise, though he spoke no faster, but in the same measured way.

‘. . . I can tell you all that he loved the city in which he grew up and always held the belief that Brum contained within the heart of its citizens the very essence of what it is to be a
true citizen of the Hyddenworld: freedom of the individual, liberty of thought and a profound sense of the need for equal justice for one and all.’

He paused again to let his words sink in.

The only sound was from outside the room, as yet more people came to see what was happening and whispered ‘Shush!’ to those who did not yet understand the full import of it all.

‘Marshal Brunte, Lord Festoon, my friend Professor Foale, and my new friends one and all,’ continued Blut gravely, ‘our enemy the Fyrd is at our gates. It has fallen to our lot
to be our generation’s champions of those ideals that true citizenship represents – champions not just for ourselves or this city but for every individual in the Hyddenworld.