The Courier's Tale Read Online Free Page A

asked, and without getting drunk himself, in the process.
    ‘You cannot imagine the difficulties that present themselves at court every minute of the day,’ Sir George went on. ‘Suppose you meet an ambassador coming round the corner. In the twinkling of an eye, you must recall his rank, the power of his country, and whether or not they are friendly to us at that moment. If, for instance, you were to run into this Duke of Muscovy who is supposed to be on his way here, then you should greet him thus, ’ and he rose and turned and advanced on Rutter, smiling delightfully and twirling his hand towards him.
    ‘You see?’ he said, standing back to study the effect. ‘He is of exalted rank, but on the other hand he is from a very distant and barbarous land. In short, he is a kind of natural wonder, like the hippopotamus sent to the King of France, to which you may be as pleasant as you like without incurring any blame. If, on the other hand, it is the imperial envoy you bump into – a man of no rank, yet representing a great power – then you accost him thus’, he bowed low to Rutter, ‘unless, of course, the trouble over the excise has flared up, in which case you must do this —’ and, looking coldly at Rutter, he gave him a curt nod and turned on his heel.
    ‘You see how difficult it all is,’ he said, resuming his seat with a sigh. ‘It is exactly like the labyrinth described by the ancients, where the bull ate up the maidens. One must be cunning as a serpent and as watchful as a hawk. Above all, be discreet. There is your password: discretion .’
    I left Coughton after a week, promising that I would return very soon, though how this was to be achieved I was not sure. But the fact was I had fallen passionately in love with Judith, my second cousin, my Gloucester cousin. I blessed Gloucester first for having bred her and then for being so generous or careless as to give her up. This was my first love. Until then my love affairs had, it now seemed to me, been nothing but aping and mimicry. For several days Judith and I had ridden around Coughton together, over the meadows and into the woods, always with the nieces and nephews in tow, and never a word of love was spoken, but one day I thought: ‘Well, what more is needed? It is time I got married and there will never be anyone better.’
    Still I said nothing, being naturally sly and suspicious, as younger sons have to be. Judith was free to marry, or rather she soon would be. She was an orphan, and not even a penniless one. In the meantime, my brother was her guardian. I knew he would stand in my way – it was in his nature, he couldn’t help himself – but I also saw that Judith had a temper, and could stamp her foot at him and make him quail, for I had seen her do it.
    I was almost certain that she returned my feelings. The gleam of merriment in her eyes was not just amusement. She was happy to be in my company for another reason. One night, sitting up late by the fire, she taught me a game of cat’s cradle – the most complicated cat’s cradle ever known, she said, in the world, or at least in Gloucester – in which, after many bewildering manoeuvres with a loop of silk ribbon, two lesser loops chase each other over the knuckles of the hand, and then, on the verge of parting for ever, they meet and embrace.
    One of the loops, she said, was a woman, and the other was a man. For an hour that night we sat side by side, with our fingers like so many troopers, engaged in marches and counter-marches. Several times Judith burst out laughing at my clumsiness and several times she gave up the tuition completely, saying I was beyond all hope. I for my part was somewhat distracted by her lowered eyelids, the nimbleness of her fingers and a certain aspect of her upper lip. In fact, just as I was about to give up the tuition and lean forward and kiss her, Sir George came stamping in with his candlestick, and began raking out the fire and banging the shutters open