Archie shook his head. “No, sir. But it’s just me and me mum. I’m not really a orphan.”
“As I thought,” replied the man crisply. “And not a street rascal either, though no doubt well on your way. Here now—” Dipping his fingers into a waistcoat pocket, he withdrew a coin and flipped it to the ragged boy. “That is for telling the truth.”
Archie saw the glint of yellow metal in the fading light and caught the coin in midair. He opened his hand, and his eyes nearly started from his head. On his palm was a solid gold sovereign—a coin he had never seen before, but dreamed about often.
Clutching the coin, Archie extended the apple. “It’s too much, sir,” he said, his throat going dry. In truth, he knew there had to be a mistake, and when the man realised what had happened, he would cry thief and Archie would face a beating or worse—he’d be taken by the bailiff and thrown into gaol. “Please, sir, it’s too much. You made a mistake.”
“No mistake,” said the man, regarding him keenly. “Keep it.”
“Thank you, sir.” Archie whipped the coin out of sight.
The man still held him with a fierce attention. The boy squirmed, growing uncomfortable beneath such unwonted scrutiny. “How would you like a job?”
“I don’t understand, sir,” replied Archie, still holding out the apple.
“A job, lad—work and wages.” The man smiled suddenly. “There are more gold sovereigns to be had.”
Archie said nothing.
“Well? Come now! I could use a persistent, resourceful lad like you. How about it?”
“I don’t know how to do nuffin’—I mean, anything.”
“Do you know Marlborough House? Do you know where to find it?”
Archie shook his head. “No, sir.”
“Well, you’ll have to ask someone. Come to me there first thing tomorrow morning, and we will discuss your future.” He gave the boy a stern look. “Hear me, lad. This could be the most important decision you are ever likely to make. Do you understand me?”
Archie understood the part about more gold sovereigns, so nodded slowly.
“And you will come to me at Marlborough House?”
“I will, sir.”
“Good. I will take you at your word. When you come, ask to see Granville Gower,” said the man, taking the apple at last. “Until tomorrow, then.”
CHAPTER 13
In Which an Impossible Birth Is Celebrated
Serenity seemed to flow over Etruria in wave after wave, like the gentle surf of an endless ocean of blissful calm. Never had Xian-Li felt more at peace. Although she still had not felt the baby move, she no longer feared the worst.
Turms’ continued assurance that all would be well served as a restorative tonic. It was as if the ceremony performed by the king to learn the likely fate of the unborn child had driven off the clouds of doom and disaster that had gathered so thickly about her, and dispelled any lingering doubt. Since that night, everything had changed; she held the memory of the strange ceremony as a rare and precious gift.
They had stood in the temple portico before a small stone altar. The king was attended by a fellow priest and one identified as the netsvis; dressed in a blue robe with a tall conical hat similar to the king’s, he would conduct the augury. A few curious onlookers had also come to observe the ceremony.
In the last rays of the day’s sun, a young lamb had been brought to the temple, its legs bound with a golden cord, and laid upon the altar. After a brief incantation, Turms, splendid in a crimson robe and tall hat trimmed in gold, stooped low and thanked the animal for the sacrifice of its life. With a nod to Arthur and Xian-Li, he beckoned them to the altar and instructed them to place their hands upon the lamb. He then drew a knife made from black volcanic glass across its throat. The small creature lay still and expired without a sound. Then, while attendants eviscerated the carcass, a golden bowl in which some of the blood had been collected was passed to Turms.
He lifted the bowl and drank, then offered the bowl to both Arthur and Xian-Li. After she had taken a sip, he pointed to her stomach and said, “Open your gown just there.” She did as instructed and bared a section of her rounded belly. The Priest King dipped a finger in the still-warm blood and, with the tip of his finger, drew a small circle on her stomach; he dipped again and added a