Three Kings. Группа авторов
respect, Richard isn’t soft. He’s just not an arsehole.’ Green Man scoffed but she carried on quickly before he could reply. ‘Besides, a gay man might be just what we need on the throne. He’ll understand persecution and social injustice better than Henry ever could.’
‘He’s not gay, he’s a married man.’
It was Wayfarer’s turn to scoff. ‘Everyone knows he’s gay.’
‘It doesn’t matter either way. The crown doesn’t get passed on to the person with the most votes. It’ll go to the eldest as it always has.’
‘I think that’s a shame. We’re supposed to be living in a democracy.’
He sighed. ‘A corrupt democracy. Our elected officials get worse every year. I remember when our leaders were people of character, not these limp-wristed, career-minded …’ he searched for a suitable insult to finish his sentence, ‘lawyers!’
Wayfarer shook her head. ‘You can’t use “limp-wristed” like that. You sound homophobic.’
He’d long since learned to trust her on these matters, but it still irked him. He used to consider himself an expert on the use of language, and now it seemed as if the rules on what was and was not appropriate were changing too fast for him to keep up. ‘You know what I mean,’ he said peevishly. ‘In the old days we had politicians with morals. The kind you could be proud of.’
‘Like Churchill?’
‘Yes, now he was a real Prime Minister.’
‘And a racist,’ she retorted, ‘and a killer who ran death camps.’
Green Man nearly stood up, he was so surprised. ‘How dare you! Churchill was a hero.’ He was also the man who had charged Roger with the task of infiltrating the Twisted Fists in the first place. Roger had done so out of love for the great statesman and to secure his family’s future. Cruel fate had seen Churchill die while Roger was deep under cover, condemning him to a life as the Green Man.
‘Wait,’ said Wayfarer as she pulled out her phone. ‘Here are some things your hero said …’ She made only a few taps on the screen, suggesting that she had the quotes saved somewhere for an occasion just like this one. ‘“The Aryan stock is bound to triumph.” That’s not Hitler talking by the way, that’s Churchill.’
‘It’s hard for me to comment without context.’
‘He called Africans “savages”?’
‘Well,’ Green Man said weakly, ‘it was a different time back then.’
One eyebrow appeared over the top of Wayfarer’s sunglasses. ‘And when he fought the Kurds, he said: “I am strongly in favour of using poisoned gas on uncivilized tribes”.’
‘He really said that?’
‘Yes. He said it would,’ she made air quotes with her free hand, ‘“spread a lively terror”. And you should hear what he said about the Palestinians—’
Green Man raised a hand. ‘All right, I get the idea. Are you making a point with all of this?’
‘Yes.’ She slipped her phone away. ‘My point is that people get nostalgic about history. They forget what it was really like and it gets buried. All children learn is Churchill’s speech about fighting on the beaches and the fact he liked cigars.’
‘I see.’ Green Man had known Wayfarer long enough to know there was more going on. He waved a hand for her to continue.
She sagged a little. ‘The truth is, I know this sort of thing riles you and I wanted to stir you up a bit.’
‘Consider your gambit a success. Now, will you tell me why?’
‘You’ve been quiet lately, and I had a feeling the news was going to hit you hard. I’m sorry, I really am, but you should be out there. The Fists need to see more of their leader, especially now that King Henry’s put jokers on his agenda.’ When he didn’t reply, she added: ‘If you don’t say something, someone else will.’
‘What do you mean?’
She looked away. ‘There’s been some talk.’
‘Let me guess, Seizer?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s the old fool done this time?’
‘He’s saying you’ve gone soft, that you’re harking back to the time of the Black Dog.’
‘Let him. It’s all hot air.’
‘But the younger Fists don’t know what it was really like under the Dog’s rule. They’re scared of what’s going to happen and Seizer’s going to stir them up even more. You know what he’s like once he has a crowd.’
‘Fine. I’ll show my face and put this nonsense to bed, but not now.’
‘This afternoon then?’
He frowned. She’d been taking more and more liberties with him lately. ‘Don’t push me, Wayfarer.’
However, she didn’t back down as he had expected. ‘We need you.’
‘For goodness’ sake!’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘All right. Tomorrow.’
Alan shoved his way through the coats in the closet. They were heavy with damp: it had been raining hard outside Buckingham Palace and everyone’s coats bore the marks. This was ridiculous. Richard might enjoy playing like children at games of Narnia – what’s in the back of the wardrobe? – but he also had a perfectly comfortable flat for exactly this sort of thing, and there was no need for the two of them to fumble around in the dark. Just as Alan was thinking that perhaps he should give up and just go, Richard was there, hot hands sliding down into Alan’s trousers, a warm, wet mouth on his, fiercely eager. For a little while, Alan Turing stopped thinking at all.
Afterwards, Richard held up a phone, reflecting light and a camera so Alan could repair his make-up. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see a member of the Silver Helix looking badly tousled, or worse, silvery.
‘I’m really very fond of you, you know,’ Richard said, smiling. ‘My metal man.’
Alan’s throat tightened. ‘Can you imagine the uproar if your wife caught you with a joker? I don’t know if it’d be better or worse than her catching you with a man.’ Alan could joke about it now, play it lightly, but he’d never forget how he’d been treated during the war. Eight decades ago, but his memory was perfect, every humiliating incident recalled in excruciating detail.
Richard looked sober. ‘Worse, much worse. She and I have our understandings, but a joker might require additional negotiations. And if it went public—’
Alan nodded. ‘Yes, that would be a problem.’ He hesitated, then asked, ‘Are you going to respond publicly to what Henry said?’
His lover frowned. ‘I don’t know.’
Alan was fond of Richard. The Prince had a good heart inside that broad-shouldered body, a cheerful generosity that people couldn’t help but love. But after all these years, their on-again, off-again relationship had allowed Alan to know the Prince a little too well. Sometimes Richard needed a push, to be the man he ought to be.
‘Dickie. You can’t let the world think England’s royal family supports your brother’s bigotry. Your family serves as the moral compass for the realm.’
Richard hesitated, then said, ‘If I spoke up, do you think it would hurt my chances?’
‘Chances?’