‘No?’ Panin studied his surroundings for a moment before continuing; and (thought Tom) he didn’t need to be a genius either to understand its function or to guess that Audley was somehow lying in wait for him back in history. ‘But it would also be your period, my dear David—would it not? Those essays of yours which I so assiduously read before we last met, in those same old days—
on the crusading Kingdom of Jerusalem… That was the twelfth century, wasn’t it?’ Having finished with the bailey rampart, he scrutinized the motte itself. They were… if I may say so without Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State giving offence… not altogether unscholarly.‘ Now he was relating the position of the motte to the bailey. ’In fact, if those crusader castles had not conveniently crossed every frontier from Egypt to Turkey I might almost have thought that you were following Lawrence’s footsteps, and not misusing your scholarship in the service of your country’s needs.‘ He completed his survey, but did so facing Major Stan Laurel Sadowski, not Audley. ’Major… I do not like either of these ridges, as I have already said. But that across the valley is masked by the mound if we take but a few steps. So I would have you upon the ridge above us, while we transact our business?‘ He pointed up the hillside.
Major Sadowski indicated that he understood the English language not with a nod, let alone a word or any variation in his permanent expression of surprise-verging-on-tears, but simply by moving to obey Panin’s request without question or delay.
Panin watched him depart through Gilbert of Merville’s bailey gateway. “The advantage of having a Pole is that he does what he is told,‘ said Panin to the Major’s back. Then he came again to Audley. ’And, of course, my dear David, the poor creature has been overawed by your presence. And by our medieval crusaders of the twelfth century. And I’m sure he doesn’t know your T. E.
Lawrence from D. H. Lawrence—do you think Lady Chatterley’s Lover has ever been translated into Polish? I would think not, eh?‘
He continued to stare at Audley, but so fixedly that Tom felt he himself was very deliberately not being looked at, even though his reciprocal dismissal was now presumably what the Russian required.
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State
‘Oh… do you think so?’ Audley cocked his head, frowning slightly, as if the question was of importance. ‘ Lady Chatterley must have been… mid-1920s? And it must have been one of Lawrence’s last books, because he died in 1930. So Poland was still a free country then.’ Then he nodded, still frowning. ‘But the Catholics might have banned it, I agree.’ He drew a sudden breath and then sneezed explosively, and began to search for his handkerchief. ‘So you may well be right, at that.’ He buried his face in the handkerchief. ‘I do beg your pardon, Nikolai.’
‘You have a cold?’ inquired Panin sympathetically.
‘I have a cold.’ Audley nodded. ‘And Sir Thomas stays, Nikolai.’
Now Panin glanced at Tom, but then quickly returned to Audley.
They do not trust you even now, David? Even less than they trust me?‘
Sniff. ‘Nobody trusts me.’ The thought seemed to brighten Audley.
‘Not even my dear wife.’
The two old men considered each other in silence, and Tom decided it was time to hear his own voice again. ‘I think what Dr Audley means is that I’m not so good at doing what I’m told, Professor—unlike Major Sadowski—’ He realized too late, as he pronounced the name, that he had made the mistake of inflecting it correctly ‘—even though I am equally overawed by meeting the celebrated Professor Panin, naturally.’
‘Hah! And so you’d better be, Tom,’ agreed Audley. ‘Not every day do you get to meet an old Central Committee man who was dandled on the knee of Vladimir Il’ich Lenin as a baby, and given Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State a revolutionary blessing! Or is that just a story, Nikolai?’
‘It is just a story.’ Panin was giving his whole speculative attention to Tom now. ‘Vladimir Il’ich did not dandle babies on his knee.’
‘No—of course!’ Audley nodded agreement. ‘Only poor devils who have to win the proletariat vote have to dandle babies—of course! And your old dad fought with the White Army in any case, didn’t he? In the Semenovski Guards, was it?’
Panin continued to stare at Tom. ‘And I am no longer on the Central Committee.’ He ignored Audley’s flippancies. This place was a fortress, Sir Thomas. Correct?‘
Tom had just registered the Semenovski Guards: they had been among the Imperial guards regiments of the Tsar himself. So Audley was playing dirty, as was his custom. ‘Yes, Professor.’ He was tempted to leave it at that, but found that he couldn’t. ‘It was probably built by a man named Gilbert de Merville in the mid-1130s, who was a supporter of a great baron named Baldwin de Redvers. If it is, then it’s Mountsorrel Castle.’
Panin turned away for a moment, to the gorse-and-bracken-covered line of bailey ditch-and-rampart again, and then to the higher motte across the few yards of cow- hoofprinted and cowpatted expanse of coarse pasture which separated the bailey gate from the ditched motte overlooking the river crossing below. But when he came back to Tom there was something in his face, or behind his eyes, which betrayed an insight into what it had once been, before it had been trodden down and demilitarized by eight-and-a-half centuries of time and cows.
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State
‘So how is Mountsorrel Castle appropriate to us now, Sir Thomas?’
‘ Ah!’ Audley burst back into the conversation like a Cromwell finding its gap in the bocage at last. ‘Now… now what I meant, Nikolai… was not so much related to place, you see… Although this particular place is also not inappropriate—’ He gave Tom a quick sidelong glance ‘—it is an adulterine construction, is it, Tom?’
The question caught Tom off-balance. ‘I’m not sure, David—’
‘ “Adulterine”?’ The word unbalanced Panin too—quite understandably, thought Tom.
‘ “Illegal”, Nikolai.’ Audley didn’t want to be interrupted. ‘In the days of our strong kings, you couldn’t just put up a castle when you felt like it—you had to have a licence to build and crenellate…
