The Birth of People's Republic of Antartica, стр. 16

“Where are my pups?” I tried.

“It’s my fault, all of it,” said Charity Bentham. She had regained herself, standing apart from her husband. Her hair was still mussed, her cosmetics ruined, which made her seem more vulnerable than was the case. Her compassion seemed genuine. That haughty Bentham look could mislead. She continued, “I should have explained to you earlier, Peregrine. We aren’t what and who we were. Meeting you tonight like that, it was wonderful, exciting. But I didn’t mean to upset you. What I said up there, about Cesare, it was only a speech. I didn’t prepare it with you in mind. How was I to know you would be here? We’re old enough now to forgive each other. Will you forgive me?”

“I won’t listen to your lies! Adultery!” cried Peregrine. I felt then that I did not know Father. Everyone jumped at his outburst, the guards outside flinging open the door. Skaldur reached over to take Peregrine by the shoulders. Past the guards, through the door, I could see Israel. It was just a flash, but I could see them all being escorted out of the chamber, much laughing and good humor from Thord and one of the guards. I supposed at the time, correctly, that they had been brought down for questioning like us, and since they had committed no crime, and since Rinse was a liar, they had been released. I wanted to call to Israel and Thord for help with Peregrine, then thought better of it, intuiting it was best to keep our transgressions separate and our familiarity a secret. I was right, though I wish now that I had risked it, cried out, bolted, done anything foolhardy.

Cesare Furore arranged two chairs before us. He indicated to his wife to sit, and when she hesitated, he sat himself neatly and began evenly, “We’ve known each other a long time, Peregrine. Twenty years? More. What’s happened is no one’s fault. People do grow apart. Things intervene that keep us from our dreams. This isn’t unusual. It doesn’t have to continue. A long time ago, when we first met at school, you told me—we were celebrating, after a Harvard game—you said, ‘It is what it is when it is.’ Do you remember? We’d gambled on a sure thing and lost. The game ended in a tie. I didn’t like what you said at the time. I’ve reconsidered since then.”

Cesare Furore went on like this about several other collegiate incidents, all cleverly nostalgic, finally returning to his theme.

“If you still believe what you told me, then what has happened to us must make sense to you. We’re old and dear friends. You and I have a lot in common. At least, we have had. Nothing has happened to keep us apart now. We aren’t enemies. We can work together on this. You know that anger isn’t a solution. What happened tonight, it is regrettable but totally understandable. You were overcome. We can learn from the past. It is possible. Your concerns are natural. I think this is all very sad.”

“Is this your son, Peregrine?” said Charity Bentham, sitting opposite me. She took Cesare Furore’s hand. Why did she have to do that? I do not excuse her. It was stupid, might have been cruel. I took my lead from Father, would not answer them.

“Let the boy go, Cesare,” said Peregrine, seemingly under control again. “You can do anything you want to me.”

“We don’t want to do anything to you,” said Cesare Furore. “You and your son, if he is your son, this boy, are free to go. Isn’t that correct, Mr. Skaldur?”

“What is your name?” said Charity Bentham to me.

Peregrine rattled the chains. He didn’t want me to name myself. Is this proof he knew what he was going to do? I think not. He was frightened, was being cautious. Cesare Furore thought Peregrine was objecting to our cuffs, ordered Skaldur to remove them. Skaldur hesitated, then compromised with his caution, releasing me, leaving the cuffs on Peregrine, so that he was free from the bench, not free to go.

“I want my dogs back,” I said.

“Go on. Get them. Get out,” said Peregrine. “Tell Izzie not to wait up, you know? It’s gonna be right, in the end.”

I stepped shakily to the door. Charity Bentham leaned back in her chair and studied me. Skaldur opened the door, looked hard at me, then told the guards to return my puppies and to escort me to the service exit. I tucked them back into my waistcoat. They had relieved themselves on the floor nearby—all that sugar—and the room reeked. It would have been funny if not for Peregrine’s posture. I turned to see Father’s face just as the door closed. He looked exhausted, stiff, hurt, and had one quality I could not identify. It was resignation. The last I heard, Cesare Furore had started talking again.

I walked through the archway, urged on by a guard behind me. Israel had straggled back from the rest and lingered at the exit, arguing with Rinse. It was a ruse, for as soon as he saw me he broke off and signaled me to follow at a distance. Once clear, Israel grabbed me and we sped around the corner, down the access road, and into Thord’s waiting sled. Earle hugged me, the puppies squealed, we all laughed at our escape. Orri drove us straight home, where Guy, Molly, and Thord welcomed us with tea and inquiries. I told them what I had witnessed in the Great Hall and what I knew of Charity Bentham and her husband. Thord made telephone calls through the night. That was how he heard the news. We were at breakfast. I do not remember my first reaction. I do not want to try.

Peregrine Ide murdered Cesare Furore. He strangled him. He crushed his windpipe. He hanged him, holding him at arm’s length above his head, using the short chain of the handcuffs as a garrote.