ASSOCIATION / CH. 11:GUESTS

FRIDAY 5TH JAN 2272, 6P.M. THE PALACE

'The royal apartments' sounded very impressive and Dan wouldn't have been very surprised to see golden ornamentation, and crystal chandeliers, but at least he'd expected beautifully carved wood paneling and ancient furniture. The furniture was about the same vintage as his parents', the carpets, well, they were carpets. It looked like they'd been nice, once. Maybe when Albert was born? In fact, the royal apartments looked ... how could he describe them? Tatty wouldn't be quite fair, not yet. Lived in, might be the best term. And maybe in need of an extra pair of hands to help keep them clean. All in all, he decided it looked like the home of a couple of civil servants.

“Surprised?” he whispered to Catherine as they were shown to the dining room. It had a table for eight at a squeeze. There were scratches on the legs as though an active child had driven toy cars up and down them. Caroline guessed he had been called Albert.

“Slightly.”

“Oh, hello!” Eliza greeted them, getting up from a console. Dan recognised the model; he'd replaced one like it a few years before, because it was getting old and unreliable. “Albert, our guests are here! Thanks for bringing them, Pam,” she thanked the lady from reception who'd led them there.

“Welcome, welcome!” Albert said from the kitchen “I'd come and shake your hands but I'm afraid this might burn. Mother and Father will be along soon.”

Dan indicated the computer “Top secret affairs of state?”

“No, praise God. I've actually been getting some research done.”

“Oh, your M.A.?” Catherine asked.

“Yes. I've come to an important discovery, by the way. It's unrealistic to try and do academic research when you're almost a member of the royal family and you're living in the capital. It worked when I was in Restoration, just about. But the time I've gained in not commuting has been more than filled by all these wonderful crisis meetings. And you have to be involved, because it's a crisis.”

“But crisis meetings only happen at time of crisis, surely?” Dan asked.

Albert laughed from the kitchen, “Sorry, Dan. You've heard the thing about clutter growing to fill the available space? Crisis meeting obey the same law. It's just at the moment most of the crisis meetings are about getting ready for the impact, rather than foreign events and education and the like. And of course, since we're going to be trying to get away from it all after next Saturday, they've been generously trying to bring them forward so we can take part in them.”

“Who's the they?” Caroline asked.

“Ministers, civil servants, parents.” Albert said.

“Did I hear our cue?” Caroline heard from behind her, and turned round to see the King and Queen. She hadn't expected them to be in full regalia, but she was very surprised to see them in track suits.

“We'll be more presentable soon.” the king reassured the open-mouthed kids. “My dear wife has just been throwing me round the gym, as usual.”

“You're getting better, dear, really you are.”

“You keep saying that. I notice that I'm always the one whose holds are broken and who spends most of the time on the defensive.”

“I've had more practice than you have, that's all. And I'm not that much better than you now, don't exaggerate.”

“Spaghetti will be cooked in five minutes.” Albert warned.

“Oops. To the shower for us then.” the king said, and they disappeared into their private rooms.

The kids' mouths were still hanging limply open.

Catherine pushed them shut with a finger.

Eliza explained, “Her majesty used to be in Security, you know, and won awards for unarmed combat. She says that sparring with his majesty keeps them both fit.”

Albert added “And of course, if someone from Security were to spar with Dad and, say, accidentally give him a nose bleed, then they'd be in a lot more trouble than Mum would be.”

“Is that a tradition you intend to keep up?” Dan asked Eliza.

“Probably not, but maybe when I'm better. Like Albert said, you've got to do something to keep fit, and knowing some self defence might come in handy some day.”

“I thought you had body-guards for that sort of thing?” Dan asked.

“We do, and we don't ever expect to need to defend ourselves. But, things do go wrong sometimes. It's called contingency planning.” Albert said. “I'm not sure if Security are going to say this is off limits for publishing. It might come into the same category as other security arrangements. But you can certainly write about seeing them in tracksuits fresh from their evening exercise if you want to.”

“I must say, these rooms aren't quite what I expected, either.” Caroline said.

“The state rooms are decorated, cleaned, polished, and so on by state money," Eliza explained. “These rooms aren't. Their majesties income is a matter of public record, only they don't get the opportunity to economise by going bargain hunting.”

“Speaking of bargain hunting, I'll not be surprised if this a taboo subject, but you did a wonderful job of upsetting the fashion industry a few weeks ago.” Caroline asked. “Am I allowed to ask about what you're wearing for the infamous going away outfit?”

Eliza smiled. “You can ask, but I can't tell you. I don't know exactly.”

“You don't know?”

“I've asked some trusted friends to do the shopping for me. They know what size I am and roughly what I want.”

“Oh. Wow, that's trusting.”

“Not much more trusting that letting some designer come up with something unsuitable. I mean, I admit I'm biased, but I think the only time you'll ever catch me wearing trousers is if I'm digging the garden or something messy and physical like that. I've made that bias clear. So, what do at least half of the designers come up with for my going away outfit? A trouser-suit. As for the other half, well, if you haven't noticed, it's quite cold outside, that's because it's this time of the year called winter. I thought most people knew about seasons, but it seems that the designers who didn't come up with trouser suits haven't got that far in their education yet. They thought that a my ideal going away dress should be not just sleeveless but strapless too. Just right for the sub-zero conditions that the weather forecast is predicting, don't you think?”

Caroline laughed, “Oh, that was wonderfully put! I wish I had asked to record you saying that. No wonder you sent them packing. I do wonder what the high fashion industry costs the country per capita. I mean, I can't imagine that it actually contributes much to society other than helping advertising agencies spend and keeping gossip columns full.”

“I don't think I'm allowed to comment on the merits of certain portions of our industry.” Eliza said. “Oh, I probably exaggerated about the designers. I think there were one or two that weren't that unsuitable. But really, the entire competition thing was so obvious. Some chose to go for glamorous, the others for practical, all were expecting their work to win them the entry into a second round or something like that. Maybe it would have worked with months and months before the wedding, but it seemed like they were expecting me to wear whatever they managed to produce out of a hat at the last minute.”

“Isn't that what you're going to get anyway?”

“Not quite. First off, these are friends already, secondly they're going to present me with options, and if they make a really really bad choice on the skirts or blouses then I can wear something else.”

“And who they are is a strictly guarded secret?”

“Yes. Albert knows, my bodyguard knows, their majesties haven't asked.”

“So it's a bit of a pick and mix?”

“Yes. No two things from the same shop.” Eliza confirmed.

“And Maribelle, the keeper of the royal wardrobe, threw up her hands in disgust and said she'd retire,” Albert said.

“No she didn't, Albert. That was when the designers came up with such rubbish for what was supposed to be final designs. She suggested I do it the way I'm doing it.”

“Anyway, dinner is served. By the way, archery is definitely on for those interested and under eighteen.”

“Why the age limit?” Eliza asked.

“Because I was told I couldn't abandon our guests to join in, and if I can't then I don't think you can either Eliza.”

“You're talking about the archery? It's ages since I've done any.” commented the King.

“I don't suppose our guests would like to try a little?” the queen asked, wistfully.

“If they don't, I'm sure Eliza wouldn't mind giving lessons some other time.” Eliza said.

“Come on, auntie, it'll be fun!” Jim urged.

“Well, I've no objections. Dan?”

“Actually, I'd love to.” Dan replied.

“But then we've got you here under false pretenses, and we can't have that.”

“Tell you what, Dad, you could tell Dan all about God while we eat the spaghetti, which is getting cold, by the way, and then you can eat while we're playing with the lethal weapons.”

“Heated debate about deeply held beliefs, the monarch, two convinced republicans and lethal weapons. What could possibly go wrong?” Catherine's niece, Jemimah, asked.

“I'm not actually very sure how convinced I am, but let's leave that subject for now.”

“Then, Catherine,” Eliza asked, “Can I ask you something that's possibly taboo in exchange for you learning the secrets of my going away outfit?”

“Go ahead, as long as I can refuse to answer.”

“Were you teased a lot at school? I mean, didn't your parents make the connection with the other Catherine Parr, sixth wife of Henry the Eighth? I presume your class-mates must have.”

“Actually, I was really proud to be named after the one who survived. And she was an intelligent woman — first ever queen to publish anything in English.”

“Yes, she was. A great reformer.”

“That too. So, no, I wasn't teased. Well, they tried, but it's very hard to tease someone of something they're proud of.”

“That's true. Well done.”

“If we're leaving constitutional issues until we're better armed.” the Queen asked “Where do you stand on the great God debate?”

“Agnostic/deistic, as in not convinced about a first cause.” Catherine replied.

“But you really don't think God intervenes?” the queen asked. “Say, to tell us about incoming space rocks or arrange for you to come to give advice about the carpets? How did you know, by the way?”

“How did I know what?”

“That the carpets will need replacing?”

“I had no idea, Maam. I was being entirely facetious. And to be honest, I'd assumed that the gilded cage had a little more glitter in it.”

“Oh we can show you the glitter later, that's in the state rooms for visitors we need to impress. But really, do you have any idea how long all that ornate carving takes to keep clean?”

“Hmm, that's the other thing, I'd assumed an army of cleaning staff, cooks, and the rest.” Dan said.

“That's for the state rooms and state occasions. This is home.” the King said. “And do you know what good cleaning staff cost these days? That'd really cut into the household budget.”

“I don't know how you manage it.” Catherine said, in admiration. “I'd assumed you put in long hours but everything was laid on for you.”

“It helps, actually, to have some domestic concerns. There's nothing like a leaking tap to fix to take your mind off an imminent melt-down in international politics.” the king said “And in case you're wondering, no there aren't enough dripping taps for every crisis.”

“Sir, are you speaking literally — your majesty does your own plumbing?”

“This is our civil-service provided home.” The queen said. “We have the same options as any other civil servant: we can do things ourselves or we can pay for a professional. We have two wardrobes — one for official wear and one for our own clothes. Any clothing that's given to us by a designer or shop is automatically official wear. We pay for our own holidays, our own furnishings and our own furniture, and we're not allowed to go into debt. So yes, since plumbers are in short supply and my husband learned how to fix taps and the like from his father, we don't have to buy in that service. But, because we're all a bit too busy to clean everywhere every week, we do get in a cleaner to help every few months. As you can see, it's about time.”

“Maam, can I ask, why do you do it?” Jemimah asked.

“Do what?”

“You're rushed off your feet, you'd have more freedom and more privacy in practically any other job, why don't you do something else?”

“Because someone has to run the country, and there isn't anyone I can think of who'd do a better job than my husband.”

“It's our duty.” Albert said. “It isn't really something I'm looking forward to, but as Mummy says, the alternative is someone else doing it, and they would have no idea what they're letting themselves in for, not really. They'd think about the public side of things, and think, 'I can do that', but the stuff you don't see would wear them down. There's two reasons that the most stable republics had a limit on how long someone could be president for.

"One was because they had a nasty tendency to treat the national treasury as their personal bank account and fill their own pockets, and the other was that if they were doing the job right, it wore them down. You look at the old pictures: they entered young-looking and full of vigour, and only four or eight years later they were old and grey. That isn't just because they were older, it was because of the pressure. They weren't used to it, and it hit them like a hammer. Eliza and I have many many years, I hope, to get used to being on the edge of it. To cope with crisis after crisis, so that it becomes almost normal for us, and we'll hopefully build up coping mechanisms and ways to relax and let off steam so we don't crack. If Dad abdicated, then he knows I've been getting ready for it, but I'm not really there yet.”

“You'd cope, Albert, you're doing pretty well.” his father interrupted.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad. But if we asked someone who'd just got the job by election? That's a very nasty thing to do to anyone. It'd be like taking a new recruit and telling them they're director of the company. But it's worse, because at least in a company you don't normally get politicians around each saying 'I have a clear mandate from the people of my constituency to bring about such and such a change.' when their changes look attractive in the short term but in the long term they're not so wonderful. Sorry, Catherine, you wanted us to stay on religion, didn't you?”

“I did, but thank you. In summary, you're saying that the royal family are sticking at the job because although it's a nasty job, someone's got to do it, and you don't think it'd be fair to ask anyone else to?”

“Not fair on the individual, and not good for the country either.” the King clarified. “But yes, there have been plenty of times I wanted to be very selfish and leave the problem for someone else. But my sense of duty doesn't let me. Or failing that, my wife's.”

“The good of the country needs you to be thinking twenty years ahead, or more.” the queen said. “I'm not saying we're perfect, but how can a politician who needs to win an election in a few years really plan for what's best twenty years ahead? He'll lose the election to someone whose policies have more short-term appeal and his carefully thought out policies won't be carried through. Maybe they can at the end of their careers, but I think you'd object to an enforced gerontocracy. Or restricting voting to people who have grandchildren.”

“The other benefit of a monarchy is that rule until death or old age means that the ruler has no necessary interest in lining their pockets for when they leave power. You can look at the age of chaos to see how that worked with presidents.” Eliza added “And you've remarked on the lack of gold, servants, and other things that get called the trappings of power. That's actually in the constitution, but people don't realise it often.”

“More attention needed to those clauses by the press, hint, hint.” the King added with a grin.

“Don't worry, I'm thinking I might need to write a whole series of constitutional articles.” Catherine said. “And then I might need to offer my resignation from the Post.”

“Maybe there'll be an opening at the royal press office you could apply for instead.” the queen said.

“Hey, don't go corrupting my girlfriend.” Dan protested.

“Ooooh!” Jasmin said “Does mummy know you've got a boyfriend, auntie?”

“No, Jasmin, not unless she regularly reads five pages into comments on Dan's articles, like his highness here.”

“I don't normally read that far.” Albert said.

“But I do love a nice bit of romance,” said the Queen, “and you getting an invitation wasn't nearly so miraculous from our point of view, Catherine.”

“Ah-ha! So it's all a royal plot to win me over to your side and spread joy and happiness where there's been cynicism and playing hard-to-get is it?” she asked.

“That sounds a reasonable approximation, doesn't it love?” the king asked.

“I think so.”

“Out of interest, how many people have discovered that your highness cooks excellent spaghetti bolognese?”

“Not many. I don't like to repeat recipes very often, and I don't cook that often. But, as far as invitations to see the state of the furniture, I'm not sure. It's not that common.”

“We make about one out of the blue invitation every couple of months,” the King said. As for how we pick on people, there's no formula I'm aware of.”

“But Catherine, you haven't answered about God intervening.” Eliza said.

“If I say he doesn't, then I'm calling my hosts liars, and I don't think you are. If I say he does then that's not consistent with my stated position. Can I just admit that I don't know?”

“Or don't want to know?” Dan prompted. “As your majesty reminded us, we like to hide from things we know are true because they're not convenient.”

“So, by saying you'd listen to me about it, you were in fact expressing your lack of desire to confront reality?”

“Urm yes, sir. I suppose I might have equally said something more on the lines of listening to Roland Underwood after he's turned to God. Verysorry if that's offensive, Maam.” he added to Eliza.

“Until lunchtime, that would have been painful, rather than offensive. Now?” she laughed, “You're running out of excuses, Dan. Do you really want to talk to my father about God? It's possible, but right now it's probably far far easier to talk to my almost father-in-law.”

“Do you mean to say that your father has turned to God?” Catherine asked.

“Yes. He has. He's also given me what is possibly the third the lamest excuse I can imagine about why he never sent me a birthday card.”

“Oh, what's that?” Albert asked.

“He says he didn't know when it was. I mean, public records exist, and failing anything else he could have written and asked me, sometime in the last decade, couldn't he?”

Albert laughed “I can see the headlines: 'Master criminal couldn't work out how to find out public records.'”

“But actually... I don't want to publish that without his say so.” Eliza said “It's a bit humiliating for him, I think. Or it should be.”

“May we publish that he's become a Christian?”

“Yes. But I'd assume you'll need to contact him or maybe the prison chaplain concerning any details. Oh hold on... there are other people involved too... I wonder if someone needs to work out a statement everyone's happy with.”

“I expect so.” Albert agreed. “You can't just go publishing bits of someone's life story without asking.”

“I thought that was what the press did all the time?” the queen said provocatively.

“The gutter press, maam.” Dan said.

“Doesn't that include us?” Catherine asked.

“Oh I don't think so, we're frequently sarcastic, and often disrespectful, but we don't stoop that low.”

“You mean you're not going to run your write up on the royal apartment with the headline 'Post journalist was right, says queen: need to pull rugs out from under royals' feet.'?” asked prince Albert.

Dan and Catherine looked at each other in surprise, and Jemima sniggered.

“Very witty, dear.” the queen said with a smile.

“I'm not sure....” Dan started.

“He's not sure he'd dare suggest loving the idea,” Catherine interpreted, “for fear of seeming an ungrateful guest.”

“It might get quite a few readers.” agreed the king. “Like you say, you're a little bit disrespectful. But you're here because your honest with it. As long as the article makes it clear that we're really talking carpets, why not? Too much respect gets cloying.”

“If you're sure? It would be an excellent headline.” Dan asked.

“I won't claim copyright.” Albert said.

“Maybe you should.” Eliza teased “It might be an interesting experience for their readers to see that the royal family also has a sense of humour.”

“You're really out to break down our stereotypes, aren't you?” Catherine asked.

“Not all of them. Only the ones that are wrong.”

“Urm, which ones are OK?”

“Albert? You've read more of their articles.”

“I'm not actually sure. I think there's quite a grain of truth in you saying that some channels don't dare say anything against us for fear of some kind of subtle reprisal. I was half afraid of that when there was no editorial comment about father's speech. That turned out to be another issue, though.”

“I thought a lot of the royal correspondents were worried their tickets to your wedding would get cancelled, Albert.” the queen said.

“Speaking of which, if your father has become a Christian, does that mean that he's no longer considered a risk and could attend the wedding?” Dan asked Eliza.

“If it was only the risk, then he'd probably have been there anyway.” Eliza said. “It's also what he stood for. He wanted the sort of monarchy everyone should hate. He still represents that concept, of seeking power at any price in people's minds. He probably always will. That's not an idea that I'd welcome at my wedding. Well researched, cynical fun-poking, however is an idea I'm perfectly happy with. So if you don't think it'll cost you your readership, the Post is invited to send a correspondent or two. I met someone a few weeks ago who boldly claimed to be a republican, but he was still fighting old battles. He hadn't actually read the constitution at all.”

“Maybe we need another term, so that we don't keep getting lumped with the megalomaniacs.” Albert said.

“You've got one, your highness.” Catherine said “The constitution declares the state to be a constitutional servant-monarchy. What I see here is just that. But people seem to have forgotten it. And if I'm given the choice of absolute monarchy, constitutional monarchy (which can mean anything), and a republic, I'd choose a republic. What I'm realising is that servant-monarchy is none of the above.”

“You know why, don't you?” the queen asked, her eyes were sparkling.

“I expect I'm going to regret asking.” Dan said, noticing that.

“We're back to your least favourite topic, Dan. Servant-leadership is not ultimately derived from greed, and hunger for power, like the others. It's based on what's best for others combined with a respect for individual freedom. That's not a particularly human train of thought, but it does appear in one book or set of books quite a lot.”

“Let me guess, the Bible?”

“Exactly. Jesus says all sorts of things about leaders having to be servants. Unfortunately very very few rulers ever got it, and when they did, their people didn't let them enact it as a law for future kings. Or if they did the kings said, nope, I've got the right to tear it up, so there.”

“I think one of the most telling passages is where Jesus washes the deciple's feet.” Albert said. “It was the job of the lowliest slave, and we know that there were animals on the street and I'd just bet that nine times out of ten someone had probably accidentally stepped in something nasty. So the passage doesn't say 'no one else wanted to do it so Jesus reluctantly washed their feet so they'd just stop their endless bickering for once.' No, it says something like 'Knowing that he had absolute power and authority over all creation, and that his position was totally secure, Jesus got everything ready and washed their feet.”

“You're saying you can serve because you're secure?”

“I think, personally, we're secure because we serve. But yes, it helps.” the King said “Look at how many stupid decisions people take because they don't feel secure. The whole political party thing is because individuals don't feel very secure on their own. Look where that got our country. I think the craziest thing in the world is how people, myself included until recently, refuse to trust the loving creator and sustainer of the universe.”

“I think it's because we know he's got ideas about good behaviour.” Jemimah said.

“And we resent that from our parents, you mean?” the queen asked.

“Yes.”

“And when we grow up we impose the exact same restrictions on our own children as we resented when we were young.”

“Why? Why do parents do that?” she demanded.

“Because,” Eliza replied “Mothers talk to fathers and fathers to mothers and they listen to each other and say really? and then decide that maybe those restrictions they hated are a very good idea for keeping their children safe, happy and healthy in the long term. Even when the children can't see what the problem might be. God, of course, doesn't need to talk to anyone to know what the long term effects are. Being outside time he can see them.”

“What do you mean, God is outside time?”

“The Bible says that to God a thousand years are like a day and a day like a thousand years. It also says that God made the everything that we can see and not see. About two thousand years ago a clever man worked out that that meant time too. We're vaguely aware of time, depending on what it's for. For example I noticed that I was hardly ever aware of time passing when I was reading past my bed-time, or putting off my homework, but when I was waiting for my mum to make me lunch then I was very aware of how long it should take her to cook it.” Jemimah grinned.

Jim added “Or how long your sister's in the bathroom.”

“I never had that problem, but I'm sure you're right. So, we're aware of time. We see it go, we can't get it back, and we can't nip ahead to next week to see what the history exam is going to be about so we need to waste our time revising stuff we won't actually need for the exam. Time restricts us. But if God made it, then either he's really thick, like the man in the story who builds himself a house without a door, or it doesn't restrict him.”

“So God's got a time machine?” Jim asked.

“He doesn't need one. Imagine there's a noticeboard somewhere, and it's not too big for you to touch all of it. Do you need a special machine to put a note at the top of a noticeboard, another one at the bottom and then a third one back at the top again? Of course not. But if there was a little creepy crawly bug that couldn't climb up, but just kept on going down, what you just thought of as being dead easy would seem really incomprehensibly amazing.”

“And God's like that?”

“From what I understand, physics tells us that he almost has to be, if he made the universe. Because you don't get space without time or time without space. But the theologian got there a long time before the physicist. So, if there's someone who really really loves you, and can see all of time as easily as you can see the whole of that noticeboard, don't you think it's worth trusting that person when he says don't do that or it'll end in tears?”

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

“Yeah. But does he love us?” Jemimah asked.

“Yes.” Eliza said, entirely confidently, “and he intervenes, and he gives good things to his people, and answers prayers, and he sets thing in motion to answer prayers before we even pray them.”

“So, if God's outside of time, why did Lazarus die?” Dan asked. “Couldn't his family have been saved the pain of him dying? How was it to anyones benefit that they suffer like that. And why did Jesus delay, and not rush there as soon as he heard his friend was sick?”

“Does everyone know the passage Dan's talking about?” Albert asked.

“Roughly.” Catherine said.

“Then I suggest that someone reads it, after we've finished getting our fingers sticky with these delicious cakes, made by my father according to an ancient recipe, handed down from generation to generation.”

“And then posted on the net where I found it last week.” the King added. “They turned out pretty well, didn't they? And yes, there are more in the tin, so everyone who at heart is a starving teenager can have a second one. But I warn you, they probably have more calories in than you're expecting.”

“Hmm. I can taste them.” Eliza said “There's no bulking agent in them at all is there?”

“Eggs, flour, sugar, butter, cocoa and more sugar. Not in that order by weight, either.”

“Wow. Pure calories on top of too much pasta. Maybe I shouldn't then. It's not like I'm walking as much as I used to, I'll start getting fat.” Eliza said.

“It's a real risk.” the queen agreed. “Transitioning to palace lifestyle cuts down your walking enormously. You do need to make time for exercise, sorry.”

“Anyway, I'm not going to eat another, so I'll get a Bible.” Eliza said, heading for the bookshelf.

“A paper version?” Dan was surprised.

“Yes. It's a lot slower if you need to search for something, of course,” Eliza said, opening it to John, “But if you know where the passage is, you can get there quickly, and it doesn't have problems formatting the page or with an overloaded connection, or with the battery level being low, or with you pointing at something and it deciding to want to turn the page, and all the other little annoyances that might distract you if you tried to use a wrist unit. Here we are.” She read it.

“You've read that very nicely.” Jim said, then blushed bright red.

“Thank you.” Eliza replied. “I've practiced.”

“Now, who noticed some things which didn't really make sense?” Albert asked.

Dan said, “He delayed because he loved them. Did the translators get the wrong word?”

“His disciples didn't get it.” Jemimah said.

“The mourners didn't get it.” Jim said, not to be outdone.

“I get the feeling no-one got it.” Catherine said, “Including the translators.”

“I have to admit that our pastor has just did a three-sermon series on this passage recently.” Albert said.

“Oh, typical!” Dan exclaimed “Who keeps loading the dice against me?”

“Maybe it was God making sure that prince Albert would be able to answer your questions.” Jemimah suggested.

“Or maybe God just made you think of the story.” Jim countered.

“Who's side are you two on?” Dan asked plaintively, drawing a laugh from Catherine.

“Who suggested the archery? I'm on their side.”

“That'd be me.” Albert said. “So, summarizing about an hour and a half into lots less, the translators did a good job. It's just our expectations and priorities that are wrong. Note that Jesus stayed two days and Lazarus was had been dead four. Thus without him doing a miracle of timing, he wouldn't have got there on time anyway. Note that even the crowd who didn't get it thought that if Jesus had got there, then healing him would have been easy for him. In other words, Jesus and healing people were so hand in hand that it didn't surprise anyone at all. It had stopped being a miracle, in fact, it had just become something that Jesus did. Imagine someone telling you 'I went to the dentist, and he had this buzzy thing which made a hole in my tooth and he put something in it, and my tooth hasn't hurt since.' You'd say, 'yeah, so what? That's what dentists do.' But they've only done that for the past few hundred years. They used to strap you down to a table and pull your teeth out while you screamed your head off, unless they hit you in the head to knock you out first. A wonderful advance of medicine is now boring. So, they expected Jesus to heal, just like Dan does, who doesn't even believe in God. A miracle of healing would have been boring, nothing to see. Just Jesus healing someone else, no big deal, that's what he does. A miracle of Jesus getting there on time would be even less significant, they'd have just said 'Great, Jesus, we just sent someone to find you, what a coincidence...' But Jesus' miracles were for a purpose, to show people who he was, so what would be the theological point of a timing miracle like that?”

“Not much.” Dan admitted.

“Same goes for a healing from a distance. OK, spectacular, but he'd done it before, no big deal. He'd even raised people to life before. But because other prophets had brought people back to life again — that just confirmed that Jesus was a prophet. But the miracle people were talking about was healing the man born blind, because no one had done that before. It must be a bigger miracle. Or was it? Who knows. People probably debated it as an interesting point of theology. But raising someone back to life after four days, that was impossible. Up to three days? That was OK, because the people of the day thought that the soul stayed near the corpse for three days. But after four days? The soul was definitely gone to the place where dead souls went to wait for judgement, rot had set in in the body, no way is that guy coming back to life. So Jesus makes sure that he gets to Lazarus four days after he's been buried. Because he loved the family. Because he wanted them to have conclusive proof that he wasn't just the first miracle-working prophet in Israel for hundreds of years, but he was God on earth. He was backing up his words with actions that no one could argue them out of. And why was he upset and angry? Because the crowd were blotting out thought with all their professional-grade wailing, and the people he'd spent time with, taught, explained things to, just followed the crowd and gave up as soon as death came. They called him lord, but forgot that Jesus is the resurrection and the life, and they were acting like they'd never see Lazarus again. No wonder Jesus wept; these friends of his were in deep trouble: they hadn't just lost their brother, but their faith and hope had all but evaporated too. And unless anyone wants more, I guess we can evaporate or at least go away from here, in the direction of the archery lessons.”

“Don't you think we should ask Eliza if we can all descend on her?” Eliza asked.

“I suggest what we can do is give a little tour of the official bits of the palace, and then ask when we get there.” the Queen countered,

“No, I agree with Eliza, let's give her a few minutes to think about it.” the King replied. “eight students is very different to two.”

“Yes, but we know she's flexible,” countered the queen.

“But we don't want her to snap, and this is a favour she's doing us. Let's be polite. Albert, can you? I presume that Nigel will be lending a helping hand.”

“Of course, father.” Albert said, and touched his wrist unit's call button “Hi, Nigel, we're guessing that you're making sure that Eliza doesn't get too lonely while we idle away the time here, is that right?”

“Urm, yes, that's one way of putting it. Are you ready for her to come and get the kids?”

“We were thinking that we'd give all four of the guests the guided tour, so we can keep on chatting, and we also have this itsy-bitsy request for Eliza to consider while we're coming: would she like another six students?”

“Urm... right. I'll ask.”

“You don't sound too hopeful.”

“Too many students makes for too many accidental targets.” Nigel said. “But like I said, I'll ask.”

“Thanks.” Albert said.

“How many extra students?”

“It sounds like the entire dining party: Six more students, I presume we're talking the two invitees, their majesties, plus Albert, and Eliza.”

“Hmm. Great opportunity for the republicans to attempt regicide, don't you think?”

“Oh, don't! I was just thinking that there'd be lots of opportunity for someone to be helpful and collect arrows just as someone was about to loose.”

“Or someone manages a really really good fumble and shoots at ninety degrees.”

“So, you're going to say no, I take it?”

“Of course not.” Eliza said with a grin. “I'm just going to insist that you are guarding the onlookers, while I'm concentrating, one on one. As long as they stay well back.”

Looking about the room, which was alternatively used as a target range for training in various combat situations and as an indoor sports or fitness area, Nigel wondered how he could confine his monarch's impulses to try to be helpful without telling everyone to sit like good children on the crash mats. “How about we pull out the changing screen and ask that they stay behind that?”

“Hmm. Possible, but they can't watch, can they? How about next door instead? Not so much disturbing sound if they're chatting, the door is more arrow-proof than the screen, they can look through the window, and of course it makes controlling wanderers very easy for you.”

“Have I told you you're marvelous recently?”

“Yes, Nigel, but you can say it again.”

“You're marvelous. As well as beautiful.”

“You are in love, so I'm not sure you're a good judge of that.”

“But I thought you were beautiful before I fell in love with you.”

“Hmm. OK, so I used to be beautiful, and now you're biased.”

“Would you prefer that I fall out of love with you so that I can give you an unbiased opinion?”

“Of course not.”

“That's good. I don't plan on doing it.”

“I'm glad. I do acknowledge that my appearance probably hasn't changed much in the past couple of weeks. It's just that, you know, I'm just thinking that eventually it will. And one day you might stop being biased. And then where will I be?”

Nigel thought about it. From his point of view he couldn't really imagine her losing her beauty until she was fifty or sixty, and even then, according to his dad, almost every man's definition of beauty was constantly updated by how his wife looked when she smiled at him. “Do you want my honest reply to that?”

“I'm not sure. Will I like the answer?”

“I was just thinking that, if things move in the direction I'm hoping, you'll be surrounded by kids and our grand-kids, and quite probably at my funeral. I can't imagine stopping being biased until then.”

“Nigel, don't be ridiculous.”

“What do you mean, ridiculous?”

“You really think that you're going to find be beautiful when I'm old, grey and saggy?”

“I know my dad is convinced mum is the most attractive sixty-something year old on the planet.”

“Oh, that's really sweet.”

“I think that it's normal Eliza. It's called a loving marriage.”

----------------------------------------

Dan won the toss to be the first adult trainee, once the children had each had some time practicing. “Catherine, you've been really quiet recently,” Eliza observed.

“I know. Not like me at all, actually. I guess I'm having deep thoughts about preconceived ideas.”

“Would talking about them help?”

“I'm not sure. God intervening in history. It's a bit of a strange concept.”

“Why strange? I thought it was the basis for a lot of religions.”

“Yes. But my mother is Unitarian, and very much on the deist, universalist wing, if you're familiar with that creed.”

“Not at all, I'm afraid.”

“I grew up being taught by my mother that yes there was a God, but he'd set things in motion and wasn't involved now. My father on the other hand said you don't need to bother with that god business, if he's there then he doesn't matter.”

“Deist accepts God as creator but not involved, is that right?” Eliza asked.

“Yes.”

“And universalist says that everyone will be saved?”

“Yes.”

“And Unitarian means your mother would claim that Jesus wasn't more than a human?” Albert asked.

“Yes. A special human, but human.”

“Where does that leave his statements where he claims to be God, like 'Before Abraham was, I am'?” Albert asked.

Caroline bristled. “You know, I don't know. I'm sure that in the centuries since it was recognised as an acceptable religion in Transylvania in the sixteenth century, no one's asked that question.”

“I expect they have, and I'm sure it's been answered before too, but I was wondering what your mother would say, or more precisely, you.”

“My mother would probably say that the Bible is an interesting book, but you can't take these things on face value, you need to use your rational mind.”

“So, she'd say that if you can't make sense of it then you shouldn't accept it?”

“Exactly, and the trinity certainly isn't something she'd say was something she could make sense of.”

“And miracles don't fit into her rational world, so they don't happen, either?”

“Exactly. And it's not rational to believe that God could fit into a human body, so Jesus can't have meant that. And on the assumption that you're going to ask about the world's favourite miracle, I expect she's having a private crisis of certainty to learn that there are fifty six people walking around on the planet with access to too much knowledge.”

“Fifty seven now.” Eliza corrected.

“Really? I hadn't heard that.”

Eliza shrugged “I heard a few days ago. After my kidnapping, I was sent to the Institute so I could be to be put back together, and I made some friends there.”

“Including...”

“Yes, including people with the gift.”

“Is that normal? That they tell people who they are, I mean?”

“It depends on the circumstances, and the individual. It's up to them. If it serves a purpose and they trust the person not to blab, and all the rest then they can be very open. They decided I had real problems about feeling I was a total failure, untrustworthy, and a total outcast because of my father, and decided to show me how trustworthy they thought I was.”

“Oh. Right. That's quite a risk.”

“So's taking that step of trusting God. But on the other hand, I'd rather take the risk of not breathing than take the risk of stopping trusting him now that I know him. You mother's faith seems very rational and reasonable.”

“I'm sure she'd be happy to hear you say so.” Catherine said, surprised.

“Yes. But I'm not sure I like a couple of her axioms.” Eliza said.

“Go on.”

“It seems rather like she's fitting God into her view of what he ought to be like, rather than allowing him to reveal himself to her.”

“It's overwhelmingly arrogant, you mean? I've thought the same thing. The logic appeals, the basis for morality appeals, but I was never really been convinced that there wasn't some fatal floor in her arguments. Which is why I decided to stay agnostic. But with you all confronting me with the idea that God intervenes, and no one here seems like a raving nut-case, that's another flaw in her arguments, isn't it?”

“Urm, yes.”

“In fact, although she calls herself a Christian, you'd probably say she's compromised too much, wouldn't you, and say that she's too far from the God she trusts to be saved?”

The queen answered “I can't tell where she stands, Catherine. If she trusts God, and has asked him to save her from her sin... Well, the Bible says God doesn't want anyone to perish, and that everyone who calls on him will be saved. But on the other hand there's the thing with the sheep and the goats. I don't think she's right, but no-one can say if she's safe or not, that's between her and God.”

“Maam, you're technically not quite right about that last bit.” Eliza said “Someone with the gift can look at someone's sin. That's how my father's victims were discovered on the day the gangs went mad.

"If they check a Christan, then they see them as God sees them: pure and holy in his sight. But it's probably the most dangerous use of the gift, with a real risk of too much information and boiled brains. It's not for satisfying curiosity. But what about you Catherine?”

“Oh, I'm pretty sure that I'm not among the saved.” she said lightly, “And thanks to your intervention, I find myself wanting to talk a lot of this through with Dan.”

“That's understandable, but don't stop thinking about God if Dan's not interested.”

“According to what my mum's told me, if Dan's not interested in God, and I am, then I should be breaking off the relationship, shouldn't I?”

“Auntie, you can't break up now!” Jemimah protested. “You've only just started going out.”

“It doesn't get any easier, Jem. Better to break up sooner rather than later.”

Just at that moment, Dan came in. “Who's breaking up?”

“You and auntie.” Jim said.

“Maybe.” Jemimah added.

“What?” Dan asked Catherine, shocked.

“Note to self, don't have hypothetical conversations in front of kids.” She said. “I was just contemplating the infinite and thinking that if I'm going to succumb to the royal family's nefarious plot to save my soul and you don't then according to my mum 'Just stop it before you get to the altar, or it's a lifetime of hurt.'”

“Oh, so as long as we're both undecided and open to persuasion, then I don't need to panic?”

“I'm not undecided, Dan.”

“You're not?”

“No. I'm probably going to shock my nut-case neighbour and actually ask about the exploring Christianity courses she keeps inviting me to.”

“Why do you call her a nut-case?” Eliza asked.

“Mostly because she's almost eighty and is unreasonably happy. I mean, she lost her husband a decade ago, and when something reminds her of him, you can see that she's about to cry, and then quick as a flash she says 'Well, he's in a better place and I'll be joining him soon, so I don't have anything to complain about really, do I?' Why can't she just have a good cry or scream at God a bit, or something like that?”

“I expect she gets the resurrection of Lazarus.” Dan said. “Can I come too? Oh, Eliza's waiting for her next pupil.”

“Catherine, do you want to go?” Albert asked, sensing her hesitancy.

“I think I'd like to explore Dan's thinking a little bit.” she replied.

“OK, who'd like to go next then?”

“I will.” Eliza answered, “I've monopolised the conversation with Catherine, so I'll let everyone else a chance to get a word in.”

“If I might overrule?” the King asked. “I think Dan and Catherine are going to be talking with each other quite a lot, for the next slot. I'd like to be free later on if I'm going to make good on my promise to Dan.”

Catherine couldn't resist, “Oooh, we can't have the king breaking promises, can we?”

“Not if we can help it, no.” agreed the queen, and so Eliza went to learn from Eliza after the king.

----------------------------------------

“How's the discussion going?” Eliza-in-security asked.

“Weird. Every time we start talking political systems it ends up religion, and every time we start on theology we seem to end up in politics.”

“Here's some safety gear for you.”

“And there I was thinking we'd just be picking up a bow and shooting it with bare fingers like people in films.”

“People in films deserve to try it with a real bow, and see how quickly their fingers end up bleeding.”

“Ah. OK. Creative idiocy strikes again?”

“Yes indeed. A bit further up. Yes, well done. So, any particular prayer matters?”

“They're intelligent and open, and nervous about whether this is going to ruin their relationship. I've not much idea about Dan's history, but Catherine was raised with an atheist father and a Unitarian-deist-universalist mother. So struggling with familiar concepts.”

“How do you struggle with familiar concepts.”

“She hasn't said, but I expect her mother simplified the world into nice rational Unitarians and 'check your mind in at the door' Trinitarians. She recognised the pride inherent in telling God what he's got to be like. So she knows roughly where we're coming from, but our attitudes aren't quite what she expected, so she's interested.”

“And Dan?”

“He studied philosophy and journalism, poor guy.”

“Why poor guy?”

“For a start, he's a shy one, so he was never going to make it as a roving journalist. And I think his philosophy seriously damaged his concept of reality.”

“Seriously?”

“I'm not sure. I can't make him out, really. I think he can probably run mental circles around us, he just doesn't want to, since that'd be a bit rude. He does value clarity of thought, and seems so quick to change sides in a discussion to point out any logical inconsistency on either side, that I'm not actually sure he has any idea what he thinks, except that he doesn't want to tell Catherine to go investigate God on her own. I think he's got quite a problem with the miraculous, though.”

----------------------------------------

As Albert went to practice archery, Dan said, “I've got to admit a real problem.”

“Oh? What's that?” Catherine teased, “The woman you claim to love is embarrassing you?”

“No. Miracles. I mean, lovely for plot devices, but if God's creation is perfect why does he need to tweak things, and if his creation isn't perfect why are we paying so much attention to him? I'm sure there's a rational explanation for everything. There has to be. But your whole belief-system seems very dependent on God coming along and tweaking things — It just seems... needless if he'd done it right.”

“Oh, it's scandalously dependent on miracles — the Exodus, parting of the Red sea, the giving of the Law, the prophets' ministries, the Incarnation, the Resurrection, the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. And so on and so on.” Catherine agreed. “That's one of the big problems with my mother's position as a semi-deist Christian. I don't think our hosts see that as a problem, though.”

“I think the problem is that you're seeing the universe as something that, once created, has it's own existence, separate from God.” the Queen pointed out. “That's not the Christian world-view. Jesus is described as creator and sustaining all things. The existence of the universe is dependent on God, and every aspect of it, from subatomic particles up, behaves according to his will; always. It's not that the miraculous is God intervening, it's that normally God's will is what we call the laws of physics, which is part of his demonstration to us that He's not capricious. But it's all his will, whether general or specific.”

“So you're saying that something as mundane as gravity is just as miraculous as Jesus walking on water?” Dan asked.

“Not quite. Miracles are unusual, which is why we notice them. And God wills them to happen to get a point across. Without a point, they just become capriciousness. But if there's a point, God doesn't need to fill in any paperwork or make a special effort that leaves him tired.”

Albert decided to take a different line. “Did you read about my friend and his wife learning they were expecting? That was pretty amazing, don't you think?”

“The press reports were right?”

“Pretty much, as far as I know. I told the lady concerned my friend's nick-name, and she told me exactly where he was, down to where in the hotel room and exactly who he was with. His name, his wife's name and maiden name, and that she had a passenger. Apparently, normally she'd just get names, but she wanted their full names so dug deeper than normal and everyone got a surprise.”

“Your highness witnessed it, and has a point in raising it. It's better than hearsay, but not as reliable for me as to see it with my own eyes.”

“You want me to call her and ask for a repeat performance?” Albert asked. “If that'd convince you then she might agree.”

“Dan, don't accept that offer.” Catherine warned.

Since he'd been about to accept, he was taken aback. “Why not?”

“Because I know you too well. If you don't trust his Highness, and you don't trust the accounts of the other people involved, then I don't think you're going to be convinced by your own eyes and ears either. It'd just look like damning evidence that you don't want to be convinced.”

“I'm just setting up false arguments, you mean?”

“I mean that you started off this evening talking about Lazarus, and asking why not other miracles. You had no problem at all accepting that miracles happen then. OK, it might have been a debating point, but you're too good at that sort of mental gymnastics for most people to know what you really think. Right now I think you're still playing that sort of game, and you're being an obstinate materialist at the moment. How about you just think as Dan for the moment?”

“I'm not sure it's a game.” Dan said.

“Well, if you want to, then accept the offer, but if it doesn't convince you, then that's not the result of an enquiring mind, not yet daring to believe but willing to be convinced, now is it?

Witnessing something like that... Well it'd convince me that miracles happen, that God is real, like my mum says, but he's much more involved than she believes, and I'd be going along to those exploration groups convinced already. But if you see that evidence and don't accept it then I doubt anything will. And that'd probably mean our relationship is over, wouldn't it?”

Dan was quiet for a long time, thinking. Catherine knew him well, better than he knew himself, it seemed. He really didn't want to admit his parents might be right. But he didn't want to lose her, either. He turned to the monarch. “Your speech had a lot of truth in it, sir. It's not so much the lack of evidence as obstinate refusal to accept what we don't want to be true, isn't it?”

“I think maybe your article made that fairly clear. And that the young lady has brought a strong lever to bear, hasn't she?”

“Forcefully, yes. And I feel rather like a snail caught between a rock and a hard place.”

“Dan, you've never told me, and I've never asked. Are your parents still alive? Is this something to do with them?”

“Got it in one, Cath.” He got up and walked to the door where he watched the archery for a bit, then turned back and said. “My parents are alive, and well, as far as I know. I've not heard much from them since I declared myself agnostic after a week at university. For one reason or another, mostly revolving around the pastor, when I was thirteen or so, they led a chunk of the congregation away from the little church I grew up going to; where I had a few friends. Their cronies were mostly older than they were, and I was the only one younger than sixteen. Dad got named the part-time pastor of the breakaway group, and he preached a strict faith that had no time for dissent or questioning, and practiced it at home. I wasn't allowed to meet my old friends, mostly because we'd only ever met at church, but also because our village was a long way from town where the church was. The congregation grew a bit as others from the same church joined us. Then there was another disagreement, I don't know the issue. Half of our group left, to other churches. That left Dad the pastor of about fifteen people. My last Sunday school lesson at the old church had been 'By this shall everyone know that you're my disciples, that you love one another.' Dad's sermons, however, where heavy on 'If anyone preaches another gospel let him be eternally condemned.' After, I don't know, about five years, the pastor at the old church was sacked, and a year later mum and dad and the rest of the people went back, saying 'see, we were right about him.' I was at university by then. Once I declared myself an agnostic, my dad said I was welcome to visit, but he'd prefer it if I didn't stay for long, which suited me just fine.

"In all this, I saw a lot of self-righteousness, back-biting, bitterness, gossip and very little love or tolerance. So I decided they must be following the wrong religion, or that if God did care about that church then either he ought to zap someone, or God doesn't do miracles. I wasn't sure if it was the original pastor who figured so often in my Dad's sermons who needed zapping, or if it was Dad. I don't really want to tell them they were right all along, because I'm still fairly sure they weren't.”

“But you haven't actually talked to them about it since?” Catherine asked.

“No. No, I drop mum a short note now and again, she replies.”

“That's a really sad story.” Eliza said. “Your parents actions really damaged your faith, didn't they?”

“Yes, but, well, it's all ancient history now.”

“The thing about ancient history, is it's still present-day if you're still living it.” The King pointed out.

“Yes. I have three options: God's not there, God doesn't do miracles, or my parents were right. I will freely admit that I don't find any of the options intellectually satisfying.”

“What about your parent's being right about God's existence, but wrong about his character?”

“That's why I want to go to the exploration group with you.”

Eliza had a thought, and acted on it. She checked for saved people in the room; herself, their majesties, and Dan.

[Albert? Any objection if I tell them I have the gift?]

[Why?]

[I've realised I got it wrong. It's dead easy to tell who's saved: I just count dots. Dan's rejected his parents strict upbringing and lack of grace. But he glows.]

[I'll get Eliza to call the kids back, if that's OK.]

[Good thought.] she agreed.

When that'd been accomplished, much to the joy of the youngsters, Eliza spoke.

“Dan, you might want to think about something.”

“Yes, maam?”

“When you were talking about your church, you knew what should be there. When you wrote your article, behind the cynicism, you wrote like someone who knew what he was talking about. You know what church should be like, don't you? In your heart?”

“Ha! I'm an optimistic dreamer, you mean?”

“Are you? I thought you were pretending to be a bitter, cynical man.”

“Why can you and Catherine see through me so easily? How do you know me?”

“Oh, I expect Catherine's been watching you carefully for years.”

“Oh, I have. But I'm not sure how you can, maam.”

“Oh, call me Eliza, please. As for me, I can cheat. Dan, when you were at Sunday school, I expect you prayed the prayer, didn't you?”

“Well, yes.”

“Dan, I very strongly suspect that you know what church should be like because the Holy Spirit you invited into your heart has been telling you.”

Dan's eyes opened wide. Was it possible? It was shocking. But it did seem to ring true. “Maam, I don't understand how you thought of that. And I don't understand what you meant by cheat.

“I'm afraid I misled you earlier.” Eliza admitted “I just tried another way of spotting saved people. There are five in this room at the moment.”

“I'm confused.” Catherine said. “What's the prayer, and what do you mean, about spotting saved people, Eliza?”

“The prayer is the one which counts, above all others.” Dan said, shaking his head in wonderment. He was pretty sure he understood what Eliza meant. “The prayer when you commit your life to God.”

“But you didn't believe in him.” Catherine said, still confused.

“It seems that he believes in me, though. I wasn't sure He was real, if he cared. I guess he does. No wonder I wanted to go to the exploration group as soon as I heard about it.” Then turning to Eliza he added “Thank you for your trust.”

Catherine was still visibly confused, and said so.

“Catherine, There's a reason I'm very well informed about people with the gift, as well as knowing people at the Institute. God seems to have decided I needed to know I was trustworthy too, so he gave it to me. He actually gave it to me to help me escape my captors, I just didn't realise. I know Dan said thank you, but I did just let you in on a class epsilon state secret. Please don't tell, I'd hate for you to get in trouble.”

“I didn't know there was such a thing.” Catherine said, fascinated.

“There isn't on the statute books. We don't even admit they exist.” The king said, with a smile. “If it came to trial, then the charge would be knowingly breaking a state secret of unspecified category, or I suppose we might just charge someone with the implicit class delta state secret — that Eliza is a thought-hearer too.”

“In case you're wondering, no, you haven't been leaking thoughts which have helped me convince you, or anything like that.” Eliza said. “I said I'd cheated because I knew that Dan's confession of faith had saved him, so I made some guesses. But you knowing does make one thing easier. Would you like me to ask my dad if he's happy to talk to you about his conversion?”

“He knows about your gift?” Catherine asked.

“Yes.”

“That... that should be the scoop of the year.” Dan said “Yes please!”

“It might be. I'm not really sure. It basically boils down to him realising that he wasn't that unusual, is mortal, got scared, and then the final straw: his entire plan was based on a very wrong presumption.”

“There is another state secret in there, Eliza.” The queen warned.

“I know. And it's not for me to say it.”

“Albert, we've discussed declassifying the alpha. The consequences will fall on you and your children.” the King said “Your decision.”

“Father, consequences for our children are already there for anyone to work out from Eliza's father. I think we can time the release with the establishment of the C.A.T.” Albert said. “There's the chance that it would provide reassurance to people who might be nervous about the list turning into a witch-hunt.”

Catherine raised a hand to her shoulder-height “Might I enquire if C.A.T stands for 'Chartered Association of Truthsayers'?”

“It does,” the King confirmed, “I expect to be signing the charter next week. At Albert's suggestion, I will also declassify the state secret at about the same time, that refers to a certain ability my father had. He had very fast reactions, my Dad, and when he clapped me on the shoulder and asked me what I'd been up to, there was no chance of getting away with a fib. It was as though he knew just what I was thinking.”

“My father's whole terrible plan was based on the thought that he had superior genetics, and so his descendants should be on the throne.” Eliza added. “He over-looked the possibility that someone with the same genetic trait he had might already be there, with far better morals.”

“So, your majesty knew that your father could hear thoughts?” Dan asked.

“No, of course not. Thought hearing was something for fantasy writers to use as a plot device, like telekinesis, faster-than-light travel, and tractor-beams.”

“Not to mention forcefields and of course terraforming planets.” Albert added.

“Hmm. Interesting that, isn't it? I wonder how many other fantasist's ideas will become reality.” Dan asked.

“An ever decreasing number, I expect, since they don't seem to have felt the need to come up with anything else for the last few centuries.” Eliza said. “And no, I'm not going to look for people with telekinesis. If they exist, and they want to come out of the shadows, then they can turn up at the institute to be tested. If someone does do that, proves genuine, and asks 'am I the only one', then maybe.”

“I wonder when the first entertainment channel will be asking for technical advice about what the thought-hearer characters they want to put into their shows can and can't do.” Catherine asked.

“Since most of them don't bother asking about our lives, or basic physics and chemistry for that matter, I expect that'll be quite a while.” the queen said.

“I can imagine someone deciding that you need to put your hand to your temple or something like that.” Albert asked.

“Or pulling a face.” Eliza suggested.

“Whereas there's no visual clue at all?” Catherine asked.

“Is there a visual clue when you hear something? It's a similar sense. Maybe it'll distract you, or you'll react to something the other person hasn't said yet. But you learn fairly quickly that 'He was going to take my pencil!' doesn't get you very far with parents or nursery school teachers.”

“And sometimes, say in a race, you just need to fake having slow reactions, or you get accused of jumping the gun.” Albert added.

[Did you need to do that?] Eliza asked.

[They know it's in my genes, so they're going to work it out, or at least strongly suspect it. If I tell them plainly, then they're going to be more careful about speculating about it in their writing.]

“Your highness,” Dan asked, “have you just let us in on another state secret?”

“Class delta, yes.” he confirmed. “I thought it would make it easier for you to know when you needed to be careful rather than just guessing.”

“And you'll probably find certain other things suddenly become clearer.” Eliza offered “Like the speed our relationship developed at and just how we were doing a lot of talking and falling in love but not dating or breaking safe-house rules about making regular calls from them.”

“It probably also helped when mother called Eliza a national treasure and threatened to beat me into a pulp if I dared to let her get away.” Albert said.

“I didn't threaten to beat you into a pulp, Albert, don't exaggerate. I just pointed out that you'd been rather obviously gazing into her eyes for at least half the meal, and off in a private conversation of your own, so your declaration that you had no plans to meet seemed like a very surprising step.”

“So it was love at first sight?” Dan asked.

“Hardly.” Eliza said, “But someone did some ruthless matchmaking.”

“Ruthless matchmaking? What does that look like?” Catherine asked.

“It sounds like 'Sorry your highness, I know that you're interested in me, but that's just because I'm the first single thought-hearer you've met in a decade and I'm really not interested. Chat up Eliza instead. She's a much better candidate than I am.' Or something like that.” Albert explained. “And with much indignation at such match-making, we got talking, and I decided she had a point.”

“It's a shame we can't publish that. Can I ask why you described Eliza as a national treasure, Maam?” Catherine asked the queen.

The King answered. “Because she was the one who saw the truth about my attitude to God in my mind and was then brave enough to tell me it was beneath me to pretend I didn't believe in him. Sorry, you can't publish that either.”

“I think what we can publish is that the royal family spoke to us freely about politics, religion, deregulation of a certain state secret, how the happy couple met and even gave us an invitation to the wedding. And that very soon we'll be running an interview with your father, Eliza, if he's OK with that.”

“I'll ask.”

[Dad, a quick question from someone here.]

[Yes?]

[Would you mind being interviewed about becoming a Christian?]

[I'm not going to put you at risk, Eliza. I'm not going to tell them everything.]

[Thank you, Dad, but they know I'm talking to you now. And how. They're trustworthy, honest journalists.]

[Ha! No such thing! Which channel?]

[New Republican Post.]

[You've told a couple of republicans about having the gift?]

[Yes. It sounds silly, doesn't it? But they're all right. He's a Christian, she's interested. They're a bit cynical, pretty low in respect for other people's agendas or sacred cows, but like the fact that his majesty does the washing up. Not afraid of speaking up if they think its necessary, and they're not owned by any big multi-national, either.]

[So if they interviewed me they'd be using my story to rake in massive readership to listen to their subversive ideas, and you want this?]

[I don't think they're subversive, Dad. They're just refreshingly honest. The man used to call himself an agnostic, but he was hiding from dead religiosity, really. He wrote that he'd be happy to talk about God if the King invited him round for tea, she said she'd go out with him if he got her an invitation too, and their Majesties took them up on the offer. He admitted that if he hadn't said the king inviting him to the palace for tea, then he'd have said he'd have said he'd talk to you about God after you'd repented, at which point I said I could arrange that too if they liked. In other words, Dad, your conversion is a by-word for the impossible, and people will listen.]

[And what do I say about your ex-witch friend?]

[I'll ask her.]

[I still don't know why you trust her.]

[I'll get back to you soon...] Eliza sent and then called [Vivian? Are you free?]

[Sort of, if it's quick.]

[Can I tell Dad about you? He still thinks I'm mixing with the wrong people.]

[Of course you can.]

[Thanks, a couple of reporters want to interview him about his conversion.]

[Oh, OK, so I need to discuss with him what I don't mind him telling them?]

[If, possible.]

[I'll call him when I'm free.]

[Thanks, Vivian.]

[Dad, Vivian will call you later. I guess she'll ask you for your number too, so have it ready.]

[You're not making much sense, Eliza.]

[She'll call you like this. She has the same gift as I have, Dad. That's how I know I can trust her.]

[Maria knows?]

[I'm not sure. But you're happy to be interviewed?]

[Yes, Eliza. Once or twice. I don't like reporters.]

[Bye.]

“Welcome back.” Albert said, as her eyes regained focus.

“Thanks. It took longer than I expected. Dad seems convinced that I'm playing with fire, telling republicans about my gift.”

“Well, we could run an exposé on everything we learned here, but I think we'd spend the rest of our lives regretting it.” Dan said.

“But honestly, Dan, what would be the point? And it would be needlessly damaging.” Catherine added.

“Thankyou.” Eliza said.

“I hope you're not going to suggest we change the tone of our articles, Cath.” Dan asked.

“Oh, don't do that,” the King said, “or your readers will think we bribed you.”

“And abandon us to the cruel fate of businesses whose customers abandon them, you mean?” Dan asked.

“Or the indignity of the palace press office.” Catherine added.

“I think they enjoy it there, actually.” the queen offered. “Fielding questions from schools about what colour Albert's socks have been this month, followed by a defence journal asking if it would be possible for their journalist to do an in-situ interview on a submarine.”

“Are those real questions?” Catherine asked suspiciously?

“The socks are.” Albert said. “I have a standing request from the press office to keep a record of what I put on each morning. And the school kids check up too. And don't they write irate letters if I get it wrong.”

“Can't you just get the house computer to do it?” Dan asked.

“What house computer?” asked the queen gently. “The console Eliza was working on is the closest thing we have to a real computer in our home, other than wrist units. It would be a security risk to have a network-connected computer supervising the royal apartments. Deliberately putting cameras and microphones that might be coerced into being bugs? It'd be much too tempting a target for foreign powers.”

“Oh. I see. So what do you do?”

“I try to remember to take my picture every morning, send it to the office computer which analyses it, and then hopefully destroys the evidence because otherwise there's an almost daily record of me looking not my best for the past fifteen years.”

“Oh, but imagine what you could do with a little bit of processing! The signs of growing maturity and wisdom!” Eliza teased. “Well, age anyway.”

“Thank you Eliza. I love you too. I should add that the photos usually have my head cut off, so I can get my feet in the picture.”

“Oh. OK, forget it then. But why are the kids interested in your socks?”

“My fault,” admitted the queen, “I said OK to a text book using Albert's sock colour as an example in an introduction to statistical data when he was about ten. I did not approve a teacher's suggestion on a discussion site which said 'maybe the kids could compare then and now and see if there's a trend, or correlate the colour of his shirts and socks.'”

“Oh. So no one is going to start asking what colour clothes I'm wearing, I hope.”

“Of course they are!” Catherine replied “But you know about them, they're called fashion writers.”