I

EN ROUTE TO THE ISLAND OF HERTTACH

Concluding many months of travel across the Greater Continent I arrive at Le Pont Cent Quatre-Vingts Ans that spans the waters of The Straits of Scission. Presently I meet Albert, the Official Guide appointed by The Ruling Council of Herttach to serve me.

THE TRAVELLER. On reaching the town adjacent to the bridge known universally as the Pont Cent Quatre-Vingts Ans, alluding to the time it took to plan and build it, I could not but marvel at the speed and nicety in which, conveyed by Solar Cart, I had been transported along the broad straight roads through so many and varied domains.

Abundant green and multi-hued fields replete with a multiplicity of crops and abundance, reaching out to the distant horizon, parting only at intervals to accommodate neat villages and outlying farms. Fine cities where sometimes I tarried, or passed by when the necessity of time’s hand urged me onwards with haste. The high towers of publick buildings proclaiming civic pride and confidence. Squares and monuments. Fine shops and market-halls. Parks and tree-shaded river banks. Private houses of substance. Humbler dwellings, clean and wholesomely fettled.

Biding a while in the shadow of the Pont Cent Quatre-Vingts Ans one could observe Solar-Cart-Highways, reaching in from every direction, thus to converge at this crossing, where the land ends and sea commences. Solar Wagons piled high with the fruits of agriculture, industry and commerce. Men of divers nations, some bearded others shaven. Many attired in the costume of their native soil. Still others garbed in the common and universally adopted mode of blue pantaloons. Talk in diverse tongues. Trading. Gossip. The exchange of intelligence. “What is the state of the market?” “What news from the north? “How did the crops fare, this season, in the central regions?” Babble. Odours. Sweet. Rank. Elusive. What a veritable maelstrom of activity to gaze upon with exultation and wonder.

Forwarded messages having secured for me in advance a bed for the night, within a small but comfortable inn adjacent to the wharfs and having dined well – Tender shoots of asparagus dressed with balsam of nut oil and fine white verjuice and a pinch of basil. A small, sweet, tender fowl, well roasted, laid for comfort on a bed of small green beans, dressed gently with butter and a dusting of nutmeg. Goats cheese, black on the exterior, melting white within, my repast well-rounded with several glasses of dry red wine glowing with the trapped sun of the southern regions. Replete, I retired to my chamber and thence to bed, having first given The Watchman pointed instructions, to rouse me early before the arrival of Albert my appointed guide.

At first light the following morn, sitting at my ease in La Salle à Manger, partaking of coffee and the final crumbs of crisp fresh rolls, a sturdy man of middling height entered straight-backed with purpose through the double doors. Following a brief glance over the assembled company, espied my languishing in the comfort of my druxom corner and purposely strode towards me.

ALBERT. “Good morrow to you Sir.” I am Albert.

THE TRAVELLER. Rising from my chair I returned his greeting, grasped and warmly shook a firm hand and urged Albert to sit with me to partake of a cup of the most excellent coffee.

Albert laughed heartily “Bless you Sir. No time for such a dalliance. Though I do thank thee most warmly for your consideration,” continuing by way of explanation “You must indeed be unfamiliar with the customs of the region. We must depart within this hour if we are to reach Pont Cent Quatre-Vingts Ans and cross in good time to gain entry to The Island of Herttach within a designated Window of Admission.”

There was not even a moment in which to inform myself as to the exact meaning of a Window of Admission. Albert summoned on my behalf the Boots & Lobby Manservant. My luggage was loaded in a trice aboard a richly appointed Solar Cart that stood awaiting on the smoothly paved forecourt welcoming in the morning sunshine.

Seemingly within minutes of my meeting and introduction to Albert at my lodgings, we were on the Pont Cent Quatre-Vingts Ans, a well-crafted structure of notable design, a fine clear sky above, the calm waters of the sea far below, our Solar Cart moving with ease and dispatch towards the now visible landfall.

Albert eased himself to greater comfort on Le Siège de Conducteurs, deftly produced from an inner picket a small snuff-box, a trinket richly decorated with scenes taken from classical mythology, With a practiced movement of the thumb, Albert steadied the lid, then let go his other hand from off the control-bar of the Solar Cart for the instant needed to secure and administer a pinch. There followed a moment of enjoyment and reflection during which time he stowed the box back within its customary pocket, only then were his thoughts and attention directed towards myself.

ALBERT. “Entry to The Island of Herttach within a designated Window of Admission,” he mused, changing his posture to command a better view from the driving bench. “Some years past, there was proposed a well considered scheme. It was thought expedient that all the nations within the Greater Continent should combine, and by this means, multiply and combine their natural and manufactured resources, thence to further the happiness of the peoples who had the good fortune to live within its boundaries.”

Contemplating the weight of a phrase or two on his tongue he paused for a moment before continuing.

“People. Merchandise. Now move without let or hindrance within the Greater Continent. Nevertheless The Parliament of The Island of Herttach considered it unwise to concede too many points of otherwise general agreement. Exclusions were sought and secured, to the general satisfaction of both the Parliament and the citizens of Herttach. I will quote Sir from The Minikin Blue Book a compilation of wise saws, noted verbatim as they purled from off the lips the personage who became universally acknowledged to have been one of our greatest Statespersons. The Minikin Blue Book is a compendium much revered by all loyal and true citizens of the realm. Indeed Sir. Tis the custom that every child both male and female be presented with a copy of this matchless tôme to mark the casting of their swaddlings.”

Only when sailing on the decks of an illusion can true peace and contentment to be found

The Mnikin Blue Book. Saw I

“A Herttach citizen born and bred Sir. I can inform you with certainty that those who command and direct our law making are sage, drawing upon accrued knowledge of centuries of governmental practice concerning foreign lands and peoples. Reluctant to forego the many gains that might accrue by embracing the proposals for general combination of domains of The Great Continent, it was still considered unwise that the notion of movement without hindrance should be accepted and applied in its totality.

Thus the Window of Arrival. Mooted by a member of the ruling council, it was legislated there should be no obstacle to free movement, but entry to the shores of our blessed island would only be permitted between ten and a quarter past ten in the morning on even dates, and between eleven and eleven thirty on odd dates. This rendered even more effective when term Odd Dates was struck from the calendar, The Inappropriate and Mischievous Words Committee, declaring the word, Odd, be excised forthwith from common and official usage as a demeaning epithet and therefore not fitting to the spirit of the age.”

THE TRAVELLER. I thanked Albert most warmly for imparting this most illuminating information. It had that had in the telling made me unaware that we had almost reached our destination. Moments later we exited from off the Pont Cent Quatre-Vingts Ans and made landfall on the shores of The Island of Herttach.

I was amazed to observe that we were confronted by what appeared to be an enormous wall of glass stretching out in every direction. Rising from the very earth, reaching up to touch and disappear into the clouds above us. It shimmered in the morning light seemingly solid and yet liquid. Never before had I encountered such a coastal barrier. My fears were however without foundation, The Solar Cart passed through this singular barrier with ease, though I myself was expectant of disaster at any instant. The Solar Cart came to rest on its obverse side undamaged, as we ourselves were, neither men or conveyance in any manner scathed by our passing through this singular translucent curtain.

Before us lay a narrow highway constructed of some grey ill-maintained material pre-ordained our route ahead. Stationery, two abreast, lines of Solar Carts and Solar Wagons stretching out as far as the eye could determine. Making utility of this total lack of forward motion, Albert pointed back from whence we had come.

I turned my head to join his gaze and looking at Pont Cent Quatre-Vingts Ans through the transparent barrier hardly visible from its obverse, I did not in truth recognise the structure we had recently traversed. The Pont Cent Quatre-Vingts Ans now gave the appearance of having been constructed from old bits of iron and stone, the whole structure leaning at a curious angle, imminently about to fall and crumble into the dark waters of the sea.

Albert handed me a spy-glass, an instrument of obvious quality fashioned from brass and equipped with the finest optics. Around the eye-piece engraved a legend: Of Far Eastern Manufacture. Albert indicated that I should observe the far shore from whence we had just journeyed. I did as I was bid and my gasp of surprise and unsettled demeanour brought forth peals of laughter from the ample throat of my guide. The place where I had spent the previous night in such comfort, a coastal town of distinction and sound construction, when viewed from the Herttach side of the transparent barrier, appeared to consist of nothing more than a group of ramshackle buildings, all overcast by a pall of black smoke, belching from open fires and chimney pots.

My eyes being distracted and mind somewhat bemused by what I was observing, I lurched forward with a jolt as the Solar Cart moved off without prior warning. This traction was however short in duration, coming to a rest no more than half a league along the highway the line of Solar Carts and Solar Wagons to our front having halted.

Close by I spied, hard to the highway a Money Changer’s place of business and indicated to Albert that perhaps it would be wise for me to obtain an ample supply of the currency of Herttach.

ALBERT. Considered this for a moment and then from an outer pocket of his jerkin produced a small roll of parchment. Unrolling the document, he delineated its contents. “You will see Sir. affixed at the foot of this paper the red wax official seal of our Office of External Affairs. On learning of your intended visit to our country, and knowing well your reputation as a scholar, writer, and traveller, it was decided by the highest chamber, that the common purse would defray all the expenses you might incur during your sojourn within these shores. Change coin if you must Sir. Though tiss my considered opinion you will have little use or need of it.”

THE TRAVELLER. I expressed my surprise and delight at this unexpected and unsought for generosity and bade Albert to convey my appreciation to the proper authority when time permitted him to do so. Nevertheless I stated my intention to change some coin as a safeguard against the hazard that I should not be without the means to pay my way should we become separated by some unforeseen manifestation of chance.

I bade him rest a moment and alighting from the Solar Cart entered the Money Changer’s Office, a backward glance at the stationery line of traffic confirming my opinion that there was little danger my personal mode of conveyance would be elsewhere when I emerged after having completed my business.

Inside I found myself confronting a sallow man of about sixty years old, attired soberly in style and colour appropriate to those who spend their days transacting coin. Sitting behind a large oaken desk, he looked up at me for a moment, putting the quill with which he was adding to the rows of figures in the ledger, to rest besides a large copper lidded ink pot.

From my store of coinage, kept well concealed in stout leather money-belt, worn beneath my waistcoat, I fetched out twelve Golden Ecudoros, counting them out in a row on the desk top. Taking the coins one by one, each coin was carefully scrutinised and then weighed using a small hand-balance of the Roman type. Assured, my gold was dropped, coin by coin, into an iron-bound wooden money-chest. Locking the coffer, my opposite in this piece of business, slid open desk-draw and from it took out a leather money bag of no small size, fastened closely with a draw-string. It was pushed across the desk towards me and information imparted in thin dry tones that it contained the equivalent of my twelve gold coins in Herttach Crowns. Assuming without question The Money Changer to be a man of repute, I saw little need to count what was proffered and picked up the money-bag unopened and intact. It’s weight caused me no small surprise. The bag was of such size that there was no manner in which it could be secreted within the security of my money-belt.

Bidding farewell to the tonsured crown of the Money Changer’s head, he having picked up his quill and resumed the task of entering figures into The Ledger, I returned to the Solar Cart and requesting Albert to grant me a further moment of indulgence, opened my most commodious valise, pushing the money-bag well down inside it, fastened and secured the buckles.