The Kingmakers(58)
“Yes, Gregor. You may proceed.”
The carriage door swung wide and the blare of countless trumpets filled the air. Greyfriar stepped out to screams of excitement. He paused at the foot of the steps and turned to offer his hand to the glittering empress. The footman posed with mute annoyance as Greyfriar handed Adele down to the red-carpeted walkway, which extended across the sidewalk and up the many steps to the portico of the Grand Macedon Opera House where a line of brass horns blew an earsplitting welcome.
Adele appeared in a pale yellow gown, accented in magenta. It showed her olive complexion to wonderful effect. The skirt was voluminous, but her waist and bodice were tight, and sparkled with intricate gem work. Her strong shoulders were bare under a magenta silk stole, appropriate for single women, if daring for an empress. Long opera gloves above the elbows completed the elegant ensemble.
Adele glided up the steps with a grace that thrilled her; managing vast gowns had always been a challenge. Greyfriar followed just behind her shoulder, scanning their surroundings constantly, an all-seeing sentinel. Her White Guard stood at attention, lining her path. Captain Shirazi acknowledged her with a brief nod before returning to his duty.
On the portico, she turned with a brilliant smile to wave at the multitudes, most of whom would never set foot inside the Grand Macedon in their lifetimes. Adults held children aloft to catch a glimpse of their empress and her mysterious companion.
Adele then entered the vast building of sparkling chandeliers, bold mosaics, marbled columns, dark but intricately carved woodwork, and a veritable jungle of green plants in massive pots and cisterns. There facing her across the spacious lobby was the interminable greeting line of tuxedoes, gowns, uniforms, and veils.
With her secretary at her side to announce names, the empress passed down the line, shaking hands, acknowledging bows and curtsies, secretly delighted as all eyes locked on Greyfriar, who went with her but did not acknowledge anyone, like a guardian angel or vengeful spirit.
Adele paused to speak to the two blue-haired colossi of the Phoenix Society. Lady Tahir was accompanied by a devilishly handsome young man who did not bear a family resemblance. Mrs. General Alfred Cornwell (ret.) was with her husband, the grey-whiskered General Cornwell, whose head quavered slightly, but who was resplendent in a uniform adorned with medals of the Burmese Campaign.
“General,” Adele said, “most delighted to see you. I have the frequent opportunity to greet your wife, but I believe I have yet to make your esteemed acquaintance.”
“Thank you, Majesty,” the old gentleman replied briefly, then stopped talking, which caused his wife to smile, but when he opened his mouth again, her eyes flew wide in alarm. “And may I say, as a military man, well done in Grenoble!”
“Thank you, General.”
He carried on in a muttering baritone. “I daresay those boys gave the vampires what for when you showed up, let them know what they're fighting for, so to speak.”
Mrs. General Alfred Cornwell (ret.) went ashen, horrified that her husband had just referred to the empress as some sort of barracks pinup, giving the boys at the front a bit of home. She touched the general's ribboned sleeve and tittered nervously, signaling that his time with the monarch was at an end.
“And, if I may,” he persisted, pointing a knobby finger at the delicate young empress, “all the chaps at the Polo Club are bully for you. Every man jack of us wishes he'd been at Grenoble.” He clenched a quivering fist and flecked his bushy mustache with emotional spittle. “If only I wasn't so blasted old! I'd join up in a second!”
Mrs. General Alfred Cornwell (ret.) was breathing raggedly from the fear that her hard-earned position in society had been undone in a few blustery words from her demented husband. Lady Tahir, who typically was so attached to the general's wife that they finished one another's sentences, subtly turned herself away in order to distance her social status from the plummeting stock of her former friend.
Adele took the old general's rough hand. “We thank you for your kind words, General. We wish you were able to be at Grenoble as well. Your service to our father is sufficient to earn you praise and rest. If the men of the army in Europe are half the men you and your comrades were in Burma, we daresay the vampires stand no chance.”
General Cornwell's lip quivered until he tightened his jaw manfully. He bowed deeply to her.
Adele looked at the confused Mrs. General Alfred Cornwell (ret.). “And the women behind our men at the front are what make Equatoria the great empire it is. We thank you for your service.” She then glanced at the equally confused Lady Tahir and said with an impeccable straight face, “And your ladyship, I am so glad to see you with your son.”