The Malacia Tapestry by Brian W. Aldiss

injustices. Her uncle is a friend of mine, a friend of poverty. A pretty girl, too, with quite an air about her, is little Letitia.’
    â€˜And what blazing bundle of talent and beauty is destined for the role of Princess Patricia?’
    He gave me another mouth-numbing smile.
    â€˜Oh, I thought you had discovered that. The success of our enterprise, alas, depends heavily on my employer. So we are exploited. To satisfy his whim – and not from other reasons – the role of the Princess Patricia will be played by Armida Hoytola. It is a consolation that she is not ugly.’
    â€˜Armida as Patricia … Well, you know that my art is all to me. It comes as a surprise to learn that Armida, whom I scarcely know, is also to act in your drama. Even so, I will work with you for the sake of this marvellous new form of drama you have perfected.’
    â€˜Arrive here punctually at eight of the morning and that will suit me. There’ll be time enough for speeches then. And let’s keep secret the enterprise for a while. No boasting, if you can withstand it.’
    It is a curious fact about old people that, like Bengtsohn, they do not necessarily soften if you speak them fair. It is almost as if they suspect you of being insincere. This trait manifests itself in my father. Whereas you can always get round friends of your own age.
    But Bengtsohn was civil when I appeared next morning, cutting me a slice of solid bread-and-blood pudding for breakfast; he even paid me half a florin in advance for my work, from his own pocket. I helped him, his wife, and Bonihatch load up a cart with the things he needed, including the zahnoscope, a tent, several flats, and some costumes, before the others arrived. As we worked a true seigneur rolled up, the great Andrus Hoytola himself stepping down from his carriage.
    Andrus Hoytola was a well-built, dignified man, lethargic of movement, with a large, calm face like a pale sea. He wore a flowered silk banyan over pantaloons that buckled at the knees. He had white silk stockings and his feet were thrust into slippers. His hair was done in a short stumpy queue tied with grey velvet ribbon. He looked slowly about him.
    I gave him a bow. Bengtsohn made a salute and said, ‘We are getting forward with our matters, sir.’
    â€˜One would expect so.’ He helped himself to a pinch of snuff from a silver box and strolled across to regard the zahnoscope. I had hoped for an introduction; none was forthcoming. My consolation was the sight of his daughter Armida, who alighted from the other side of the carriage.
    Her reserve was perhaps to be accounted for by the presence of her father. She evinced no surprise and little interest that I was engaged to act with her in the drama of Prince Mendicula ; her attention was rather on her dress. Like her father, she was fashionably garbed, wearing a plain decolleté open robe of ice blue with long, tight sleeves which ended in time to display her neat wrists. When she walked, her skirts revealed a hint of ankle. A fragrance of patchouli hung about her. And what a beauty she was! Features that tended towards the porcine in her father were genuinely inspiring in Armida, especially when they lit as she said smilingly, ‘I see that the walls of neither monastery nor barracks have closed about you yet.’
    â€˜A blessed reprieve.’
    The cart was loaded and harnessed to a pair of mules, black of visage, long of ear, and inclined to foam at the mouth. We climbed on or walked behind, while the Hoytolas returned to their carriage. Bonihatch explained that we were heading for the Chabrizzi Palace beyond the Toi, where our play would be enacted.
    The Palace of the Chabrizzis was set in a striking position at no great distance from Mantegan, where Katarina passed the days of her married life. The Palace was built under a last outcrop of the tawny Prilipit Mountains, to stare loftily across the city.
    Within its gates we rolled to a