today’s events should go well.
“As Grand Duke of Sector Four I’ll have to be in the audience and Helena, as my
daughter and heir, will be with me. Have to keep up appearances, after all, though I’d be
much more useful back here. Ima Takanabe will be running the checkpoint; I’ll take you
over and introduce you. She can give you your assignments for the day.”
He led them over to a woman directing much of the backstage traffic, in her forties and
about the same height as the d’Alemberts themselves. She was the picture of efficiency.
“Colonel Takanabe, these are agents Wombat and Hedgehog. Use them wherever you
need two exceptionally talented people.” Then, with only a slight nod, he was off again to
round up his daughter and take their seats in the audience.
Colonel Takanabe was impressed. Like everyone else in the Service, she knew the
codename Wombat as one of the top people in the organization-and while she had never
heard of Hedgehog, she knew that any partner of Wombat’s had to be among the best.
She needed but an instant’s thought to decide where to station the two newcomers to
best effect.
Jules and Yvonne ended up behind the scenes, one on either side of the enormous
platform that served as both altar and dais for the Coronation ceremony. Their job looked
easy, but it was deceptive. They were to be constantly scanning the audience for the
slightest sign of trouble-and if anything untoward occurred, it was their task to remedy it
without disrupting the ceremony if at all possible. The job required absolute concentration
throughout the many hours of the ceremony, and could not be taken lightly. It was also a
job that, if performed correctly, would receive no notice at all except in Takanabe’s
efficiency report.
The rites had actually been going on for many hours before the d’Alemberts had arrived
at the hall. Emperor Stanley Ten had gone on Galaxy-wide live broadcast the night
before to announce his official abdication, to become effective upon the crowning of his
daughter. He then made the pro forma call for the nobles of the Empire to gather
together to proclaim Edna as Empress Stanley Eleven, supreme ruler of the Empire of
Earth.
There followed, on that same broadcast, a rare televised meeting of the Chamber of
Thirty-Six wherein the grand dukes of all thirty-six sectors of space unanimously issued a
proclamation requesting Crown Princess Edna to assume the Throne. The scene then
shifted to the College of Dukes, where the planetary rulers met in council. Not all the
1,368 dukes in the Empire were present, of course; only twice in history had every duke
been in attendance simultaneously at the College, and both occasions occurred early in
the Empire’s history, when there were far fewer dukes. Nevertheless, the College
managed a splendid turnout, and their pomp rivaled that of the grand dukes as they
issued an identical proclamation.
The scene then shifted back to the Imperial Palace, where Edna Stanley acknowledged
the proclamations and agreed to become the new Empress. She then made a speech to
the people of the Empire, while her father stood proudly behind her-one of the few times
in the last five decades that he had ever stood in the background. Edna gave a glowing
tribute to the peace and prosperity during her father’s reign; she called him “the greatest
of the Great Stanleys” and pointed out that during his reign the Empire expanded by
nearly twenty-three percent.
Moving from the past to the future, Edna spoke in general terms of the goals she wanted
to accomplish for the Empire. Her speech was simple and distinct, delivered without a
trace of nervousness or self-consciousness. All her life Edna had trained to become
empress; she now looked and acted the part to perfection. Those who heard her speak
that evening-and the vast majority of people within the Empire did, no matter what time it
was on their respective worlds-could have no doubts at all about her capacity to
administer the largest empire man had ever created.
At no time did Edna allow her audience the slightest inkling that the Empire was under
the threat of imminent attack from a navy that could very well rival her own. Only the
positive was mentioned that night, and only smiles could be seen on official faces.
When the broadcast ended, the public observance of the rites went into abeyance-but
the traditions went on nonetheless. It was traditional for the Empress-designate and her
husband to spend the night awake, fasting and meditating. In part this was a practical
measure, since few incoming rulers were able to get much sleep the night before the
Coronation anyway, and were glad of the chance to rehearse their part in the next day’s
festivities. In Edna’s case, part of the time was spent in consultation with her top military
advisors, going over plans to thwart the impending attack by C’s forces; the rest of her
energy was indeed devoted to meditation, under the guidance of her husband Liu, a fully
trained mystic from the planet Anares. The two of them spent many hours that night
kneeling face to face on the floor in a dimly lit room, surrounded by servants and
courtiers. The royal couple held hands, but did not speak a word; in the months since
their marriage, they had reached a development in their relationship where words were
unnecessary.
Shortly before dawn the meditations were broken along with the fast. The couple was led
to a banquet table where a sumptuous feast had been laid out for them. Custom
required, however, that they only taste from each of the plates; they had to take in some
nourishment to face the long day ahead, but at the same time they knew that too heavy a
meal might tend to make them feel logy or sick. Their selections and portions were
carefully chosen by the Imperial physician ahead of time for best effect.
Edna and her husband were then separated for the ritual bathing and dressing. Each was
anointed with scented oils and perfumes, then dressed ceremoniously by teams of
attendants. The official coronation robes worn by the Empress-designate and her consort
were centuries old, dating back to the very beginnings of the Empire. Edna wore a
sideless surcoat of cloth-of-gold, heavy with jewels, over a white satin dress with a
three-meter train; around her shoulders was a scarlet mantle edged with ermine. Her
hair, undecorated, hung straight down her back to her waist.
Liu was in a scarlet houppelande open down the front to show a robe of gleaming white.
He wore no jewels, and the fur trim on his houppelande was plain white mink. At his waist
was a gold chain belt and a sword of gold set with jewels-the consort’s sword,
deliberately blunt. Like his wife’s, his head was bare.
Once dressed, the royal couple were brought down to the entrance of the Imperial
Palace in Los Angeles, where the carriage was waiting to take them to Bloodstar Hall.
This was an actual horse-drawn coach, gilded wood with enormous gems set in it, pulled
by a team of six snow-white horses. It took close to four hours to travel from palace to
hall in this primitive conveyance, and the route along the way was jammed with loving,
screaming subjects all craning to get even a glimpse of their new monarch. Edna waved
to the crowds until she thought her arm was going to fall out of its socket, and she and
Liu tossed out handfuls of tiny coins that had been minted especially for this occasion.
Lord Bloodstar was waiting for them on the front steps of the hall when the carriage
pulled up. He carried with him the ceremonial sword of state, and he ordered her to halt
while they went through a traditional challenge and response, at the end of which he
acknowledged her as the rightful ruler of the Empire. Then, carrying the sword before
him, he led her up the stairs and inside the front door where he announced the arrival of
the Empress-designate to the assembled lords and ladies of the Empire.
At this point, Edna accepted the sword from Lord Bloodstar and began her long, slow
march down the aisle while the nobles in attendance rose to their feet and watched her in
silence. All across the Galaxy, trillions of people were glued to their trivision sets,
watching the incredible spectacle at home, at their jobs, or wherever they happened to
be. Behind Edna as she walked came her retinue of ladies-in-waiting, carrying her train;
then her husband and his retinue; and finally Lord Bloodstar bringing up the rear.
Normally the Archbishop of Earth would have been waiting alone on the platform ahead
of her-but that was because the preceding emperor seldom had the chance to attend the
coronation of his successor. Today, William Stanley stood there beside the Archbishop.
He was clad in a white silk shroud, a garment symbolizing his ceremonial “death,” which