Longhand and Lotsmore

By Adam Scribentis

A satirical thriller in the tradition of Evelyn Waugh. Two English Catholics, one a Holy See diplomat, the other a former Army officer, revisit the Republic of Sardoniki, where Vasilissa, the malfeasant President, contends with autonomists, journalists, the judiciary, the local Orthodox hierarchy and her own military chief of staff during an incendiary week in politics. (50,000 words)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adam Scribentis
• Release date: Apr 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224521111

Book preview

For the Reader’s Most Kind Attention

Longhand and Lotsmore is the final form of a tale conceived in 1999, completed and revised in 2011/12, left fallow for a decade and revised again for publication from 2022 to 2024. Almost all of its narrative elements were in place by 2011/12. In the last phase of revision, some modifications to the plot were made for reasons of narrative logic, not for the sake of topicality. The storyteller thanks all who, for friendship or money (or both), have aided and abetted the progress of the work.

The story is set, for the most part, in the Republic of Sardoniki, an imaginary Greek-speaking country of Eastern Europe. The characters and events are fictional. What is more, any similarity of name between any of the characters and any real person of the present or recent past is (it ought to go without saying) entirely coincidental. The same applies to the fictional institutions and companies in the story. The names of imaginary cities and countries have been invented or are used fictitiously. And neither the General’s Kokoni nor Mr Ben Ezra’s tabby is based on your dog or cat.   

How to pronounce the Greek names in this story

Many of the Greek names that occur here really exist as names, some are genuine Greek nouns or adjectives co-opted as names, others have been invented. Several names are archaic in form: the Republic of Sardoniki is not Greece, and its dialect includes forms that are not current in Demotic Greek.

The mythological names Cassandra, Cerberus, Cyclops, Hercules, Prometheus and Semele are given in their Latin forms, and their usual English pronunciation is supposed. All other Greek names, including forms of Semitic names, are transcribed to reflect modern Greek pronunciation. These are listed below, with each name marked for stress. Additional points of pronunciation are noted at need. The names are grouped in order of occurrence, after the number of the chapter and episode in which they occur for the first time.

I.1. Nía, Kallístos Leonídis, Athanasía, Kosmás, Stéfas, Daríos, Línos, Spýros, Rávdos, Kratistópolis, Sardoníki, Sevastós, Dalmátios, Koprónymos, Apollonía, Vasílissa Athemístou.

Note: e is pronounced as in English red, i and y like ee as in see. d is pronounced like th in father. Dalmatios has four syllables (Dal-má-ti-os).

I.2. Kónon Konstantínou, Léaina, Lígdos.

Note: ai also sounds like e as in red. Leaina has three syllables (Lé-e-na).     

I.3. Erithía, Theodoúlos, Éftropos, Papías, Sympósion, Vássos Várvaros.

I.4. Dikaiópolis.

II.1. Láios Aígagros, Ópsiva, Lázaros, Aspasía.

Note: The ai of Laios is pronounced ey as in whey (Léy-os É-ga-gros).

II.2. María Kalimithéa, Grigórios.

II.3. Éktor Pamprágmon, Scholiastís, Thékla, Palmýra, Marsýas, Lýkos Varýs, Dimítrios.   

III.1. Ánna Kοloúthou, Níki, Éfi.

III.4. Níkos Palínouros, Theotókos, Erimópolis.

III.5. Anástasis.

IV.2. Christós Pantokrátor.

VI.3. Kassiópi.

Peter Lotsmore’s Song

To a tune by Holst

Duty called and sent me serving in a land across the sea,

Where a strange, hard queen sat waiting, with soldier’s work for me.

Queen of arms and occult payment, credit failed the words she said, 

And there lay, for all her lying, the wounded and the dead.

The archangel’s note rings cryptic at the running of her guns:

I fly back to you, Vasilissa, the route doom also runs!

I. MONDAY

I.1. The Invigilator

The General was standing with his back to Nia as she picked up a fallen weapon and charged towards him amid the debris of combat. Taking expert aim at him, she squeezed the trigger, shouting at the top of her voice: "I am the Queen of the guerrillas, and you’re dead!"

In the mirror by the wardrobe, where he was straightening his tie, General Kallistos Leonidis saw Nia’s mother take hold of her and swing her out of the way. Leave Daddy alone now, dear, said Athanasia. He has to see the President this morning.

Yerk! said Nia’s older brother, Kosmas. The Wicked Witch!

Where did you hear that? Athanasia snapped back at him.

That’s what Uncle Stefas said, replied the seven-year-old.

Well, we don’t repeat everything Uncle Stefas says, Athanasia retorted, with more vehemence than conviction.

The General turned and made towards the door. His wife intercepted him. I don’t suppose you’ll find out today when you can take your leave?

No, he said. I’m sure that’s not on the agenda.

Athanasia persisted. Will you be here for Darios’s birthday?

We’ll see.

You know – Athanasia was interrupted by a whine of distress, followed by a chuckle of anarchic malice, rising from the room off to the left. 

Darios! she shouted. Stop torturing Linos: he doesn’t appreciate it. She turned back to her husband. You know it’s Darios’s birthday on Thursday.

The General nodded. I know.

Have you ever been here for his birthday?

I’m sure I have, he replied. At least once.

When?

Oh, about five years ago.

Darios is four! the protest began. It was broken off when Athanasia noticed the grin that told her that her husband’s watch, which he was now consulting, was not the only thing he had been winding up.

Look, I have to be going, he apologized. Mustn’t keep the Witch waiting.

Athanasia shook her head.

Are you going to give her hell? Kosmas asked gravely.

No, son, said the General, laying his hand on the boy’s head. I’m afraid, he sighed, it’s going to be entirely the other way round. He kissed Athanasia’s cheek placatingly (or so he hoped), rubbed the ears of Spyros, the benignly watchful Kokoni, and returned the wave of six-year-old Nia, who, having blithely blown him off the battlefield, apparently did not mean him to take it personally. Leaving the house, he was met by his aide, Major Ravdos, who was waiting for him with the staff car that would drive them to the Cabinet Office in Kratistopolis, the capital of Sardoniki.

The Republic of Sardoniki, governed by an elected ruling president from the majority party of the legislature, borders on Ghimir to the south and Krastina to the south-east. It is ninety-six per cent Greek-speaking (with its own dialect) and ninety-five per cent Orthodox; the air is warm but respirable; its politics are volatile but usually of no more than marginal interest to the outside world. At that moment, however, the designs of the Western Intergovernmental Arms and Security Convention (WIASCO) had given the country a strategic significance that drew it out of its obscurity. Hostilities between the border tribes of the Rustim and the Haman were apt to provide a casus belli against President Kalgan of Ghimir, neighbour and supporter of the Haman. The two tribes were the remainder of the peoples whose incursion into Sardoniki in the thirteenth century had been halted by the national hero King Sevastos, who was yet never able to dislodge them entirely. Hence the Disputed Zone; hence, too, the session of the President’s Council on Internal and External Security to which the General was now travelling.

It was the feast day of Sardoniki’s patron saint, the tenth-century bishop and martyr Dalmatios. Kopronymos, the Governor of Sardoniki, had employed a heathen bodyguard from the North, led by Bodvar Seal-biter. The Bishop had always been opposed to this policy, having had experience of Norse adventurers from his time in the Emperor’s service. At that time there was a noble lady in the province, Mother Apollonia, who lived as a recluse. One day, one of Bodvar’s boys approached her and attempted gallantry, whereupon the venerable lady drew the man’s sword from its scabbard and killed him on the spot. His kinsmen did what was expected of them and burned the hermitage with its occupant. Bishop Dalmatios demanded action of the Governor, and when the Governor failed to give satisfaction, he excommunicated him. Soon afterwards, the Bishop was ambushed by Norsemen, who trapped him, with his retinue, in a ring of fire. The saint walked through the fire and came out unharmed on the other side, only to be felled by the bowmen of the ambushing party. The Patriarch of Constantinople vindicated the martyred Bishop, so that the Governor was required to expel Bodvar and his men as a condition for having the excommunication lifted. Kopronymos, who had not entirely escaped public suspicion in the matter, had little choice but to comply. The Norsemen made a last attempt to hold on to one corner of land, but all fell when it came to a fight. The saint is said to have prophesied this to his companions in the ring of fire, and, before he walked out to his death, to have encouraged them with a final enigma: He who sleeps, let him wake up!

The feast of Saint Dalmatios is not an official public holiday. Nevertheless, half the capital was more or less taking the day off to decorate the streets with palms and flags. It would, of course, require a further day off on Tuesday to take them down. In short, Kratistopolis was enjoying a particularly long weekend. People loafed about the streets; cheery, stocky lads and big, laughing girls chattered and flirted in the mellow September sun. The General smiled briefly as he passed them by, his car holding its sober course for the Cabinet Office.

Do you know what they want with us this time? the General asked casually.

No idea, sir, replied the Major, duplicating the impression of nonchalance, except that some official from the Convention is sitting in.

In the conference room, they found the other members of the Security Council already assembled. The Vice-President sat on the left; in the next places sat the Defence Secretary and the Secretary of State for the Interior. The Foreign Secretary and the Attorney General sat opposite them, a little further down the table from a man the General had not seen before. This, he supposed, was the WIASCO official. The short, monochrome figure of the Vice-President appeared all the more slight and tenebrous next to the person who occupied the chief place at the far end of the table.

In the memoirs of the consummate explorer Duggan Castlemaine, the author tells how he once fell into an obscure pit, landing hard on the dark earth and profiting little from the sunlight skimming the shaft above him. He was aware, however, of the bars of a cage inches away from his face, and of the querulous imperial growl of the creature confined within it. He glimpsed the fangs and muzzle of the tigress as she railed perilously at him; he heard the beast’s paw beating against the bars as the claws tore at the narrow space between the cage and him. He knew that as long as he did nothing provocative, such as advancing, the danger of the cat remained potential, and he could stay in its presence unscathed. But the creature’s power to pounce, to strike, to dislocate and tear was not diminished. It was constraint, not tameness, that prevailed against the anger of the beast, and he knew that if he was to extract himself from his mishap, he must not forget it.

Such, mutatis mutandis, was the General’s reaction to the President, who looked up from her place at the conference table as he entered the room.

Her Excellency President Vasilissa Athemistou greeted the General and invited him to be seated. He took his place opposite the President, while Major Ravdos sat down beside him. The President then turned to the stylish occupant of the place nearest her left hand, introducing him as Garrison Duello, the WIASCO official. Under the smiling scrutiny of this guest, the President addressed the assembled Council.

I think everyone at this Council will agree, she said, that the Disputed Zone remains the prime security concern, not only of this Government, but of the entire region. There was a general nod of grave assent, although all knew that this went without saying. All were aware, moreover, that by this Government the President invariably meant herself. When other members of the Government used the expression, it was often impossible to tell whether they used it in the same exclusive, monarchical sense, or included themselves in it, or even purposefully employed it as a corporate expression so as to include no one in particular. It was a conveniently, if confusingly, polyvalent term. 

The President continued. Neither the Rustim Autonomists nor the Haman, with their claim to belong to our neighbour, are going to go away any time soon. I take it that at least the second of those scenarios is unacceptable to our Convention partners. The WIASCO official nodded with quick sympathy. Of course, said the President, with just a little too much emphasis, there is a law against simply arming the Rustim militia so that they can deal with the Haman in their own way.

No one in the room was ignorant either of that law or of its occasion. The last time that a government had been caught pursuing policy by the said means, Kalgan of Ghimir had risen up at once with his finger on the trigger. War had been averted only by a swift change of government, the incoming one displaying proof of its virtue by the enactment of equally swift legislation: the present Paragraph 13 of the penal code.

Another dead end, Vasilissa continued, would be the creation of a no-man’s land between the two tribes. Although our immediate predecessors tried it, the resulting military disaster – (here she caught the General’s eye) – was the end of that solution.

An entire mine-clearance team was lost, isn’t that right? said Garrison Duello. A Haman ambush, if I’m not mistaken.

General Leonidis corrected him. There were two survivors. One was ours; the other was a British officer assigned to our operations in the Zone.

He had clearly spoken out of turn. The President has not forgotten, the Vice-President told him tartly. As a minister at the Defence Department, she interviewed the survivors.

The General glanced at the President, who seemed to be taking no interest in the interruption. He looked back at the Vice-President and nodded. I remember. 

The President went on. Thanks to our Convention partners, we now have a solution. A revised legal framework for security in the Disputed Zone will be presented to Parliament. Today.

General Leonidis turned to Major Ravdos; each read confirmation in the other’s face that the President had now come to the point of the meeting. They directed their attention back to her, expecting to hear an account of the promised legal framework.

Meanwhile, said the President, what you are about to see is a confidential illustration of the working of the DZ-1-13 satellite, which the Convention has deployed to monitor aerial activity in the Zone. Mr Duello.

The General raised his hand to catch the President’s attention, but although she certainly saw him, she ignored his gesture and allowed the WIASCO official to proceed.

Thank you, Madam President, said Duello. "We greatly appreciate your cooperation, especially in closing the airspace over the Disputed Zone to civilian aircraft. The Army will, of course, have the necessary clearance codes for use once