Seven Days in New Crete (Penguin Modern Classics) (28 page)

‘Isn’t it true then, about you and Sally?’

‘I don’t know what See-a-Bird has told you. All that you need to know is this: that I didn’t share Sally’s cloak on the grave, and that I’ve no intention of ever seeing her again, even if it means changing my estate. You needn’t give up hope on my account. I’m no rival for her affections. But if you want my advice, it’s this: sheer off, or you’ll get burned like your brother! That woman has wildfire in her hair.’

Starfish never quite understood my broken New Cretan, and I had to repeat myself. This time I spoke more plainly: ‘Tell Sally that I’m off, that I’ve finished with this house for good and all, and that I’m now going to Dunrena to change my estate and live with Sapphire. Do you understand that?’

This made him even sadder than before. ‘But she loves you; she can’t live without you!’ he groaned. ‘She’ll never invite me to her bed, never!’

See-a-Bird grinned broadly. ‘As an egg without a top,’ he said, ‘I fully appreciate the hopelessness of the situation. Well, I expect I’ll be seeing you tonight at Dunrena; I’m supposed to be there.’

He gave my horse a friendly whack on the rump and sent him bounding down the road. At the stile where I had met Quant, I turned and cantered up to the quince-hut to make sure that Sally hadn’t lied to the groom. The door stood open. ‘Sapphire!’ I called, but there was no answer. It occurred to me that she might have finished her picture and left it behind; so I dismounted and went in to look around. I found nothing until, as I was going out again, I happened to knock against the table, and a thin elm-board about a foot and a half square was dislodged from a rest underneath the table-top and clattered to the floor.

I picked it up. It was Sapphire’s painting and the subject was Nimuë’s removal of the Rogue Trinity. I recognized Machna, the sharp-nosed god of Science, clasping a handful of broken machinery; Pill, the shifty-eyed god of Thieves, with crumpled sheets of paper strewn behind him; Dobeis, the plump god of Money, with golden coins dropping from a hole in his trouser pocket. On the left of the picture the young Goddess, mounted on a white horse, was dragging the three corpses towards a river by a rope hitched around their necks. A covey of cranes flew overhead. On that side of the river all was desolation – burned houses, sparse crops, skeleton animals and birds, bloated corpses; but on the far side the crops were tall and abundant, the animals sleek, the people active and radiant, the houses undamaged.

I held the picture to the light and studied its background; then I saw that the prosperity had its limits. The fertile scene was bounded by another river half-hidden by alders, and beyond these I caught a glimpse of mackerel sky, and of a hill with two naked figures on it running hand in hand – a man and a woman with averted faces, pursued by a snake that brandished a club in a loop of its tail. I disliked the look of that sky. ‘It’s going to blow hell’s bells over there within an hour,’ I said to myself. ‘And who are those people? Sapphire and I? Or any man and any woman? They seem to be running for shelter to that cave under the hawthorn. Let’s hope they get there before the snake strikes. Poor Sapphire: she must have known when she came out of her trance and looked at her painting that there’s a snagged and slimy river to cross, with trouble in plenty on the far bank.’

I returned the picture to the rack, went out and closed the door behind me. As I turned round, I nearly collided with Nervo. ‘Hullo!’ I said. ‘Greetings in Mari’s name. What are you doing here, if I may ask?’

‘On my way to Dunrena,’ he said briskly. ‘The village contingent has marched ahead, I was about to overtake them. Then I saw you and cut across the fields. I came to thank you. Just so.’

‘Thank me? Whatever for?’

‘You have been very kind to me. You’ve given me a new nickname – Nervo the Fearless. For that I’m most grateful. If a new nickname is bestowed on a man, he accepts it without question. I do so now. It’s as if I woke in the morning and accidentally put on my shirt inside out. It would be unwise and ungrateful to change it.’

‘I don’t see the connexion.’

‘It’s quite simple. Ill luck threatens me under my old nickname. You change it; ill-luck is baulked. Or ill-luck threatens me in my working shirt, but I happen to put it on inside out. Ill-luck strikes my chest, finds the button turned inwards, cannot undo it. Ill-luck retires. Just so.’

‘I wonder you don’t always wear your working shirt inside out and change your nickname daily.’

‘That would be cowardly,’ he said.

I did not pursue the subject. ‘I’m going to Dunrena too,’ I said. ‘May I have the pleasure of your company?’

‘By all means.’

We turned back to the road and jogged along towards Rabnon.

‘Wonderful clover fields,’ I said. ‘What’s the secret?’

‘No secret. We return to the soil what we take from the soil. Just so. Seeds planted on a lucky day and rolled in well. Prayers morning and night, and pests kept under control. No secret. No! The clover’s looking fine, Mari be praised! So, for the matter of that, is the dana… And yet.’

‘And yet,’ he repeated a minute or two later.

‘Something on your mind, Nervo?’ I prompted him.

‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘I wish I knew what it was. That’s the trouble. What can it be? The commons work hard and pray hard. My private affairs are in order. That little matter of the brutch has been settled. The Goddess has sent rain – not too much, not too little. Yet something’s wrong: very wrong, I fear. A feeling only. Nothing I can lay my finger on.’

‘Are you too polite to suggest that it is connected with my arrival in your village? If you think it’s that, please say so. I won’t be offended.’

Nervo looked away as he said: ‘Just now a carter came to me in great terror. He thought he’d seen you coming out of the Nonsense House.’

‘I spent the night there.’

‘Never!’

‘And why not?’

‘It’s certain death to be in a nonsense house between midnight and noon.’

‘Maybe, but mine’s a special case. I’m protected. I admit that it was stupid of me to frighten the carter; I suppose I should have drawn a look-away symbol on my forehead.’

He made no further comment until we had clattered through the cobbled streets of Rabnon. Then he said in a worried voice: ‘Tell me something. What’s going on at the Magic House? The health of Horned Lamb depends on the magicians. Just so. And extraordinary rumours are flying about.’

‘What are people saying?’

‘I hardly like to tell you.’

‘Go on!’

‘That you brought a brutch with you; that it’s bewitched all five of your companions; that it’s already removed three of them; that it won’t rest until the house is emptied. And you know what
that
means.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t.’

‘There’s a popular rhyme:

When in a house of five
Not one is left alive,
Look to the skies,
Watch the North wind rise.
But until that event
Work, be content.

Just so. It’s reassuring. All’s well while our magicians are in their house. And so it will remain while we all work, and work hard. Then a vacancy occurs in the Magic House; and what happens? They fill it on the following Monday, and the warning loses its force. But today is Thursday, and count! Apart from yourself, how many magicians are left? Two only! A disaster! What if something should happen to those?’

‘Thank you, Nervo. Already yesterday I had a feeling that the village was getting nervous about my presence. So I’ve decided to leave, though I disclaim all responsibility for what’s happened. I’m going to Dunrena now, and none of you will need to see me again. It’s embarrassing to be one of Mother Carey’s chickens and portend storms. However, if you care to know exactly what’s been happening –’

I broke off. Nervo had turned deathly pale, slipped from his chestnut and thrown himself on the grass by the roadside, where he lay as if dead. Red Thunder nuzzled him sympathetically for half a minute, and meeting with no response wandered off down the road. I caught him, hitched him to a tree and stood looking down on Nervo in complete bewilderment. ‘Come on, old chap, do get up! I’m sorry if I accidentally said the wrong thing. I’m a stranger here, you know.’

He remained there, prone and motionless, and when I had satisfied myself that he was breathing and not in pain, I mounted and rode on. What could I have said to cause him so much distress? Could it have been my mention of Mother Carey? Ridiculous!

The road was crowded with people walking or riding to Dunrena, thirty ass-carts full of elders, and crowds of children trooping behind a priest. Every village and town had sent a contingent of twenty-two men and women, consisting of a captain, a magician, twelve commoners, six servants and two recorders. The men carried heavy packs, tent poles, rolls of white canvas, cooking pots and umbrellas; the women only umbrellas and satchels. I overtook Rabnon first, then Zapmor, exchanging friendly greetings with them as I passed; then our own village. I was glad to find Quant marching along at the head and walked my horse beside him.

‘Aren’t you short of a captain and a magician?’ I asked him.

‘At the moment. But Sally’s gone ahead and Nervo’s had some business to finish and promised to catch us up soon.’

‘That’s awkward; because I left him lying on his face by the roadside, about a mile back.’

‘Did you indeed? I hope he’s not ill.’

‘I don’t think so. But I believe I said something I shouldn’t have said. He threw himself suddenly on the grass and refused to move.’

‘What did you say to him? Perhaps you’d better spell it, though, or you may send us all down on our faces.’

‘I mentioned a legendary character called Mother C.A.R.E.Y. I spoke in New Cretan, using
Mam
for mother.’

‘How very unfortunate; that happens to be a dreadfully sacred name. It’s lucky for you that you’re under protection. She’s the Goddess of Wind and when initiates hear her name spoken in the Mysteries, they fling themselves down at once and wait until they hear the counter-charm. Otherwise she’d blow them over the moon.’

‘Heavens! I’d better ride back and say the counter-charm. What is it?’

‘Excuse me, but I’m under oath neither to say, spell or even hint at it.’

‘That’s terrible. Do we leave him there until the grass grows over him?’

‘A little grass won’t hurt him,’ said Quant drily. ‘Unfortunately, there’s only one person capable of undoing the charm, and that’s the High Priestess, and she’s not allowed to say either the name or the charm except at the winnowing-feast once a year; but the corn’s still quite green. Anyhow, don’t haul him to his feet, or the Goddess will blow him over the moon.’

‘Do you believe that, Quant?’

‘About being blown over the moon? Well, it’s our way of speaking. I don’t know how literally to take it, because nobody has ever dared to transgress the order. All I can say is that people who transgress in other ways, die in other ways.’

‘How did Sapphire die?’

‘Oh, she was given a dose of the drug we call lethea. Her transgression was an involuntary one, so she’s to be reborn as a commoner. If she had deliberately secreted that metal affair because she admired it, that would have been an obvious lapse in taste and she’d be reborn as a servant. Of course, the servants’ estate is as honourable as the commons, but since they have, by definition, no taste of their own they’re permitted to furnish their living quarters with any glittering rubbish they please. However, in either case the fault is venial, not mortal. For a mortal transgressor there’s no rebirth. Being bad, and knowing himself bad, he’s hypnotized by a witch and made to leap head first from a cliff.’

‘Then is there a statutory penalty for every form of transgression? I’d like to see your code.’

‘No, we have no code, no lawyers, no judges. Each case is heard by the transgressor’s estate as if it were the first and only one, and judgement is left to himself to pronounce after he’s heard his own evidence.’

‘I don’t quite follow.’

‘A person may have persuaded himself that he was within his rights in doing this or that; it’s only when he describes it to his neighbours that he can make up his mind.’

‘Are there never any miscarriages of justice?’

‘I don’t think that I can answer that question; there are no penalties, you see.’

‘But isn’t death a penalty?’

‘Not with us. It’s a gift.’

‘I see,’ I said doubtfully. ‘Well, where am I likely to find Sapphire?’

‘You mustn’t call her that any longer, but she’s to be reborn as the daughter of my late sister, who’s a commoner at Dunrena now. My sister sentenced herself to death for a similarly venial transgression. But that was long ago.’

‘What did she do?’

‘She lost her temper at croquet and threw her mallet into a tulip bed. She complained that Mallet-head was giving her advice and putting her off her game. Everyone was relieved when she went; she hadn’t the makings of a recorder.’

‘Well, Quant, don’t you think I’d better go back to Nervo?’

‘Why? What good can you hope to do?’

‘I might try saying that name backwards.’

‘There can be no harm in trying,’ Quant said non-committally. ‘But probably we’ll have to build a little hut over him and wait for the autumn equinox.’

Ten minutes later I was back on the outskirts of Rabnon. Nervo was still lying palefaced in the same position, and ants were crawling all over him. The silly chump! A captain, too! For a moment I was tempted to lug him to his feet. Then I remembered that he had gone out of his way to thank me for his new nickname, and decided that it would be unkind in the circumstances to get him blown over the moon – whatever that meant. Besides, I might feel the draught myself.

‘Come back the word I spoke just now!’ I said; but nothing happened. Then I tried: ‘
YERAC MAM
’, in not very convincing tones.

Nervo stirred uneasily, and I repeated the word with more confidence. It worked. He sprang up, bowed nine times to the North like a monkey on a stick, and ran to mount his horse.

He did not seem in the least scared or put out, and we resumed our conversation at the sentence before the last. So far as I could make out, he was quite unaware of what had happened. ‘A very odd thing, Sir,’ he said. ‘Ants are crawling up and down my neck. Decidedly odd. They must have worked their way up from the horse’s hooves. I wonder what they portend. Do you happen to know?’