The Onion Eaters (2 page)

Under the dripping ramparts Clementine turns the huge key in the lock and Tim puts his great white hand against the door which swings open. All of us standing in the centre of this cavernous black and white tiled hall. A stone stairway ascending four landings towards a skylight in the distant ceiling. Shadowy portraits of solemn faces and ancient instruments of war, lances, bludgeons, swords, shields and suits of armour.

With terrifying swiftness the afternoon turned into night. Fred the pig seemed to know his way round the castle. And I followed him. Honking up the stairs, peering into battlements, bedrooms and water closets. Until somewhere on the second floor he rushed off down the hall and out of sight.

I stood in some alarm listening as Tim’s great black boots went down the granite steps and away over the stony road. A trembling took me. Standing in a darkened library. Trying to light that candle. So hopeful on the mantel. Each match’s flame strangely dimming and going out. A nervous sob floating ceilingwards from between my lips. I was not, I am certain, the only soul in this house.

A faint western glow between the curtains. Covering a great red and green stained glass window. Cabinets stacked with trays covered with pieces of stone. Drawers and drawers of birds’ eggs. Mouldering books, bindings hanging off by threads, shelf upon shelf. Rolls of maps, sheaves of mildewed papers scattered across a vast desk. Upon which I may presently dance to improve the gaiety of this joint. Or safer and quicker open the drapes. Wide.

Clayton Clementine reached up to take a tasselled cord between his fingers. Giving it a downward tug. A wall of thick crimson fabric plummeted together with a long heavy brass rail. The first enveloping Clementine who fought like a demon till the latter clonked him unconscious on the skull.

Staggering towards the door into the great hall.
Clementine
putting out his hands to feel his way. Leaving a trail of plaster debris. Remnants of curtain flowing from his outstretched arms and a billow of dust rolling before him.
Elmer, the five and a half foot length of him not including tail stood up erect on all fours with his ears jutting out murmuring a low growl. The first laugh today.

The big bow wow’s tail wagging. Jumps up to lick my face. With relief that I am not a ghost. Two of us can quietly weep. Without witnesses or shame. And later find somewhere to sleep. In the endless stale air and solitude. Every shutter I open a stack of dead flies tumble out. I could cavort in an angry circle, shake the clenched fists around the skull. And maybe with a stroke of good luck knock myself out again. For the night.

A squeak of floorboard and a squeal of spring in a door hinge. Clementine turning around. To face an opening door under the staircase. Beneath an apron of candlelight a liveried foot peeking out. With holes in the hose.
Followed
by other feet and foots. Five persons lining right up in front of me. In one nice neat row of astonishment. And strange what one’s eye sees instead. A giant thistle growing right out from the bottom step of the stairs.

‘Ahem sir.’

Three ladies, a boy and a man. The latter with a clear throat has just taken a pace forward. Inclining his head to one side. Folding the biggest hands I have ever seen across his flies. Just beneath a black thin brocaded
waistcoat.
Two small eyes, a monocle over one. And moisture adhering to the end of a hawked nose.

‘Ahem. And excuse me sir. And welcome. We would have had the place tidied up a bit but we had no warning of your arrival sir. May I be so bold as to present Miss Ovary the cook, Ena upstairs maid, Imelda downstairs, and Oscar the boy. I am the footman. But these years since I have been butler. Here be the keys to the wine cellars sir.’

‘O boy.’

‘He’s at your service sir.’

‘I mean o boy. O boy o boy.’

‘Yes sir, yes sir.’

‘I mean who is employing you.’

‘Well sir. We have always gone with the place as you might say. We’ve been waiting this long time for sign of
you to come. Every Christmas the table has been set. Miss Ovary has done in the kitchen down there for donkey’s years. Oscar the boy is trained by meself. Ena and Imelda are apprenticed parlour maids. There hasn’t been much doing here since her ladyship left and no grander lady lived, God bless her. Meantimes we do be putting right the odd dilapidation and keeping the portals locked and the intruders at bay if you follow me sir.’

‘I’m afraid I simply cannot afford to employ anyone.’

‘Ah now sir, who said a thing about employ, wages or the like. We’re content with a roof now and again and a bit of board. When you’ve got a windfall will be time enough for talk of such a nature.’

‘What’s your name.’

‘Percival sir. I have a wee bit of the staggers in the left leg, but watch now while I do this little jig. Now come on you old feet down there. La dee dee deda. I could tap dance down a rainbow. Would you think now there was a mite wrong in that limb. Would you now.’

‘No you wouldn’t.’

‘Now sir settle your mind. And let me do the worrying. That’s a fine animal. Would he be of the horse family.’

‘He’s Elmer. A dog.’

‘You don’t say. Didn’t I think he was some kind of grass eating beast. Welcome Elmer. We’ll scrape up a few of your tasty bits and morsels. He’ll take a bit of feeding. Will you reside in the King’s room sir.’

‘I don’t know, where is it.’

‘It’s the octagonal room in the end of the southwest wing. Traditional for the master of the house. A fine room facing out to the sea. I’ll get these bags up there now and give it a wipe around. Sure now Miss Ovary will have a bite to eat ready for your worship. Will you be praying this evening sir.’

‘Probably.’

‘Ena see the chapel is dusted out and the candles lit for his worship. Now sir, I see you’ve had an inopportune occurrence. In the library if I’m not mistaken.’

‘No you’re not mistaken.’

‘I’ll have a change of clothes out in no time.’

Percival making a little clap of the hands. The three ladies courtesied and Oscar gives a deep nod of the head. Ending this little confrontation of echoing voices here in the candlelight. The door squealing closed under the
staircase.
And a heavy long sighing moaning murmuring out of various near and distant apertures. Followed by a deep rumble.

‘What’s that.’

‘Ah it do be the waters sir.’

‘What waters.’

‘The sea waters that come up the tunnels in the high tide into the dungeons. Sends the wind rushing up. On a wild night it’s like a war down there. Now sir you’ll be wanting some beasts soon. To eat down the grass that’s got out of hand. Tim the giant is your man, great with cattle. I do meself keep a patch of a garden and know just that bit about stock rearing. Once we had the light electric in here. But it was forever throwing shocks at you. I threw a pail of water on one of them wires smoking away and didn’t a flash come up the water and knock me clear across the room. A candle is your man every time. And take this one sir, to light your way.’

Percival gone. Come Elmer. Just step over here with me and we’ll yank out this thistle, god damn it’s sharp as well as pale green and awesomely evil. Forgot to ask Percival the way to the King’s room. How do you like that. A staff. Trots out from under the stairs. With musical instruments we could have had a recital on the spot. Maybe travel abroad to pick up some change as a dance band in selected watering places. Instead of slowly starving together. In this colossus.

Clementine clearing a little space at the vast desk in the library. Writing down the names on a damp sheet. Keep a record. To share out the windfall when it comes. In the form of plunging plasters, rafters, tapestries and drapes. At least one is not alone with these moans and shudderings. Be frozen now instead of frightened to death, Among vegetations sprouting from the floors. And a nice
little group of lethal looking mushrooms in this drawer. Growing out amid more maps and ledgers.

‘Excuse me your worship. Your bath is drawn.’

‘Eeee. Sorry. You gave me a fright Percival. How did you get over there.’

‘It be a passage from the pantry. Sir.’

‘In future until I get used to this place perhaps you could approach from the front.’

‘Very good sir. Now if you’ll follow me I’ll show you to your quarters.’

Clementine following. Pulling a wobbling Elmer in the flickering candlelight up the stairs of the great hall. Through a door and down a long corridor. Turning right up steps. Along another hall past doors, mouldering
paintings,
shelves of stacked books. Through a narrow entrance and up circular stone steps.

‘Now in there sir, is what’s known as the coffin room.’

‘Good lord. That’s a coffin.’

‘Ah it tis indeed.’

‘Is it empty.’

‘Ah for the time being I think so sir.’

A tall tapestried bed. Under a vaulted ceiling. Candles aflame in front of a mirror. Steam rising from a copper bath in the middle of the floor. Elmer lapping up a few sups. One’s pathetic wardrobe laid out. Tattered kimono. My mauve smoking jacket is about the only thing I possess which might go with this house. Other than my socks holed in heels and toes. When summer comes of course, I’ll blast a few tennis balls off a battlement in my jock strap and tennis shorts.

‘There sir. You’ll be the better for a hot bath and a dry off in front of the fire. I have at your convenient disposal a water can from out of the conservatorium. Handy for a rinse.’

‘This is quite splendid.’

‘It’s nothing. Nothing at all. And now if the whole world was against you you’d come to not a bother here. The chain and pulley there lowers an iron door thick as your fist.’

‘You don’t think it will come down by accident and lock me in.’

‘Ah never. Sure you’d have it raised up in half an hour if you put your back into it.’

‘Percival you must know a great deal of the history of the castle.’

‘Ah just the bits and pieces I hear tell about. I’m nearly reared in the shadow of the place, the other side of the mountain. You don’t want to give a mind now to the
shocking
scandals that have haunted the castle down through the ages. It was Clementine of The Three Glands himself
beheaded
sixty traitors in this very chamber. The block is there beyond in the coffin room. A fine thick piece of hawthorne. He must have had a pair of arms on him. The flood of blood must have been something shocking.’

‘O God.’

‘What’s the matter sir.’

‘Well Percival, as a matter of fact I’m just that bit apprehensive. I mean I’m new to the place.’

‘Ah now you’ll sleep like a baby. That’s what I was going to tell you. The bed there now.’

‘Please. Don’t tell me. Perhaps in the morning. And I’m not quite sure I’ll want to hear it then either.’

‘Very good sir.’

‘Is there a piece of soap.’

‘Ah soap. The soap. Now the soap. Well let me see now. Soap. You know sir, I don’t think there has been much need of it around for a while now.’

‘There’s no soap.’

‘I wouldn’t say that now. I’d say that between you
wanting
soap now and the fact that I might not be able to lay my hand on a bit of it that there would be a gap of time affording discomfort unless sir you might on the spot now convinced yourself you didn’t need it at all.’

‘What’s that.’

‘Excuse me sir, I think there must be someone at the main door. It’s the big bell that rings down there in the courtyard below. I won’t be a minute.’

The comfort to skin, soul and future that this water gives.
To lie back soaking. In the execution room. Ancestor took no shit from anyone. Chopping block’s in there to prove it. Just two months ago I stepped down the ladder of a ship. And onto a tender that bumped through the tide to a town of church steeples and bright painted houses along a river’s banks. To see the first of this land. Dropped a tear or two looking back up the black hull of the vessel on which out of a few female strangers I had made some new friends. Tossed as we were through the arse of a hurricane across a cold ocean.

‘Excuse me sir, there’s a gentleman from out of a motor car wanting to see you sir. I couldn’t catch the name it being of a foreign sound. It was about accommodation sir. Shall I tell him you are otherwise engaged.’

‘No. Tell him to wait.’

‘Very good sir.’

Poor Percival huffing and puffing, lungs wheezing chasing up and down the stairs. Keeps fitting the monocle back in his eye. It falls out every time he opens his mouth. Giving him a look of distressed astonishment. A caller at the castle. In this bereft clime resistance to intrusion lowered to nil. On the other hand always nice to flex one’s social muscles. Feel the size of this. Ladies.

Candles lit on a balcony chandelier made the great hall darker than ever. Clementine in tennis trousers, mauve smoking jacket with clashing pink cravat and billiard
slippers,
scuffling down the wide marble steps. Grinding in the mortar dust fallen from inaccessible interstices far above. Elmer following, deliberating, his ears hanging
forward
either side of his big black nose, reaching the bottom stair and promptly lying down with a weary groan.

A gentleman with sparse light hair on his high domed head stands unshivering. In an open necked shirt, skimpy sleeveless yellow sweater, his feet in green socks and black sandals. Holding his hands stiffly at his sides, he bows deeply.

‘Ah good evening, good person.’

‘Good evening.’

‘May I enquire firstly of your good health.’

‘Yes. Currently it’s untroubled.’

‘I am pleased to hear that. And also, may I comment upon the splendour of this dwelling.’

‘By all means.’

‘Clearly early Christian with its finely cut stone arched construction. Although of a later period the ribbed groined vaulting is of especial refinement. Most interesting that the geometric tracery where minutiae charms with the arabesque is not dwarfed. But permit me. I am Erconwald.’

‘How do you do.’

‘I am with three friends. We have motored some distance this day. If you could forgive me my unforgivable intrusion upon your esteemed privacy we would be most grateful for a night’s accommodation. May I offer you an inhalation. Of dried carefully selected tender parts of hemp.’

‘Thank you no, not for the moment.’

‘Then will you pardon me.’

‘Of course.’

‘One matter does trouble. Although the arabesque is not dwarfed it would almost suggest that the geometric tracery was an afterthought.’