The Malacia Tapestry Page 27

  At one moment, the shadows beyond the road were as empty as a mask. At the next, they were torn asunder and a head as long as a canoe was thrust into view. Behind its smooth snout, its eyes were sunk under brows of bone which led into the massed warts and folds of an enormously thick neck. The head twisted once to left and once to right before cracking open, revealing serrated rows of teeth, as it let forth a bellow of wrath.

  In that bellow, Armida's scream of terror was lost.

  With scarcely a pause, the devil-jaw burst forth. Betsy, Armida's little horse, drummed her hooves against the woodwork of the carriage, hurling herself against the shafts as she fought to escape.

  Armida's cry brought me at a run into the clearing. I had my spring-load at the ready. As Armida came rushing towards me, I shouted at her to jump into the carriage. I dropped to one knee and aimed the spear. A stench of decay assailed me.

  In a crisis, details are absorbed instantaneously, acted upon immediately by a brain freed from the gears of thought, digested later. As I confronted the devil-jaw, I saw that the monster had sustained a previous wound, probably in an earlier hunt, and was handicapped by a suppurating gash in the armour of its left knee-joint. I may have owed my life to that wound.

  The monster swivelled to face me. Its eyes glittered black under their horny brows. As they fixed on me, the body emerged fully from the forest. It kept coming until it reared over me on its great legs. It was three times taller than I.

  In the wash of action, I knew only the clawed, stamping feet before me, the enormous cabled belly, the jaws snapping down towards my head. I saw its rippling muscles and leaves plastered against its skin. I fired my spear into the throbbing wattles of its throat, fell over, rolled, ran like mad for the safety of the nearest tree. As I ran I drew my sword.

  Once behind the tree, I turned gasping to see how close it was.

  The devil-jaw gave a bellow like a pine being ripped asunder. Blood was belching out of its throat. Reaching up with its small forearms, it clawed savagely at the wound, at the spear. Then it went berserk.

  There was little room for it on the forest road. As it whirled, the mighty tail uprooted bushes by the verge. Smashing into young trees, the brute lumbered round in a circle and then charged forward, head out, striking almost like a giant snake. Its charge took it straight into the carriage, which shattered and flew in splinters. Armida! The pony broke free and was away.

  Hardly slowing, the brute smashed forward into the forest so close that stones hit my face. The impact when it struck a great oak was such that the ground shook.

  Without all that titanic energy scattering the wan light, the forest became doubly dark.

  By then I had my second wind. I had wounded the great ancestral; it was no longer so much to be feared. Dashing forth from shelter, I tugged the flambeau from the ground and went in pursuit. I followed the path the devil-jaw had broken, hoping there was no danger now and that a coup de grace only would be needed — and that I certainly intended to give, to make the victory doubly mine.

  But devil-jaws are almost too stupid to die. It had lost control over its movements, yet it was still on its feet, in radiant rage. A flaring orange line ran all the way down its spine, from its snout over its head to its tail. The line writhed like a rope loose in a storm at sea. Lashing its tail, the monster struggled to extricate itself from entanglements of branches — there was a mad pattern before me of leaves, scales, and twigs dancing in the dark. I could hardly get close for that flailing tail, yet something of the brute's madness affected me, so that I charged in, judging my moment, to plunge my sword into the creature's belly.

  All my strength went into that blow. My swordpoint tore through flexing scales and sank down into the vital parts beneath. I struck a second time, and a third, till blood and intestines gouted forth.

  Working in a whirl of darkness, I could hardly see what I did. I leaped back as the creature gave a convulsive thresh. Above me was the head. The eyes saw me. It could have been a trick of night and shadow that they seemed suddenly full of benign wisdom, pity — no savagery there at all, just as someone had once said it would be.

  One more great paroxysm, then the monster was dead, suspended still in an upright posture because of its entanglement with the branches. Gradually, as its muscles relaxed in death and its legs buckled, its weight brought it sliding down. Its head slammed against the ground.

  I had killed my ancestral animal.

  Staggering back to the roadway, I confronted a pallid Armida, a quaking de Lambant. She had been too scared to climb into the carriage, as I had told her to; so her life had been spared. She leant against de Lambant. Betsy cropped grass a few metres off, as if nothing had happened.

  For a while, words were beyond us all.

  'What are you doing here?' I asked Armida.

  She was trembling, too overwrought to reply.

  De Lambant said in a husky voice, 'We heard that Bedalar was at a village near Juracia. Armida said she would like me to accompany her on a visit. The information proved false — we had a trip for nothing. We were returning when we got a rock under the wheel which threw us into the ditch.'

  'Take the mare,' I said. 'We'll mount Armida on it. Ride behind her and see her safe back to her father.'

  He did not argue. Between us, we coaxed Betsy and persuaded Armida to mount. Armida was weeping. She kept saying, 'I'm all right, Perry, I'm all right' — whether to reassure me or herself I knew not. De Lambant mounted behind her.

  'What about you?' he asked. I could hardly hear what he said or answer him. The ground was heaving.

  'I'll follow on foot. Take care of her — she's in your charge.'

  'I'm all right, Perry.'

  'I'll send the guard back for you.'

  'I entrust her to you, Guy.'

  He raised a hand, raised indeed a faint smile. 'She's safe with me.' he said.

  Then I was left alone with the dying torch and the dead animal nearby.

  Weakness overcame me. My senses swam. My clothes were covered in blood, some of which was my own. My left upper arm and shoulder were bleeding freely. Staggering round as if drunk, I realized that the whole scene was bedecked with blood from the devil-jaw. The vegetation and the way underfoot were soaked with it, litres and litres of it.

  As nausea welled through me, I knew that I was badly injured. There was no recollection of receiving the hurt. Falling among the splintered trees, I managed to seat myself on the great cockerel foot of the monster, so that I should present the most effective picture when rescuers came.

  It was a long time, and a long way down the river of pain, before I heard the sound of their approach, before their torches wavered before my eyes.

  Book Three

  Castle Interior with Penitents

  The chamber in which I lay was high up in one of the towers of Mantegan Castle. Its windows overlooked the roofs of an inner court filled every day with sun. Despite the height of my window above ground, honeysuckle had climbed to the sill and beyond, finding purchase in pitted stonework. During my time abed, a furred drone of bees filled the room as they sipped nectar from the late summer blossoms.

  I recovered from my wound under my sister's care. Perhaps it was her presence which made me, in a fever, believe myself to be back in one of those afternoons of childhood, when eternity sets in shortly after lunch, to linger long after twilight in an odour of flowers and drowsy rooms.

  Katarina looked after me with the aid of her personal servant, Peggy. For most of the time we were alone together, as of old. My father was too deep in research to visit me, although he sent a note. In return, I was proud to send him one of the serrated devil-jaw teeth which were despatched to me from Juracia. Julius Mantegan and his kin had seen to it that I received the trophies which were my due as a hunter.

  My father sent a brief note of thanks for the gift, which made me weep in my weakness.

  You have cut your teeth and are a man now. My life's finished, or would be if my aches had t
heir way. So much for knowledge. We have our differences. I should tell you that when you were born you were a great joy to your mother and me. She and I were happy together. Times have changed. I have the tooth by me as I write. Forgive my scrawl. Make something of yourself.

  Your loving father.

  Of my visitors, Portinari was the most regular, calling on me every morning briefly when making deliveries for his father. He always brought with him a delicious pâté en croûte, still hot and fragrant from the oven, and never stayed long enough to see me eat it. Caylus came once, on crutches, and ate that day's pâté; he brought Bedalar, who smiled tenderly and remonstrated with her brother when he joked about the dilapidated state of the castle. De Lambant came only once, to make a great fuss of my heroism, although I was too weak on that day to do more than lie and feebly enjoy his flattery.

  Mandaro came each evening, praying with me. To him, and him only, I spoke of the visitation in the forest — the cause of, and more terrible than, the battle with the devil-jaw. Otherwise, that experience lay ever-present within me, weighty as a gall-stone.

  No letter of thanks or commendation came from Andrus Hoytola. There was a note from his wife, wishing me safe recovery. But Armida visited my bedside on three occasions, holding my hand while I was feverish, speaking soothingly. Yolaria rested her face in a corner meanwhile. The room held the scent of my love's patchouli after she had gone.

  No matter who came or went in my high room, Poseidon, the largest of the castle's cats, sat massively on the window-sill, listening to all that passed but passing no judgment. Poseidon was a comfort to my illness. All men should be like him, I thought; not striving always for gain, lust, or advancement, but content with the luxury of being. It was a Utopian dream of convalescence.

  As I recovered, the world drifted back and familiar hopes and anxieties returned. When Armida came to sit by me again, I was well enough to air a subject that troubled me.

  'Is your carriage repaired yet?' I asked her, working to the matter indirectly.

  'Another is being built, better than my old one. The Daumonds are to make me a proper little town coupe, with seventeen coats of lacquer on the outside. It is to be upholstered in white and blue Pekinese silk, with the doors, roof and blinds lined with the same material. Father says the Daumonds are the best carriage-makers in Malacia.'

  She looked more beautiful than ever, with her startling combination of golden hair and lioness eyes. I hesitated before speaking again.

  'I'm sorry your birthday carriage has made its last journey. Where had you and de Lambant been on that journey?'

  'He told you about that, I understand.'

  'Perhaps he did, but I have forgotten. Yolaria wasn't with you.'

  'There was hardly room for her as well. It is of no consequence to you what I was doing — you were busy doing other things.'

  'Armida, everything you do matters to me, for reasons you know well.'

  Armida rose and went over to the window, silhouetting herself against its light as she absent-mindedly stroked Poseidon. Yolaria looked up at her; irrelevantly, I realized that the old woman loved her charge. Then Armida turned, moving restlessly round the room as she spoke.

  'There are plenty of interests in your life about which you would not care for me to know. I'm too good-natured to press you, but what about that little penniless slut — you know whom I mean, that Progressive, Letitia Zlatorog? I suppose you pretend there is nothing going on there?'

  'Letitia Zlatorog? Oh, please, Armida, I had almost forgotten the very name. She is nothing to me, whereas you are everything.'

  Her golden eyes became stormy, her face grew hard, and she looked so fiercely down her nose that for a moment I was reminded of a bird of prey.

  'Everything, am I? Nothing, is she? You're absolutely faithless, I believe. That's what I really believe.'

  'That isn't so. As I've become more aware of your feelings I have changed. I've seen you more as you are, seen your real needs. I won't look at Letitia. It is true, as you say, that she's penniless, but she really isn't a slut, only as her financial condition forces her to be —'

  Armida turned and beckoned to Yolaria.

  'I am not remaining here if you are going to defend that wretched girl. Really, you are impossible at times!'

  I reached for her hand. 'You mentioned Letitia, I didn't — I told you I'd nearly forgotten her. Why is it always you who attack me, never I who attack you?'

  'Oh, how you twist things! It's shocking! You were making all the insinuations… You were insinuating that something went on between Guy and me. I don't see that that is any of your affair — I've told you far too much already. I'm far too honest and good-natured.'

  She began to weep. Vexed though I was with her, I could not bear to see her miserable. I climbed out of bed. Putting my good arm round her, I comforted her as best I could.

  'Listen, Armida, we must not quarrel. I did save your darling life, and the thought of it will always make me happy, so —'

  'That!' she exclaimed. 'I suppose you'll bring that up against me for the rest of your days!'

  'But I'm not bringing it up against —'

  'Don't think I'm not grateful, or my parents either, but please let the subject of your valour drop. Guy would have saved me if you hadn't.'

  'By the bones… Armida, let's not quarrel, but be fair, please. We're both alive and safe. I love you. Let's go back and be as we were when we first met, shall we, without all that jealousy, shall we?

  Sniffing, she said, 'Things can never be as they were.'

  How those words pierced me! Not so much their truth, if they were true, but the sense of her indifference to whether matters mended or not.

  'My arm will soon be better, then you'll see. Wait a week, then we'll enjoy again. I swear you are the only girl.'

  'You haven't much chance to misbehave here, have you?'

  'You are unjust to me in your heart, I don't know why. I have said I will reform and I mean to; I consult good Mandaro about it every evening. You must support, not scorn me.'

  All these things and more I tried to say lightly, but a weight settled on my heart. In whatever she did or said, I sensed that she did not want me. Nor would she say she loved me; only that I knew she loved me, or that she had said previously that she loved me. Never that she loved me in the present!

  'You must understand, Armida, that I had no intention of hurting you: There was an excess of love in me which overflowed on others. I know it should not have done when I see how it pains you. You hurt me because you are hurt. But there was no desire to gain advantage over you. I believe that you are kept prisoner too much at home, and that life should be freer for you, that love should be free.'

  She looked up at me with curiosity. 'Love free? I don't catch your meaning.'

  'Love freely received and given… Isn't that a noble ideal? I mean that I do feel jealousy, so perhaps you are right to be angry with me; but jealousy is a demeaning emotion, which should be treated as such and not indulged in. I admit I felt some jealousy and suspicion of you and Guy when I found you together. He's a good friend of mine and I should trust him. Loving you as I do, I should also trust you — and I do. I am pleased that you and he are friendly. After all, we shall see more of him when we are married. Forgive my anger, be his friend and welcome.'

  The speech was not without its effect on her. She smiled, although she did not take my hand.

  'That's kindly said.'

  I felt nobler for having said it. It was true and I strove to feel it true. Yet even as I looked at her, suspicion again overcame me. I recalled de Lambant's careless ways with women.

  Yet Guy was my friend and would surely respect the bond between Armida and me. Once more I felt how vile it was to mistrust him; he had come to see me only once because he sensed my mistrust. To thrust my doubts still deeper, I launched into my argument again, telling my fair love that I wanted only to see her happy, expanding on my nobler aspirations. She remained standing, listening gr
avely, staring out of my window.

  'This is a new side of you,' she said at last. 'You are very understanding.' That had to suffice.

  As I have said, Mandaro came to visit me every evening, his harsh grey robe wrapped about him as protection against the airs of autumn which now intruded on the early and late hours of day.

  To him, as I grew stronger, I confided my fears.

  'All fears are tokens of guilt,' he said. 'You have taken your pleasure always where you were inclined. Now you object because your beloved may be doing the same. It is not she who hurts you but your own double standard of living.'

  I shook my head. Guilt was part of his trade.

  'No, no, Father! My affairs with other women — they made me light-hearted. I have never made love to a girl I did not feel love for, but I have never been deeply in love with them; I have resisted that. They have stirred me, generated a greater love in me, and that I now offer Armida. She causes me some sorrow, but that doesn't alter my feeling for her. But I torture myself thinking that her — her emotional system may differ from mine so that she falls in love with someone else — even de Lambant — and may cease to love me. I couldn't bear that. I can't bear even for her to look coldly at me.'

  'Was it wise of you to encourage her to continue to be friendly with de Lambant? Should you not have made plain your displeasure at the relationship, as she did with your relationship with other girls?'

  'No, you see' — how to explain these worldly matters to Mandaro? — 'by putting her in a position of trust, by showing that I positively encourage their friendship, I establish a position of trust. In a position of trust, they will not go to bed together. Whereas they might do if I shouted at them and cursed them. Then they would be driven into guilt; then they would revert to the secrecy that guilt brings; more guilt would accrue. Isn't that so? Doesn't that make sense? Besides, to speak frankly, Armida is not a very forthcoming girl, Father — how could she be in that household? If Guy is good for her, then I am happy for her sake and have no wish to spoil anything. Isn't my reasoning sound?'