Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631) (40 page)

“Which was I, Nat?”

“You?” Nathaniel narrowed his Eyes. “You were stubborn, for you both heard and understood, but you would not verily perceive; even and exactly as you are doing right now.”

“Egad, Nat!” I said. “I have missed you!”

“You should have come with me,” Nathaniel said.

I shook mine Head.

“Don’t try to pretend that you do not regret it,” Nathaniel said.

“I regret that I lost my dearest Friend. Will not you come back to us, Nat?”

“I will not, even for the Love I bear you. I have escaped my Shackles, Tris; I will not put them on again.”

“’Tis no Shackle,” I protested, “to live a good Life amongst those who love you. What can those damned Gypsies offer you that we cannot?”

“Tristan,” Nathaniel said, suddenly catching hold of mine Elbows in a Grip so strong it would not have shamed Saunders Welch, and staring hard into mine Eyes. His Gaze was Firework bright. “Come with me now. Unfasten this Gate, and walk thro’ it.”

“Oh, Nat! I can’t,” I said.

“I suppose there is a Mistress.” Nathaniel broke his Stare, and rolled his Eyes toward the Sky. I could not help but smile at his
Contempt. “There is inevitably a Mistress. Who is she, Tris? Some Horse-arsed Wench with Dugs like saddle-Panniers and a Cunt like a wool Stocking, out of Shape from daily Use?—or a London poxy-Doxy who hath so skilled her Hand in th’erotick Arts she can no longer unflex all her Fingers? Whoever she is, she doth not deserve you and you should have no Scruple in abandoning her. She will crack your Heart like an Egg over your Head and spear both Testicles upon a toasting Fork; and still she will declare herself unsatisfied.”

“There is a Woman,” I said. “But she is not at all as you describe.”

“Women all,” Nathaniel said, “are precisely as I describe, unless they are unnatural Examples of the Species, and the Sex. And all are worthless to you, in the End.”

“Who says so?”

“I do; I—along with the sorry Majority of Men upon this stinking, Wench-infested Earth.”

“I am not one of them,” I said.

“So,” Nathaniel said, at last, relinquishing his Hold upon mine Arms. “You will not come. Who is the Lady who holds such Sway over your Prick, and your Heart?”

“I will not give her Name,” I answered.

“Cunning, Tris! Cunning! Ah! How I miss your Madness—and your exceptional Wit! But—” he sighed, and stepping backwards from the Gate, regarded me with a Look of affectionate Sadness. “Do not forget,” he said, “if ever you have need of me, send Word, and I will put a Girdle round the Globe in forty Minutes.”

Exclaiming thus, Nathaniel spun about upon his Heel, and, whistling as merrily as a Goldfinch in the Spring, he began strolling Devil-may-care along the Road, his silver-hilted Sword glinting upon his Hip, and his Hair so dazzling white in the dawn Sunne it could have been spun out of bleached Silk.

“Nat!” I shouted. “Stay! Oh, please, Nathaniel, stay!”

Hearing my Cry, Nathaniel halted, and turned back to regard me with the same amused, exasperated Pity. “I cannot stay,” he said, addressing me patiently, as if I were an Idiot or a small Child. “And you will not come, so I must go. There are Laws.”

“I don’t care a Fig for your damned Laws!” I shouted.

“They are not mine,” Nathaniel said. “I must away, and you—you must wake up, Tris.”

“Why must you always teaze me? Don’t! I am awake!”

Nathaniel shook his Head. “So much Study, yet you remain as great a Booby as you were when you were six. Wake up, Tristan Hart.”

He turned from me again, for the final Time; and as he did so, the yellow Sunne upon his Face seemed to me as if it had given it the Appearance of a bare, white, antient Skull. My Senses began to fail. My Surroundings slippt away from me, like Water.

I woke to blue Morning. For a Moment, I lay motionless, perplext and confused to have found My Self in Bed, when I had been but Seconds previously in the Grounds. I had not Time to wonder at the Marvell that I had been outside, whither I had not dared set Foot for what seemed to me an Eternity, before the Notion struck me that perchance I had collapsed there, and been brought hither by the Servants, in which case ’twas lucky I had not succumbed to Pneumonia; at which Thought I realised that Katherine had been sleeping in my Chamber, and that if the Servants had brought me within she must have been discovered, and the Game was up. I sate up, casting my Gaze wildly, around me. “Katherine!”

After perhaps a Second, I perceived her, and my panicked Heartbeat slowed in my Chest. She was sitting upon the window Seat, attired once more in my red dressing Gown, and holding in her Hands an open Book. At my Cry, however, she started up, and letting the Book fall to the Floor, she crosst the Bedroom at a Run, arriving at my Bedside with some Violence. “Tristan, you are awake at last!” she cried, throwing her Arms tight about my Neck.

I caught hold of her Biceps, before she could throttle me, and made her to let go. “My Darling,” I said. “Let me breathe! What mean you by ‘At last’? It can be no later than seven o’ the Clock.”

“’Tis nine; but you slept so deep that I was afraid…” her Voice trailed off.

“I was sleeping? Not gone from the Room?”

“Not that I know of, Bloody Bones.”

I rested my Cheek against Katherine’s Hair. The Fragrance of the lavender Water, in which I had washed it, perfumed it yet. I could not credit the Likelihood that I had dreamed my Meeting with Nathaniel—but what else could it have been, if I had never left my Bed?

Memory took me to Erasmus’ Confession upon the previous Evening: he had told Katherine that I had suffered a nervous Collapse. I thought hard about this, and after a while found My Self wondering at her Loyalty; she had never given up on me in spite of everything, and she had crosst the Country to be at my Side. Had she been frightened, then, when I had seemingly failed to wake? Had she secretly dreaded that I might not?

“Mine Illness,” I said eventually, “is most unlike to kill me, excepting that I forget to eat and betimes cannot sleep. I do not believe that I have ever done aught truly dangerous, as have some,
who have imagined themselves able to walk on Water or to fly thro’ th’Aire. Sometimes I am uncertain in my Senses, and perceive one thing as if it were another; but the Misperception is temporary. When my Senses return, I can see very clearly what is real, and what is nothing but mere Phantasm.” I lifted up mine Head. The Morning was clean and sharp against mine Eyes.

Perhaps an half-Houre later—I cannot be certain, for perhaps due to the odd Nature of mine Awakening, Time that Morning seemed to me as formless as a Bone in Vinegar—Katherine, who had returned to her Seat in the Window, ventured: “Tristan, I would love to walk in Shirelands’ Grounds. Do you know that I have never properly seen them? When I arrived on Saturdaye it was already dark, and when I came to Dinner the Carriage travelled at such Speed, and Sophy was so provoking, I was able to see almost nothing.”

I startled at this Request. “But you cannot leave the Room,” I exclaimed.

“I can’t stay hidden for ever, ’tis impossible; and anyway, I would hate it in the End.”

“You know well I have no Wish to share you, yet,” I said. “And my Family will try to send you away.”

“But you will not let them, will you, Bloody Bones?”

“I cannot walk outside,” I confesst, all on a Sudden overcome by a Panick. My Words tumbled one upon the other.

“Why?” Katherine asked. “Do you fear the Goblins?”

“Worse,” I said. “The Goblins are in Pay of the Land, and the Land is what I fear. It knoweth me for a Monster, and hates me accordingly.”

“Tristan,” Katherine said, circling her Arms about my Chest and looking me direct in mine Eye. “You are no Monster, my dear Sir.”

“Not to you, perhaps.”

“Well,” she said, straightening up. “If you can’t go out, then so be it. But I know that the Valley hath no Enmity ’gainst me, and so why might not I walk abroad as I wish?”

“I fear you may be taken in my Stead.”

Katherine did not drop her Gaze. “It is my Understanding,” she said at last, with surprizing Authority, “that in such Matters no one can be punished for another’s Misdeed unless all Parties have agreed it.”

“What? How dost know this?” I exclaimed, astonished.

“Somebody once told me. They—you know who I mean when I say
they
—they have Laws. Not Laws of our Kind, that can be broken at will; their Laws are like those by which the Sunne always rises and sets, and doth not turn around halfway; or how falling Objects fall always downwards.”

“You speak of Natural Laws,” I said, thinking of Newton.

“Yes; Laws that cannot break. And this is such a Law, just such.”

“By that Argument,” I said, my Rationality becoming engaged by the Debate, despite mine extream Surprize, “you are safe; never would I let Harm come to you, even to save my Life.”

The Goblins are gone, I remembered, my Victory coming back to me in a Flash. Gone from Shirelands; whether in Dream or in Body, I have slain them; they mayn’t rise again; and as for Raw Head—well, whoever he is, he is not here. And I thought: If Katherine and I are to marry, then I cannot continue to behave as if I were a mad Man. Erasmus Glass hath made that plain enough.

“If you wish to walk in the Gardens todaye, we shall,” I forced My Self to say. “I have not dragged you to my grisly Den, that you be never seen again.”

Immediately had I these Words spoken, I knew in my Gut that
I was free. Whatever Enemy brooded against me without Shirelands’ Gates, it could no longer enter unless I agreed it do so. I was free to walk in mine own family Home, to open up my Windows and breathe in the outside Aire; to step out thro’ the great front Door, to tread the Lawns and pass between the high Hedges without Danger, without Fear. I crosst to my Window and on a Whim flung up the Sash. The morning Light danced green and gold upon the Valley of the Horse. Across the Land whispered a soft autumnal Wind, and it carried to me on its Breath the mewing Screech of a far-off Buzzard, high above the many-flowered Chalk. Even if it were unfriendly, I thought, still, ’twas beautifull. Great Joy and great Sorrow, equal in Measure, melted together in my Breast. In my Months-long Terrour of Raw Head, I had forgotten what a Wonder my Valley was, and how deeply I had loved to wander it, with Nathaniel; and the Reminder was like to the Pressure of a Lover’s Fingers on a Bruise.

I had sorely missed mine Home, for all that I had thought My Self returned to it.

*   *   *

Turning from the Window, I touched with the Toe of my Shoe that Book which Katherine had previously let fall on the bedroom Floor. I picked it up. To my Surprize, however, I saw that it was not mine at all, but had come from my Father’s Library. I dimly recalled that I had carried it hither. But when, and wherefore? I knew the Title; I possesst mine own Copy, locked behind the glass Door of my study Bookcase. It was the Poetry of Donne.

“It falls open by itself, at
The Extasie
,” Katherine said. “I like it very much—but it is hard to understand it.”

I turned the Volume over in mine Hands.

On a swift Sudden I seemed to hear my Mother’s Voice. Its Accent was warm and brown as Cinnamon, playful and joyous as a summer Breeze above the High Chalk. I closed mine Eyes. The Poem, in mine Head, continued on. Mine Infant Face lay buried in her blue, silk-rustling Breast.

I opened mine Eyes. For a Moment, I felt as if I had intruded upon an Intimacy. My Mother had known this Poem; she had loved it; she had read it aloud by Sunneshine and by guttering Candlelight to my Father, as he sate listening silently, unable to meet her Eye; yet unable still to unthread his own Eyes from her.

Only many Yeares of close Attention could have caused the Pages to fall thus apart. How many hundred Times since her Death had my Father opened up this Book, that he might hear again her Voice? Had she the merest Comprehension of how compleat a Change would invade when she had gone?

My Mother could have lived. Why had she chosen otherwise?

I snapped shut the Book and put it high upon my Mantelpiece.

*   *   *

Having dresst, I went down-Stairs to find Erasmus, with the Intention of explaining to him that as Miss Montague was now to be taken for a Walk about the Gardens, it was imperative that he compleat the Task I had yesterdaye allotted him; viz, the Acquisition of a Sett of Garments appropriate to her Sexe and Station. I found him seated at Breakfast.

He looked up at mine Approach, and smiled. “’Tis good to see you, Tristan. Do you join me?”

“No; I will break my Fast in my Chamber, as usual.” I paused, then feeling my Refusal to have been somewhat churlish, I said: “Thank you, Erasmus.”

“I was most impresst last Night by your Ideas upon your Father,” Erasmus said, before I could say another Word. “If you have any
Suggestions to try with regard to his Care, as you implied you might, I should be interested to hear them.”