Read The Necessary Beggar Online
Authors: Susan Palwick
The Necessary Beggar (21 page)
It is all he can do not to cry out, for that would attract attention from the other people on the street. He stops, digs in his pockets for all the money he has, approaches her. She has seen him. Their eyes lock. They are both trembling, as they were that first time in Stini's apartment. But then, as he draws closer, she begins to frown.
Why is she frowning? He cannot ask. He puts the money in her bowl with shaking hands, says hoarsely, “I give to you because life has given to me.” And under his breath, so quietly that his lips barely move, he adds,
Beloved
.
Beloved
.
“I take from you with thanks, as I take from the cosmos,” Gallicina says clearly, with a graceful bow, and he feels her finger tracing a kiss on the underside of his wrist. His heart bounds. But then she murmurs, “Meet me tonight, in the alley by the square where you gave me the prayer carpet. Ten o' clock.”
And she is frowning again, and someone else is approaching her to put a pomegranate and some coins in her bowl, and he cannot ask her anything. He nods, bows, retreats, walks home in a daze. He tells the family he is sick and cannot eat; he hides in his room, and spends the time until ten rocking on his bed, praying that Gallicina has not wearied of him. If she no longer loves him, why the kiss? But if she does still love him, why the frown? He cannot make it out; his brain is all awhirl.
Her father has relented, at least, and let her be a Mendicant. That is a great gift. Darroti tells himself that even if she no longer loves him, he has done her good, has helped her reach her goal. And yet the prospect of a life without her fells him utterly. That cannot be the meaning of the frown. He could not bear it.
He meets her at ten, as he promised; she is just inside the alley, alone, her face anxious, and he calls outâ“Gallicina!”âfor no one else is near, and she turns and they are embracing, kissing, their hands moving over one another's robes, and all is as it should be, all is well, she loves him; she will always love him, just as she promised, and nothing can ever hurt him again. The cosmos has given him its greatest gift.
But then she gently pushes him away, and holds his face between her hands, as she has done before, and says very softly, “Darroti. Love. I am happier than I can say to see you. But Darrotiâyou were drunk this afternoon. And you have been drunk before this. Your face is puffy. You
look ill. In just three monthsâdearest love, the change is shocking. I hardly knew you.”
look ill. In just three monthsâdearest love, the change is shocking. I hardly knew you.”
He shakes his head wildly. How can she speak to him like this, now of all times? “I have not seen you for three months! I have been beside myself! I will be better now. Gallicinaâtell me you love me, tell me you still want to marry me, Gallicinaâ”
“I love you, Darroti. I just told you I did. I will love you forever; I have told you that, too. But now I will tell you again what I have told you once before. If I am to marry a merchant's son, he cannot also be a drunk.”
“It was because I could not see you! It wasâ”
“It was because of me? And before that, it was because I would not speak to my father about becoming a Mendicant. But I have done that, successfully, and still you were drunk this afternoon. Will I always be the reason, Darroti?”
“Gallicina, I am sober now.” And indeed he is clear-headed, for he has had no wine since five, when he sneaked a flask behind the booth, and the shaking has not yet overtaken him to tell him it is time for more. He moves to kiss her again, and she lets him, for a whileâhe can taste her hunger as clearly as he tastes his ownâbut then she pushes him away once more.
“Yes, you are sober now. But that is a matter of hours, and hours are not enough. Darroti, I have been through sore trials these past three months. I know that you have, too. But I must set you another one.”
“Name it,” he says, desperate for another kiss, frantic to keep her. “Anything. Name anything, and I will do it, Gallicina!”
“Do not drink at all for thirty days. And do not seek me out. If you can stay away from wine that long, then meet me one month from now in this same alley, at this same hour. But if you cannot, do not come.”
“Another month?” He is stunned. How can she ask this of him? “Another month, after the three that have just passed? Gallicinaâ”
“You said you would do anything.” Her voice is bitter.
“And so I shall.” He strokes her hair and kisses her again; she lets him. “I shall, I promise you.”
“Good. If you cannotâDarroti, if your love of wine is stronger than your love for me, then stay away. Let me go; do not torment me. And Darroti, dear Darrotiâdo not think to drink during the month, and then come and tell me you have not. I will know if you are lying.”
He pulls away, stung. “You will set spies on me? You do not trust me?”
She pulls him back. “I will not have to set spies. I will know. I have always known. Are you not the other half of my soul?”
Their kiss then is the deepest they have ever had, the longest and most passionate. Darroti wishes it to last a lifetime. But it ends, and Gallicina gently pushes him away. “Tell me I will see you in a month, Darroti.”
“I promise it,” he says. “I swear it by the Elements.”
She smiles at him at last. “Good, beloved. Go.”
He goes. He goes home and tells his family that he is going on a trip, a jaunt of a week or so, to the ocean with some friends. He tells them it is a last-minute expedition on which he has just been invited; he packs his things, whistling, and asks his father if he can borrow some money. Because he so seldom asks such a thing, Timbor gives him three hundred alaris, and his blessing; Darroti promises to bring home presents for the children.
He goes whistling out the door, carrying his luggage. He is no longer whistling when he reaches the whorehouse; he is already afraid, for already the galloping demons are after him, making him shake. Stini is with a customer, and he must wait to see her, but when she emerges, when he explains to her what he needs, she understands at once.
“Aye, Darroti. This is a good thing you are doing, a fine and brave thing. Everyone who loves you will thank you.”
“Then you will lock me in your apartment for a week, with food and water, but no drink?”
“And I will not give you wine no matter how much you beg. Darroti, have you ever grown dangerous with drink?”
“No.” The question startles him. “At least, not that I recall. No one has ever said so; surely they would have told me. And Stini, I will not be drinking.”
“That is what will be dangerous. You may destroy things, fighting your demons. If you break anything in my place, you must pay for it.”
“I understand.”
She puts a hand on his arm. “And you may die, Darroti. People die, sometimes, coming off drink. Even if you do not die, the beginning will be terrible. You understand that?”
He closes his eyes. Fear grips him. “Yes. I understand. But if I cannot stopâif she leaves meâoh, Stini, I will die then, too!”
“Brave Darroti. Come now. Come with me. For you are already beginning to shake, yes?”
He goes with her, allows himself to be locked into the apartment where he spent so many hours with Gallicina, which Stini now strips of anything fragile or capable of cutting. It is as she has said; the beginning is terrible. For three days he rages, screaming. All the monsters come out of the shadows, and with them spiders and centipedes, every insect that has frightened him
since he was small, and mocking images of Gallicina with other men. He would do anything for wine: he would kill his family, kill Gallicina, kill Stini, who stays outside the door and does not heed his threats and wheedling. For three days he endures a wilderness of rage and horror; he convulses, the shaking uncontrollable, and emerges from unconsciousness certain that he is about to die; he becomes so ill that he cannot keep down food or water.
since he was small, and mocking images of Gallicina with other men. He would do anything for wine: he would kill his family, kill Gallicina, kill Stini, who stays outside the door and does not heed his threats and wheedling. For three days he endures a wilderness of rage and horror; he convulses, the shaking uncontrollable, and emerges from unconsciousness certain that he is about to die; he becomes so ill that he cannot keep down food or water.
But somehow he survives. He is young and strong, for all his dissipation, and he clings to his love, to his hope for marriage, to his yearning to be good enough for his bride. And so one day he wakes clear-headed, and the demons are gone. He can see things for what they are again. He has no thirst for wine, but only for the cool clear water that Stini gives him as she praises him. And although he is terribly weak, he is jubilant. For the monsters are gone for good. He can feel it. And in only three more weeks, he can be with Gallicina again, can kiss her; and although the rest of her year as a Mendicant, the time before they can marry, will be torment, it will be nothing compared to what he has just undergone.
So he gets up and pays Stini the remainder of her fee; he paid her only half at first. With the little cash left to him, he buys sweets and seashells from the market, careful to let no one he knows see him. He goes home and gives the gifts to the children, and tells his family he was taken ill on holiday, and allows kind Harani to nurse him. They can sense the change in him. They are wary and puzzled, but pleased.
He goes to sleep every night dreaming of his wedding, and grows every day more joyous. He drives better bargains in the Market than he ever has before. And by the time the month is up, he has conceived a merry plan. He will go to meet Gallicina in the alley, but he will disguise himself, will ask her to be his Necessary Beggar; and then, when she asks what wedding it is, he will say, “Your own!” and sweep her into his arms. And then his entire life will be bliss, and nothing will be able to hurt him, ever again.
And so on the night he is to meet Gallicina, he wears a new robe, one she will not recognize, and brings with him a fine loaf of bread to give her, and hurries to the alley, just at ten. She is sitting thereâdear heart!âsitting on the ground, carving a pineapple with a knife someone has given her. Is she weeping? Why does she look so sad? Dear Gallicina!
“I seek a Necessary Beggar,” he whispers to her, laughing, having crept silently into the alleyâshe did not even look up, why was she not looking for him?âand suddenly she drops the knife and flies at him, weeping and screaming, hammering at him with her fists.
“Darroti, Darroti, you are marrying your whore, I know you are, I saw you with her in the streets the very night we spoke a month ago, Darroti! You were always with her, the entire time you were with me, weren't you?”
“No, Gallicina! I can explainâ”
“Tell the truth, Darroti! How can you ask this of me, Darroti, how can you come here, you never loved meâ”
“No! Gallicina, I love you, I always have, I was notâshe was taking me to a place where I could give up drink, so I could keep my promise to you!”
She rages at him, her face streaked with tears and spittle. “Yes, you are sober, I see that. I smell it! You have made yourself sober for her, not for me! Haven't you, Darroti? You never cared for me. You used my bodyâ”
“Gallicina, no! Gallicina, how can you believe this of me?” But even as he asks, he knows the answer: she saw him with Stini a month ago, and she has had a month to weave a tale explaining what she saw. She has brooded on it; it is fixed in her mind. He finds himself, in a vertiginous rush, imagining what that month must have been like for her. Mendicants have ample time to think: that is their task. Every moment must have been a torment for her, as it would have been for him if he had thought she loved another. “Gallicina, dearestâ”
“You mock me with your cruel request, Darroti! I could not stand to officiate at your marriage toâ”
“To you,” he says, desperate, pushing away images of her huddled against walls, clutching her begging bowl as nightmares of Stini overcame her. “Oh, Gallicina! To you. I only wish to marry you.”
But she is talking at the same time, talking over him, not listening. “You made love to your whore in the same spot where we made love, Darroti, didn't you? In that same apartment! You laughed and gloated togetherâ”
“No! Gallicina, listen to me!” He tries to embrace her, but she bends and snatches up the knife, and he backs away, afraid that she will threaten him. Does no one hear their argument? Why does no one come?
“I hope you will be very happy with her,” she says, and reaches up with one quick movement, and cuts her own throat with the pineapple knife.
“Gallicina!” Darroti cries. He catches her in his arms, forced to watch as her life blood leaves her, gushing; he is too stunned at first even to be horrified. He knows better than to try to seek a healer. He has seen people with such wounds in the Market, after brawls. People with such wounds do not survive.
And so, bewildered and bereft of hope, he spends the last moments of Gallicina's life trying to make her understand, as her blood runs bright and hot over his hands onto the cold, dark stone of the alley. He tells her how he paid Stini to lock him in, that he might battle with the demons. He curses the stupid joke that has gone so fatally wrong. “It was our own wedding I spoke of, Gallicina, I swear to you. It was my wedding with you, dearest love, I will never love another, Gallicina, my own heartâ”
He cannot tell if she hears a thing he says. He thinks that perhaps, just as she is dying, she begins to trace a kiss upon his arm, but her hand falls limp before she can complete it, and perhaps it was only his own wild fancy. All night he holds her body. He rocks and weeps; he thinks of cutting his own throat with the pineapple knife, but fear of meeting her furious spirit stops him. For he has killed her, as surely as if he made the wound himself. He knows that. He has killed her with his drinking and even with his struggle not to drink; he has killed her by not telling her the truth quickly enough; he has killed her with his stupid, stupid jest.
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