The freedom artist, p.16
The Freedom Artist, page 16
‘“Because you all deny so much.”
‘“What do we deny, honey?” I asked.
‘“The wickedness and the suffering,” she said, as if she were reciting a nursery rhyme.
‘Then one day, when she was ten, she said:
‘“I’ll be taken away one afternoon, and then your troubles will begin.”
‘Not long after that she disappeared. We were distraught. This strange child was the love of our lives. She was gone for forty days. And then one lovely spring morning, with the flowers opening, there she was, playing in the middle of the garden, as if she’d never been away. She wouldn’t tell us where she’d been or what had happened to her. When she came back she wasn’t our lovely little daughter any more. She grew silent. She stopped saying strange things. She began to do things that alarmed us and could have got us into trouble. She began bringing books into the house.’
‘Books?’ Karnak cried.
‘Yes, books. No one in the house had seen books for generations. We didn’t even know what they were. We’d only heard that they were poisonous and that they ruined the mind, and that no one was to have anything to do with them. We saw her with these strange objects and we asked what they were and she said:
‘“Books.”
‘“What are they?” we asked.
‘And she said:
‘“They keep things.”
‘“What’s wrong with a good old suitcase?” I said.
‘“They reveal things.”
‘“Like what?”
‘“Like what you are.”
‘“How do they do that?” I asked.
‘“They’re like a mirror,” she said. “You look into them and you see yourself.”
‘“Let me see that,” I said, and took the object from her. It opened and I stared at it and I saw these funny things in it. They seemed to be moving, but they were still. Then as I looked I saw something that frightened me. I’m not sure what it was, but it gave my heart a jump. I could have sworn I caught a glimpse of the Devil. I dropped it and it screamed when it hit the ground as if it were a living thing. I ran away in horror.’
She stopped speaking for a moment and wiped her face. Karnak wasn’t sure if they were tears.
‘After that we kept our eyes on her. She spent hours huddled over those things. She’d be silent. How can anyone sit in silence staring at a piece of wood for so long? Sometimes she’d laugh. Then she would shut the object and stare straight ahead. Then a few days later she would say something. She’d say things that didn’t make sense.
‘“Find the original myth,” she would say. She’d say it under her breath. She’d say it not to herself, but to us, as if she wanted us to hear. After that, she began disappearing. Sometimes for a week. When she returned she always looked more beautiful and more strange. Sometimes I’d see her in the garden, just sitting and listening. What was she listening to? I could never hear.
‘“What are you listening to?” I’d ask.
‘She’d be still as if she were dead. Quiet as a butterfly she’d say:
‘“I’m listening to the stories in the air,” or “I’m listening to what’s going to happen,” or “I’m listening to the ants in the grass.”
‘Now what kind of person talks like that? She frightened me. One day she said:
‘“Can you hear it?”
‘“Can I hear what?” I said back.
‘“The music of the stars,” she said, pointing a finger skyward.
‘I didn’t know what to do, whether to fall at her feet and worship her, or call the authorities and have her taken away for treatment. She always said those strange things with a smile that grew sweeter as she grew older. That’s another thing about her. She grew older but she never seemed to change. She was like some weird flower, always as fresh as dawn. But her eyes worried me. They were innocent and kind but she looked at people with such pity, as if an axe hung over their heads that only she could see. It used to drive me mad the way she looked at people, the way she looked at me. One day I told her about it and this hurt expression appeared on her face that made me cry. I don’t know why I did that. But she put her arms around me and whispered something into my ear. But I didn’t hear what she said till much later, when she’d gone out for a walk. Do you know what she said?’
8
The way she asked the question startled Karnak out of his mesmerism. He was stunned to be addressed so directly.
He shook his head.
The mother studied him as if he had just woken from an inappropriate doze.
‘Why should I tell you? You’re not even listening.’
‘I am listening, with all my being,’ Karnak said awkwardly.
The mother made a ferocious but tender gesture with her hand, then she continued:
‘She said: “I’m in your heart like a butterfly.” Now what does that mean? I thought about it all day. Then I realised I must have got it wrong and she’d said:
‘“You’re in my heart like a butterfly.”
‘This moved me, but I don’t know why. She went away then and only came back three days later. She said she was working now. She had a job, at last.
‘“What work are you doing?” we asked.
‘“Good work. The best work,” she said.
‘“Are you being paid?” we asked.
‘“Paid for ever and ever,” she said.
‘What does that mean? Her disappearances increased. We got worried. We searched her room one day and found notes that we couldn’t read. We found those strange objects called books. We found a drawing. It was a drawing of us looking through her things. She had known we would do it. She even knew the day we would do it. We left her room in a hurry, as if we were chased by dogs.’
The mother opened a window, stuck her head out, and shouted something at the men clustered round the lorry. After a minute they got into the lorry and drove away. She shut the window. She appeared distracted for a moment, then she went on:
‘She seemed to have lots of friends. But we never saw them. She seemed to travel a lot, all over the world. But we didn’t know how she did it. She seemed to know things that were going on that no one heard about, things that were not even on the radio. Things not in the papers. Sometimes up in her room we’d hear several voices. They’d be voices we’d never heard before. But when we went up, there was only her in the room. Even the window would be shut.’
The mother paused long enough to send a shiver of a look at Karnak.
‘Then to our great surprise you turn up at the house one day. Her first boyfriend. We never even knew she thought about things like that. You came here, you sat in silence, and she went on getting stranger and stranger, and you never even noticed.’
She snorted mildly.
‘One day the authorities showed up and began to watch the house. At first I didn’t think it was us they were watching. Why would anyone watch us? We’re normal people. Normal decent hard-working people. We thought they were watching the people next door. Then someone came to the house and asked about our daughter.
‘“What’s she done?” we asked.
‘“Nothing,” they said. “Do you know where she goes, what she does?”
‘“No,” we replied.
‘“Do you know whether she is part of any dangerous groups trying to destabilise society?”
‘“No,” we laughed. “Not our daughter.”
‘“Do you know if she is part of any groups trying to overthrow the Hierarchy?”
‘“Overthrow? No,” we said. “Absolutely not. Never, never, never. Not our daughter.”
‘“Do you know if she is in league with any powers from another planet, another galaxy?”
‘“What!” we cried. “Another planet? Are you having us on? No, no, no. Not our daughter. You’ve got it wrong!”
‘“Thank you for your time,” the man said, and then he was gone. He just disappeared. We didn’t even see which way he went.’
She gave a half-smile.
‘The next time I see her, Amalantis has a red rose in her hand. She gives it to me, along with a kiss. That brings tears to my eyes. What has been going on, my tears ask her. She gives me a hug and then does something strange. I wished her father were still there so he could have seen it too. Did I tell you that my husband died around that time? Well, he did. Strange circumstances. Anyway, she did something strange.’
Karnak found his voice for an instant.
‘What?’
She gave him a look as if she had no intention of telling him. Then her eyes grew dim.
‘She wrapped something from the air. She wrapped it in her palm. And when she opened her hand I could have sworn I saw a light. Maybe it was a word. Maybe it was a butterfly. It could have been any of them. Then she put it to my forehead. It burnt me like a white-hot kiss and I went a bit dizzy. Then she said she was going to see you, and she left.’
9
The mother’s eyes brightened. She was gazing into the distance, beyond the walls of the room.
‘When she left, this peculiar feeling expanded in my brain. It travelled all round my body and settled in my heart. In the middle of the night I woke up screaming, as if my heart was on fire. But it was not a bad fire. It was just that I wasn’t used to it. Then it cooled and spread throughout my body. In the morning when I woke up I was different. I suddenly understood. But I don’t know what I understood. Not long afterwards I learnt she had been taken away and that I might never see her again. How did I find it out? I don’t know. It was as if someone told me, or as if they announced it on the radio. Then one afternoon as I sat in her favourite chair in the garden, trying to hear the ants in the grass, the doorbell sounded. There was a little boy at the door. He told me very sweetly that he had been sent to tell me that they’d taken my daughter away, but not to worry. Then he was gone, as if I had dreamt him. Ever since, it’s been awful. I sit here at night listening to all the wailing I had never heard before.’
10
She paused and looked at Karnak as though there was another side of the story that she hadn’t told him yet.
‘Why has it taken you so long to come and see me? Especially when the suffering has been so great?’
He was about to reply, but she raised a palm of silence.
‘Don’t say anything. She told me many things about you which I didn’t understand at the time.’
Karnak looked surprised.
‘She knew you better than you know yourself. I’m ashamed to say this, but she loved you as much as a mother loves her only child.’
‘She did?’
It came out of him like a sob.
‘She said you appear to be one thing to the world, but deep down you are another. She said you seem gentle and silent and timid, but that in truth you are a chariot-rider, a prince. She said you’re a hero who would go deep into the underworld, if necessary, to find her and change the water of the earth.’
The mother pulled a face.
‘I know. She said such grandiose things. But she was often right. She said you would be lost for a long time and people would think you had gone mad, but that you would be the first to start to see how things really are. She said your greatest strength is love and when all the towers are tumbling down and everyone is losing it that your star will still be shining. And now here you are. If you hadn’t come to see me I couldn’t have told you all this now, could I?’
Karnak was moved.
‘No,’ he replied meekly.
Then after a moment’s thought:
‘When did she tell you all these things?’
‘Mostly when I expressed doubts about you. But I only heard them later, in bits and pieces. That’s how she is. She comes back to you, later, long afterwards, when you are thinking of something else.’
‘She has not come back to me yet,’ Karnak said sadly.
‘She will. But you’ve got to let her. That’s what has helped my grief. I let her come back to me in her own way.’
Karnak looked at the mother with a new understanding.
‘There is more you want to tell me, isn’t there?’ he said.
‘A lot more,’ she said with a sigh and a smile. ‘But not now. There’s only so much the ears can hear.’
11
They sat for a long time in silence in the living room. The picture of Amalantis stared at him all that time, her stare full of kindness, devoid of reproach. Her smile was wistful and loving.
He sat there in the gathering darkness. She let the dark close around them. Then the clock struck a strange hour, and Karnak leapt up as if bitten.
‘I’ve taken up too much of your time. I must be going. Thank you for…’
‘Don’t thank me for anything. I know what you’re going through. I see what’s happening. My daughter’s disappearance taught me to see.’
She stood up.
‘Be careful now,’ she said.
Then she left him standing there in the middle of the room and disappeared into the darkness of the house.
Karnak waited. He heard nothing. He waited some more. Then he realised that in her own way she had already said goodbye.
☆
One day Amalantis came back with all these seeds. She was quietly excited. She held them in the palm of her hand as if they were magic seeds.
‘What are they?’
‘Seeds.’
‘I know they’re seeds. What are you going to do with them?’
‘Plant them.’
‘No one plants things. No one is allowed to plant things. Do you have permission?’
‘I’m going to plant them and watch them grow.’
‘What if they find out?’
‘They won’t find out.’
‘Where will you plant them?’
‘In my room.’
A few weeks later she took him to a cupboard and opened it. He saw these bright roses growing from a pot. He had never seen anything grow before. They were both beautiful and scary. He wanted to run from them, but he was also drawn by their strange unfamiliar beauty.
‘Smell them.’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Seeing them is bad enough.’
‘Is it so bad to see them?’
‘I didn’t mean that.’
‘I know.’
‘I’ll smell them another time. Let me get used to just seeing them.’
Book 5
1
On a beautiful day in the middle of the year a rumour rose from the underworld. It began a feverish journey from mouth to ear across the land. At first the rumour seemed improbable. But its improbability lent it fascination. Its unlikeliness accelerated the speed of its progress.
Soon fragments of the rumour reached the sleeping world. Some claimed they dreamt it. Some said they had heard it on the radio. Some said a drunk had whispered it to them. The fragments grew. Each fragment was a full-fledged story.
Then the fragments warred with one another. A fragment of rumour said that a flash of lightning had one night struck the great tower of the Hierarchy. The luminous crown on its summit, which shone a dark light on the world, had come tumbling down. Another fragment claimed that the tower had burst into flames in five places. Another fragment maintained that members of the Hierarchy were seen falling upside down from the tower. There were no official reports of any such things. No deaths of Hierarchy members were ever broadcast.
In a separate fragment of the same rumour, a boy was seen walking in the air. He walked from the summit of the highest hill in the city. He was dressed like a fool. He had his head thrown back in a carefree way. There was a mysterious knapsack with an open eye on a stick over his shoulder. He walked over the precipice and walked in the air and the dogs on the ground below barked excitedly at this new arrival to the city. The rumour of this arrival was so persistent and widespread that the authorities, alarmed by intimations of a miracle, closed off the hill where the boy was supposed to have walked in the air.
In yet another fragment of the rumour a boy driving a chariot was seen careering down the high street. The chariot was pulled by two sphinxes, one black, the other white. People had seen it and not believed what they saw. They forgot about it till later that day when rumours circulated the city. Some said the boy had a pentagram on his forehead. Some said there were stars on the canopy of the chariot. Others claimed that the boy who rode the chariot was a king and he controlled the two sphinxes with invisible reins.
Some spoke with awe of the sublime determined look on the handsome face of the boy-king. Not long afterwards the police swarmed the high street and scattered the crowds.
It was a time when rumours and fragments of rumours filled the world. These were not rumours about the end of time. These were rumours of disaster. Fires were said to have broken out in the great tower of the Hierarchy. The fallen crown on its summit had not been replaced. It was said that the Hierarchy didn’t know how to replace it. The architects who could reconstruct it had disappeared and the builders were in the mental asylums. Dense smoke hung over the tower. No one could locate the source of the fires.
These were rumours but people were not inclined to believe them. To the general mind the Hierarchy was all-powerful and all-seeing. The Hierarchy was eternal.
But for the first time in generations, like bats flitting at night, there were doubts in the secret chambers of the general mind.
2
Rumours and fragments of rumours proliferated. There was talk of a woman in a field who opened a lion’s mouth with the lightest touch. She was a slender woman in a dazzling white shift, with roses in her hair. There were roses in a ringlet round the neck of the lion.
The rumours spoke with awe of the way, with a touch, the woman had opened the lion’s mouth. On successive nights people said that in their dreams they had heard the lion roar.
Some said the roar shook the foundations of the tower.
Around that time people said they saw the Devil. Some said they saw him on a dark night. The Devil had the head of a goat, the body of a man, the breasts of a woman, and the claws of an eagle. It had two horizontal horns, the ears of an ass, and the giant wings of a bat. Some said there was an inverted pentagram on its forehead and that it was perched on a split slab of cubic stone.
