Mara and Dann

by Doris Lessing

  ‘There’s something else. Kira came north with Darian. He replaced me in her affections, when I left. Well, he’s been after her a long time. Darian is a deserter. So Shabis would have death squads ready for more than one of his officers.’

  ‘Dann, I’m sure that Shabis wouldn’t … ’

  ‘Oh, you can be so stupid, Mara. An army has rules. If they caught me I’d be for it. And so would Darian. That means, if people knew here they could get a ransom for us…That is why Darian wants to go North. There is going to be trouble between the Four Generals. Now the three are blaming Shabis for the mess in Shari. There is a lot of disaffection in the army. If the Generals could have little General Dann and Major Darian publicly executed, it would buck up discipline no end.’

  He was staring down again. Another of the coaches was being pushed out of it along the lines. ‘Perhaps Kira is down there. She left Darian as soon as they got here. He was just a means of getting away. I hear she has already got another protector. So she has been here in the same town with me, but I didn’t know it. Perhaps I am looking at her now.’

  ‘Oh, you do love her,’ said Mara, but shrank, seeing his face still dark and angry.

  ‘That is how you would have to travel North, Mara. A protector. That’s the way it’s done, and I would push your coach.’ He turned, and took her hands, gently. This was not the other one. ‘I love her, yes. And you shouldn’t mind that, Mara, because my heart was as small as a dried bean, before Kira. Like yours is now.’ Here tears flooded Mara’s eyes, thinking of her cold, aching heart. ‘But when I loved Kira so much, I knew how much I love you. I didn’t know it till then. I began to remember … I know how you looked after me and defended me, Mara. And you sang to me, kept Kulik away from me … Kulik is here, I saw him.’ And then, seeing her face, said, ‘I tell you, I saw him. You never believe me, do you?’ And now, right in front of her was the other one. She felt afraid.

  ‘I was just little Dann. And you were a big girl. We’re equal now, though. I want to stay here in Bilma. I want to buy one of those houses …’ he turned himself around, pulling her with him. The great, white houses stood shining in their gardens. ‘I want to live here in a house like that.’

  ‘Dann, we don’t have the money.’

  He pressed her robe close in to her so that he could feel the cord of coins nestling there.

  ‘Give me your coins, Mara.’

  He was gently shaking her, and then not so gently. ‘Give them to me.’

  ‘No. You could take them by force.’

  His face was puckering and twitching, little convulsive tics near the eyes and mouth. It was as if the face of the other one was fighting to hold off the Dann she knew. His eyes were staring, and sombre, his mouth half open – the dreadful little convulsions of the flesh went on.

  ‘I have ten gold coins. Did you know we could buy a house with that? We could settle down – a little house, not one of those … But I know how to get more money, I know I can. And I want yours … ’

  His face was convulsed, briefly, and then it was over. ‘Right, I can manage without you, Mara. That’s it. Now I know where we stand.’

  ‘There’s just one thing,’ she attempted feebly. ‘If you’re afraid people here would take you back to Charad to be executed, then you shouldn’t stay here.’

  ‘I told you, I’m not little Dann any more. I can look after myself.’ And he was off, running, back into the town. He called back, ‘Perhaps I shall cut myself open again. That would be another six.’

  ‘Don’t Dann, don’t,’ she called after him, and heard his derisive call back, ‘Don’t Dann, don’t.’

  She went back to the inn, and asked for food in her room. She could not bear the pressure of hostile inspection, even if she was imagining it. The proprietor only nodded, but his eyes were concerned. Yes, he was one of the ones who liked them – or at least her. She knew Dann would not be in the room, and did not expect him back. He had taken all his things. And he had taken his share of the money Dalide had changed. She lay through the hot hours looking out of the window where the sky blazed hot, and then paled, and then flared into sunset. She did not sleep. She knew something bad was brewing. When there was a knock at the door and the proprietor called to her, she knew what she would hear. ‘You must go to the Transit Eating House,’ he said. ‘Your brother is there.’ And then, ‘I’ll send a boy with you.’

  She looked around the room, thinking, What should I take? Suppose I don’t come back here? But why should I think that … it’s silly. All the same … And she filled her faithful sack with everything she owned.

  The proprietor saw the sack, and said, ‘Pay me what you owe.’

  ‘I’m not leaving,’ she said.

  ‘Pay me.’

  She paid, and he called for the boy to go with her. She was pleased to have him there, though he was an urchin of ten or so and could not defend her, and she knew his function was to report back to the proprietor what he had seen.

  The big room of the Transit was jammed with people, and the noise was like a shout in her ears. She walked through to the gambling room, and there was Dann. He was flushed and wild and laughing. The room was crammed except for the area immediately around the table. Beside the man who handled the dice and the chips, stood the owner of the Transit, a usually genial host, but now he was pale and agitated – as well he might be, for in front of Dann were stacked coins in every possible denomination. A fortune. Dann called to her over the piles of money, ‘And now who is stupid, Mara? Look at what I’ve won.’

  ‘Now stop,’ she shouted. ‘Stop while you’ve got it.’ For she could see he meant to go on.

  Dann did hesitate. For a few moments time slowed. Dann stood, his face stretched in a triumphant grin. The onlookers’ faces were full of warnings and dismay. The big lamp hanging over the table swung gently, making the shadows move. And then Dann put his hands down on his piles of winnings and said to the owner, ‘I’ll go on.’

  ‘Don’t, please don’t,’ said Mara and he echoed her as he did earlier, ‘Don’t Dann, please don’t.’

  He shook the dice, threw, shook, threw, shook – and let out an exultant yell, and began to dance where he stood. A long pause, while the owner, who was looking ill now, wrote the amount on a piece of wood. And then his name.

  Dann held it up, showing it around and then thrust it forwards to Mara.

  Now Mara saw Bergos, standing with his back to a wall among a press of people. Well, he would have to be here. Near him was the newcomer, Darian. Bergos was grinning, full of spiteful pleasure, but Darian was sober and concerned. Mara looked beseechingly at him. He shrugged. But then he did squeeze his way through and laid his hand on Dann’s shoulder. He said something to him in a low voice. While this man whom he regarded as a friend spoke to him, Dann’s face twitched and grimaced because of the conflict in him, but he shook Darian off. He stood with his hands held just above the great heap of wealth in front of him. There was so much there that people’s mouths fell and they stared, looking at it. Dann’s face was now a medley of emotion: he was scared, but intended to be defiant, and he nodded for the dice. He stood with his hand poised over the shaker, and at that last moment he could have stopped, and been safe, but he was driven and, his lips held tight to contain their twitching, he threw … And lost, as he was bound to.

  The owner went swiftly forward and scooped all Dann’s late winnings into a bag. One moment the table was piled, the next empty.

  Dann stood smiling foolishly. It was absolutely silent in that room.

  ‘I haven’t finished,’ he said.

  Mara knew that he meant the six gold pieces under his scar, but at that moment Bergos said softly, ‘You could stake your sister.’

  There was a groan, or a moan, around the room.

  Dann said, ‘I’ll stake Mara. I’ll stake my sister.’ Darian again put his hand on Dann’s shoulder and it was shaken off. ‘Don’t worry, Mara,’ called Dann, but now his grin was foolish and weak, and his hand shook.
‘This is my winning night.’

  Again Darian attempted to stop him, but Bergos had come forward and stood beside Dann. Dann reached for the shaker and the dice – threw, and lost.

  And now Dann howled; he howled like a dog, and pulled his hair with both hands, and moaned, ‘Mara, Mara, Mara.’

  But already Mara felt a hand on either of her arms, and she was being turned around, and then pushed out through the people, and then into the big room, where they had heard of the drama being played out in the gambling room, and were standing to watch her being pushed through, but fell back, away from the touch of this unfortunate one. In the street she was not surprised to see on one side of her the grinning face of Bergos. The other man she did not know.

  She was thinking of Dann as she was hustled through the streets. Dann had gambled away all his money, including the six gold coins. What is he going to do? Is he going to cut out the others? Without anyone to help him?

  It was not far to where they were going. She asked, ‘What is this house?’ And Bergos said, ‘Dalide’s house.’

  She thought, If she wanted me why didn’t she just kidnap me? She said to Bergos, ‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to just capture me?’

  ‘Against the law,’ he said.

  They were in a large, dimly lit hall. Ahead hung a voluminous dark red curtain.

  ‘Not against the law to gamble a woman away,’ she said, and found herself being pulled through the curtain’s large folds; and she was in a large, brightly lit room full of women, and girls, most fancifully dressed and some half naked. They stared at Mara. Their faces, their eyes, were some curious, some resentful. There was the smell of poppy. At this point the man she did not know dropped her arm, and went off to where a big, ugly man lounged near a wall, guarding the women. The two conferred, watching as Bergos pushed her through a door into a sober and dark corridor, where stairs went up. These she ascended, while Bergos held tight to her arm. At the top was another corridor, and Bergos pushed her into a room, and she heard the door lock as he shut it.

  It was a large room, well furnished, with pleasant colours, not like the room where the women were downstairs. There was a wide, low bed in a recess, a round table, and chairs that were carved and cushioned. She had not seen furniture like this, nor ornamental lamps, nor a floor covered with soft rugs, since she was in Shabis’s house. But she felt that the room was closing around her and she ran to the window and pushed back heavy curtains. Outside was the sky, a glitter of stars, and beneath her a shadowy garden; and there was a small fire and around it men crouched. She could hear them talking, in low voices, but she did not know what language they used.

  Her heart was pounding. Perhaps it was her beating heart that was suffocating her. She began a fast, frantic walk up and down, up and down, her hand pressing her heart, trying to silence it; and then a sound alerted her and Dalide stood in the doorway, a fantastic sight: a white flounced dress, with ribbons and bows of scarlet, and then the old, brown wrinkled face with its withered mouth, and small black eyes in webs of wrinkles. This apparition swayed over the carpet on black heels, and sat itself at the table. Dalide signalled Mara to sit. Mara sat. Dalide clapped her hands. The same big, ugly man Mara had seen downstairs came in with a jug and two beakers. He also carried Mara’s sack, which he set down. He did not look at Mara. He went out.

  Dalide said, ‘You forgot your sack in the Transit.’

  Mara said, ‘I’ll kill the first man who touches me.’

  Dalide cackled with laughter, and reached out a claw of a hand, pointed at the snake visible under Mara’s thin sleeve and said, ‘Yes, I’ve seen these toys before. And very useful they can be.’ And then, seeing that Mara’s hand was held protectively over the coil of metal, ‘I’m not going to take away your little snake.’

  She poured yellow, frothy liquid into two beakers, and began at once to sip from hers, so Mara felt safe to drink.

  ‘And I’m not going to poison you.’

  ‘Or drug me?’

  ‘Well, who knows?’ said Dalide.

  ‘What do you want then? What did you do with my brother?’

  ‘Why should I do anything with him?’

  ‘He has gambled away everything. He has nothing.’

  ‘I don’t deal in men, I deal in women.’

  Mara felt that her body, her face, her heart, were quietening. She trusted Dalide, she decided. Or perhaps it was relief because of this silent room, the comfort, the soft colours.

  ‘I shall come to the point,’ said Dalide. ‘I’m going to sell you for a very good price – a very good price indeed – to a man who will know how to value you. But he’s not here at the moment. He’s up in Kanaz. When he comes back he’ll want to have a good look and then I know what he’ll decide.’

  ‘What makes you think I won’t kill him? I’m not going to be anyone’s property.’

  ‘Why don’t you wait and see?’

  ‘Who is this man?’

  ‘He is one of the Council – a leading member.’

  ‘And they run Bilma?’

  ‘And all this country.’

  ‘Why should such an important man be interested in – a runaway slave?’

  ‘You forget, I was a runaway slave myself. The condition makes for cleverness. And I have a hunch – it is my business to know men and the women who will suit them.’

  She got herself up, with difficulty, from her chair. ‘You’ll be sleepy soon. I have shared my sleeping draught with you. In the morning we can talk – if you want. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t like me, but you need me. You may go anywhere in this house and the garden. Don’t try to run away. You will be watched. And if you use that little snake of yours on any of my people, I’ll hand you over to the police. I never break the law, nor do I connive at lawbreaking.’ And she tottered out, the ridiculous white dress swaying over little black shoes like hooves.

  Mara was assaulted by the need to sleep. She pulled off her dress and, as she was about to throw herself on the bed, was arrested by the feeling that someone was watching her. She saw, among a confusion of shadows and deeper shadows, and gleams and rays of light from the lamp, a tall figure standing by a wall, spying on her. She shrieked. The door at once opened and her gaoler was there, the big brutal-looking man.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked in clumsy Charad.

  She pointed at the watcher, who pointed at her. The truth of the situation rushed into her mind, but she was so shocked, she was trembling. The man looked where she was pointing, then disbelievingly at her, shook his head meaning, She’s mad … And went out, laughing.

  Mara, half asleep, managed a few steps to the wall, and watched Mara come towards her. Menacing, silent, an enemy … But she was about to slide to the floor. She reached the bed and collapsed on it.

  She woke late. The room was full of light. Mara had dreamed of a journey where at each turn she was confronted by different Maras: Mara the little child; Mara crouching over a drying waterhole and peering to see her small monkey face in the dust-filmed water; Mara with the Kin – with Juba, with Meryx, her arms around his neck, laughing; Mara in her slave’s dress, running, always running.

  She got out of bed and stood naked in front of the part of the wall that reflected what was in front of it. This was a very different affair from Ida’s wall, where she had seen herself dimly through what seemed to be a net of little cracks, or the window glass in Shari, where she had hardly been able to see herself for leaves and branches. She put out a hand and saw hand touching hand – a cool, hard surface like solidified water. Hard to tell which was the image and which was the one that breathed and could move away. Mara saw a tall, slim woman, with full breasts that half concealed what she hid under them. A peering, staring woman, and behind her the bed and a good part of the room. Moving a little, this magical water-wall included a window sill and sky where clouds sailed by. She could not make what she saw fit with her sense of herself. She thought, All the time people see that, but they don’t see this – mea
ning what she felt as Mara, her sense of herself. And she went close to the water-wall and peered into her eyes, dark eyes in her serious face. They look into my face and then eyes, as I look into faces and eyes, hoping I will see who is there; they hope they will reach me, Mara, Mara inside here. But Mara is not my real name. For years I waited to hear my real name, but now I know it wouldn’t matter. When I hear it at last, I’ll think, Is that my real name, after all? Mara is my name. Yet Mara is not the name of what I feel myself to be, inside here; it is the name of that person looking back at me. They say she is beautiful. She is not beautiful now, she is so nervous and staring. And Mara tried to smile and let herself be beautiful, but she seemed to herself more like a snake about to strike. And she nearly took off the metal coil from her upper arm with its raised snake’s head, ready to strike, for that is how she seemed to herself. And then, as she turned from the water-wall, she caught a glimpse of someone different, smiling, because of her thoughts about herself, the runaway slave.

  Her mouth was dry. She felt a little sick. She found a room next to this one where there were toilet arrangements and she washed, and slowly, because the sleeping drug had made her shaky, brushed her hair and put on the dress that looked as if it had butterflies woven into it. Back she went to the water-wall, to see herself, dressed. Well, that was better. As she stood there, the door opened and in came the man from last night, with a tray. He grinned as he saw her there and made a gesture: You see, you were foolish.

  She saw he did not mean her harm, was merely stupid. She looked carefully at him, so as to know him later, in an ambush, or a fight. He was tall and powerfully built, all muscles and strong flesh. The neck was thick. A large, ugly face. Yellow: he was a yellow man. He went to her sack and started taking out her clothes and she went forward to stop him. He made the motions of washing.

  ‘What’s your name?’ she asked, in Mahondi. He shook his head. ‘What’s your name?’ in Charad.

  ‘Senghor.’

  ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘Kharab. Mother Dalide’s servants are Kharabian. She was a slave there, and now we are her slaves.’ He smiled, offering this as a jest. She could see that this was a general joke in the household, among the servants. He called himself a slave, though. ‘It is good for us that no one knows our language. We can say what we like.’ And he began roaring with laughter and thumping himself on the chest. Then he went out with her dresses over his arm.