by John Barth
“But you yourself don’t realize—”
“Stop him, Anna, or I’ll not say another word!” By now everyone was laughing at Ebenezer’s frustration and Henrietta’s mock anger, even the poet himself.
“Very well,” he said, “I’ll hold my peace. But I must warn you: if your tale goes whither I guess, I’ll steal your thunder with a postscript more marvelous by half.”
“ ’Tis your privilege, and may the cleverest liar win. But will you swear to interrupt me no more, on pain of hearing me read my verses if you do? Good, then let’s return to the family scandal. I said there was a story that Cecile’s mother had been a Jewess, nor any rich one, either, but a common chambermaid or washwoman in a noble Roman house. In the same house there was a Greek who had once tutored the Marchese’s children, but had been reduced to the post of footman because of his depravity; ’tis said he got the young Jewess with child ere he was sent packing, and that subsequently she contrived to make a conquest of the Marchese himself and prevailed upon him to raise her bastard son as his own, there in the palazzo.” Henrietta pointed out that this story shed no light whatever on Monsieur Edouard’s metamorphosis from Roman to Parisian, Catholic to Huguenot, and natural son to nobleman. Nevertheless, she insisted, its odd particularity had the ring of truth. As for the mysterious changes of status, she added mischievously, was not their own Governor Nicholson the Duke of Bolton’s bastard, and had he not enjoyed transmogrifications of faith and place no less astonishing?
“Whate’er his origin,” she went on, “we know for a fact he was neither a hypocrite on the one hand nor a martyr on the other; when the Huguenots continued to be persecuted even after the Edict of Nantes, he refused to become a Papist, but fled from Paris to London and joined Oliver Cromwell’s army. Maman says he fought bravely in divers campaigns, but cannot recollect which ones. In any case he left the Lord Protector’s service in 1655, as abruptly as he had joined it, and came to Maryland.” She sighed. “Now here’s a weak spot in my Edouardiad, that Eben will surely pounce upon: the voyage of your proper hero like Ulysses or Aeneas is always fraught with trials, but Cecile—albeit he did sail east to west, as a hero ought—crossed without incident. He must have got a fortune somewhere in his past, for he cargoed three ships with naught but furniture, carpetings, ironwork, plate, flatware, gewgaws, and oddments for the house he meant to raise in the Plantations. What’s more, he brought his wife Sophie along and the rest of his ménage as well: fifteen servants and Maman, his only child, who was seven or eight years old. The Province was only twenty-odd years old itself at the time, and had surely never beheld such a Croesus as my grandfather. In 1659 the Lord Proprietary patented him six hundred acres on the Choptank, and he moved across the Bay with his company and baggage to build a house.”
Ebenezer shook his head in wonderment, but not at Henrietta’s narrative. “Nay, Eben, you must wait as you promised,” she said. “What you’ve heard is merely the preface, and now the tale proper commences.”
There was among Monsieur’s servants, she declared, an old fellow known only as Alfred, who had been his master’s valet as long as anyone could remember. This Alfred was said to know Cecile more intimately than did Madame Edouard herself, and his master loathed him. Cecile was not such a fool as to be unaware of his own character, but his position enabled him to punish others for his shortcomings; yet he dared not cashier the valet and have done with it, not only because Alfred knew so much about him, but also because the servant, despite his menial status, seemed to have been endowed with uncommon acumen and foresight. Thus Monsieur never failed to heed his valet’s counsel, for he was, like many another man, wise enough to recognize good sense when exposed to it, if not wise enough to conjure it for himself; but poor Alfred was ill rewarded for his services, inasmuch as each time his advice was taken, his master’s resentment towards him increased.
“Now Cecile fell to the task of raising his house with wonderful haste and gusto. He brought with him to Edouardine a shallop’s-load of carpenters, cabinet-makers, masons, and even glaziers, though his window glass and mirrors were still en route from London. In six months, whilst the family and workmen lived in cabins, an imposing wooden edifice was raised, with a large central section and two wings. Ordinarily such an army could have built the house more quickly, but it happened that Monsieur Edouard was possessed of a marvelous fear of salvages; time and again he halted the progress of his house and set his men to building a stockade fence about the grounds, or clearing away more trees on his point of land, or constructing earthworks against Indian attacks. Just how numerous and belligerent were the salvages thereabouts no one knew at the time, but certainly Alfred could have pointed out to Monsieur in a moment that such defenses were of the wrong sort. Howbeit, as I said before, he was the perfect servant; he ne’er durst proffer advice unless asked for’t, and Cecile was too engrossed in building his palisades, terrepleins, and demilunes, ever to question their utility. In sooth, Indians were observed in the neighborhood from time to time, and albeit their motives may have been naught more sinister than curiosity, still their presence sufficed to send Cecile into a fresh fit of crenelations, embrasures, and machicoulis.
“When at length the house was finished, save for the window glass, he loaded Sophie, Alfred, and himself into a small boat and bade another servant row them some hundred yards offshore, the better to view Edouardine from its noblest elevation.
“ ‘Well, Sophie,’ Monsieur demanded (I mean to invent these colloquies for the sake of interest, if the Laureate hath no objection)—‘Well, now, Sophie,’ he demanded, ‘what do you say of Edouardine?’ And Madame Edouard replied, ‘ ’Tis lovely, mon cher.’
“ ‘Lovely, you say!’ (Can’t you see him turning red like Papa, and poor Sophie lowering her eyes?) ‘Lovely, you say! C’est magnifique! Sans pareil! And my palissade! Why, we are invulnerable!’ And then he demanded to know whether Alfred too regarded Edouardine as merely beau.
“ ‘The house is superb, Monsieur,’ I can hear Alfred saying—very calmly, you know. ‘It is truly elegant.’
“ ‘Eh? You think so? That’s more to the mark!’ ”
Ebenezer, Anna, and Mary Mungummory applauded Henrietta’s lively mimicking of the Count and his timid valet.
“ ‘But if Monsieur will observe—’
“ ‘What’s that? Observe what?’
“ ‘I think of the salvage Indians, Monsieur…’
“ ‘Ah, you think of them? Did you hear that, Sophie? He thinks of les sauvages, doth this Alfred! And do you suppose I think of aught besides, idiot? Small chance they have of broaching my palisade!’
“ ‘None whate’er, Monsieur; but I fear they would not need to broach it.’
“ ‘And how is that, pray? Do you fancy they have artillery?’
“Whereupon Alfred must have cleared his throat and said politely, ‘I have heard, Monsieur, that these salvages make use of flaming arrows in siege. Despite your clearing the trees, they could very well (if they’d a mind to) stand off yonder in the forest and throw such arrows over the palisade onto the house—which then must surely take fire, inasmuch as ’tis made of wood. Monsieur would be obliged to use many men to put out the fire, and thus leave the palisade weakly manned: the salvages would be upon us in short order. Always assuming, of course, that they are hostile.’
“ ‘Ridiculous!’ I daresay Cecile came nigh to striking the valet for having mentioned such a possibility. But next day the carpenters, that were making ready to return to St. Mary’s City, found themselves engaged for another three months, for the purpose of rebuilding the house they had just completed. Moreover, their new job involved no carpentry at all, but laying bricks. First Monsieur sent a party to explore the beaches for clay; when they found a good bed he set half his crew to digging, shaping, and firing, and the other half to mixing mortar and laying the finished bricks. What he did, in effect, was erect a new house of brick to encase the wooden one, leaving all the doors and windows in their origin
al locations. It wanted four months instead of three to complete the job, during which period Indians were remarked more frequently than before, in ones and twos. The finished manor even Maman remembers as a formidable affair.
“When the last brick was in place, Monsieur Edouard assembled all his workmen and servants before the house. Some weeks earlier, one of their number—I’ll have more to say of him anon: he was an English redemptioner so jealous of his master’s favor that he changed his name from James to Jacques—this fellow had found a salvage bow and arrows in the woods nearby, and now Cecile instructed him to secure a resinous pine knot to the shaft of an arrow, down by the head, and set it ablaze, after what was held to be the manner of the Indians.
“ ‘Now fire,’ he ordered Jacques. ‘Shoot the arrow at my house, s’il vous plait.’ The redemptioner took aim and, being a reasonably good marksman, contrived to hit the great house some thirty feet distant. The arrow glanced off the bricks and fell to the ground.
“ ‘Voilà!’ Cecile shouted in Alfred’s ear. ‘Can they harm us now?’
“ ‘I see no likelihood that they will, Monsieur. So long as the salvages have a care to aim only at the walls, we are as secure as the Bastille.’
“ ‘What new folly is this you’ve hatched?’
“ ‘Should they shoot from the woods, Monsieur,’ Alfred ventured, ‘as they assuredly would do, why then they must needs aim high, the more so since these fire-arrows are so heavy. Reason dictates that a high trajectory would be most likely to bring the arrows down upon the roof, and the roof is still made of wood.’
“For some moments Cecile could not find his voice, and the fellow with the bow, who was envious of Alfred’s position in the household, offered to put his theory to the test; but Cecile snatched away the bow and dismissed the company, calling them idlers and ne’er-do-wells. On the following day the men found themselves dispatched in search of slate, for the purpose of recovering the roof… .
“Now it happens that there is not a piece of roofing slate in the whole of Dorset; the men combed the countryside and the riverbanks for days and discovered naught but a few hunting Indians here and there. These they joyfully reported to their employer, who grew so frightened that he scarcely durst venture beyond his palissade, and cursed Alfred with every breath. Finally he ordered the workmen to cover the peaked roof with large, flat bricks. Under the additional weight the rafters commenced to buckle; it became necessary to fashion heavy piers from whole logs to support them. The job required another month and immeasurable bother, inasmuch as portions of the floors and partitions had to be removed to accommodate the piers. Upon its completion the house looked secure indeed, if somewhat grotesque: it was during this period that the laborers dubbed it The Castle in jest, and Monsieur Edouard, for once more flattered than annoyed, renamed his property Castlehaven. Again the company was assembled before the main entrance, and obliging Jacques lobbed a new fire-arrow onto the roof. It struck the tiles, rolled down the slope, and came to rest upon a cornice, where it burned out.
“ ‘Well, sir?’ Cecile demanded, and none replied. Alfred looked away.
“ ‘I command you to say truthfully, on pain of flogging: is my castle invulnérable? My Jacques shall fire where’er you wish!”
“ ‘I have no love for floggings, Monsieur.’
“ ‘Then you must command him.’
“Jacques, I imagine, was so pleased that he could scarcely manage to light a new fire-arrow and draw the bow. ‘Into a window,’ Alfred murmured, ‘any window…’ And he indicated with his arm the rows of open window frames on both floors of the house.
“ ‘Son of a harlot!’ Cecile cried, and this time when he snatched the bow he took a cut at Alfred, who’d surely had his skull cracked had he not sprung back. The company dispersed, and Alfred was birched that night for the first time since, on his advice, the ménage Edouard had abandoned Paris. During the next week all the first-floor windows were bricked in, and those on the second floor were reduced to shuttered embrasures like cannon-ports. The absence of light and air made living downstairs intolerable, but so secure was Cecile in his fortress that he was actually smiling when he assembled everyone for the third time to witness his triumph over his servant.
“ ‘Have I left aught undone?’
“ ‘Naught, Monsieur, that I can imagine.’
“ ‘Ha, did you hear, mes amis? Monsieur Alfred hath assured me I am safe. I think he will detain you no longer. Make ready to depart.’
“ ‘Ah, Monsieur, I shouldn’t dismiss them.’
“Cecile squeezed the valet’s arm. ‘Oh, you shouldn’t, shouldn’t you? And may your poor master hear the reason?’
“ ‘When the workmen are gone, Monsieur, you will have only your servants and yourself to defend the house: four men to a door. But the salvage, if he hath a fancy to attack us, will attack from every side—’
“ ‘Flog this man!’ Cecile cried, and the fellow was dragged off by Jacques and the others. Then the overseer of the workmen enquired whether his men were free to go. ‘Idiot!’ Cecile thundered. ‘Close up the doorways, all save one, and fix two stout crossbars to that!’
“In a day the final alterations were completed, and without risking another consultation with Alfred, Cecile sent the workmen back to St. Mary’s City, where they doubtless still relate the tale of their curious labors. As soon as they were gone Monsieur entered his castle, inspected the three bricked-up doorways to make certain no cracks were left unsealed, swung the two great crossbars to and fro upon their pivots to assure himself of their adequacy, and ascended the dark stairs to his sitting-room—all the habitable rooms were perforce upstairs; only Cecile slept below, away from the window slits. He summoned Alfred to him.
“ ‘Is it not a pleasant thing to be altogether secure from the onslaughts of the salvage?’
“Alfred held his peace.
“ ‘Damn you, sir; speak up! Do we not rest here in a fortress in no way vulnerable?’
“Alfred went to one of the apertures and surveyed the scene below.
“ ‘Answer me! If there is a gap in my defenses (which of course there is not), I command you to tell me, or by our Lord I’ll have you flayed alive!’
“Alfred was afraid to turn from the window, but he said, ‘There is one, Monsieur.’
“Cecile sprang from his chair. ‘Then tell me!’
“ ‘I should rather not, Monsieur, for the reason that it is irremediable.”
“ ‘You have gone mad!’ Monsieur Edouard whispered. ‘Nay, I see it! You say these things to torment me; to make me spend myself into poverty! I see the plot, sir!’ He demanded again to be told, but Alfred durst not speak. At that moment there was a sound at the front door: someone entered, and in the room the two men heard the crossbars swing into place and soft footsteps ascend the stair. Monsieur Edouard came near to swooning.
“ ‘The salvages are in the house! How shall we escape?’
“Alfred’s expression was apologetic. ‘Where many exits are,’ he said, ‘are many entrances, Monsieur. Where but one entrance is, there is no exit.’
“Then the voice of Madame Edouard came meekly from the stair. ‘Cecile? Would you please have Alfred attend those crossbars? I find them difficult to close.’
“Her husband made no reply, and Sophie, who was used to such rebuffs, presently returned downstairs. Alfred, meanwhile, had gone once more to the embrasure, and now Monsieur Edouard, his heart still pounding, crept up behind and caught him under the shoulders. The servant was old and frail; the master middle-aged and robust: albeit the opening was none too large, Cecile soon had his valet squeezed through it, and Alfred’s head was entirely smashed upon the new brick terrace below.
“ ‘He fell,’ Cecile announced to the household shortly after, and no one questioned bun. That night Monsieur had his bedding shifted from the first floor up into the attic, under the rafters, where despite the poor ventilation he retired content beside the great hewn piers. Below, where the househ
old slumbered, the single door was fastened with its double crossbars. Jacques, the new valet, assured his master that he was in every way invulnerable—and Cecile slept soundly.”
Henrietta delivered the final sentence with her eyes closed and her voice sardonically hushed. There was a pause, and then Anna cried, “Is that the end, Henrietta?”
The girl pretended surprise. “Why of course it is! That is, the tale ends there—what could Homer add to’t? As for the history, ’tis curious enough, but it hath the nature of an anticlimax. The Castle burned to the ground not long after, from the inside out, and my grandfather and grandmother burned with it. Maman was saved by Jacques, that some folk guessed had set the fire; he raised her in his own house till she married Papa, and pretended to be her uncle till the day he died. Don’t you think a castle should last longer than that?”
The three listeners praised both the story itself and Henrietta’s rendering of it; Ebenezer, in particular, was touched by her combination of spirit, beauty, and wit, and was surprised to discover among his feelings a certain envy for McEvoy.
“ ’Twas a tale well told,” he said, “and nicely pointed as one of Aesop’s. Throw wide the doors and let the pirates in!” Henrietta reminded him of his promise to surpass it, and the poet’s tone grew warm and serious. “ ’Tis a chore that gives me pleasure, for it brings you closer to Anna and me than ever friendship could.”
“Marry, then out with’t!” Anna too regarded him wonderingly.
“ ’Tis as rare and happy a turn as e’er the dice of Chance have thrown,” Ebenezer said. “Your mother, Henrietta, is the same our father once saved from drowning in the Choptank! She—she was our wet nurse after Mother died a-bearing me and her own child died a-bearing, and till the fourth year of our life, when Father fetched us back to England, she was as much to us as any mother could be!” He finished his revelation with tears in his eyes.
