by Anna Kavan
We were alone in the rich room. Persian rugs on the parquet floor, period furniture, on the wall a full-length portrait of him by a well-known painter. My worn, shabby, unpressed uniform emphasized, by contrast, the elegant grandeur of his, which had gold emblems on cuffs and shoulders, and, on the chest, the ribbons of various orders. He stood up; I had not remembered him as being so tall. The touch of the grand manner he had always had was more marked than when I last saw him. I was not at ease. His presence affected me in the usual way; but, with such obvious differences between us, the idea of contact, however obscure, seemed inappropriate and embarrassing. When he said coldly, “It’s no use forcing your way in here. I’m just leaving,” I felt confused, and could only repeat: “I must speak to you first.” “Impossible. I’m late as it is.” He glanced at his watch, started toward the door. “Surely you can wait just a moment!” In my anxiety, I hurriedly stepped in front of him. I should have known better. His eyes flashed; he was angry; I had thrown away my one chance. I cursed myself for a fool. Perhaps my downcast expression amused him: at all events, his attitude suddenly seemed to change, he half smiled. “I can’t hold up the entire war just to talk to you. If there’s something you must say, you’ll have to come with me.” I was delighted. This was better than anything I had expected. “May I? That’s wonderful!” I thanked him enthusiastically. He burst out laughing.
The road to the airfield was lined with people waiting to catch a glimpse of him as we drove past. They stood six deep at the roadside, watched from gardens, windows, balconies, roofs, trees, hoardings, telegraph poles. Some of them must have waited a long time. I was impressed by the force of his immediate impact on the crowd.
Sitting beside him in the plane, I was conscious of curious glances from its other occupants. It was strange to look down and see the earth, not flat or gently curved, but as a segment of a round ball, the sea light blue, the land yellowish-green. Overhead it was dark-blue night. Drinks were brought, I was handed a tinkling glass. “Ice! What luxury!” He glanced at my dilapidated uniform, made a grimace. “You can’t expect luxury if you insist on being a hero.” The words were mocking, but the smile had some degree of charm. He might even have been taking a friendly interest. “May I ask why you have suddenly become one of our heroic fighters?” I knew I should have spoken about a job. Instead, for some reason, I told him I’d had to do something drastic to cure my depression. “Funny sort of cure. More likely to kill you.” “Perhaps that’s what I wanted.” “No, you’re not the suicide type. Anyway, why bother, when we’re all going to be killed next week?” “As soon as that?” “Well, perhaps not literally. But certainly very soon.” I recognized the trick of blinking his eyes, making the bright blue pupils flash as if they reflected a dazzling blue light. It was the sign that something had not been said. Of course, he had secret information. He always knew everything before anyone else.
An enormous dinner was served. It seemed altogether too lavish, I could not eat half of it. I had got out of the way of eating big meals. Afterward I tried again to say what I had come to say, but the sentences would not take shape in my head. I found myself thinking of him, and remarked on how little surprise he had shown over my arrival. “I was almost expecting you.” His expression was rather odd. “You have a way of turning up just before things happen.” He seemed to speak quite seriously. “You really expect the catastrophe within weeks or days?” “Looks like it.”
Blinds were drawn, shutting out the sky. A film was to be shown. He muttered in my ear: “Wait till their attention’s fixed on the screen. Then I’ll show you something more interesting. It’s supposed to be kept secret.” I waited, curious. We left our seats quietly, went through a door, faced an uncovered window. I was confused about time. It had been night overhead all along, but below it was still daylight. There were no clouds. I saw islands scattered over the sea, a normal aerial view. Then something extraordinary, out of this world: a wall of rainbow ice jutting up from the sea, cutting right across, pushing a ridge of water ahead of it as it moved, as if the flat pale surface of sea was a carpet being rolled up. It was a sinister, fascinating sight, which did not seem intended for human eyes. I stared down at it, seeing other things at the same time. The ice world spreading over our world. Mountainous walls of ice surrounding the girl. Her moon-white skin, her hair sparkling with diamond prisms under the moon. The moon’s dead eye watching the death of our world.
When we left the plane we were in a remote country, a town I did not know. The warden had come to attend an important conference, people were waiting for him, all sorts of urgent affairs. I was flattered because he seemed in no hurry to leave me. He said: “You should have a look round, it’s an interesting place.” The town had only lately changed hands, and I asked if the troops had not done a lot of damage; received the reply: “Don’t forget some of us are civilized people.”
In his splendid uniform he strolled beside me in beautifully kept gardens, attended by armed guards in black and gold. I was proud to be with him. He was a fine-looking man who kept himself in every way at the height of his powers, all his muscles exercised like an athlete’s, his intellect and his senses deliberately sharpened. He radiated tremendous dominance, besides an intense physical vitality, zest for living. His aura of power and success seemed to fill the surrounding air, and even extend to me. Walking past artificial cascades, we came to a lily pool where the stream widened. Giant willow trees trailed long green hair in the water, made an inviting grotto of cool green shade. We sat on a stone seat, watched a kingfisher tracing jeweled parabolas. Motionless gray shadows, herons stood here and there in the shallows. It was a private, peaceful, idyllic scene; violence was worlds away. I thought, but did not say, that it seemed a pity people were not allowed to enjoy all this tranquil beauty. As if he read my mind, he told me: “The public used to be admitted on certain days. But we had to suspend the practice on account of vandalism. Hooligans did the damage the armies refrained from doing. There are people you can’t teach to appreciate beauty. They’re subhuman.”
On the far side of the river a troop of small gazelle-like creatures had come to drink, lifting and lowering graceful horned heads. The guards stood at a distance. Alone with my companion, I felt closer to him than ever before; we were like brothers, like identical twin brothers. Drawn to him more strongly than I had ever been, I had to give my feelings some expression, told him how much I appreciated his kindness, how greatly I was honored to be his friend. Something was wrong. He did not smile or acknowledge the compliment, but abruptly stood up. I got up too, while across the water the animals fled, alarmed by our movements. The atmosphere was changing round me; suddenly there was a chill, as if the warm air had passed over ice. I felt a sudden uncomprehended terror, like the sensation that comes in nightmares just before one begins to fall.
In a moment he had turned on me, his eyes flashing blue danger, his face a grim mask. “Where is she?” His voice was fierce, curt, icy. It was as if he had whipped out a gun and pointed it at me. I was horrified; confused by the sudden switch from one emotion to another totally different, I could only stammer stupidly: “I suppose where I left her . . .” He gave me a look of ice. “You mean you don’t know?” His accusatory tone froze. I was too appalled to reply.
The guards came closer, formed a circle round us. To shade their eyes, prevent recognition, or inspire dread, they wore as part of their uniform black plastic visors which covered the upper part of the face so that they looked masked. I vaguely remembered hearing about their toughness, that they were convicted thugs and murderers, whose sentences had been remitted in exchange for their absolute loyalty to his person.
“So you’ve abandoned her.” Arrows of blue ice piercing a blizzard, his eyes narrowed and struck. “I hardly expected that, even of you.” The abysmal contempt in his voice made me wince and mutter: “You know she’s always been hostile. She sent me away.” “You don’t know how to handle her,” he stated coldly. “I’
d have licked her into shape. She only needs training. She has to be taught toughness, in life and in bed.” I could not speak, could not collect myself: I was in a state of shock. When he asked, “What do you propose to do about her?” I found nothing to say. His eyes were watching me all the time with a frigid scorn and remoteness that was too painful, too humiliating. Their blue blaze seemed to stop me thinking. “I shall take her back then.” In half a dozen dry words he disposed of her future, she had no say in the matter.
At that moment I was more concerned with him, linked to him so closely, as if we shared the same blood. I could not bear to be alienated from him. “Why are you so angry?” I went a step closer, tried to touch his sleeve, but he moved out of my reach. “Is it only because of her?” I could not believe this, the bond between him and myself seemed so strong. Just then she was nothing to me by comparison, not even real. We could have shared her between us. I may have said something of the kind. His face was carved in stone, his cold voice hard enough to cut steel, he was thousands of miles away. “As soon as I can make time I shall go and fetch her. And then keep her with me. You won’t see her again.”
There was no bond, never had been, except in my imagination. He was not my friend, had never been close to me, identification was nothing but an illusion. He was treating me as someone beneath contempt. In a feeble attempt to re-establish myself, I said I had tried to save her. His eyes were terribly hard and blue, I could hardly meet them. His face was a statue’s, stony, it did not change. I forced myself to go on looking him in the face. Only his mouth finally moved to say: “She will be saved, if that’s possible. But not by you.” Then he turned and strolled off in his grand uniform with gold epaulets. A few paces away he paused, lit a cigarette, keeping his back toward me, strolled on again without giving me a glance. I saw him lift one hand and make a sign to the guards.
They closed in, inhuman in their black masks. Rubber truncheons crashed into me, I was kicked in the groin, in falling my head must have struck the stone seat, I passed out. This was lucky for me. Apparently it did not amuse them to beat an unconscious body. There was no sign of them when I came round. My head throbbed and rang, even to open my eyes was a fearful effort, every inch of my body ached, but nothing was broken. Pain confused me, made me uncertain of what had happened, of the length of time that had elapsed, of the sequence of events. In my confusion I could not understand being let off so lightly, until it occurred to me that the guards meant to come back later to finish the job. If they found me here I was done for. I could hardly move, but with infinite labor dragged myself down to the river, everything swaying round me, fell among rushes and lay for some time with my face in the mud.
When a far-off sound roused me it was almost dark. In the distance a semicircle of dark shapes was slowly advancing, as if searching. I got a fright, I thought they were people looking for me and kept quite motionless. They must have been animals grazing, for when I next looked up they had gone. The shock made me realize that I had to get moving. I crawled on to the water’s edge, let the river run over the wound in my head, washed another deep gash on my cheekbone, washed off some of the blood and mud.
The cold water revived me. Somehow or other I managed to reach the park gates, even started walking along a street, but collapsed after a short distance. A carload of noisy young people coming back from a celebration saw me lying in the road and stopped to investigate. They thought I was one of their party who had fallen down drunk. I persuaded them to drive me to the hospital, where a doctor attended to me. I invented some story to account for my injuries and was given a bed in the casualty department. I slept for two or three hours. The clanging bell of an ambulance woke me. Stretcherbearers came tramping in. To move was appallingly difficult, all I wanted was to lie still and go on sleeping. But I knew it was too dangerous, I dared not stay any longer.
While the night staff were occupied with the new arrival, I crept through a side door into a dark corridor and left the building.
FOURTEEN
My head was aching, everything was confused inside it. I knew only that I had to get out of the town before daylight. I could not think. The hallucination of one moment did not fit the reality of the next. In a narrow alley, a car came tearing toward me to run me down, filling the whole space between alp-high houses. With bleeding knuckles I staggered from door to locked door, at the last moment crushed myself up against one. In uniform, immensely grand, the warden drove past in his great black car. The girl was with him, her hair shimmering violet like the shadows of trees on snow. They drove through the snow together under a white fur rug, wide as a room, deep as a snowdrift, edged with cabochon rubies.
Lit by the dazzling cold fire of the aurora borealis, they walked among glittering icebergs; a blizzard blew arctic white, his bone-white forehead and icicle eyes, her silver-frosted hair bright with ice flowers under the pole star. A thunderclap boomed in the ice. He fought a polar bear, strangled it with his hands, to train her in toughness taught her to take the skin with his wicked knife. When it was done, she crept close for warmth. The huge skin covered them both, its long white hairs tipped with blood. The snowy thickness hid their two bodies; blood dripping from the tips of the dense fur turned the snow blood-red.
I saw her standing in torchlight with dreaming eyes. I watched her, wanted her, wanted to take her away with me. But that other had claimed her; her white girl’s body fell through the smoke of smoldering torches across his knees. I was out searching for her, marauders were sacking the town. I searched everywhere, could not find her, stumbled over her in the rubble, her head awry. Through the smoke and dust filling the air, I saw her skin white against dirt and debris, the blood first red and then black on the white, her head twisted sideways by the unbelievable hair, the slender neck broken. Victimization in childhood had made her accept the fate of a victim, and whatever I did or did not do this fate would ultimately achieve itself. To leave her to it was one thing. To leave her to that man was quite a different thing. It was something I could not do.
I had to get to her before he did. But the difficulties were overwhelming. The total absence of transport meant resorting to bribery, every kind of deception, worse. In my mind’s eye I kept seeing the iceline moving across the ocean, toward the islands, toward that particular island I had not identified on the map. I thought of her at the center, not knowing she was encircled, while we advanced toward her from different sides, I from one point, he from another, and then the ice . . . My chances of arriving first seemed almost non-existent. Every mile would be slow and difficult for me. He could get to her by plane in just a few hours, whenever he felt inclined. I could only hope for the important conference he was now attending and other military matters to detain him as long as possible. But I was not optimistic.
My head wound and slashed face had begun to heal normally, but I did not feel normal. My head ached all the time, I was pursued by horrific visions, disasters exploding in violent death, universal destruction. I was always aware that I was going to execution. Not that my own death seemed to matter. I had lived, I had done things, I had seen the world. I did not want to grow old, deteriorate, lose my intelligence and my physical faculties. But I had this compulsive urge to see the girl once more; to be the first to reach her.
I had to travel an enormous distance. Because I could not risk crossing the frontier openly, for two days I went on foot through wild country, without shelter, without food or drink. Later I had the luck to be taken some of the way by helicopter. A naked woman, life-size, was painted on the side in crude colors; pop art in the midst of war. A person in occupation had to be disposed of; I was not going to lose the chance of a lift. The luck did not last. In a frenzy I searched the wreckage for the man who had been shot down. Only the painted face simpered at me among the debris, round pink circles for cheeks, black eyes blankly serene as a painted doll’s.
In a country at war I tried to keep away from the fighting, came to a town unexpectedl
y quiet, except for the lorries that thundered through, crammed with troops or workers. A dull gray day and a dull gray town, sickly women languidly slapping their dirty washing on flat river stones. I was worn out and started to lose heart. Without some form of transport I would never complete my journey. I saw nothing encouraging here. Passers-by averted their eyes when I looked at them; they were suspicious of strangers, and with my scarred face, my old torn muddy guerrilla’s outfit, my appearance could not have been reassuring. I went about searching for someone who looked approachable, found no such person. I talked to the owner of a garage, offered him money, a new foreign rifle with telescopic sights; he threatened to call the police, would do nothing to help me.
At dusk it began to rain, rained harder as night came on. A curfew was in force: no light showed from the houses, the streets were empty. I was taking a risk by staying outside, but was too despondent to care. A siren howled, distant crashes, gradually coming nearer, followed at intervals, alternating with bursts of gunfire. Rain fell in sheets, the street had become a river. I sheltered under an archway, shivered, could not think what to do; my brain seemed paralyzed by discomfort. I felt desperate, in despair.
