Our strong recommendation is that both should be exiled to the farthest Eastern deserts.
Interrogation of the larger suspect was conducted through the smaller. We had no other suitable interpreter, but are satisfied that (A), the smaller suspect, even though simple-minded, has provided us with accurate information.
The larger (L) described an unusual upbringing. His father did not follow the normal pattern of behaviour of his kind. Instead of gathering a harem around him and insisting that they provided food for the group until eventually he was expelled by someone stronger, usually a son, he encouraged his cubs to be independent, enquiring, and only to kill what they required. He taught L and the other sons respect for their elders, perhaps with an eye to his own old age. L developed an interest in travellers and camels and used to watch the caravans which passed the hills where he lived. He observed that many travellers had such an offensive smell that it made him feel quite ill, but he liked camels, especially when tethered at night.
One day, keeping watch on a group of camels, he stood upon a sharp jagged object which pierced his paw. Over the next two weeks, the wound festered and the paw increased to the size of an antelope’s head. He could not walk and developed a fever with rigors plus dreadful pain in his foot and sheltered in a cave well away from the travellers’ routes.
Late one evening while asleep in this cave he was awakened by the combined smell of a traveller in his cave and the odour of camel. He stirred but could not stand. In the morning he saw a thin, dirty, dishevelled person dressed in rags, and outside the cave lay an emaciated camel, legs in the air. He groaned, the man saw him, and began to smell even worse. However in time the traveller approached him and saw the swollen paw with the protruding short shaft of a broken arrow. To his astonishment the man bent down and ignored the soft growl which was all L could utter. With a steady quick movement he pulled the arrow which came out with a gush of pus. The pain, worse for a moment, eased. Then the man went to his saddle bags, and brought water and some meat. L was unable to eat but drank the water and slept comfortably for the first time for many days.
When he awakened, the paw had improved and the man had skinned and butchered the dead camel. L was able to eat a haunch. For several days they both lived in the cave though the man went out each dawn and dusk to explore the countryside. L gradually began to tolerate the man’s extraordinary smell, so much stronger than most men’s, and the increasingly unpleasant smell of the camel’s remains. And A and L found that they could communicate in a simple manner.
After a week L was able to walk again. The man returned one morning from his exploring, picked up his saddle bags, gave L a last piece of dried camel and a pat, and walked away. L continued to improve, hunted successfully, and after reflecting on the experience, returned to his previous way of life.
One year later he was captured and brought to Rome. He complained to us that treatment was poor though he was fed regularly. He hated the smell of his captors and also the smell of the people brought to the Coliseum for destruction. When A was pushed into the arena L was about to spring upon him when he was stopped by the powerful and very distinctive smell of A and remembered the cure of his paw. Your Highness observed their emotional re-union, and in your infinite wisdom and mercy granted freedom and citizenship to both.
They have refused all our offers and encouragements to provide a regular spectacle for paying Romans, and when we sought to apply a little pressure to A, L became hostile. Local accommodation for freed lions, even Roman citizens, has been very difficult to find, and A’s uncouth and unwashed appearance makes inn-keepers unwilling to provide lodging. We recommend that they be moved far away to the east where they can find a suitable unoccupied cave.
Your Humble Servants,Septimus Uno and Septimus Duo.
A BETTER DAY IN BAGHDAD
He looked down at the sleeping child. His wife Shafila would not meet his eyes. “Must you go?” she whispered. Gruffly he replied “We must eat and the child may need medicine.” “I know, but I’m so frightened every time you go through that door. Promise me you won’t volunteer for anything.” “My dear, I promise that. If the electricity comes on, please charge up the batteries and when the water runs, fill the containers.” “I know dear – don’t worry about us. I know what to do – you must just be very careful.”
He tightened his uniform, checked the MP6, pulled on a head-stocking, and looked carefully around before going through the main door of the flats. As he left he thought as he did every morning “Anyone who sees me leave knows there is one target living inside, even if they don’t know who.” His transport stood round a nearby corner, two heavily armed policemen in the back. Quickly he climbed inside. “Where today?” he asked the driver.
“Across the river – an exercise. Better than going to the airport.”
They moved off and joined a convoy of similar vehicles led by a heavily armoured car. At the river bridge he glanced at the brown water and looked away. Less than a month ago his unit had fished out the previous night’s bodies. Over the far side of the bridge most people shared his faith so they were in slightly less danger, though there were none of the roadblocks which provided security to some city blocks. In the country there was always the risk of an ambush or a rocket, but today the vehicles were too numerous and heavily armoured to be targets for kidnapping or bogus check-points.
At the end of the day he collected his pay packet, and was dropped near, but not too near, to the block of flats. He slipped into the entrance hall and stiffened as two men emerged from a ground-floor door, then he recognised them as neighbours despite turned-up collars. They nodded to each other.
At his own door, he tapped the code which meant “All’s well. Open up.” and his wife swung the door open on creaky hinges.
Inside he embraced her. “How’s the boy?” he asked. “He seems better.” “Good. We had a quiet day with scarcely any firing. Most of today’s deaths have been in the north. And I was paid, so we should have enough for the next few days.”
“Oh, Mustapha, there was a letter brought by Abu’s wife and she had it from a friend. I pray it is not more threats. Here it is.”
He took the envelope, examined it carefully, and smelled it. “I don’t recognise the writing and there isn’t a stamp or postmark.” He opened it, read the contents, opened a smaller envelope inside the first, and sat down heavily.
Lips trembling, he looked up at his wife. “Allah be praised. It is from Muhammad. He drives a cab in Detroit. He makes money and has sent enough for us to join Abdelmajid in Amman. Unless we have to pay more than is usual, we shall be able to live there for several weeks while I look for work or we plan to move on to another country. I know someone who will sell us a Jordan entry certificate.” And he saw Shafila’s face twist into a smile for the first time since their son was born.
She turned, pulled the curtain back, picked up their baby, whispered “You can have a future now”, and kissed him.
BELINDA GOES EAST.
Once upon a time, dearly beloved, a boy and a girl lived in the same street. Their first names were Belinda and Brian and second names were James and Jones. They were so close to each other in the alphabet that they sat next to each other in school classes. They had no brothers or sisters, so might have become friends if their temperaments had been similar.
One day Mr. and Mrs. James (or was it Jones - their names were so alike?) gave a small dinner party for Mr. and Mrs. Jones (or was it James?). Before the meal the two children had their baths and were put to bed upstairs. The food had scarcely been served when Belinda opened the door, lifted up her nightie, and began to run around the table. Her parents looked on fondly and smiled as she climbed on their knees, ate some of the food and tried the wine, laughing and talking loudly. She knocked a wineglass over the tablecloth while her mother said “There, There.” and gave her a big hug and a kiss. Then Belinda climbed over Brian’s father to take a piece of food from his plate and began to tug his moustache. He turned
red, clenched and unclenched his hands and shuddered. At that moment Brian knocked on the door and pushed it open. There were tears in his eyes. “I am sorry to disturb you, but Belinda has taken all my bedclothes. May I put my jersey on to keep warm, please?” His mother got up “Yes, dear, I’ll take you back to bed - You know you are not allowed to come down.”
After an hour Belinda became tired and went to bed. Her mother said “I do so like to see a happy child. Everybody should do whatever makes them happy.” while her father nodded. “And I like a well-behaved one.” said Brian’s father in his deep voice. They all looked at each other and changed the subject.
At school Belinda was the leader of a wild group of girls, while Brian worked quietly and hard. He sometimes tidied up when the girls had finished rampaging, and as form prefect he sometimes had to identify culprits to the teachers. Although Belinda never seemed to work and was often caught cheating, she usually came near the top of the class.
In time Belinda and Brian went to college. One was wild, stayed up all night at parties, and tried drink, drugs, rebellion, cigarettes and boys while the other studied, played rugger and kept fit by jogging. You can easily guess which was which. When they left college they hoped never to see each other again, but chance had other plans in store.
Several years went by and Belinda, - you must realise that at heart she was a kindly person - decided to make the world a better place. She chose to start with a particularly hot and jungly Eastern country, ruled by forty fat generals. The poor downtrodden peasants of the country wore big hats to protect themselves from the sun, and had stiff backs from bending over to plant rice during the rains, sore backs from bending to harvest it later in the year, and very sore backs if the generals’ men or the police thought they were slacking. There were especially severe punishments for anyone who said that he or she was dissatisfied with their circumstances, or would prefer a change of rulers.
Belinda visited the capital city, and asked everyone she met whether they were happy. Many people ran away when she asked, but some whispered that they wanted change. She heard about a lady who won an election and had immediately been locked up by the biggest and fattest of the generals. Several people warned Belinda that the police were watching her, but Belinda said “I’m happy! Who cares? And I want to make all of you happy and free like me.”
One day Belinda stood in the main square and began to sing at the top of her voice. She sang three anti-general songs while a small crowd watched silently. Soon the police came, put Belinda in a van, and took her to prison.
The prison was far more horrid than she had expected. Food was disgusting, everything was dirty, and nobody could speak English. When she sang one of the songs again, women warders came and hit her. She demanded to see the British ambassador or one of his staff, but the warders just looked at her impassively, locked her door, and went away. Belinda realised with most unpleasant clarity that she was no longer happy, and that no one seemed to care. Where were her loving parents and her friends? Where indeed was the British Empire? Then she mentally corrected herself – the British Government?
For several days the police came and questioned her in their own language, which Belinda did not understand. They brought papers which she refused to sign. Eventually she was taken to an office where a young uniformed man spoke English. In front of him lay a file.
“Sit down, Miss James. What are you doing in my country?”
“I demand to speak to the British ambassador.”
“There is no ambassador at present, but when I have answers to my questions I will inform his representatives of your wishes.”
“I refuse to speak without a representative of the embassy.”
“Very well, you may return to your cell.”
During the next week Belinda saw the young officer several times and refused to answer any questions. She wondered if anyone knew where she was and whether her parents and friends were worried. At the next interview she said,
“Oh all right then. I will answer. I asked people if they were happy, and I found that they were unhappy living under your fat generals.”
“In my country, large size indicates prosperity and importance. Why were you asking these questions, and singing anti-government songs?”
“I learned that people were unhappy or frightened - they need to be able to become confident and happy.”
“And for this you recommend revolution? Do you not know how much blood has been shed in countries near here? Millions have died in revolutions. Is that the happiness that you wish them?”
“Everyone should do what makes them happy.” replied Belinda sulkily. “Now will you notify the embassy?”
The officer said “Ruling certainly makes some of the generals and the army happy.” and the interview was over.
Belinda talked with the officer every day that week, and every day she asked when someone would come from the embassy.
“I notified the embassy the first day that you began to answer my questions.” he replied. One day she asked him if he himself was happy, and he paused before answering
“I am made happy by doing my duty.”
On Monday of the third week, Belinda had a tall visitor. He stood outside her door, looming darkly in the narrow corridor. The figure asked
“Belinda James?”
“Yes”, she replied.
“I am from the British embassy - you have given us a great deal of trouble.”
A warder opened her door, passed in a chair, and the stranger entered. He sat on the chair.
“It’s about time you came. What’s been holding you up? When can you get me out of here?”
He looked at her “Let me introduce myself - I am Brian Jones, Deputy Temporary Assistant Second Secretary at the British Embassy. Do you not recognise me?”
“Good heavens - Brian – teacher’s sneaky pet! What are you doing here?”
“I work here as a diplomat and I have to tell you how careful and how prudent we all must be. There are important commercial concerns to protect, and this is a delicate time. But of course my colleagues and I will endeavour to have you released and expelled as soon as possible.”
“But I came to help the people here, to make them happy.”
“And instead of that, Belinda, you are just another mouth to feed in the prison. Be thankful you were not put into a hard labour party.”
“But I have not been told of any charges or been tried.”
“Emergency regulations allow you to be detained for up to five years while a case is assembled, after which you may consult a lawyer. I can certainly arrange for the embassy lawyer to visit you and explain the details. The authorities here are very straightforward when dealing with dissent – and their system works very smoothly. Our mining, leisure and defence firms all sing the government’s praises - the rates of commission for contracts are reasonable and nobody rocks the boat.”
“But the people I spoke to were miserable.”
“You spoke to the wrong people, and certainly singing revolutionary songs in the town square is not the way to influence this society. However in the office we do not think you are part of any serious international conspiracy and we have conveyed our conclusions to the appropriate organisations in London.”
“You always were a stuffy prig. Brian. When can you get me out of here? And what about letting my parents know?”
“We have written to them of course, and I will tell them that you are held in good conditions. I shall also make sure that you receive any personal messages.”
“Good conditions - nonsense! Solitary confinement! Filthy food! Tell them that.”
“Belinda, it would only worry them, and your conditions are very good compared with other prisoners. You have been very lucky that they did not discover drugs in your belongings, which is a far worse offence. Anyway, I believe I’ll be able to make representations to the government, and I hope we can have you out in a few weeks - just as soon as the contracts to which I referred are signed
.”
Belinda put her head in her hands, trying to control fury and dismay.
“Be patient, Belinda. The service always has Britain’s best interests at heart.”
And when she looked up, he had gone, and the door was locked.
Two days passed, and Belinda was taken back to the prison officer.
“Good morning, Miss James. After the embassy visit I am delighted to say that discussions have led us to drop charges. We will repatriate you as soon as is prudent. But the embassy wishes to provide you with proper support and an escort to London which will not be available for two weeks. To keep fraternal relationships between our nations warm and close, my department has agreed you shall remain our guest here until the embassy can provide secure accommodation. I understand that Mr. Jones knew you from years ago - he is said to be a most promising young diplomat.”
“He was a beastly creep at school and college, always sucking up to people. The thing that made him most happy was reporting me to some authority or other.
“Miss James - I feel I can speak informally now that charges have been dropped. Why are you so concerned about happiness? What about Mr. Jones’ happiness or that of our government here?”
“Until I came here I was happy and wanted everyone else to be happy. I hate seeing people miserable, I hate rules and regulations, and all fat generals create misery. For me Paradise would be a happy anarchy.”
The telephone rang - he listened and replaced it.
“That news was about you. The embassy has arranged secure and safe accommodation and has guaranteed that while you are in our country you will not ask any more of our citizens whether they are happy, nor will you sing out of doors. In legal terms that will be house arrest, under the personal guardianship of Mr. Jones. He will come with an escort later today. May I wish you well, Miss James. I also wish benefits for my compatriots and intend to work towards a better future, but within our culture and our peaceful system.”
Barnabas Tales Page 8
