Zoltan had taken possession of a number of good quality sheets from Magus' trove and used them to replace some of the older and shabbier blankets used as tent cloths. As a result the tent took on both a more permanent and more beautiful look. It really did seem a wholly different architecture from the old atmosphere of the Ranch. It communicated its breath and spirit to everything, so the whole canyon was a new and different place.
Danny came up from the corral after retrieving Jonas' mount from the clifftop. He’d met Magada on the way and was smiling as he called out.
“You guys are a sight for sore eyes. You look so happy, this really could be your wedding day!”
Greta heard him and came out of the tent. “What's that? A wedding, today? I hadn't heard. How wonderful!”
Pascale protested. “No, no, Greta, it's just a silly game Magada’s playing. She's imagining the feast as a betrothal banquet. But really it’s for everyone. We're all betrothing each other!”
“Well, whatever you call it, you absolutely have to be the bride, Pascale. And my personal contribution is that we find you something suitable to wear, something better than that drab you’ve always got on. Isn't it fortunate we're just about the same size, I think I have just the thing! So, please, do come with me, and try it.”
“Greta, I've gotten used to denim. I like it. And anyway, like I said, there's no wedding.”
“Don’t be a spoilsport! You don’t know how many times I dreamed of going to a wedding and I’ve never been to one, ever! Now I have the chance at least to imagine. All you have to do is wear my dress!”
Pascale rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too, shrugging and surrendering. “OK, I suppose it's a party game, I'll do it for you guys. You're right Greta, it will be something to remember.”
Greta led her off in triumph. She had gotten Zoltan and Elliot to carry her armoire to the women’s cabin, setting it up on the veranda. She told everyone they could have any of her clothes except for two dresses she wanted to keep for herself. One of these was now the one she picked out for Pascale, an elegant sheer silk evening dress, trimmed in silver-dust brocade and topped with an organdie bodice and collar. Tiny diamonds had been stitched along narrow seams of silk splayed across the shoulders and around the collar. While Pascale was struggling into the sheath, Greta fussed with her hair and finally got it into a bun like hers. From an inlaid jewelry box she took a fabulous silver hairpin, a long heavy clasp with a deep patina of age and the shaft blossoming at the end into a filigree of jasper and diamond flowers. It looked storied and priceless, as if Magus had looted it from a palace somewhere after the assassination of its royal household. Greta pushed it through Pascale's bun to hold it in place and set off her hair and dress. The effect was stunning.
Pepin was now banging the triangle impatiently, letting everyone know the food was ready. The meal was beginning in the mid-afternoon directly the first shadows hit the canyon tops, so there would still be plenty of warmth. The remainder of the residents came hurrying, and Katoucha directed them to their seats at the table, reserving the middle two for the wedding couple. Jonas was already in place, awaiting the arrival of Pascale. He had nothing to change into, but the tunic he wore was good quality and still not too dirty, and he had washed his face and slicked his hair. Pepin said they could wait no longer and he and his helpers began serving the first course, an amazing pozole made with chicken and wild tomatillos, hominy from the store, and chili peppers and garlic found in Magus' kitchen.
Just as the last bowl was being filled Pascale and Greta could be seen rounding the junction of the canyons, walking toward the tent. They were moving slowly as Pascale was barefoot and holding up the hem of her dress in order not to trip on it. As they drew closer almost everyone rose from their seats at the table, awed by the sight before them. Pascale was transformed, her natural grace and beauty now something ethereal, made of light itself. She had always shunned the sophisticated or revealing robes of Heaven but now her dress and jewelry had the effect that every Immortal always aspired to. It drew out an inner electricity and made it crackle in the sun-stretched air.
She took her place and the meal began in a mood of intoxication without a drop of alcohol yet consumed. The idea of the wedding had been a kind of game but now there was a side to it which was totally real and no one could quite say why. At the same time the food was better than they had ever expected. They finished the soup with multiple satisfied sighs, and Carly and Elliot cleared away the bowls. Katoucha and Pepin, glowing both with pride and the heat of the kitchen, brought out the main course. It was barbecued beef in a sauce of tinned mango with wild onions and bird peppers. The sides were helpings of thyme-seasoned sweet corn, black beans with herbs and chili, and a handful of baked Indian potatoes from one of the box canyons, a find made this time by Magada.
Directly after the food was served Carly and Elliot hurried out with a crate of Burgundy, of impossibly fine vintage, uncorking and pouring the wine into each outstretched cup. Once everyone was served the absence of conversation testified to the meal's own, mighty eloquence. Danny was eating like everyone else but he also looked around with contentment. He knew that a visit from the authorities was bound to come and it would not be friendly. He'd reinforced the gates on the northern canyon, adding a couple more chains and padlocks, although he realized this would not provide any barrier to a determined assault. But now he felt it did not matter. What they had here was all that counted, and it could never be taken away. He hoped the Immortals could come to see it and accept it, but whatever happened it would never be lost. After waiting a few more minutes, allowing time for people to take the edge off their appetite, he got to his feet holding his cup in hand.
“I have been asked to offer a toast to this occasion. There is nobody here who knows Pascale better than me. I have been her brother all her life. I was with her in our family TEP back in the North and then as a companion in the experiences of Heaven, and now finally in these prison canyons. We all have seen how beautiful she is, but what has happened here among you all is still more beautiful. I do not understand it properly, but Pascale has been able to make something come alive here. For that there are no words adequate. Jonas and she are getting betrothed, or we all are, it’s kind of confusing. But anyway it's a beautiful thing, and it seems like the only thing that measures up to what has happened here. It makes everything perfect. So, please, a toast! To Pascale and Jonas, the couple of the canyons! And to the rest of us who all love Pascale too!”
Everyone raised their glasses and echoed, “To Pascale and Jonas!” Then they drank, put down their cups and applauded. Someone said, “Jonas, Pascale, please reply, say something!”
“No, no, first let's finish the main course, then hear from the couple when dessert is served.” Magada insisted that everything be spaced out as in a proper banquet, making it more enjoyable. So the company continued to feast on the main course, including more grand cru from the bottles. Everyone was becoming splendidly relaxed and mellow as the meal proceeded. Everything felt right in every respect and all at the table felt the same. At last the dishes and plates were removed and a large bowl was carried out containing an astonishing fruit salad of oranges, peaches, grapes and papaya, all taken from Magus' store of canned fruit. While this was being served Magada signaled to Jonas that this could be the moment to say something.
Jonas got to his feet, clearing his throat. “It seems I must play a part, but to be honest it's not hard for me. If even in make-believe I am Pascale's promised one then this is the happiest day of my life. When I first set eyes on her, back there at the Shuttle Port when she arrived with Palmiro, she captured my soul before I even knew it. That was not something that was supposed to happen in Heaven. We Immortals are meant to be beyond crazy love, aren't we? We're supposed to effect pleasant liaisons, or even dangerous ones, but not to fall in love. Well, I am hereby a deviant. I have fallen in love with this woman.”
“But I know also this feast is not just about me. It's abo
ut all of us, and all of you here have given your heart to Pascale, just as she gave hers to you. And there’s nothing better to express this betrothal thing than the place where we’re sitting, this tent. So now I want to show you something special. When I first saw Pascale this morning up on the mesa she was holding a rock. It sounds strange, but it's a fact. She dropped the rock when she saw me coming but just now, when she was getting ready, I went back up there and looked around for it. And I think I found it!”
He bent down under the table and triumphantly retrieved a piece of yellow sandstone about the size of four fists. “Here, look!” And he pointed to a scratched design on one side, a rough but clear image of the tent they were in. “You see, Pascale believes the tent is important. Important enough to draw it in stone. So, for a betrothal gift from all of us I want to give you back, Pascale, your own tent. Everything that it has meant for you it has meant for us and more, much more. To you, then, with all our love!” And he handed her the stone with both his hands.
Pascale grimaced to herself remembering her intention to throw the rock as far away as she could. However, now that it had been returned to her with love it was impossible to treat it in that way. Indeed, as she held out her hands to take it, she felt a sudden upwelling of emotion. All that she had set out to do had really happened and it was coming back to her as love. She could not help it, but tears filled her eyes and came rolling down her cheeks. She held the stone in her hands on the table, and she felt its weight, heavy and light at the same time. It was like holding something to eat, but inside her, filling her with contentment and life. Her spirit jumped beyond the stars and descended deeper than the seas, and the people round her all seemed to belong to the same sensation, to be in the same beautiful space with her.
She got to her feet smiling and blinking through her tears. She could hardly see and right there in front of her were points of light like the shape of the starman. For a moment she just stood, holding her hands out to her beloved. But quickly too she turned and hugged Jonas next to her, whispering in his ear, and then, one by one, she went round everyone at the table and those serving, including Katoucha and Pepin. She embraced and whispered something to each one, telling them she loved them, how beautiful they were, that they truly were gods. It was a long moment but everyone followed her with their eyes, watching the expression change on the face of the person she was hugging, from general happiness to deep feeling. She was communicating to each person her own intensity of life, and each person seemed in their reaction to find the same boundless feeling in her embrace.
All the same Pepin could hardly bear the length of time she took. He was dying for a real drink. He crept away after Pascale had hugged him, back to the cantina store. He knew there were only one or two people left before Pascale had hugged everyone so he waited for what he thought was a suitable interval, then staggered out carrying a large tray. On it were balanced bottles of cognac, tequila and rum, bars of chocolate and boxes of cigars. He timed it just right and arrived at the tent as Pascale was returning to her seat. He set the tray down announcing joyfully and banging on the table, “Good liquor and smokes for all who want 'em! Come and get yours!”
At exactly that moment, at first confused with the banging on the table but then fearfully distinct, there was the sound of gunshots echoing down the canyon, coming from the west in the direction of the gate. Everyone froze, rooted to the spot. To one side of the assembly, the shadows had crept out from the southern wall to bisect the tent. Where Pascale stood she was in the semi-gloom and Jonas could not see her clearly as he looked toward her with sudden trepidation. Magada cried, “Here they come, sooner than anyone wanted!” and she dashed out from the tent. Danny looked for a moment as if he was going to follow her but he checked himself and stayed put. Everyone else seemed to shrink physically, as if what they'd been doing just a moment ago had rendered them exposed, in danger, and they needed to hide away if at all possible. Everyone, that is, but Pepin.
He used the moment to snap open a bottle of cognac and pour two generous cupsful. One he handed to Cormac and the other he drank quickly himself, pouring another at once. The soft thunder of galloping horses could be heard, gathering steadily in power. All eyes were turned in the direction of the sound, hypnotized by its quiet fury. No one said a word and then round the bend of the northern canyon came the stretching legs and heads of a body of horses ridden hard. They tore past the men's cabin and the cattle pen and came plunging to a stop as they drew level with the tent. The riders slowly circled round to the front and drew up, sitting the horses while they gazed incredulously at the scene before them. One of the men spoke.
“What in hell is going on here? Where is Magus?”
Out of nowhere Magada appeared. She placed herself between the tent and the riders, her hands squarely on her hips. “Magus is dead. He fell to his death from the top of the canyon. It was his own fault. He was attacking unarmed civilians and fell.”
The news and the tone in which it was delivered clearly surprised the riders. They looked at each other with quick eyes. The man who had spoken stared at Magada. “That is a lie. We are holding you and everyone else responsible for the murder of an appointed official until we get the precise facts on what took place. In the meantime we are looking for a man named Palmiro and wish to question his companion, Pascale. Where is she?”
Magada's hand darted behind her back and from her belt under her shirt she whipped out Magus' pistol. She pointed it straight at the man doing the talking and swiveled it quickly back and forth across the faces of the others as she saw their hands go to their own belts.
“None of you motherfuckers move. So help me the first one to go for his gun I'll blow you away and be glad to do it. Now get going, all of you. Get out of our canyon, now!”
Nobody moved. The men were clearly taken aback but long memories of other days served them instinctively. The woman was outnumbered and they knew it. The situation was extremely dangerous and it needed only one false step to become fatal. Pascale stepped out from the shadows of the tent and walked swiftly to stand next to Magada. If the riders had been surprised by Magada they were left open-mouthed by Pascale. All of them were aware of the general conditions of the Ranch and were used to viewing its residents as dirty, deviant, less than human. The only reason they were not all dead was death did not happen in Heaven. Yet here, emerging from the rags and shadows of the tent, was a vision of beauty which would have flattered any soiree in Heaven and indeed anywhere in history. The elegance of the robe and the classic signature of the hairpin were impeccable marks of power, but what really took the breath away was the simplicity and grace with which the woman wore them. It was she who gave these things their splendor, not the other way round. The moment before they had been rigid in confrontation with Magada. Now they were visibly distracted, their horses tossing their heads, dancing on the spot and a couple of them turning in tight circles. She put her hand on Magada's shoulder and spoke in a clear, commanding voice.
“Don't worry. We want no trouble. I am Pascale. My friend Palmiro is not here, I assure you, but I am more than willing to put myself at your disposal. This in fact is a wedding celebration, my own, and I invite you to join us. Drinks and cigars have just arrived and there is food for all. The only thing I ask is you do not disturb our company. They are guiltless in every way.”
Magada looked disgusted and shook her head, but she was out-maneuvered. She deferred reluctantly to Pascale, lowering the gun and retreating back toward the tent without taking her eyes from the horsemen. She didn't have to worry. Their attention was now fully on Pascale. The rider who had spoken couldn't quite understand what he was seeing and he glanced uncertainly at his companions. Finally he recovered his voice.
“Am I to understand you are surrendering to our custody?”
“Yes, certainly. And may I ask with whom I am speaking?”
“Ahh, yes... The name is Stavros. But you, you are actually getting married? Here?
“Yes, pl
ease forgive me, I did not introduce my groom, Jonas. You may know him.” And she turned and beckoned to the tent. Jonas came out and stood beside Pascale and once more the riders were floored. They were well acquainted with the mild-mannered Historian.
“Hello, gentlemen, I'm sure you recognize me. This is a very happy day, so, please, do come join us, share in this wonderful feast!”
Stavros and the rest of the agents were quite seriously disorientated. They had no clear idea of how to proceed. A full-scale rebellion seemed to have occurred at the Ranch, and they were somehow watching its aftermath, but the most urgent task was to catch up with Palmiro. He was implicated in the worst outrage Heaven had ever known, the deadly infection of some of its citizens, and there was a good possibility he was also implicated with what was happening here. At the same time there were two obviously A-list Immortals in front of them, Jonas and Pascale herself. Seeing her this way it was impossible to deny it. They needed to question her but all the customs of Heaven pushed against any brutal treatment of a goddess. Perhaps the best path would be to accept the invitation and continue seeking information as they could. After all she had surrendered to their custody and she was the best link to Palmiro. Stavros turned to his men and offered this as a plan. They nodded ready agreement, muttering that the refreshments would be welcome; but they should just watch their backs for the gun-toting Magada. Stavros turned to Pascale and Jonas. “We accept your invitation. We will also look around.”
He and another rider dismounted, handing their reins to the others who took the horses and wheeled about, setting off to scout the area. The afternoon shadow had now engulfed most of the canyon floor, reaching almost to the opposite wall. It was possible to see well enough but the contrast between the muted interior and the bright canyon face made it hard to focus. Magada had moved in behind Danny and as Stavros and his companion dismounted she whispered fiercely. “You gotta get out of here now. If they find out who you are they'll take you too.”
Pascale's Wager: Homelands of Heaven Page 47
