Collected Stories (4.1)

by R. Chetwynd-Hayes

  ‘Caroline, you’ve been asking questions again.’

  She was frightened when he spoke this way—and for good reason; she paused and looked at his stern face with wide open, fear-glazed eyes, and the man shuddered.

  ‘I only wanted to know.’

  ‘If you ask such questions again, I shall beat you. Be grateful that there are two people who are willing to feed and keep you in comfort. Give praise to Almighty Jehovah that He has in His great mercy, spared you the terror of His wrath. Seek not knowledge, revel in ignorance, for that is Jehovah’s gift to sinful man.’

  ‘All praise to Jehovah,’ she muttered the conventional phrase. ‘I promise to sin no more.’

  ‘Tis well.’ He rose slowly, a man worn and tired by a lifetime of fear. ‘I do not wish to hear of questions again.’ He walked to the door, then looked back, his hand on the door knob. ‘Do not make us regret what we have done.’

  ‘No, Uncle,’ she answered, grateful that he was leaving, her mind now a vast, trembling question.

  Next day they moved her into a new room, well back from the street, and the window was veiled by a thick gauze curtain which was tacked to the window frame on all sides so she could not pull it aside. But Satan Atomo entered her heart and whispered that a small hole could be made in the centre; not large enough for the Aunt to detect, for she was somewhat shortsighted, but sufficient for one young eye to peep out—to see the small garden, and what lay beyond the far wall.

  There was a house on the left, and a fairly large garden that ran obliquely to Uncle Carl’s; complete with a dark green lawn and bordered by white flower beds. Caroline liked this view better than the old one, for the street was only a mud-churned track, with the crop fields on the other side, and the ever-smoking bad lands in the far distance. A range of tall hills shut off whatever lay beyond on this side, and the scene was restful, at the same time exciting, for one could hope for something new to come over the hills, and Caroline lived on hope.

  She had been in the new room three days when the young man appeared in the far garden. He was not the first young man she had seen, for many had passed along the street, but he was the first she had been able to study for any length of time. He erected a garden chair, then seated himself and stretched out his long legs, clearly determined to absorb as much of the sunlight as he could before moon rising. He was, she decided, a most handsome young man, and there was an unaccountable quickening of her heart beat when he stripped of his tunic and bared his torso. A man minus his clothes was a phenomenon she had never considered; in fact any human being undressed had been, to that moment, an impossibility. Aunt Mabs always made her bath in the dark, maintaining it was sinful to see even one’s own naked flesh, and Caroline jerked back from the window like a frightened bird, and took refuge on her bed.

  It stood to reason that Jehovah must have noted this sinful act, and was without doubt preparing to bring down His wrath upon the not-to-be-thought-of young man, not to mention the equally evil girl who now trembled on her bed. She waited for the thunder clap, the bellow of divine rage, and was strangely disappointed when it did not come. The hours passed, then Aunt Mabs brought in her supper, glancing at the girl with her usual worried expression that deepened when she saw the white face and troubled eye.

  ‘What have you been up to?’

  Caroline knew she should confess and risk a beating, but logic suggested that if Almighty Jehovah had withheld His hand, it would be blasphemous for Uncle Carl to wield his belt. So she said:

  ‘Nothing, Gracious Aunt, only I feel a little unwell.’

  The woman grunted and there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

  ‘Then you must get to bed so soon as moonrising prayers are over. Pray for forgiveness, and thank Almighty Jehovah that he has spared you from his wrath.’

  As Caroline muttered ‘Amen’, she wondered for one panic-stricken moment if Aunt Mabs knew, but on reflection decided she was only referring to the perpetual wrath that the Almighty only just restrained Himself from pouring down upon her own sinful person.

  Aunt Mabs left the room to prepare herself for the nightly moonrising prayers, and Caroline quickly ate her yeast cutlet and nut roast, before moving fearfully towards the window, for it was necessary that everyone witness the moonrising so as to remember the sins of the forefathers.

  The young man was still there, but now, thankfully, fully clothed, and with him were two older people, a man and woman, clearly his Uncle and Aunt. They were kneeling on small, dark red cushions, gazing intently at the distant hills, from behind which the moon would soon rise. Uncle Carl and Aunt Mabs came out into their small garden and knelt on identical cushions, and Caroline knelt on her chair, her eye sinfully glued to the hole in her curtain.

  The familiar rumble began, and the earth trembled; the three people in the far garden prostrated themselves, for this was Almighty Jehovah’s voice, growling out his rage, bidding them all to remember—to remember; renewing His covenant made to man after the great sin, that He would punish and destroy, unless all tremble as the earth trembled, for He was a jealous God, a terrible God, an everlastingly angry God.

  The moon slid up from behind the hills; its face was grey, speckled with bright pimples of light where the sun was refleeted on its mountain peaks, and it was vast. It reared up with fearsome speed, filling the entire western sky, and the earth shook with fear, the house quivered, the sacred ornaments on Caroline’s mantlepiece danced a reel of terror, and Almighty Jehovah blew, and a great wind tore across the fields, over the roof tops, tearing, ripping, alive with the god’s lust to destroy. The moon was now high up in the heavens, and Caroline, try as she might, could not lower her head; she saw the vast craters, the towering mountains that seemed to be reaching down in an attempt to tear open the sinful flesh of earth. This was the crisis, the one moment when the angry God might decide to make an end; to surrender completely to His all-consuming rage and let the moon fall down upon the world. The moon was now covering the entire sky, the earth was cloaked in darkness, broken only by a halo of light that ran round the satellite’s rim. Then came the rebirth of hope, a faint glimmer of light in the western sky, that grew larger by the second, became a crescent of cold blue, and presently developed into a patch of unclouded sky. The moon was passing away; it would race out into the heavens, become a speck of light, until drawn back by Almighty the following night. For twenty-four hours man was safe.

  2

  The sin in Caroline’s heart became a canker, and Satan Atomo, no doubt gloating over his conquest, made sure temptation was always before her. The young man seemed to live in the garden. He hoed the black earth that glowered beneath the linen-white flowers, he trimmed the dark green grass with a scythe, and all the time his naked brown back screamed its untranslatable message to Caroline, so that her mind became a hothouse of searing, forbidden thoughts. She kept away from the window for as long as she could, walked round and round the room, and prayed silently to Almighty Jehovah for forgiveness, but always, whenever her attention flagged, she came back to that fatal hole in the curtain.

  It was inevitable that her guilty secret would be discovered.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Aunt Mabs was standing behind her, and Caroline spun round, her eyes dilated with terror. Aunt Mabs pushed her roughly to one side, then peeped through the gaping hole herself. When she turned round her face was unexpectedly sad.

  ‘How long has this been going on?’ she asked.

  ‘For a long time,’ Caroline answered, for to lie was to bring down Jehovah’s certain wrath.

  ‘I see,’ the woman nodded slowly. ‘Why do you watch him?’

  Caroline thought carefully, then answered:

  ‘Because he is beautiful.’

  Aunt Mabs nodded again, then said: ‘Beautiful’ before leaving the room.

  Caroline waited—waited for hours. She would be beaten, of that there was no doubt, but why had Jehovah not chastised her Himself long since. Could it be Uncle Carl was to be His instrum
ent, because the God’s time was fully occupied in punishing the world?

  Uncle Carl brought up her supper tray as usual, and under his arm he carried a large book. Caroline recognized it as the Book, written by the holy Elijah Ebenezer Brown, as dictated to him by Almighty Jehovah Himself in the year One. The Uncle did not speak, but made a gesture denoting she was to eat her supper, and sat silently staring at the carpet, only looking up when she pushed the plate to one side.

  ‘You can read your letters?’

  ‘Yes, Uncle, the gracious Aunt taught me to read.’

  ‘That is well.’ He handed her the Book. ‘Open it—to the first page.’

  Caroline turned the hard cover, it was old and possibly had once encased another book.

  ‘Read,’ commanded the Uncle.

  ‘THE WORD OF JEHOVAH AS WRITTEN BY THE HOLY ELIJAH EBENEZER BROWN WHILST IN THE SPIRIT.’

  ‘And!’ Uncle Carl’s voice was low.

  ‘JEHOVAH CREATED HE MAN IN HIS OWN IMAGE.’

  ‘Close the book and give it to me.’

  Caroline obeyed, knowing this was not going to be something simple like a thrashing; this would be worse, much worse.

  ‘Jehovah created He man in His own image,’ Uncle Carl repeated the text, and Caroline remembered seeing the blazing letters printed on a banner, carried by the children on their way to Sabbath school, ‘and because Almighty Jehovah is beautiful Himself, then all men must be beautiful also.’ His cold eyes switched their gaze from the bedside rug, and stared straight at the girl.

  ‘You thought the young man beautiful?’

  ‘Yes, gracious Uncle, and I sinned.’

  The Uncle raised his hand.

  ‘You did not sin in that, for it is good that one gaze upon the beauty that Jehovah has created. Your sin is a far greater one.’

  Caroline trembled and waited for the enormity of her transgressions to be revealed.

  ‘Your sin is that of ugliness. Listen to me, and I will read the holy word.’

  Uncle Carl opened the good book, and began to read slowly, raising his voice in the traditional style, so his words were full and sonorous.

  ‘In the beginning Almighty Jehovah gave the world to man as his playground. The entire earth was his, and the fruits thereof, the sea, and that which lived therein; the air above in which he might besport himself, and next to the Almighty, man was the lord of creation.’

  ‘So great was Jehovah’s love he gave gifts beyond price; the ability to speak over large distances, chariots that raced faster than the wind, magic wings that took man above the earth, and the power to hunt under the sea. And the children of man dwelt in fine houses, were clad in soft linen; white bread lay daily upon their tables, and Jehovah spoke to them every seventh day. And he spake thus:’

  “All that is upon the earth is yours, but all that is in the heavens is mine.”

  ‘Now it came to pass that Satan Atomo walked the earth in those days, and he whispered into the ears of men: “Why should you not go out into the heavens? The moon is bright, the stars are diamonds beyond price; go forth, and I will protect you.”

  ‘And men made strange chariots and they went forth into the heavens, and Jehovah struck out in his anger. He blazed fire and brimstone upon the earth, and He ate up the great houses, the chariots, the magic wings, and many men died, even unto three parts of men died.

  ‘Then the daughters of men, in their fear, took unto themselves the sons of Satan Atomo, and they did bring forth monsters.

  ‘And Jehovah brought down the moon, and it hovered over the earth, and His voice spoke from a thunder cloud. ‘Ye shall destroy all that is not born in my image.’

  ‘And all those that still followed in the ways of the Godly obeyed this commandment. They took the ugly, the monster-born, and burnt them on the altar, and behold the smoke of the burning was good unto the Almighty, and He did withhold His hand, and the moon fell not onto the earth, and some men lived.’

  Uncle Carl slammed the book closed with such force, Caroline jumped, then he spoke in the same awesome tone.

  ‘A thousand summers have passed, and rarely are monsters born, but when they are, the people take them into the temple and burn them upon the altar.’

  Caroline at first did not understand, then the man’s cold, expressionless stare relayed its message, and she whimpered:

  ‘I’m not a monster.’

  ‘Child, can you not see?’ The Uncle snapped out the question. ‘Put out your hand. Now I will lay mine alongside. Look. Mine is shaped by the Almighty, yours... Do not force me to describe what your eyes must see. Look at my face, then feel your own, the skin—the monstrous growth that covers your head. Can’t you understand that I feel sick in your presence, and I have gazed upon you for nigh on sixteen years. Think how that young man would react were he to see you as you are. He would hand you over to the temple elders for burning, as indeed I should have long since.’

  Caroline looked at the horror that was her hands with new eyes; the difference she had always known, and accepted. Now truth had been savagely thrust through the doors of her consciousness, and her body screamed with repulsion. She was more than ugly, more than hideous —she was the monster-born. A blot that should be wiped away, a loathsome fragment fit only for burning.

  ‘Why,’ she sobbed, ‘why did you not hand me over at birth?’

  ‘Our sin was great,’ the Uncle nodded, and a tear ran down his otherwise expressionless face, ‘but my sister was young, and much loved. She hid you until it was too late. If I had given you up, they would have taken her also, and my foolish, soft love overcame my sacred duty. We have lived in fear all these years, your Aunt and I. We felt that as Almighty Jehovah had withheld His hand, perhaps He understood, but who can calculate His mysterious ways? He struck down your mother, He burnt your father with a thunderflash, and we— and you, He has spared. But I dread lest you be seen.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ Caroline sat with lowered head, ‘my sin is great,’ but the tired man shook his head.

  ‘No, child, the sin is mine. I should have handed you over for burning, and you would not be suffering now.’

  He took up the book, and left without uttering a further word.

  3

  Caroline opened her door and crept out onto the landing. The house slept; the world—Jehovah slept, for the silence was absolute. She trod softly down the stairs, tip-toed along the hall and opened the front door.

  Outside the sky was a dark blue roof, pinpointed with stars, and she was afraid, for there was so much emptiness, no comforting walls, and the night breeze was an evil thing that tore at her robe. Only the great urge stopped her from rushing back into the house, for she must go out into the wild lands; to die perhaps, but it would be a clean death, and no harm would come to the Uncle and Aunt.

  The rough road was cruel to her bare feet, and the starlit gloom was alive with gibbering shadows that mocked and tried vainly with voiceless mouths to shout her presence aloud. She passed houses, all built of wood and painted black, so that Jehovah might not see them, but of course He did; one had been shaken down. Only the temple was built of stone. Jehovah’s statue stood a little way to the right; thirty feet tall, the work of three generations. His stern face looked upwards, gazing with sightless eyes at the stars; in His right hand He held a seven-thonged flail, and in His left a forked thunder-flash. On the base was etched the familiar words:

  JEHOVAH CREATED HE MAN IN HIS OWN IMAGE.

  Caroline fled from the temple, fled from the presence of dread Jehovah, and ran past the last few houses, until she came within sight of the open wild lands that stretched out great arms to greet her. She did not know about the night watch, the two men who prowled the village limits, ever alert lest some raiding party from afar should suddenly strike. They came out of the shadows and shouted:

  ‘Who are you? Stop.’

  Caroline turned on her tracks and ran, and the hard pounding of booted feet came after her. She darted between two houses, stumbled acr
oss a cultivated back garden, tore her gown clambering through a low hedge. But now doors were opening, people were pouring out; she ran into a man when turning a corner, and he saw her face.

  ‘Monster—a monster!’

  He clutched her gown and it ripped as she broke away, and the cry was relayed from mouth to mouth, until the earth—the very heavens—were screaming the dreadful word:

  ‘Monster—monster!’

  She had never run before in her life, never before walked on bare earth, and her strength was soon exhausted. Somehow, she had come back into the main street, and there was Jehovah, standing before His temple, staring up at the stars, and judging the world. She collapsed at His feet, and looked up at His stone face.

  ‘Mercy, Almighty, mercy on me—a monster.’

  But the face was pitiless, the great flail was poised above her, and the pursuers, many with lighted torches, were closing in, and there was no hope anywhere, either on the earth, in the badlands, or in the stars.

  They pulled her roughly to her feet, ripped the tattered gown from her body, and their faces became twisted with disgust when the malformed shape was revealed.

  ‘Where did you come from?’ a watchman struck her across the face, ‘who’s been hiding you?’

  That was a question that must not be answered, and she tried not to scream when they punched her stomach, kicked her and flung her to the ground.

  The temple Elders were gaunt from much fasting, and one had a large pin driven through his cheeks, and the crowd drew back, for he was very holy. His voice was muffled, as the pin stopped his tongue from functioning naturally, and his face was like Jehovah’s, as though it, too, were hewn from stone.

  ‘Cease. No one in the village would dare harbour her. If they had, we would have been smitten long since.’

  Caroline marvelled, and looked up again at the stone God.

  ‘She has come in from the badlands, a gift from Jehovah, so that we might sacrifice. Bring her into the temple, and let us give praise.’