Judith

by Nicholas Mosley

  In this strange wood there were bits of wool like knitting hung from the trees. I thought – Yes, but if women become gentle, authoritative, will there be networks like spiders’ webs, like notations for music, hung from trees?

  – Hullo, hullo, do you hear me?

  In story-books things happen by chance, do they not?

  In a further clearing of the forest there was a horse. The horse was standing with its reins hanging down. I thought – There was that figure riding on the edge of the battle-area?

  Did not Lilia say that Eleanor had her horse?

  At the back of the clearing in the forest was a Nissen-type hut with the door off its hinges. In the middle of the clearing there was the remains of a fire. The horse was standing by the fire with its reins hanging down. Eleanor was lying on the ground beside the horse.

  I thought – Well, why should it in fact be more unusual that one set of things should happen rather than another?

  Eleanor was lying on her back with her hands folded. She wore a long dress of rough material the colour of earth. I thought – Come on, where is that ring of fire!

  Lilith used to lie on her rock? Brunnhilde was asleep for – what? – more than seven years!

  I remember saying to you once – Don’t you think it is ridiculous how travellers in novels of the eighteenth century keep on bumping into one another? and you said – Perhaps it was because there were so few travellers in the eighteenth century.

  Do you think there are so few travellers in this dimension now?

  Eleanor was this elderly lady with a pudding-basin haircut. I knew, yes, it was her custom to travel round on a horse. I knew she had been intending to visit the camp of the women. You see, I am on my guard: it is counter-productive to talk of luck?

  I said to the Professor today – What is chance? He said – Chance is what you have techniques to observe but not to explain. I said – Such as what goes on in an atom. He said – Oh, for goodness’ sake, an atom!

  I sat on the fallen trunk of a tree some distance from Eleanor. If there is unheard music, and time has to pass – we can walk across a stage and sit upon ruined pillars?

  Eleanor lay as if on a tomb. I thought – And a tree, I suppose, might grow out of her middle!

  The Professor has been in some pain today. It was Eleanor who taught me to press upwards and outwards with my hands: to feel for the stone within the tree: to say – Is it here? Is it here?

  We separate the earth from the firmament – in seven days: in seven years?

  When Eleanor woke – old people, unlike children, wake as if they had never been away – she put out a hand as if to feel that her horse was there: she took hold of its bridle; the horse raised its head, and Eleanor was lifted by this into a sitting position. She said ‘Hullo.’ I said ‘Hullo.’ She said ‘What’s up?’ I said ‘I don’t know.’ She said ‘I’m not surprised.’

  Eleanor had these bright-blue eyes in a nut-brown face. She must have been in her seventies at this time. She journeyed on her horse: she used to pop up here and there like someone in a mediaeval tapestry. (You thought I was going to say a fun-fair shooting-range?) One got the impression from her of a unicorn round some corner.

  I said ‘Lilia’s lost her child. We thought he might be with you. Lilia’s holed up with some official. Bert’s got a story about a bomb being planted in the battle-area.’

  Eleanor said ‘How’s Max?’

  I said ‘He’s not too bad.’

  ‘Is the pain any better?’

  ‘Yes, I think it’s better.’

  The horse kept on pulling at Eleanor’s arm as she held the bridle, so that her arm worked up and down like a pump. I said ‘And Bert got picked up by a helicopter.’

  She said ‘He’d like that.’

  I said ‘Yes. He’d climbed to the top of the façade of that building. I expect the helicopter belongs to his film company.’

  She said ‘Bert likes to feel omnipotent.’

  When one talks with Eleanor there is often the impression of topics coming to an end: as if anything further would be over the edge of the paper.

  I said ‘I thought we should look for the child.’

  She said ‘Yes let’s.’

  I said ‘He wasn’t with you?’

  Eleanor said ‘No. But he might have been with me.’ I thought – You know the code; should you not know the message?

  I said ‘Where do you think he could have gone? He was on his bicycle.’

  ‘You think he might have gone in to the battle-area?’ I said ‘Why?’

  She said ‘You’re anxious about this bomb.’

  I said ‘Bert used to tell him stories. He used to go there. When they were staying in the cottage.’

  ‘Yes.’

  I thought I might say – Why are you smiling?

  She said ‘Today would be a good day to go. Everyone will be out and around the airbase.’

  I thought I might say – You know about the bomb?

  I said ‘Bert says they’ve got hold of this radioactive material.’

  She said ‘Why does he say that?’

  I could not make out why, with the horse pulling so hard at Eleanor’s arm, she did not stand up.

  I said ‘We must do something.’

  She said ‘Yes.’ Then – ‘I’m afraid I’ve sprained my ankle.’

  I said ‘Oh, I see.’

  She said ‘That’s all right.’

  I thought I might say – I can’t live like this! I might stamp my foot on the ground and cry.

  Eleanor said ‘You could go on the horse, but I don’t think he would leave me.’

  I said ‘I can’t leave you!’

  Eleanor said to the horse ‘Will you go with this lady?’

  The horse jerked its head so that the reins were pulled out of Eleanor’s hand: it moved and stood at some distance.

  Eleanor said ‘What we need is some form of transport.’

  She tried to get to her feet. I put a hand under her arm and lifted her.

  There was the sound of a car, or lorry, coming through the forest: it was in low gear, grinding, querulous. I thought – It will be some monster, I suppose, that she has called up out of her head. Then – You do see, it is difficult to be like this. Eleanor seemed to be trying not to notice the noise. I thought – You make your mind a blank, then your number comes up on the wheel: but how with your mind do you make your mind a blank? And so on. Eleanor and I stood, arm in arm, with the horse drooping its head somewhere behind us. I thought – We are like a painting – of English country life in the eighteenth century.

  It was a van, or minibus, that was coming through the wood: its windscreen was tinted so that one could not see inside. Eleanor said ‘Or we could go to the cottage: he might have gone there.’ I thought – What do you mean, we could go to the cottage? there is this frightful van or minibus coming through the wood: it is summoned up by witches.

  The van, or minibus, came into the clearing and stopped. It was like an animal with antennae instead of eyes watching us.

  I thought – You are supposed to wait, aren’t you, till you see the whites of its eyes.

  After a time the driver’s door opened but no one got out. I thought – An object from outer space might look like a minibus in a forest?

  Eleanor put a hand to her mouth as if she were laughing.

  From the driving compartment a figure eventually emerged; it wore a khaki track-suit or battledress; it had a balaclava helmet over its head. It was difficult to tell whether it was a man or a woman.

  The figure watched us. I thought – All right, Eleanor, now carry on with your manipulation of spirits!

  The figure made a gesture towards us; it seemed to be telling us to go away. Or to come towards it. What do you do: smile and nod: offer it some sugar?

  Two more people got out of the back of the van: one wore a balaclava helmet, and the other had a woollen cap and a huge profile that looked like a mask. It was difficult to tell whether they were men o
r women.

  The first figure came towards us and made a gesture as if for us to go to the van. It still did not speak. This figure had a strange white face as if it were powdered; or as if it were an albino Negro.

  Eleanor said ‘What do you want?’ Then – ‘Can we help you?’

  The figure took hold of Eleanor by the arm. The other two were getting something out of the back of the van: it was a stretcher on which was an object covered by a blanket. The object did not seem to be a body because it had no head nor legs. From underneath the blanket a piece of plastic hung down. I thought – This is nothing: not even ridiculous.

  Eleanor was saying to the figure like an albino. ‘You want us to get into the van.’ Then – ‘I’ve sprained my ankle.’

  Myself and the figure helped Eleanor towards the van. The other two had gone with the stretcher into the Nissentype hut with the door off its hinges. They came out without the stretcher: they tried to close the door. Eleanor said ‘I did it when I was getting off my horse.’

  None of the figures had spoken. The two from the hut had come to the van and we all helped Eleanor into the back. I thought – She is treating this as if it were an ambulance?

  – But don’t be taken in by this: it really might be an ambulance!

  I said ‘What about the horse?’ Eleanor said ‘What about the horse?’ Then – ‘These people seem to be giving us a lift.’ In the back of the van there was a bench along either side and a small window through to the front. The side windows were boarded up. I thought – You know what you’re doing? Will anyone, ever again, know what they are doing?

  Then – These people are not speaking because they do not want us to recognise their voices? You mean, they might have guns?

  I had begun to move away from the van towards the horse. The figure with the white face and the balaclava helmet came after me and took hold of my arm. I had the impression that it was a woman. Eleanor called to her ‘You don’t want us to have seen you?’ Then – ‘Indeed, it’s not as if we have seen you!’

  I thought – You mean, you think we might get away with this?

  The woman with the white face led me back to the van. Eleanor was sitting on one of the benches in the back. She said ‘The horse will find its own way.’

  I got into the van and sat on the bench opposite. I thought – You think we will find our own way?

  The other two figures had climbed into the van: the one with the white face shut the back doors. The second figure with a balaclava helmet sat between Eleanor and the door: he or she seemed to have a beard. The one with a profile like a mask sat between me and the door. I thought – Her face might be made of rubber; you pull it off, and there might be the same face underneath.

  Eleanor said ‘This was always happening to St Theresa.’

  I said ‘What was?’

  She said ‘Being picked up and taken somewhere and put down where she hadn’t known she wanted to go.’

  The van moved off. The ground was bumpy. We clung to the edges of our seats.

  I thought – You mean, this is some experiment? There are people in white coats watching switches and dials?

  – This is what people think who are mad?

  – But if this is happening, who is or is not mad?

  Eleanor had closed her eyes. I thought – She is meditating?

  She is in pain?

  The van went over stony ground.

  I thought – But might we not be like those people who just lined up on a platform to be shot?

  Eleanor opened her eyes and smiled at me.

  I said ‘But letting things happen like this, mightn’t it be like all those people who lined up on a platform?’

  She said ‘Well, for one thing, they did have an extraordinary effect.’

  I said ‘What?’

  She said ‘They altered the world.’

  I said ‘But they died.’

  She said ‘But the people who killed them were obliterated.’

  The van went over a bump and the person with a profile like a mask hit her or his head against the roof. I thought – But I don’t want to die!

  Or – You mean, there was some resurrection?

  The van was going through the wood. We could not see out of the windows. We were being shaken about like dice.

  Eleanor said ‘What no one knows is what would have happened if those people had seen what was happening.’

  I thought – You think we see what is happening?

  Then – But, of course, if one sees, one doesn’t know the outcome of an experiment.

  Eleanor said ‘Some survived.’

  The van seemed to get on to a road, or at least to where the ground was smoother. Eleanor leaned back and closed her eyes.

  I thought I might say – You mean there are coincidences?

  Eleanor would say – Yes, there are coincidences.

  I could say – But you can’t say – Some survived!

  The van travelled smoothly for a time. The figure with a face like a mask held its head. The figure with a beard tried to rearrange the opening of its balaclava helmet. I thought – Perhaps they will take their heads right off, and have a look, and there will be those sticks going up inside.

  I tried to make my mind go blank. How, even now, does one make one’s mind go blank? Memories come in like the battle between the Lapiths and the Centaurs.

  I thought – But there, outside the picture, are couples watching, in the gallery; their arms round each other’s shoulders.

  The van went off the road again. The figure with a mask hit its head again against the roof. The figure with a beard got up to help; he or she was bounced violently from side to side. I thought – Oh well, we are now inside this picture, we are agents being bashed about in occupied territory.

  Eleanor said ‘Have you ever done any of his experiments with dice?’

  I said ‘The Professor’s? No, I never have.’

  I thought – You mean, the one where you think you can influence the dice if you empty your mind of any thought that you can influence the dice –

  She said ‘But you know the one I mean –’

  I thought – Here, what is happening is so empty that mutations might have a chance?

  We seemed to be going across rolling countryside – the hills of Java perhaps, where some sort of consciousness had been born. I thought – If one emptied one’s mind of thoughts, of plans, of memories, would there be figures in the clouds, reclining on one arm, looking down as if on a green baize table?

  I said ‘You know those skulls of primitive humans or pre-humans which had had holes knocked in the bottom of them in order to get out the brains so people could eat them?’

  Eleanor said ‘Yes.’

  I said ‘But they had holes in the bottom anyway for the spinal column to go up, so why did people want to knock another hole?’

  Eleanor said ‘Perhaps they thought they had to have two to get the brains out whole.’ She laughed.

  When Eleanor laughed her whole face lit up as if Catherine wheels were going round.

  The van swerved so violently that this time it seemed about to overturn. I was thrown across and had to hold myself off the opposite wall with my arms on either side of Eleanor: we seemed to be saying hullo or good-bye. The figure with a mask had a knee in the groin of the person with a beard. The van seemed to have hit a rock, or the stump of a tree. It had stopped. There was the clatter of a helicopter overhead.

  I thought – We are about to be rescued? To be shot? To be rolled out on to some strange planet like dice?

  From the front of the van there was the whirring noise of the starter not working. The person with a mask was trying to open the back door of the van which had stuck. There was a smell of steam and scorching.

  I said to Eleanor ‘Are you all right?’

  She said ‘Yes, I’m all right.’

  I thought – You can’t mean, simply, that these people will destroy themselves?

  The woman who was the driver had co
me round and was pulling at the back doors of the van. The person with a beard kicked at the doors. They opened and caught the driver in the face. I thought – You are overdoing this!

  The person with the beard scrambled out of the back of the van and started running towards a wood.

  The driver shouted – ‘Come back!’

  She was holding her nose. I thought – But I wouldn’t anyway have recognised the accent.

  It seemed that what had happened was that the van had turned off a track which went over rolling countryside and had tried to get under the cover of a wood: this had probably been in order to get away from the helicopter. There the van had hit a fallen stump or log, and there had been damage to the bottom of the engine.

  The helicopter was flying overhead – then just around some corner.

  The person with a beard had stopped at the edge of the wood. The driver who was like an albino was helping the figure with the face like a mask to get out.

  Eleanor said to them ‘Go quickly!’

  The helicopter was coming round again. I thought – Perhaps it is Bert: or that wild-haired girl with a sword above a battlefield.

  The two remaining figures began to run, stumbling, towards the wood.

  Eleanor and I were left in the back of the van.

  I thought – Well here we are, when the sun comes up –

  – En plein! Bingo!

  I said ‘But I know this place!’

  Eleanor said ‘Yes.’

  I said ‘I used to come here!’

  Eleanor said ‘He used to come here, too.’

  I thought – You mean, all this time, we have been looking for the child?

  The helicopter went on over the tops of trees.

  Beyond us, where the van had turned off into the wood, there was a wide stretch of open grassland, bumped and pitted as if with shell-holes. Part of it, at the top of a slope, was enclosed within a wire fence – as so often in this empty countryside. There was a wooden hut within this enclosure. This was one of the places, sometimes a tourist attraction, where primitive men had dug for flints.

  I said ‘I’m lost.’

  Eleanor said ‘I thought you knew where you were.’

  I said ‘I mean – I don’t know what I mean.’