‘Nay, lord, why should a man mind being told he’s got noble blood in him? And besides, a lot of them as called me bastard have found out the hard way they were only telling the truth.’
Now the ripple of amusement turned into a wave of laughter.
Even Aeneas smiled as he said, ‘So, Nothos, now we know who you are, and what you are, pray tell us how you come to be here?’
The fat man rolled his eyes piously upwards and said, ‘By heavenly grace and your lordship’s equally divine mercy. Three days past, I set out with my fellows to fish, but the buggers weren’t running, and my mates soon headed off home, saying they might as well be sitting around playing with their wives by their own hearths as playing with themselves out here on the rocking sea. Me, though, I don’t give up so easy. If the fish weren’t here, they had to be elsewhere, so I let the wind and current take me further and further from our usual fishing grounds. Then it started getting dark, and the sea got right gurly, and I thought, Nothos, my lad, it’s time you were home. Only which way was home? And any road, it made no matter, ’cos I didn’t have choice of which way I would go. For there was a storm blowing up and no ordinary storm either. No, this was one of them storms the gods send when they’ve really got it in for some poor sod. Well, I knew it weren’t me. I mean, what business would the gods have with a poor fisherman? No, it had to be someone a lot more important. Here, come to think of it, lord, could it have been you? You haven’t been getting up old Poseidon’s nose, have you? Or one of your followers, mebbe?’
‘We try to give all the gods their due worship, ‘ said Aeneas coldly. ‘You, on the other hand, according to Captain Achates, were uttering fearsome blasphemies against the lord of the sea after you were cast up on the beach.’
Nothos looked abashed.
‘Aye, well, mebbe I did get a bit carried away. But not without cause, lord. There was I, a poor fisherman going about my trade, and suddenly I’m in the middle of someone else’s storm, being driven along God knows where, for the best part of three days, I reckon. Then finally my boat hits a rock and down it goes, and that’s my living gone with it, you understand, just about everything I own in the world. Down deep, I went, so deep I thought I’d be bound to run into the old bugger, and if I had, I tell you, I’d have been tempted to do more than shake a fist at him! But you’re right, no use fighting with the gods, eh? And I must have done something to please one of them at least, for I didn’t drown, but up I came again, and managed to stay afloat I can’t tell how long, till finally I got cast up here on this land. For which I give thanks, and especially for falling into the hands of such a generous and noble lord as your good self, followed, as you’d expect, by such a splendid bunch of fighting men.’
He finished and lowered his gaze, his body sagging as if with fatigue, but under his bushy eyebrows his keen eyes were regarding the Trojan shrewdly to see what effect his story had had.
‘So,’ said Aeneas. ‘You have said much to make us pity you. On the other hand, though low and ignorant, there’s no denying that you are one of our sworn foes.’
‘Nay, lord, I’ll admit to low and ignorant, but as for the other, here’s one who’ll deny it. I’ve sworn to nowt about you lot. I’ve never heard owt about you but good, nor do I wish you any harm, and I’ll swear to that here and now, if you like. Great lords like yourself decide what lowly folk like me do and are. You say I’m your foe and that’s got to be true. But if you say I’m your friend, why, that’s just as true, isn’t it?’
‘It is not for me alone to judge you, fellow,’ said Aeneas sternly. ‘Where the fate of all is involved, a leader must also be a democrat. You know the word? It is one of yours.’
‘Aye, I know it,’ said Nothos unenthusiastically. ‘Comes between horse thief and sheep-shagger back home.’
‘Indeed? Such a primitive society yours must be. So, men, what do you say? Shall we show mercy here, or shall we make this one Greek pay for the crimes of all his fellows?’
‘I say, let’s take him back up the headland and toss him back into the sea,’ said Achates. ‘There’s something about him I don’t like the look of.’
There was a loud murmur of agreement among the listening men which did not bode well for a democratic vote.
‘Hey, come on,’ protested the Greek to the captain. ‘If you’re going to start chucking folk off cliffs just for the way they look, I reckon I’ll get a soft landing ’cos I’ll be landing on thee!’
Some of the men laughed at this till Achates turned his craggy, unreadable face towards them.
‘One for death,’ said Aeneas. ‘Anyone else? Palinurus?’
A slim young man stepped forward and said, ‘Lord, even though I can now see the moon and the stars, I cannot look at my charts and tell exactly where we are. If this Greek has any knowledge of this island’s location and of its waters, their reefs and rocks and channels and shallows, he could be of use to us.’
‘Well, fisherman?’
Nothos scratched his chin through the tangles of his beard, producing a sound like saw teeth digging into a forest oak.
‘I won’t lie to you,’ he said. ‘I’ve not been to this place afore, but if it’s where I think it is, I’ve heard tell of it from some of the old men back home, and you know how these old buggers go over the same thing again and again till you could just about join in with them. So yes, I reckon I could navigate you safe back to Orkhis or wherever you’re bound for. If you’ve got ships safely harboured, that is?’
‘That is for us to know,’ said Aeneas before Palinurus could reply. ‘Right, Greek, for the time being, we’ll spare you… Why do you smile?’
‘Nothing, lord. Except I were thinking, if I’d known this is how democracy works, I’d mebbe have joined long since.’
Their gazes met for a moment, then the Greek lowered his modestly and Aeneas continued, ‘If you prove useful to us in this matter, then we will land you somewhere as close to this island of yours as our voyage takes us. If not, then perhaps we’ll take another look at democracy. Now come with me. You must be in need of sleep after all your excitements.’
He stood up and led the way to the shelter by the boulder.
‘Keep guard by the exit, Achates,’ he said. ‘And if he shows his head without permission, chop it off.’
Inside the pavilion, a pair of oil lamps burned and by their amber light, the Greek saw that the shelter was bigger than appeared from outside, as the huge boulder was hollow to a depth of ten or twelve feet. The furthermost part of it had been turned into a separate chamber by a curtain of heavy bearskin, which was drawn aside now to let the old man, Anchises, come out.
Before the curtain fell again, Nothos glimpsed a figure lying on a makeshift bed with a woman sitting beside him, bathing his head with water from a silver bowl.
‘How is he?’ asked Aeneas.
The old man shrugged. His tongue said nothing but his face showed despair.
‘Go outside, Father,’ urged the Prince gently. ‘Take some food. I will join you shortly.’
With a glance of hatred at the Greek, Anchises obeyed.
‘Don’t think your old dad cares for me,’ said Nothos.
‘He has little reason to like Greeks,’ said Aeneas. ‘None of us has.’
‘Just as well I didn’t apply to him for mercy then, wasn’t it?’ said the Greek.
‘Indeed. What he might have replied I cannot imagine,’ said the Prince. ‘It’s a leader’s job to dwell in the world of reality, and leave imaginings to other men. That way, when the gods speak, he may hear with a pure ear. You on the other hand seem particularly blessed in that department.’
‘Ears, you mean?’
‘Imagination,’ said Aeneas. ‘In fact, you might like to try a little test. Would you object to a little test of your imagination, Nothos?’
‘Nay, I dearly love a game of riddles to pass the time after supper, lord. Ask away.’
‘Thank you,’ said Aeneas.
He paused a moment, his
narrow, fine-featured face still and serious in the amber lamplight, whose flickering flames made his deep-set eyes bright and shadowy by turn.
Then he leaned forward till his face was close to the other man’s and said earnestly, ‘Tell me then, what do you imagine the men out there would do to you if I went out and told them that I’d discovered you were the man they hated most in the whole world? If I told them that you were the treacherous and cunning bastard who gave Troy the gift of the wooden horse, what do you imagine they’d give to you, Odysseus?’
For a moment the big fat Greek’s face was as unreadable as the Carpathian bear who on a mountain track surprised by, and surprising, a Magyar hunter, rears his great bulk high and stands quite still with only his small questing eyes betraying the inner debate between flight and attack.
Then he leaned forward and said confidentially to the waiting prince, ‘I don’t suppose the answer’s a big wet kiss, is it?’
God-like, Ellie smiled at her own joke. Castaway Ellie smiled too as she looked into and out of Odysseus’s eyes on that remote island. Then the sound of a key turning in the front door reunited both Ellies and made all smiles stop together.
Her reason reminded her that the lock had been changed first thing that morning but somehow its reassurance couldn’t reach her stomach.
Then Pascoe’s voice called, ‘I’m home.’
Rosie heard it too and came rushing in from the garden, building up sufficient speed to take off and hit her father at solar plexus level as he came into the kitchen.
‘Jesus,’ he gasped, swinging her up high. ‘You keep tackling like that, I’ll get you a trial for the Bradford Bulls… what the hell is that?’
That was a noise like a rowing boat grounding on a shingle beach. It came from the small dog standing in the garden doorway, viewing Pascoe with the unmistakable message in its eyes, I can’t make up my mind which part of you to bite first.
‘This is Tig,’ said Rosie, sliding to the floor. ‘He’s come to live with us. Come and meet him. He’s a bit shy.’
She took her father’s hand and drew him towards the dog.
‘Tig, this is my dad. He lives here too only he has to be out a lot.’
The dog stopped growling, advanced a step, sniffed at Pascoe’s shoe, then turned to cock his leg. Ellie moved swiftly, scooping the animal up and dropping it over the threshold.
‘He’s really quite well house-trained,’ she said.
‘You mean like he’s really shy?’ said Pascoe, looking out at the dog which was still glowering at him.
‘He’ll be all right now he knows your smell,’ said Rosie confidently.
‘He’s good at recognizing the hot sweat of terror, is he?’ said Pascoe. ‘Talking of smells…’
He sniffed.
Ellie said, ‘Shit,’ and dived for the cooker.
‘Ah well,’ she said. ‘Chargrilled veg is all the thing. I’ll pour us a drink.’
‘Big ones. Tell me, is that beast what I think it is?’
Ellie nodded, signalling with her eyes that this might be a topic best left till Rosie went to bed.
But the girl said, ‘Wieldy was looking after him but he couldn’t keep him forever because Edwin doesn’t really like dogs and anyway, Wieldy’s like you, he’s got to be away from home such a lot it wouldn’t be fair. He used to belong to a little girl who had to go away like Zandra but Nina says she’d like me to help take care of him now.’
Zandra was her dead friend, Nina was her imaginary friend. Neither had been mentioned since the day they’d told her of Zandra’s death.
Pascoe said carefully, ‘Nina’s come back, has she?’
Rosie sighed the exasperated sigh of one required to state the obvious and said, ‘Yes, she had to come back to make sure that Tig was being taken care of, didn’t she?’
‘Of course. Sorry. Well, if Nina wants you to help take care of Tig, that’s the end of the matter. Tig, you’re most welcome.’
The dog regarded him with an expression an optimistic pacifist might have classified as neutral. Then Rosie ran past him down the garden and Tig went in pursuit, barking excitedly.
‘Don’t say anything till you’ve had your drink,’ said Ellie, handing him a glass.
He downed it in one and said, ‘So, do I need to murder Wield or buy him a bunch of flowers?’
‘If you mean, were we ambushed?, the answer’s no. The dog did the choosing and when Wieldy saw the way the wind was blowing, he was as usual impeccable. No pressure, very sensitive to all aspects of the situation. Edwin, however, I would rate in this regard as extremely peccable. And as I ducked out early on to visit Daphne, I wasn’t around to interpose my own body. So I suppose if anyone’s pecced, it’s me. Sorry.’
Pascoe poured himself another drink which he approached more decorously.
Then he sat down at the kitchen table and laughed.
‘What?’
‘First time I’ve come home in ages and not been dragged into a game of Black Bitch. That’s a big plus. And she’s more like she used to be than she has been since… she used to be it. If it takes a dog and the return of Nina, it’s a small price to pay. So, it’s been a good day?’
‘Yes, it has. Rosie had a great time. Me too, I think. Something else though…’
She told him about her visit to Rosemont and Daphne’s proposal.
‘So what do you think?’
Pascoe said, ‘What do you think?’
‘Well, great for Rosie and the dog. Nice to spend some time with Daph. Also I feel I owe her.’
‘Wouldn’t she drive you mad, ideologically speaking, I mean?’
‘There is that, but we’re both very long-suffering. Also I’d have an antidote on my doorstep. Feenie Macallum. Did you know the Aldermanns bought their cottage off her?’
‘No.’ Suddenly Pascoe looked alarmed. ‘Hey, this place isn’t about to fall into the sea, is it?’
‘Relax. It’s about a quarter-mile inland. It’s Gunnery House that’s in trouble, and that’s probably been exaggerated anyway. So, what is your considered judgement, dear husband? I shall be guided completely by your wise head in this. Do you think it would be all right for me to go?’
‘Ellie, why are we having this conversation out of Trollope?’ said Pascoe.
‘Enjoy it while you can. But I’m not asking permission. I’m thinking of what’s safe for Rosie, and Daphne, and me, in that order. If you say this would be a crazy thing to do in the circs, that’s it. I totally reserve the right to make any decisions I like affecting just myself, but not my family and friends.’
‘Good Lord. This smacks dangerously of democracy. What’s so funny?’
‘Nothing. Just something I was working on. So, what’s the verdict?’
‘Let me tell you about my day first,’ said Pascoe.
She listened without interruption, then she said, ‘He’s going to be all right, Roote?’
‘Oh yes. Fine. It was all stage management. Only me being late let it go as far as it did. And he had the failsafe of his neighbour bringing his breakfast in if I didn’t turn up at all.’
‘But why?’
‘Stark bonkers. Always was. That’s my partial, prejudiced and non-expert view. What he certainly was, and still is, is the great manipulator. I left him sitting up in bed talking to the press and giving the impression, without actually saying anything specific, of a poor sensitive soul who’s paid his debt to society being hounded to despair by an insensitive and uncaring police force. Mrs Driffield and Miss Mackie, that’s his parole officer, are a very telling supporting chorus. And from the way I got treated in the hospital, it’s clear he is regarded less as a porter and more as a cross between St Francis and Mother Teresa.’
‘Peter, why are you sounding guilty?’
‘Am I?’ He rubbed his face wearily. ‘Could be because I feel… well, not exactly guilty, but responsible anyway. OK, he’s a nut, but he’s a nut who’s served his time and has got a job and isn’t doing anything that�
�s a threat to society, then because of me he starts feeling hassled…’
‘And decides to give you a lesson by slashing his wrists in the bath? Listen, love, if that’s the way his mind works, then you’ve done him a favour by putting him in the professionals’ hands. Anyway, what’s to say that he isn’t our man and the reason he decided to top himself was because he realized the implacable sleuth Pascoe was on his tail and the game of terrify-the-little-woman was up?’
‘I’d really like to believe it,’ said Pascoe. ‘But there was nothing in his flat to suggest a connection. Except he had a book open on the soap rack in the bath, like he was reading himself to sleep. It was Empson’s Seven Types of Ambiguity, ha ha. That’s just his kind of joke.’
‘So he’s still down as a maybe. Fine. Got any other maybes you haven’t bothered to tell me about, Peter? It would be nice to know just how many more lunatic clients of yours are running around out there looking to get even.’
‘No other strong candidates for vengeance,’ he assured her. ‘And my own preferred choice for simply putting pressure on me has been taken out of the frame.’
He told her about Dalziel’s debacle at the Kelly Cornelius hearing. But he didn’t tell her about the weird letter. He was still making up his mind about that, and this was reassurance time.
‘You know, I’ve got this suspicion Andy cocked things up on purpose,’ he concluded. ‘Partly because he reckons the Fraud boys are mucking us about, but also because if all this has got anything to do with Cornelius, cutting her loose should put an end to it.’
‘So perhaps he did it for you. Because he knew you wouldn’t do it for yourself,’ said Ellie, observing him gravely.
‘Who knows?’ said Pascoe.
‘Whatever, it sounds to me like your front runners have both been scratched. So can we assume the danger’s over? I should tell Daphne yes?’
Pascoe hesitated then said, ‘Look, let me have another word with Fat Andy. He’s got a nose for these things.’
He went out to use the hall telephone. A couple of minutes later he returned looking pensive.
Arms and the Women Page 19
