Can we talk about that later? I want to get up, eat, have some tea, and go to the bathroom. All those minor little necessities taken care of, I can take some time to figure out what it all means.”
“Okay,” Dickon said. “But there’s one more bit of news you should know. Val, she didn’t make it.”
“I know,” Ben said. “She told me she wouldn’t, and asked to be buried in the cemetery on the hill.”
“Where or when did you talk to her?”
“I’ll tell you over food and tea, lover. Now, help me get up and get dressed so I can eat.”
“Okay,” Dickon said, straightening up, “but we’ll have to talk sometime. I’ve got things to work out in my mind, and I need you to help.”
“Same here, Dickon,” Ben said as he sat up. He waited for the specks swirling in his vision to settle. “A full stomach and an empty bladder do wonders for sharing confidences.”
Dickon helped Ben stand, and helped him walk to the bathroom. He would have held Ben up while he voided his bladder, but Ben dismissed him with the words, “Please, Daddy, I can do it all by myself.” Dickon withdrew and closed the bathroom door. He waited outside, fearing every moment to hear the thud of Ben’s falling body. When he heard a shocked cry, he pushed the door open.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ben said.
“Tell you what?”
“That my hair’s gone white.”
“Oh, sorry. I’ve grown used to it. It’s rather elegant, you know.”
“It makes me look old.”
“And wise. Dye it later, if you want to. No big deal, lover man.”
Ben turned to look at Dickon. Suddenly, he laughed. “No, I suppose it’s not,” he said.
Ermentrude’s Interlude
Ermentrude left Hyacinth in her parents’ care and went adventuring. She had seldom left the manor house while Vanna remained a threat. Now that the threat was gone, she wanted a holiday. She wandered down hill along the funicular’s path, stopping to crouch, lash her tail, and pounce on a fat mouse. The mouse flesh was sweet to her taste. For a little while she dozed in the sun. The unicorn with the unique horn prompted her to wander on, and she found herself at the Café’s back door.
Rosa saw her stalk a butterfly, and commented to Harry, “That sure looks like Hyacinth’s cat.”
Harry replied. “Yup. Could be.” He went back to counting out teabags. Rosa thought no more of it, and turned to her vegetable chopping again.
Ermentrude continued to wander toward the beach. The unicorn took out its horn and screwed it in. She began to dance. Ermentrude had all the excitability of estrus, which was odd, since Notta had had her spayed as a kitten. At the far end of the motel she met the tom. A great orange rough beast he was, wise in the wild ways of feral existence. He circled Ermentrude, growling and mewling at her. She stood for him, and he pounced on her back, his teeth grasping her neck, while he had his way with her. When he had done, he streaked away, across the highway.
Scratched and bitten and sore, Ermentrude lay in the shade of the motel, panting, for a long while, before the lure of supper drew her back up the mountain to her food dish in the manor. She did not venture outside her habitual confines again. It was more than a month before Notta noticed how rapidly Ermentrude had put on weight. She mentioned it one afternoon to Willy. He took a long look at Ermentrude and said, “Kittens. That’s all.”
“Can’t be,” Notta said. “We had her fixed.”
“Some tom unfixed her, by the look of it,” Willy said. “Strange things can happen on the mountain.”
Puzzled Notta shook her head, unwilling to believe. She was still disbelieving when Ermentrude delivered two male kittens, one gray and white, like herself, and one a bright orange, like the itinerant tom.
“Perhaps we should ask the Pueblo Rio vet for a refund,” DiConti said to Willy, who had attended the birth.
“Wouldn’t do it,” Willy said. “These kittens are unicorn magic. Bet Ermentrude still shows up spayed on an X-ray.”
Notta shook her head, and went to get a sturdy box and soft old blanket to make a bed for Ermentrude. She cut one side of the box to allow Ermentrude easy passage. When she returned with the readied box, she said to Willy, “I don’t know if I’m up to mothering Hyacinth without a lot of help.”
“That’s why there’s the Village to raise your daughter, and these kittens. Bet your Mom and Haakon would appreciate having one or both of them when they’re weaned.”
“Perhaps,” Notta said. She lifted Ermentrude gently, stroked her head, and put her in the box. Ermentrude mewled until Willy gently lifted the kittens into the box with her. They began nursing at once. Ermentrude settled in for a rest. Only later did she leave the kittens long enough to drink and eat from the water and food Notta had left close to her box.
Ermentrude soon discovered the burdens of motherhood were almost as wearisome as her labor had been. Six weeks later, when the kittens were of an age to wean, she celebrated with a long, unbroken nap on Hyacinth’s bed while Notta and Hyacinth took the kittens to Emma and Haakon. Emma and Haakon took the kittens in, and named them Megawatt and Gigabyte. They came in the fullness of time to play their own parts in balancing the Universe.
In the Fullness of Time
Princess Valiant’s funeral was a Village affair. Willy brought the backhoe and dug a grave for her not far from La Señora’s grave. The Swami had displayed an unexpected skill with wood, screws, and saws, and made a simple casket for her. When they gathered on the hillside, the llamas came and stood near them. Charles Algernon Burnswine rode on the Swami’s shoulder. For once Charles had nothing to say. Butter stood quietly between Dickon and Ben, just the tip of her tail wagging. Ermentrude lay in Notta’s arms (Hyacinth had held her until the cat became too heavy for the girl’s arms).
Dickon spoke. “Val was our friend, and a great strength to us. We shall miss her. We only had her a little time, but that time was blessed with her presence. We commit her now to the great mystery of the Universe. The Overarching Power has a place set aside for her. Go about the rest of your lives, carrying her spirit in your hearts. Let her dust return to the earth. Amen.”
They all stood silent for a few moments, waiting, not sure for what. At last a crow flew over, cried out one wailing “Caw!” and dropped a black feather on Princess Valiant’s coffin, and then flew away into the sun.
The Swami, Dickon, Willy, and Haakon then lowered the plywood casket into the grave. The mourners dispersed, Ben leaning on Dickon. In the cove waters, crustaceans clustered in conclave. With much clattering of their claws they selected a new leader.
When Dickon got Ben home, he put on the kettle. Ben dozed while the water heated. Dickon brought the cup to him and set it on the table beside his chair. He waited until Ben woke up.
“Tea,” Dickon said.
“Thanks,” Ben said. He sipped at it, and put the mug down. “I’ve said goodbye again,” Ben went on. “Another funeral. I’m tired of them.”
“The Princess was a good Villager,” Dickon said. “She fit in almost as quickly as you did.”
“She told me she belonged here more than she ever belonged with any other group of people she’d ever known. She thanked all of us for that.”
“When did she tell you that?”
“While we were both lying in a coma. Our spirits, or souls, or consciousness, whatever you want to call them, met in a weird landscape. We talked a little bit, and then she told me how well she fit here. And then she said goodbye.”
“What was it like, to fight Vanna mind to mind?”
“Strange images,” Ben said, and went on to tell Dickon what he remembered of the struggle. “In the end,” he wound up his tale, “I had to use the cove against her. I hadn’t meant to destroy her, but I had to. She was coming for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes. I couldn’t let anything happen to you.” Dickon streamed tears
down his face.
“Oh, Ben,” he said, as he got up and went to sit at Ben’s feet, “I saw her die. It was so very sad, and such a great relief. A weight that had held me down ever since I met her, or maybe even from before, just went when she did.” He sighed. “I was empty and light, and almost afraid I’d float away after her. Then I thought of you, and I was filled again, only you don’t weigh heavy on me. Ben, I love you. There, I’ve said it. If I’m embarrassing you, I’m sorry.”
Ben caressed Dickon’s gray-shot red hair. “I’m not embarrassed, you ninny. I love you, Dickon, like I’ve never loved anybody else.”
“Not even Len?”
“He was another man, and I loved him dearly, in another way. He’s gone, his time glass filled up, and he went. You’re my man, now, Dickon. For this time we have, let’s celebrate being together.”
“We will, Ben, we will.” They sipped at their tea as the twilight softened the room. Butter sat with them, a small grin playing about her muzzle.
Ben Soul Page 165
