Arrows of Desire

by Geoffrey Household

  ‘And we have all the intellectuals with us,’ Green added. ‘All the noble force of liberalism on our side! Have you seen the moving protest from Federal authors?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well then!’

  ‘I never noticed … there was so much … gold in the mist,’ said Bandaged Jaw.

  ‘You’re all eyes these days,’ Hungry remarked.

  ‘Chum, I’ve time to use them. Talking … hurts.’

  ‘Are you staying on, Mr Middlesex?’ Leg asked.

  ‘We are staying on.’

  ‘Could you tell me … the name of … those trees on the hill … which are turn … turn … turning colour?’ Bandaged Jaw mumbled.

  ‘They are beeches.’

  ‘Thank you. I like to know … the name of what I love.’

  ‘So do I.’

  ‘It makes it easier … to talk about them … when I can talk again.’

  ‘Well, look after ’em for us!’ said Leg. ‘I’m glad they aren’t giving you any trouble.’

  ‘Trouble? They’ve got those poor natives where they want them,’ Smith declaimed to his audience. ‘They could starve them out by carting away the manure heaps.’

  ‘I never thought of that,’ Humphrey replied. ‘Given a road or a flying dung cart, I suppose they could. But they would never find their way back to Avebury.’

  ‘You mean to say that you are with us?’

  ‘You do like to divide things into two, sir.’

  The Chancellor moaned piously:

  ‘He who is not with us is against us.’

  ‘So you are willing to help?’

  Humphrey glanced at the three wounded, who had lost all interest in their former ringleaders.

  ‘I have a lot in common with some of you,’ he said.

  The words slipped out more sharply than he intended and for the moment defied self-analysis. His opinion of the immigrants had only been one of disdainful toleration. He accepted the ideals of the Federation and the policy of the High Commissioner; Pretorius was right in his ruthless decision to expel the lot of them. And yet these poor devils with whom, as he had just said, he had so much in common, had also a right or dreamed they had a right – and were they not dreams which allowed a sufferer to live rather than exist? – to love the home which had once been theirs. They had become a race utterly different from his own people, but even so should be free as the birds and animals to lift up their hearts to the spirit of the land.

  ‘We have failed. There’s no point in denying it,’ Smith admitted almost proudly. ‘We were all wrong to engage the police and the army. What I want now is that hundreds of us should work in secret. Kill, kidnap, destroy – and then vanish! The Federation is too soft to stand that for long.’

  Guelph warned that the British seemed to have mastered that technique before they were deported the last time.

  ‘What is your authority for that?’ Green asked.

  ‘My aunt, sir.’

  ‘Oh, legends! Quite!’

  ‘We had better know who this fellow is before going any further,’ Smith said.

  ‘I am Black Rod, servant of the forest.’

  ‘You still have servants down there?’

  ‘We all serve. That must seem strange to you.’

  ‘I’ll say it does! You have to take in this world. Nobody is going to give you anything. But what do you do? Hold his hand when he’s in trouble?’

  ‘If required.’

  ‘And he pays you for it in whatever you use for money?’

  ‘He does. But I don’t pay him anything for holding mine.’

  ‘Guelph, I am amply repaid,’ Humphrey protested.

  ‘Observe, my lambs, the natives!’ the Chancellor expounded. ‘Is it not written in the Laws of Nelson that Manners Maketh Man?’

  ‘Aye, and it’s a shame the Assembly didn’t remember that instead of screeching away like a bunch of tomcats,’ Hungry said.

  That set Smith off again. Waving his overworked arm, he told the eager trees that this was no time for manners when for the British every hour was an hour of suffering, every day a day of effort. Some time, victorious, they would have a use again for manners …

  The speech threatened to go on interminably, thus giving time for Humphrey to listen only to himself. This visit to Avebury, intended only to explore the intentions of the High Commissioner and, if the occasion offered, to plead for Brown’s acquittal and any possible mercy for his Silvia, had now forced on him a wider objective. What could he do for these guests of Britain, these three who were saying farewell to a dead love?

  Nothing. He was helpless. Or was he? If Thea had not insisted that he would be more effective without her, if she had been present and listening with her hand on his, she would never have let him be resigned to a lack of influence. She was too impressed, however, by the quality of leadership which she saw in him. Well, at least these immigrants were ready for it. They were leader-less, or soon would be.

  ‘No doubt you are perfectly right,’ he said to Smith, interrupting the flow.

  ‘You understand me? You are educated?’

  ‘My mother would tell you that I have been taught to lead and not to think. An all-round failure, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You don’t have to think. And we’ll make it worth your while.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘A hide-out in the forest. A headquarters which they will never suspect.’

  ‘Will Alfred Brown join you in this campaign?’

  ‘The martyr, Alfred Brown? Not he! He doesn’t represent anything. Is he still alive?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I’ve had some interesting talks with him. You wouldn’t say he loved this country?’

  ‘No. He thinks it’s enough if he just gives himself.’

  ‘I see. Now, Chancellor, you and I have known each other for some time. Off and on. I know what to do for you. But these two political leaders – are they responsible for this rising?’

  ‘What man could do, they did, Middlesex.’

  ‘Guelph, I think the Inspector of Missions’ camp in Brentford marshes would be just right for these patriotic activities.’

  ‘Very fitting indeed.’

  ‘Always agree with him, don’t you?’ Green said. ‘You ought to have more pride, a big chap like you.’

  ‘I am not aware of lacking pride, sir. I am descended from Kings of England.’

  ‘His aunt again!’

  ‘My plans have changed, Guelph,’ Humphrey told him. ‘When these patriots are safely accommodated, pick up Alfred Brown at Golders Green and bring him here. He and I will go together to Avebury.’

  ‘Town clothes?’

  ‘They are in the saddle bags with the tent. I shall camp near here with horses till you come. Would you all three like to go with Guelph now?’ he added to Smith.

  ‘Let’s take a look at it, Green. We shan’t be missed. They don’t even bother to search for us any more.’

  ‘It’s a long road, but very restful when you get there,’ Guelph assured them.

  Black Rod beckoned to the Chancellor, Smith and Green, and formally walking backwards his few official steps started the three on the march to the haunts of the wild cattle whose habits George had charitably excused by claiming that they killed only for fun.

  Bandaged Jaw asked if he could accompany them just as far as the beeches.

  ‘I’d go along with him,’ said Hungry. ‘The wife and I used to picnic down there.’

  ‘Not yet, friend.’

  ‘Have a heart and let us go! It’s now or never.’

  ‘Now or never – it’s seldom that really turns up and one sees it.’

  Leg winked at him, murmuring:

  ‘Come off it! What about yourself?’

  ‘Me? I just bumble along.’

  ‘You bumbled a bit of all right with your hide-out. I wouldn’t put it past you, terrorism. But not with that gang.’

  ‘Not if you’re a friend of Alfred Brown,’ Hungry added.

&nb
sp; Bumbling, Humphrey thought, was exactly what he had been doing until he accepted that any interview with Pretorius must deal with far more than the fate of Brown and his daughter. Neither demand nor protest from an amusing forest barbarian would have any effect on that kindly but formidable man. A lightness of approach, an air of irresponsible unconcern should be his opening move, and then he should act out the image which Pezulu’s fantasies had created: an image of geniality which disguised mystery and power.

  Bandaged Jaw fixed his eyes on Leg, guessed at once what he suspected and tactfully changed the subject.

  ‘Fine chap … that Black … Rod.’

  ‘I’d like to see Mrs Brown’s face when she hears her old man is in the bush.’

  ‘Picked a harem for him, have you?

  ‘Bow and arrow more like, and a nappy for his big bum!’

  ‘Now if you and him was to get together, we’d all have a bit of fun,’ Leg said to Humphrey.

  ‘What sort of fun?’

  ‘What we want, cock, the Federation can’t give nor them three bastards either.’

  ‘Put a name to it.’

  ‘Ah, that’s where you have me. I dunno.’

  Though the reports of his Chief of Police were hard to believe, duty compelled Pretorius to take them – well, not seriously but with courtesy. The policy of resettlement had failed and he accused himself of too gentle a tolerance. That had led to the massacre at the Residency only halted by the fantastic behaviour of Aranda, out of keeping with the old-fashioned, half comic traditions of the military. There could be no more tolerance now.

  He had decided to interrogate Silvia Brown himself for a second time. The first interrogation, immediately after the attempted assassination, had not been successful, but after weeks in the reformatory, kindly though the treatment was, defiance would have been tempered by boredom.

  He was right in that. Her pink and white complexion had taken on a shade of grey and her blue eyes no longer sparkled. She slumped a little in her chair, whereas on her first appearance before him she had been tense as a young bitch in training and her chair a springboard for attack. This time, instead of the friendly gesture of sitting on the corner of his desk, he remained facing her on his official chair, emphasising authority. Tito Pezulu stood to her right and farther away was an Inspector taking notes of the interrogation. She was in the midst of a triangle of power.

  After some personal questions on her political opinions, her education, and how and by whom she had been drawn into the criminal activity of nationalism, Pretorius handed over to Pezulu.

  ‘Where are Smith and Green now?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know. How should I?’

  ‘What contacts had they with the natives?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘Did Smith and Green know Humphrey of Middlesex?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But the Chancellor did?’

  ‘That’s a policeman’s question. You put them for the sake of putting them. You might as well ask me when the Chancellor learned to play the fiddle.’

  Pretorius agreed with her. He sternly suppressed a smile and explained that Pezulu Pasha was suggesting that the Chancellor was the contact between her committee and the natives.

  ‘But why? Those poor natives could not be any use to us.’

  Silvia held the seat of her chair as if to keep herself from falling. Pretorius guessed rightly that it was exasperation rather than any faintness which affected her. He gave her his first smile and retired to the window with Pezulu.

  ‘We must get it out of her before we let her see her father,’ Pezulu said.

  ‘I think she’s telling the truth.’

  ‘Believe me, sir – you can’t trust to instinct in dealing with politicals. Play our last card!’

  ‘It won’t work.’

  The two returned to their places. Pretorius, attracted by the youth and courage of his would-be assassin though disliking her British beauty, did his best to look fatherly.

  ‘Now, I am not going to bargain with you, Miss Brown. Justice must take its course. If, however, you will tell me what you know of the relations between your secret committee and any native tribes under the leadership of Humphrey of Middlesex, I am prepared to recommend a reprieve to the President of the Federation.’

  ‘I do not want a reprieve. There is nothing to live for.’

  ‘Think of your mother! You may be all she has.’

  ‘Have you killed my father?’

  ‘You know very well that we do not commit murder,’ Pretorius answered severely. ‘Your father was in the care of the State for harbouring arms.’

  ‘He was innocent. I told you. What have you done to him?’

  ‘Nothing yet. He managed to escape to the forest,’ Pezulu said with a shade of admiration.

  ‘That’s a lie! It’s impossible to escape.’

  Pretorius banged his desk.

  ‘My good girl, he did!’

  ‘What about your Corrector then? Oh, to think that I tried to shoot you! You’re as futile as all your people.’

  Pezulu ordered his Inspector to remove the prisoner until she calmed down. A remarkable temper she had, fortunately rare among the immigrants who treated the authorities with respect whatever they thought of them. The Inspector marched her off through a side door leading to the lobby of the private apartments.

  Pretorius rose thankfully from his desk, saying that Silvia Brown knew nothing of any interest.

  ‘I cannot understand what you’ve got hold of, Tito. I’m not even sure that your Smith and Green exist.’

  ‘They exist all right. And if I could lay my hands on those two they’d have a nasty accident while trying to escape.’

  ‘Yet you’re afraid to arrest Alfred Brown!’

  ‘I’m watching his contacts.’

  ‘I’ve been told that by some security man or other once a week for two years.’

  Pezulu pointed to papers in the High Commissioner’s pending file and ventured to say that he would find security reports still of value if he were to read them.

  ‘Same old stuff! A reliable source reports that … Confirmation has been received that … A frequents B, B frequents C, therefore A knows C.’

  ‘Look here, sir – it’s simple. Middlesex is seen strolling openly with Alfred Brown outside Brown’s house. The pair of them are run in. Middlesex makes himself comfortable and sends for me. I turn him loose with apologies. He refuses to be separated from Brown. So I give Brown a temporary pass.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Because we cannot afford to offend Middlesex.’

  ‘Offend him? Naturally I do not want to offend him. But what beats me is that the mere presence of this beer-swilling barbarian in the capital seems to paralyse the lot of you.’

  ‘Where’s the Chancellor? We don’t know. How did Middlesex get hold of Brown and short-circuit my Corrector? We don’t know. And whatever you like to say about reliable sources, it’s a fact that Smith and Green are with him.’

  ‘Well, I am not standing any nonsense from Middlesex. And I have kept him waiting long enough to make that quite clear, I hope.’

  He pressed the button to summon Julian Cola, his ADC, who took a little longer to arrive than usual and left the double door slightly open behind him as if to hear any disturbance in the anteroom.

  ‘Julian, send in Humphrey of Middlesex and the man Brown.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I am afraid they are no longer here. It may take a minute or two.’

  Pretorius had a sudden vision of the barbarian prince and the father of his assassin contemptuously wandering round the Residency to examine the guard posts.

  ‘You will see that it takes less, Julian. I am prepared to receive them now. What the devil are they up to?’

  ‘Middlesex insisted on using the time to teach the staff an old British game.’

  ‘A game? In the anteroom?’

  ‘Down the corridor, sir. He calls it French cricket.’

  ‘French cricket
? Oh, one of their ceremonies before business, no doubt.’

  ‘Miss Theodosia would know, sir. But you make a tight ball of paper and tape. You then obtain a stick, ruler or other narrow implement. The first player tries to hit with the ball the legs of the second player, who defends them with the implement …’

  From outside the majestic double door came the patter of quick footsteps and the thud of a heavy man hitting the floor.

  ‘Well caught, Alfred!’ exclaimed Humphrey’s echoing voice. ‘What a dive! Cola, you’re in.’

  The ADC slid out before the High Commissioner’s words could reach him.

  Chapter VIII

  Pretorius, still simmering with suppressed indignation, was annoyed by the elegance of Humphrey of Middlesex, whose tunic was cut to a perfection which Pretorius himself had never achieved and plain white in colour. That was an added impertinence. The High Commissioner looked with more sympathy at Alfred Brown, of whom one could only say that he was a normal citizen of Avebury wearing the usual monotonous clothing in which crude colours were the only sign of an individuality.

  He extended a hand which Humphrey shook with a ceremonious bow and a charming smile, saying that he hoped they had not made too much noise. Pretorius was compelled to reply that he regretted having been compelled to keep them waiting. He did not offer a hand to Alfred Brown, but merely indicated a chair.

  Humphrey turned to Pezulu Pasha, remarking how nice it was to see him again so soon.

  ‘I’ve not had a look at you in our clothes before,’ Pezulu replied. ‘They suit you.’

  ‘Thank you. You see, I might be spending a little time in Avebury and I hate seeming different to everybody else.’

  Pretorius, not to be outdone in courtesies, commended Mr Brown for voluntarily returning to custody.

  ‘I tell you what …’ Alfred began.

  ‘Alfred, it’s a very small point, but … His Excellency,’ Humphrey corrected him.

  ‘I tell Your Excellency what. Before I met the natives I didn’t know what I wanted. Now I do know.’

  ‘What you wanted? I don’t understand.’