McCann, Maria - As Meat Loves Salt

by Balefanio

  'Jacob?'

  His voice was sleepy and unsure, but my own name struck vio­lently into me. I felt doused in cold water, or as if looking round I had suddenly seen the rest of the household watching us. I got up from the coverlet, groped for the shift and pressed his hands into it. He breathed fast, but made no further sound. I could still taste his mouth inside mine. The air of the chamber striking chill on my wet face, I laid my finger on his cheek, dragged the covers up over his head and left the room.

  Fighting the sheets in my own bed, I could not conceal from my­self that my blood was up and that this - comfort - had stirred the animal spirits in me exactly as an encounter with a woman might. I ran my tongue round my teeth and swallowed. His mouth had already been open when I— the word kiss was enough to so inflame my face it was a wonder it did not light up the chamber. At the thought that I must meet him at breakfast I groaned inwardly.

  Nor was this the worst of my torments: the Devil refines upon these things and hones His barbs for each particular soul. Now He whispered to me, And if he had not pulled away ...? The question was put inside my head with a dry and sandy merriment, His very voice, I swear. And with this whisper He set up such a tumult in me as to starve me of sleep all the rest of the night.

  FOURTEEN

  An Incubus

  Poor Aunt. The next morning, when we should have been prompt and merry in our celebration of Nativity, her nephew and myself were so evidently not right that she hardly knew which of us to coddle more.

  Ferris was at the table and already eating when I entered. My eyes went straight to him and though my bowels turned to water, yet I feigned (I hope) a passable smile in giving him good morrow. He re­turned my greeting civilly enough, but his eyelids being much swollen I could not tell how he looked at me.

  Aunt came up to kiss and wish me a happy Nativity. On seeing my face up close she gave a squeal.

  'Do you mark this, Christopher! What a sight for Our Lord's birthday!'

  'We both of us look ill,' said Ferris. These harmless words had me quivering like a fern in a moorland gale.

  'O, the wine,' I said hastily. 'You know I seldom, ah ..' I broke off, all in a terror lest Aunt's chatter set off some echo in her nephew's head.

  'First I tell Christopher that he must take care,' she went on, 'and now I find Jacob in the same case! Is it possible, a big man like you? You had no more than myself!'

  'It troubled my sleep. I dreamt my brother was dead,' I returned shortly, and then could have torn out my tongue for the word 'dreamt'.

  'Ah, I am sorry!'Her face softened.

  'I saw him laid out.' I shuddered: that at least was unfeigned.

  Aunt pinched my cheek. 'Sit you down and eat something. We should be joyous today.'

  I wondered how many times I would be told 'Be joyous' before I died. Can a man arrange the sorrows and joys of his life to the Chris­tian calendar? But of course, all particular and temporal sorrow should melt before Salvation's timeless sun. I gave her a hypocrite's smile be­fore closing my eyes to say Grace. Opening them again, I kept them fixed on her, as in gratitude; anything was easier than looking at Fer­ris. I took a roll and some butter, carefully placing myself so that I was not opposite to him.

  He picked out two boiled eggs from a dish and proceeded to crack the shells.

  'Jacob, did you come into my room last night?' Directly before Aunt! My mouth seemed full of clay as I answered, 'No, not I.'

  Ah ..' He put pepper on the first egg. 'No matter.'

  'Is something gone?'I made myself ask.

  'No.' He took butter on his knife, pushing it down into the yolk. After a minute or so he announced, ‘Aunt, I think we should leave off that wine.'

  'One of us might drink less of it,'she replied. 'It is not the quality at fault, methinks, but the quantity.'

  'I'm not talking of sore heads,' Ferris insisted. 'My head is clear, at least, it is now. That wine provokes dreams.'

  'Not in me,' said Aunt. ‘And I drank my half bottle with the best of ’em.' She winked at me.

  'Jacob had a dream. And I— well, it was either a dream or an incubus!'

  A what?' asked Aunt.

  I did not want to hear him tell her. My face felt scalded and I was convinced they must both remark it.

  Ferris patted the table as if the wood needed calming. ‘A dream. A dream.'

  'Is an incubus a spirit?' asked Aunt.

  He rubbed his eyes, smiling. ‘Aye. But this was a dream.'

  'Dream of what?' Her face was grown uneasy. 'Not another death?'

  'No, no. I'd be hard put to tell—' He burst into outright laughter. 'Your nephew's a wondrous wanton dreamer.'

  Aunt pursed her lips; Ferris continued to laugh, shaking his head incredulously. A wanton dreamer. I felt warmth return to my hands, arms, belly; I sat back in the chair and was able to taste the bread again.

  'No wantonness today if you please,'said Aunt. 'Of all days.'

  Agreed,' said Ferris. 'Or rather, no more of it, for a man can't un-think what's been thought — eh, Jacob?'

  'I beg your pardon,' I fenced, 'I was not paying attention.'

  'I was saying one can't unthink a wanton thought.' He took the spoon out of the eggshell and shifted slightly in his chair so that his eyes were full on me. 'But Jacob, why fear a dream?' He held up the spoon for emphasis. 'It was the wine working. My life on it, you've lost no brother.'

  'I would I knew that for sure,' I said.

  'Nor any friend,' he added.

  His voice was gentle. I tried to thank him for this reassurance but my tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth; I could bring out nought but a confused babble. He bent his head over the egg and began spooning out the yolk. I would have undergone public penance to understand him aright. I dared not ask ... did he know I was there in body? Who, to his mind, was really the wanton dreamer? Who had the wanton thought a man can't unthink ..?

  During divine service I stood next to Ferris and heard the minister speaking a long way off, as I studied the shape of my friend's hands, and how he clasped them. I could smell his skin and hair in the cold air of the church, and stood aching, my face a devout mask stretched over a rotten soul.

  On the way back I talked with Aunt, and felt better; but as we approached the house I started a toothache. The warmth of the fire indoors only made it worse, and the twinge grew to a clamour, until at last a torturing demon began jabbing the tooth with a hammer and

  chisel. Chewing cloves took the edge off it awhile, but they burnt my tongue. Meanwhile we ate goose, patties, a pumpkin pie, nuts: every dish spiced with pain. By the end of the afternoon's celebrations I was groaning aloud.

  'Which one is it?' Ferris and Aunt stood before the glass with me, each in the other's way. They made me sit, held little mirrors and tried to shine candles in my mouth.

  'Nothing,' said Aunt. 'No black anywhere, no bloody gums.'

  'Perhaps a wisdom tooth,' suggested Ferris. He spoke softly, his face creased up with my suffering.

  At the front,' I moaned.

  'Which one?'

  'It feels like all of them.'

  "That's the way with teeth,' said Aunt. She flung herself into a chair. 'You can't have the lot drawn!'

  Ferris felt inside my bottom jaw and pressed each tooth in turn. 'Here? Here?'

  I was quite unable to distinguish. All I could do was to hold on tight to the sides of the chair, and keep myself from sucking his fin­gers.

  'Would that my teeth were as good,' he said. 'Had we best fetch a surgeon in any case?'

  'We'll try simples first,' Aunt said. "There'll be no surgeon willing to come out today, not for a tooth.'

  Tinctures were produced. They drowsied me so that I would fain have slept forever: but through it all the drum of pain throbbed on. Hot and cold objects were held to my jaw and produced no effect. Aunt shook her head, puzzled. It was still only six in the evening.

  'You are lucky, one way,' she said. 'You won't be any prettier with a front toot
h out but at least he won't have to pull your head off.'

  'Is a back tooth harder?'

  She nodded vigorously. ‘Agony. I had one out once and I'd say it was a fair punishment for any crime!'

  'I don't want to be gap-toothed.'

  'O, you're bonny enough.' I must have frowned, for she added, 'Jacob! Vanity!' and then kissed me on the forehead and said, 'Forgive me, child. Let's see what else there is.'

  Infused valerian was poured down my throat, but failed to shift the pain.

  Aunt paced the room. 'It must be worms in the teeth.'

  'Get him to bed while he can still stand,' said Ferris. I remem­bered Zeb with his broken rib. They helped me upstairs, for the vari­ous draughts had rendered me clumsy, and stripped me to my shirt. I perceived no timidity in Ferris's handling of me but was scarce in a state to observe it. In my tired and drugged condition I should have melted at once, yet the agony crept by degrees into my upper jaw, my ear and the side of my skull. Lying on my side — my back — my front — with my face buried in the bolster — it was all of no use, for in the dark chamber torture blotted out my world. Fists clenched, I imagined my skull lit within by a brilliant white, which blazed out at my ears and eyes into the night. Illumination by suffering! I smiled at this theology but straightway the throbbing swelled, turned hotter and uglier and commenced cracking my skull from within, hatching from it as a chick from an egg. I beat my head on the pillow and cried out to Jesu. Again I heard the hurt men at Winchester. Well, I was not yet calling out to Mother.

  Aunt came in with a candle, Ferris walking behind her.

  'Here,' she said, holding out a pewter cup.

  Poppy. The scent of it was familiar from Beaurepair. I drank the lot.

  'You'll rest now,' she told me. 'Christopher will fetch the surgeon as soon as it's light.'

  Ferris touched the side of my face. 'He'll get it out for you.'

  'Once it mounts into your head it's a devil—' Aunt's whisper was cut off as she closed the door on me. Unseen, I shed a few tears, but soon after the poppy at last swept me away.

  My dreams were not so much wanton as disordered. The dead girl from Basing was in the chamber with me and asked me to give her her gown again. She was wearing it, stains and all. I said I had no such garment and she pulled back the bedcover to show my body fully clothed. She then took a knife from my belt.

  'Is this the one?' she kept asking. I said it was. After that she

  touched my hand. She was cold and wet and I knew she was come from the pond.

  'Will you see the place where he cut me?' she asked, and fell to un­lacing her gown. I told her No, and she replied, No matter, she could show me here, and bending right over me she showed me a bloody hole at the base of her neck. I put my finger to it and she laughed and called me Doubting Thomas. My father was there but I cannot recall what he said or did.

  When I woke I could feel nothing at first. Then I understood that Ferris’s hand was on my cheek and he had brought up a candle. The pain leapt in my jaw.

  'Aaah! O no, no!'

  'The surgeon's here, Jacob.'

  'It's gone to the back of my mouth!' I was in a terror lest we end by drawing my every tooth.

  'Mister Chaperain will know where to have it,' he replied. He did not sound very sure. 'I'll tell him you are coming down.'

  I dressed palpitating, fearful as any guilty soul entering Hell's Gate. I told myself I was lucky to have reached man's estate and no worse pain than this, yet how can philosophy soothe bodily anguish? I knew then, and have often confirmed it since, that be a man never so trusting in God, yet he cannot hold his hand in a flame. Nature will not support it. The girl at Basing, she who was come to me in the night — what had she felt when the sword minced her entrails? She did not scream, was that only to cheat us at the last?

  The toothache had indeed moved. It seemed gone into the lower jaw on the right side, a white flame of agony, and what games it now played me, licking round the jawbone as if to burn me out. I tore at my clothes in the haste to don them and at last went down in my shirt and breeches. Ferris stood by the fire. Aunt was there, looking sick, and a little balding fellow with black curls round his ears. He was solid as a bull-dog and had monstrous knotted calves setting off his bandy legs. A chair stood in the centre of the room.

  I nodded to the bull-dog. 'Mister Chaperain. Good morning, Aunt.'

  'Will you sit down, Sir?' He turned to Aunt. 'I see it now, Mad­am.'

  'He means,'said Ferris to me,'that you are too big to hold and had better be tied.'

  'I will keep still,' I said indignantly.

  'With respect, Sir, my experience tells me that even the bravest gentlemen cannot do so,' murmured Chaperain. 'Unless you will con­sent to be tied I cannot perform the extraction.'

  Had I not just been considering that Nature will not permit self-torture? 'Very well,' I said.

  'We will not bind you yet,' he smiled at me. I sat down in the chair, feeling I think more frightened than ever I did in the army or of Walshe, either. A man may laugh when there is only the chance of pain, but not when he sees the rack and screw laid ready for him. Tied down. The sweat was already starting under my arms.

  'I'll give you something,' soothed Aunt. She pressed my hand and left the room. The surgeon now took a small hammer and began tap­ping at my teeth as if trying to crack hard-boiled eggs. One of his taps had me directly up and out of the chair.

  Ah! That will be the fellow,' he murmured to himself. 'Pray be seated,' and he again tapped in the same place. This time my arm flew up and I drove the heel of my hand into his nostrils.

  'Pardon me,' I mumbled as we both rocked and held our faces.

  'No matter. That's the one. Sir! I shall lay out my batterie. You see the necessity for tying the patient,' he remarked to my friend, who looked mighty sick already.

  'Poppy, quick!' called Ferris. To Chaperain he said, 'Pray give him time for it to take hold.'

  'I have other patients—'

  'You'll find it worth your while.'

  Aunt came in with another jug of poppy mixture. I drank it off at once.

  'Courage, man, it will soon be over,' said Ferris. He looked down on me with a kind of gentle grief. We sat awkwardly until the mixture began to take effect. I seemed to be dreaming while awake and slid sideways in the chair.

  'Now,' said Aunt. I was pulled upright and felt rope go round my arms and legs. I asked if they were tying me up so that dog could bait me. Ferris enquired of me, which did I take myself for, a bull or a bear? and when I laughed they put wadding in my mouth on the left side which stopped me closing my jaws. I felt them laying stuff over my neck and chest. Something metal scraped along the teeth on the right side. I shut my eyes and kept them shut.

  'No need to screw up your face like that, we're not under way yet,' came a voice.

  'Alas, poor lad!'

  'Get a grip of his head! Ready?' Someone seized me in a head lock from behind — it must have been Ferris — and the surgeon sat astride my lap to weight me down. I could smell his own rotten teeth, and the fingers which thrust between my lips tasted of herring.

  'Give me a clout, there, he's drooling on me----'

  Red hot, white hot, wire driven deep through the quivering jelly beneath the tooth. Some eating poison thrown in a soft, open wound — I howled as well as I could through his fingers and the suffocating wad which was partly got into my throat and was like to choke me.

  'Madam, could you kindly hold the chair legs?'

  A crunching, splitting sound like the heart of an oak as it is felled. I was drinking my own blood. I tried to spit it out.

  'Stop that! ... Give me the clout again!'

  'Let him spit,' Ferris said. 'Jacob, spit.' He let go of my head so I could bend to the bowl Aunt was holding. The bull-dog was wiping his face.

  'Once more and we're done. Get ahold, sir.' My head was pulled back. Then came a cracking and tearing as though the whole jaw was being ripped out. I screamed from full lu
ngs, over and over again.

  'There,' someone said.

  The crunching stopped and pain, tasting of rust, pulsed over my tongue. Then I understood that too was blood. I opened my eyes. The little man was holding up the tooth, which to my fuddled sight seemed a huge belegged thing like a mandrake root. He got up off my thighs, his face all gory freckles.

  'You'll be easier now,' he said.

  Aunt came to me and wiped my mouth; I felt something wet and heavy being peeled off my chest.

  'Lord, Lord, the poor lad!' she lamented. 'And look- we should have taken off his shirt.' I looked down and saw my linen brightly spotted where the blood had soaked through.

  'Do they all bleed like that?' asked Ferris. He came round to the front of the chair and put some water to my lips. I opened my jaw to show I could not drink with the wadding, and he fished it out. Aunt was untying me.

  'O, they all bleed,' said Chaperain. 'Would you like to keep the tooth?' he asked me. I nodded. 'Keep it for a marvel,' he went on. 'It's the soundest I ever pulled.' He showed me the thing without hole or flaw. And then I fell asleep in the chair.

  My head was loose inside. 'Sick,' my voice said and Ferris rose from the corner and snatched up a pot. I heaved violently and a thread of blackish stinking stuff came trickling out of me. He stared at it, frowning, and called out, ‘Aunt!' I heard her dress swish against the door as she hurried in.

  'He's casting up!' Ferris cried. 'Look here.' He pushed the pot towards her: she took it and swilled the contents about, sniffing at them.

  'Well?’ Ferris urged.

  She put down the mess and wiped my brow, then lips, with some­thing perfumed.

  'Blood, gone black in his belly. What he swallowed.'

  'Will there be more?'

  She shrugged. 'Keep nigh him.'

  But there was no more. I had been asleep two or three hours, for they had eaten. I could smell boiled fish in the room.

  'I want to go to bed,' I said.

  'Becs shall put the warming pan in,' said Ferris.

  'Now. I want to go now.’ When I stood up I was weak, but steady enough, so they contented themselves with mounting the stairs be­hind me. My feet dragged. A clean vomit-pot came with me and Aunt made me take a finger of cordial before I undressed.