by Balefanio
'What with poppy and lack of sleep you're almost done for,' she soothed. 'All for a tooth, eh?'
'It's gone,' I said. A dull ache nagged at my jaw. Where the tooth had been was a torn jelly which I tried not to stir with my tongue, for whenever I touched it the blood would well up into my spittle, like wine in water. I was as ready to sleep as an overladen beast, and no sooner had the sheets warmed to me than I was gone again.
I slept all the rest of Boxing Day and woke, with a burning desire to make water, in the dark of the next morning. Having relieved nature I came back to bed all goosebumps and lay rubbing my feet together, but had no longer any wish to sleep and so waited, curious to know what o'clock it was, namely four, as I presently discovered by the bells of Paul's.
I rested quietly in the darkness and from time to time put my tongue into the tooth hole. The flesh there was tender and ragged: prodding at it brought a sullen twinge. That was no great matter. What tormented me now was that I could not see my way how to speak privily with Ferris and to know whether he truly believed him self a drunken dreamer. That incubus had been his jest. He knew how the incubus was called, he had uttered its name in the dark. But did he understand I had indeed been there? If he did, my talk could be only apology and excuse, and he, how could he answer me? Or, supposing him ignorant, why break it to him? He had said that I would lose no friend, and he had acted friendly by me since, yet I might still see him turn from me with disgust, or even put me out of the house. I thought of Nathan, and of the whisperings of the Voice. But the Voice was full of lies. I lay rubbing my butchered jaw.
It did strike me in the midst of these benighted musings that there was One whose judgement I should fear infinitely more than my friend's. The Jacob of the old pamphlet-reading days — who was come in his place? Until the night when I dispatched Walshe, and even after, I was wont to consider myself a good man. Caro had thought me quick to anger, but noble-hearted and upright. Yet I had not sorrowed for her as I ought. Other husbands were not so cold: again I saw Ferris bury his face in Joanna's old shift. This brought me back to the question — had I committed an act of filthy lust? I recalled the violent
flutter within me, and as I did so pleasure, that pimp to the Devil, suddenly spread in me like a stain: my prick stiffened and without thinking I put my hand to it.
I had my answer. I made myself unclench the hand and think of scraping boots, a task I detested, but it was a long time before my blood would he quiet. Shame festered inside me like the black vomit. There was one thing I could and would do, namely keep myself out of drink until Satan grew weary and the strength of it went down. I decided to write a letter to my mother, and did indeed write it in my fancy, and in this way gradually composed myself to sleep.
But the Evil One, being rich in snares, at once spread his nets for me sleeping. Ferris lay with me in the wood. He was amorous like a woman, took my hands and put them inside his clothes. From this I suddenly started awake almost dying, unable to hold off any longer. The thing was done while I was still drowsy and the pleasure, shot through with a flash of pain in my jaw, sharp in the extreme. For a long time afterwards, I lay afraid to go back to sleep, wherein there now lay a danger. I had an incubus of my own, and already it bade fair to master me.
FIFTEEN
Broken Men
When I finally went downstairs that day, I found Rebecca lying in wait for me as usual, full of questions about my health. I assured her that the toothache was gone and said I thought I could eat something now. She at once announced that she would bring me some of yesterday's pie of preserved fruits, 'So good it were a pity to have missed it', which she had saved expressly for me. I said that was very kind, and when she left the room I let my head droop forwards onto the table, thinking that wherever men and women lived together their desires cut away the ground each from under the other. It needed only for Ferris to fall amorous of Becs to make our misery complete. The notion afforded me a tight smile; I straightened up and it was thus that she found me on her return.
'I am right glad to see you merry,' she said. 'The Master and Mistress were saying what pain you had, for a good tooth too. Mistress said it was a shame.'
She had arranged the food on a pretty Dutch dish and brought some salep without being asked, setting the whole before me with a flourish. O child, I thought, look elsewhere, I am sold twice over. I said, in common politeness, that the pie seemed very good, and this was enough to bring on an ogle. Taking some of the salep, I carefully mumbled the piecrust into the left side of my mouth.
'Look, Sir.' She was holding something out to me: the tooth. I disliked seeing it in her hand, and took it from her only to lay it down by the side of the dish.
'It's sound as marble,' she said. 'Mister Chaperain said your teeth were all excellent.'
'Excellent!' I snorted.
'Are they not?'
'Does he think I gave myself a toothache, for the pleasure of seeing him?'
'O no, Sir. He meant only that you had good teeth.'
I knew myself churlish and wondered why she so grated upon me. Hoping someone would soon call her away, I took up the pie and nibbled at it, halting to ask, 'Where is everybody?'— this being as near as I could get to telling her I did not want her company.
'Mistress is gone to see Mistress Osgood.’ This Jane Osgood I had heard of more than once, a young wife with child and grown so huge it must be twins at least. The confinement being her first, she was horribly afraid.
'Is she brought abed?'
Rebecca shrugged. 'Mistress didn't say, but she's very near her time.'
'And Mister Ferris—?'
'Is here.'
I blinked.
'Working the press,' Becs explained. I had made an error in questioning her, for be the talk never so dull it gave her cause to stay. I therefore addressed myself to the pie and she at last tripped out of the room, casting a roguish eye backwards as she did so. There was a new boldness in her, and I sighed. 1646, thought I to myself, will be like the year before, a chaos. Chewing away in this humour, I let a morsel of the crust dig into my gum. My eyes watered and the fruit was sauced with blood.
'Jacob!' Ferris put his head round the door. I thought I saw pleasure in his looks. 'How long have you been up?'
'Not long.'
'Will you come out when you've eaten? To Paul's Cathedral?'
I nodded, flushing with happiness, and he sat down to wait with me. He need not have asked, for I counted it one of my best pastimes to walk in London with him. I sometimes ventured out alone, but
although there was much to admire, such as the markets, the churches, the palaces and the quays, yet the crush of people in some parts, especially down by the river, unnerved me, and I was forever in fear of pickpurses. Then there were what they called ditches and kennels but which any countryman would have called by their true name, moving cesspits, for the water could scarce crawl along for filth. All the streets were wet with more than rain, as the jerries were emptied into them, and a terrible stench breathed from the sweating, greenish stones. Even after weeks in town I marvelled at the way the inhabitants contrived to step over black vegetables, rotting cats and bubbling crusts of shit, seeming neither to see nor to smell them. Despite my distaste, however, I never lost the chance of seeing any new thing, and if Ferris were able to show me a famous building or two I felt I was growing in knowledge and, if not a native, might one day make a citizen of the place.
Near though it was, I had not yet been inside Paul's. The outing promised well, for Ferris seemed amused by my excitement and when in this mood he was often especially kind to me. I pushed aside the pie without finishing it.
It was as miserable a day as I have seen, dark and blustery. Most of the time we were shielded from the wind, for the houses were built on three or four storeys, each projecting further into the air than the one beneath it, so that in the end a mere crack of sky remained over head for light. I thought our progress was more like digging a mine under t
he earth than walking on top of it. Despite the cold there were still plenty of folk about. Many men, like ourselves, seemed going to the area around Paul's Churchyard, to the shops there, and some of these had a scholarly look, but others showed more boisterous, loud in their calls and whoops, running along fired by drink and folly. There were women, too: sutlers selling hot chestnuts and pasties from little stalls, others who hurried along, head down, who might perhaps be midwives, going to Mistress Osgood. Two of these stalked rapidly before us for the length of one street and their talk was borne back by the wind; I heard one say, 'She cannot be married for she cannot lie dry in her bed,' and the other reply, 'What! Sixteen years and
such a baby!' 'Aye,' says the first, 'and her mother says it is nothing but a trick ...'
I heard no more of this poor wretch. From time to time a foul smelling gust found its way through an alleyway or round a corner. I gaped to see a man ahead of us wearing four hats together, one atop the other, and somewhat perplexed as to how to keep them on.
'Is he a lunatic?' I asked.
Ferris laughed at me. "They are for sale.'
No sooner had we got free of this coney-warren than we were swallowed up in the scum of little shops around Paul's, many of them pasted up against the walls of the place itself, so that its fabric looked to be completely smothered. I stopped and said to Ferris, 'We had an engraving of this. It showed the whole. But where could the artist have stood?'
He considered. 'I don't know. There's nowhere I know of where you can see it complete.'
Puzzled, we made our way towards the booksellers, Ferris saying that we were come to do business though he would gladly take me into Paul's afterwards. He stepped into a kind of shack propped against the cathedral wall. Inside we found a young man of a sallow cast of countenance, whose hair was so black as to be near blue. He seemed hiding in the dark at the back, but stepped forward when he saw Ferris.
'Welcome. I've not seen you this year,' he said.
'I've been in the wars,' and my friend touched his cheek.
'More welcome, then.' They clapped each other on the shoulder. 'There are some new things here which might please,' he went on, 'will you do me the honour ...?' He bent to pull out some material from a stack of papers at the back. Ferris went forward and started to browse through it, frowning from time to time. Other customers stood here and there, unfolding maps or reading plays with a finger on the page, quietly mouthing the words. One tall sanguine gentle man seemed much taken with his reading matter and I determined to know what that might be, but on my coming closer he shut up the volume with a look of no good will towards me and held it to his chest as if to say, Go off impertinence, so I withdrew having seen
nought but the name of the author, one Aretino: I thought this might be a Spanish name, and the writer perhaps a monk. Repulsed by the tall gentleman, I examined the contents of the shelf behind the counter, mostly sermons and political pamphlets, but without recognising any of the titles.
''Liberty No Sin,’ I heard my friend say. 'Please you to wrap it/There was a rustling as his purchase was stowed against the wind.
'Will you come and dine with us as you used?' Ferris asked.
I looked up. The young man hesitated. 'I— I have wived since you left.'
Ferris shrugged. 'No reason not to come.'
'And my father died.'
'I am heartily sorry to—'
'He left me the shop. Here I stay, now.'
'Not even a cup of wine between friends.' Ferris smiled ruefully. He raised his hat to the man, who blushed. We went out into the darkening day. Outside he turned his back to the wind and carefully inserted the thin package between his shirt and coat, then swore. 'I forgot to ask him about paper.'
'We can go back.'
'Too late,' he said. 'Too late altogether. Shall we go into Paul's?'
I dithered. It was so cold that I most of all wanted to go home, but I might not get another chance to see the place with him.
'We can come again,' he said, seeing me hesitate. 'Now, there's something I want from the New Exchange.'
I lumbered unwillingly along by his side. When we got there, however, there was so much to be seen that I asked Ferris if I might wander at large. He at once agreed and I had the impression that he was glad to be rid of me awhile. Having seen all the jewels, stockings, pots of perfume and stacks of books, I came back to find him clutching a roll of paper as well as his precious Liberty No Sin.
'What might that be?' I asked.
A secret just now.'
We again burrowed into the maze of streets and alleys, their stones now slippery with drizzle. It was like the reign of Old Night: steps rang out long before the eye could discern any human form and I
tensed each time a man passed us in the way, my heart labouring under all my accustomed fear of footpads. I thought how strange it was that my size availed me nothing against this dread. In the darkness I almost took a pratfall, having trodden in something both brittle and slimy the feel of which on my shoe made me shudder. I was loath to examine the mess and walked on dragging one foot a little.
At the end of the street shone a faint amber light and I heard the clink and hum of a tavern. A man stood in the doorway spitting and seemingly looking out for someone.
'Eh, Christopher!'
'Daniel, my lad!’ Ferris ran up to embrace him.
'You'll take some canary with us, f-friend?' Daniel asked me over Ferris's shoulder. He put me in mind of a carrot-haired owl, but his face, despite the gloss of drink upon it, was humane and spirited. As soon as Ferris released him he seized my hand and pumped it up and down.
'This is Jacob Cullen,' Ferris said. ‘And no, lad, it grieves me but we must go back. My aunt awaits us. But how have you been living?'
The man sighed. 'I wasn't meant for a stool-arsed Jack. The fencing school — now that was an occupation.'
'Why don't you—' I stopped. Ferris and Daniel were both looking down. I followed their eyes and saw what I had not perceived earlier owing to the gloom: Daniel's left leg was of wood.
'I beg your pardon, sir. I hadn't remarked—'
He clapped me on the arm. ‘And why should you!'
'So, no more swords,' Ferris said. 'But can you handle a spade?'
'Don't know, I never did before.' Daniel roared with laughter. I wondered how far gone he was in drink.
'I propose to dig the commons and raise crops.'
Ah, we're onto that, are we?' Daniel clutched at my sleeve. ‘Are you another one?'
Another—?'
Another dreamer.' He turned to Ferris. 'Your man is Richard Parr. Mad as the man in the moon.'
'He wants to start a colony?'
'Not his own, perhaps; but he'd go along with yours. Able bodied, but poor. Lodges at Twentyman's.'
'I know it.' Ferris's look was gone inward. He roused himself to ask, 'Will you come and eat with us, Dan?'
'No, thank you kindly.’ The man's eyes glistened. 'Too f-far on this leg.'
"Then shall we come one day and see the new babe?'
'When you will.' But he seemed now not to want us. I expressed likewise a wish to have his company at some future date and we left him. Passing up the street I heard some men within roaring out the ballad of the 'Mercenary Soldier'.
'I come not forth to do my country good, I come to rob and take my fill of pleasure ...'
"The rain's stopped,' Ferris said. It was thin comfort, for the streets were darker than ever and the air nipped my flushed cheeks. We walked on some yards without speaking, until I asked, 'Will Dan stay there all night?'
"They ought not to let him, if the landlord wants to keep his licence.'
'I never thought of you having a toper for a friend,’ I said.
'What, you don't think I've ever been in a tavern, neither?' He laughed, but stopped and went on more soberly, 'Dan was no toper when first I knew him.'
These broken men, I thought, are everywhere. Who will gather them up and mend them
?
Rebecca opened the door. 'I took you for the Mistress,' she cried on seeing us. 'She won't stay much longer, surely?' She hurried back to the kitchen whence issued a strong smell of roast goose.
'Mistress Osgood must be brought abed,' said Ferris. He shuddered at the warmth as he unfastened his coat and laid the parcel from Paul's Churchyard on the table. I stood before the fire, crushing my purple hands together and thanking God for the comfort of coal on such a bitter night.
Ferris picked at the parcel, hissing with annoyance. 'My fingers are too cold.'
'Mine also.'
'We should get us dogskin gloves.’ At last he was able to peel back the outer wrapping. "There! A treasure revealed.'
Liberty No Sin looked a strange enough treasure, showing Adam and Eve but without their coats of leaves, standing to face the reader naked and unashamed on either side of a spade planted upright in the ground. The handle of this spade seemed to have taken life and spread into a goodly tree. Indeed no such tree was ever seen, unless it were that Papistical tree at Glastonbury that the cunning monks professed sprung from the staff of Joseph of Arimathea, for this spade-tree had fruit and flowers together on the branch. I knew at once what manner of reading I was in for, and groaned inwardly.
Ferris saw it. 'Wormwood, eh?'
He could not hide his disappointment, and I was at once ashamed of myself and my stubbornness.
'We'll read it together, as soon as it please you to start,' I said, and he brightened directly, and said we would get warm first. He took the other package, the scroll, and stored it carefully within the bookcase, locking it after.
'So will you tell me what that is?' I asked.
'I have told you, a secret for now.'
He stuck his head out of the door and called downstairs for Rebecca, who came, poor girl, as promptly as she always did, and embarrassed me again, for she fairly ate me up with her eyes before she looked at Ferris. I remembered that I had left her special offering of pie unfinished, and blushed, and could then have kicked myself to think what interpretation she might put on my reddening cheeks, and so blushed worse.
