McCann, Maria - As Meat Loves Salt

by Balefanio

  // seems these are sad times for us all. I have to tell you that he is hurt in the leg with a scythe and the cut is grown very hot and has set up a fever in him, so it falls to me to open letters and to reply to yours. I have taken it upon me to conceal her condition from him. He is too weak and irrational to grasp it; besides, should the truth reach him we might have his death to answer for, while if he be left in peace and given his rest I feel persuaded he will soon befit to return to London. Do not write again until I send word. Directly he is strong enough I will bring him. O thou good and faithful servant! Both Aunt and yourself have my prayers night and day. Believe that I hold myself your debtor,

  Jacob Cullen

  My fingers could scarce grip for sweat, and though I sanded the paper, still it showed all spattered where I had handled the pen like a ploughman.

  'Here,' I said to the man as I directed it to Mistress Rebecca, at Snapman's, Cheapside. 'Let that go tomorrow. When will it arrive?'

  He scratched his head. 'Not later than noon.'

  I drank up the rest of the wine and pushed my way out again into the dazzling sun. My steps were unsteady, and my thoughts were as a cud that the cow chews on over and over.

  There was a surging in my ears.

  With money a man lives free, whispered the Voice. There are places on the south bank where a man may purchase a boy—

  I will purchase none.

  No? We must find you a slender yellow-haired lad.

  It faded in laughter.

  I walked on, my eyes on the stones before my feet. Whenever I looked up the fields quivered in the heat. A shimmering pool of water lay in the dip of the road, where there had been none before; it faded to dust as I came closer to it. Perhaps I would sink to the purchase of love, as the Voice said. Once such things have been tasted, how can a

  man say, So far and no further? Unless he had that iron resolve that will leave off food and drink sooner than break vow once taken.

  But I could end my misery at the colony. Ferris should never read his letter, and in a few days our slatternly village should be scattered to the winds.

  And I? Where should I be?

  THIRTY

  Unsealing

  Why SO late?' Ferris demanded. 'It is near dark! We went seeking you on the road!' He pounded his fist into the palm of his hand. The others stood around scratching their heads.

  'I was taken ill,' I answered. 'I had to lie under a hedge and rest.' In fact, I had been sleeping off the Rhenish, and had woken hours later feeling all the better for my indulgence. Facing him now, I was almost well, my flesh soothed by the cool evening air.

  'And that is all?' He turned on me, sensing something. I felt, rather than saw, Susannah and Jonathan stiffen. Whether they feared for him if it came to blows, or disliked it when their saint stamped about and looked ugly, I was unsure. Ugly he certainly looked, his face flushed and eyes pinched up with suspicion.

  'Brother Christopher, be calm,' urged Catherine. 'Jacob has been unwell all day.'

  He hissed, 'You are trying what you can to fright me. This is noth­ing but craft.'

  'Craft, going for a letter?' I asked. 'Whose craft?' and saw his eyes flash. 'Have a care, Brother Christopher,' I said. 'Govern your wrath. That has ever been your counsel to me.’

  Ferris was in such a passion as only I, of all the colonists, had seen before. he stepped up to me, making fists of his hands.

  'Don't think I'm too sick to hit back,' I said.

  He paused, glowering but not daring to strike.

  'Well,' I asked, loud enough for the others to hear, 'do you want everyone to see you knocked into the ditch?'

  'Brother Christopher, beware!’ cried out Caro.

  Ferris could well have done without that cry. Pushing his way be­tween Jonathan and Catherine, he strode over to his hut and began throwing things about.

  'Go and clear up in the dairy,' said Susannah to Catherine and Hathersage. 'And take Sister Jane with you.'

  'I can help Brother Christopher,' whined my wife. Susannah grabbed her by the hand and took her by force over to Hathersage. Jeremiah had already begun walking away, and could be heard whis­tling softly in the dusk.

  'There's more than a walk wrong here,' said a gentle voice. I turned to see Jonathan, and beside him, Hepsibah. He went on, 'What's ado, Jacob? Since you came back from London, everything jars between you and him.'

  'That's just it,' I answered. 'Everything jars.'

  'But you will make it up?' asked Hepsibah.

  I shook my head.

  After a pause she said, 'Will you have more valerian?'

  'Thank you, I am much better now the heat is gone off.'

  They smiled awkwardly.

  'You have only to ask,' said Hepsibah, turning to go.

  Aye.'

  I was alone. I looked about me and saw a lucky thing: in the ex­citement of seeing two of the Brothers almost come to blows, the diggers had left their spades in the ditch.

  The path to the hidden place (I would have called it the secret place, but that it was no longer) showed in the fading light like a crease in the bushes. Carrying a spade, I picked my way between branches, re­calling that recent visit when I had discovered just what a fool he had made of me. The punctures in my arm began to throb, as if remember­ing also.

  I wondered had Ferris and Caro been back to their ferny bed that day. Brother Christopher, beware. Soon she would betray the two of them by playing with his fingers in company, or pushing the hair back from his forehead, and after that the rest of the colonists would natu­rally expect a betrothal. The secrecy in which her loves were conducted

  at present was sure to suit Caro. But what of this leader who carried on an amour by stealth? Did she find nothing lacking in her Brother Christopher?

  The bush was thicker than when last I had lain there with him. I crawled beneath and found the grass freshly crushed, giving off the perfume of that day when I let him do whatever he would. I heard again his tender, astonished laugh and some words I had stored in my heart ever since.

  He laughs with her, now.

  I felt a pain in my chest.

  Silence them.

  I took the spade and tried to stand upright. It was more difficult than I had reckoned, for the bush was too close to the ground, so that a shovel would have been more useful. Pressing back the branches with my shoulders, I at last straightened up, got some purchase on the lug, and drove it into the ground with my heel. The money was buried just where the base of the bush broke the soil. Almost at once I felt a resistance to the blade, and threw the tool aside to grope with my hands. In a very short time I had the box. It was smaller than I remembered. He had wrapped it in linen so that beneath the cloth it was damp, but clean of soil. I drew up the key on the ribbon round my neck and fumbled for the keyhole. The thing opened easily, and I groped inside. Something pricked the pad of my first finger. I jumped, and it fell away from my hand and rattled among the coins. Putting the finger to my lips I tasted blood. Best not bleed on the papers: I closed the lid again, locked it and slipped the key down my shirt. The box went there, too, for none would see it in the near darkness as I crossed to my hut. I flung the spade away from me and heard it slash through leaves before hitting the earth. I would never use it again. The colonists should wake and not find me; by the time Ferris discovered his treasures rifled I would be on the London road.

  Someone, a woman most likely, was calling my name. I stopped in the darkened path. The fools must be out searching for me, under some mistaken notion that I was wandered away in a fever. I went on slowly, not wanting to catch a bramble stalk in the eye. Let them disperse to their huts, not come crowding round me, perhaps to notice the bulge under my shirt.

  There were more shouts, angry ones, and it came to me that Ferris might have quarrelled with another colonist. I pressed forward more rapidly now, and as I came through a thickly ivied stretch of path I saw the cooking fire. But it was in the wrong place, and as I tried to understand how this cou
ld be, two black shapes ran through it. There followed a shot and a scream. I froze, unable to move or even think except for the one terrible thought which filled earth and sky: our friend had mistaken his dates, or Sir George's plan was altered. The day of reckoning was upon Ferris, and I was still here, to witness it.

  Panting, I struggled forward as fast as I could towards the edge of the wood. Just as I came to where the trees thinned into shrubs, a brilliance out of Sodom and Gomorrah sprang up in the cornfield be­hind the huts, everything nearer to me showing black against it. I had been right, the corn was too dry, and a breeze took the flames so that soon all the field was alight and crackling, a sea of fire. Getting onto a tree stymp, I saw we were completely overrun. They moved waist high in the smoke as if born of it, men armed with swords, muskets, clubs, dragging the colonists out of their shelters. Three of our people stood holding hands together, turning like poor sheep first this way, then that. I saw them prodded with staves, forced to kneel, and heard the coarse shouts of their tormentors. In the midst of the cries, again, someone calling 'Jacob'. Ferris was nowhere to be seen.

  Men were kicking down the huts. I saw the door of mine pulled open and the contents ransacked before the thing was levelled to the ground. The destroyers then moved towards Ferris's dwelling. I held my breath, but he was not there. His possessions were tossed out and the men began snatching at this and that - I saw one man bundle up a shirt and stuff it down his breeches - before firing the bedstraw.

  The dairy was next attacked, and I heard loud crashes as clubs broke up the marble. The cloth from the planks soared upwards in sparks like a prophet's cloak, then the planks themselves took fire and the whole thing slowly collapsed inwards. A sudden flare distracted my eye, followed by a spitting sound: the tent was in flames. A woman came running out of it. I could see men leading away our cattle, and shattering the ox-cart wheels with clubs. Bales of burning straw lay about, lighting up a man's face or hands and adding to the suffocating waves of smoke now belching from the cornfield.

  Something thudded through the trees on my right. I whipped around and saw the back of Jeremiah, running. A black figure detached itself from the group who were demolishing huts and came hurtling after him. I ducked as the man approached the wood, and heard his hoard breathing as he pushed after his quarry. Then he stopped some yards away. There was a click, and a scuffle of leaves as he steadied his feet. When the gun went off someone screamed, but whether it was Jeremiah or somebody near the huts I could not tell.

  A woman was shrieking, 'Christ help us, Christ help us.' She came stumbling from behind a hut as if drunk, and I saw the child, a black bundle against the fire. A man was in pursuit, and as I watched he caught at the back of her gown, swung her round and ripped the babe from her arms, casting it violently away. There was a terrified scream from the child and I heard Caro shriek, 'Christopher, Christopher,' and then 'Jacob,' the knowledge of me wrung from her at last. Her cry was choked off as one of the men swung a club against the small of her back. I watched as my wife sank to the ground and her attacker bent to remove the purse at her belt. The child I could scarce see except as a heap of clothes, which might or might not be moving. O if it were mine—

  Know it is not yours but your brother's bastard.

  A man from the small group of colonists, who had all of them knelt helplessly until now, rose and started towards Caro. From his stocky build and the woman clinging to his arm, trying to hold him back, I knew him for Jonathan. He was laid low by a club before he could shake her off, and two of Sir George's men brought down their sticks as if on vermin as he rolled on the ground. Hepsibah tried to shield him from the blows but was wrenched away. Another man, still on his knees, lifted his hands as if to pray. I guessed this must be Hathersage. He was seized by the hair and a group of men lugged him over the ground and out of my view.

  What I saw next gave my heart such a stab that I feared to drop. I recognised at once the graceful runner leaping the bales as he went, arms and legs flickering black against the inferno that was our corn. There were three men after him, each bigger than himself but not as fast. I held my breath. He might escape into the wood, where— but he did not make for the wood. Instead, he went to Caro, pushing aside

  the thief who now looked to be ripping open the neck of her gown. Ferris tried to raise her then turned, seeing the child, and made as if he would pick it up. I closed my eyes, but forced myself to open them again. The three men had piled on top of him. Ferris was jerked up­right by his hair, and the man who had clubbed my wife, and was near as big as myself, leapt at him. Ferris lashed out and landed a blow, sur­prising me by his speed. But the other men were behind him, blocking any escape. His opponent had time to gather force and aim a punch that knocked his head back.

  I stood hands clenched, at any moment ready to run from the wood and lay about me. Fists went into his rubs and belly, doubling him up. I was clutching a branch, or I might have fallen senseless, so violent was the struggle within. Caro was creeping on hands and knees towards the child.

  All is meant. Did I not reveal it in a dream, the fire and the Devils that pulled him down?

  I saw the man strike home again and again, and Ferris unable to recover.

  He wishes for you now, My friend. There followed a laugh to splin­ter teeth.

  Ferris was staggering, too dazed to keep up his guard. The man turned him around a pushed him towards another of the group. A fist went into his nose or eye; I heard him cry out, and the men cheered. He raised his hands to his face and one of his tormentors kicked out at his spine, crumpling him. There was a pause in which they stood back and watched him struggle to stand upright. It seemed he was bleeding into his eyes, but he was still trying to fight back, and I saw one of them mimic his binded movements. They began knocking him from one man to the other, letting him find his feet for a few seconds and then starting again.

  They know who they deal with, gloated the Voice.

  I was weeping, muttering to myself, Enough! Enough, for the love of God! Yet I could not move towards him. The two devils furthest from me drew back to let through a horseman, come to enjoy the sport at close hand. He watched avidly, wriggling in the saddle, and I recog­nised the man of the perfume and the fingernails, he who had spat on Ferris.

  Caro, forgotten in the excitement, reached the child and began crawling away with it.

  Surrounded by four men, any one of whom outmatched him, Fer­ris was falling against them now, almost clinging to their fists. One tripped him and he sank to his hands and knees; another's boot cut into his mouth. Dropping to the ground, he curled into a ball, and they opened him up, and went for him again. I could not turn my eyes away but saw, and felt, every blow.

  The horseman suddenly looked up. Light from the burn­ing straw showed me his creamy, handsome face and his eyes were level with my own. They were full of a cruel ecstasy and it seemed to me that he saw me, and smiled in recognition, as who might say, Brother. Ferris lay completely still except that he jerked each time a man kicked him. The men paused, perhaps tired, and looked to their master for instruction. My breath came in great gasps. The horse­man pointed at Ferris's outstretched body and two of them bent to pick him up. His head hung backwards as if the neck were broken, and the breast of his shirt was all over blood. Stretched between the two men, he showed pitifully slight. I could not tell if he was alive or dead as they carried him away, one holding his hands and one his feet.

  The Brothers and Sisters were being driven off the land like cattle, with blows and screams. Caro was kicked until she got up from the grass, clutching the child to her, and was haled over to the small group where Jonathan still lay senseless. One of Sir George's men shouted an order and a thing figure was pushed forward to drag Jonathan by the feet. I thought I recognised Hathersage. Two of the women hastened to help from behind so that Jonathan's head should not trail in the dust, and thus the little group skirted the fires as they crossed the field.

  When all that noise had died away I
stood motionless, I cannot say how long, gazing on the ruined corn. There was not sound but the spit and crackle of fire. When I took my first step to leave the wood, my knees folded under me and I feel down. It was some minutes be­fore I could raise myself and make for the road. Looking neither to my right nor my left, I crossed the camp, staggering as if I too had been beaten.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Treasures

  London was A charnel-house. The fairest streets brought no pleasure, for at every step I was mocked by a ghost. He crossed the road before me, turned down an alleyway or stepped into one tav­ern door as I came out by another.

  I wandered about the familiar places, always fetching up outside a certain house in Cheapside where I dared not knock. I thought of Aunt lying stricken, impatient for a last look at her darling, her lamb, and I told myself he had most likely survived, and was even now turn­ing the corner. Once, I walked behind him the full length of a lane before he turned and showed himself an impostor. As I went back the other way a group of gentlemen passed by, and in their laughter was mingled that of the Voice.

  The city was grown cruel; I was glad to slip its jaws and go, go as far as might be. That meant a ship, and should the ship come to grief, I would end all my grief as I began it, in a drowning.

  I purchased a place in the Southampton coach. There remained to me one last day in London, and I spent it lying in wait at the road's end in Cheapside, just in case. While there was daylight it was more than I could do to come away. When it grew dark I at last returned to my lodging, and the next day rose before dawn to begin the first part of the journey.

  The coach smelt of mould and corruption; the other passengers were no more to me than the dead, and if one happened to address me I turned away. Soon I was troubled no more. We came out of London through one of the gates in the defensive walls.

  You know someone who helped make them.

  I never knew you, I answered. Looking back from the window of the coach, I saw forlorn streets, and houses crouched despairing under a meagre rain.

  On arrival at Southampton I sought a lodging near the quay, and above all one where I might have a room to myself. Every kind of company grated on me, but most intolerable was the merry sort.