Дорис Лессинг – The Marriages Between Zones 3, 4 and 5 (страница 21)
We could not hear the words.
Feeling our eyes on them they stopped, and looked up. We drew back out of sight.
‘We must wait,’ said Al·Ith.
We sat down. Of course we hoped to know more about her visits to the other Zone, but did not want to say anything that would bring the shadow down over her again.
She knew what we were thinking, and with a sigh, met us.
‘It is very hard to describe it,’ she said courageously, and we saw the animation had left her. ‘It is easy to describe it outwardly. Everything in it is for war. Fighting. It is a poor place. We have nothing in our realm to compare with it. As for the spirit of the people …’ She was faltering, with pauses between words. Again we recognized that she was in the grip of something. ‘War. Fighting. Men … every man in the whole realm is in the army …’ She tailed off, silent. She had virtually stopped breathing. ‘Every man in uniform …’ She stopped again, and her eyes lost all their lustre while she went deep inside herself. As for us we sat absolutely still.
‘An economy entirely geared to war … but there is not much war … hardly any fighting … yet every man a soldier from birth till death …’
Again the tight silence, and she sitting there, straight and tense, eyes blank. She was rocking back and forth, on her cushion.
‘A country for war … but no war … they are bound by a hard, strict Law … their Law is hard indeed … war. Men … all men for fighting … but no war, no wars to fight …
The tension in her was frightening to see. An elderly woman who had been watching her keenly now went forward, sat by her, and began to soothe her, stroking her arms and shoulders. ‘That’s enough, Al·Ith.
‘What is it?’ she said to us, in a whisper.
The woman who held her said, ‘It will come to you. Quieten yourself.’
Al·Ith smiled and nodded at the woman, who went back to her place and said, ‘The best thing we can do is to keep the thought whole in our minds and let it grow.’ Al·Ith nodded again.
That was the end of the hard part of the Council. Murti· brought in a tray of jugs with fruit juices, and went out to bring in some light food. She then joined us, sitting by her sister.
And then the little girls came in. They seemed disappointed.
They stood before Al·Ith and Murti· and Greena said, ‘We played it. Over and over. We could not remember. But there are words that come after. We have remembered that.’
Al·Ith nodded. ‘Never mind.’
‘Shall we play the game when we get home again and see if we remember then?’
‘Please do … and I have had an idea … ‘ All of us were alert, thinking she had achieved the understanding that had eluded her, but she smiled and said, ‘No. I am afraid not. But I have had a good idea. We shall have a festival. Soon. And it will be for songs, and stories — no, not the way we always have them. This one will be for songs and stories we have forgotten. Or half forgotten. All the regions will send in their storytellers and singers, and their Memories … ‘ Here she smiled at me, to soften it, and said, ‘Lusik, it seems to me that you have all been remiss. How is it that children can play games and know that verses have been forgotten?’
I accepted it. Of course it was true.
Shortly after, we all went home.
Now I take up the tale again, not from firsthand, as is my remembrance of the events of the Council Chamber, but pieced together the best way I can, as Chronicler.
The sisters went up to Al·Ith’s apartments, where Al·Ith said she was tired: this pregnancy was already proving more taxing than her others. She had set in train the events that were necessary, and now she wanted to retire for a few days and rest.
Murti· was concerned for her.
The two beautiful women sat hand in hand in the window that overlooked the western mountains. Al·Ith said she wanted to go up to the spire again, but Murti· asked her not to go. Al·Ith submitted. Usually, at such moments of relaxation the women would have petted each other, done each other’s hair, tried on each other’s dresses, planned new ones, discussed what innovations and developments they had noticed in the clothes of the girls and women who had been present that day, in case any might be useful to clothing generally. These were true sisters, with the same Mother, the same Gene-Father, and even sharing the same Mind-Fathers. There had never been secrets between them. Now Al·Ith said, ‘You are right to feel hurt. I can’t help it.’ Murti· kissed her and went away.
Al·Ith had not been home a full day when she knew she had to return to Ben Ata. The words came into her mind: The drum is beating. She even heard the drum, faint, but there. She put her hand to cup her lower belly, thinking she heard that small heart but it was the drum.
She went through her cupboards, this time trying to find clothes that would soothe and please Ben Ata. She put together some of these and ran down to the first floor where she would leave a message for Murti·.
There were five persons coming up the great stairs, to see her: a girl just out of childhood, her Gene-Father, and three of her Mind-Fathers. Al·Ith was her mother.
There was a problem to do with this girl, but it is not of concern here. This event is being related because just at the time when Al·Ith was in mind already on her way to Ben Ata, with all the disturbance and adjustment this meant, she had to go aside to a quiet room, with a man with whom she had had, and for years, a close friendship, the child’s real father, and three men who had been as close, but whom she had not seen for some time, as it happened, because they had been in distant parts of the country.
The room was off the main Council room, and had the usual cushions and low tables. Al·Ith embraced the girl, and held her close, and then kept her beside her when they sat down. But almost at once she felt her own churning emotions communicate themselves to the girl, and this she could not allow: she quickly got up and sat apart from her, and the girl felt she was being disliked, and sat with an unhappy face turned away from her mother. This disturbed Al·Ith even more.
These six persons, woman, four men, and the girl, had often been together thus. And Al·Ith had very often been with the men, all together or singly. These men were among the closest people to her, not even excepting her sister. It was not possible for her now to shut them out, even for her own protection. She was quite open to them, just as she was at the same time open to the demands of Ben Ata, which were claiming her fiercely. She was trembling.
The men all embraced her, and sat close. They congratulated her on the new pregnancy. All the time she was looking, and feeling, worse.
‘You are ill,’ said the girl’s real father, Kunzor, and Al·Ith said she was, she could not help it, she was sorry. And she fainted clean away.
They called Murti·, who explained that Al·Ith’s state of mind was beyond anything they were likely to understand. Murti· undertook to stand in for Al·Ith on this occasion and set herself to be kind to the poor girl, who was astounding them all by wringing her hands and saying that ‘it was her fault’ her mother was ill. This struck them as a sort of lunacy: they had never heard anything like it.
When Al·Ith came to herself, she was attended only by Kunzor, who was trying to understand her. He had known her in many complex ways, but this was entirely beyond him. Al·Ith weeping and distraught was something he had never imagined possible.
She said she had to get on her horse and go, and he took her down the steps to the square, called for Yori, and saw her ride off.
It did not help that it was early night when she reached the plain, and had to ride in the face of the cold wind from the east all the way to the frontier.
She hoped that it would be Ben Ata at the frontier to meet her, and it was. He sat cold and silent, in his black army cloak, waiting, gazing up the road, pale, intent, fixed.
At the first sight of him, her spirits sank. What had happened within her was that riding across the plain in the bitter wind, comforted only by the warmth of her horse, she had been thinking of the long friendship she had known with Kunzor, and the men whom she had been close to—she was already wondering about these words that people used. She had, in the past, not used words, not even in her mind. She had
Seeing him there, the bonds in her flesh and being with the men who sustained her in Zone Three snapped and left her vulnerable.