CHAPTER XXIV: NINETY-FIVE OUT OF A HUNDRED

   Exiled seemed the wind of that dawn, without balconies, without knowing through which holes to penetrate. In the garden I felt the temptation to take my car. But like other mornings I preferred to first go to Hammerstone Bridge, to observe the festival of the last stars that soon would go to sleep. A blanket of clouds swung by the eastern wind carried them away and I could no longer distinguish them. At the impalpable light of dawn coming, the sky so veiled had a yellowish tinge and I still do not know why I believed it was a premonitory light. Something told me that this fourth day of October was not going to be a day like any other.

   In my morning walks still I  had not crossed Castle Road in direction to Havengrove Avenue. It might be that this street led into the avenue of the harbour and I was afraid to watch the same waters that earlier would have been infants in Rivers' Meet. But that morning I dared to take that long avenue and I began to think of intuition. I knew that when one’s heart is left free of fences, it goes down its meadows with as much light as reason and sometimes reads the immediate future without it being necessary to know of magic to do so; simply decoding the sheets which the contour of your present is writing to you.

  It was an aromatic dawn in the avenue of the harbour. My memories of that October are mixed fragrances of wet sidewalks and the sweet smell of freshly baked bread. The first workers were watering the streets and so as not to get wet, I went to the only piece of still waters-free avenue, the eastern sidewalk. And walking through it I came to the corner of Chamberlain Street. A perfume like a loving hand caressing your face came from some illuminated corner. The Shining Bread of Dawn is a bakery, which still exists, which also has a large café where one can eat. I came to it because I was attracted by the light in its windows and there I was a few minutes trapped. There was exhibited all kinds of bread and all kinds of cakes, and among them there was a chocolate and bitter orange brioche that was exactly equal to the one Olivia had brought to me on July 31. Perhaps she had bought it in that same bakery. I decided to enter and enjoy the pleasure of a coffee with that evocative brioche.

  At that time the customers were very few and there we were only two or three sober early risers. The orange jam, which melted in my mouth, took me for a few minutes back to the summer, to Bruce's tent and Olivia’s sunny smile and memories. With mine I was after two months without them, but at all times still with them. And although always fearing the return of the ghost of Nicholas Siddeley, so far their humble faces had been stronger. The jam spilled by the corners of my lips as a Kilmourne that bifurcated, reminding me of the smell of the earth, their outskirt of sun and gold, of silver and the river as another chocolate that slips under Meander Bridge, my eyes evoking the will-o'-the-wisps of St. Alban, without alders to hide them, my memories a panegyric in praise to Olivia Rivers and all she told me about her fellow mates. I could not stand it anymore. Two months later I was still remembering them every hour bathed in tears, feeling a renegade. Bitter brioche of October 4, another acre starless sunrise, with glares of loneliness and betrayal!

   Always dark and eerie the lights of Avalon Road, I arrived at the Thuban Star more dull than the weak lamp of my stained memories and with the same resolution of the last few months, I walked finally into its halls. That was a normal morning until 11. I was going to have my usual coffee with Richard when somebody knocked at the door. It was Samuel Weissmann asking if he could enter. Somewhat nervous I said he could. His calm steps, his circumspect look, his slanted eyes that watched me pondering something, even the brown of his coat, all together it troubled me.

− "I wanted to talk to you, Nicholas" –he began.

   And with obvious signs of restlessness, I responded with a new question.

− "Have you come to fire me?"

− "Of course not –and wanting to calm me down-: what has made you think that?"

− "Then you come to reprimand me somehow" –I said with certainty.

− "The company has prospered with the good work of Nicholas Siddeley these past two months. And if you're remembering how you convinced us to not build south of Arcade, remember that you offered some alternatives. No, I don't have to accuse you of anything. And if you're more relaxed, can I talk to you seriously?"−and when I nodded and asked him to sit, he continued−. Nicholas, how old do you think I am?"

   I always found it impossible to reply to that question. The truth is that I had a very bad calculation and a wrong number could offend him, so I asked:

− "60?"

− "I am older than 65.  And I suppose that you don’t know that I have a wife and three children: Joan, Susan (like my wife) and Samuel Junior, the youngest, which already is 30 years old."

− "Why are you telling me all this, Mr. Weissmann?"

− "Because I... don't know if I look like one, but I'm a human being. I wanted to talk to someone and now I wish I could do it with you. Lately I have a very good opinion of you."

− "Thank you."

− "See, Nicholas. I already have enough age to retire. But three years ago the temptation came to me of owning 50% of the shares of this company, and in an evil hour, I decided to lengthen my working time. And I had to convince my family, moreover, to make a sudden change of residence into this country. I did not dare to face a few years that I could end up feeling useless. That feeling that you're nearing the end made me deceive myself and lie to myself about the fundamental. And it is that I love my wife and I like my three children and I am not devoting then the time that I should. Answer me, please, honestly: what would you do in my case?"

− "If I had a wife and three children I would be with them at all times. I would like to see their growth, their needs, the development of their personality and everything else –I was being cautious. I didn't want to offend him−... money I have plenty already for my grandchildren and even my great-grandchildren. And the need to think on the vocation that has occupied me all my life would be disappearing. But I do not know, Mr. Weissmann, I don't want to offend you. Each case is different. I don't want to go through a period when I might feel useless, and as I have not experienced it, I don't know what I would do in your place."

− "As I have just said years ago I should have retired. But it stopped me not to know into whose hands to leave this company. I know that if I just retired, the Board of Directors would suggest a name, but in the time that I've been in the Thuban Star I have loved it so much that I did not want to go without knowing who will handle it. I wouldn’t like to see it in the hands of an upstart or someone not qualified. During these years I have been watching all my employees and did not find anyone to whom to hand over the baton."

− "Have you thought of Anne-Marie?" –I asked with security.

− "I have. And I know what you're thinking. But it does not scare me to know that not many women today preside over companies like this one. The day will come in which we might have in mind only he who is better trained. I was thinking about it carefully. But I do not see her fully prepared."

− "She might soon learn to direct what she still does not know. She is honest and ambitious. I think that her presidency will make this company prosper."

− "Perhaps. But I have another possibility. Looking at all, and ruled out that the company be presided over again by Norman or Harold, and not considering seriously the careerists Walter and Thaddeus, finally I found a suitable name: Nicholas Siddeley –I started−. I am offering you the Presidency of the Thuban Star."

   Temptation crushes you in its claws, but not enough, because it often makes the victim does not wish to escape, and condemns it. Several years later, and when I least expected it, the ambition of my youth was in my path like an ambush. I understood that if I rejected it all the life of Nicholas would have lacked sense. But if I accepted it... I saw my future as a ruin, as a skeleton, the grim face of loneliness, a river of gold with waters of mocking grin, of ruthless cold, troubled waves without twilight of calm. The children I would not have claimed me for life, encouraged me not to succumb to boredom, to an old age feeling useless with a book of life with golden pages that weren't but tinsel. I went back to the present and with a sigh I faced the expectant eyes of Samuel.

− "Until two months ago I would have said I accepted without hesitation..."

-"Until two months ago I would not have offered it to you. I don't want to offend you, Nicholas. Let’s see how I tell you this. Upon arrival I was surprised by two things about you. About one pleasantly. Even drunk you perfectly knew all the ins and outs of this business and in all its mazes you moved without problems. You had taken your work and much of the work of John Richmonds, whom I never met. What I was surprised disagreeably about I have already appointed it to you. For two years I saw you every day an alcoholic..."

− "Why didn’t you fire me?" –I asked.

− "Because even a drunk Nicholas gave us better benefit than a sober one, but inexperienced. I will say that you have a sense of direction even in heavy seas. At that time I already thought of you as the man in whose hands I should leave the business. But believe me: I would not have done it. In the conditions in which you were, I could not risk the government of this company at your helm."

− "I am an alcoholic, Mr. Weissmann. Why do you think now, if now you think so, that I will not drink again?"

− "That I do not know. But I've been watching you for two months. Whatever the reason, I see you sober, a helmsman who can wisely handle the ship, and entirely devoid of ambition."

− "And do you not believe that ambition is essential to preside over a company like this?"

− "I thought that it was, but seeing Nicholas Siddeley’s steps these last two months, now I think it isn’t.  To know how to run a business like this and thrive one must have intelligence, wisdom, knowledge, and a desire that instead of ambition I would call desire to benefit the other members of the company. And you have all these things. Finally –seeing me still in a labyrinth of uncertainty, he continued−, I do not expect you to give me an immediate answer. Take time to think it well. I could even sell you my shares. The Thuban Star would practically be yours."

   The man who ambitioned to preside over the company would never have been offered. The resurrected man who had no ambition was given a golden temptation. I could not accept but I could not say no in a rush. Samuel Weissmann was still there and something I had to answer him, but I was unable to find any words. I thought that maybe due to what had just happened I had understood this morning that the light was premonitory, and thought it was this that it heralded. That October 4 wasn't going to be a day like any other. Seeing me unable to say anything, it was he who spoke:

− "Nicholas, I would like to invite you to eat. I've been several times in The Golden Eagle, in Longborough Street. It specialises in the food of this country. When I arrived to this city I was spoken of some dishes in The Golden Eagle and I can say that it is better than what you can believe; I mostly prefer Sunday Roast. But there are dishes to choose. What would you think if I picked you up at one? You can devote this hour and a half to meditate and maybe by then I can already know what you have chosen."

− "I accept your invitation to eat. But I cannot promise you, Mr. Weissmann, that for then I have an answer prepared. I should say yes, but I don’t want to regret an acceptance or not in a rush."

− "I trust you. Remember: I will come to your office at 1 and you can finish work for today."

   He left giving a slam that reminded me the sound of a lock that closes abruptly. Something was closed. If I chose to preside over the company, I would be putting an end to the delusional dreams that had populated my soul the last two months. Their faces would blur; and when I imagined that they would disappear I felt I was suffocating. Again emptiness oppressed with its handful of absences. Desperate for a breath of air, I loosened my tie and came to the window and opened it wide. I began to watch what little could be seen behind the glass. Vicar’s End is actually a dead-end, with the only entrance in Castle Road. What my eyes saw was perhaps the rear doors of the tall buildings of Havengrove Avenue and its many windows or balconies. In one of them I saw a gentleman conversing with a blonde Lady in the balcony across the street. It seemed to me that love made mischief in all levels of life, and that as it was customary, would come sowing conflict. The dirty face of their damaged bricks came to the sordid pavement, obscured by ancient markings of the trash that was bleeding by the next container. I started to imagine myself presiding over the Thuban Star one day, and looking at the windows of Vicar´s End, then proud and arrogant, run into the silhouette of John, Luke, of any of them, needy and humiliated, poking around in their foul interior. I think that watching this dead end street I spent more than one hour, my thoughts an uncomfortable maze. It seemed that whatever I chose, I had no more alternatives than blind one of the arms of the river of my life. And still believing that the meander would not ever permit me to fork towards the Outskirt of the Torn Hand.

   With a sully and tangled mind, without mirrors, I didn't know how to orient it in this gibberish. And before 1 o’clock Samuel was there knocking on the door. He asked me if I had already decided something and I had to answer I hadn’t.

− "I do not know if you will find it enough, Mr. Weissmann –I said confused−, but still I have not anything clear.  I am at a crossroads in my life, trying to still find out who I am exactly. Honestly I must say that this afternoon you may not have an answer."

− "A man with ambition would have answered he accepted. You do not have greed, and among other things for that, I still think that preside over the Thuban would suit you well. I don't know what you will answer, but the fact that you hesitate is good at least to be convinced that I made the right decision. Let me at least during lunch update you a little about what would be your duties. To know them might help you make decisions later."

   We went out to the street. Watching the financial face of Avalon Road, it was hard not to recall that I came from that world. Yes, I knew perfectly who I had been. The right thing was not perhaps to meditate about who I would become, but about who I should be. It took me a few seconds to see that Samuel was speaking to me:

− "I was saying that I have my car parked here. But it's a short ride. What about walking a little?"

   I nodded and we went on foot. We turned into Castle Road and soon I saw Deanforest and all Newchapel’s opulent faces. For a few moments not even Hammerstone Bridge seemed ugly. The sun reflected on the Heatherling as a beaded gold on the chain of the rich river. They were several minutes, as we crossed Castle Road, in which I was tempted. Despite all the pain that I had accumulated those past two months in Deanforest, almost forgotten ambitions, but never extinguished, took me with unusual outburst. I imagined myself in my madness as the owner of all Newchapel, adorned of gold and sumptuous costumes, millionaire ruler of the vessel of the Thuban Star, the jewel in the crown that would embellish me, an emperor in an imaginary palace. And after a few steps, I saw again the only entrance of Vicar’s End, and evoked again the dirty image of the alley without paving that I could perceive from the window of my office. I was hardly listening to the words of Samuel, who was telling me something about his family. I guess I listened politely to him and sometimes coherently answered.

   But in the end we arrived at Longborough Street and as soon as we turned the corner I had a shock. In a chamfer on the angle in which the Eastern sidewalk joins Chamberlain Street, I saw from afar a beggar woman. From that distance I could only distinguish a long red hair, a face still young, and an orange dress with flowers. My heart leapt at the thought that it might be Lucy. All my golden dreams became a concern which for him who has lived it, Protch, I will tell you that it was as if the feelings were jumping drunk and I think that for a few seconds I blushed. Again I recalled her words at the beginning of August, images that hammered in my memory as a challenge: "When thou seest us, thou shalt know us". We moved down the street and I realized that it was not her, and now, years later, I can tell you that it was Sue, an experienced beggar woman, although she was still young, whose surname I didn’t know, similar to Lucy only from afar. It was not her, but I couldn't help but reproach me: "what would have happened, damn Nicholas, if it really had been Lucy? You let yourself be inebriated by bastard golden dreams, and when you finally see one of them, what will you do?" Still startled and embarrassed I found myself in the usual dilemma: not knowing whether I should give or not any alms. Samuel did not seem to realize and was talking about the corner across the street, where there was another trendy restaurant called The Silversmith, and explained to me that in it they served the best lamb in the city. He said that maybe another day we would eat there. But his fixed idea was The Golden Eagle, and finally we entered the lobby and we started to climb the wide staircase.

   The lights at a restaurant in fashion tend to be warm, seductive and profuse. In The Golden Eagle they were muffled, so it dazzled its golden paneling. Imitating gold, it was like crying in its polished wooden walls. One had the impression of being in a legendary cave, a cave where a few privateers had saved their treasure, who even had taken the trouble to defend it with a large dissected and overwhelming, enormous eagle in a corner, the fierce wings deployed with so much likelihood that they seemed about  to lift the flight. We were on the first floor, filled with a main dining room with many reserved areas. But it was crowded. We also tried on the upper floor. Same fortune. We decided to go back down and wait until there was a free table. But we weren't the only ones; there was a large queue of people who preceded us awaiting their turn to sit. It was a quarter to two and soon we noticed that at this rate we wouldn’t get a seat before half past two. I had no hurry; I was well beside the warmth of a fireplace on my right and the smell of meat excited in addition my gastric juices. But Samuel was impatient.

− "I should have remembered to make a reservation. I hardly believe it, but despite being the food of the country, everyone seems to have agreed to congregate here. And when we get to sit, the bustle will prevent us to talk about all we have to talk."

   Still uncomfortable, Samuel recommended that we waited for a few more minutes. You could see that he liked the food of the country. But after a quarter of an hour he suggested that we could try our luck in The Silversmith. He didn't like lamb too much, he told me, but he was sure that there would be more choice and the important thing was that we could talk calmly.

   We finally went down the stairs and came out of the restaurant. And there, in the corner, I knew at last that long exile road ended in a curve; because the last avenues of fate bent towards the dark alleys, of calamity or victory, and the hour was come. Oh you liar afternoon of October 4, of puzzling lights that were going to seal my fate! At least I would know if when I saw them, I should know them. This second time it was not an illusion of my senses. On the other side of the street, next to The Silversmith, was no longer the woman who looked like Lucy. Instead, sixty days later, there was, comfortably seated on the sidewalk and begging, one of them –I saw them again−, and precisely Luke. Poorly dressed and, according to all appearances, dirty and ragged, I saw that he had seen me and that it had taken him no time to recognize me. In a downpour of emotions, I was barely aware of the sound of the soft rain of Samuel’s words speaking to me:

− "Remember, Nicholas −he said. We were so close to Luke that I didn't know if he could hear us− that our goal now is to talk about whether you have made up your mind on what I suggested. You'd be the best president of the Thuban Star."

    But I barely listened to him. I was in the treacherous hands of the snares of fate. It was enough to see Luke’s face to drown in a terrible sea of doubts, to remember how much I loved him, to evoke the deep pain with which I left them all behind in a resolution which, right or wrong, then seemed the only alternative. In fact it was only five seconds. But on a sudden decision all my life depended. And I could not waste several minutes. Luke looked at me smiling; for him time had not passed and I was the same Nike as in August. My first doubt was eliminated: it was actually to know if I would be received with affection, without reproaches for the two months that have elapsed without having gone to visit them. His warm eyes made me think once again on whether I would be able to withstand his contempt one day, whether I would not lose therefore the seven, the little king, their burning land among bonfires, their river... If I greeted him I risked giving value to the only valuable thing to lose everything later. I also sensed that there would be no turning back, one step forward would make that all the gold that had dressed me for 29 years was evaporated, all my dreams of fortune dissolved into an unstoppable desire to die with them, down those very streets and the same indignities, sharing the scarce food and the real night cold.

    But so that you know how I reacted in the end, Protch, forgive me, but I prefer to tell you the story that Luke told that very afternoon at the camp. We're going there.

    The sun was shining still tireless when at last he came to the Torn Hand, about 4, but without me. Just five minutes to kiss his wife and his son and he brought the seven together next to his tent. Fortunately that afternoon they were all there. More fortunate than other days, Miguel and John had already returned and were devoted to carry the much-needed firewood for the night. Mistress Oakes and Olivia had needed all morning, but were already back. Bruce had had, as usual, a lucky day. Luke told them that he had something to tell and in less than ten minutes they were all gathered.

− "Dear mates, these past two months we have often remembered Nike and had many questions about how he would currently be living. We have missed him so much that we often conjectured and even on occasions we have reproached him for his long absence. So this afternoon I was doing my job in the center. I do not usually go there, as you know, but sometimes it is convenient to make some changes in routine. I finally stopped next to the bar The Silversmith, perhaps you know it, in Longborough Street. It was ten to two when I saw two men come out of The Golden Eagle, on the corner across the street. One of them was Nike. Then he realized that I had seen him and smiled at me with fear. With him came a man who for the words he addressed to Nike I assumed it was his boss at the company. What he told him was more or less an offer for Nike to preside over the Thuban Star. They were difficult seconds. I was this morning dirtier than usual and it was obvious what I was doing there and..."

− "What did Nike finally do?" -interrupted Miguel in a sharp tone. Luke told me that Lucy and Mistress Oakes smiled with some security.

− "What could he do, Miguel? What could he do? –he repeated− what would ninety-five out of a hundred have done, faced to the ambition of his life and before a beggar as dirty as I was?"

− "Oh, may the devil take him." –it was Miguel’s comment. And he began to move away.