Wednesday, 10 February 2016

CHAPTER XX: THE LITTLE KING

   August 6 was a day of challenges and sadness, cries and wonders, of sublime beauty and emotion mourned. A sleeve was falling off the old pillow of that paradise and when I got out of the tent the sun was static, maybe from there the word solstice comes, the pure light filling the Eden of those enriched poor people, bathing their humble land with gold, from which I was bound to be eclipsed. The light seemed a still life: apples and quinces. But the quinces were all covered by a diffuse light. The apples were an invocation to that Eden, juicy and evocative. It was 10 o'clock in the morning and they were all there. They seemed to have gathered in a circle around Mistress Oakes’ tent, and she heralded something and advised them calm, not to leave yet. They were all but Olivia, Lucy, Luke and Bruce, but the latter I saw coming from the river with a full bottle in his hand. Something he must have read in my face finding me opposite him, because the faithful friend seemed to understand that he would no longer swim with me. His pure heart must be suffering such desolation that he suddenly seemed to lose his balance. He bounced back immediately, but the bottle he was carrying in his hand suddenly shattered in front of Lucy and Luke’s tent. Instantly I saw Luke was startled and when he understood what had happened and after asking Bruce how he was, he became an improvised sweeper who removed all the crystals. But some of them must have remained. It could be a bad omen, but Mistress Oakes, who had also seen what had happened, turned and said:


− "Fear not, Luke. These crystals make no more sense than to become a mirror for one of us or can be the window cleaner that beautifies his future. Your child will be born well. Return with Lucy."

    At that point I had already learned even to light a bonfire. Not many efforts cost me rekindle a new one where it used to be lit, next to Olivia’s tent, for she had already prepared the firewood. I myself prepared coffee while I wondered uncomfortable what might be my parting words. At that time Olivia and Luke came out and gathered next to the others, on the threshold of Mistress Oakes’ tent. Now almost all of us were there. I had to say something now. I found a clearance, more or less in the same direction where I was placed the magical night of the stars. The sun dazzled me, straight on my face. A cloud of very fine wool was tearing the sky from north to south. I don't know why I wanted to see it as a gleam of hope. Lucy wasn’t there, and we would only have a few seconds until her mother and her husband returned with her. Almost without knowing which words to use, I began bitterly:

− "I wonder where I should start. I don't know how to thank you all for how well I have felt here these days, to the point that I’ve lived your outskirt as my home. It won't be easy now to regain the life I had. But I have to do it. I guess that I can’t live in a different way, and if the orientation is lost, one already knows that you'd better walk the ground you knew. Right now I'd like to stay with you one more month… perhaps much longer. I do not know very well who I am, but if there is something to forgive, forgive me. I can only promise you that if you wish, I will often come and see you –Now I had a broken heart, the one which was born there. Tears, rebellious and unstable, didn’t fall, perhaps because I was crying with all the other bodily humours−. I will hardly be able to say a few words, personally, to all of you, one by one, but I'll try: Mistress Oakes, I will feel your absence, and your way of reading me to reassure me and tell me where I should direct my compass needle. You can see that finally God-Fate knew, and you also knew, what alternatives I had, and knew that in the end I was leaving. But it would not be right to leave my grandmother here: I'll see what I can do to come and see you. Don't think badly of me."

− "Calm down, Nike −she said also with a crying face−, I will never do it. I am not going to make your road more painful with lack of confidence. On the contrary, go with my blessing."

− "Olivia. I'll see whether I am now able to find more Alices than jewelry. That I have learned of you. And you will have the biggest jewel in a few hours or a few days. Let Kirsten or Paul always find the prosperity of having you as a grandmother. May the light of Spica accompany them. And also take my deep affection to your daughter. Tell her I'll try to find out whether there are still any furrows in this old earth which so long has been asleep."

− "Bruce. I wish I could soon swim with you again −and in that precise moment his eyes and mine became lakes−. Remember that you must always swim close to the shore. I could not find a sentence that best summarizes everything that I would like to tell you. I know that probably you don't want to hear it, but thank you Bruce, thank you for everything."

− "Miguel. I will try not to turn my life into Carnival. I would think whether this man is free and prefers to remain naked. And I desire to be always a mortal. How much I've learned from you. I guess you think that now I'm going to throw everything away. But neither past nor future. I have to see what I can do with this bitter present"−I saw he would have liked to answer. Or he had expected better things from me. I was sorry to disappoint him.  But he should be noticing my pain and preferred not to answer me.

− "John. These days I've seen you a wizard of snakes and a priest of the stars. And always the great friend that I could have had. Yes. No wonder that your light must be immortal."

− "Perhaps not as a friend you arrived. But as a friend you are leaving. And you will always be. Take care of yourself, Nike."

− "Luke..." −But suddenly I had to stop. A sound of a well-known metal went down the last stones in the asphalt of Millers' Lane. I could not be deceived. It was Anne-Marie’s red Plymouth Superbird, which was already nine years old. She was a wonderful driver. Few would have dared with the slope climbing towards the Torn Hand. But then I knew that she, who had been there many times, was always able to park it on the high plateau. When I saw her arrive I finally lost my last hopes, damn rebellion which did not reach me, to stay there.

   When she came down from the car, so as not to cry, I looked everywhere. The clouds had evaporated and Telemachus walked restless to and fro, always close to Luke’s tent.

   She came down of the car in her superb white ermine dress. I saw her prettier than ever, vying with the morning. I had phoned her the day before and knew that she would come to pick me up. Since that time, I had thought what I could tell her. How to face her with a truth that could harm her. But even if I returned to my life, I knew that to her I could not return. I could be already hurting her. When she saw me, she came to me with a loving "Hi, Nike" and kissed my mouth. She then greeted John with an affectionate embrace. Later a cold “good morning" for Miguel and a warm "hello everybody" for the others. It was very simple, but it shook me to know that Anne-Marie used to know for years the people I had just met. With a warm "How are you?" she then turned to Olivia, whom she asked:

− And how is Lucy?" –she inquired with interest, but with a touch of reproach. The fact that they were going to have a child on the street she could not easily assume.

− "It is difficult to answer. I think that if it isn’t born today, it will be tomorrow. My granddaughter is already on her way. It was not possible for us to convince my daughter to go to a hospital. She always says that she was born here, and without too many problems, and that she wants my granddaughter to be born the same."

− "Then I will have to come another day to see her −a reticent cloud refused to retire from the sky awhile, only to project in her eyes, her greatest beauty. It was what I had always liked most in Anne-Marie. Blue they opened to make it echo, reflecting a second on the green of my eyes, until finally clouds, sea and my mirrors took different directions−.  Shall we go, Nike?"

− "Sit awhile, please Anne-Marie –I didn’t want to go yet. I seemed to be waiting for something. I knew that it was not the moment−. I will return to work tomorrow. What about, while sitting, I am able to catch up?"

   It was a weak excuse to stay longer. But she agreed. She sat on the threshold stone, to not stain her clothes, with the air of one who is accustomed to that danger but is very familiar with the peculiarities of this place.

   She was ten minutes telling me in detail the last business. I did not recognize myself. For years I would have preferred to have her speaking me of business so we didn't speak about love. I now preferred to talk even about love, not to hear of money and finance. Where was Nicholas Siddeley? When had I lost my ambition? On my side I heard John interested, intervening from time to time, until seeing me completely passive, ceased to pay attention. Miguel heard us with clear signs of jealousy and the reborn fear that one day John would leave him. Olivia and Luke were about to retire again. Just in time, because before they left we heard a startled scream from Lucy. We all stood up.

   With a gesture of determination, Mistress Oakes and Olivia went into the tent and the former beckoned o us to stay outside. Bruce, Miguel, John, Anne-Marie and I remained like salt statues, which would rather have moved or done something on the outside. I imagined Luke’s anxiety in those delicate minutes, not knowing what to do; hindering the improvised midwives, dying of nervousness inside, wanting to help, and not knowing how. Anne-Marie suddenly turned to me and told me:

− "It is madness that she has not wanted to go to a hospital. But let us wait, Nike, since we have gotten squarely in the cyclone. And if finally the mother needs it, my car will be available. "

   For Anne-Marie it was nonsense, everything was very strange in Lucy. Unless, I realized, that it was due to the disastrous influence of her husband. I did not answer. I thanked I could follow there in that moment. I had spent ten days waiting for the arrival of Kirsten or Paul, and finally now I would know who was about to come. I could even congratulate Lucy and Luke later. And Olivia, I thought, don't forget the grandmother. I really thought what I could tell them. But I was as nervous as if I was also living a transcendental moment in my life. But, with very few lights, I was able to remember his uncle James, who was not living it. By my side, another uneasy jumble seemed to go crazy. It was Telemachus, which I had forgotten.


 

   It has sometimes been seen as a daughter of Ra; sometimes a peaceful goddess transformed into a woman with a lioness head, Bastet was to be at the birth, always protecting pregnant women against evil spirits. The cat-goddess could have taken the body of Telemachus, which crazily hovered there while nobody paid it any attention, as fearful before the miracle as humanity is afraid of eclipses. Ra, sailing victorious at midday, surely lowered His eyes to see His seed, the deity of harmony and happiness. And thou shalt be happy.


 

   An earthquake would not have been noticed by the five souls that were waiting outside. The sun could have been extinguished, the river could have turned into lava, and our hearts showed the slow ticking of noon. It was of the eighth month the sixth day. When summer exhibited all its glorious clothes. August 6, twelve at noon, a star wanted to shine in the yellow of the day. Luke’s face was seen for a moment coming out of the tent in order to exclaim to everybody his happiness:

− "Paul has come."

   With no time to congratulate ourselves or to ask Luke about the health of the child or the mother, we saw his grandmother come out tearfully. She went into her tent just for a minute, in the vain hope that nobody saw her cry for the absence of her desired Kirsten, who had not wanted to come. But instantly she became strong and returned. Luke came out with little Paul in his arms and I, who had been in very few births, couldn't believe that I could witness that miracle. When I saw him, not knowing why, I threw myself into Olivia’s arms, when she returned, and I had to cry. Thus embraced, she cried with me her restless rivers and sobbing she became a stream of an enormous joy and love. The newly born was crying his eyes out. Luke put him immediately in his happy grandmother's arms. She had already recovered from that shock of fate, and cried too, but out of happiness. She surely remembered that bitter hour in a July 29 years ago, when she gave birth to her greatest joy. Once in her arms, little Paul must have felt the blood he came from and suddenly calmed:

− "You must be my grandmother –he seemed to be thinking−. And I know that I have to spend many hours in your company. I will try my best so you never cry again. If I am not the one you expected, also with me you will feel complete. And you'll see. When you play with me, you will laugh more than I. I promise you."

   It was difficult to say who he resembled. He reminded me more of Lucy. The same black eyes, her penetrating gaze, her superb surface, her mother-of-pearl skin. His hair would be one day the same brown as his father's. But in that hour of Paul’s dawn, proudly the haughty light shone in him, born in its perennial glory. Regulus was beginning to live. I... was beginning to die a little. All of us were crying for no reason; the deep well of my heart became a fountain. At that moment my waterfall found a deep precipice from which to jump terrified relentlessly towards a river of white water and a sea which it never could reach. Crying I saw how Lucy and Mistress Oakes came out of the tent. His mother was well. Incredibly she was able to walk to the river to drop the placenta. I don't know whether she reached the Kilmourne. But she returned immediately. Luke handed the baby proudly to his mother, so the little king could sleep his first weeping rested in the cradle of sincere love of his sovereign. How beautiful Lucy was in those moments, the first time I saw her without her belly. Her radiant face was the very sun that looked down to find out how the Earth had dressed one of its fellow stars. Her husband tenderly surrounded her with his arms. The snapshot of the three, the father, the mother, and the son of their hopes, broke my heart to create a hole for that photograph that I shall not forget as long as I live. I begged Anne-Marie not to leave yet and she, who also cried, allowed me to go on in that solar peace. Just then Luke had an idea: all of us should hold the little king, one by one. And he was then rocked by Mistress Oakes' tenderness, but Regulus cried again some inconsolable tears. Perhaps he was crying out of happiness, but so he was for ten minutes. Later in Bruce's arms he cried a few sweet tears, as if he felt the blood of this unknown man to be a friend's blood. In Miguel's arms he was again a tantrum, so John was next to hold him, and there his crying was like an undecided breeze that doesn't know whether it should keep on blowing, pleased that its star had found the exact cubicle from where he could safely send his first rays. John held him for a minute and tenderly took him to my arms. And to feel his warmth should be like the universe feeling one of its stars exploding and never knowing whether it can rebuild its harmony. I don't know what strange voice wanted to then take my mind, my spirit, my heart... It could be said that the soul of the millennia was conquering my throat, which knew that unless I spoke then, there would have been no time or space, no centuries of war and love heaped in their watches, no sand which could fill the coasts, no sun travelling from east to west. Nor there would have been more pages for Nike, or Nicholas, if I had not said what I said at that time:

− "Welcome to the world, you little king."

    You come to an Earth full of beauty... for them who are able to see it.

    And thou shalt be happy.

     Because you have the wisdom and the beauty of your parents,

     And the dignity of all their mates."

    Unaware that my blood had burst with those words, I did notice that at that moment the little king had stopped crying, as if he were talking to me too and he was saying: 'wait for me at each solstice and each equinox. You cannot live without me anymore or me without you. We only have to wait to recover both from this black hole. But I am not going to ever cry next to you. And remember that one day I will be waiting for you to teach me how to swim."

   Oh, Regulus. You brilliant and infinite light. How can I believe from now on that the universe rocks its music without you? How to look at noon again without your light? Who are you, you little tyrant with no hair, with so merciless rays? Where to search my heart if it is not at 12 of any midday of any summer, during those hours in which my Polaris keeps sleeping its blessed dream of hope in its resurrection? How can I believe that I can survive in a world where you are not?

   As in a last sparkle of sobriety, I remembered to hand him lovingly to Anne-Marie, who was also there that magic August 6. In her arms he cried again, as I noticed a different whimpering. Lucy and Luke shed their oceans gratefully, looking at me in recognition of my words, with their tearful lances meeting in the same flash. Both approached me trembling with red eyes, refusing to stop crying until I had not embraced them. Lucy preferred to kiss my cheek; Luke joined me in a heartfelt hug, and the friend who had not shown that he was a friend didn't know how to keep that friendship and fell to the ground, rather than sat, in that harmony with no balance. A moment later, by imitation, they seemed all to agree and sat down. And Anne-Marie again handed the star Regulus, I mean the little king, to his father. "Luke, my friend, you already have your wife's happiness and the happiness of your child on your lap, and I have to leave so that their brightness is always pure and crystalline, away from the friend who is not and does not want to smear you. You will be happier without me. Even when you might never know what happened to poor Nike, who had to leave and does not know whether he will return." I finally understood what the second half of my shadow was. I could not mix my earth with that earth and hope for no cracks to appear. Lucy, Luke and Paul were sacred. I would only be a constant trouble, one more crack in their road to happiness, that of the three, a moon that could only give shade, a stain on their star of the day which only moves to its aphelion. It would not be right to seek in your heat my perihelion. So you'd better know that now I must orbit, not knowing how I will be able, around other colder stars.

   I was sitting facing John, the only one perhaps that could see my face, again looking south. The others, east and north, around the new family, could not see me. Lucy maybe. Luke looked at his son, maybe finding some tender horizons in his crystals, which perhaps still without light, crossed the morning. Thinking that I would not see them again was the last axe blow in those days of one shock after another. A stream of bloody sweat probably fell down my cheeks. A heart eaten by one thousand ants must have protested, calling for a new life, through my eyes. I don't know if, though it wasn’t even raining, August cried, because on the ground there was a glass, as if its latest gift had to be a tear. But then a helping hand landed on my shoulders taking me for a second back to my south. John, making an effort for his voice to be heard in my deafness, was speaking to me:

− "Stand up a second, Nike. I want you to come to my tent. Before you go, I want to lend you a book, which I no longer use, about the stars."

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