The Marriages Between Zones 3, 4 and 5. Doris Lessing

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ soldierly and correct.

      It occurred to him that he was still alert and poised because his expectations of a chase, a pursuit, were not quieted in him: if there she sat, then he would not have to chase after her, poor draggled fugitive, across the marshes and puddles, with half the army after her, and he heading them all … so he let himself relax.

      He was not going to make the first move, or greet her. He did not want to greet her. He did not feel friendly in the slightest. He did not remember the moment of tenderness they had shared, and his present self could only have repudiated it … he had been standing there for some time. Minutes. She had made no move. He could see her face glimmering whitely there. That dreary dark dress of hers was of course absorbed by the night. He believed she might be sitting there hating him. He could smell now the damp breeze that always stirred just before dawn. He loved to be awakened by that little wind, which crept so softly over the earth, setting the bushes astir, bringing the smell of grass and water. When sleeping out on marches he always woke to it, contrasting it pleasantly with the rainy winds that drove across this flat land of his sometimes for weeks at a time … he had, without knowing he was going to, taken a few steps out and along the edge of the pool. He had not taken his sandals off at all, and now he was unable to walk quietly and surprise her. But still she said nothing. He had come up to her, past the seven silly jets of water, and up to the edge of the little terrace, before she turned her head, and remarked, ‘It is pleasant sitting here, Ben Ata.’

      ‘You didn’t sleep well, I see!’

      ‘I never sleep more than two hours, or three.’

      This annoyed him: of course she would be at home in the night — what else!

      As there was nothing else to do, he sat down on the dais, but on the edge of it, away from her.

      Now he could see that there were two horses under the spice trees, hers — the black one — and another, white: the black one he could see only because it stood very close to the other, making a black horse-shaped shadow against the white.

      ‘I see that in your country you have horses the way we have dogs!’

      ‘No, Ben Ata.’ He could hear from her voice — he could hardly see her face — that she was conciliatory, or even afraid? His blood did leap a little at the thought she was afraid, but lay subdued again. He heard himself sigh. A dismal weight seemed to press him down. All his elation had gone. He was sensing with the whole of him, his memories and his hopes too, how alien was this woman: how the strangeness of her did weigh him down, how she oppressed him. He was feverishly casting about in his memories for girls like this one, that he could match with her, to make some sort of guide for himself, for he really did intend to try and understand her. But there was nothing there remotely like her. Like his mother? Certainly not! She had been foolish — he supposed. But then he had not seen her, really, since he was seven and had been sent to the soldiers to train. His sisters? He had not seen them either since then, except for brief glimpses on trips home; and they had married far away on the outer reaches of the Zone. The wives of his officers? The point was, he could not remember being discommoded by a woman, and above all it was what this one did. She never reacted as his expectations dictated. He was as jumpy and edgy as a badly handled horse … horses again. He did not really like horses. Not that he remembered wondering before if he liked them or not, they were there.

      ‘Ben Ata, when I got up out of bed and came out here, I saw my horse standing here by the fountain. I thought he had not been properly looked after but it was not that. He was not hungry or thirsty …’

      He, and she, both heard the breath let slowly out of his lungs, not so much in exasperation as in sheer wonder at it all, a sort of stunned imposed patience.

      ‘… but he was disturbed in his mind and he had jumped out of the enclosure and come to try and find me. That is why I woke, I expect. But while I have been trying to find out exactly what’s wrong, it isn’t easy. I told him to go and fetch one of his friends from the enclosure …’

      He had let out his breath again: it was a cautious sigh.

      ‘I am surprised,’ said he, in a soft, tentative voice, as if trying out this new key in sarcasm, ‘that you didn’t go down to the stables and fetch the horse yourself.’

      ‘But, Ben Ata, you know that I cannot leave this place. Not without my shield. I am confined to the pavilions and the gardens. Otherwise the air of your Zone would make me very ill.’

      ‘All right, all right, I had forgotten. No, I hadn’t … but … oh, for goodness’ sake, do …’

      Oaths and expletives of all kinds were dying on his tongue, and he heard what he had said as if some foreigner had spoken.

      ‘He went off. It took some time, but he has brought this white horse with him. Do you know this horse?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘They came up the hill just before you came to stand in the door there. Now look, Ben Ata.’

      He could in fact see now that the two beasts stood quietly side by side, their heads hanging. They were the picture of despondency.

      ‘I shall go to them.’ And she was off down through the fountains on bare feet. He could see her easily now against the eastern sky. A vast greyness covered the land. Shreds of cloud sped past low overhead. He followed her, not at all willingly, and the two beasts, seeing her there, came together up from the trees and stood before her, their heads drooping. He watched her caress her black horse, and the white one; bend to speak to the white horse and the black one. He saw how she laid her hands on their damp slow flesh, and put her arms around their necks as she stood between them. Then she came away, and clapped her hands, once, and they turned and cantered off down the hill, both rising at the same moment in a great jump that took them over the stone walls of their corral.

      She turned to face him. He could now see her clearly. Her small face was very pale, and worried. Her hair was loose and damp down her shoulders, with a fine mist on it. By her mouth was the bruise. As he saw it the wildest need seized him to crush her to him — but not in lust or in love, far from it. A wave of brutality almost conquered him. But he felt her small hand in his, and he was utterly stupefied by it. Perhaps as a small child another had put a confiding friendly hand in his, and not since.

      He could not believe it! While he had been holding in impulses of pure disliking hostility, she put her hand in his, as if it was a natural thing to do. His own hand remained stiff and rejecting.

      She then hastened her pace and went on in front of him, past flowers, past the many jetting fountains, till she reached the raised round place where she sat, tucking her bare feet in under her skirt.

      His thoughts were all a riot of amazed expostulation. This great queen, this conquest — for he could not help feeling her being here as one — was more poor and plain than the girls who herded the deer.

      She looked straight up at him, insistent, troubled. ‘Ben Ata, there is something very wrong.’

      Again the heavy sigh from him. ‘If you say so.’

      ‘Yes. Yes, there is. Tell me, your herds, your animals, have there been reports of illness?’

      He now looked straight at her, serious, in thought. ‘Yes, there were reports. Wait though — no one seemed to know what was wrong.’

      ‘And the birth rate among them?’

      ‘It’s СКАЧАТЬ