A Maggot - John Fowles (41 page)

Q. How long did this rush, this roaring wind, sound?

A A few moments. Not more than it takes to count ten.

Q. Did it grow louder in that time?

A. As it fell from the heavens straight upon us.

Q. Not then as a flock of passing birds would, from
one side to the other?

A No, from above.

Q. You are most certain of this?

A. Certain as Christ.

Q. What next?

A. Of a sudden it stopped, and there was silence, and
in this pause there crept upon the air such a smell I cannot say, as
of new-mown meadows and summer flowers, that was most sweet, most
strange that it came not in their season, yet should spring from this
cold and barren place_ Then again of a great sudden there was a light
upon us from above, a light more large than any human making, as of a
sun, I know not, so bright I no sooner looked to it than I must look
down bedazzled, why, near blind of it; and there I saw, who stood not
fifteen paces from where we knelt, among the stones, a young man and
an old, that gazed upon us.

Q. I will not believe this. I warn thee, I am not to
be imposed upon.

A. I speak truth.

Q. No. Thou hast cunningly prepared this, to confound
me. Thou and thy prophesying man, I'll warrant he put thee to this
tale.

A. No, he did not. I have never yet told him.

Q. Yea or nay to that, still thou liest.

A. No. I tell thee I saw them, they stood little
further than this room is long. Tho' I saw them not well, for my eyes
were made blind by the light, as I say.

Q. In what posture were they?

A. They stood, and looked on us. The younger man a
little nearer, the older behind. And the younger stood with his
finger pointed up, as if towards the light, yet methought his eyes
did rest upon me.

Q. With what expression?

A. I could not truly tell, for the light went out
before I recovered my eyes.

Q. And the older?

A I saw not, save that he had a white beard.

Q. What clothes wore they?

A. The older I saw not. The younger an apron, as
masons and carpenters.

Q. You would say, he was ghost of the heathens who
built the temple?

A. He was dressed as a working-man today; as might my
own husband and father.

Q. Were they not painted figures?

A. No. They lived. They were no dream nor vision.

Q. Were they not most broad and tall?

A. No. Of ordinary figure.

Q. How long did this light last?

A. Very little. 'Twas nearer a lightning's flash than
light proper. Enough to glimpse, no more.

Q. To glimpse, when you are already blinded, yet you
may be so certain?

A. Yes.

Q. Were they not two of the standing stones?

A. No.

Q. Was there no thunder, no voice of Beelzebub?

A. No, not none. But as a gust of warmth, that was
sweetscented, as of summer fields, as I say, and more than sweet to
the nose, sweet to the spirit. When all else was vanished, it
remained. And I no more had fear, I knew this came not evilly, yea,
the rather to comfort and solace me. Yea, it came like another light
upon me, that what I feared, I feared no more. I felt more a sadness
it had come yet gone so fast that I could not embrace it, nor look
longer, with all my eyes. Yet must I cling to it in hope. For I tell
thee it meant no evil, nor those I was with, evil. Thee must
understand that.

Q. I understand one thing alone, I cannot believe
thee.

A. Thee shalt, when I have done. Thee shalt, I
promise thee.

Q, When I shall call spent mutton fresh lamb,
mistress, not before. Now I'll put thee closer to thy stinking meat.
Whence came this light thou hadst this vision by?

A. The sky above.

Q. Did it light all about? Turn night into day, as
the true sun does?

A. No, the night stayed dark beyond.

Q. Saw you candles and tapers in this great floating
lantern?

A No, 'twas white as the summer sun, shaped as a
rose, a circle.

Q. And hung in the sky above the temple?

A. Yes.

Q. And moved not?

A. No.

Q. How high above?

A. I cannot tell.

Q. As high as the sun and moon?

A. No, less. Not so high as those clouds above. As
upon St Paul's round roof.

Q. A hundred paces?

A. I tell thee I cannot tell.

Q. And how was this light so hung above, do you
suppose?

A. I know not, unless borne by some great bird.

Q. Or some great liar. This sound you speak of before
it shone out, you say first a rush of wings, next a roaring wind.
They are not the same.

A. I do not know to say it. Most of a passing wing.

Q. Or a whip on thy back? Thou shalt hear that too,
if I catch thee out. This pointing workman and his grandsire, carried
they aught?

A. No.

Q. His Lordship addressed them?

A. No, but did remove his hat.

Q. What is this? Removed his hat to a carpenter and
an old dotard?

A. 'Twas as I say.

Q. Made they no sign back? Showed they no mark of
respect to this courtesy he offered?

A. Not that I saw.

Q. And heard you, when the light went out, no
movement?

A. No.

Q. Nor could see them still standing there?

A. No, for I was still dazzled blind.

Q. Was there no sound above?

A. All was silent.

Q. And what made you of all this?

A. That his Lordship was other than I had come to
believe, as I say. For very soon after that he stood and helped me to
my feet; and took my hands and pressed them, as one who is grateful,
and looked me in the eyes, tho' it was darkness, and said, You are
she I have sought. On which he turned to Dick, who was stood also,
and they embraced, not as master and man, but as brothers might upon
some happy outcome to their affairs.

Q. They exchanged no signs?

A. Nothing but a clasping to each other's breast.

Q. And next?

A. His Lordship led us from the stones. There he
stopped and spake to me again, that I must not speak of what I had
seen this night. That it neither brought nor should bring harm to me,
I was not to fear what must seem so strange. Then he took and pressed
my hands again, most earnestly, it seemed to make proof this more
gentle manner he showed me was more his true self than that I had
known.

Q. What said you to this?

A. That I would not speak. To which he answered, Very
well, now go with Dick. And thus I went with him, while his Lordship
stayed. But before we were rid back to the inn, he came behind us, so
he stayed not long.

Q. Did you not ask him of what had happened?

A. He still rode some paces behind us for what short
distance we had yet to make. And there in the yard bade me goodnight,
and went to his room, leaving Dick his horse to unsaddle and stall.
And I went likewise to my room.

Q. Dick did not join you there, when he was done?

A I saw him not again that night.

Q. Very well. Now what of this - first that you told
Jones his Lordship did inform you of why you went to the temple, to
wit, that he should use you carnally there, in pursuance of a lewd
superstition; and further you told Jones of a blackamoor perched upon
a stone as if flown there like a great buzzard, ready to spring upon
thy carcass, of a stench of carrion, I know not what else, a most
satanick vision?

A. I lied.

Q. I lied, says she. I'll tell thee a truth of lying,
mistress. Who lies once will ever lie twice.

A. I lie not now. I am upon oath.

Q. Why didst thou so greatly lie to Jones?

A. Because I must, to blind him, that he should think
the worse of what was done, and dare not to speak, for fear he should
be thought part of it. I will tell in good place, and why I lied to
him.

Q. That you shall, I promise you. Now, that next day,
did his Lordship's manner to you seem changed?

A. Save that once as he rode, he turned and waited
until we came abreast of him, and then gave me a close look, and
asked me, All is well? And I replied yes, and would have spoke more,
but he turned and rode on, as it were to say, he would converse no
further.

Q. What thought you to what you maintain to have seen
among the stones?

A. That there lay some spell upon it, some great
mystery. That it was a sign, and yet meant no evil. I have told thee,
I knew no evil in it, nor fear.

Q. And what put you upon what you say his Lordship
said afterward: that you were she he had sought?

A. There was that in me that matched what he willed.

Q. To wit?

A. That I had sinned, and should sin no more.

Q. How is this - did he not keep you in sin and
lechery?

A. That I should see it the better.

Q. Then what he willed was not what we suppose: a
cure to his impotency?

A. What he sought was what came to pass.

Q. That a common whore shall provoke what passes
belief? Is not that your sense? This visitation is made upon you, not
him? Did he not kneel beside and below you?

Q. Such was seeming. I was there of his will, not
mine. I but served him.

Q. And who think you these two men to have been?

A. I shall not tell thee now.

Q Enough of these shufflings. You are before the law,
mistress, not at one of your prophetick meetings. I will be put off
no more.

A. Yes thee will, master Ayscough. For if I told thee
now, and of his Lordship's will, thee would mock me, and not believe.

Q. Thy present obstinacy is worse than thy ancient
whoring. Why smil'st thou?

A. Not at thee, I beg thee to believe.

Q. You shall not escape me, mistress.

A. Nor thee what God has given.

Q. What of Dick - seemed he changed upon that next
day?

A. Not in his lickerousness.

Q. In what manner?

A. As we rode.

Q. What as you rode?

A. His Lordship was rid ahead, and Mr Brown and Jones
lay behind.

Q. What passed?

A. I will not say. But that he was in a state of
lust, as an animal, as Adam unregenerate.

Q. And you relieved him of it?

A. I will not say more.

Q. You mean by the roadside, among bushes?

A. I will not say more.

Q. What happened that night at Wincanton?

A. His Lordship called me not, except soon after we
arrived, and then but to take a message to Jones, that his Lordship
must speak with him at once.

Q. Do you know why?

A. No. I gave the message, that is all.

Q. Jones did not speak to you concerning it?

A. No.

Q. And his Lordship did not ask further for you that
night?

A. No.

Q. Did Dick come privately to you?

A. Yes.

Q. And you lay with him?

A. Yes.

Q. Were you not tired by then of his attentions?

A. I accepted them as before, tho' not as harlot.

Q. Out of pity, you would say?

A. Yes.

Q. Did he not arouse thy womanly lust?

A. That is not thy business.

Q. He did, is it not so? (Non respondet) Stayed he
long in your

chamber?

A. As before. He was gone when I awoke.

Q. The next day you passed to Taunton. Spake his
Lordship more with you on that day?

A. 'Cept once, when he rode a little beside and apart
with us, and asked how I did, whether I was not sore from the riding.
And when I said yes, for I had not the use of it, he said, Our
journey is near done, you may rest soon.

Q. His manner was polite?

A. Yes. More as at the beginning.

Q. Did you not ask him then of what had passed at the
heathen temple?

A. No.

Q. Was the moment not opportune?

A. I knew he would speak of it when he wished. And
when he did not, would not. And I believed now I was under his
protection, and more precious to him than he showed by his cruelty
earlier, or seeming indifference. Tho' still I knew not why.