After the Rain (15 page)

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He would come again; he would come again.

When would he come? Arthur did not know.

What should we do when he came? Arthur did not say.

What did the god want beyond the worship and gifts he had already? Arthur could not tell.

“But it’s only a squid,” I said next evening after supper. “You heard Hunter say it was only a squid.”

Arthur said, “The god can take many forms. He can take the form of a man or of a squid. But in any form he is terrible.”

“You don’t really believe in all that?”

Arthur lifted his hand, and slapped my face. It was not a slap to hurt; it was no more than an instinctive gesture of shock, but it told me how deeply Arthur did believe what he was saying. There was a silence. “You had better leave the room,” he said, and I rose, and went out on deck.

Banner joined me there shortly afterwards. “He’s very angry,” Banner said. “He wants to see you in the temple. He says there’s no place for blasphemers among the Chosen. You’d better tell him you’re sorry.”

“You think he’ll have me thrown overboard?”

“Oh, I hope not.”

I had tried to make a joke, but Banner took the words seriously. Now I found that I was afraid. Nobody questioned Arthur’s decisions. If he were to decide to have me thrown overboard, then over I should go. Thinking of this, I became very frightened indeed. I wanted to say, “You wouldn’t let him?” but I dared
not, because I knew what the answer would be. When I am frightened, the tension in my throat makes it difficult for me to speak. “I’ll … I’ll tell him I’m sorry,” I said at last.

“You’d better. It was a very foolish and wicked remark.”

“I’ll tell him.”

Banner went indoors again. The high priest would let me know when he was ready to see me. The moon shone steadily on water which was clear again, for the little squid had long since dispersed. I stayed on deck, trying to collect my thoughts and my confidence. If I could stop myself shaking, if I could establish some sort of physical control, it would be a beginning. I wanted to make water, but the lavatory was indoors, and if I were to piss over the side, I might be caught doing so when they came to summon me to the high priest.

“You can come in now,” Banner said, reappearing. I walked through the main cabin to the temple. They were all sitting round the table, watching me, but I would not look at them.

I knocked. There was no reply from within the temple. Banner said, “I think you’d better enter.”

Arthur was wearing the frowning mask. I made a low obeisance, like a man in an Arabian Nights story. “I’m very sorry, god Arthur,” I said, “I am truly sorry that I have sinned.”

‘Ha hee ho ho,” said the god. High priest Arthur took off the mask, and the god went back to heaven. “The god speaks through me,” he said. “The god is angry.”

“I’ m sorry.”

“I have told you before, Mr. Clarke, that sorrow is of no practical use without the intention of amendment. The god has borne with your doubt for a long time. It is necessary at the beginning that there should be one among the Chosen to doubt and rebel, so that his chastisement by the god should be remembered by the people.”

“I’m not rebelling.”

“Not at the moment, no. Although even now I think that in your heart…. However, you are not to be blamed for that. You do no more in your way, Mr. Clarke, than we all do in ours; you express the will of the god. He has willed your fault, because he wills your expiation.

“Expiation?”

“Everything has come together in my mind, Mr. Clarke, since you asked that foolish question.
Do I believe?
That you should doubt my belief for a moment indicates that I have been at fault. Do we all believe? If we believe, do we believe strongly enough? Will we make a sign of our belief? Will we make a sacrifice to the god?”

I did not know where this was leading, but I was less frightened than I had been. If Arthur were to have me thrown overboard, it would be as a punishment, not as a sacrifice, so that whatever he intended to sacrifice, it was not I. I said, “We do make a sacrifice, high priest. We give our first fruits to the god.”

“That is an act of devotion, not a sacrifice. It does
not hurt us to give them. And yet … ‘first fruits’. That fits the pattern also.”

“What pattern?”

“When the god came out of the sea, what did he want? It was not clear to me then. Although I am close to the god, since I am part of him, born into mankind, his intentions may not always be clear to me, Mr. Clarke; I see that now. I did not know that he would … I had thought foolishly that I was the only incarnation, the only interpreter. But I was powerless, Mr. Clarke; it was the god himself.”

“The god Arthur?”

“Yes, the god Arthur. But in another form.”

“It could not have been…. There is no possibility that it was … an anti-god?”

“No. Or I should have prevailed. It was the god—made squid. When the god wishes me to know his intentions, Mr. Clarke, his revelation comes with the speed of lightning. I had one such moment when I struck you. It was all clear at once. First fruits…. The god’s appearance in the likeness of a sea creature…. Expiation…. The delay in coming to land…. Your own reference to Iphigenia….”

“A sacrifice?”

“Yes.”

I gathered together all the courage I had. I was certain now that Arthur did not mean I was to be the sacrifice. And, even if I were wrong, at least my offer would make no difference. I said, “You wish to sacrifice me, Arthur? I am ready, of course, to do as the god wills.”

“No. Not you.”

“Later perhaps?”

“Perhaps.”

I was sweating with a relief; a drop ran down my nose, and splashed on my chin. Arthur seemed to be waiting for me to say something else. What? Suddenly, it seemed to me, the sweat turned cold. I had been so concerned with my own fear that I had not asked myself the question which Arthur now waited to answer.

“Who then?”

Arthur chuckled. “Why do you ask?” he said. “It can make no difference. We are all equal in the eyes of the god.”

“Of course. Of course.”

“The
mechanics
of the thing may need a little arrangement. That is often the case in matters of religion, is it not?”

Was he trying to trap me? It seemed better not to answer.

“I may need your help.”

Sonya! Now I could see his drift; now it was clear. He aimed at Sonya, and my punishment was to be trapped into helping him. Sweat broke out again all over my body, and fear was like a thin sword in my bladder. I said, “I have to go to the bathroom. I’m sorry.”

“Return at once then.”

They were all there, still sitting round the table in the main cabin. My demeanour as I came out of the temple must have seemed a testimony to the power of
the god in punishing. I saw their faces—Muriel glad and Gertrude pitying, Harold righteous and Hunter vacant, Tony puzzled, and Sonya—I could not see Sonya’s face at all; it was just a golden blur. I had to think; I had to think of something. I leaned over the basin of the water closet, and was sick. For as long as I dared I stayed there, but nothing happened in my mind but fear and fog. I came out, closed the door slowly behind me, and returned to the temple. I had to think of something.

Perhaps the two of us together … Arthur himself could not prevail against the two of us, standing together. Hunter and Tony would not help him to—A pregnant woman! Sonya’s disability was our strength. Surely they would not harm a pregnant woman, even if the god himself were to order it.

“The pregnancy is much advanced,” Arthur said.

“Yes,” I would buy time. “Would it not be better to wait? Some of the others might feel——”

“They would feel nothing and know nothing. A sacrifice need not be public to be effective; only the will to give and the decision to receive are important. Later the others would be told. That is the god’s will.”

“But how could they not——?”

“The delivery will take place here in the temple. As the father, you may expect to be present. Later, we shall take the child——”

“The child?”

“An innocent life. Unblemished. For the god. The firstborn of our new society. An offering, and an expiation.”

The relief! I was filled with relief until it almost ran out of my ears. Not Sonya. Nobody would hurt Sonya. I was not to be tested, not to be required to fight for her. Only the child. Nobody could ask me, nobody could expect me to fight, to risk both our lives—risk them? to lose them certainly—to lose both our lives for a child a few hours old, something without even a personality; nobody could do that. It would not be pleasant, certainly, to sacrifice the child, not be easy to explain to Sonya herself (
here began the first disquiet
), but it was not so bad, not so fearful; it could be borne. “She’d better not be told,” I said. “We’ll have to say it died or something.”

“Naturally. It will be a secret we shall share with the god.”

Yes.

“You may go now, Mr. Clarke.”

As I left the temple for the second time, I was not shaking, not sweating, not sick at the stomach. Only my face was flushed, my ears red; I felt a disinclination to talk to any of the others in the cabin. I walked straight past without looking at them, and went out on to the deck to be by myself for a while; I was beginning to wonder what I could say to Sonya, either now or in the future. Now that I thought I was alone, I raised my glance from the ground, and there was Tony, sitting in Hunter’s fishing-seat, and staring thoughtfully at the water. He looked round as I approached. “Been chewing you up, has he?” he said. “It’s a fair carry-on, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“He’s funny—Arthur.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Well, you know—I mean, all this stuff. Being god and then not being god and all. You never know where you are with him.”

“Don’t you believe in it then?” I said slowly.

Tony grinned. I noticed for the first time how light and clear his eyes were. “Don’t know much about it really,” he said. “I mean, I can never tell what you’re all talking about.”

“But you always do what you’re told. You never…. You’ve never attempted…. I’m only one who’s ever tried——”

“Well, he is the gaffer, isn’t he?” Tony said. “I mean, you have to do what he tells you. He’s clever, you know. I mean, all the things he thinks of. And it’s not as if he did any harm with being a god and all. If that’s what he likes, good luck to him.”

“No harm? What about Wesley Otterdale?”

“You mean, like that Muriel thinks Arthur pushed him over?”

“Yes.”

He grinned again. “She can think that if she wants to; she gets a kick out of it, I’d say. But Arthur was inside with us when Wesley went overboard; you know that. It was you let go of him, and he got washed away, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Well then?”

I was silent. “Look,” Tony said, “I didn’t say I didn’t believe in it like.”

“You said——”

“I said I didn’t know. It’s not my business, see? Religion and that, it’s always been sort of—sort of above me really. Not that I’d do anything wrong. I mean—” For the first time since I had known him, Tony was trying to explain a point of view. It was not easy for him, but he persisted. “Right and wrong,” he said, “they’ve got a lot to do with religion of course. Like murder’s wrong, f’ rinstance, only it would be wrong anyway, whether the Bible said so or not. And grassing on your friends, now, that’s wrong, and the Bible doesn’t say nothing about that at all. But adultery and that. Well, I mean, people do that all the time.”

“Do they?” I said.

“Well, you know they do. I mean, you and Sonn—you aren’t married.”

It was as if he had broken a dam. All my guilt and self-doubt, which had been growing ever since I had fallen in so readily with Arthur’s suggestion, were now added to the jealousy and suspicion that had already gone rotten inside me, and both came flowing out. I took three steps towards Tony, and laid one hand on his arm, thrusting my face close to his. “You should know, shouldn’t you?” I said. “You should bloody well know.”

“Eh?”

“You don’t know anything about it, do you, you smug sanctified right-thinking bastard? Arthur and
what he does to us, that’s none of your business. You just do what’s right. We can destroy ourselves up here. And as long as you do your bloody exercises every day, and f——away to your heart’s content in the hold——”

“What do you mean?”

“No, Sonya and I aren’t married. So it’s all right, isn’t it? And even if we were married, it’d be all right because everyone does it, don’t they? And I … I can’t even kill you because I’m not strong enough. Maybe I ought to do some bloody exercises.”

I was weeping quite freely now, and the tears ran down my cheeks, and splashed on Tony’s bare shoulders. He stared at me, his mind taking in my meaning slowly, as it always did. “Me and Sonn?” he said. “Down there? What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. Did you think I didn’t know what you did down there? Everybody knew. The whole bloody lot of them knew. Muriel. Arthur. I heard them talking about it. Laughing. Just because we weren’t—And you were bigger, so I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t even prove it.”

“Did Sonn say we——?”

“She wouldn’t say you didn’t.”

“You fool!” Tony said. “You don’t know nothing, do you?” He turned his face away from me, and looked out over the water. His voice was constrained. “I can’t, if you want to know,” he said, “I just can’t. I haven’t been able to for I don’t know how long.”

“You can’t what?” I said. I had stopped weeping. “What do you mean—you can’t?”

“I just can’t; that’s all. I don’t know why it is. If it was anyone else, it’d be funny. I never used to be like this. The boys used to call me a sex maniac. It wasn’t healthy. That’s one of the reasons I took up
body-building
, see?—to take my mind off sex, like. And after a bit, it worked. I found I wasn’t … interested no more. I thought it was the exercise done it, and being so tired when I come home from the gym. And then I won all them prizes, and had my picture on the cover of
Health and Strength
, and all the girls was after me, and then when I did want to, I just couldn’t.”