Human Traces (41 page)

showed them the inside of my head and what I am thinking, and it is true that I am thinking of the women and I know that they can see that I am thinking about fucking her, the one with the little reading glasses and the freckles, I am thinking about her cunt, it is true and I can picture its colour, the soft blonde hairs and the pink-ishness of it all puckered on itself and I wish the Sovereign would not show my thoughts abroad, like the finger writing on the wall for all to see. I must keep moving, try to drag the true thought up through me like the line they drop for building the plumb line for the bricks. It is too hard to think one of those thoughts. I would have to close down everything else to give myself the peace to think it. Like a householder at night, I would go into many rooms and close the shutters, blow out the lamps, lock the doors, close down everything, one by one by one, stop the shouting and the talking in every single room until at last I had the peace to think my one clear thought a thought like those that are thought by the seen-people, like the Englishman or the girl called Daisy. It would be a simple thought, a quiet thought, full of reason, spoken softly, not against the clamour of competing voices, but spoken into silence. But I cannot get into all the rooms at once to close them down. I cannot be upstairs, downstairs, in the cellar, in the courtyard all at once with my keys and breath to blow out lamps and my gags to shut the voices down. How can a man be in fifty places all at once? So it is easier to be in pieces, in the Babel. It is easier to live in fragments. So long as I keep some edges, do not lose the edges of myself. I will lie beneath the tree and listen to the wind in the leaves. What kind of tree is this? Is it a poplar? Or a willow? By the side of the water here. Not an oak or a pine, but a tree with little leaves of grey that rustle in the wind. So let me hear the wind. "It is his fault. Ten million men will die." I will listen to the wind. "Stable boy. Pig-fucker. Why won't he kill himself?" One leaf rustles on another. "He is too much of a coward." It is like the faintness of cymbals. "It all adds up. It all makes sense. His evil has caused it." I will not hear you in the wind. Cannot hear you, I am lost in the leaves, in the hiss, in the sound, in the green and the grey in the big perfection because the wind is perfect, as the water is perfect, you could not make it better, it could not be more beautiful or more watery, not like the things men make, which could always be better, you could not improve the wind, this sound that rings and whistles softly in my head; and all the other voices, all the sounds are mingled in me and I am the centre, chosen, centre of the world through which the harmony is made and in the grey whisper and soft clatter of the leaves I hear the mountains of the east, the sands of Arabia, brown-skinned men playing music, girls dancing with clinking cymbals in their fingers, carrying me and my million thoughts and pictures each one of which carries a million more I do not have the time to catch or see as they ride by in the branches over me, a shadow on a brick wall in a garden, splash of silver fish on the quay in Vannes, wail of women, thrust of green and smell of grass, root and finger, bone and blood, and all in me spinning and whistling, blown and hissing in the wind. "Why is he denying it? It is his fault. A child can see that." Your voices will fade in the rippling leaves. "Kill yourself. Only that can save the world." I can hear the colours of the leaves, the green on grey, the grey on green, the smooth metallic rustle, each sound distinct, each part of a greater whole we cannot see. Cannot see the wind. Cannot see the wind, they say! But I have always seen the wind. When I was a child I saw the wind. I saw it in the apple trees. It was not difficult! Like water made into air, that's all. But lovely in its sound, like Saul and Jonathan, they were lovely and pleasant in their lives and in their death they were not divided. "Kill yourself." The leaves weigh on the twigs and the twigs lift the branches and the sounds are all around me as I lie here on the grass beneath the tree... "Kill yourself, coward. That will save the world." I am very sorrowful for the pain I see in the madmen where I live. It tears at my heart. I know it is my fault. as though the leaves are tiny cymbals being kissed by the wind... "Kill yourself. am submerged in this heavenly sound that whistles and rustles and beats like my heart, like butterfly kisses on my face that no one has kissed since... I do not know when someone kissed me last. "Kill yourself, you coward." "Kill yourself." "Olivier? Where are you? It's me, Daisy. Where are you? We are going to see the railway. Olivier! There you are, you funny boy. You've been out here for hours. I thought we'd lost you. You are to put on your coat and come with me and Miss Sonia and Miss Kitty in the trap to Wilhelmskogel. Dr. Rebière and Dr. Midwinter went ahead and they are having a little ceremony at the top to mark the first truck going up, or some such thing. Come along now, Olivier. It's going to be such a lark." I do not want to go with the man in the hat. The horse-man. He is working for the Germans. "Now is the time to do it. To end it." "It is the perfect opportunity." I must find my coat and go. I must pretend to be normal. Pretend I do not know about the horse-man. There he is. He is looking at me. He can see my thoughts. Why does the Sovereign let him see them? "Now then. Kitty, why don't you sit here on this side, and Daisy you sit next to Kitty and I'll sit next to Olivier. There we are. Everybody happy. Off we go, Josef!" "So he's got himself opposite the fair-haired one. She's not wearing her glasses, though, is she?" "He likes her in her glasses. He likes to think of her naked with just the little reading glasses on." "He likes to fuck her from behind, like a dog. In his mind. In his imagination!" "She wouldn't really let him. Only pigs let him." "I brought some cakes, Sonia." "Thank you, Kitty. I think Jacques said it's about an hour. Josef has arranged to change horses at the stables in town." He will take instructions from the ostler. I have seen him before. He is a Bavarian. He wants to kill me before the Monarchy returns. I must keep touching my fingers, keep touching the door of the carriage. "Daisy, would you like some cake, or shall we wait until we stop? We can have a cup of chocolate while Josef changes the horses." An hour. An hour with the horse-man. What is an hour to me? I have no idea of time. Sometimes time laughs at me. I saw a clock laugh at me once. "What exactly is this ceremony, Sonia?" "Well, you know that the track for the cable-car is ready? They are going to try it with an open truck. With just some old railway sleepers on it." "When they first talked about this cable-car I somehow pictured it being up in the air, suspended on the wire." "No, no, you silly girl! It is just pulled up on rails. The cable is attached to the underneath of the car. It is terribly simple. It is like one of Daniel's toys. But don't tell Herr Geissler I said that." "And how do we get up to the top?" "Josef takes us as far as he can up the track, then we change to mules for the steep bit. It takes another hour from there, I think." We are changing horses already. That was not enough time. We are in town, and there are too many people here. "Do you want to get down and stretch your legs, Olivier?" I must stay in the carriage, don't let the Bavarian see me. My thoughts are being shown. Keep inside. Keep my head low. "He is too scared to get down." "Even though the fair girl's got down and he wants to watch her." "Wants to see her hips in the tight skirt and think..." "Too frightened even to want her." "Come on then, Josef. Let's get moving, shall we? I told my husband we would be there by four. Come on, Kitty." I am not managing well. This man Josef. I fear today is the day he has chosen. I saw his face in the horse's face, when it whinnied and stamped its hoof on the cobble. It was his devilish features beneath that mane. It was like the face of the old mare... God, I remember the old mare in the stable where I lived. Why did I live in the stable? In the name of God, why there? Perhaps I do not remember it right. Or the nuns. '... so bossy, Sonia!" "Katharina, I can assure you I am not bossy. I have to organise a household full of... Eccentrics, shall we say. And none more eccentric than your husband, I might add. Someone has to be in charge." "Let us ask Daisy for her impartial judgment. Don't giggle, Daisy. Tell me, do you think Miss Sonia is bossy or not?" "Miss Sonia is... Miss Sonia is ever so well organised." "There you are, Kitty! Look. There is the beginning of our railway line, our own "spur" as the men like to call it leading up into the foothills." "Why don't we take the train, Miss?" "Because there isn't one yet. There is only a line." This journey is over too soon. These seen-women with their silly chatter have made it pass quickly. We are stopping too soon. Josef will hand me over now to the Germans. Touch my fingers, touch the door, touch my fingers, touch the door. "Of course I can ride a mule, Sonia! I am not just a Viennese flibbertigibbet, you know. I was more or less brought up on a farm." "Daisy, you take that one, he looks friendly. Olivier, you get on this one, because I know for sure that you were brought up in the countryside with horses and dogs. Josef will lead the way' We are in beech woods and they are very dense. I like beech trees, but the forests are easy to hide in. Higher up there will be larch and pine. And there will be bears and wolves. These stupid people do not understand how dangerous these mountains are. They eat wild boar but do not ask themselves where it comes from. From the beech woods. I am tired of this riding. This stony track. I am so very very tired. "He is frightened of the lamp man "He knows today is the day. There is no time left." "He is not worth killing. He will have to kill himself." The forest is getting thicker. I want to be above the treeline, where the Germans cannot hide, but maybe this mountain is not high enough. The Sovereign must stop showing my thoughts to the man in the hat. I am worn down by the ceaseless, ceaseless voices. "Getting colder, isn't it, Daisy? Do you feel it?" "Yes, Miss. I can see the buildings at the top. Is that Dr. Rebière waving?" "Yes! Come on. Let's hurry up to the top." "My donkey won't go no faster!" "Kitty, you go first through this little bit, then it's round to the right, past the old chapel. You'll see them waiting." Who is this man talking? He is like my brother, but my brother is... Is a child. I am so tired. "Hello, everyone You made it. Come and see our wonderful cable track. Thomas is waiting with a bottle of champagne. This way, my love. Come, Olivier. Over here. Isn't it a wonderful view? The whole of Carinthia, almost. See those mountains? The SchladmingerTauern. And down in the valley over here is Wolfsberg and right up there are the Fischbacher Alps. Thomas!" "Come and see our wheel. Jacques, bring them over. See this, Queenie? This mighty wheel will pull the car up the sheer side of the mountains. The truck is waiting at the bottom. Look." "No! It makes me feel sick." "Don't be silly! Can't you see how beautifully smooth it is? That's why we chose this incline, because there was so little grading for them to do. I do hope it's going to work. I am feeling a little apprehensive, though not as much as Geissler. Kitty, my love, come and look." "It is magnificent, I must admit. It would be hard to feel melancholy with such a glorious view." "Exactly. And you can see how the builders are progressing with the main house? It should be ready by October. Just in time." "Kill yourself. This is a good place." "He could throw himself off. But he's too scared." "Olivier, hold the champagne a moment. I want to show Sonia something. Here take it. Thank you. Now look, my love, this is where the cable comes up and this is where the safety cable runs and this is where the platform will be where the passengers will step down." "It is wonderful, Jacques." "We will lift the poor creatures up. We will raise them above suffering, will we not, Thomas?" "I do hope so, Jacques. We have worked hard enough to build our promontory it is the height of our ambition." "The peak of enlightenment." "Josef, can you fetch the champagne from Olivier? Then Sonia, would you break it on the wheel." He is coming for me, the hat-man is coming for me... He is coming. "Kill yourself. Kill yourself." "Just run and throw yourself "Too cowardly to do the right thing." He is coming for me, he is coming! "Run and kill yourself. Just run." I will, I will, I will, I am running, I am running, I am running, I am... "Stop him! Thomas! Stop! Stop!" I am running, I am running, I am It took them two days to recover Olivier's body, which lay among the rocks that had been tipped down the sharpest fall, next to the cable-car Incline. Men were lowered on ropes, as they had been when laying the dynamite charges, but Olivier's body was hard to reach and harder still to raise. Eventually, two workmen managed to secure ropes beneath his armpits and tie a sort of noose round his back; three mules at the summit turned the windlass and began to drag him to the top. Olivier arrived at last, over the lip of the mountain, his clothes shredded by the friction, but otherwise oddly unmarked by his fall. It appeared that his neck and left leg had broken; there was some blood that had clotted and stained the white of his beard around the mouth. His eyes were open but their gaze was empty. Under Hans's instructions, the body was then taken down by mule to where Thomas waited with Josef's horse and trap to take it back to the schloss. It was the practice that any psychotic patients who died at the clinic should undergo post-mortem, to see what Thomas and Franz Bernthaler could learn, but Thomas presumed Jacques would rather his brother was not subject to this indignity and had the body despatched to the morgue at the city hospital while they made arrangements for the funeral. Jacques sat quietly in the drawing room of his and Sonia's apartment. The shock of the incident, its brutal surprise, at first made it impossible for him to think deeply about it. When at last he could do so, he found that he felt a most peculiar sensation of solitude. His father was long dead, his mother he had never known; and though he had 'lost' his brother years ago, when he drifted into madness, Olivier had remained his only link to the family of his birth, to that small group of humans that had been his first and irreducible unit of allegiance in the world. Now he was like the last survivor of a platoon. It had a name, a number and a history, but no existence: what had seemed indestructible, his base