A Maggot - John Fowles (21 page)

A. Unless it be that towards the end on two separate
occasions Mr Bartholomew rode aside with Dick and the maid, as if to
view the prospect ahead.

Q. This had not been done before?

A. No, sir. On both occasions they rode apart with
him to an eminence, where it chanced our road passed. I saw the man
Dick point, as if to some distant hill or place.

Q. Did Mr Bartholomew make no remark upon it to you?

A. Yes, he said they searched the most favourable
road. And I asked if we were near our destination. To which he
replied, we are on the threshold I spoke of, Lacy; and then, Your
kind service is near done. Which was as Jones and I had already
surmised, by this stopping to look ahead.

Q. Were you not near where Mr Bartholomew and his man
had been but six weeks earlier? And where the maid had lived? Why
should they need to search their road?

A. We admired ourselves, sir. But not being privy to
their plans and intentions, supposed they sought the most secret way,
since they neared where they must be most in danger.

Q. And this was your first advice of this parting on
the morrow?

A. Yes, sir. Tho' 'twas plain we must be close, with
Bideford scarce a day's ride forward. I cannot call myself surprised.

Q. Now I would know all that passed at the Black
Hart.

A. Much as before, sir, until we had supped. Were it
not that he requested me for once to yield him the best chamber,
where before, when we had choice, I had always taken it. He doubted
he would sleep that night, and would have a room he might pace about,
as he said. The second-best was small.

Q. Saw you no other purpose?

A. Except that it looked out upon the square, and
where I slept but upon the garden and back parts. Beside its greater
largeness I saw no advantage.

Q. Proceed. What was said when you had supped?

A. He began by thanking me for bearing with him, and
what he called his vacua, his silences, and said he feared he had
been tedious company, to one such as I. That never the less I had
played my part well, and he was grateful. To which I returned that I
might have played it better, had I known better how all was to end.
Once more he made some obscure allusions, which I took to signify
that he was by no means confident of success in his venture. I did
rally him a little then. I said that even if he failed once more on
this occasion, he might surely try again. He answered, One cannot
cross the Rubicon twice, it is this time or never, or some such
words. I told him he took too despondent a view. And now he struck
out upon one of his fancies, Mr Ayscough, and in a manner that
alarmed me. For I had said he was not in some fixed story, as it were
in a tragedy, where all is antecedently doomed. To which he replied
that perhaps his story had neither Romeo and Juliet, and asked what I
should do before one that had pierced the secrets of the future.

Q. How is this - how pierced them?

A. He did not say, sir. He put it as a parable, so as
to say this hypothetick person truly knew what was to happen in time
to come, and not by superstitious or magical means, but by learning
and study. And how, if I granted him that, it were better such
knowledge were not told. Which I took to be his way of saying, it is
better I do not tell you of my real purpose. I confess I did not take
it kindly, sir. For now I thought he had as good as admitted he
deceived me, and broken his word. I said as much. Whereupon he most
earnestly begged me to believe that what he hid from me was for my
own good. That I had his word that it was not criminal. He then added
what he had told me was true inasmuch as he wished to meet someone,
and as much as any man might his mistress - or his Muse, I recall he
put it so - and yet had been hitherto prevented.

Q. In what manner prevented?

A. He did not say.

Q. Who was this person?

A. Mr Ayscough, I cannot tell you. He would not be
pressed. I asked if it were not some affair of honour. He smiled
sadly at that, and said he would hardly ride so far to do what might
be as well done in Hyde Park, or without a friend to second him.
Things had gone thus far when I was unfortunately called away. A Mr
Beckford, who is curate there -

Q. I know of him, I have spoken with him. You knew
him not before that day?

A. I did not. .

Q. Then no more of him. You spoke with Mr Bartholomew
again, when he had gone?

A. Yes, but found him changed. As if he had reflected
in my absence, and found he had said too much in our first
conversation. I will not say he was discourteous. Yet he was more
impatient with my doubts. He had papers from his box spread on a
table before him when I returned. I saw they were mostly figures and
with what I took to be geometrick or astronomick, I know not what,
other signs. He handed me one to look at, and asked if I did not
think they might not be seditious writings in cipher to James Stuart.

Q. By way of sarcasm, you would say?

A. Yes. Likewise that he had perhaps come to practise
the black arts with some local witch. By which he meant also to mock
my fears. Thereafter he grew more serious, and spoke again of this
person he would meet; that before him he stood, in respect of powers
of understanding and wisdom, as the poor mute Dick before himself.
Then that what he was about might be a foolish dream, yet it did not
put his soul in danger. You take his drift, Mr Ayscough. He
confounded all in riddles, I assure you. He might seem to inform me,
yet told me nothing.

Q. Some scholar, some learned recluse?

A. I must presume. By chance I had asked Mr Beckford
if such there were, at least persons of taste and learning, in the
neighbourhood, and he replied, there are none, that he dwelt in a
desert. His very words.

Q. Mr B. gave no indication of how close this person
lay or lived?

A. No, sir. Though one must suppose, within that next
day's ride, and towards Bideford, where I left him on the morrow.

Q. It is implied, is it not, that this person now
lives there or near there; that he knows Mr B. seeks this meeting,
which he eschews, or is indifferent to; nay, that he will flee if he
has fore-knowledge of his coming in his own person and has his
agents, spies, I know not what, posted to prevent him ... whence all
the elaborate subterfuge of which you were part? Is that not the
case? I do not believe it, Lacy. I can sooner swallow the heiress.
Did you not think, why does he mar a plausible tale, albeit a false
one, with a far less credible account?

A. I did, sir. I saw no reason why I should be so
newly misled, at this very last stage of our adventure. If I give you
a reason for it, that came to me later, I fear you will call me a
fool.

Q. Never mind, sir. I'll take you now for an honest
fool, at least. A. Then I flatter myself Mr B. had gained some
respect for me, even were it no more than you have just suggested.
When I look back, I apprehend he wished to suggest a greater and more
serious purpose than he had led me to believe. He wished me to know
he sought something beyond the seeming of our parts till then. As if
to say, I have deceived you, but it is in a great and worthy cause,
tho' beyond what I can reveal.

Q Can you not be more exact as to what was written on
the papers?

A. I know little of the learned sciences, sir. There
were many numbers on the sheet he passed to me, in columns. With some
two or three parts scratched loosely out, as if they had been found
in error. And another on the table showed a geometrick figure, a
circle cut by many lines that passed the circle's centre, against
which were writ, at the lines' ends, further words of Greek, tho'
abbreviate. If I do not mistake, rather as astrologers make their
casts. I could not discern more closely.

Q. Did Mr B. never speak of such - of astrology, or
belief or interest in it?

A. Unless at that observation at the temple,
concerning his searching his life's meridian, no.

Q. In sum, he gave you to understand, though
obscurely, that what had brought him there was not what he had
hitherto given you to believe?

A. Yes, of that I am sure.

Q. And you presume, from this conversation, and those
others that preceded it, that his true design was in some way
pertinent to these his hints and allusions as to a piercing of the
secrets of time to come?

A. Sir, to this day I know not what to presume. I
sometimes think I must believe as he hinted; and at others, that all
is riddle, that he would in all play the jack with me and never
discoursed of these matters but to deceive; yet again, as I say, that
though he must perforce deceive me, he did regret it sincerely.

Q. You had no more converse that night?

A. Upon one matter only, Mr Ayscough. For his
admitting that he was here upon other business than had been
pretended did raise a further enigma: why we had brought the maid: I
confess I was piqued, sir, that I had been hitherto trusted so
little; and so I did tell him of what Jones had believed her to be.

Q. What said he to that?

A. Whether I did believe it so; and I replied, easily
I could not, yet that we suspected his man was privy to her bed. At
which he did put a last confusion upon me, for he said, May a man not
sleep with his wife, Lacy?

Q. What was your answer?

A. None, sir. I was the too discomfited. Jones and I
had aired much in our speculations, but never that.

Q. Why should they have hidden that they were
married?

A. It is beyond my conceiving. Nor why a comely,
well-spoken young woman such as she should join her fate to such a
deficient creature as Dick, without hope or prospect.

Q. This concluded your dealing on that evening?

A. Beyond that he did assure me of his esteem for me.

Q. Your agreed reward, how was that settled?

A. I forget, he said it should be done the next
morning. As it was indeed. When he gave me the bill in settlement,
and also begged me to keep or sell the horse, as I wished. Which I
thought handsome of him.

Q. And it is sold?

A. Yes, when I came to Exeter.

Q. Now let us come to Jones, and his going off.

A. I was not a party to it, Mr Ayscough. He gave me
no warning, not the least.

Q. Spake you to him, after you came to the Black
Hart?

A. Unless some few words upon trivial matters.

Q. You had told him your task was near ended?

A. Yes, to be sure. As I said, we had divined it
should be so before we came to the Black Hart; and when I retired,
after being informed by Mr B. of our instructions, as to proceed

ing forthwith to Exeter, I did call Jones up from the
kitchen and told him what had befallen.

Q. Seemed he set aback?

A. Not in the least, sir. He said he would be glad to
be done with it.

Q. You did not discuss further?

A. Why, he might have done so, sir, for he was a
little in his cups. But I sought my bed, and forbade it. I believe I
said we should have time enough after to think upon all that had
happened.

Q. When did you discover he had gone?

A. Not till I woke, that next morning, when as I
dressed I remarked a note lying inside the door, as if pushed there.
I have brought it, I fear it is poorly written.

Q. Read it, if you please.

A. Worthy Mr Lacy, I hope you shall not take it too
ill thanks for your past kindness that I will be gone when you read
this, I would not have it so, but as you well know I have an aged
parent at my place of birth in Wales, as well a brother and sister I
have not seen these seven years past. Sir, it has been much on my
mind in this coming west that I have sore neglected my duty as a son
and being here so close, I asked our landlord of passage across the
channel to Wales, and he said there was weekly ships in culm and
coals to Bideford and Barnstaple and I found on asking there was one
such sails by chance on the flood this coming day as I write, I mean
from Barnstaple, which I must take, tho' rest assured I will tell any
who ask I ride ahead for you to Bideford to warn of your coming, and
for the horse I will leave it at the Crown Inn, which is on
Barnstaple Quay, for you or Mr B. to take up when and where you
please, the blunderbush I leave beneath the bed, I would steal
nothing. Pray believe it is my mother, sir, who I know is ailing, it
is respect of her and if I should not take this chance when that I am
come so close, but forty miles' sail, and our own journey done.
Please assure Mr B. I shall keep my mouth closed tight as a - I can't
read it, sir - and I beg with all my heart nor he nor you will think
me failing on my side of the bargain other than by this one small day
and if he is so kind as to forgive your humble servant and friend I
beg you hold safe my part owed unto my return to London, which shall
not be long hence, I trust, and now begging once more your sincere
pardon, I must end, for time presses. That is all, Mr Ayscough.

Q. He put his name to it?