Starbook (18 page)

Drawn by her mystery and cut through by her disdain, the Mamba followed the maiden in stealth wherever she went ...

In public places, among the women of the village, when she was in the community, he had no need to spy on her. The public eyes did that well enough and kept him informed with its daily quota of gossip. But when she stole away into the forest, or wandered down the clear brown path to the river, alone or with her hand-picked companions, he stole after her, and watched her from behind a cloak of partial invisibility.

He preferred to follow her when she was alone. He wanted to catch her at a secret habit or vice or some act of nature that would demystify her reputation as a woman beyond reach, a maiden of unattainable perfection and purity. He wanted to catch her squatting or at making the kind of natural noises that impeccable women are not allowed to make. Then her reverse spell might just cease to work on him; then, he hoped, he would begin to break the enslavement of his mind to her mystery. But the maiden was as irreproachable in private as in public ...

... and this made him madder, more obsessed, and more given to intense seeing and hallucinations.

She became many people in his mind. He magnified her. He multiplied her. He suspected her of profound sorceries. He invested her with witchcraft. Her sense of solitude became for him a sure sign that she had secret covens or meeting places with fellow witches. Then he suspected that she was the priestess of a goddess, a handmaiden of the great mother, a daughter of the mysterious one. She seemed so gentle, walked with such wayward grace, and bore an air of such inexplicable protection that her life was certainly lived under the aegis of a divine being. Who was she? What did she worship? The Mamba followed her and interpreted everything she did as a sign, as a votive deed, as an offering, as a rite in an unknown series of rites which added up to a significant ritual of great worship. He expected that any moment the focus of her worship would be revealed, and he half expected to be blinded by the sheer light and power of this unveiling.

On the other hand, he half expected also to be brought to the edge of terror by witnessing the monstrous centre of her ritual disappearances. Which would it be?

Her mystery filled him with fear.

He watched her as, in the forest, she spoke to the birds. To spiders in their webs, she sang a song, laughing. She whispered girlishly into the trunks of trees. And, alone, she sometimes threw her arms up and exulted in the rich bank of green above her and the cool shade of the trees. Often she would pick up a snail and move it from the path. She would speak to it, urging the snail to be more careful where it strayed.

Sometimes, while he gazed on her, she seemed to vanish, and he would panic in bafflement, and he would find her somewhere else, a distance away, in another part of the forest, as if she had been moved there by elemental forces.

Once, he saw her surrounded by fairies, all in yellow and blue and gold, all girls, tiny and bright, with green and golden wings; and she sat on a tree that had fallen, and was telling them stories ...

Sensing some pact she had made with solitude and with the little creatures of the forest, he was surprised when her escapes changed, and her feet tended towards the river. He walked in her footsteps to try and steal her powers and inhabit the weight and form of her being; but his big feet only destroyed the shape of her footprints on the white sand and left him confused about what he had accomplished.

Flowers she touched, he touched; and afterwards they wilted. And when he tried to tell the fairies stories he found not long afterwards an evil-looking bird regarding him from a tree that wasn't there.

Often the fairies perplexed him. Often he thought he saw the maiden in two places at the same time. Often he saw the maiden with her companions singing to the goddess of the river, all of them dressed in dazzling white shifts. Once he saw them all in a circle, linking hands, and they danced and spun around so fast, laughing girlishly, that they appeared to rise from the ground, all of them, while their sweet voices filled the air. The Mamba fell down in terror and astonishment at this sight, and when he got up he found himself partially blinded.

For two days he could not see clearly, and a mysterious ring burned in his brain, burned and turned in a pure air. Sometimes he could be heard screaming, for no visible reason.

When his sight improved, and the fire ceased burning in his brain, he resumed spying on the maiden. And he was shocked one day to find he wasn't the only one spying on her ...

For two days he watched from a distance and noticed how she seemed to be in a dream or a secret ritual or as if she had indeed beheld the presence of a higher being by the river. He watched as she spoke to the air, in an attitude of profound humility. He was mesmerised by the pure beauty that shone from her awkward and piquant face as she fell on her knees and began to answer three questions which it seemed the very air had asked her. And it filled him with jealous awe to behold the light that radiated from her form, purified now by some dazzling quality of the morning sun, which brought her in outline and seemed to concentrate a holy fire around her perfect slimness. She seemed then to be possessed of a beauty so refined and tender that the Mamba found himself gasping at this miraculous incarnation of the maiden by her own illumination.

He watched as she went through a strange ritual of praying, of worship. Quietly, he drew closer. And then he heard the voice in the morning wind, say: 'Come back here the same time tomorrow. Come alone.' He saw how she shone at the sound of the voice speaking in the wind.

He was instantly suspicious. It occurred to him that one of the other suitors might be behind this outrageous deception. Then he noticed rustling in the distant bushes and saw the form of a man disappear behind a cover of luxuriant green. Amazed at the audacity of such an act, he hurried in the direction of the bushes, taking the longer way, so as not to be seen by the maiden. But when he got there he only caught a glimpse of a fabulous horned animal vanishing among the trees, in a spangle of golden light pooled in from the sky between a bald patch among the high branches. The horned animal was of dazzling golden form, a pure matter of legend; and like a spark of a miraculous perception, it evaporated into the shade, leaving the Mamba partially blinded a second time.

He lay there on the floor of the forest, amidst a mildly sweet-smelling bank of leaves. He felt a slow drip of late morning dew fall on the nape of his neck as he listened to the thousand footfalls of invisible creatures in the forest. He lay quite still, waiting for his eyes to clear. In the distance he heard a wild boar rooting around. Around him he heard a steady hum and mingled tiny sounds of insects stirring and whirling. A voice was singing high above the trees. The river roared in his veins.

He began to formulate a vague act of malice to compensate for his blinding, his humiliation. He couldn't get the other spying out of his mind; and whenever he thought of that form, the fabulous horned animal also came to mind, and refused to leave. What was he to do? He was, he felt, owed due vengeance. A great rage swelled in him like a river in spate. He let it swell, and waited for the rage to subside. And when it did, he knew exactly what he should do, not only to win a bride, but also to begin his commanding steps towards power.

Dimly, feeling his way to the river's edge, he washed his face and his eyes. He lay in the sun. He slept, and when he awoke his eyes had cleared considerably.

He made his way home, speaking to no one on the journey back, grunting in a bad-tempered fashion when anyone spoke to him. It was the advantage of reputation. He could cloak his vulnerability beneath a growl.

Back in his abode he brooded on what he was going to do. Then, with the sure instincts of a fighter who knows when his moment has come and the fight has tilted his way, offering him the perfect opportunity for a victorious coup, he set his extraordinary plan into action. It was simplicity itself. And its consequences were incalculable. Till this day it still haunts the world, like a wandering note of dissonance that will never die.

The Mamba did two peculiar things. First he put it about that the maiden was having illicit relations with a horned animal near the river. Nothing travels faster than an evil rumour; and rumours are the easiest things to create. Like magic they appear, and take on the full vestments of truth, a terrible truth which everyone would secretly like to believe. This malicious rumour travelled very fast and soon everyone began to entertain the notion that the unattainable maiden made love to an exceptional beast in the forest.

Good news travels with the speed of a gazelle, but bad rumour travels with the swiftness of the wind. Soon sculptures depicting acts of bestiality, representing, in sublime forms, the coupling of a horned animal and a beautiful girl, began to appear at the tribal shrine.

And the second thing the Mamba did was to inform the maiden's parents that an outsider, a mysterious and dangerous figure, was spying on their daughter and could ruin her chances of a good marriage ... The Mamba thought that, by this action, he would earn a special place in their affections.

The maiden meanwhile was completely unaware of the appalling things that were being said about her; and she bore herself, as ever, with a tranquil and angular dignity. She sang when with her friends, and was silent when in the community. She did not notice the circle of her friends gradually dwindling. She did not notice the nature of the silence that came upon people when she entered their midst. The magical effect of the voice that had spoken to her by the river had illumined her consciousness and lifted her mind to realms of tender contemplation. She gazed upon the world and upon people with the sweetness of one in love but not having an object of love. She was a floating being of tenderness. She was occupied with a peculiar happiness that often made her suddenly giggle and weep and then gaze sternly all about her and then fall into a vacancy of being. Like a sky with constantly changing clouds that affected the light so dramatically, she was a changeable being of infinite sensitivity.

She had no idea what to do with herself. And so she made things, carved, drew figures on wooden panels, made up songs, invented new patterns on dye cloths, and ran exhausting errands, all this to try and stop feelings of powerful and fragile beauty from tearing her apart inside.

Life is too full of mysteries to which we pay no attention, and so significant events happen and we don't notice that they ever existed. Significant events often appear so insignificant anyway, almost invisible; and yet they are the tiny catalysts that change a life. After the maiden's encounter with the voice at the river, she dreamt that night, very fleetingly, of a young prince. She barely noticed the dream at the time, but the brief appearance of the prince in her dream remained somewhere in her mind, awaiting events that would double its presence. In the dream she merely saw a figure, whom she took for a prince, and he was staring at her, saying nothing, doing nothing, watching and not watching her, as if she were a mysterious work of art he never wanted to understand, but only to learn how to look at.

The maiden lived her life of tender absent-mindedness, as far removed in thought from the clamour of suitors as from the gathering rumours. But it became impossible to escape the rumours. The maiden herself remained forever oblivious to them, protected by providence from ever being sullied by lies that would have broken her young spirit; but the same was not true for her parents.

When her father learnt that there was a man who wasn't an official suitor who was spying on his daughter at the river, when he heard the rumours whispered in the tribe, he knew he had to act swiftly in order to protect her reputation. He knew he had no choice but to make her disappear from the tribe, and he knew that her exile might be bitter.

But as he was a man of mysteries, who never acted without listening to the invisible oracles, without listening to the hidden masters of the tribes, without consulting the ancestors, he set about the rituals by which things unknown are revealed in hints and messages, signs that manifest in the world and are interpreted by the master-readers of revelations. From the ancestors he received signs that things must decompose if they are to give birth to immortal fruits of time. From the hidden masters of the tribe he learnt that evil must triumph for a season if an even greater good that will change the world is to come into being; that good, in its gentleness, needs its true character and resolve tested, primed, and strengthened by the suffering brought on by evil; only then will good have the moral force, and the great integrity, and the deep certainty, and the boundless power to step forth and overcome evil and transform the world into the reality of a higher vision.

From the oracles he learnt that only one who is not fit to be a suitor can possibly win the hand of his daughter, only one whom no one notices can truly rule, only one who is unofficial can be truly official, only the lowly can be on high. Also, from the oracles he learnt that an unlikely contest will decide all things; and that the future is a dark hole beyond which, in time, a great kingdom of unimaginable splendour will be found. Through sorrow and pain, all will be well. All things will be transfigured. All will be redeemed. A joy beyond description will crown all stories. These things the oracles told.

The maiden's father was comforted, and acted with perfect tranquillity. He ignored the rumours and set about a long-term plan; for he was a man who always regarded present problems as excuses for long-term vision and preparation.

He was thinking now of the future of the tribe, beyond the time of its disappearance. He began preparations for its rebirth out of the decomposition of its present state, a life after the death of the tribe.