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Authors: Bryce Courtenay

Tags: #FIC000000, #Historical

Sylvia (32 page)

BOOK: Sylvia
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I had experienced my first mushroom trance and now Nicholas explained what he had seen me do during the course of it. ‘Sylvia, all went well at first and you smiled and laughed and clapped your hands and it seemed you were having a right merry time. Then you reached for your stave and commenced to strike the end into the loaf of bread until it broke into several pieces. It was then that I was myself distracted for the birds in the woods were screeching and I glanced to the sky to see two falcons looking for prey. When I looked back you held your hands to your ears and the expression on your face was as if the anxiety of the birds and their urgent screeching hurt your ears. Then you uttered the cry of the falcon and the two circling above immediately flew away and you commenced to call all the birds unto you as if you wished to calm them. They soon surrounded you as I have previously seen them do and now commenced to eat the broken loaf and pick with their beaks at the trout, feasting on the bread and the fish as you watched. Then when they had eaten the bread and removed the flesh from the fish, a large black crow came flying in and scattered them and then attempted to lift the remains of the fish from the ground. But as you well know the sudden arrival of a crow means bad luck and I thought it time to wake you. Then the crow holding in its beak the fish with head and tail and bones observed my approach and flapping its wings it lifted the carcass into the air above your head. But the fish proved too weighty and fell back onto your lap. Whereupon I saw you reach for your stave and strike at the water jug and smash it asunder. You were crying out in terror, gasping and weeping, and so I thought to wake you if I could.'

When I had recovered sufficiently to be about my wits, I found myself bitterly disappointed. I had received no insights into my mind, no vision of eternal truth and no guidance. To my dismay the explanation for everything seemed simple enough.

The mushrooms had caused me to hallucinate so that one thing became another and it did not take me long to work out how each of the objects had caused the vision to come about. The rock that became translucent was either the small rock on which I had placed the bread and beside it the trout to keep them from the dirt or, alternatively, it was the rock upon which Nicholas sat, although I think the former for in the vision he did not appear seated upon it. This explained my striking the bread that then turned into a pillow on which the trout lay and this then became a rising cloud with the fish upon it. The two falcons, which I had seen as two great dark hands above the cloud and the screeching of the birds alarmed at the presence of the birds of prey, became the birds fleeing from out of the fish's mouth.

Then, according to Nicholas, I had caused the falcons to fly away and the birds to calm by calling them to me. They had landed all about me, hence the fluttering of the wings and, naturally enough, they had devoured the bread and the fish, in other words the cloud and the fish upon it, squabbling all the while to continue the cacophony I had first heard.

The crow arriving to stand in front of me became the imp, or perhaps part of it, its wings and feet, the black earthenware jar with its two handles on either side making his arms and the fish its visage. Together they gave the tiny demon wings, arms, legs, a fish's nostrils and mouth with sharp teeth and the eyes of either the crow or the fish. My stave became a serpent and I had struck the black jar, thinking it the devilkin. The wetness I had supposed was sweat was in fact the water from the jar that had splashed over me when I had broken it.

It all fitted neatly except the tail the tiny devil carried. This too I solved soon enough. It was the beech-tree root that crossed the rock upon which Nicholas sat. The only thing I couldn't solve was the huge blue-veined and bone-white appendage between the cacodemon's legs that I knew to belong to my father. But when I cogitated I could see that it was the fish possibly held by the tail in the beak of the crow as it attempted to escape, its head and skeleton making my father's appendage. His wanton actions and the birthmark on my back had possessed my spirit since childhood and were ever-present in my mind. These two things had been the cause of everything that had happened to me, and so I was forced to conclude they had naturally emerged as the most apprehensive components in my hallucinatory state.

I told Nicholas the sequence of events throughout the trance that had, I discovered to my surprise, occurred over a period of four hours, although I did not mention the final aspect concerning my father. He listened wide-eyed and amazed, then said, ‘And all this happened in your mind! Just think, you are now a receiver of visions, Sylvia.'

‘Nay, Nicholas, think upon it a moment. They were not visions such as experienced by Father Hermann or, in the past, by the saints. What I saw were merely objects that lay in front of my eyes that became changed in my imagination. This is not of the spirit but of the mind and seems to me to contain no value or even serve as a useful insight. I carry no wisdom from it, except the appearance of the crow as an omen of bad luck, and I cannot bring myself to think as others do that the appearance of a crow or jackdaw is the harbinger of misfortune. All birds live in God's world and only man is capable of original sin. As for myself, I shall not hurry to repeat this experience, as I was greatly frightened at the latter stages.'

‘But you came to no harm from this tiny winged devil?'

‘Aye, but it frightened me.'

‘But no harm,' he insisted.

‘Aye, no harm, it was only the fabric of my imagination, objects changed to other things.'

‘Then I must have some of this mushroom for myself.'

‘Nay, Nicholas, it was not a pretty experience.'

‘What of the colours, the trees, grass and the green sky – I have never seen a green sky or blue grass or trees the colour you describe except near enough in autumn.'

‘They are no prettier in the new colours, in fact not pretty at all. God made them the right colours from the start and gave them new colours in the autumn to satisfy all our needs.'

‘You promised that if you came to no harm I might try the mushrooms for myself,' he insisted, now all young-boy sulk. ‘If you break your promise I will not trust you again, Sylvia,' he threatened.

‘Very well, but it is almost noon. I have a Latin lesson with Father Paulus at two o'clock and then Greek later. Perhaps we may do it tomorrow morning, eh?'

‘Nay, we do not know if the mushrooms act the same if they are not freshly picked. What if we cannot find others on the morrow?' He looked at me, pleading. ‘It took us three days to find the ones this morning. Please, can we do it now, Sylvia? There is time. I promise. I am younger than you, my trance will be over the sooner!'

But it wasn't. Nicholas finally came out of his trance at sunset when we barely had time to get back to Cologne to change for the evening where I had to perform at a rich merchant's birthday party. After my trance that morning and waiting all the afternoon for Nicholas to come out of his, I wasn't much looking forward to the evening spent with Klaus the Louse and a roomful of noisy drunken burghers and their wives.

Nicholas hadn't moved during the entire afternoon and now said almost nothing on the way home, but instead kept repeating, ‘Yes, Lord! Yes, Jesus!' in a most fervent and ecstatic voice, his eyes turned heavenwards. Every once in a while he'd suddenly exclaim, ‘Jerusalem!', just the one word. I could see his eyes were strange as if not focused, his face wore a look I had not seen before and he seemed to barely notice my presence beside him.

‘Are you all right?' I asked him. He nodded but did not speak. ‘What did you see, Nicholas?' I asked.

‘Jerusalem.'

‘Jerusalem? You saw Jerusalem?'

‘Yes, Lord. Yes, Jesus,' he answered or repeated, I cannot say, for his eyes were cast heavenwards.

He lived behind St Mary's on the Kapitol and I stayed with him until we reached the church to be sure he was safely home. But instead of joining the other street children in the alley where they slept he entered the church. I followed and he walked up to the high altar where he collapsed to his knees, then prostrated himself, all the while calling out, ‘Jerusalem!' I knew him to be safe within the church and so made my departure as I was already late and would barely have time to change my clothes before Frau Sarah sent the horse and cart to fetch me to the merchant's house.

Though I am a peasant born, it is ill-fitting when a peasant gains great wealth but with it gains no knowledge or self-improvement. Master Wilhelm, whose birthday party I attended, had made a great fortune when he'd started importing muslin from Egypt and then it was other cloth – damask and silk and, most curious of all, at the most humble end of weaving, hessian for grain bags. In the process he had gained great wealth and could now command the respect of the nobility and claimed a worthy place in the society of Cologne. If ever there was an illustration that money does not purchase manners, it was the goings-on at his birthday party.

If you think because I'd had a few lessons in deportment and good manners and the advantage of seeing how manners work in society that I am coming the high lofty, this was not the case. There were both nobility and old acquaintances at the party and both behaved as badly as the other did. It was just that the peasant does not perceive the grossness he allows and thinks it natural that all should become drunk – the women loud and brazen and the men groping and licentious.

While none took notice of my singing, this was the least of it. Soon there was coupling to be seen in every dark corner and in some places not so dark. As it grew to a later hour both men and women took to spewing out of windows and on several occasions the servants were summoned to clean the floor. I was groped in passing by leering and drunken burghers with Klaus the Louse, drunk himself, unable to, or uninterested in, protecting me. So much for Frau Sarah's older man ever at my side to keep me safe.

Finally, Master Wilhelm, the birthday boy, grabbed me to his vile breast. He was a grossly fat man with his hose near down to his plump knees and his tunic only half covering his huge belly, though fortunately this vile flesh overhung and successfully concealed his one-eyed snake. He pushed me against the wall and tore my gown from my shoulders and started trying to hump me, kissing and covering my breasts with his drunken slobbering, his fat fingers groping my bottom. This was much to the amusement of the other drunks who, both male and female, screamed and clapped in huge delight, egging him on with cries of encouragement.

By this time I had had enough – I was entertainer and not hired whore – and I tore at his face with my nails. ‘Bitch!' he screamed, releasing me and grabbing at his jowl. If his previous fondling was considered amusing, then my scratching became the highest humour of the night and the guests howled and fell about with laughter as the fat bastard withdrew his hand to reveal the blood that now flowed from his puffed and purple-spotted peasant's cheek.

Grabbing my stave I ran from the house where fortuitously our cart and driver waited outside. ‘Klaus will not be coming back with us,' I said, hurriedly jumping into the back. He must have noted my dishevelment, but as with all cart drivers, he customarily saw and knew nothing, having known and seen every form of human bad behaviour worth the knowing and seeing.

‘Home is it then, Miss?' he asked nonchalantly. Then geeing his horse we set off for my lodgings, well past the midnight hour.

The next morning I arrived at St Mary's on the Kapitol where Nicholas and I would attend mass together and afterwards meet Father Hermann prior to working among the street children. We would distribute bread among them and tend to some of their other needs, both spiritual and physical. In the summer they did suffer much from ulcers to their legs and arms and Frau Sarah had shown me a preparation that contained the jelly of the African aloe that did help exceedingly to diminish their suffering. You may imagine my surprise to find Father Hermann and Nicholas on the church steps with maybe two hundred children gathered about them. Moreover, Nicholas stood on the uppermost step, and as I drew closer I realised that he was preaching and that the children cried ecstatically at his every word.

Father Hermann brought a finger to his lips, cautioning me to be quiet as I came to stand beside him. It took but a few moments to realise that the sermon Nicholas preached was both simple and profound and greatly affected the children kneeling below him. I have said before that he was a natural leader, but he had never been one to preach and led mostly by example or direct command. But now he had about him a compelling attraction – it was as though the zealot I had sensed in him now fully possessed his character. Whatever he had seen in his mushroom trance, it had affected him greatly and now his eyes blazed with a burning faith.

Nicholas's sermon came to an end shortly afterwards and Father Hermann could not contain himself. ‘Nicholas, what has happened? You have found God today in a different way from yesterday! You seem profoundly blessed, how came this about?' he cried out.

‘I have seen our Lord, Jesus Christ, in a vision,' Nicholas said simply.

My heart sank. He had promised on his life and sworn in God's name not to tell about the magic mushrooms. Now, the very next day, he was about to confess all to a priest. With his newfound possession of a vision of Christ Jesus, if questioned further he would be compelled to reveal what had happened. I dared not interrupt to stop his confession by announcing that we ought to be going, that it was getting too late to beg from the market people the food we needed to distribute to the poor, that once the markets get started the stall-holders will not stop to sort out the poor-quality produce for alms giving.

BOOK: Sylvia
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