The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B (26 page)

Balthazar B stepped across the gravel and up on the grass. Fitzdare gone now behind the trees and hear the hooves pounding as she turns and comes back racing along the lake. Crouching forward her head turned a little aside. Clods of earth thrown in the air. Closer and closer. The sound bigger and bigger coming up under me. As she reins up to the wall. Walk to her across this croquet lawn. And not show any fear. Nor run outright if she comes up close. Feel so utterly wrong now in my plus twos. Just a sham shy of beasts. With the world so fresh and sunny. Eight o'clock on this morn.

Miss Fitzdare her back straight and face asmile. A flowing pink bandana at her neck, black jacket, boots and hunting hat. See Dingle still charging across my room last night leading all the other quadrupeds. Scattering my cuff links. Sending me clutching up the wall. As he moves close upon me now. This seventeen hands of horse. Towering living pedestal for Fitzdare.

"My you're up already."

"Yes."

"Will you come a ride."

"Well really I'd rather just watch you. The splendid speed."

"Dingle's superbly trim. He's in excellent form. Aren't you Dingle, in excellent form. Specially when the going's firm. You big rascal. Say good morning to Balthazar.' "O no, he needn't do that."

"O you mustn't run. Dingle won't hurt you."

"O my God, hold him back Miss Fitzdare."

"O you awful man calling me Miss Fitzdare."

"I'm just a little shy of horses this morning. Elizabeth."

"Please, Lizzie."

"Lizzie."

"I don't really like the name. But at least it's friendly. Isn't that so Dingle. You wouldn't hurt Balthazar down there now would you. No you wouldn't. He lashes out now and again when he gets nerves. You just mustn't get in close behind him. And he only makes believe he bites."

"I see."

"Let's saddle you up a horse. Have you had breakfast."

"Not yet."

"Well that would be awfully nice. Of Daisy. But."

"Yes come on. I'll take you up on the hills and then we'll have a marvellous breakfast."

Balthazar B walked back across the lawns by the gleaming windows of the house. In there we dined last night. Right in that noble room. Fitzdare's father poured out the port. All dark and splendid. Flowing down the crystal. An eternal sweetness buried deep in the somber ruby red. Under the antlers high up round the walls in the billiard room. Miss Fitzdare gave out with her purring laughter. As I tried so desperately to carom the balls. Giving great attention to chalking my cue. Meaning watch out for my next shot chaps. Send these spheres of elephant tusks dancing a rumba along the cushions. With full masse. But at last to be left deliberating lengthily. Lip pursing and the lot. And all to no avail. As both Fitzdares were gracious and each of unnerving calibre. Reach then for my glass and triumph at quaffing port.

A grey haired ancient groom helped Balthazar B into the saddle. Leading him by the bridle past the stable door. Ah you're right now sir, ready for the St. Leger. With droopy walk and two hanging heads, horse and man crossed out from the courtyard and clip clopped down the farm road and left through an opening into the fields. Fitzdare waiting there. Laughing gay encouragement and greeting. To lead them along a cypress avenue and steeply up a rocky path from these bottom fields climbing to the table land. This great wide animal beneath me. Female. A wafting breeze could bring a signal to a male. O my Lord, Dingle may try and jump her. Bite my ass right out of the saddle. Like last night. I wouldn't stand a chance.

Fitzdare racing ahead into the morning sunlight. Soft summer breeze blowing across the hills. And up at last now to see the great arching strides of Dingle stretching over the hard packed grass. Rising up like a great invincible ghost over walls without a change of stride. As I dismounted to go through the gates. Pulling and tugging to get back up on Daisy again. Until she leaned suddenly down to gobble up some succulent herb and I slid forward and spun clinging round her neck to land spreadeagled on the moist ground.

The curlews whistling and kestrels hovering against the wind. As I came walking back. To sit with her at the open breakfast room windows, a bow front jutting out in the rays of sun. A great painting along the wall "Coming Together Of The Meet By The Shores Of The Lough.' Spotted leaping hounds and red coated gentlemen on long bodied horses. The sideboard of hot plates and silverware. Sausages, tomatoes, bacon and butters. Hen's eggs and gull's eggs, syrups and creams. Toast and urns of steaming tea and coffee. With most memorable and delectable of all. Gooseberry jam.

"I thought you did awfully well, I really did. A lot of people are shy of horses. I shouldn't have been mean and made you ride."

"Going up the hill was fine. But I got used to leaning forward so that when she leaned forward to eat the grass it turned awkward."

And we went off through the mornings and wandered along the lake. Strolling past a field of mares and foals. Another of milk cows. She was so good to me. Not to ask that I should ride again. We watched a blackbird wiping its orange beak on a green bronzed apple branch. All these avian creatures looking so proud sitting in the trees. And I said that really and most honestly I would tell the truth that I was a picnic man. To proceed so bravely now. With this wicker basket of picnic things. Build Fitzdare a fire. Pass her chunks of cucumber or biscuits sweet with chocolate specks. I could be a cave man too if only a cave could be found somewhere nice.

"What."

"OI just wanted to say your name."

"O."

"I like it. And also just today you know Fm so happy that you're here. Took all my courage to ask you to come. I wanted you to meet my father. He's nice isn't he."

"Yes. He's very nice."

"A lonely man. I don't think he's ever got over losing my mother. And it's so many years ago. I had a little brother too. He was drowned with his nannie in a boat out on the lough. Just a few yards from shore. Daddy has his two spinster sisters who come to visit. They spend nearly all their time weaving and making jam. The gooseberry you like. My skirt's their cloth. Daddy should have married again. I sometimes wish he did. At twelve one still needs a mother. Some nice woman. He has friends who come to shoot. But he's lost interest now. I suppose that this, this whole place will have to go. The ruined castle there on the little island. The land reeks with history. I often think what sorrows passed here. Long before one's own."

Gulls wheeling by under the greying heavens. And the far away moaning of a cow. The distant web of stone walls making little fields on the hill sides dotted with specks of sheep. The mountaintops purple. And east the sky a rusty tint. As Balthazar B stood, a hogskin gloved hand holding tightly the picnic basket and turning to see two blue eyes made bluer by the sky. The splendid laughing voice.

"O gosh come on, I'll race you to that dead tree."

Miss Fitzdare ran. In her strange and horsey way. Feet flying out to her sides. The thick green tweed she wore with all the tiny little bits of colour. The long coat belted round the middle with its big square pleated pockets. A golden scarf at her throat and her hair flying free. We stopped by a little stretch of sand by the lough shore. And I went finding stones and built a fireplace while Fitzdare gathered sticks and brush. I said watch it will only take me one match. And it took eighteen. To start the flames. She lay along her side in the thick clumps of grass contemplating me. As I enacted so urgently one little catastrophe after another. Till finally I managed a stone slab bridged over the flames and put the sausages roasting there. She smiled and was pleased.

"They're really cooking aren't they. I think you're wonderful."

The tiny kettle placed to boil. A pot of tea was served. Light yellow little cups and saucers. Stirred with silver spoons. We were covered in great linen napkins, swallowing down slices of quince and orange chunks of Leicester cheese. Patches of light in the southern sky. Westwards there must sink a redless sun. And I remembered a strange moment which seems so long ago. In the chemistry laboratory. Fitzdare working at a titration. Turning the glass stirrer in her solution. As she does now the spoon in her tea. And I watched spellbound as she took a spatulate of sulfur and melted it on an iron ladle over her bunsen flame. While I stood blank minded and bemused with my own haphazard group of substances, staring at her beauty and I nearly died when I thought she glanced and winked at me.

The afternoon passing away. Adrift. As the tiny tints of darknesses push west out of the east. We sit on these boggy bunches of grass. With the warm mellow taste of tea. Chewing chunks of cucumber and these brown little spicy meats. Moved back from the fire's exploding stones in the heat. Watching the fading glow. Two great black ravens. Feather fingers of their wings squawking as they squeezed down against the air and passed overhead. To dive and sideslip over the water and disappear into a meadow ringed with trees. Their low deep throated calls. And Miss Fitzdare lies staring at me as my eyes turn to hers.

"Balthazar."

"Yes."

"Would you marry me."

She sits propped up on her elbows near enough to touch her hand. And smells all heathery and milky fresh. As I smell of smoke and burning sausage fat. Daisy flowers peeking white and yellow from the grass. I race a thousand miles away. Over oceans and up through glaciered valleys sliding on the ice, shouting out questions against the snowy mountains and cold blue sky. Give me back an answer. From all the centuries of thinking. And a voice whispers, my dear man the world was never different and all hearts love the same. And now I can't get my mouth to speak.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you that. I guess it's taken you very much by surprise. And I suppose there's someone else in your life."

"No. There isn't anyone else."

"Please. I didn't mean to say what I did, I just blurted it out, I don't know why. I was saying it before I knew what I was saying. And I don't mean to pry."

"And you want to take it back."

"No not really I don't."

A blade of grass squashing green, rubbed back and forth between Fitzdare's fingers. Little splashing waves falling against the shore. To come very close to her. Put my arm out under her shoulders. For the first time. Waited all these months. I kiss her. Lips stretched hard across her teeth. Her hesitating hand on the back of my neck. My nose goes buried under her hair. Nudging against a soft tender lobe of ear with nothing I can say. Unbuckle her belt, open her coat, four horn buttons undone and feel her breasts under lamb's wool. Nipples hardening there. The muscles of her arms go soft. And now her mouth under my lips. Opens tasting sweet. Despite the scandal which raged through college. Would you marry me she said. Under a deep deep blue above. Where stars come out amany across a great hushed canopy. When wisps of wind veer in off the lough. Be a little family here. Away from all the rest of the world. Singled out and now embrace this strange Fitzdare. Far from the grasping hands of the ruffian. Who could threaten me with bloody noses and black eyes. And now she will marry me. Both of us so lonely to say come please. Just the one of you to be with the one of me. Not through duty or because you must. But come because there is a breeze sprinkled with butterflies. And something in your heart says something to mine that neither can hear. But we know we must. We must. Stay close together. While cattle go mooing by. O God Fitzdare. My pole is shivering stiff between my legs. And my breath won't stay still. How can I tell you now. O God as the sperm spurts down my leg. A pearly liquid my Bella once held in her hand. And sown in her made a son. Wrap me tightly please as I hold you and softly cry. To tell you this. Love may be all the things you never know. As who sits beneath those slanting beams of sun. With little hammers under the rainbows counting crocks of gold. That's why I softly cry. And tell you. I have a son. I've not been married but I want you to know. It was with a woman when I was very young. And will it mean you don't want me now. And her arms squeezed me tight. She said. Nothing you say could make a difference but how sad for you. How very very sad. That it makes me cry too. Strange anyone would ever think you fast. And I know you're not. In spite of all the stories one can't help hearing at college. I want to say something to you now. That I'm happy you told me this. And I only want to hold you. And say your name. Balthazar. A fish jumped and splashed out on the silvered water. In all the silence around us here. Lying tightly held in each other's arms. The fire glows out its last heat. A curlew goes high whistling from its long curved beak. Over evening deeps. Sleeping. A little boy. Some little fellow. His heart a brother's heart. Gone away too.

Where

Flowers

Live.

21

The days gently flew. Like all the birds passing over the rolling low hills and island dotted loughs of Fermanagh. When rain wet Miss Fitzdare's hair and made little white holly blossoms of moisture there.

On that picnic afternoon we kissed as we walked and walked and kissed again. Up and down meadows to go deep among the haunted trees. To see the gravestones of her mother and little brother. And nannie of nine years faithful service. Under thick yew branches. Where the chiseled words said their names. And here on this hillock and small walled clearing in the wood, her father would be buried. And if never she married she might rest too.

That evening we stood out under the sky when dinner port and billiards were done. A moonlight on the lough. And Miss Fitzdare cupped her hands to her mouth and blew hoots. Which came back answered by owls for miles around. And I watched her go down a candle lit hall, waving back and blowing kisses as I stood at my door. Would she ever tell me where she lived. In all this big house. What turning would I take in the night. In what wing and up what stair would I find her. Which door to open. And step in.

I fell at last to sleep. Passing in a dream into a college dance. At the door a chaperoning member of the faculty asked me where I was going. I said to the college hop. He said are you a member of this university. I was shattered, taken aback and angered by this aspersion. I grabbed him by his black gown. Gathering the cloth tightly in my fist and slamming him back against the wall. He was such an absolutely tiny person, no bigger than a rather small midget. And I was immensely much encouraged. To wrap him up in his great long scarf around his neck and juggle him nicely in my hand. But I might break his very white thin little wrists. And that wouldn't do. I was so amazed when he remained calm. Can't even scare people in dreams. And so I put my fingers in his collar and turned my knuckles in against his throat. Still this professor remained unflappable. And indeed was uppish. So I clouted him a medium blow on the cheek. Really only a finger flick. For the first time a little fear came into his eyes. I was so pleased. I said if you breathe a word of this to anyone and I am sent down from this university I will come back and kill you. By a resounding blow by truncheon across the mandible. And if you're not here I will search you out over the ends of the earth. Including the tourist depths of Killarney. And jump upon you from the dark. I left him there quite a bit disturbed. And I proceeded back from the dance to my college rooms. I had a great white throne for a crapper with frilly tassels about the seat. And a bath steaming with scents shielded with a Chinese lacquered screen. Horace stood in red raiment and white leather gaitors sprinkling perfumed salts from a crystal ladle and then suddenly there stood someone in the rising steam. Seemed a father of some girl I had wronged. Then the figure turned white and faded again till the wronged daughter was standing there. Where her father stood. And the whole wall was moving. And I was sure now I was awake and sitting up. In the streaming moonlight. And there God help me was Fitzdare. Coming right out of the wall. And said across the darkness as I reared in fear. It's me. And that was before I knew it was anything at all. And the wall behind her closed again. And tip toeing now to turn the key and lock my door. Returning smiling to my bed in a black silk dressing gown opened over her lavender gentleman's pyjamas. Her teeth biting into her lower lip, eyes alight with mischief I'd never seen before. I was aghast that this was still a dream. And said tell me is it true. And she came out with a purring laughter.

And said yes. And yes again when her cold foot touched mine. She was trembling now. Balthazar I didn't think you'd mind. That I would come to you. Because I knew you wanted to come to me. I said for God's sake are you real. Yes you can see and feel all you want. This was a king's room before my mother's centuries ago and he had his mistresses visit him. And I don't want to waste any time. So I came too. Before you go. And are gone to London. And may never come back. But now. In just that jiffy we were out of our pyjamas. Her breasts seemed so big and white in all this heartbeating utter reality that I was amazed. So much lay hidden under wool. The muscles of her belly and strength of her legs. I die to do what's expected. Not easy without practice. With someone you think you know becoming someone else all new again.

Fitzdare grunted, groaned and growled. Grabbing me fiercely by the perpendicular and a too firm grasp by the balls. That I had to say out a little squeal of agony. And she drew back and said Pm sorry. Put your hand there again, just a little more softly now. To push and press my pole slowly down and down. On top of her here. Is her hole. Seems so small that there is nowhere to go. And now I'm there. Wrapped as she is all around me. And she said no, no one has ever been in me before. So hard to believe I am the first. But she said you are. And if I am. The first. How are you like you are. So unafraid. To give me your body. And just take off your clothes like that. In a jiffy. She said it's all because I wanted to. Over all these months at Trinity. I planned to get you just like this. Right here in this bed. Even on this day of the week and week of the month, with moonlight in the window. I planned it all. Right from the first day I winked at you if you can remember. At chemistry practical. I remember. And I thought if ever I got you here. I'd put you in my mother's room and come as I've come there through the secret door. It's dusty up and down the stairs and cobwebs all along through the walls. And I can't tell you all the hundred nights I dreamt of this, to sneak here from my room. I knew I would never wait for marriage. And I guess my only weakness was. I just had to ask you. To marry me. First. I knew it might frighten you away. But then I'd never let you go. Were you frightened. No. Ha, I know you're not, because Fve got you locked up here in my arms. And do you. Ever think you could marry me. Please don't say what you think I want to hear. Just tell me what you feel. Well I would have to consult my trustees. A little quiver in Fitzdare. At these words. Balthazar tell me. Are you awfully rich. Lizzie it seems so funny. But I don't honestly know. Each time I've ever asked, my trustees, all of them to a man, turn slowly and look out the window. So I've always just gone on requesting drafts and signing checks. And they write that they advise caution in my expenditure. God love me Balthazar. Push it all the way in. Like that. O God please give it to me. Ever inch and every drop. I pushed. To think I may be at stud. A gigantic fee paid for this nomination. In the paddock of Fitzdare. And how she got me here. To love. When all the time in my heart my tongue hung out to the edge of my heels. The blinding flashing explosion when it goes into someone you love. The whole world changes on nearly every turn. And dies in front of you and all the people run. To gather sticks and prayers to burn and pray because it all must start again. Little eyes, little lips, and maybe you can then say please, if all the others die, don't let me. Hold on to you Fitzdare through all the years to come. Till we stroll old and grey. Past perhaps your barn full of cows as we did one day when they turned to look wild eyed. Under the brown smoked rafters. Twitching big oval ears. Standing on nobby legs swishing tails. Their curly hair you rubbed between their horns. And you trod with such dignity in the cow flop on the golden straw. I saw you hug your new born calves. And show me their big long lashed eyes and the new white ivory hooves clean from the womb and you said they're so sweet and milky aren't they, their noses so moist and sniffing. Standing steamy in the hay, licked by a big long tongued mother. The sound of piss, and milk pinging in pails. The barn clanking, cows shaking their chains, jaws full of munching hay. And when I asked could you milk a cow, you did. I was enthralled. With evil thoughts. As you sat there on the little stool so expert with your two handed pistol shots shooting out the white streams. And one which you sent right out on my boot. I laughed. And my perpendicular went down. And went up again motoring to see Celtic crosses in your funny little car. And Fitzdare I ask you. Are you awfully rich. Yes, I think so. My father is in linen, ships and tea. I had an uncle who lived across the lough. When I was a little girl he had whipped cream on his porridge in the morning. He lost his fortune in America and came back to drink himself to death. And always used to tuck me under the chin and say be glad you're rich. And I never was. It always made me sad. So many are so poor. Their troubles come swarming. It gets so hopeless for them because they think the world can't stop. It sometimes helps to think it can. And the skeletons come dancing out of all our closets. As you did Lizzie out of the wall. Like the night air in the window. Then that sound. What was that. A death in the woods. A night time creature meeting doom. Makes one want to live before one dies. Dress up and look nice for the world. The two of us. I must fly to London. Tell my trustees. That we will wed. Have your white fine body always mine. And Beefy best man. To punch anyone who says they know cause or just impediment why we two persons should not be joined together in holy matrimony. Or not lie so happy like this. Third time of orgasm entwined. In the sight of God. Smelling your sweet sweat. In Fermanagh. Satisfied of lusts and appetites. So discreetly ordained by Fitzdare. She rolls her body all over mine. I lie unthinking and still. Hoping not to hear another creature meeting doom out in the wood. And be haunted. On this our honeymoon. She covers my back with her arms. Pushing her fingers through my hair behind my ears. The church bells will ring when we wed. The ruffian might come screaming at the last moment down the aisle. With a cause unjust. Stabbing an impediment between us. That we may not be joined together. That I laid Breda out in the direction of Baldoyle. Not nice the bitter days of judgment. When the secrets of all hearts are dug up. And the stolen gold falls out. Balthazar, will we like each other always. I felt your seed come into me. Way way up inside. I know so much sadness lies outside in the world. And we could bring it something good. It's so honest the way we touch each other. I don't feel I'm sinning. Do you. If we love each other. As I do at least love you. I'll tell Pappy in the morning. Not what we did tonight, my goodness. But what we want to do for always and always. He'll be so pleased. He likes you. But if you've any doubt that you want to marry me, please say. It would be too painful, I know, if I felt because I love you so much that I trapped you. I think I did. But I'll wash and clean and scrub. And manicure your nails. I'll bring you breakfast. And go with you anywhere. Over the whole wide earth. And the tears I cry are tears of love.

I lay with Fitzdare till the dawn came up. And never slept a wink. She went to sleep buried under her dark hair. I was nervous and feared of the blood we left staining through the sheet. That someone else outside one's life will come and see and know. And it will go all whispered through the house. To servants and grooms and keepers out to other houses for miles around. I sneezed Fitzdare awake and she scrambled out and crossed to the window. Standing naked silhouetted against the satin drape. I looked at her back and bottom shining by the morning light. Then she went away and came back with clean bedding. And said I'll tell Pappy, maybe you both could meet at ten. And that morning in the little library beyond the drawing room. As I came in. Wiping a moisture from my brow. Eyes tired and limbs ashake. Would he see the desperate satisfaction on my face. And how and what do I ask. I think they say can I have your daughter's hand in marriage please. And he rises to shake mine.

"Good morning. I think I can call you Balthazar.' "Yes. Indeed. Sir."

"Sit down. I'm sure I can help us both a little. By saying I'm extremely pleased."

"Thank you sir. I've never done this before."

"Well, ha ha, I'm sure we both hope it's the first and last time. There's been good word of you from every quarter. You're young but you'll manage. The General particularly spoke highly. As did my brother in Greystones. Who are your principals."

"Bother, Writson, Horn, Pleader and Hoot, sir."

"Good show. I know Horn. I've served with Hoot. My chaps will be in touch. I don't think there's any more we need say. Except I hate to lose Elizabeth. And you may have this place on your head one day. Dry rot, fallen slates, drains, poachers and woodworm. But never mind. You're young. You'll prevail. And I know Lizzie will be very happy. And that's what matters."

The moment of dread. Like nothing at all. And suddenly with a smile and handshake one has the precious Fitzdare. And one rides with her now holding her hand and sitting close together all the way to Dundalk. To catch a train instead of my cancelled plane. And go south to Dublin town through Drogheda and out along the wintry looking shore. We kissed on the station. We would marry in the fall.

And riding on this train. Through Donabate and Malahide. Over the flat stretches and estuary waters. Fitzdare stood high on her toes as she waved goodbye. And last thing we shook hands. Seeing in each other's eyes. And suddenly she wouldn't let me go. And clung as my hand reached down from the window and she ran along the platform tears streaming from her eyes. And the sight of her when I looked back was her head bent down.

The houses grim and tinted red as we dip down into Dublin over the river Tolka. Breda, that little wisp of wiry fighting girl, gone from Cabra somewhere with her jewel. Click clack past buildings tall dark and tattered. Citizens in this summer time go greyly overcoated, black belted through the streets.

How will I ever find Beefy to tell him the news. And at the hotel desk an envelope left. I opened it rising up in the lift cage past the crimson coveredfloors.

My dear Balthazar,

I have had a debacle. Had hoped to catch you back. Will call again this early eve. Believe me when I say a pox upon the elderly. But let us be goodish and deter distress.