The Green Knight (31 page)

Anax, following without hesitation his computer guide, had reached his first main objective, Kensington Gardens, and was now beside the Round Pond, where he stopped to drink the muddy water, chilling his throat and his paws. He (too) had had no breakfast and was feeling hungry. He was also uneasily aware that he was not wearing his collar, and that troubled him. He felt undressed, unsafe. A mob of water-birds, ducks, swans, Canada geese, even a moorhen, were gathered jostling and fighting in the shallow water for pieces of bread which some children were throwing. Pigeons and sparrows were waiting hopefully upon the path for crumbs. A crust carelessly thrown fell near Anax and he snapped it up, just forestalling a pigeon. When he tried to seize another piece of bread he was threatened by a goose advancing from the water and he retreated. The children laughed at him. He looked at them with his baleful blue eyes and they stopped laughing. One of them shouted at him. He turned and ran away with a purposive air. A little way away some dogs were playing and he paused with them for a moment and pretended to play too, but his heart was not in it, and anyway they were rather rough. Anax did not really like other dogs, and regarded them one and all as an inferior species. A little further on some boys were playing football with a big black labrador who had learnt to dribble the ball with his nose. People passing by were laughing. Anax scorned the animal's undignified behaviour. Nearby some gardeners were burning a pile of dead leaves, and the fierce burning smell mingled with the chill fog smell. Anax sneezed. He paused in the longer grass and stood quite still. Suddenly the spirit that directed him had seemed to fail. A woman came up to him and spoke kindly to him and stroked him, and he wagged his tail absently. He walked on, moving his long grey muzzle slowly to and fro.

Clement had by this time left the High Street by the road which led to the Serpentine bridge. Pulling himself together and trying to imagine what Moy would be likely to do, he decided that if she had come to the Gardens, she would stay there, at least for some time, conjecturing that if Anax got that far he too would stay, and converse with other dogs. (Neither Clement nor Moy reckoned with Anax's contempt for these animals.) He parked his car near the bridge and set off on foot along the edge of the Long Water, calling out occasionally, ‘Moy!', ‘Anax!' When he neared the Fountains he gave up these cries which sounded so bizarre and unnatural, and turned back, making a detour across the grass. In doing this he passed in fact quite close to Anax who, the magnetic ray having resumed its force, was now running diagonally in the direction of the Marlborough Gate. As they passed Speke's Obelisk, Anax on the west and Clement on the east, they were scarcely more than two hundred yards apart. If at that moment Clement had caught sight of the dog and had managed to capture him, the fates of a number of people in this story would have been entirely different. Such is the vast play of chance in human lives. However, this did not happen and as Anax disappeared in the direction of the Gate, Clement had decided to return to his car. He sat quietly in the car for a few minutes, suddenly entertaining a vivid mental picture of Aleph long-legged upon her bicycle, and for a few seconds it was as if it were Aleph whom he was so anxiously seeking and running to earth. Perhaps they would meet at Marble Arch. In fact at that moment Aleph, following Clement's intuition that girl and dog might both be somewhere in the park, had left her bicycle, carefully though perilously chained up at Speaker's Corner, and was exhibiting her long legs by hurrying in the direction of the Reservoir. At that moment also Sefton, having mistakenly turned left at the Blomfield Road bridge, was lost, quite unable to find her way back to the canal. As Clement set off again, driving slowly in the direction of the Victoria Gate, Anax was already running up Sussex Gardens.

When Anax reached Marylebone Road he crossed it confidently at the traffic lights at Lisson Grove. He did not (another fateful decision) go up Lisson Grove, but set off ‘across country' passing Marylebone Station and Dorset Square and entering into a complex of small streets. The conception of Regent's Park may even have been by now present to his courageous mind. But here, where he might almost have thought himself on home territory, his daemon really began to fail. Perhaps his loss of certainty was simply due to exhaustion, he had travelled a long long way alone, his paws were hurting, his high heart was daunted. Several times now he hesitated at corners, even retraced his steps. He was going on, farther and farther – but perhaps in the wrong direction. He kept pausing and looking about him. When he raised his leg at a sack of rubbish he was confronted by a mouse. The mouse seemed fearless. It regarded Anax. Anax felt pity for the mouse, or something more like affinity, respect. He did not wantonly kill other creatures as cats do, and some dogs are taught to do. He felt such a strange feeling, as if he had lost his identity and become part of some immense world being. He ran on quickly, then walked, hoping still to regain the magnetic message, along a road which prompted no recognition, where railings enclosed the front gardens of big houses. As he passed one of these gardens Anax received an unmistakable communication, the smell of food. The iron gate was open. He entered. He traced the smell to its source. Near to a side door of the house there had lately been laid (for it was still warm) a bowl containing a mixture of meat fragments and biscuit. The meat was
good
. Anax set about the bowl, pushing it along with his nose. After a mouthful or two of the excellent food he was interrupted by a sharp exclamation and a smell which he disliked extremely. He lifted and saw, two yards away from him, a large black and white cat, clearly the legitimate owner of the bowl and its contents. Anax's attitude to cats was conventional. His master had taught him not to chase them. (Whereas squirrels could be chased but of course not caught.) But the instinct of enmity, the dislike, the contempt, also the fear, remained. The cat was an alien, a foe, unlucky, dangerous. The sound it had just uttered was neither a hiss nor a mew, but a loud violent utterance which might have belonged to a large bird, a hoarse piercing squawking cry of hate. Anax, facing the cat, retreated, he growled but softly, not a ferocious threat, more like a firm admonition. The cat followed. Its large luminous green eyes horribly slit with black stared hypnotically at Anax and its large white paws moved majestically as with evident intent it advanced. Anax felt that if he turned tail the cat would spring upon him, he pictured it landing upon his back. He continued to retreat, growling, and watching the luminous eyes. Then suddenly the cat leapt towards him. Anax saw the animal rise, all four paws leaving the ground, and seeming to hover, arrested for a moment in his attention, as he stared at the open mouth of his enemy, its white teeth, its red tongue, its open throat, and breathed in the vile effluvium of its breath. At the next moment Anax had leapt too, twisting sideways in the air and streaking for the open gate. The cat's claws touched the thick fur of his tail. Then he was running as fast as he could along the pavement. There was no pursuit, only a distant trilling bird-cry of mockery.

Meanwhile Clement had passed Marble Arch, been delayed by a traffic jam in Oxford Street, and turned up Gloucester Place. He was so tired and fed up that at moments he forgot what he was supposed to be doing, though he continued to look about him and to follow the ‘trail'. He kept on going over and over his new awful situation, the mistakes he had made and the sins he had committed. When Lucas had handed him the weapon and told him to go away and keep his mouth shut, Clement had simply
obeyed
his elder brother. Nor did it occur to him during the trial that he, Clement, was potentially a very valuable witness, or that his silence might do damage to an innocent person. When the victim ‘died' Clement felt some vague pity and a considerable relief. They had all kept away from Lucas's ordeal, they did not want to embarrass him by being inquisitive spectators, they had preferred not to reflect about it, only hoping for it to be over and Lucas, of course, cleared of any shadow of wrong-doing. During the period of Lucas's disappearance Clement had as if
forgotten
the dreadful happening. He was taking refuge in this respect with ‘the others', more occupied with worrying about Lucas's whereabouts, his welfare, even the possibility that he had killed himself. He had missed Lucas, he had
wanted
Lucas, as a younger brother might want an older brother who had always been kind to him, a protector, like a father. Am I mad, Clement wondered, am I not aware that he intended to kill me? I have busied my mind with wrapping up that fact, de-realising it, making it not to be. Anyway, he didn't kill me, and he might not have done, even if I hadn't been rescued by poor Peter Mir. Very likely he wouldn't have done it, he would have found it impossible. Now it's all got mixed up, Mir has an extra motive for hating Lucas, for not forgiving him, Lucas not only damaged Mir, destroying his life as he says, he was also engaged at the time in an attempted murder and so is revealed as an evil man, who cannot get away with it by talking about accidents. The picture of Lucas is darkened, it's lurid, it's bloodstained, he is presented as a villain. Well, he is a villain, perhaps he ought to be punished! But what, in all this, am I to do, what will happen now, if Mir tells the police and the press and they start to interrogate
me
? I'll figure as an accomplice in my own murder! Or else – in
Lucas's
murder. If Mir exposes Lucas I shall be blamed too, I shall have to give evidence, Lucas will be put in prison, and perhaps I shall as well. If Mir decides to go it alone and employs someone to do the job, if Lucas is found dead and I have been silent, never revealed to anyone that Lucas might be in danger, then I shall be guilty of Lucas's death.

These thoughts, like sharp roving pains, occupied the deeper parts of Clement's mind as he drove slowly in the evening traffic along Gloucester Place. Trying to concentrate upon the task which Louise had put upon him, to find Moy and Anax, he told himself that probably by now they were both safely back at home. He said to himself, ‘I'll find a telephone box, I'll ring Clifton and – ' He suddenly jammed on the brakes and swung the car aside out of the traffic, mounting two wheels onto the pavement. He had seen Moy. Or was it an apparition, a
thought
of Moy? He jumped out of the car and ran back, then forward, bumping into people. Had he really seen her, little Moy, walking slowly along, dressed in trousers and a jersey? Yes, it was Moy, she had seen him, she had run to him and he was leaning down to embrace her, putting his arms round her as she leant against him.

‘Oh Moy,
thank God
!'

‘Have you found Anax?'

‘No, but Sefton and Aleph are out looking for him. What a miracle that I saw you, I'm so glad, I was looking for you, I'll take you home, we've been so terribly worried. Anax has probably gone back to your house by now, he wouldn't have gone far away. Come now, why you haven't got a coat, we'll go back home.'

‘No, no, I must go on, I'll walk on, you go on by car, he must have gone back to Bellamy's house, where Bellamy used to live – you go on,
please
, in the car.'

‘I'm not going to leave you, now that I've miraculously found you! Do as I tell you, come. All right, if you like we'll drive on as far as Bellamy's place. Heavens how cold it is and you haven't any coat!'

With murmurs of protest Moy climbed into the car and Clement drove on in the slow procession of evening cars. Moy beside him was shuddering. He reached out his warm hand and touched, then held, her hand. It was icy cold. ‘You're frozen! I'll turn up the heating, you'll soon be warm in here. Poor little Moy, fighting with a swan, they told me, and now this!'

‘It's all my fault, I should have closed the door, we'll never find Anax, he'll be run over, he may be dead by now, oh why didn't I – '

‘Don't worry, he's all right, we'll find him, he'll come back – '

Moy was holding tightly onto his hand and had lifted it and was pressing it against her cold cheek. Now it seemed she was kissing it. She moaned and said, ‘Oh Clement – '

He withdrew his hand, giving her a brisk pat on the shoulder. ‘There, there, Moy. Don't expect too much of me. You know I'm very fond of you. But you're so young and I'm getting on in years! Don't waste your love on me. It's not real love, you know, it's just a childish fancy! You'll find love later on, when you've grown up, I'm sure you'll find lots of young men – ' As soon as he had uttered this absurd tactless speech Clement regretted it bitterly. Why on earth had Louise told him to trouble the child with such a lecture, her simple hero-worship did no harm! He heard Moy draw in her breath and felt her move away, gathering herself against the door of the car. For a second he pictured her opening the door and jumping out. He tried to think of something emollient to say. Louise had asked him to try to cool this childish passion and now he had blundered and caused pain, what did it matter anyway if she imagined herself in love with him, he ought to be grateful! He heard a slight sound and realised she was crying.

Anax was now completely lost. He had hurried on, then wandered randomly on, trying to recognise some landmark or be guided in some direction, but now he had given up hope, he had lost all sense of orientation. The magnetic beam was quenched, the purposeful certainty, the energy, which had made him able to run so far and so fast, had vanished from him. He felt tired, hungry, and now frightened. Darkness was falling, the street lights were on. He could not conceive of retracing his steps, he did not know where he had come from, he felt no motive to go on, yet was unable and unwilling to stop. When he stood uncertainly at corners people stared at him. He had to pretend he was going somewhere. He felt shame and misery at the idea of being seen to be a
lost dog
. A little rain was falling. The night would come, the night when he had used to settle to sleep in safety – but
this
night would find him still walking, still wandering, homeless. What could he do, walk till he dropped? He feared everything, everyone, every human was now his enemy. Even the thought of his master, the great certainty which had illumined his life and made his joy, was confused, made senseless, covered in darkness, as if it had never been. He had no identity, no being. A horror had seized him like a black dream, a memory of a time before time, before his master had come to him.