The Green Knight (46 page)

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Authors: Iris Murdoch

BOOK: The Green Knight
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Lucas spoke. He said, ‘I confess that I came here out of curiosity, but did not expect to be bored. To celebrate the occasion my brother has made a pompous nonsensical speech. Let us be content with that. We must all be oppressed by this place, and I suggest that we now go home.'
Clement, ignoring Lucas, went on. ‘I will now remind you of the other aim of this gathering. Dr Mir has suffered, as we all know, from a considerable loss of memory. He believes that a return to the scene of his mishap may, with an intensification of his mental state, break through the black cloud which obscures that which he desires to remember. I suggest that at this moment he should concentrate extremely hard upon the hidden thing or things which he wishes to recall, and that we should sincerely attempt to assist him by a similar silence and intense concentration.' There was another silence. The silence continued.
Bellamy began to pray. His prayer seemed to be taking the form of a dream. He felt his lips falling apart, his hands hanging limp, his body relaxing, his eyes closing under heavy lids. He thought, there is no God, but what I am feeling now is what God is. I must concentrate, no I must simply stay and wait, because what it is is so powerful, so gentle, and so close. I must breathe and be filled with Peter's anguish, desire what he desires and see what he sees. Oh let this vision be given, let him find it, that which he desires and loves, let it come to him and be with him forever. Let me just with the power which fills me now reach out a little more, joining my will to his, thinking only of
this thing
, oh let me see it, let my eyes be his eyes, to see what he has lost and
must find
, for it is nearer now than it will ever be, it is so near – I can see it, only there is a blackness over it, I can see the blackness, oh let it be withdrawn, it is
there
but covered over, let there be light. Bellamy was aware of lifting up his hands which had become weightless, like two birds lifting him from the ground. He gasped for breath, he felt that he was going to faint, he opened his eyes wide and looked up through the opening in the tree toward the sky. He thought, where is the star? It is still there but it has become so large and is so bright. It is moving, it is
falling –
stars fall through the sky and we see them falling – but this star is coming nearer and nearer – perhaps it is a meteorite – it will fall upon us – oh God, it is
an aeroplane on fire
. Bellamy tried to cry out. Suddenly there was a light shining close to him. He saw Peter Mir as if he were
burning
, only he was not being consumed, he was simply
composed of light
, and grown taller, a pillar of light, burning, shining. In this second there was a devastating crash, a deafening sound of tumbling smashing destruction. Bellamy's mouth opened to scream into the sound. Then he saw that Peter, still rigid, still glowing, was falling, his arms at his sides, and would have struck the ground face downward had not Bellamy moved instantly and received him in his arms, collapsing back with Peter on top of him.
 
‘Are you hurt?'
‘No.'
‘Is he hurt?'
‘I don't know. Oh Clement – how terrible.'
‘He must just have fainted. Can't you get out? Just push him up a bit, I'll try and pull him. Damn, where's the torch, I've dropped it somewhere, oh
hell
!' Pitch blackness surrounded them. Bellamy struggled, trying to get some power into his arms and legs, then holding Peter's head up with one hand to prevent it from touching the ground, while Clement was hauling Peter by the shoulders, attempting to turn him over.
‘Get out from under, will you, support him, do you want him to suffocate? Where's the bloody torch?'
Bellamy heaved himself partly out, pushing at Peter's inert body feeling Clement's hand near his, grasping at clothing. ‘Oh, let him not be dead!'
‘Shut up, Bellamy, just
help
me, will you, try to lift him a little, hold onto his head, we must get him onto his back, yes, there that's better.'
The light of the torch played upon the muddied clothes, then upon the face. Peter's face was indeed frightening. It was white, looking like ivory. His mouth was open and his eyes were open, but there was no sign of animation.
Clement said, ‘He's been struck by lightning.'
‘There was something in the sky like a star falling down – or was it an aeroplane – I saw an aeroplane on fire, and there was a crash – oh Clement, did you see him just before, how he looked – ?' Bellamy staggering to his feet, began to moan and sob. He picked up his glasses from the ground.
‘Oh shut up, keep quiet, we don't want anyone to come!'
Clement knelt down. He was aware of Lucas standing beside him. He thought,
it's happening all over again.
He put his hand under Peter's neck, rolled his head a little, shook his shoulders, and began with his other hand to pull at the neck of his shirt. ‘Bellamy, get his tie off, get his
tie
off.'
Bellamy, kneeling on the other side, undid the tie and the shirt. Peter's head and face were wet. The open eyes were dreadful. The rain was falling into the eyes.
Suddenly Peter blinked, he closed his eyes and his mouth, his features moved, his brow wrinkled a little, he turned his head slightly on one side, away from the light of the torch.
‘Thank God,' said Clement. He pulled again at Peter's shoulders, trying with Bellamy's assistance to lift his head a little off the ground. ‘He seems to be breathing all right.'
Peter uttered a very soft moaning sound. He opened his eyes again, then screwing them up. Clement covered the torch with his hand. Peter, still lying flat, seemed to be animating his limbs in an attempt to sit up. Then he almost inaudibly murmured, ‘What happened?'
‘You fainted,' said Clement. ‘It was all that concentrated emotion.'
‘Don't hurry him,' said Bellamy.
Lucas, who had been standing behind them, said, ‘I'm going to get a taxi. Goodnight.' He disappeared into the darkness.
Peter attempted to sit up, failed, then managed to rise a little supported by Bellamy. He was panting and breathing deeply. He said ‘Lift me – just a little more – I don't think I can get up.'
‘Well, you've got to get up!' said Clement. ‘We'll take you home.' He said to Bellamy, ‘We must get him out of here!' He was thinking, suppose someone finds us here, suppose the
police,
find us here!
‘I think I'll – kneel first if I can – if I can turn round – then perhaps you'll both – pull me up – sorry, my legs don't seem – to be there any more. But wait, please – just give me a little time.'
After a minute or so Peter, kneeling, tried several times to rise, supported by the other two. The weight was too much. Bellamy said to Clement, ‘We'll have to get help.' Clement said, ‘No.' At last they hauled him to his feet.
‘Keep him moving.'
‘Which way is it, how do we get out?'
‘We must get to the path. Come on, Peter, you can walk, just
help us
, will you?'
‘Where is my umbrella?'
‘Oh hell. Here it is, I'll carry it. Come on. Bellamy, could you take the torch, shine it down,
down
you idiot, cover it with your hand.'
They reached the path, then crept on a little way, and stopped breathless.
Peter said, ‘I can't drive.'
‘No, of course you can't. I'll drive you home in your car.'
‘I don't think I can remember – where I put it.'
‘It's just behind Clement's car,' said Bellamy.
 
 
‘And turn right here, where the trees are, into the drive, then turning left.'
Peter, sitting passenger in the Rolls, had made a considerable recovery. He had directed Clement with prompt skill. The journey had not been a very long one. Bellamy, sitting in the back, had tried to make out where they were going, but soon became confused.
The car, moving slowly along the drive, stopped in front of a large house, which was all in darkness. Bellamy hastened to help Peter out, they both walked him up the steps to the door, where he fumbled for keys, found them and opened the door. This took a little time since the door appeared to have several different locks. Then the door opened and they entered, Bellamy supporting Peter, Peter switched on a number of lights, dropped his umbrella, and sat down on a chair. They looked at each other. Clement said, ‘I'd better lock the Rolls.'
‘No, no, it must take you and Bellamy home. No need to lock it now, I won't keep you long. I must just sit still for a minute or two.'
‘Is all this house yours?' said Bellamy.
Peter said, ‘Yes.'
‘Sorry. I thought it might be flats.'
‘Shall we help you up the stairs?' said Clement. ‘Do you think you need a doctor? We could ring for one.'
‘No doctor, thank you.'
‘How are you feeling?' said Bellamy. ‘You've had an awful time, you know.'
‘I'm feeling fine.'
‘Someone should stay the night with you,' said Bellamy. ‘I could stay, if you like.'
‘No. I am – all right.'
Clement gave Bellamy a quick look. He said, ‘Thanks about the car but we can get a taxi.'
‘No, no, it's late, you mightn't find one, I'd like you to take it.'
Bellamy thought, is he offering it to Clement as a present?
Clement said, ‘Thanks very much then. I'll bring it back tomorrow.'
‘All right – tomorrow – tomorrow.'
‘I'll leave it in the drive, I'll drop the keys through the letterbox.'
Peter was sitting on a large curly mahogany chair beside a highly polished walnut table. Above the table there was a distinctly modern expensive-looking green and blue picture. Bellamy could not assemble the picture which seemed to be jumping about, the greens now receding while the blues were protruding, the blues receding and the greens palpably protruding. He felt giddy, he felt
exceedingly tired.
The big bright hall full of yellow light seemed like an immense dream bubble with a tilting slanting floor upon which Bellamy felt unable to balance. There was a vista of a huge staircase rising and turning, and a sort of gallery above. He set his feet wide apart. He noticed that his overcoat, which he had instinctively unbuttoned on entering, was smeared with mud. Peter's shirt and part of his jacket and trousers, also his shoes were muddy. His curly hair seemed dark and wet, his dark grey eyes darker, his large beautiful eyes into which tears were dripping, no not tears, rain. During their odd conversation Bellamy had been staring anxiously at Peter and wondering, is he mad? It then also struck Bellamy as odd that all through the business of getting Peter to the car and then travelling in the car he, Bellamy, had
forgotten
the
manifestation.
Now he recalled it. Peter burning. An aeroplane burning. A star falling, or was it lightning? Peter falling. He stared, concentrating upon Peter's face.
Bellamy said, ‘I am seriously worried about you. You are suffering from shock.' Gazing through the golden bubble Bellamy could see a chair,
another
chair. He began to make his way to it, over the parquet floor, then over a priceless oriental rug.
‘Shock – yes – but do not be anxious. I am well, I shall sleep well.'
Bellamy sat down on the chair. He thought, we're putting mud everywhere. He heard Clement's voice saying, ‘Come on Bellamy, time to go home.'
Then Peter's voice saying, ‘Thank you both very much for your help. Now if Bellamy can just assist me up the stairs – '
Bellamy rose from the delightful chair. Peter rose. Clement said, ‘I'll wait down here.'
At the bottom of the stairs, Bellamy said, ‘I'm terribly sorry, my shoes are still muddy, I think I made marks on that lovely rug. I'll take my shoes off here, if you don't mind.' Leaning down, he managed to undo his shoes and kick them off. Peter took hold of the banisters, Bellamy took hold of Peter's arm. Slowly they mounted the stairs.
 
Bellamy, never allowed to know where it was, had of course wondered about the house where Peter lived. Why was he so secretive about it? Was he ashamed of it? Was it very small and mean? Perhaps Peter was not as rich as he claimed to be? Or could there be a
woman
there? Peter had said he was solitary, but had it been naive to believe him? Such thoughts, as they drove along in the car, were however far from Bellamy's mind, he had been praying: oh let him live, oh let him be well, let all be well. And: oh why did we put him into such danger!
Now, sitting in an armchair in Peter's large bedroom beside Peter's large bed, he felt suddenly at peace. Somehow coming up the stairs had done it. At the bottom of the stairs Bellamy had felt weak and exhausted, even afraid he would have to call Clement to support both of them. At the top of the stairs he felt some sort of new energy. Peter seemed stronger and was perhaps communicating some of his strength. Now he sat, watching while Peter switched on lights, pulled the big long curtains across the windows, and removed the embroidered quilt counterpane from the bed. He was glad he had taken his shoes off.
Peter, who had evidently now removed his and was moving about, said, ‘Would you mind staying with me a little longer?'
‘I'll stay all night.'
‘No, just for a very little while. My bathroom is here, would you like to go in?'
‘No, thank you.'
‘I won't be long, I just want to tidy up a bit.'
Peter disappeared into the adjacent bathroom and could be heard splashing the water about. Then he called to Bellamy, ‘There's no towel here, could you get me a towel? They're in the cupboard by the window.'

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