The Luminist (15 page)

A Boy Who Remains

REVEREND AULT SET DOWN HIS TEACUP SO MARY COULD refill it. “I'm told the soldiers have searched through the southern country and found no evidence to identify the perpetrators of the Galle Face's desecration.”

Eligius hid his bruised face in the mid-day murk of Charles' shuttered study. There was some comfort to be found in the gloom that the memsa'ab always complained of. It reminded him of his hut in Matara. So little of the light found a way in.

“You left word with the villagers in Matara, then.” Catherine raised her cup, sending Mary back to the scullery for the kettle and another muslin bag of tea. “Someone beat this boy terribly.”

“I must report that I did not. There were no men in the village. Only women.”

“Stephen,” Charles said, “it's vitally important that you get word to Governor Wynfield and the other directors, that they are to come to me today. We have to discuss this. Afire such as this is slow to spread, but eventually it will.”

That day, the Colebrooks found easy tasks for Eligius to do. He helped Mary cut cold pheasant for lunch, ground the bird's feathers down to a fine point so Julia might have some writing materials, cleaned the study floor while the sa'ab read a treatise on land rights that bore his name. They were tentative with him, and he thought that it was not all attributable to his injuries. Even Julia, who emerged from Holland House in the late afternoon
and took her quills without a word, looked at him as if he were painful with light.

The full Court – nine men in all, ones he'd seen and some he had not – arrived at twilight to an inviting fire and trays of brandy in the study. “Stay near,” Charles told him, “lest their glasses go unnoticed.”

Of the directors present, most seemed aligned with the governor; they even sat on his side of the study. Two remained with Charles. One was older, rotund and pinched around his eyes. The other was a younger man, tall and thin, with a whippet's spastic alertness and a beard like dusted curtain cord.

Wynfield spoke first. “I have gone forward with my bill on the taxes to the provinces. It will come to a vote of the Court, then on to Parliament. I believe the roll favors me, my friends. I ask your support. Justice Newhope, I see you itch to speak.”

The older director rose from his seat at Charles' side. “We've all heard of the havoc to the north, and it began with an exodus of the men. They bought arms and within weeks there were homes and trades ablaze. Trouble has found us. Should we now levy another property tax here in the southern country, upon men who could not meet the last one and show a penchant for outrage against the church of England? Is it not the height of irresponsibility to push them to their limit?”

“Surely Ceylon doesn't know of the occurrences so far north,” Wynfield said. “Lack of communication plagues these people, but it can be a boon in such times. These are not related acts.”

Charles leaned forward until he could peer out the study door. “Come here, Eligius.”

Eligius brought a brandy snifter and stood in the doorway to the study. “Tell us,” Charles said, “how long it takes you to walk to our gate from Matara.”

“Less than half the night, sa'ab.”

“It is not so much, then,” Charles said, “to consider men trekking through the jungle, passing word to each village. Let me tell you my thoughts on this bill. Word will spread that our
interests have been attacked in Jaffna, and now the port. A hike in taxes that they cannot bear that all the pawnbrokers in Madurai cannot fund? Governor, haven't we already given them reason enough to despise our presence?”

Their eyes drilled holes in the back of Eligius' head as he filled glasses and emptied pipe ashes into an urn.

“It is my wish,” Wynfield said, “to avoid violence.” He picked up a framed cartograph of Ceylon from Charles' desk. “But these men, these howling fools at the Court gates, stand on the precipice of a terrible day. Perhaps your servant can explain their conduct to me. Is this a holiday of some kind? Something for the men alone, that the villages should empty of them?”

Eligius remained quiet.

“ Tell me, boy.”

“It is not.”

Charles clutched his heavy woolen coat about his body. It was as if he resided alone in a country of eternal cold. “Do you know where your fellows are, Eligius?”

He shook his head.

“If you know anything of the men of your village,” Newhope said, “you must tell us.”

“I was with my mother on your Sunday. The other men were still there with their sons.”

“What were they doing?”

“Watching my beating.”

“For what reason were you beaten?” Charles coughed, bringing a sodden handkerchief to his lips.

“No reason was given.”

“There's been no end of trouble in the provinces,” Wynfield said. “Men like these abandon their responsibilities to mere children. Or is there something else to their disappearance, boy?”

Eligius looked to Charles. The old man seemed intent on the map in Wynfield's hands.

“Hearing nothing to the contrary,” Wynfield said, “I presume the actions of your fellows speak for you.”

“Do you speak for all here?” Eligius asked.

“Don't be impudent,” Charles said.

“Is this how servants conduct themselves in your house?” Wynfield asked. “Small wonder, your wife's distractions from her duties. I don't wish to see these walls continue to crumble around you, my friend.”

“How dare you insult him in his ill health!” Crowell shouted.

“There's more to it than you know, sir.”

Charles' eyes found his young servant in the corner. They filled briefly, then dried. “There is no need for that subject, Andrew. We are not speaking of me, but of the threat of violence swelling in this country.”

“The subjects are linked, I'm afraid. A man of vigor controls his servants as well as his wife. He puts a firm oar in the water. Everything about you speaks of twilight at a time when our obligation to England tips the balance in favor of immediate and vigorous action here in Ceylon. A popular uprising gains traction and leads to rebellion. Commerce halts. Fields die. Taxes cease. To stop these incidents from becoming an issue, we must keep these people focused on working their fields and on paying their debts. Sad but true, it always falls to us.”

Setting Charles' map down, he went to the door. “We are apart on so many things now, Charles. Have you noticed? Let us find common ground on at least this much. The affairs of her Majesty's colonies must be equal to their cost, and thus far we have much ground to cover. Her fleet, her trading company, her exports. India is a bride with an insufficient dowry.”

He tucked the bill into the lining of his overcoat. “I've drafted an amendment to the Doctrine of Lapse. Where the absence of a feudal heir triggers the natives' forfeiture of villages now, we will broaden it to include villages where the men are missing and delinquent taxes continue. Parliament has responded favorably.”

“I knew nothing of this,” Charles said.

“It is a service we will provide to Ceylon. In a jungle-covered
country like this, diseases of the most malignant character are harbored. Year after year they reap a pestilential harvest from this thinly scattered population. Cholera, dysentery, fever, and smallpox all appear in their turn and annually sweep whole villages away. Gentlemen, I ask you. Can we stand by and do nothing? I for one say no. I have seen enough of the moldering dead. If a village comprising two hundred able-bodied men is reduced by sickness to a population of fifty, can those left behind cultivate the same amount of land? No, gentlemen, it falls to us to clear it away and make something of it. These people have to adapt to us, not the other way around.”

Wynfield rose to leave. His loyalists rose with him. “You have some time to study this as you wish. But not long, my friends. I expect your answer soon. This cannot wait.”

“You have my word,” Charles said as Newhope and Crowell stared at him.

“Excellent. My best to your wife and children. Please, have Catherine send her bill of needs to my staff for the celebration in honor of Holland. As sponsor of his voyage, it is only right. Let your maid walk through the market untroubled.”

Eligius glared at Wynfield as he left. Charles waved him over and handed him an empty brandy snifter. “ Watch yourself, boy. While you glare at one, another sees you and marks you for trouble. There is too much you don't know to be so impetuous at such a dangerous time.”

“Why doesn't anyone believe me? I don't know where the men are.”

“Your wounds are likely all that keep you from being arrested in their place. Now go about your work. Let us alone to talk this out.”

Eligius left the study. How uneasy Newhope and Crowell appeared. How uncertain. He'd never seen a colonial without their attendant arrogance. These men breathed the same anxiety as the men of Matara did around their fires while their ranks thinned and the trees rang louder with new voices each night.

And the sa'ab; he looked ashamed and small. What could such men do to move the governor? Did they even want to? In the end it was just Indians losing their land. A common enough occurrence.

He left the study door slightly open. From the dining room, he heard enough to know that Charles was behaving irregularly in the eyes of his friends. Once there'd been a different man, said Crowell. Newhope reminded him that he was ill, not dead. Would he not rise to Ceylon's defense, as the man he once was?

Only when Newhope suggested that they contact the Court of Proprietors in London did Charles speak. He asked them to give him time in the same tone that he'd employed with the governor. A kind of prayer. “Let me study this in concurrence with the laws on the subject,” Charles said. “Perhaps there are mechanisms we can employ.”

Mary interrupted his eavesdropping. She handed him a bucket and mop. “Ewen took ill.”

He went to Ewen's room, grateful for the task. It was better to sop up a boy's vomit than to hear these old men talk.

In the evening, Charles and Catherine asked him to sit in the dining room with the family. Mary remained in the kitchen, making it clear with her cacophony that she didn't appreciate a servant's elevation to the dining room while there was food set out on a tin in the scullery.

Catherine took her husband's hand. She asked Julia and Ewen to join in a prayer, for Eligius. “It is a sad thing,” she said, “to be in the presence of someone who has never realized joy.”

“My life doesn't have room for such thoughts, memsa'ab.”

“I'm beginning to understand that, child.”

“ Tomorrow I want you to speak to the men of your village,” Charles said. “The most influential among them. Whoever the others will listen to. They must stop whatever it is they're planning.”

“I don't know of any plans, sa'ab.”

“Don't play with me. I'll not be thought foolish by a simple
servant. They talk of armed revolt. They are not to think of it. Not ever. Every crime, every Indian crime, from this point forward only lends credence to the notion that you're unfit to have a hand in governing your own country. Do you understand?”

“I do not.”

“I would believe that from some people, but not you. There is all manner of notions you understand.”

“How awful you make that sound,” Catherine said. Charles fell silent. “Eligius, we British came here as friends to the Indian. We have so much to teach you. It is a fatherly hand we offer. But right now, my husband's is not the predominant view. You cannot maintain crops, yet we can. You cannot rise above poverty and sickness, yet we can. This is what is said of you. They expect you to answer these charges with work, industriousness, persever - ance. If your people respond with thuggishness and insolence instead of reason, as your father tried to do, what is Charles to say on your behalf ?”

“My father.” He hated the look on her face. Her sympathy enraged him.

“He was a reasonable fellow,” Charles said. “I could tell. A good man. He had my respect.”

“My father came to court that day because there was a man who he thought would listen. I know it was you.”

“Then I make the same point to you that I made to your father. Act from your better nature.”

“So that you will respect me,” Eligius said, “when you remember me.”

He saw the color rise in the old lion's cheeks, bringing red relief to the weary terrain of his face.

Catherine's hand touched her husband's. “You will make your own way. Whether it is a course that allows you to remain with us is your choice. But I've seen enough of you to know that the hate already visited upon you at so young an age has not bred hate within you. Don't give in to it now. Will you think on this?”

“Yes, memsa'ab.”

“ You may go,” she said softly. “Tell Ewen I have need of him in Holland House.”

He did as he was told, with the sounds of their whispers in his ears. They were discussing him. Whether he ought to remain.

He passed the sa'ab's study. The sa'ab's map of Ceylon sat on the desk.

In a few days' time he would return to Matara. Chandrak would come from wherever he and the others were, to see what amount of manhood grew in a week. Maybe there would be a fresh banyan strip dangling against Chandrak's withered side.

He put the map in his room, under his blanket, then sat next to its dismal hump and wept.

 

IN THE STUDY, Catherine blew on the embers in the hearth. They rose to her efforts, glowing a deep cerise.