Eden River (9 page)

Larian feigned contentment with this answer, and she and Cain withdrew from the rock on which the child was laid, and sat down at a little distance, whence they had him in sight. And Larian took Cain in her arms and soothed him as though he had been a child, and in time her wish was fulfilled and he fell into a deep sleep. Then, disentangling herself from the embrace, she rose stealthily to her feet, intending to go back to the child, who now lay peacefully sleeping. But before she could take a step forward she became aware of a fantastic shape moving against the shimmering dark green of the sky. Behind her was the sunset, and before her, coming down from the un-conquered summit of the mountain, was a great yellow beast, sleek and supple and soft of tread, and outlined in the tingling red fire of the sunset. She opened her lips to cry mercy of the Holy Blood that had sent this sign of his intention, but no sound came. She stood fixed like a tree, and the lioness passed unheeding within an arm's length of her, going with infinite grace in the direction of the child. She could hardly doubt that this was a
messenger, the priestess of the sacrifice, sent from above; yet the movements of the creature were so indolent, so royally careless, that she could not quite repress a wild hope. For one moment it seemed as if the child would remain as unnoticed as she herself had been, and all the life of her body was suspended in that passionate wish. But, whether by chance or by the will of heaven, the lioness caught sight of the sleeping child, and paused in her prowling, and was suddenly transformed to an incarnate stillness. Larian shut her eyes, and the shudder that rippled through her flesh was the only movement in a waiting world. She waited for the roar, the spring, the brief pitiful cry of lost humanity. But she heard nothing, and when presently she took courage to look again she saw that the lioness, resting one paw on the rock, was glaring into the face of the child. The nostrils of the beast fluttered inquisitively, and, while Larian watched in anguish and terror, the great face bent down, the great jaws opened, and fastening her teeth in the garment of matted grass in which the child was wrapped, the lioness lifted the bundle from the ledge and placed it gently on the ground. The child woke and began wailing: not in fear, however, but in hunger, as Larian knew instantly.
So too, it seemed, did the lioness; for, after tentatively touching the child with her red steaming tongue, she lay down on her flank and with a giant paw thrust him against her dugs. The next moment he was sucking greedily, and a strange resonant sound filled the mountain air, the sound of purring.

Though her joy persisted, Larian's surprise at this sight was short-lived; and with her joy came a pang of homesickness. For it was no miracle she was witnessing, unless it were a miracle that the natural order should be resumed after a long bleak interval of dislocation. She glanced anxiously at Cain, afraid lest the purring might waken him. But Cain slept on, encompassed by the fantasy of evil which he had spun out of himself. The child's hunger being now satisfied, his foster-mother got on to her four feet and fastened her teeth in his swaddling band. She swung him pensively to and fro for a time or two, and the game seemed to delight him: he made exuberant noises and struck out at her with toes and fists. Larian smiled happily, no longer surprised; for she knew now that this lion was of Eden. And when the lion, at an easy pace, took the way that led down the mountainside and into that happy valley, she, after one furtive glance at her sleeping lord, followed hotfoot.

Although five hundred moons had passed since his wedding with Eve, Adam was still vigorous, a younger man than Cain; Eve, the companion of his days, was still beautiful; and the valley of Eden, in which they wandered contentedly from place to place, yielded them an inexhaustible variety. The family had increased greatly and scattered widely: they lived without law, in freedom and courtesy, naked and unashamed. Nevertheless, it was not quite the same Adam, nor the same Eden, since death and the knowledge of death had come to that place. The tomb of Abel was nowadays unvisited and unremembered, but the oblivion was not absolute. Though Abel himself was forgotten, and the circumstances of his destruction buried out of sight, there were still times when a shadow fell upon the spirit of Adam so that for a moment he knew himself for mortal. At such times the sight of Eve, who had been with him so long, would make him tremble with an emotion more complex and profound than that which had quickened him
at first sight of her, when she came walking towards him in the golden evening that was the beginning of paradise. Eve too had mourned for Abel, but not with complete understanding: the chance sight of a dead bird or a dead field-mouse, which could strike a premonitory chill in Adam's heart, stirred her to no more than a moment's curiosity; and the larger animals that claimed a casual friendly greeting from her, whether lion or antelope or gazelle, were private in their deaths. Like them, she thought little of yesterday and knew nothing of to-morrow; like them, being without foreknowledge, she lived in an immortal day.

They wandered, Eve and Adam, contentedly from place to place, and their babes and weanlings went with them. The lioness, however, was not long in finding them; nor did it astonish Adam, though it delighted him, to see the wise beast break into the forest glade and place her foster-child, the little unknown human, in the lap of Eve. Now what's this? he said. Hardly knowing what she said, Eve answered: It is my firstborn come back to me. See, Adam, how like he is to Cain! And Adam, who could see no such resemblance, having entirely forgotten what Cain had looked like as a baby, said that it was a pretty child and
he wondered which of the women had made it; for Adam had never taken seriously the preposterous notion, invented by Abel and published by Cain his slayer, that children are begotten in the act of love. Eve stroked the lioness and talked to her fondly, for it was a great happiness to her to acquire a new baby without labour. The lioness lay at her feet, purring blissfully; and neither the lioness nor her human friends knew that the scene was watched from a little distance, by one who had followed her and her charge in weariness and exultation for many uncounted hours, had lost track of them in the second night, and seeking with much anguish of spirit had now found them again by happy chance.

The sun at noon filled the forest with drowsiness, and Larian could have slept where she stood. But the task she had set herself was still only half done; for now she must return to her own country, taking the good news to Kelimuth. Assured though she was that the child was in safe keeping, she was held in a desolate enchantment by what she saw. Who was this man? A son of Cain? And this woman bending in love over the child, was she a sister of Kelimuth? In her heart she could not but believe what her eyes plainly told her: this was Adam and
that was Eve, untouched by time. But she resisted the knowledge, and resolved to stay hidden till there should come a chance of escaping unseen. In this she was deceiving herself, for in fact there was nothing to hinder her going when she would. So she stayed watching and listening, half hoping to hear her own name, that she might run to her parents and say: I am Larian your daughter. But after that one mention of Cain nothing was said of the past; Eve went on talking to the lion and the baby, but Adam sat silent, watching the three with idle benevolence, but thinking of other things, or of nothing. At last Larian could no longer refrain from showing herself. And Eve and Adam, having greeted her pleasantly, stared at her for a long while without speaking, wondering who she was and where she had come from. With childlike candour they gave voice to these questions, but, being sick at heart, she evaded them, saying: I followed the lion and the baby. We came from the mountain. The mountain, said Adam eagerly; I've been there too. But it's pleasanter here. Was it you that made the baby? It's a pretty one. No, said Larian, it is my daughter's child; my daughter is called Kelimuth. And what are you called? asked Eve, for the second time. But Larian, though she
had been hungry to hear that question again, could not bring herself to answer it; for in the lambent eyes that looked upon her there was no light of recognition, no faintest gleam; and to know herself so changed, or the memories of her parents so short, made her feel outcast. I am curst indeed, she said to herself, even as Cain foretold in the day when we fled from this country. So once more she put Eve's question aside and answered: I am not of this country, though I once was. Where is your country? asked Adam. Larian pointed in what she supposed to be the direction of the river. It's over there, across the river. And with watchful eyes upon them she added: It is the country where Cain lives, with his women and his children. Ah, tell me about Cain, cried Eve. What is he doing now? And if you've come from him why didn't he come with you? Red with shame because she was unknown, Larian answered evasively: I went by the river and came back by the mountain.

Between Eden valley and the Forest of Nod there was a river, Eden's river, in which Adam had swum before the coming of Eve, and which Cain, when he went into exile, had crossed in the boat that Abel made. This broad water flowed under the holy mountain, which was two days east of the
haunts of Adam and his people; and so it happened that Larian, in first leaving the land of her father, had crossed the river by boat, whereas in returning she had crossed it, at a distant point, by ascending and descending the mountain that bridged it. In saying to Eve that she went by the river and came back by the mountain, she had spoken, therefore, the simple truth; but her words were dark to Eve and Adam, and having no clue to her meaning they were incurious, and Larian's desperate hope that they would probe diligently into the past, and so at last arrive at her identity, was defeated. Distracted with grief she fell on her knees, and, bending over Eve's lap, took her last farewell of Kelimuth's baby. Then rising she presented a falsely smiling face to her mother, and said: Now I must go back to my own place. Both Eve and Adam smiled at her, answering: We should like you to stay with us. Why not? It is very pleasant here. I am going across the river, said Larian stubbornly, into the country of Cain. Ah, said Eve, then you'll very likely see some of the children on your way, Seth and Hamaleda and the rest. And the little ones too: they're somewhere over there.

Even now Larian might have yielded to her passionate wish and revealed herself. But she
would not, for a voice said within her: They are young and I am old. And so, with tears in her eyes, she turned away, bitterly eager to be gone. She went with dragging feet, and aimlessly; and her heart, being filled with desolation, was dead to the vital beauty that surrounded her. She who of all Cain's people had Eden most in her heart was yet so changed by time and stress as to believe herself alien to it. Night found her still wandering, and when she lay down and closed her eyes she half hoped that a wild beast would devour her while she slept, though sober judgment told her that no such thing could happen in this country of the blest, even to the outcast that she was. Her sleep was troubled with many dreams, but she slept soundly towards morning, and woke with the first pipe of birds to find two strangers staring down at her, a slim fair youth and a smooth-cheeked placid woman. As she rose to her feet they greeted her with friendly words. She answered the greeting briefly and would have resumed her wayfaring, but the young man came smiling towards her, his eyes bright with pleasure and curiosity. Hullo! What are you called? I've never seen you before. My name is Naban. And what is that thing for? he asked, pointing to the loin-cloth she wore. Larian
could not help smiling at his ingenuousness, but it was to the woman that she turned, saying: I am not of this country. And seeing that the woman before her was her sister Kirith, she could hold back the truth no longer, and the words came gushing out like tears: I am Larian your sister, for you are Kirith. How can that be? asked Kirith; I have never seen you before. How can it not be? answered Larian. Did not the same mother bear us both? Have you then forgotten Larian, and Cain, and Abel our brother who became dead? For answer Kirith wrinkled her smooth brow and said: There is an old story with those names in it, but I was a child when it happened, and I can't remember such things. You are a child still, retorted Larian in anger. You are all children, and I hate you for your happiness. What word is that? put in the boy, eager for knowledge; and Larian's heart melted towards him. But he, receiving no answer, hurried on to another question: How is it that you have ridges and furrows in your face? There and there! With his forefinger he traced out the course of her many wrinkles. Kirith's face, he said, is not like that. That is because Kirith, answered Larian, has forgotten what I remember. Naban, I will tell you a story. But Kirith said suddenly: Yes, you
are Larian. I have remembered you. But why must you tell my son a story? It is the story, said Larian, of why I came back to this place and of why I shall not stay in it.

Tell me the story, said Naban. Tell me. And when the story was told he exclaimed with shining eyes: If you won't stay with us here, Larian, I will go with you to your country, and see Kelimuth your daughter, who is so beautiful. I'm sure I shall love her very much, and I expect she'll love me, don't you? Then she'll forget about her baby. Forget, forget, cried Larian: do you spend all your time forgetting? Come if you like, Naban; but it may be they will kill you when we get to my own people. Kill, what is that? asked Naban. It is what Cain would have done to Kelimuth's baby, said Larian. But Naban, it seemed, had not understood that part of the story; nor perhaps had Kirith, for she could conceive no possible danger in his going with Larian where he would.

Next morning, with Naban for company, Larian came to the river that now divided her from Cain's country, and memories rose up in her of that first exodus from Eden, and particularly of how she had stood on the bank watching Cain and Zildah and Zildah's baby moving away from her in the boat. Where are your boats? she asked Naban. He did not understand her, and would have talked of other things; but when she began to explain the nature of boats, and to tell how Abel had been the first (and perhaps the last) to make one, he plied her with questions, hungry for every detail she could remember of the boat's construction; and she had much trouble to persuade him that to build a boat would take many days and perhaps more skill than he and she could muster between them. Even then he was reluctant to abandon the project, nor could he understand that time was precious to her. Have you lost your wish to see Kelimuth? Larian asked him. But this, too, was beyond his understanding. Where was the
hurry? In his lively young fancy Kelimuth had already a palpable existence, and he already loved her; but having no sense of time's undeviating flow, and lacking that knowledge of mortality which drops a tincture of fear into all human love and sharpens the edge of absence, he could have postponed his first sight of her indefinitely and with an easy mind. Larian, however, wise in her dealings with children, weaned him from his dream of navigation by asking him if he thought he could swim across the river, or was it too far for him? He laughed at the absurdity of the doubt, Abel and his boat being in a moment forgotten. Come along, I'll show you. We'll swim together, shall we? And Larian, encumbered though she was by her modest skirt and by the more grievous burden of her years, smiled with relief and entered the water eagerly.