Moby Jack & Other Tall Tales (45 page)

‘I agreed. I just heard myself saying, “Yes,” and led her into the back of the shop where I began the work. It was not a difficult task to actually fashion the collar, though the sealing of it was somewhat painful to her and had to be carried out in stages, which took us well into the night hours. I must have, subconsciously perhaps, continued to glance through the workshop door at the window, for she said once, very quietly, “He will not come here.”

‘Such a beautiful throat she had too.
Very long, and elegant.
It seemed a sacrilege to encase such a beauty in metal, though I made the collar as attractive as I made any silver
ornament which
might adorn a pretty woman. On the outside of the metal I engraved centripetal designs and at her request, some representational forms: Christ on the cross, immediately over her jugular vein, but also Zeus and Europa, and Zeus and Leda, with the Greek god in his bestial forms of the bull and the swan. I think she had been seduced by the thought that she was marrying some kind of deity.

‘When I had finished, she paid me and left. I watched her walk out, into the early morning mists, with a heavy guilt in my heart. What could I have done? I was just a common craftsman and had no right interfering in the lives of others. Perhaps I should have tried harder to dissuade her, but I doubt she would have listened to my impertinence for more than a few moments. Besides, I had, during those few short hours, fallen in love with her—utterly—and when she realised she had made a mistake, she would have to come back to me again,
to
have the collar removed.

‘I wanted desperately to see her again, though I knew that any chance of romance was impossible, hopeless. She was not of my class—or rather, I was not of hers, and her beauty was more than I could ever aspire to, though I knew myself to be a good-looking young man. Some had called me beautiful—it was that kind of handsomeness that I had been blessed with, rather than the rugged sort.

‘But despite my physical advantages, I had nothing which would attract a lady of quality from her own kind. The most I could ever hope for—the very most—was perhaps to serve her in some way.’

‘Three weeks later she was back, looking somewhat distraught.

‘“I want it to come off,” she said. “It must be removed.”

‘My fingers trembled as I worked at cutting her free—a much simpler task than my previous one.

‘“You’ve left him,” I said. “Won’t he follow?”

‘“No, you’re quite wrong.” There was a haunted look to her
eyes which
chilled me to the bone. “It’s not that. I was too mistrustful. I love him too much to withhold from him the very thing he desires. I must give myself to him—wholly and completely. I need him you see. And he needs me—yet like this I cannot give him the kind of love he has to have. I’ve been selfish.
Very selfish.
I must go to him...”

‘“Are you mad?” I cried, forgetting my position. “You’ll become like him—you’ll become—”

‘“How dare you! How dare you preach to me? Just do your work, silversmith. Remove the collar!”

‘I was weak of course, as most of us are when confronted by a superior being. I cut the collar loose and put it aside. She rubbed her neck and complained loudly that flakes of skin were coming away in her hands.

‘“It’s ugly,” she said. “Scrawny. He’ll never want me like this.”

‘“No—thank God!” I cried, gathering my courage.

‘At that moment she looked me full in the eyes and a strange expression came over her face.

‘“You’re in love with me, aren’t you? That’s why you’re so concerned, silversmith. Oh dear, I am dreadfully sorry. I thought you were just being meddlesome. It was a genuine concern for my welfare and I didn’t recognise it at first. Dear man,” she touched my cheek. “Don’t look so sad. It cannot be, you know. You should find some nice girl and try to forget, because you’ll never see me again after tonight. And don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing.”

‘With that, she gathered up her skirts and was gone again, down toward the river. The sun was just coming up, since she had arrived not long before the dawn, and I thought: At least she will have a few hours more of natural life.

‘After that I tried to follow her advice and put her out of my mind. I did my work, something I had always enjoyed, and rarely left the shop. I felt that if I could get over a few months without a change in my normal pattern of existence, I should be safe. There were nightmares of course, to be gone through after sunsets, but those I was able to cope with. I have always managed to keep my dreams at a respectable distance and not let them interfere with my normal activities.

‘Then, one day, as I was working on a pendant—a butterfly requested by a banker for his wife—a small boy brought me a message. Though it was unsigned, I knew it was from her and my hands trembled as I read the words.

‘They simply said, “Come. I need you.”

‘Underneath this request was scrawled an address, which I knew to be located down by one of the wharves, south of the river.

‘She needed me—and I knew exactly what for. I touched my throat. I wanted her too, but for different reasons. I did not have the courage that she had—the kind of sacrificial courage that’s produced by an overwhelming love. But I was not without strength. If there was a chance, just a chance, that I could meet with her and come away unscathed, then I was prepared to accept the risk.

‘But I didn’t see how that was possible. Her kind, as she had become, possessed a physical
strength which
would make any escape fraught with difficulty.

‘I had no illusions about her being in love with me—or even fond of me. She wanted to use me for her own purposes, which were as far away from love as earth is from the stars. I remembered seeing deep gouges in the silver collar, the time she had come to have it removed. They were like the claw marks of some beast, incised into the trunk of a tree. No wonder she had asked to have it sealed. Whoever, whatever, had made those marks would have had the strength to tear away any hinges or lock. The frenzy to get at what lay beneath the silver must have been appalling to witness—experience—yet she had gone back to him, without the collar’s protection.

‘I wanted her. I dreamed about having her, warm and close to me. That she had become something other than the beautiful woman who had entered my shop was no deterrent. I knew she would be just as lovely in her new form and I desired her above all things. For nights I lay awake, running different schemes over in my mind, trying to find a
path which
would allow us to make love together, just once, and yet let me walk away safely afterward. Even as I schemed, I saw her beauty laid before me, willingly, and my body and soul ached for her lovely form.

‘One chance.
I had this once chance of loving
a woman a dozen places
above my station: a woman whose refined ways and manner of speech had captivated me from the moment I met her.
A woman whose dignity, elegance, and gracefulness were without parallel.
Whose form surpassed that of the finest silverwork figurine I had ever known.

‘I had to find a way.

‘Finally, I came up with a plan which seemed to suit my purposes, and taking my courage in both hands I wrote her a note which said, “I’m waiting for you. You must come to me.” I found an urchin to carry it for me and told him to put it through the
letter box
of the address she had given me.

‘That afternoon I visited the church and a purveyor of medical instruments.

‘That evening I spent wandering the streets, alternately praising myself for dreaming up such a clever plan and cursing myself for my foolhardiness in carrying it through. As I strolled through the
back-streets
, stepping around the gin-soaked drunks and tipping my hat to the factory girls as they hurried home from a sixteen-hour day in some garment manufacturer’s sweatshop, or a hosiery, I realised that for once I had allowed my emotions to overrule my intellect. I’m not saying I was an intelligent young man—not above the average—but I was wise enough to know that there was great danger in what I proposed to
do,
yet the force of my feelings was more powerful than fear. I could not deny them their expression. The heart has no reason, but its drive is stronger than sense dictates.

‘The barges on the river ploughed slowly against the current as I leaned on the wrought-iron balustrade overlooking the water. I could see the gas lamps reflected on the dark surface and thought about the shadow world that lived alongside our own, where nothing was rigid, set, but could be warped and twisted, like those lights in the water when the ripples from the barges passed through them.
Would it take me and twist me into something, not ugly, but unsubstantial?
Into something that has the appearance of the real thing, but which is evanescent in the daylight and can only make its appearance at night, when vacuous shapes and phantasms take on a semblance of life and mock it with their unreal forms?

‘When the smell of the mud below me began to waft upward, as the tide retreated and the river diminished, I made my way homeward. There was
a sharpness
to the air which cut into my confidence and I was glad to be leaving it behind for the warmth and security of my rooms. Security? I laughed at myself, having voluntarily exposed my vulnerability.

‘She came.

‘There was a scratching at the casement windowpane in the early hours of the morning and I opened it and let her in. She had not changed. If anything, she was more beautiful than ever, with a paler colour to her cheeks and a fuller red to her lips.

‘No words were exchanged between us. I lay on the bed naked and she joined me after removing her garments. She stroked my hair and the nape of my neck as I sank into her soft young body. I cannot describe the ecstasy. It was—unearthly. She allowed me—encouraged me—and the happiness of those moments was worth all the risks of entering Hell for a taste of Heaven.

‘Of course, the moment came when she lowered her head to the base of my throat. I felt the coils of her hair against my cheek: smelled their sweet fragrance. I could sense the pulse in my neck, throbbing with blood. Her body was warm against mine—deliciously warm. I wanted her to stay forever. There was just a hint of pain in my throat—a needle prick, no more, and then a feeling of drifting, floating on warm water, as if I had suddenly been transported to tropic seas and lay in the shallows of some sun-bleached island’s beaches. I felt no fear—only, bliss.

‘Then, suddenly, she snorted, springing to her feet like no athlete I have ever seen. Her eyes were blazing and she spat and hissed into my face.

‘“What have you done?” she shrieked.

‘Then the fear came, rushing to my heart. I cowered at the bed-head, pulling my legs up to my chest in an effort to get as far away from her as possible.

‘Again she cried, “What have you done?”

‘“Holy water,” I said. “I’ve injected holy water into my veins.”

‘She let out another wail, which made my ears sing. Her hands reached for me and I saw those long nails, like talons, ready to slash at an artery, but the fear was gone from me. I just wanted her back in bed with me. I no longer cared for the consequences.

‘“Please?” I said, reaching for her. “Help me? I want you to help me.”

‘She withdrew from me then and sprang to the window. It was getting close to dawn: The first rays of the sun were sliding over the horizon.

‘“You fool,” she said, and then she was gone, out into the murk. I jumped up and looked for her through the window, but all I could see was the mist on the river, curling its way around the rotten stumps of an old jetty.

‘Once I had recovered my common sense and was out of her influence, I remember thinking to myself that I would have to make a collar—a silver collar...’

The fire spat in the grate and I jerked upright. I had no idea how long Sam had been talking but the
peat
was
almost all ashes
.

‘The tide,’ I said, alarmed. ‘I must leave.’

‘I haven’t finished,’ he complained, but I was ready on my feet. I opened the door and began to walk quickly down the narrow path we had made through the heather, to where my boat lay, but even as I approached it, I could see that it was lying on its side in the slick, glinting mud.