The Good Apprentice (25 page)
Read The Good Apprentice Online
Authors: Iris Murdoch
Trying to recall his previous journey, Edward had now left the river and was climbing up through the wood, where bluebells were making a hazy blue distance between the budding green of the various saplings which were grasping at his clothes. The sun, piercing down from above through the high roof of oaks and beeches, confused the woody interior with blotches of light. Edward blundered on until he came upon a small twig-strewn path, and followed it upward. Soon he could see the larger light ahead, and stepped between beech pillars over a verge of tall grasses onto the level sward of the
dromos.
He stopped perfectly still, breathless with his climb, and with the surprise of his arrival and the odd authoritative being of the place. He stood breathing deeply, moving his eyes, not yet daring to move his head. It was as if he expected to find some enemy there, or some possessor who should challenge his intrusion. Then he remembered the tree men who were hostile to Seegard. But all was exactly as before, the long narrow area was empty, except for the upright pillar upon its low fluted plinth. The grass had grown longer, but was still short enough to count as a ‘lawn’ rather than a ‘field’. The wood was silent, the trees motionless in the quiet afternoon. Looking now to left and right, Edward began to walk slowly out into the open space of the grove. He looked quickly behind him to see if he were being followed and to check whether his feet were leaving prints in the grass. No alien presence, no prints, only his feeling that something was going to happen. He felt excited, a bit frightened, pleased with himself, that he had found the place again. He approached the pillar which the sunlight, striking in a certain way, was making to sparkle. As he walked round it the brighter light now showed up a carving upon one of its faces, a rectangle with curly decoration, some kind of lettering or perhaps an animal form. As he leaned forward to look, he heard the sound, often mentioned in boys’ adventure stories, of someone further down in the wood stepping on a twig. Edward shot away from the pillar into the darkness of the arch between the large yew trees. The earth beneath the yews was firm and hard, and bare except for a deep scattering of brown needle-like yew leaves. The arching trees gave no cover, so Edward skidded into the woodland behind the tall guardian beeches on the other side of the grove and fell down promptly into the long grass near to the edge of the sward, at first anxious simply not to be seen, then wanting very much to find out who the visitor was. It was Ilona.
dromos.
He stopped perfectly still, breathless with his climb, and with the surprise of his arrival and the odd authoritative being of the place. He stood breathing deeply, moving his eyes, not yet daring to move his head. It was as if he expected to find some enemy there, or some possessor who should challenge his intrusion. Then he remembered the tree men who were hostile to Seegard. But all was exactly as before, the long narrow area was empty, except for the upright pillar upon its low fluted plinth. The grass had grown longer, but was still short enough to count as a ‘lawn’ rather than a ‘field’. The wood was silent, the trees motionless in the quiet afternoon. Looking now to left and right, Edward began to walk slowly out into the open space of the grove. He looked quickly behind him to see if he were being followed and to check whether his feet were leaving prints in the grass. No alien presence, no prints, only his feeling that something was going to happen. He felt excited, a bit frightened, pleased with himself, that he had found the place again. He approached the pillar which the sunlight, striking in a certain way, was making to sparkle. As he walked round it the brighter light now showed up a carving upon one of its faces, a rectangle with curly decoration, some kind of lettering or perhaps an animal form. As he leaned forward to look, he heard the sound, often mentioned in boys’ adventure stories, of someone further down in the wood stepping on a twig. Edward shot away from the pillar into the darkness of the arch between the large yew trees. The earth beneath the yews was firm and hard, and bare except for a deep scattering of brown needle-like yew leaves. The arching trees gave no cover, so Edward skidded into the woodland behind the tall guardian beeches on the other side of the grove and fell down promptly into the long grass near to the edge of the sward, at first anxious simply not to be seen, then wanting very much to find out who the visitor was. It was Ilona.
Edward felt no urge to rise or call out. He felt guilty at the idea of being discovered in the place; and he wanted to see what Ilona would do. She walked into the middle of the sward, then looked around her rather anxiously and furtively as Edward had done. Then she took off her shoes and socks and stroked the top of the springy grass with a bare foot. She thrust her socks inside her shoes and laid them down, took off her brown wooden beads and put them too inside her shoes, then walked on toward the pillar. Here she paused again and looked about, then looked up at the blue sky, closing her eyes against the sun. She was wearing her plain brown day dress which Edward thought much more beautiful than her evening robe. Her hair was loose, hanging down her back, a little tangled as usual. She folded her hands, standing motionless for a moment before the pillar as if in respect. Then she produced from the pocket of her dress something which Edward recognised with surprise as a piece of string. She bound this round her waist and hitched the top part of the dress over it, thus shortening the skirt. She raised both her hands above her head, joining her fingers like a ballet dancer. The sleeves of the brown dress fell back revealing the lighter softer more vulnerable flesh of her upper arm. Then she began to dance.
That is, Edward told himself later that that was what had happened. It must have been. What it looked like was that Ilona was lifted from the ground by some superior force, a wind perhaps (only there was no wind) and was conveyed to and fro over the grass, the tips of which her feet were barely touching. He distinctly recalled seeing at one moment both of her feet, moving in slow motion, poised well above the gleaming green surface of the grass as her swaying body was carried away along the glade and then back again toward the pillar. Once or twice it seemed as if, like a leaf, she was about to be blown away altogether and to disappear floating into the wood. There was in her movement no sort of exertion, it was as if, with her hair flying round her, she were simply being carried about, conveyed through the air; and yet a sense of volition was there and the purposeful grace of her body, the patterned weavings of her arms, and of her long slim legs under the hitched-up skirt were those of a dancer. She seemed to leap and to subside, to balance, pivot, swing and turn without touching the ground. For something, with something, she
performed,
not seeming to move at random, but executing a choreographic pattern of ecstatic yet disciplined expression. It was a dance of joy, becoming slower and sadder toward the end, as if she felt the breath failing which had lifted her. She began to move, not exactly wearily, for the precision of the movement remained, but as if, by flowing gestures of her hands and her whole body, she were casting away something, like a garment, in which she had been briefly clothed. Her slowing feet first brushed, then entered the grass, and at last she stood, or landed, holding out an arm to steady herself, then motionless with her hands at her sides, near to the pillar. And so the dance was over; and Edward lay back hastily in the grass, from which in his wrapt excitement he had risen a little.
performed,
not seeming to move at random, but executing a choreographic pattern of ecstatic yet disciplined expression. It was a dance of joy, becoming slower and sadder toward the end, as if she felt the breath failing which had lifted her. She began to move, not exactly wearily, for the precision of the movement remained, but as if, by flowing gestures of her hands and her whole body, she were casting away something, like a garment, in which she had been briefly clothed. Her slowing feet first brushed, then entered the grass, and at last she stood, or landed, holding out an arm to steady herself, then motionless with her hands at her sides, near to the pillar. And so the dance was over; and Edward lay back hastily in the grass, from which in his wrapt excitement he had risen a little.
Ilona now looked dejected. She began to undo the piece of string around her waist. She had some difficulty with the knot at which she pulled with graceless exasperation, uttering little cross grunts. At last her skirt fell to its full length and she stuffed the string into her pocket and stood a while with head drooping, seeming bereft of purpose. Then she turned abruptly and began to walk towards Edward. Edward felt, at that moment, utterly afraid of her, afraid of having been a witness of something he ought not to have seen. He shrank down. However Ilona’s objective was not Edward. She went to the edge of the bare shady ground under the big yews, and came back holding a single white flower in her hand. She stood again before the pillar, and looked down intently at the flower for a few moments. Edward, gazing through his grassy screen, now saw with horror that glistening tears were rolling from her eyes and dripping off the curve of her cheek onto the ground. She stared at the flower as if she were pitying it, even regretting that she had picked it. Then she laid it down on the dark stone plinth and turned brusquely away. She moved now with a busy scurrying haste, like a little awkward schoolgirl, finding her shoes and socks, trying to put her socks on standing on one leg, failing, then sitting down abruptly, rather irritably, upon the grass. When she had put her shoes and socks on, and her wooden bead necklace, she got up hurriedly and scampered off into the wood.
Edward waited a while before he rose, for he feared she might return and he wanted too for
whatever it was
to be somewhat dissipated before he presented himself, an impious spectator and outsider. He got up at last and walked out into the open. He looked to see where Ilona had picked her flower, and saw a clump of white wood anemones, the star-like flowers displaying upon a tracery of small fernlike green leaves. He felt an impulse to pick another flower, but rejected it. He went back to the pillar and looked at the white anemone lying on the dark plinth. It seemed already to be fading. It made him think of the body of a dead girl. Edward raised his head and looked nervously about him. The scene was peaceful, empty, the shadows of the trees longer upon the grass. Nearby a blackbird began to sing, reminding Edward that during his visit to the grove the birds had been silent until now. He looked at his watch and following on Ilona’s track ran away quickly into the wood.
whatever it was
to be somewhat dissipated before he presented himself, an impious spectator and outsider. He got up at last and walked out into the open. He looked to see where Ilona had picked her flower, and saw a clump of white wood anemones, the star-like flowers displaying upon a tracery of small fernlike green leaves. He felt an impulse to pick another flower, but rejected it. He went back to the pillar and looked at the white anemone lying on the dark plinth. It seemed already to be fading. It made him think of the body of a dead girl. Edward raised his head and looked nervously about him. The scene was peaceful, empty, the shadows of the trees longer upon the grass. Nearby a blackbird began to sing, reminding Edward that during his visit to the grove the birds had been silent until now. He looked at his watch and following on Ilona’s track ran away quickly into the wood.
‘Look!’ Ilona held up a tumbler of water in front of Edward. It was before lunch on the following day and they were standing in the sunshine on the pavement outside the Atrium door.
Edward took the tumbler from Ilona and held it up to the light. The water was full of tiny almost invisible organisms, variously shaped, some idling, some purposefully roving, some motionless, some whizzing. The tumbler was absolutely crowded with them.
‘What is this, Ilona?’
‘Just a glassful of our drinking water from the rainwater reservoir!’
‘You mean we drink these? Poor little chaps!’
‘Well, we boil the water first, so when we drink them they’re already — not alive.’ Ilona, avoiding the word ‘dead’, seemed already sorry to have raised the subject. She took the glass back from Edward and poured the water on the pavement.
Edward said, ‘Perhaps we are like that, just tiny things in someone’s glass — ’
‘By the way, if you’re rescuing moths from the water butt, don’t get them on your finger, use a leaf, then leave them somewhere to dry.’
‘Hello, children,’ said Mother May, returning from the greenhouses with a basket full of lettuces. Bettina followed her, her hands large with mud held out from her sides. Both of them wore their gardening aprons. ‘Let’s sit down for a moment.’
Recently they had set out some old teak seats, pallid with age and weather, upon the pavement near to the door.
‘You all work too hard,’ said Edward.
‘Perhaps you are making us work less hard,’ said Mother May, smiling, staring at him with her gentle light eyes.
‘I’m demoralising you!’
‘No, no, you are a messenger.’
‘Mother May means you usher in a new era,’ said Bettina, smiling too but not looking, fingering the mud off each of her hands. The mud fell on the ground in lumps which she neatly gathered together with her boot.
‘Oh the birds sing so, they sing
so
,’ said Ilona. ‘And the collared doves, they say “Oh my God, oh my God”!’
so
,’ said Ilona. ‘And the collared doves, they say “Oh my God, oh my God”!’
‘The swallows will soon be here,’ said Mother May.
‘Do the swallows sing?’ asked Edward.
‘Oh
yes
,’ said Ilona, ‘such beautiful mad muddled songs, you’ll hear.’
yes
,’ said Ilona, ‘such beautiful mad muddled songs, you’ll hear.’
Edward thought, will Jesse come before the swallows? Oh the anguish, oh my God —
‘And the cowslips will be in flower,’ said Mother May. ‘This place is covered in cowslips.’
‘They are becoming rare,’ said Bettina, ‘but not here.’
‘Bettina once slapped some children she saw picking cowslips,’ said Ilona.
Edward imagined that scene.
Bettina frowned. Mother May said, ‘I must admit we pick a few, a
very
few.’
very
few.’
‘Well, they’re your cowslips,’ said Edward.
‘One doesn’t feel quite like that,’ said Mother May, ‘the countryside belongs to everybody. But one does specially love what one has mixed one’s labour with, and that’s what we feel about Seegard.’
‘And one has a
right
to it, too,’ said Bettina.
right
to it, too,’ said Bettina.
Later Edward remembered this remark.
‘And in summer you go to the sea,’ said Edward.
‘We used to,’ said Ilona.
‘There’s a ruined village where fisherfolk used to be,’ said Mother May, ‘and a little abandoned harbour.’
Edward liked ‘fisherfolk’. ‘I’d like to see a map of the area.’
‘I don’t think we have one, have we?’ said Bettina.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Mother May, ‘I can’t think where it would be.’
‘You don’t often go to London?’
‘No,’ said Mother May, ‘if you live in paradise why go elsewhere? London for us represents all the empty idle noisy busyness of the world — here our lives are full of natural true busyness.’
‘We try to carry out Jesse’s ideals,’ said Bettina.
‘Jesse was a fiery socialist when he was young, we all were, true socialists, we worked for the good society on the basis of simplicity.’
‘We still are, we still do,’ said Bettina. She lifted up her large head, like the head of a fine sleek keen-faced animal, and looked at Edward as if expecting him to challenge this.
‘We never tire of hearing Mother May talk of the old days,’ said Ilona.
‘We exercise the body and the mind,’ said Mother May. ‘The health of the planet rests upon the health of the individual.’
‘Eastern wisdom teaches that the body is important,’ said Ilona.
‘All right, Ilona!’ said Bettina.
‘We wanted to have a regular arts festival,’ said Ilona, ‘to express our ideals, with music and poetry and dance, and there’s a big exhibition room for painting in the tower — ’
‘Why didn’t you?’ said Edward.
‘It was too financially risky,’ said Mother May.
‘Besides,’ said Bettina, ‘as soon as you start organising something involving
other people
there are corrupt elements.’
other people
there are corrupt elements.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ said Edward, ‘you live such a free life here.’
‘The girls are free beings,’ said Mother May smiling. ‘Jesse and I have seen to that. We stand for creativity and peace, continuity and cherishing. Here I think women have something special to give.’
‘Mother May thinks that, compared with us, others are barbarians,’ said Bettina, smiling at her mother.
Other books
La fórmula Stradivarius by I. Biggi
Those Summer Nights (Corfu, Greek Island Romance) by Mandy Baggot
Mitchell's Presence by D. W. Marchwell
Unknown (Hooked Book 3) by Charity Parkerson
The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara
True by Grace, Gwendolyn
Vanilla Beaned by Jenn McKinlay
The Flames of Shadam Khoreh (The Lays of Anuskaya) by Beaulieu, Bradley
The Day of the Moon by Graciela Limón
~cov0001.jpg by Lisa Kleypas