'I don't care!' he cried in answer, the torrent of his angerreturning with sudden force. He dove and swam out into deeper waters,while the cub remained on shore and barked at him.
Slowly, fighting the undertow, he made his way back to solid ground. ORAS SOLID AS I'M LIKELY TO FIND, he thought bitterly. Emerging trulyexhausted, he fell to his knees, then sorrowfully held and reassured hisunspeaking friend.
He lay down in the sand like an animal. And slept.
Chapter 42
That night, wrapped in the tragicomedy of human pride and affection,none of the three found peace.
For Sylviana the evening seemed endless, trying to drag conversationfrom the tired and otherwise absorbed company. And when hard night fellat last she found she could not sleep. Instead she restlessly mulledover the ?situation' with Kalus, as she called it: the doctor'sexplanation for his actions, and his relayed message that, 'Therecould never be anyone else.'
But this only made her angry with herself for having been so obvious infront of the others. What did it matter to her what he said or did? Hehad given her her ?freedom', and seemed intent on exercising hisown, no matter what his words might say. So she tried again to makeherself interested in the young botanist, Smith, who had already askedher a number of leading questions, under the pretense (she assumed) ofscientific inquiry.
But the bed was still empty, and her thoughts still vague and rootless,without Kalus there beside her. She felt again the primal urge to go tohim, just go to him, and renew their bond through physical love. Butremembering the pain of her last submission to it, she stubbornlyrefused. Or tried to. Until it was too late.
Kalus lay on his back on the ground, the sleeping bag giving him warmth,but little else. He put his hands behind his head and looked to thesky, while the cub nestled at his feet.
How far away the stars looked, how indifferent and utterly unreachable.Thinking yet again of his love, he felt the loneliness and brokenlonging that every unfulfilled man must know: that of useless labors,and barren seed. The worry-sickness of caring for one who no longerreturned that love, had slowly eaten away at the warmth and loyalty hefelt for her, leaving him hard and cold and indifferent. Or so itseemed to him then. He rolled over onto his side, muttering, andperhaps an hour later fell at last into a restless, brooding sleep.
But Kataya could no more sleep than bring back the dead, stung to thevery heart by intolerable memories of the love she had lost forever.And this pain which lay at the heart of all others, aggravated that veryday by the departure of Ishmael and the poor, doomed Children, tormentedher every thought, until even the simplest feeling could not beaccomplished without a pain that was almost physical.
And while she considered herself superior to Sylviana, and even in a wayto Kalus himself, the lashings of emptiness at the hollow discipline ofdenial were no less acute for it. She remembered the words of SinclairLewis, from the book she was then translating.
'Not individuals but institutions are the enemies, And THEY MOSTAFFLICT THE DISCIPLES WHO MOST GENEROUSLY SERVE THEM.' A more aptdescription of her own religious and cultural servitude she could notimagine.
But these self-recriminations were meaningless, and she knew it. Whatlay at the root of her agitation was her forlorn desire for Kalus.Beyond the strong and undeniable physical attraction, his innocence,like Ishmael's, of the brutal travesty which had killed both herhusband and the unborn child she carried unknowingly onto the Virgo.....
'Enough! Leave me alone!'
But there was no escaping herself. Tragedy, desire, and longing for anew life that she could truly call her own, all drew her toward him asirresistibly as childbirth. Added to this was the knowledge, confirmedby the vaginal thermometer, that this night, this very hour, her bodywas as ready to conceive as it had ever been since the long sleep, as itmight ever be again. All her pain and frustration now focused upon thissingular and uncorrupted man as a well-spring of life and relief, purewater to one dying of thirst. If he rejected her, the agony and shamewould be unbearable. But dear, sweet holy Buddha, how could any pain beworse than this?
It was not greater wisdom that sent her to him in the end, but anagitation of sorrow and loneliness that were longer, and moreinescapable. While Sylviana forced herself to stay, Kataya shed asingle, honest tear, and surrendered.
*
Kalus stirred, feeling silken fingers touch his breast, bare legsagainst his own. He let out a despairing sigh as soft lips caressedhim---his mouth, his neck, his chest---all in deepest passion, andsolemn entreaty.
It was not his true love, but he could not deny her this. Nor, as heheld her close, did he have any wish to, all else falling away in theunconscious amnesia of male passion. He threw open the sleeping bag,longingly kissed her cheek, her neck, the lovely space above herbreasts.
'Kataya,' he whispered passionately, and there was nothing else inhis world, no other salve for the endless pain and frustration. Therewas only her, here and now, her face wet with tears, vulnerable,compelling. He released the knotted loincloth, as their most sensitivereaches drew nearer. Her breasts rubbed gently across his. Then heslid down, yielding to that most primal longing: to suckle at thebreast, fountain of all life.
'Yes,' she whispered fervently. 'Yes, Kalus. TAKE me.' Heraised himself on his arms, opening her legs with his own, and with thesighing aid of her hand, was inside her. He did not love her, but helonged for her, making the physical release and abandon perhaps thegreater for it. He was not gentle, nor did she ask him to be. For inthat moment she was not a woman, but all women, and his anger would notbe abated.
But as he approached climax, too soon, his gentler nature returned, andhe not only remembered, but yearned for the soul inside her. She felthim withdraw. And though she experienced a moment of bitterdisappointment, that all was yet in vain, he only moved to kneel overher, kissing her lips, her eyes, her neck and then her breasts. And allthe while his right hand encircled her deepest temple, caressing,kneading, softly stroking and then penetrating its moist readiness. Inrapture she threw back her head, breathed deeply and surrendered toorgasm. Then gently, now quieter, he put himself inside her once more,moving his penis in slow, beautiful patterns that she thought wouldbreak her heart with loving pleasure. And in time as his own breathingbecame deeper, and his thrusts more urgent, she felt the throbbingwetness come again, as together they forgot all else in the throes ofthat blessed, animal release. Plaintive, moaning sounds split thenight.
Then he reached back and covered them both with the sweetly softenedsleeping bag, inside her still, their limbs intertwined, breathcommingling.
'Thank you,' she whispered, taking his head in her hands andkissing him with all her heart and soul, as she felt his strong armsengulf her and his lips caress her with spoken and unspoken words ofaffection and reassurance. And soon, very naturally, both drifted offinto a sleep no longer bitter, at glorious, indifferent peace withthemselves and with their world.
*
In the chill hour before dawn, Sylviana woke from a horrible dream.Some hideous, ill-defined beast had sprung upon Kalus from a shadow, andwith teeth and claws and sheer weight pinned him to the ground, slashingand rending, tearing him apart.
She sat bolt upright in the silent gloom. The room was empty, and thedream had been too real. Forgetting all else she threw on a robe, leftthe building and ran toward the place where she knew he lay sleeping.She no longer cared for games, or being right. She only wanted to bewith him. To hold him and.....
There were sounds ahead of her in the darkness. Two voices. Sheslowed, and then moved off the path, taking cover behind a small tree.What she heard in its near seclusion seemed less real than thenightmare, and yet far more terrible.
'I should go now,' said Kataya, rising and slipping the silk dressacross her arms and shoulders, then lowering it softly into place.
'Yes. I do not think Sylviana would understand. But we understand,don't we? You know what this night was for us?'
'Yes. Just hold me, kiss me once, and then I'll go.'
'Goodbye, my beautiful Kataya.'
'My beautiful Kalus.' And with a tear that no longer wounded her,she was gone.
Sylviana slithered to the ground with her back against the tree, hersorrow as bitter and unquenchable as any she had ever known. Whateverher sins and follies may have been, she paid for them dearly in thosemoments. For she saw more clearly and painfully than ever, as much asif he had been killed, that she loved him beyond all others, almostbeyond her own life. And she knew it as she felt him betray her, andgive the precious love that had been hers alone, to another woman.
Another woman! How could he? After all they had been through..... Howcould he think that she wouldn't come back to him, just because for atime she had been uncertain. Hadn't he driven her to it?
That perhaps it was she who had driven him, that he had given Katayasomething beautiful and desperately needed, that she herself might givesuch a precious gift to a man like Stenmark, none of these thoughtscould occur. Because like Kalus or Kataya (or anyone else), she was aproduct, and in some measure a victim, of the world in which she hadgrown. For she had been taught (though not by her father) that this wasthe one, all-consuming act of a man's betrayal, and a thing whichcould never be forgiven. And like Barabbas in his rage of righteousanger, she too cast him out, out of her heart forever.
On a more human level, and in a flood of final tears, like the littlegirl bereft of her mother she felt devastated and lost, and swore thatshe would never again let anyone come so close, and hurt her so badly.She stood up again, desperate and proud and defiant, ready to go onwithout him.
But she had forgotten his wilderness senses. He had heard her cryingbefore Kataya was out of sight, and realized with crushing finality andself-reproach how much she loved him, and how deeply he had wounded her.He stood now just a few feet away, and committed his second greatmistake of human psychology.
Because whatever rash promises she might have made to herself in the depths of rejection and spiritual agony, so long as they remained within her they might still have softened with time, leaving the heart open to forgiveness and return. But by confronting her then and allowing the volcano to erupt, spewing forth its rage upon him, the hateful words solidified and became a reality unto themselves, a spoken curse that foolish, endless human pride would then have to live up to. He stood before her, pale and shivering, neither explaining nor begging forgiveness. His simple heart would only say. 'I have never loved anyone else. I never could. This was not love, in the way that you and I---' Her open hand struck across his face with the fury of all women scorned. 'I hate you!' she cried hysterically. 'We're finished, FOREVER! And I'll HURT you before I'm through. Just wait and see how I hurt you!' And she stormed away, her love and pain alike submerged beneath the weight of hard words, and harder justice. Because male pride is evil enough, in its blunt and stupid way destroying much that is gentle and fair. But a woman's vengeance, turned devious by the depths of her vulnerability, and the intricate contradiction of her emotions..... True Hell would be raised, one way or the other. Kalus watched her go, and though shocked and stunned and hurt himself, felt yet again the indestructible bond that was his love for her. When she struck him it had been as if he struck himself, and even as she promised to hurt him, his one thought was for her safety. Kataya, Komai, even the cub who stood beside him, became secondary, superfluous in his life. She was his woman, his family, and in everything but name, his wife. And whatever she might do or say, he would never leave her. But as the cub gently nuzzled against his leg, seeking some sign of reassurance, he was dismayed to find large tears running down his face, as in his mind's eye he saw Barabbas with the other males huddled silently behind him, telling him to go. 'Why?' he asked aloud, his burning eyes turned toward the heavens. 'Why must I always be punished for showing mercy, and trying to do what is right?' But it was not mercy he felt when he took Kataya to him, and he knew it. He kicked at a protruding root, but trying to make his anger flare was like trying to make a fire of damp wood. Guilt and remorse quickly smothered it, smothered him. He stroked Alaska's head and said quietly, 'It's all right.' But he neither felt it, nor believed it himself. That afternoon William appeared, like the white shadow of a tenement grave, and Sylviana had found her instrument of revenge.
Chapter 43
All that morning Kalus stayed away, not wanting Sylviana to see him, notwanting to destroy for Kataya what they had shared the night before.The gesture was not entirely noble: now more than ever he found itimpossible to think or plan, and simply did not know what else to do.
But as various members of the company began to return early from theirlabors, as if by mutual consent at the fine Spring weather, the amiableSmith accosted him in the place where he sat brooding. The youngest ofthe company, he had a pleasant, almost boyish face, with sandy hair anda light moustache. He took Kalus up as if they were old friends, andinsisted they share a bottle of wine to celebrate the day. Kalus hardlyfelt like celebrating, and was half fearful of the liquor's effect onhim; but the other's friendly oblivion made it all but impossible tosay no. So at last, wearily, he consented.
The two went briefly to the botanist's rooms to fetch it, then turnedthemselves again out of doors. There in the clear space by the tablesKalus saw the two women: Kataya, who looked up from her work and smiledfaintly, and Sylviana, who did not smile, though she could not entirelyhide her relief at seeing him at all. But the embers of her anger stillsmoldered, waiting only for a restless wind to stoke them again towithering fire.
The two men moved to the crest of the hill which formed one border ofthe grassy bowl in which the others had gathered, and sat beneath thespeckled shade of a young tree that grew there. From here they couldsurvey the company without feeling too close, and therefore inhibited.Smith opened the bottle, and after taking several large gulps (despitethe assumed bravado he was nervous, and uncertain how to proceed) passedit to Kalus, who was much more cautious.
In time he felt the liquor, though he was not overwhelmed by it. Yet hespoke little, gazing wistfully into the small valley at the two women hehad loved: desiring again the one, though he rebuked himself for it,loving, and at the same time hating, the fallen angel of his heart.Smith observed this, and failing in his attempts at indirectconversation, spoke more plainly.
'I guess by now the Doc has explained to you something of ourbreeding problem..... Dave Rawlings can be a bit blunt---subtle as atruck, really---but he generally says the things that need to be said.About mating, for example, and children.' Kalus turned toward himcuriously, as Smith pretended not to notice.
'He and I were just talking about it last night, and do you know whathe said? ?Stop screwing around and just ask them. Enough of thistimidity. It's high time for those of us who can still procreate toget down to some serious fucking.''
If Smith had stopped talking long enough, Kalus would have gotten up andwalked away from what seemed to him a lunatic assault on those things heheld most dear. But he did not stop.
'We've all been in rather a state of shock the past year, sexuallyas well as otherwise. And of course we had plenty of other things tothink about first: constructing the shelters, laying up food for theWinter.'
'Survival,' said Kalus bluntly. 'Just like everyone else.'
'Yes..... Are you angry with me?'
The man-child studied the face of the other, finding nothing butfriendship, sensitivity and good intentions. 'No,' he said sadly.'I don't know what to feel.'
'Should we talk about this another time?'
'What would it change?'
'Probably nothing,' said Smith ruefully. 'You understand thatI'm only speaking
for the good of the group. We're a family,really.'
'But one without children,' added Kalus sympathetically.
'Yes. We need them. . .or everything we do dies with us. Along withall hope for the future.' He took another drink to keep frombetraying emotion. But this only augmented, rather than submerging theyearning for life that so overwhelmed him. 'The sound of theirlaughter,' he began again, his eyes welling. The wail of newbornlife. . .would be such blessed relief from the dry, sterile sound of ourown voices.'
At this Kalus eyes' misted as well, remembering Shama, and the Childon the shore. 'I would give everything I have to hear it,' hesaid, surprised by his own words, and the thoughts that lay behind them.
'Me, too.' And the young scientist put a hand on Kalus'shoulder. 'What I'm trying to tell you is that according to ourtests, only Rawlings, myself and the Commander, still have the abilityto father a child. And in your case, of course, there would be noreason for the sterility.' At Kalus' questioning look he added.'Oh, the others can still make love, it just doesn't get themanywhere..... No pregnancy. No kids.'
'What are you asking me to do?'
Smith sighed, knowing it was now or never. 'Look down there. Yousee that beautiful, slender reed in the black dress?'