‘What is it?’ enquired Ben Ata, calm and magisterial. ‘You shouldn’t jump about like that, should you? It’s bad for the child.’
Considering the strenuosities both committed daily and nightly she decided to ignore this altogether. But she did sit down, slowly, and did calm herself. For what she felt was that if she could not communicate to Ben Ata the nature of the superiority that subsisted in her memories and her past substance — even if that was not what she was now — then there was no use in insisting on anything.
‘That’s right,’ he said, in a kindly, but perhaps absent-minded way.
He was thinking that when this child of theirs was born, he would order celebrations and festivities of all kinds. So it was essential to make sure the mock war was well over by that time. He took out the paper he had written his order on, and made an alteration in a date.
‘And I think, when we have the celebrations,’ he remarked, as if she had been kept informed of all his plans, ‘that the other children should act as attendants. Or in some such capacity.’
Al·Ith already knew that Ben Ata had fathered innumerable children, in the course of his soldiering, and that these were put into children’s regiments as soon almost as they could walk. The Children’s Army was quite a feature of life here. She had been indignant when she had first heard this — but her indignation had been absorbed into the need to understand.
She had not replied. Ben Ata now realized she had been silent a very long time and, having amended his order and pushed it into his belt, looked up and smiled.
‘Are you all right, my dear?’
‘I would like to see something of the country, Ben Ata. No, it would be all right now, I am sure. I have become acclimatized.’
He was instantly enlivened. ‘Oh, good. You could travel with me on manoeuvres. Would you like that?’
Al·Ith was thoughtful. She had the look of one tasting a new food, or experience. ‘I don’t see why not … but what I was thinking was this — I’d like to ask the women to make a festival of their songs. We used to do that, I seem to remember. At home. Something like that.’
‘Oh, they wouldn’t like that, my dear! They have their own ideas, you know. No man can go near one of their ceremonies — not if he values his manhood.’ And he sat back on his ridiculous little chair and roared with laughter, enormously amused.
‘I wasn’t thinking of you, actually. I could go. As a woman.’
‘So you are fed up with me already!’
‘We might perhaps bear to be separated for an evening?’
Here they reassured each other with some small nibbling kisses, but there was a tinge of the perfunctory in them, there was no doubt of that.
‘I’ll write a note for Dabeeb, when she comes to bring our next meal.’
‘I’ll speak to her myself.’
‘Oh, no, it is always much better to put things into writing, there’s no possibility of misunderstandings then.’
Al·Ith did not contradict, but merely determined, privately, to attract Dabeeb’s attention, and have her say. She smiled gently at Ben Ata, as if in total agreement.
Shortly, they did in fact see Dabeeb come up the hill.
Ben Ata strode to the arch and onto the verandah and prevented her from simply setting down her dishes and running away again.
Al·Ith heard him giving her the piece of paper with the orders for the mock war, and instructing her that next time there would be an order regarding Al·Ith’s wishes, but he had not yet written it.
‘Oh, what a nice thing,’ Dabeeb was cooing, ‘it would be so nice to do something to please the lady. But meanwhile, could I have a word with her myself?’
‘Come in,’ said he, stepping aside, and off he went to his quarters to write out Al·Ith’s wishes for her.
The two women were alone. Al·Ith got to her feet, and they went rapidly to the farthest point away from Ben Ata’s apartments.
Al·Ith whispered to her what she wanted, and Dabeeb understood at once and said, ‘The women will be pleased. In fact they were talking about asking you. They asked me to mention something of the kind — and now there’s no need.’
At this point in strode Ben Ata, the picture of uxorious benevolence. But as he came towards them, he had time to think that one of these days it might be pleasant to have Dabeeb to himself for an evening or two: he visualized himself astonishing her by all that he had learned in this long period of — but he hastily censored the word imprisonment, and substituted pleasure-making — with Al·Ith. This thought appeared on his face as a self-congratulatory smile, and both instantly understood it.
He handed a written chit to Dabeeb, who opened it, read it, and remarked soothingly, ‘It is always so much better to have a thing written down. But there is one thing, Ben Ata, sir, it isn’t a question of having a singsong any time we have a mind to it, it’s just our foolishness, don’t think anything else, but we have them at times and seasons.’
‘Very well then, next time it is a time or a season, just invite Al·Ith, and I’ll see that she runs along in good order.’
‘Thank you. We will all be very honoured.’ To Al·Ith, as she turned to go, she gave the fleetest of winks, and wishing them a good appetite, she ran off down the hill.
They spent a fond night, and then, in the morning, Ben Ata confessed that he did not believe that these new war games could possibly get under way without his supervision and begged leave to go off on his kingly affairs for a few days.
Al·Ith found herself first in a state of tender desolation at the thought of spending even an hour without him, then a flash of panic, which alerted her to consider her state pathological, then indignation that he should want to leave her, and then, unmistakably, relief. Oh, what a wonderful thing, to be given an opportunity to locate her own self again — which seemed so far from her she doubted whether she could recognize it — and then to dwell for some time at least inside it, with her own, her real, purposes … whatever they might be. For she could not remember.
Meanwhile, Ben Ata, believing her silence to be sadness, and dreading that she might weep or plead with him, announced that he would make arrangements for her to accompany him on at least some part of the way towards the war but, of course, she must return home before the games actually started, because it would never do for her to get overexcited.
Al·Ith agreed to everything, sending him off down the hill with a warm and lingering kiss that she could not remember ever having given anyone before, for it seemed to have in it far too much of the suppliant.
And, having waved to him for as long as she could see his broad figure marching energetically off towards the camps, she returned to her apartments, bathed and perfumed herself, and dressed in a white woollen dress embroidered all over in colourful flowery patterns, and was just about to take herself out of the other door into the gardens that were full of the fountains, and where the drum kept up its beat — but from where? everywhere, now this place, and now that — when Dabeeb suddenly appeared again, whispering that Al·Ith should go with her now, for it was the exact night when the women held their ceremonies, but of course she could not have told Ben Ata, since no man ever knew when the women congregated. They were not told, and the one man who had infiltrated their secret meeting place wished very much that he had not.
Al·Ith flung Ben Ata’s cloak around her, quite in the style of Zone Four and, hand in hand with Dabeeb, ran down the damp hillside through the lines of the tents, no one seeing them, since all the soldiers were too busy with the war that was to begin in precisely four days’ time, and out into the fields beyond.
There they ran without stopping through the short damp grass, disturbing herd after herd of melancholy cows, and crossing innumerable small bridges, and jumping over ditches and canals until, quite drunk and elated with all this fast movement even though it was through the enervating and unresisting air, came to a great stone building that looked deserted. It was an old fort, the relic of some past and gone war, for it was
partly in ruins.
But when they had dodged past some thickets, through some bushes, and beneath a great arch, they were in a large stone hall, and this was quite filled with women of all ages, who were sitting on benches around long wooden tables, with food and vessels of wine in front of them. There was a cleared place in the centre of all this, and there a group of young girls were singing as they made all kinds of movements with their arms and bodies. Everyone was laughing, and enjoying themselves. Seeing Al·Ith, they rose to their feet, held up their hands above their heads and clapped vigorously to indicate she was welcome, and then sat down again to continue watching the girls. Al·Ith was shown a place at the head of a long table, and without further ceremony she seated herself, with Dabeeb beside her. She did not at once take in her surroundings, because she was too interested in the girls, five of them, vigorously acting out these words, which they were singing solemnly, and with concentration, to get them exactly right, so that there was the oddest contrast between their demeanour and what surely had been, at least to start with, some playground counting game?
All together they sang:
‘I found a string of beads, I hung it on a tree, A prettier string of beads, You did never see.’
And then, each taking a line:
‘They didn’t come from you, They didn’t come from you, They didn’t come from you, Beads as nice as these,
Are very far and few.’
Together again:
‘I found a string of beads, I hung it on a chair, Beads as nice as these Can only come from there.’
And separately:
‘There is where they grow Where we have to go, Though the King says No. Where the clouds are snow, We have no beads like these, Made of clouds and snow.’
And the five girls, in the full coloured skirts and low-necked bodices that were the usual dress of the women, whirled around in a quick dance, whose steps were, Al·Ith could see, most precisely and minutely prescribed. And then, they stopped, all at once, so that the skirts swirled about their legs. And, as they did so, every woman and girl and girl child in the place stood up and ran from their benches out into the space with the dancers. And now Al·Ith saw that the western side of the great hall had been carefully removed at about two-thirds of the way up, to give a view of the mountains of Zone Three from one end to the other. Here the tops were not visible, but even so, this crowd of women, lifting up their arms and performing some act of worship or of remembrance, had to bend back their heads to see the mountains. It was early evening, the light hung there with a sad and meaningful density and Al·Ith, amazed, realized that for all the time she had been shut up — as she now felt it — with the king, she had not once gone out to gaze up at her own realm, at her own mountain heights. She simply had not thought to do it. And, standing there, letting her head fall back and back on the tension of her neck, she found it difficult, and the muscles complaining. It was clear, too, that many of the women could not sustain this pose for longer than a few moments and were glad to let their heads fall level again. But others were not only maintaining their own difficult posture, but had their hands out and supporting the heads of others, mostly younger ones, by tilting them back by their chins. Some of these protested a little, and stood firm, then were pleased when released, and sat down at their places, massaging their necks. All at once, the whole company returned to their seats.
Into the empty space now came a dozen mature women, in the same colourful skirts and blouses that the girls had worn, but they were large and one or two even gross, but all good-humoured and smiling, with the kind of shrewd knowingness that they seemed to feel was due from them, for it was this expression they adjusted on their faces as they energetically belted out this bit of doggerel, swinging their hips and making all kinds of suggestive gestures, so that in no time the whole company was howling with laughter.
‘Who fell in the canal last night
Giving you such a nasty fright?
Pick up your skirts and pick up your cape
Pick up your skirts and run.
Who got under your skirts last night,
Giving you such a nasty fright,
Up in the snows we’ll climb and go,
Up to the snows we’ll go.
Who woke you up from that dream last night,
A dream of clouds and snow and light,
Coming from far away,
Coming from far away.
Who told us that the road was there,
Plain as your arm and always there,
Going to far away,
Going to far away …’
And again, as the end was reached, every female clattered out from her place and into the dancing place, and stood with her head back, gazing at the mountains which were now dark, their shapes and heaps outlined by a bluish luminousness that must be starlight — but no stars were visible, for the whole vast window was filled with the mountain slopes. Al·Ith went with the women, and stood there in the crowd. Her neck muscles ached and resisted, and she could see that again some of those who were having their heads supported back by others had tears in their eyes and bit their lips with the effort of it.
And then, after only a short time, for it was clear that this exercise could not be sustained for longer, all of them crowded back to their seats. Platters of food were being brought out from some kitchen at the end of the hall, and girls went around replenishing the jugs of wine.
The festivity, or ceremony — for it was that — went on, through the night. As soon as one game, or song, or counting rhyme was finished, everyone rushed to join in the act of stretching their muscles, and keeping them stretched — for by now it was clear that this in fact was the intention behind these rituals. And all the time new groups of girls and women went out to contribute their song, and each one was, obviously, a repetition of something done many times before. For often the words and their sense had nothing to do with the gestures that accompanied them. Lewd gestures and nods and winks could illustrate verses whose words were innocent, and the other way about, too. Yet every woman there knew exactly what words or gestures to expect at every moment, for more than once the singers and actors were corrected, by someone calling out: ‘No, you put your arm out there,’ or ‘You don’t smile there, it’s in the next line.’
A ritual. A rite. And that there was an especial vigour and energy in it tonight because she was there, Al·Ith knew, for she was aware that all watched her, openly or covertly, according to their natures, to see how she was taking it all – and with such hope!
Long after midnight, when the mountains were already beginning to pale, Dabeeb, on a signal from someone who had been acting as mistress of co-ordination, walked out by herself into the centre of the empty space, and stood waiting for silence. No one else had sung, or danced, alone.
There was a close, attentive silence.
She sang:
‘If I said to you, you are a man,
You’d pick up a stick,
Throw it for a dog to fetch:
And so you went to school!
Very well, let’s play the fool!’
And everyone echoed: ‘Let’s play the fool.’
‘I say to you, you are a man!
Is there no work for you?
Were you not set a task to do?
That’s not your rule?’
And everyone came in with: ‘Then — play the fool!’
‘I watch you, man and man and man,
Throw stones from off a shore,
To see who throws them short, or far:
And so you go to school:
To play the fool.’
This next verse was anticipated, for everywhere Al·Ith could see angry, bitter, reddened faces, leaning forward, and now the company took up the words and sang them with Dabeeb:
‘Oh, little boy, dear baby,
Why are you slow and silly?
Swaggering and silly …’
[This was hissed out, with bitter intensity.]
‘Was t
hat your school?
To play the fool?’
And now Dabeeb again, alone:
‘The mountains mass and fill the sky,
Yours to hold and know,
You loiter here below,
This is your rule,
To play the fool.
Match your women, men and man,
Without you they can’t,
Without you they won’t,
Bend the rule
That plays the fool.
Man, are you man enough to man
And make the road, the rod, the tool?
No? —’
[And now every female there hissed out, in a frenzy of anger and bitterness]
‘—Then play the fool!
Very well, let’s play the fool!
We’ll play the fool!’
And as Dabeeb’s deep soft voice fell silent, everyone got to her feet and rushed, not to the centre place, as before, but clean out of the hall. And Al·Ith and Dabeeb came after them. Outside the hall was a court, surrounded by low buildings. The mountains were now visible from their foothills to their topmost peaks. The brilliant stars shed their blue gleam, but the sky was softening and becoming gold in the east. So the mountains were looming there illuminated as if from within, and their peaks seemed not much lower than the zenith. Everywhere the women stood, their necks stretched back, some shaking and staggering with the effort, some cursing their inability, and some, as always, being assisted by others. And now they stayed a long time, compared with the brief efforts within the hall, fighting and struggling with themselves to get their heads back so that they could see everything in those wonderful mountains that seemed to float on a bluish mist, their peaks wreathed with cloud that was snow.
Al·Ith was weeping, like them, but it was for her faithlessness to them, and she was supporting her neck on her two clasped hands. And then, again, and all at once, the women let their heads fall forward. She saw an astonishing thing: a number of them, mostly the younger ones, picked up heavy metal helmets from a pile against a wall, and fitted these down on their heads. The weight and clumsiness of these helmets could be seen by the effort the poor creatures had to make to keep their heads up at all. And they peered from strained eyes, filled with tears, trying to keep their gaze level. They looked at Al·Ith, and with such longing. All came quickly up to her whispering, ‘Al·Ith, help us, help us. Al·Ith,’ and then, with the suddenness she now knew was their way of doing things, they began running out of the court, but in twos and threes, while a woman who had climbed up onto a low roof acted as sentinel and called out as she thought it safe for them to leave. Al·Ith and Dabeeb went out last, and already it seemed that they were looking out into a deserted dawn landscape, so completely had the women been absorbed by the misty half-light. But Al·Ith saw one girl, holding her head up with both hands in its heavy metal case, weeping and swearing as she staggered forward. And she heard the words float back: ‘Help us, help us, Al·Ith …’