It was near lunchtime and the crowds were thickening; Katherine searched for any cage or exhibit that wasn't surrounded by people. Off to the right was a sign marked prairie dogs and she headed toward it, telling Damien everything she knew about prairie dogs on the way. They lived in burrows in the desert, she said, and were very sociable; people in America often captured them and raised them as pets. As they neared the exhibit Katherine found that it too was surrounded by people, all gazing down into a pit. She pushed her way through but saw the animals for no more than an instant, for, in a sudden explosive movement, they all disappeared into their dens. The crowd around her mumbled with disappointment and began to disperse. When Damien craned his neck to see, all there was was a mound of dirt riddled with holes, and he gazed at his mother with dismay.
"Must be lunchtime for them, too," she shrugged.
They pushed on, stopping for hotdogs, eating them as they sat on a bench.
"We'll go see the monkeys," said Katherine. 'Would you like to see the monkeys?"
The path to the Monkey House was clearly marked with signs; following them, they approached a line of cages, Damien's eyes lighting with excitement as the first animal came into view. It was a bear, pacing mechanically back and forth in its confines, oblivious to the people gawking from the other side of the bars. But as Katherine and Damien came near, the bear seemed to notice them. It stopped and glared, its back bristling as they slowly moved by. In the adjoining cage was a large cat, and it too ceased to move; its yellowed eyes riveted upon them, following them as they passed. Next was a baboon, which suddenly bared its teeth, clearly singling them out from the many others who passed. Katherine began to sense the effect they were having on the animals, and she watched them carefully as she passed cage after cage. It was Damien they were watching. And he seemed to feel it too.
"Guess they think you look pretty delicious," smiled Katherine. "I think you do, too."
And she steered him away from the cages, taking another path. Whoops and chattering could be heard resounding from a building ahead, and Katherine knew they were close to the monkeys. It was the most popular of all the indoor exhibits, and they had to wait in line, Katherine parking the stroller and carrying Damien in her arms.
Inside, the atmosphere was hot and fetid; the din of children's squeals echoed off the walls, the sound somehow amplified by the confinement. From their position by the door they could see nothing, but Katherine sensed, by the people's reaction, that the monkeys were performing in a far cage. With Damien in her arms, she pushed into the mob, forcing her way until they got a glimpse of what was happening. It was a cage of spider monkeys and they were in high gear, swinging on tires and bounding in all directions, pleasing the crowd with their acrobatics. Damien was excited, beginning to laugh, and Katherine pushed forcefully ahead, determined to get him a front-row view. The monkeys were oblivious to their audience, but as Katherine and Damien came forward, the mood within the cage seemed to change. The playful activity stopped as, one by one, the animals began to turn, their small eyes darting nervously, searching the crowd. The crowd too fell silent, curious that the animals had stopped, but waiting with anticipatory smiles for the action to suddenly resume. When it did, it was in a way that no one expected. There was a sudden howl within the cage, a shriek of fear or warning, and as it rose, all the animals joined in. In a desperate surge, the cage exploded with movement, the monkeys bounding frantically about their cage, trying to get out. Cramming toward the rear of the cage, they strained to break the wire-mesh window; panicked, as though a predator had suddenly been let loose in their midst. In their frenzy, they clawed at one another, blood beginning to flow as their paws and teeth sought desperately for escape. The crowd stood silent, aghast, but Damien was laughing, pointing at the horrifying scene and squealing with delight. Within the cage, the panic rose, a large monkey propelling himself upward through a wire-mesh ceiling, caught there by the neck, his body jerking until it went limp. People cried out in horror, some heading for the doors, but their cries were drowned out by the wail of the animals, wild-eyed and salivating now, propelled by sheer terror as they bounded from wall to wall. One among them began hurling its body headlong into the solid concrete, blood covering its face until it staggered and fell, its body convulsing as others jumped around it and shrieked in horror. There was pushing now in the crowd of onlookers, the people themselves panicking as they desperately sought to escape. Despite being shoved and jostled, Katherine was somehow frozen in place. Her child was laughing. Pointing and laughing, as though somehow promoting the suicidal din. It was he they were frightened of. He who was doing it. And as the holocaust increased, Katherine began to scream.
Chapter Six
Katherine returned home late that night, Damien already asleep in the car. After the zoo they had merely driven, the child sitting in silence, hurt and confused as to what was wrong. He tried to repeat the poem once, the one about gorillas and monkeys and horses and donkeys, but Katherine was mute, her gaze fixed firmly ahead. When darkness came, Damien indicated he was hungry, but his mother refused to respond, and he crawled into the back seat, where he found a blanket, and fell asleep.
Katherine drove swiftly but aimlessly, trying to escape the fear that was overtaking her. It was not the fear of Damien, or of Mrs. Baylock. It was the fear that she was going insane.
At Pereford, Jeremy was waiting, expecting to find her in good spirits; he had asked that dinner be held until she arrived. They sat now at a small table, Thorn's eyes on Katherine as she quietly, and tensely tried to eat.
"Are you all right, Katherine?"
"Yes."
"So silent.".
"Just tired, I guess."
"Full day?"
"Yes."
Her manner was abrupt, as though she resented the intrusion.
"Was it fun?"
"Yes."
"You seem disturbed."
"Do I?"
"What's wrong?"
"What could be wrong?"
"I don't know. You seem upset."
"Just tired. I just need some sleep."
She feigned a smile, but it was not convincing. Thorn was troubled as he studied her.
"Damien all right?" asked Thorn.
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Thorn watched her, and she averted her eyes.
"If there were anything wrong' ... you'd tell me, wouldn't you?" he asked. "I mean ... with Damien?"
"With Damien? What could be wrong with Damien, Jeremy? What could be wrong with our son? We are the 'blessed' people, aren't we?"
She caught his eye and seemed to smile, but the expression showed no pleasure.
"I mean, only 'goodness' comes to the House of the Thorns," she said. "Black clouds just stay away."
"There is something wrong, isn't there?" asked Thorn quietly.
Katherine lowered her head into her hands and remained immobile.
"Kathy..." said Thorn gently. "What is it?"
"I think ..." she replied, struggling to control her voice, "... I want to see a doctor." She raised her eyes, and they were filled with pain. "I have ... fears,'" she said. "Fears that a normal person wouldn't have."
"Kathy . . ." Thorn whispered. "What kind of fears?"
"If I told you, you'd have me locked up."
"No ..." he assured her. "No ... I love you."
"Then help me," she pleaded. "Find me a doctor."
A tear had slid from her eye, and Thorn reached for her hands.
"Of course," he said. "Of course."
And she wept, the events of the day remaining locked, forever, inside her.
Psychiatrists were not as common in England as they were in America, and it was with some difficulty that Thorn found one he felt he could trust. He was American, younger than Thorn would have preferred, but well recommended, with a broad range of experience. His name was Charles Greer. Schooled at Princeton, interned at Bellevue, he was of particular interest bec
ause he had lived for a time in Georgetown and had treated several senators' wives.
"The common problem among politicians' wives is alcoholism," said Greer as Thorn sat before him in the psychiatrist's office. "I think it's the feeling of isolation. The feeling of inadequacy. The fear that they have no identity of their own."
"You understand the need for confidence," said Thorn.
"That's all I have to sell," smiled the psychiatrist. "People confide in me, and frankly that's all I have to offer. They don't discuss their problems with other people precisely because they think their confidences will come back to haunt them. I'm safe. I can't promise much, but I can promise you that."
"Shall I have her call you?"
"Just give her my number. Don't have her call."
"It's not that she doesn't want to. She asked me ..."
"Good."
As Thorn rose uneasily, the young doctor smiled.
"Will you call me after you've seen her?" asked Thorn.
"I doubt it," Greer replied simply.
"I mean ... if you have something to say?"
"What I have to say I'll say to her"
"I mean, if you're worried about her . .."
"Is she suicidal?"
"... No."
'Then I won't be worried about her. I'm sure it's not as serious as you think."
Reassured, Thorn headed for the door.
"Mr. Thorn?"
"Yes?"
"Why did you come here today?"
"To see you."
"For what reason?"
Thorn shrugged. "See what you looked like, I guess."
"Was there something in particular you wanted to say?"
Thorn was uneasy. After pondering he shook his head.
"Are you suggesting that I might want to see a psychiatrist?"
"Do you?"
"Do I look like I need one?"
"Do I?" asked the psychiatrist.
"No."
'Well, I have one," smiled Greer. "In my line of work I'd be in trouble if I didn't."
The conversation was unsettling, and after Thorn returned to his office, he mused upon it all day. When with Greer, he had felt an urge to talk, to tell him things he had told no one before. But what good would it do? The deception was something he had to live with, a fact of life. And yet he longed for someone else to know.
The day passed slowly, as Thorn attempted to prepare an important speech. It was to be delivered the following evening to a group of prominent businessmen, and it was likely that representatives of Arab oil interests would be there. Thorn wanted it to be a special speech, a plea for pacifism. It was the continuing conflict over Israel that was causing the widening rift between the United States and the Arab bloc, and Thorn knew the Arab-Israeli hostilities were historical in nature, deeply rooted in the scriptures. For this reason he looked to the Bible, not one but three, seeking to amplify his understanding with the wisdom of the ages. In truth, there was a more practical reason, for there was not an audience in the world that failed to be impressed with quotations from the scriptures.
He sealed himself off for the afternoon, ordering his lunch in as he studied, and then, finding difficulty locating meaningful passages, he sent a messenger out for a bibliography and interpretive text. It was easier after that, for he could turn to the relevant passages and then, in many cases, find a theological view of their meaning.
It was the first time Thorn had cracked the pages of a Bible since he was a child. He found it fascinating, particularly in the light of the ceaseless violence in the Middle East. He discovered it was the Jew Abraham who was first promised by God that his people would inherit the Holy Land.
I will multiply thee and I will make of thee a multitude of people. I will give this country to thy posterity and after thee in order that they shall possess it forever.
The country given by God to the Jews was clearly delineated in the Books of Genesis and Joshua as the land extending from the River of Egypt to Lebanon and the Euphrates. Thorn looked at his atlas and found that the State of Israel presently occupied only the narrow strip between Jordan and the Mediterranean. Just a small piece of what God had apparently promised. Could it be that Israel's drive for expansion was dictated by this? Thorn's interest deepened and he looked further. If God could make such a promise, why then could God not fulfill it?
If you keep my covenant you will be for me a kingdom of priests and a Holy Nation.
Perhaps that was the clue. The Jews had not kept the Lord's covenant. It was believed, then, that the Jews had killed Christ. The Book of Deuteronomy bore this out, for after the death of Christ it was declared to the Jews:
The Lord shall scatter you among the peoples, and you shall be left few in number among the Nations where the Lord drives you. You will be taken captive among all Nations, and Jerusalem will be trampled under foot by the Gentiles until the time of the Gentiles be fulfilled.
This was reiterated by the Book of Luke, the word "Gentiles" replaced with the word "Nations." You will be trampled under foot until the time of the Nations be fulfilled. This clearly prophesied that the Jews would be persecuted throughout history, and then the persecution would stop. But what was the time of the Nations? The time when the persecution would end?
Turning to his interpretive texts, Thorn found evidence of God's wrath. It was an historical log of persecution that began with the Jews being driven from Israel by King Solomon, then slaughtered by the Crusaders as they fled. In the year 1000 it had been documented that twelve thousand Jews were murdered, then in the year 1200 all who had sought refuge in England were expelled or hanged. In the year 1298 one hundred thousand Jews were slaughtered in Franconia, Bavaria, and Austria; in September, 1306, another one hundred thousand were expelled from France under threat of death. In 1348 the Jews were accused of having caused a worldwide epidemic of Black Plague, and more than a million of them were sought out and killed across the globe. In August, 1492, the very time that
Columbus was gaining glory for his country by discovering the New World, the Spanish Inquisition drove out half a million Jews and put another half million to death. The grim log continued, to the time of Hitler who annihilated over six million Jews, leaving only eleven million, homeless and poverty-stricken, across the entire face of the globe. Was it any wonder, the zeal with which they now fought for their refuge, for a country they could call their own? And was it any wonder that they waged each offensive as though it were their last?
I will make of thee a great Nation, God had promised: And I will bless thee and I will make thy name great; so be thou a blessing ... and all the families of the earth blessed in Thee.
Thorn turned again to his interpretive texts and found that in God's promise to Abraham were three separate and equally important factors. The gift of a country, Israel. The assurance that Abraham and his descendants would become a great nation. And finally, above all, the "blessing"; the coming of the Saviour. The Jews' return to Zion was linked to the second coming of Christ, and if that were true, the time was now at hand. There was no evidence as to how or when this coming would occur; the prophecies were shrouded in legend and religious symbols. Could Christ already be on earth? Was he again born of woman, and walking among us now?
An instinctive speculator, Thorn's mind roamed the possibilities. If Christ were born on the earth now, he would, as before, be dressed in attire of the day. No more robes and crowns of thorn, but chinos perhaps, or Levis, or a suit and tie. Was he born yet? And if so, why was he silent? Surely the world was in a big enough mess.
Thorn carried these thoughts home and brought his books as well. After Katherine had retired and the house was dark and silent around him, he opened the books in his study and began to ponder again. It was the return of Christ that sparked his imagination, and he sought out pertinent passages of text. He found it immensely complicated, for it was prophesied in the Book of Revelations that when Christ returned to earth he would have to face his antithesis. The Anti-Christ. The
Son of Evil. And the earth would be swept asunder by the final contest between Heaven and Hell. It would be Armageddon. The Apocalypse. The end of the world.
From the silence of his den, Thorn heard a sound coming from the upstairs of the house. It was a moan. It came twice and then stopped. Leaving the den, he moved quietly up the stairs and gazed in at Katherine. She was asleep, but restless, her face bathed in sweat. He watched her until her tossing ceased and her breath became even, and then he withdrew, heading back to the stairs. As he felt his way down the darkened hall, he passed Mrs. Baylock's room, noticing the door slightly ajar. The massive woman was asleep on her back, a mountain of flesh spotlighted by the moonlight flooding in through her window. Thorn was about to continue but was suddenly halted, shocked by the woman's face. It was powdered a ghastly white. She was wearing lipstick, too, garishly applied, as though put on in a state of drunken stupor. It was a chilling sight and he felt weakened by it, struggling to sort it out. It made no sense. In the privacy of her room, the woman had painted herself like a harlot.
Closing her door, he returned downstairs, gazing again at the books laid out before him. He was troubled now, unable to concentrate, his eyes idly wandering across the opened pages. The small King James Bible was opened to the Book of Daniel, and he stared at it in silence.
.. . And then shall arise a contemptible one whom royal majesty has not been given. He shall come by counterfeit means and obtain the Kingdom by flatteries. Armies shall be swept away before him and broken ... and he shall act deceitfully and he shall become strong with a small people. Without warning he shall come into the richest parts; and he shall do what neither his fathers nor his fathers' fathers have done, scattering among the people plunder, spoils, and goods. He shall devise plans against strongholds, he shall exalt himself and magnify himself above every God, and shall speak astonishing things against the God of Gods. He shall prosper until the indignation is accomplished, for what is determined shall be done.