As Meat Loves Salt

  ‘Er – later.’ He was gone.

  Everyone in the house was mad.

  Company was expected that afternoon; I was doomed to endure the colonists and their ravings. Harry, Elizabeth, Jeremiah I could at times give ear to, but Roger Rowly never. If God kept throwing myself and Rowly thus together, I thought, He must be thirsting to greet Rowly in Heaven. Ferris, never idle where he could be foolishly busy, had written to that Richard Parr of whom Daniel had told us. I sighed upon hearing inwardly to hear that Parr was to make one with the rest.

  At noon Ferris came down, without his sheet of paper, and we dined on roast goose and salted cabbage. I could scarce digest it, my stomach was so jumping about. For some reason there was no apple sauce. Ferris ate savagely, not like himself, clashing his knife in the dish so that the noise set my teeth on edge. Becs, scenting rage in the air, stepped demurely in and out of the room, not setting her wits to ours or even looking back at me as usual. I found that I missed those attentions which had so grated on me before. Perhaps Aunt was right, and I was vain.

  ‘Becs should find a young man,’ I said when all the plates were cleared and Ferris was casting about for his draft pamphlet.

  He snorted. ‘Don’t you worry about her, she can look out for herself.’

  I spotted the draft propped against a fruit dish and we settled down to read it through one last time before they arrived. A blessed calm spread through the room; we sat harmoniously side by side as Izzy used to sit over a book with Caro. For once my sense was sleeping and I could be close to him without the usual pangs.

  ‘There is nothing about children,’ exclaimed Ferris. ‘I forgot.’ He scribbled in the margin.

  ‘Did you note what we said about tools?’

  ‘Aye, see here. But not in full.’

  This puzzled me. ‘I thought you were putting it in while I was with Aunt? On that bit of paper?’

  ‘What paper?’ He looked around the room as if it might be hiding there.

  ‘The paper you were writing when I came down from Aunt’s room. You took it up again with you.’

  ‘Ah. That.’

  I stared at him. ‘So, if this be the fair copy—’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘—where are the notes on children? On the other sheet, the one upstairs?’

  ‘Yes.’ Ferris was avoiding my eyes. Such a debate over a paper was ridiculous, and yet I could not let it go while I felt he was keeping something from me.

  ‘So go and fetch the other sheet,’ I urged.

  ‘I have the matter off by heart,’ he snapped. In another minute we would be jangling outright.

  ‘Then nothing’s lost. I only wished to be sure of it.’

  He tapped his forehead, saying ‘Everything’s here,’ then gave a rueful smile. ‘All ready for Rowly.’

  ‘Why must we have him, Ferris?’

  He spread his hands. ‘The man can make clothes.’

  ‘Could not the women do that?’

  ‘Is that what you want, a lass to measure you for breeches?’

  ‘Let’s have a tailor by all means, just not that one.’

  ‘He’s over-keen; but we need men who have the root of the matter in them. Experience will sober him.’

  Over-keen? He’s not the only one, I thought, eyeing my friend’s shoulders, which showed none of the bulk which fits men for heavy labour. In all his travels through the wretched, war-stripped countryside he had learnt nothing from the sight of those farmworkers, cursed with weak bodies and lack of provision, who buckle under the weight of a bale of straw. If ever he came to that, I promised myself, I would carry him back to London by force. Aunt and I should keep him prisoner.

  The knocker downstairs clacked: the first inhabitants of the New Jerusalem. Harry came up, bringing the scent of smoke and horses with him, followed by Elizabeth carrying her littlest babe. Both parents smiled to me as well as to Ferris, and I began to feel the meeting might not be so bad.

  ‘How’s trade?’ I asked them while Ferris was downstairs seeking out some canary.

  ‘Coming on a bit,’ said Harry. ‘More are staying at home, now. But I swear they’re eating their horses.’

  His spouse’s face bore a look of wifely patience; she had clearly heard this more often than she could wish, and I was sorry to have brought it on again, since it irked her.

  ‘Is the pamphlet ready?’ she asked, holding the little one upright so it could stamp its feet on her lap.

  ‘In draft,’ I said. ‘I’ll set up the type tonight.’ To my ears, this speech rang with a thrilling authority, especially when Elizabeth looked at me with respect.

  Ferris brought up some little hot cakes with the wine, observing in an undertone to me, ‘Becs seems to think we need sweetening.’ While the cakes were being passed round I heard the clack of the door again and the maid at once bawled up the stairs, ‘I can’t go!’ as she sometimes did if she were frying or something of the sort. I went down and found Rowly bowing to me on the step; resisting the temptation to close the door in his face, I bade him enter.

  ‘You look weary,’ he observed as he stepped in. ‘Nothing amiss?’

  Despite myself my mouth twisted up at the memory of the previous night’s goings-on. Rowly might be surprised to know the half of what was amiss in this house.

  ‘I hope you sleep well?’ he persisted. I looked blank at him, and he smirked. ‘Not weeping still?’ So that was it: Caro. He thought to have found a way to bait me.

  ‘Stop there, rag merchant.’ I barred his way to the stairs. ‘The next time you speak of that, you find yourself outside the house. Do I make myself clear?’

  He bristled up. ‘Does Ferris let you throw out his friends?’

  ‘I am Ferris’s friend. But just hold you there.’ I rolled up my sleeve and showed him the arm which had carried an eighteen-foot pike. ‘See that?’

  Rowly looked at the muscles and raised his eyes back to mine. I could see fear in them now behind the mockery, and I pursued, ‘Want to lay your arm alongside it?’

  He lowered his gaze. I made a sudden feint at him with my fist, and watched him flinch.

  ‘Well,’ I went on, ‘this arm says I can put you out with one hand and hold off Ferris with the other. So remember.’ I let him squeeze past, leaving just enough room for him if he pressed up against me, and he went through meekly, head lowered and body folded together. A warmth spread through me until I remembered that I was supposed to be furthering God’s will. But perhaps God’s will was that I should protect my friend from such twopenny jacks.

  Before I could get to the top stair someone was hammering at the door again; I descended and found Jeremiah Andrews, and a young man with him who could only be Richard Parr. This last had blue eyes glittering with joyous lunacy: by the look of him, he had none of Rowly’s insolence but even less contact with the earth beneath his feet. I welcomed Andrews and then had Parr fall on me, clapping my back and chuckling with pleasure at our great design. He babbled like a river: What was my name? Where was Ferris? Was I to be one of the brethren?

  Sighing, I mounted the stairs. Parr scampered to the top, Jeremiah grinning at us both. Our new friend was an enthusiast if ever I saw one, and Jeremiah saw it too, for he clapped his hands over his face in mock despair behind the young man’s back.

  Parr burst into the room ahead of us; when I got there I found him kissing Ferris on both cheeks. I thought he presumed too much on my friend’s good nature, but then he did the same to all the rest of the company.

  ‘An Italian custom,’ he chirruped as he finally subsided into one of the fireside chairs.

  Seeing a space next to Rowly, I took great pleasure in seating myself in it.

  Ferris was just handing about the last drinks. He held out a cake he had kept for me, and invited the guests to propose a toast.

  ‘To the New Covenant,’ cried out Richard Parr, slopping wine over Elizabeth’s sleeve. ‘In which we shall be saved eternally by the Christ rising in us.’ He stared about like one
distracted and I suddenly remarked the beauty of his jewelled eyes, which put me in mind of Nathan. More than one member of the company, forgetting to raise the glass and drink, gazed back at him as at a lover. ‘An end to punishment, whore to Mammon! The beginning of the New Jerusalem, under the guidance of a man of vision!’ His eyes flashed admiration and I was vexed to witness Ferris’s returning look: it seemed he was not proof against the flattery of an idiot.

  The guests drank, praised the quality of the wine, and received more.

  Elizabeth asked, ‘What shall be done with murderers and violators if we are not to punish them?’

  ‘To let them go free were licence, not liberty,’ put in Jeremiah.

  ‘The thing is to avoid undue force,’ said Rowly. ‘Working all of us together, we could capture a man without stabbing or broken bones.’

  ‘How, in a net?’ asked Elizabeth. The men here laughed, and she protested, ‘It was no jest!’

  I could not resist. ‘So, Roger, were I a violator, or murderer, you see no difficulty in my capture? Provided you had company.’

  ‘Working together we might capture even the most brutish,’ Rowly struck back.

  Ferris glared at me.

  ‘Why talk of brutes? Where people live together, you’ll find always disagreement,’ said Harry. ‘Sooner or later, a man will be arrested.’

  A chill settled on the room.

  ‘We are to live like brothers,’ pleaded Ferris.

  ‘Brothers don’t always agree,’ said Jeremiah. I thought how right he was. Ferris, his aunt’s sole darling, had no conception of those wars fiercer than any fought for King or Parliament.

  ‘A prison, then?’ asked Harry.

  Ferris looked troubled. ‘I thought transgressors could be put to work the fields.’

  ‘In chains? For if not, they’ll run off,’ said Harry.

  ‘He wants the work of making the chains,’ said Rowly, raising a general laugh against the smith; the latter joined in the mirth along with the rest, but said afterwards, ‘That I would gladly put in free, if ‘twere wanted; but is it wanted?’

  ‘Are we leaving London to build a prison?’ cried Ferris.

  ‘It grates, I know,’ said Harry. He patted Ferris’s shoulder with his great calloused paw.

  ‘God will direct us in time. Our task is only to have faith in the cause,’ insisted Parr.

  ‘I see you were never in the army,’ I told him. ‘You’d have had a bellyful of causes, there.’ A sickening prospect of such disputes stretched away from me like mirrors in mirrors; all the future taken up with fools’ parliaments, and never again to talk to Ferris alone.

  Miserable, I looked round for my friend. He was opening up more wine to further confuse our Babel. They fell on it eagerly, evidently considering his cellar as part of the common storehouse already. How could this turn out a noble project? For the first time my belief in my vision wavered: every hair of me shrank from a life passed in such company. Just to look at them was to know this was not God’s meaning. I would pray again, I decided, as soon as I could get decently away; I would pray and wait on the spirit.

  ‘Are there any more of those cakes?’ asked Rowly.

  ‘No,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll go and see,’ said Ferris at the same instant. But Harry putting some question to him just then, he called to me, ‘Jacob, could you see if there are any cakes downstairs?’ so that I found myself manservant to Roger Rowly.

  I went down and discovered to my vexation that Becs had indeed made a second batch. She arranged them on a dish and gave it to me, brushing my hands with her own.

  ‘I’m not taking them up,’ I barked at her. ‘You do it.’

  She blinked at me, fearful lest her little game of fingers should have given offence. I had never before shouted at her. I shoved the dish into her hands and saw them quiver; she curtsied before silently mounting the stairs. I followed, cursing myself for being as great a brute as Rowly would have me. It needed but the swearing to make me Sir Bastard.

  As she pushed the door open before us, the racket from the room poured into the stairwell. The babe was crying and its yells added to the hubbub, the little wretch seeming to sense we were getting nowhere. The company were all risen and were standing about, arguing. Becs edged her way to the table and put down the cakes. As she came back I shot her a contrite look but she received it coolly and upon going out, slammed the door.

  ‘O-ho! I see how it goes!’ It was Rowly; if he could see that, why couldn’t he see his danger and how much better he would have been away from me? But having gargled as much wine as he could at Ferris’s expense, he was more than half drunk. I turned and looked my contempt at him.

  ‘No good pulling that saint’s face to me, I saw you,’ he smirked, putting a whole cake in his mouth. His cheeks puffed out; he chewed noisily and sprayed out a few crumbs. ‘So she’s cruel to you, eh? Well, friend, she’s not so very bad neither; but if I’m any judge of women, you’ll be unlucky there.’

  I took a cake for myself. I knew I ought to go away, yet there was a fascination to me in his loathsomeness, and besides, he was so far wrong that as yet, he failed to exasperate. He could not touch me on any nerve about Becs while I knew myself desired.

  ‘You’re free to try your hand with her,’ I said airily.

  ‘Never trust a tailor with a woman. We tailors are a privileged breed—’

  ‘Tailors! I never heard—’

  ‘Most certainly. Few secrets a man can keep from his tailor!’ He drew closer to me and tapped the side of his nose, before continuing in a hiss, ‘We see it all, you know – who’s deformed, who’s poxed, who’s impotent—’

  ‘Charming privilege,’ I muttered.

  ‘Ah, but my dear Sir, consider. That means we know whose wives are most in need of comfort. Oh, yes!’ he exclaimed, evidently considering me put down and overawed, while I marvelled at the vanity of the man: Roger Rowly, the cure for greensickness!

  ‘And stranger things—’ he looked round furtively. This, had I but known, was my last chance to move away, but my evil angel whispered me to stay and hear it out.

  ‘When he was married,’ he jerked his head over at Ferris who stood at the far end of the room, ‘she wasn’t right, you know: she’d been tasted before she was bought, and who do you think it was—?’ He leered like a face reflected in a troubled pool.

  ‘Enjoying his wine, are you?’ I asked.

  ‘Hoity-toity! But listen, man—’

  ‘Not another word. Be warned—’

  ‘But listen! It’s a tale to warm a corpse!’ He was shouting now, his belly full of Ferris’s drink. ‘They lived opposite, and—’

  I threw him across the table. The room at once grew silent; the company froze. Rowly lay shaking among the spilt wine and crumbs, and I took hold of his thin, oily tresses the better to bang his head on the wood. I was calm, as in battle when a man is too tired to fear and everything happens slowly. Each time I cracked his skull down he shrieked with pain, and I then raised him up again to get a good strong slam. Spittle flew out of his mouth on the downward swing, and he tried to twist off my fingers as I pulled out tufts of his hair.

  ‘Jacob!’ Ferris was first to cry out. Shrieking almost as high as Rowly himself, he ran up and tried to pull my arm away by the elbow. I sent him flying into the glass front of the bookcase; I was defending his name, and later he would know it. Richard Parr came up on my other side, plucking at me and whining ‘This can’t be the way, pray have patience,’ until I stamped on him as a man would a worrisome terrier.

  A pain in my wrists bringing my attention to Rowly again, I found that he was clawing them, for which courtesy I brought my fist down and smashed in his nose. Elizabeth, who up till that time had been turned to a pillar of salt, ran to stand in the corner, clutching her babe to her neck; Jeremiah skipped about, his jaws working silently. I saw Rowly’s feet drumming in the plate of cakes, and heard Ferris scream out ‘Harry! Harry!’

  Turning to see w
hat Harry was doing, I found his face almost touching mine, his mouth open in a great O. Everything went red, then black.

  EIGHTEEN

  The Uses of a Map

  My father was going to punish me, for I had done something terrible, written some foulness in the Holy Book, and he had found it out. I started awake in a wash of sweat and at once shuddered in terror: this was not home. Then it came back to me, and my shame and dread were not put to flight but increased.

  I was lying on the black and white tiles, near the table. It was dusk. My head and shoulders ached; the shoulder muscles grated on my bones and one eye was sticky and would not open properly. There was firelight in the room and I rolled towards it. At once my heart stabbed violently, for there was a figure, silent and unmoving, in one of the fireside chairs. His head, seen in profile and lit by the flames, was held stiffly upright, the jaw set hard. I shook inwardly at the averted face.

  ‘Ferris—’

  ‘Harry laid you out. Before you killed someone.’ He was hoarse with bitterness. I tried to drag myself up off the tiles, to comfort him, and fell back groaning.

  ‘Are my ribs broken?’ I panted.

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Is this—’ I fingered my swollen face ‘—Harry’s work?’

  ‘Not all. Roger gave you plenty, once you were down.’

  I was shocked at the picture thus presented. ‘You didn’t help me, Ferris?’

  ‘Me? I was lying with glass in the back of my head.’

  I had forgotten smashing him into the bookcase. More shame came up over my soul, in foul, suffocating waves.

  ‘It was vile. I am vile, I know it now.’

  ‘You always know it after, Bad Angel.’

  My heart sank at the despair in his voice. I said with a sense of having nothing to offer, ‘Would I could undo it! I have my punishment: my head and chest are agony.’

  ‘Good,’ he said and I saw the word drip from an icicle. He rose to his feet; I tried to rise too, but gasped with pain and finished by kneeling doubled on the tiles.

  ‘My aunt is lying upstairs, crying,’ he said in that same toneless icy voice. ‘It’s the army all over again. Roger has left us, and Richard, most likely; even Harry is not sure now. Where will we find another blacksmith? I could beat you myself.’