Documente Academic
Documente Profesional
Documente Cultură
PHILIP MATTHEWS
10
DISGUST.
I said to Adam this morning:
Im searching for ordinary words that people are
afraid of.
He had been washed today (one in seven days,
including shaving his withered defeated chops), eyes oily
among the creases of dry skin.
Seth is screaming in the middle distance, on top of the
nearest knoll, among the elms. Enosh screams in harmony
with him. A true idiot, Enosh.
Disgust, Adam tells me now.
I tell him that disgust is not an ordinary word, like
train, cabbage, coelenterate. When I utter disgust
Adam spits up into the air, the gobbit landing on the
bedclothes down near where his balls should be.
The gobbit is viscous and laced with bright green
threads, thicker yellow cords of some other matter.
Ichor. Rotting like the carcass of a sheep the dogs feed
on, eyes bled white in the noonday sun.
Quick! I shout at my indulgent husband, wanting to
kick his thin flank: Give me another word!
Another word:
11
12
13
PORPHYRY
FIRE
DINNER
TREE
DISGUST
TRAIN
CABBAGE
COELENTERATE
ANGEL
BY ANALOGY
NUTS
CONCATENATION
TERRAPIN
NIGHT
RICH
WHITE
RAY
16
17
20
21
and not let them roam by the river, where the sheep winter.
He must be patient with the others, for they will come to him
hungry and leave him once fed.
And who can I persuade to do all the washing?
Washing needs vigour and a desire to purge. Mahaleleel is
the best for this, I think, he will be about the house all the
time keeping an eye on Adam. I will have to list out the cycle
of washing we use. Bedlinen on Monday because we spend
weekends in bed, doing goodness knows what at times.
Tuesday is for all the cleaning cloths and socks. Monday is
the only day any of the men do some work about the place.
Wash knickers, shirts and towels on Wednesday, a goodtempered day for dealing with sweat. Thursday by contrast is
a miserable day here, always raining and blowing, weekend
still far away. So we do the drapes, yellow muck from them,
and the carpets, a black muck here. Friday for silks and
woollens: anticipation makes the hands light and fast,
excellent for silks especially. You iron on Saturday and air on
Sunday, ready for Monday again, everything suddenly dirty
again.
The routine at the hole is relatively simple, though the
knack needed to beat clothes properly must be learned first.
Water will be bearable to your fingers this time of the year,
but be careful of the south rim, there are some very sharp
stones just under the surface there. Use the clotheslines in
rotation, starting north and working south, against the
prevailing wind. You may need help hoisting the carpets onto
the carpet rack, but in time you will develop a knack there
too.
28
surfaces, all the wood and leather furniture, all the windows,
brush all the drapes and dust the sculpture.
There should be no need for formality in the near
future so Methuselah neednt worry about the Dining Room
while Im away
Empty the buckets each morning first thing, and Ill
press on him that they must be disinfected thoroughly and
then dried before taking them back up.
Is that it? Will they last out till I get back?
Cainen can do the shepherding, as usual, standing on
top of a hill and waiting, waiting, careful even in the middle
of a bog.
30
33
37
43
44
music, and seeing that limit can see more deeply into the
nature of Enosh, of all my sons. In seeing this, I can see more
clearly into myself:
There is a bond among my sons from which I am
excluded, and which I have tried hard to destroy. I was not
aware of this until now. The bond of the father will always
elude me, having no father myself: Seth to Adam in fear,
Enosh to Seth in ignorance, Cainen to Enosh in resistance,
Mahaleleel the overbearing to Cainen, the absent, Jared to
Mahaleleel in defiance, Enoch to Jared in rebellion,
Methuselah to Enoch in superiority, Lamech to Methuselah in
obedience. My relation to my sons is two-fold, as mother and
as lover. I sustain them and love them: I bore them from their
fathers and bear their sons. But they think I curse them. They
believe the mother condemns the son to his relationship with
his father. A tool, whether for instruction or destruction
unclear sometimes. This is unfair. I tell each of them to watch
Adam closely, but instead they watch their fathers.
Adam is not a son. My sons should try to grasp this.
Adam is a man, but I am always a mother, except to one, for
whom I am a woman. To study Adam is to study man, not the
father, not the son. Adam trusted me once, loved once,
worked once, keeps his seed to himself. Me? I believed once,
and I still love.
I surprise myself. Its a big thing to say that I still love.
I do. I give service in memory of service given. A truth I was
shown, once. It appears in my loving: it appears in my lips,
only there. A kiss is a statement of truth all is revealed in a
47
kiss, as myths confirm. Yes, but that is not all. I was shown
something I recognised, and the result is this love.
What do I know of this love? Goodness. Goodness?
The possibility of goodness, an addition to our nature as a
revelation to us of an ability not otherwise evident. Does
Adam love? He trusts in a goodness once experienced. Yes. I
am an agent to him, in the first place selecting him, in the
second place offering him a place for his trust.
But here the curse interposes. Upon Adams trust and
upon the place for his trust.. I can see this now, see something
offered as a right.
Who offered me this? Not God. I know it was not God
because the curse follows on the offer.
It was offered to me.
Enosh of the bleeding arms, facing loss. How much I
saw in that, in his terror, bafflement, open pain, want. I said
to Enoch, who sat on the big sofa before the Window with
Mahaleleel,
Wipe Enoshs nose. At once.
It works sometimes but not now. Enosh seemed to
have stopped breathing, so we all steeled ourselves, always
worse than you can ever expect, until he releases his pent-up
breath in a shrill scream, when he runs from the Reception
shouting:
You dont understand! None of you ever does!
The familiar pattern. In some ways I was relieved. We
could handle this party. But given the special circumstances
of strangers coming, mother departing, you might have
48
Sulking as usual.
Cainen frowned a mighty frown, corrugating his brows
into thick deep cords, eyes buried in wrinkle after wrinkle of
tanned flesh, nose pinched until his nostrils gaped, lips
pressed flat and losing colour: you could see he hated his
sons untidiness, his coruscating feelings, a complete sucker
for anothers bait.
Cainen spat fully onto the floor no carpet, just as well
ground the mess with his boot, said:
Whats the fuss, then?
Methuselah answered him this time, leaning forward as
far as he could towards Cainen, intending courtesy but
appearing patronising, deaf thick peasant is slow witted, no
big words:
We are to have visitors, Cainen. From the city, it
seems.
Cainen considers this news, looking into the palm of
his free hand, a habit of his when he wants to think something
through. He glanced up at me then in that sharp direct way of
his. I think it came out of my preparations for the visitors
behind which as I realised at that moment lay my
preparations for going down to the city, to meet the man who
knows what ails Adam but I wondered what Cainen saw
when he looked at me in that way, what truth he believes he
finds there. My heart jumps now in sympathy with my hearts
leap then, as it always does when Cainen looks at me directly.
I appear always to Cainen in his ignorance, something in me
he cannot comprehend. Cainens models of life are animals,
his dogs and sheep. He looks at me as if I were an animal, but
always sees more in me than animality. He wishes that more
50
for himself, to raise him above the curse he bears from his
father, Enosh, the idiot.
Cainen asks me: Who asked them to come?
I answered candidly: No one asked them to come
here. It was the truth but it did not explain why they were
coming, which I did not want Cainen to know about.
Cainen started and the crouched slightly, how I have
seen him prowl in the night out on the moors, guarding his
flocks. He obviously sensed danger. Enoch waved an arm
over his own head and pushed himself to his feet,
straightening himself as he faced Cainen across the room. He
even stuck his thumbs in his belt, something he rarely does
because usually waving at heaven, and said to Mahaleleel,
Shame on you, granddad, to hide Enoshs grief. And
you hide your own grief in that lie. Now he points at his
grandfather, who is staring up at Enoch with his mouth open:
You are the one who sulks, not Enosh, who like me and
Lamech knows his grief.
I was tempted to intervene then, I did not want their
wrath which they will direct at me to rise from their grief, too
easy a temptation. Even so, I certainly did not want them to
remember that Enoch had spoken of shame. We do not use
that word here. We hide shame, each of us locking this shame
away deep in us, I the most shamed, knowing better than
they. Poor Enoch says he knows his grief; but he has, like all
of them, forgotten his shame.
My immediate reaction when Enoch spoke was to
wonder why he used the word shame. I was struck by the
seriousness of this. Mahaleleels shame is for his father,
Cainen, that he deserted him out of fear of his own father.
51
But the barb could only have been intended for Cainen
himself, he was after all facing up to him, the first time it has
happened in years.
When Cainen prowls he prowls for the wolf, the lion,
the snake, he the ram of all rams protecting his flock of
sheep. Now he turned in the room, looking away from me,
his eyes flaring in the light, and straightened when he saw
Enoch, his left hand opening and extending to full extent.
Cainen hadnt heard a word of what Enoch said, but he had
grasped the tone of his voice, the arrogance and posturing,
the pedantry even if true, the tone of judgement. In doing
this, Cainen not only understood Enoch, but also realised that
in Enoch was that more he witnesses in me. More than the
animal, if you remember. It was for this reason that he fell in
awe of Enoch at that moment, because Enochs judgement
seemed to him in his rustic innocence to be divine. For
Enochs judgement to have stopped him in a way that no
animal could, to distract him from his guardianship, meant
that it was more powerful than all life, because such a tone
could determine all life, telling life what to do and what not
to do.
To see Cainen yield like this, to see him step forward
with his splayed hand rising in front of him, and to see
Enochs certainty in what he said, the truth he believed was
there, and Methuselah pulling himself up out of his armchair,
the drink in his glass sloshing he drinks very little saying
in his most knowledgeable way:
52
57
the living in us, the shadow across our being, the curse on us
a barrier, a mist, a misdirection. No surprise then that like the
living, we prey upon each other, like fire consuming that
which sustains it.
This is our Battlefield. Traduced, my sons hide their
shame in grief, and then hide their grief in a false rationality.
Cursed in their capacity to love, they lose trust in their
capacity to understand. Hence, as the motive of love becomes
possession, the knowledge they gain becomes an enclosure,
the instant of bliss hidden to memory by a word.
But what has been lost in love reappears in fantasy, and
what has been hidden in distrust reappears in the threat of
dissolution though the price is a terrible knowledge of error,
foolishness, weakness, like the admission of sin.
Cainen was the outsider, careful until he loses patience.
Enoch was the Guardian of the House, as Cainen guards our
flocks, and he took it upon himself to head off a possible
flashpoint, if Enosh should come in a state, as he usually
does, and if Cainen should see his father in that state, who
knows where Cainen might stop. He stomped across the room
to Lamech at the window and told him to sing the old song if
he must sing something.
Methuselah replied tartly, shrugging his right shoulder
at Enoch, Cant you sing it?
Enoch couldnt, nor as it turned out could any of us.
Always that C sharp, tiptoeing in, darkness coming.
Lamech continued singing through all this, more than a
hint of desperation in his voice now. He was trapped in the
broken interval, as though perpetually repairing a breaking
59
with his usual yelp and Enoch bends in the face of the
fracture he perceives, the sin in the room: each feeling
differently, ignorant of the feelings of others, lost in a
phantasy of ones own feelings.
A terrible sin, he cries out, head bowed low in
abasement: A truly terrible sin, said the Lord to me when I
was in heaven with Him. A blindness like no other, the Lord
said to me, an ignorant blindness.
Even then I thought it was beautifully put, an ignorant
blindness. Yet, as Methuselah immediately asked, How can
you know that?
Enoch straightened up, theatrically though not
intended, and looked about at us all, Lamech asleep, Cainen
dozing, Methuselah anxious for his father, Mahaleleel
seething, Enosh desolate. Speaking, he brayed, his throat
thrumming in a weirdly alarming way, as though something
vital would escape, saying, Desire outstrips us.
Enoch was brilliant that night, in his element at last, a
true prophet of doom. Even Mahaleleel was obliged to think
of what Enoch said, though Enosh bowed before the tone of
Enochs voice. Into this pensive silence entered the voice of
Seth:
On the contrary, brother-in-mother, you must see that
desire cannot live before us. The image I propose for now is
that of the plant, that must grow before it can flower, must
flower before seeding, must seed before growth. Splendidly
dressed for once, showing off his fair locks to good effect,
Seth turned in the doorway and bowed towards me, As
usual, mother-of-us-all, you look a treat. How you achieve it
64
eludes me and all those I know and talk to. He gives his
hand to the overjoyed Enosh, nods companionably to his
grandson, Cainen, asks: The swarth heath for courting
strangers? To which Cainen replies, much relieved it would
seem from the tone of his voice, In your face, gaffer. Cainen
is dark, so fair Seth is radiant to him. But it does bring us to
the visitors, at last.
65
73
is little once he had filled his long forms in, knees tucked up
in his tent on the first night out. I could hear a mountain
stream somewhere off to the left, then came the call of a night
bird I didnt know, very sweet and poignant. Thats when I
cried first. Foolishness, mostly, already in a strange world,
never to go home again. Yet the singing was nonetheless
beautiful, repeated many times, melodious in a way I had
never heard, a bird that mimics songs.
I cry again now, a tenderness not above the suspicion
of indulgence. It warms me to cry now, so I can hear those
songs again and take again the nerve to reconsider that there
is no going back ever. And I do mean ever. If we were to
return to heaven now, we would find a strange heaven and
find ourselves already changed beings. I cry for this, for some
reason I cannot grasp. If heaven is so close, then why do I
feel it is so remote from me? Crying makes writing this so
much easier. Difference. That is the word I have looked for.
In difference lies our gift and the curse it earned. Difference
appears to us in recognition, inspiration, opposition, desire,
and the curse lies on all these, not alone on opposition and
desire.
You see that the curse can be studied. Compare how
opposition and desire are cursed. You see that in us what
constitutes opposition, fear of other, and desire, reach for
other, are polar opposites. Yet you can discern what unites
opposition and desire, the other, both fear of and reach for the
other. If we did not reach we would not be afraid. You see
that desire engenders opposition, that the curse sits squarely
75
77
78
day talking, lying there looking at her move. Enosh will sleep
in her lap, like a child, and so she will be sister to Seth, who
listens to him. Enoch will go to Cainen, goodness knows
what they will find to do together, except try to impress one
another. Mahaleleel will love Lamech, who will wait for his
father all-atremble. No Jared.
So, Tubalcain and Jubal, who is a musician. A
coincidence, I doubt. Tubalcain comes to me as Cainen did,
for a chat and a cuddle. The cuddles are wonderful, so exact,
but conversation is a tissue of evasion. With Cainen I shared
a world, but Tubalcain and I have no world to share, as
though he was an abyss. His touch is like steel, embrace of
iron, copperfastened mind. I mean here not confinement but
control, a mind for ideas, not for things. Instead, he touches
things, which makes him an attentive lover, always coming
but not always staying. I know this is not fully clear. I see
that I am confusing Tubalcains attention with my
expectation of this attention. A lover who could stay. Not
bad. A rhythm in it, even so, Tubalcain certainly dances
attention on me, stimulating in public, encouraging me to
look well and think well of myself. I wear tighter clothes for
him, let him see my figure. How he purses his lips, and often,
tasting me. My hair hangs long now, the perfumes a novelty,
clothes lighter down here, belts slender and slightly cutting,
but only slightly it is as though clothes embraced me here,
touching to remind me of their presence. You see control
here, of course, and that is true, but the body must be strictly
defined in the city in order to avoid serious injury. I can also
expose myself, something I would not have thought of doing
before. I find I can expose any part of my body, but not
82
and off for the last three hours, and it was now due for
assessment. I didnt appreciate this circumstance, of course,
and my joy in seeing a familiar face from the house I stayed
in caused me to press forward to him. He seemed surprised
by my enthusiasm, but he slowly smiled and said,
indulgently, You first? Then go ahead now, darling.
I blurted my words out rather than spoke them, his
response showing my confusion. They confused me, it was
not that I confused them. Now I was in a strange world
indeed. The habit of controlling the lives of my family had
made me forgetful of what being controlled is like. To
overcome my confusion I knew at once that I must let Jubal
and Zillah and Tubalcain, and all these others I meet here,
lead my actions. But the words came out anyway, even as I
realised how in error I was, in my own way blind in this city
too:
My dear Jubal, how will I ever hear your music amid
all this din!
For the first time I saw interest kindle in his eyes, one
of the few times he ever looked at anything. Wonderment
then, and a great relief rolls over him, see his features change
there and then, a momentary appeal, like a child reaching up,
and he said, glancing on behind me:
Music is energy first, madame, and you feel its pulse
before you hear its tone. Ah, my father-brother, in a mockjovial voice, not your cup of tea, Im afraid. Exigencies of
the working, as it were.
Tubalcain was wringing his hands in a grovelling way,
which I had never seen before, and he stuttered at times:
93
music. It makes her apprehensive. Then there is my brothergrandfather, Mehujael, who was dried up and now has his
fancy tickled by my music. And then there is of course the
run-in, Gods own bitch, Zillah of the spindle-shanks, on her
back all the time. You have made her into a clinging child,
for which I thank you.
Coming away from Tubalcains side, Zillah
approached us directly, but glared at Jubal, looking him up
and down, and said spitefully, A daughter is never a child, as
you well know. How young, eh? When did you take her from
her father?
Jubal reared up before her and Zillah grabbed my free
hand and pulled me towards her. But Jobal shouted:
Shes not afraid of her father. Shes afraid of her
mother.
Now Jubal gaped. Afraid of her mother? He turned
again to find his mother in the crowd, seeing her shivering.
He whispered, Jealousy.
Zillah trumped even this by saying, And see her son
groping her broad thighs. And Jubal looked down at my
hand in his, so I said, Jobal, not you, sweetheart.
Zillah let my hand go, said to Jubal:
Go now. On the beat, and grabbed Jubals elegant
shoulder and pushed him head first into my lap. Even
scrambling back could constitute groping, as my skirt rode
up, the fabric flattened between my open thighs, the silk ran
under his fingers. It was a technical victory for Zillah: the
growing heat in his hands horrified Jubal, so that I was
obliged to support him until he found his feet again and could
stand on his own.
95
96
98
death of the plant, that power that can stop I spoke of before,
while still at Home. This power is not itself the curse, but it is
by means of this power, by misdirection, that a being laid a
curse on us, like a twist in a weaving, an all-pervading
detuned principle of that power, of no meaning to the power
itself. So that, while the things living in the universe, plants,
animals, stars, must be born and die, rising always out of its
own kind specifically only to fall down again, a wave if you
like but always alternation, up, down, falling, rising, in us
human beings this power now flows, redirected there as a
curse. The first effect of that power is to move us in
vivification. That is love. In moving, we fear the loss of what
is here now, which is true: we always lose the present. The
after-effect of this power is, as anyone who has loved knows,
a kind of death, that which was given was lost and what was
received was also lost. One death is enough for truth.]
Ive put the last sentence in inverted commas because I
dont fully understand all of its import.
Seeing me dumbfounded, Jubal explained, very
succinctly:
Lamech in his greed has fathered three sons and one
daughter. First with Adah he made two sons, one for Adah
and the other for Zillah, who then languished alone, so there
would be full utilisation of available resources. But greed got
the better of him again here, and he must needs utilise that
resource himself. Already I am supernumerary, as you can
see. Then with her he makes a son, not entirely to his wishes,
for he must needs then make two daughters. But Zillah issues
Naamah alone.
101
102
We dont know.
Very bad this time. Very sick. Hours of wretched
spasms, muscles out like ropes. I feel as though I have given
birth to a monstrosity. But I also feel very peaceful within,
obviously a happy memory somewhere in all this. For Jubal
to say that they dont know who Zillahs mother is creates a
kind of hole for me in this city, something that cannot fit in.
To see me go like that a second time stunned Jubal.
Tubalcain and Zillah helped him, and later Adah came, I can
remember her standing to one side as they tended to me. That
Jubal stayed speaks volumes on his behalf, showing that he
values loyalty. Adah seemed to swim where she was, partly
hidden by folds of the drapes that backed the set. A curious
insight that lingered long through the seemingly interminable
vomiting, and the certain knowledge that two swam there,
Adah and another, her phantom spirit, man perfected. Yet
Zillah thought she had come to spy on her and her son, so she
was very chastened, pretending to concern herself with me,
rough hands and impatience.
These were impressions only, as I lay ill, my concern
was with the cause of this attack, not with my audience. What
had impregnated me, that I would give birth to a monstrosity?
All a phantasy, I admit, but even phantasy conveys some
truth. And in my phantasy? Zillah creates jealousy in others
like you would pick a foothold in a face of rock. Zillah knows
about love. In this way Zillah breeds jealousy in me, I
unwilling to share the capacity to love. I admit this readily.
105
108
You cannot own truth. You can only follow it. There is
only one truth, just as there is only one solace, one grace, one
spirit. I see Zillahs love in this, too. I read that I want to beat
her, to chastise her, and an unhealthy flow in me, a motive.
Adah had been talking, saying something like obtain the
green by accepting the blue, about golfing, I think, or
history, when Zillah suddenly changed, one moment she is
sitting quietly, holding our hands, next she is raging around
my little room, bumping into tables and chairs, upsetting
lamps and slipping on the rugs. This had begun with her
barking at me, cutting across her daughter in a disgraceful
way,
Cope, dont mope, you say. Pah!
She rages because she hasnt got the words for this
stage. In some ways it was comical, loaded down with her
stones and bars of metal, disguised as a siren, dressed for bed,
she was contorting her face, lashing out with her arms, her
silken things more and more twisted about her. Then I saw
that it was just a tantrum, that her mother had taught her very
little, an ignorant mother I daresay, so I nipped over and
caught her smartly on the arm and said earnestly:
Youre making a show of yourself, Zillah.
Her face was so broken it was a sight, she not knowing
whether to go on crying or begin to smile.
Your jealousy, Eve.
I could not correct her use of my name, not in the city,
so I reacted to how she strutted her body at me, on the hips,
loose neck inviting, by striking her with my hand. I had
intended hitting the side of her head, near her insouciant
cheek, but just then I saw what I loved in her in that gaze and
109
taken most of the burden almost since the beginning, this has
an especial poignancy because she is hiding the extreme
pleasure and enjoyment she experiences with her men from
her mother, fearing her jealousy there most of all. She has
told me she consented to Lamech marrying Zillah because
what she learned from Mehujael her power over men
(perhaps her first contact with a man) would create chaos if
allowed to run free. Zillahs knowledge of men is extremely
limited, as you can appreciate, and they hope that her
experience of a shared, i.e. half dead, husband, will lull her
again.
Poor Zillah. Where Adah hides pleasure she shows the
underside of her love. She says: Its a matter of election.
The pride of love and its lonely wait. How Zillah loves, you
see, loving others because she loves one prior to all else, not
because she loves you or Naamah, or me. I am just a
reflection for her, valuable because the reflection is brighter
here, in me she sees something of her Hands of God, less of
her own abandonment.
Adah has heard this before, many times Id say, so she
begins to run on automatic, something like You think you
are so smart. That is, that your knowledge seems to be more
assured then mine. However, I intervened at this point by
slipping my free arm in behind hers and drawing her body in
against mine. You know I intimidate her she melted in my
arms, limp with real fright, and her pudgy in my embrace
while her mother ground against me like a bag of bones.
Who to chastise? And who indeed, because who stood
in the doorway, arms akimbo to block up the entrance
should anyone want to scurry away scot-free but the
111
could always blind yourself, old boy. For the sake of your
grave fault, I mean.
Lamech came forward again, and Adah pushed my arm
lightly, saying in a fussy voice: You go on up with the
children, darling. Everything is fine here, dont worry.
Lamech came very close and said, his spittle on my
face: Yes, but I can bury you, madame. Can you blind me?
What an invitation. However, I said I could not, that he
would have to hit me. Tubalcain and Adah agreed
immediately, Jobal cried because there would be violence
again, and Zillah walked around me and said to Lamech:
Youll hit me first, Bonzo. And Adah said after her, And
me, husband.
A tough fight, youll agree. What if Lamech had been
insane after all. We would have buried him instead. As it was
he acknowledged defeat at once, eased up considerably and
we had our sweet, coffee afterwards on the verandah, taking
the dusky air.
Jubal came down with a large box, which he laid out
on the lawn below. He came forward then and spoke
formally:
Ladies and gentlemen, pray your indulgence, Im sure,
but I have a small piece, which I hope you might enjoy. Its
provenance was recent. Mamma, you will remember. Adah
nodded and said to us, At dinner. He begged leave to
compose his piece. Jubal noddled. Thank you, mamma.
Now in every life there is a moment of particular pain. A
light comes and then it goes. This experience is atonement.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my Atonement.
122
129
136
148
Naamah?
That got Irad to his feet, fixing his clothes, eyes almost
malevolent: That tart! He balled his hand tightly, face
reddening with his rage: Nothing of Zillahs will ever come
in here! So I said at once, Tubalcain? This gave him pause.
Not into the Arena, Eve. Never. Methushael watches all the
time for that. I stood up, straightened my dress and
stockings, found my hat, and doing all this theatrically,
knowing that the pattern was already broken, not once but
twice. Jobal and Irad. Im taller than Irad, so I loomed over
him when I said: I am excluded because of him. He grasped
my left hand in a practised gentle way, as he would still the
joyous dread a virgin experiences, shook it very softly as he
spoke: No, Eve. Not because of that cur, but because you too
are a stranger, with no past that we know of, with crazed
visions and religious mania, the body of an alley cat, the
mind of a child, the perception of a god. He squeezed my
hand now, his warm dry skin pleasant on the cool moistness
of my own. You see, dear Eve, that you are too strange to us.
We are more frightened of you than we are of Naamah.
Where she is a slut, you are a slut. Where she is complaisant,
you are complaisant. But what is a chore to her seems to be a
way of life with you. Eve, if we are not careful, you could
destroy all of us.
I was very pleased that Irad acknowledged the breaks
in pattern and is doing something about it. But will Naamah
return? Why would she want to come back here, having got
out? Nonetheless, I could just about see a passage for me
here, a gate easily pushed open. In effect I am to live in the
Arena with the Big Men, new talent, but no one is to let on.
157
you say, my dear. She cut him shrilly: When have I ever
said that word, tell me that. She turned to me suddenly,
revealing a look of girlhood, turning to someone who is not
there, her father I intuit, because she reaches out as she turns.
She said with large eyes:
They never give me time to myself. She shrugged
suddenly, a solid thrill Id guess, and said: They expunge
strange blood. I saw that at once too: Zillah is of their own
blood, but not her daughter, who carries her share of his
phantom blood. They must be satisfied with the dilution now,
to bring Zillah in.
There is a larger thought in this new perspective. Who
must be satisfied with the dilution of blood? Irad and Adah
are ignorant of this policy. Tubalcain and Naamah are pureblooded, as are Zillah and Cain.
Who is the father of Tubalcain and Naamah? The
daughter already safely at Home, is that it then? No mystery
man in the wings, Zillahs Hands of God?
I broke pattern again. I said to Adah and Irad:
Tubalcain is what?
Adah threw Irad a glance, and he said amiably, looking
very tired now:
Tubalcain is a bad mistake, my dear. He sighed and
looked companionably as Adah. Isnt that right, my pet?
Chuffing her just under her left breast, obviously a habit of
his, feeling the weight as he did when young. She sat beside
him and dragged across another chair, inviting me to join
them, and Adah told me about the great passion of Cain, the
whole shameful story:
160
162
163
166
like the tree outside. I said to him, pointing to the chair beside
me,
You had better ambitions, hadnt you, Tubalcain? He
leaned his arms on his thighs, looking quite solid in this
crouch. He spoke with his more usual clarity:
Metals are principles anterior even to the crystal. They
cannot grow, they have to be made by a transformative
power. The mystery, Eve, is to discover what metals are for. I
mean, he added hastily, what they are in themselves, not for
us. As an example, take iron. We use iron for its strength, but
is that all it is in itself as iron, mere cohesion? On the matter
of sin, I said, as though in parenthesis, Iron bars. He thought
with pursed lips, then nodded and said:
Lead weighs. Tin is cheap. Gold is sticky. Silver is
soft. Copper burns. He looked at me appreciatively, How
apt you are, beloved. Invited, I completed:
Mercury coils.
Tubalcain smiled fondly, and said, I do like a good
wit.
Then it was coils and coils and I fell asleep in the
middle of it.
I awoke knowing I was in prison, Tubalcain guard
rather than lover: he prefers holding cold iron, dirty lead,
sharp tin, clinging gold, evasive silver, dying mercury. How
long will I be isolated this time, I wonder. It will certainly be
more boring. I am revolted by a quality in Tubalcain, a kind
of gloating, leering attitude that pervades all he does. He is
not a particularly attractive man, but he is built well, not
unhappy in that. A restriction, most likely, barred from his
mother from early on. Tubalcain is not an idiot, as you might
168
For ignorance?
He bent carefully and sat on a bankside seat, inviting
me to do likewise. He bent forward to look into the clear
pool, bracing his broad palms on the edge of his chair. No
smartness then. Fine. How do you do, Eve? My name is
Enoch. I am Cains son by the abominated Adah, bearing her
accursed blood in its plenty. He paused and waited with
stony patience, studying the seamless liquid at his feet.
It is true that they breed out Adahs tainted blood. But
why? Why deny Zillah for so long? I remembered then, so I
said: Still no daughter, Enoch? He shrugged, and said
without malice, You too, I believe, Eve. I relaxed then,
seeing the possibility of truth without bitterness, like a sea
without salt, life without pain. I said, not complacently but to
jeer him up:
Mothers enough, yes?
He gave a huge sigh, looking in his grey suit and drab
tie like a worn rock, no virtue in endurance: You think so,
Eve? Let me tell you that long ago Zillah once said to me,
Come when youre ready, sugar. Such a need in her voice,
then, I can tell you. Perhaps she was only learning what the
score was. Her exclusion, I mean. He said something else,
but he seemed to garble it rather hurriedly, as if having
second thoughts. But liars always say too much: truth is
simple, adding truth is always an excess. Where is this case
lay the extra? Exclusion. Definitely this word. I said to
Enoch, finding it hard to feel sympathy for him, a cop-out
should be its own reward: In or out, what difference when
its not your game? The word sugar to me an odd epithet
for Enoch, who said then: Desperation is not quite a hunger,
173
her hair then. I had not realised how intimate that experience
is, both of us in a glow of light as though hair can radiate. But
I realised also that some kind of capitulation was afoot, hair
brushing an opening preliminary. Our conversation was light,
about clothes and colour, children. Only once did Adah speak
to me, and then with surprising authority, though friendly
here, saying as I made the first tentative brushing through her
long hair,
Of course, with children you must always insist on
right manners. Hands, especially, must be taught reserve. The
mark is in the hand. The secret is in the hand, you see, Eve,
because only the hand has the right power. Then more
homely gobbly-gook, until later, taking a sup before dinner,
she said:
Putting it in the hands of God that way. No, up, for
heavens sake, up, up!
I was still shocked from the attack, horribly fragile and
ready for a quiet night, but this piece of childish tattle thrust
me off as a tangent, and I wondered then why I assumed that
Zillahs mystery man was the same as my mystery being.
It was only then, as Enoch predicted, that I saw the
edge of the game. A real man was Zillahs lover, and Adahs
father. No one here is expecting that man to return. A genuine
puzzle here. How can they be so sure that this man will never
return? How could they make a man do that, I mean, go away
and never come back? The word jumped into my mind:
Cain.
And Zillah? This particular scenario has the amiable
quality of being interesting in itself. Two men, one woman.
Too few men, too high expectations, the woman runs away,
176
on now, Enoch. You are among adults here. You will have to
recognise that you are no longer playing a game.
Irad said, Elaborating which, I presume, we should
then admit to our ignorance and immaturity, He slapped the
table peremptorily with the joined fingers of his right hand
and said, Right, then. Admitted. He looked at me with a
bright tense smile, rows of teeth glistening: What now, smart
lady? Want to play momma here too. Bucolic ease. Oh, dont
think we dont know. Frolicking with your sons one and all.
Enoch coughed warningly, but Irad turned on him instead and
said: I accuse her of frolicking, of taking pleasure and so
contaminating a duty.
I said: No blood sport.
That stopped one line of attack, but the charge of
licentiousness hung over the table still, Enoch ready to lick
sugar on his mothers body, Irad to claim Methushael again,
Mehujael as usual left to his draught pieces, black and white,
endless struggle of his own invention.
I said to Methushael: The crime of necessity indicates
justice, not the punishment. A matter of origins, of where to
start, sonny boy.
This brightened him up a bit, as I expected, so I pushed
on at Enoch again, their weak link, though I had believed
before then that it was Methushael:
Why the piety, big boy? What are we side-stepping,
eh?
Irad said sharply, beginning his attempt to master me:
Encourage devotion, achieve regularity. This was
deliberately off the point, so I was forced for a while to
divide my attention between the two, daunting perhaps if
182
was not temptation, and the curse that followed on it, that
caused my nausea:
Whats the problem, then?
Adah reacted first, and strongly. She had some kind of
thick liquid in her mouth, a pallid sherry in colour, and she
spattered the entire table with the stuff, her eyes trying to
express how she felt in lieu of words. She looked as though
she was falling, as though sinking down into a sea. Then she
was as if falling forward, a lurch forgotten in the terror of
falling that way, to have sight forced on her: You are such a
smart bitch, Eve. You think you are so different from us. But
youre just kidding yourself, girl. You havent lived yet.
It was this banal, even as she fell forward, her breasts
squashing into the mousse or whatever she had been eating,
but nonetheless the degradation of body was evident, seeing
herself as an animal, fit only for consuming, and calling me a
girl because she thinks I am innocent as yet, not a degraded
woman. Adah hiccupped and her kin tried to pull her back
from the table, fearing worse, but she raised her eyes to me,
the blue suddenly bright, and she said in a neutral tone,
imparting information as an aside: Here you pay first.
Mehujael caught my left wrist and shook it to attract
my attention, when he said: Our suffering is real. It rises in
us, no one gives us our pain. I was reassessing my concept
of the problem, as I called it, as rapidly as I could, parts of
earlier conversations returning, like rooms lighting up,
especially Mehujael himself saying, a curse and a freedom
preceding this curse. But is that all, Eve? I realised then that
they referred to a different temptation, one that is in their
bodies. What Adah means, Miss, Enoch said with a grating
184
189
190
and put his arms around my shoulders and lay his cheek
against my neck, whispering,
Wooden, love, beholding your charms. I expire in
your arms, to see you so unexpected. Spoiled? Spoiling more
likely, to be roasted before he goes off. Zillah doesnt know
whats good for her, as Adah observed, she having handreared Jubal to the task of talking Zillah down. I said, Ive
got a replacement team. You can stand down, Jubal. I
managed to get to Tubalcain before Zillah did, who was still
tailing Jubal in the hallway, and to whom I said: Back on
track, boy, OK? Shiftwork, but youll get used to it. I left
Zillah to work on Jobal.
Jubal is practical, which is a relief. There should be a
lot of organising to do, but it was hard to find things to
organise, if you see what I mean. I knew the city could resist,
if not stop me. Jobals memory was intermittent about the
journey. Naamah had driven out but Jobal had only followed
the tracks back. So I sent him to find the track for us, to hunt
the perimeter of the city, looking out for mountains in the
distance.
They were anxious days. I admit I allowed myself to be
diverted from some very serious considerations. I was aware
that light darkened for me, Jubal resistant, Zillah vague,
Tubalcain dumb. I can think of them now, to my relief, but
then I hungered for elixir on tap, dinner parties, vicious
chatter, half in love with decrepitude itself, like finally losing
all patience, and so all restraint, to be like an animal alone.
But to find ones own animality requires that you first
conceive of animality itself, for only then could you apply the
193
once she was not. I retorted, Since when has anything been
easy for you, Zillah? She came over and hugged me, a
curious lumpy experience, like meeting yourself, but when
did I last embrace a woman full frontal? She said, taking a
speck from the side of my nose with a long nail, Since you
came, Eve. Give them someone else to look at. I laughed to
see her old wit and I chucked her chin, feeling the hardness of
her bone there, a dark sensation, that made me wonder all
over again, about Hands of God and what he left her, an
overburdened daughter in place of his absence.
It made me think again of betrayal, but as ever it was
difficult to place the betrayal, how it occurs and who was
most damaged. I said, Mine will do more than look at you,
apple. Wait and see.
Zillah laughed again, Shift-work?
195
Zillah cried all that day and into the night. I kept her
company, though there was little I could do for her, letting
the boys in to play for a while, Tubalcain a bit stupid in the
face of his mothers tears, sitting with her hand in his.
That is how it was when Jobal came back with the
directions we should take. I was still fully convinced that I
was fulfilling a better task this way, seeing the good that
would come of it. I said to Zillah, snapping her out of her
tears, Load the car now, Zillah. Jobal will drive. She went at
once, tissue drying her face, sniffling, Tubalcain and Jobal in
train like lambs, and Jubal came over to me to say, Harmony
holds the balance between melody and rhythm. I would
prefer to make music, if I may. I looked at him closely,
seeing him utterly unchanged despite his recent drastic
experiences. He mistook my look for a gaze of enquiry, and
so continued: Song uses harmony to conquer rhythm, while
dance strives to imitate melody, harmony in the latter a
concern of instruments rather than of music. Only as song
does music find its way, hiding harmony so melody can be
alone for a while. I said then, nodding to him as though I had
only seen him now, that even Adah dotes on his music, who
hates him, You fire away, boy. Go big, OK?
We were no sooner in the car than Jobal wet himself,
and we all had to decamp again, clean him up and go
ourselves after all the fuss. Tubalcain said in the hall, his flies
already undone, his meaty hand rummaging in his pants,
Mammy says youve got gangs of kids, is that right? I left
him with a nod and went on. Zillah said to me, Look, dear.
Ive had time to consider.
197
198
202
206
212
too.
Are you shy, smallfry?
Hey hey out there!
You want to join us here?
Okay okay just sing along here
Right down on the line:
Hey! Hey! Altogether!
COME ON OVER TO MY PLACE!
I lost patience and told him to sit up to the table again.
He had taken all this perfectly seriously, as I cautioned
earlier, and seem settled to go on like this for ever. I decided
to break this pattern as soon as I perceived it, saying smartly:
Is your name Cain?
No supersensible knowledge, as you might fear, simple
deduction instead: he wasnt Hands of God, he wasnt in the
least more than a son, and he had news for me, I was sure.
I write in depletion, as you may have noticed, like an
interest used up, another in preparation, hopefully. Having
uttered his name, I felt a task completed, a curiosity satisfied,
an expectation disappointed.
This was Cain: Well, it sure aint Sam, maam! You
think that this is another role, like those of Seth and Enoch,
Lamech and Adah, that somewhere in there a real being will
step forward, a comforting bearer of the sad tidings, dont
you?
216
221
Lamech, and let yourself spread out. Then Lamech saw me,
and he said, staring at me with an undefinable expression,
between genuine hatred and an overpowering fascination,
between pinning up and pinning down, One seed gives you
five, zeros for ever. I said to him, before anyone else could
get in, One seed proves all seed, one life proves all lives,
buster. To Zillah I said, Sight of blood I leave you,
sweetest. And Mehujael said to Lamech,
No road without an ending, grandson. Youre on the
way already, you see, moving along with the rest of us. I
said on the tail of this, favouring Irad for his rationality, at
least, speaking loudly, Beguile your time here, Im sure, but
Enoch is of immediate concern to you, no?
Irad said promptly, Cain. We await his return,
gracious lady. And Lamech reacted by saying, And only his
return, you hear? I left the room at once and went upstairs.
The corridor leading to Cains room is in any case dark, so
that when I opened the door I went from dark to dark, and
stood inside this place I had been curious about it anyway
hearing Enoch saying,
as is to me, you hear, dad? If you thing I brung shame
on you, then I can only say that if the real fruit ever gets trout
then you will have a lot of exclaiming to do. Adah is stupid
now, daddy, but she was not always so stupid. She
remembers. I moved forward slowly towards his voice, then
a low light from a small pan, charcoal glowing, and I came to
see Enoch standing before his father, hands outstretched.
Cain sat on a hard-backed chair, a table beside, a bottle of
whisky and a glass at his elbow. As I watched he took the
glass up in hand and poured some of the liquid into his
224
had to risk. Cain reached into his pocket, then stepped over to
me and put a bar of chocolate in my hand. There, he said,
with a quick kindly expression, thats better than any old
drink. You just suck it now, sweetheart.
I sucked the chocolate as instructed. The coal
propagated a scent, as of a burnt oil on one hand, so acrid and
stinging, but otherwise also extremely delicate, like an
entrancement, coaching to stay. It cleared my head
wonderfully. I could hear the wind outside in the trees, call of
birds, Adah shouting again, Zillah crying. I said, Whatever
else, Cain, I am returning Home today.
Who would keep you? he replied at once, making me
suspect that this was another gambit: what is outside Cains
door now?
There was nothing to help me then, except what I have
gained already, so I said, A secret keeps me, Cain. Isnt that
right?
He shook his head, No. Not a secret, babe, only what
was divulged here. Like what you have learned here.
Cain had become menacing, but I counted on this
being a new role for him, a new strategy, purpose as yet
unknown to me. Candour was best, finding the appropriate
context somewhat difficult at first until I realised that the
partiality of the image would serve best. I said, the language I
used twisting in me, in my body, a giddy unease, gloomy,
You live a lie, Clive. Your lie, Earl. With your lie you
infect your whole family. Tell them what you did, Sid, and let
the devil take the hindmost.
I put the book back into the case they had made for it,
of the strongest steel, invisible hinges, bar lock. It was not
228
230
one of the other, but only in my mind. Not returning was the
obvious import of Adahs words for me, why bewailing
occurs. An almighty fear just then, sensing too late the danger
in Adah, a horrible obvious threat that I simply could not
focus. A disposition if you will.
Then it came to me in a very strange way. I saw that
Adah struggled endlessly to expunge an impurity, like a taint
in the blood of her children, a second son because she was
losing patience, not because she didnt know any better.
Second son was the obvious import here, the fault here
different, cupidity over duty.
Fine, I thought, still looking at Adah, both of us
appearing stupid to an onlooker I daresay, then I saw almost
simultaneously, first, that Adah was the daughter of the
Hands of God, of that seed, and second that duty was love
then, like a candle in the dark. Should I have cried then? I
still dont know for sure. But Adah was so different in so
many ways. She had cares and obsessions totally alien to me,
unimaginable pressure on her at all times. I could cry for
Zillah, feel her tremoring hands on my skin, trying to touch
her breasts to me, to give herself a sense of reality. You see?
Who would hold Zillah? Who could after Hands of God had
been over her?
But Adah was another matter. She hits those who cry
in her presence, afraid of tears though capable of crying even
so. It makes everything so trying for her, her irritation a
constant source of arousal, lover after lover put aside in
depletion. The word here is distillation, an alchemy of
blood, a process of purification, the man that which is
purified by the blood of the woman.
232
236
242
for those who wait, for those too small, for those too lazy.
Look at them, Eve, arent they irresistible?
I looked down at her, a bit stunned again by crossed
lines, and said, Depends. But its a no-win scenario your
way.
Methushael ran into the room. He was gazing at me
ardently so he didnt see Zillah at first. When he did he
asked:
Werent you told before not to bare your bosom,
Zillah? You know its vulgar.
She turned abruptly and spat at him:
It was good enough for him, pumpkin. Long before
your time. So suck on it.
Methushael leapt forward, but my slap to his ear sent
him off on a tangent, continuing until he fell across an
armchair. In response to the commotion, little Lamech ran in
and said to the sprawled Methushael:
Push, dcor must be seen not tamed.
Whos talking abut decorum here, I wondered. I said to
Zillah, Stitch yourself back in, poppett, and lets go eat with
the boys.
Breakfast was pretty well over by the time we got
there, only Mahaleleel at the table, loitering over a last cup of
tea, looking particularly obstinate today, a respite before
cleaning up. We sat down to a large meal, I hungry after my
walk, Zillah too excited to notice anyway.
Methuselah came out from the Garden and asked me,
Will the quest require a balloon mama? I stared at
Methuselah, and asked him to repeat himself, this time to see
if he could sustain that mincing tone: Will the best require a
248
tantaroom? I was ready to spring up and twist his ear for his
nonsense before our visitor, making a show of us again, when
Zillah caught my shoulder and said, nodding sympathetically
towards Methuselah:
Hes only shy, dear. Give him a chance to get a hold
of himself.
I show scepticism, with the merest hint of amusement
to betray myself, as it were, and say: He only wants to muck
around, Trixie. Youre in for more than that now, dreamboat.
Wait for Mister Right is my word for you.
Zillah wiped her hanging breasts with a tissue and said,
looking over at Methuselah, But hes interested, my dear.
Nothing beats interest, my dear. Something for nothing, I
always say.
So I said to Methuselah, glancing to see if Mahaleleel
was listening:
In for a pogo in for a shuttlecock, champion on your
heliotropic embrasure now, loud-ringing three blind mice.
Methuselah pointed at Zillah and asked,
Embolismically, now?
I spun my finger in the air: Over and out, scout.
Over another cup of coffee I said to Mahaleleel, who
worked with a will cleaning the ovens,
An investment. Can we afford it?
Mahaleleel continued scrubbing as he reported in a
loud voice: Nothing withheld. Nothing taken. I think I was
right to worry about Zillah and Methushael squabbling. A
distraction here, baring a breast, as you may have guessed.
And yet a signal, Im sure of it remember: Good enough for
him, Hands of God. But not the obvious.
249
250
251
256
enough boys are set out to bear the strain. She drinks heartily,
eyes and skin very bright thanks to the alcohol and general
heat, liquid running on her cherry lips all the time. Zillah is
watching Enoch manhandle Methuselah, cursing him from
heaven for his relapse. I say to her now,
A frisk with you, scrumptious, raising my glass to
her. She drank in response, then said A dikes response is
always to hold back, sugar.
Looking for favour, Clothilde?
Favoured once.
This could have gone on all day, except that Jubal
came back on air and said to Seth,
Scrimshawing as praying about the stern, joy knows.
He looked at his greasy plate and sighed, slid to the floor
under the table. Enoch was already scrambling down from
the other side. I say to Seth to console him,
Mother goosed is another ganders, ol.
Zillah says, suddenly back too:
I dont know, Eve old girl, but I cant take this
daytime drinking at all. Reminds me too much of home. If
you dont mind, dear, Ill just go and have a snooze. Hold the
farce till then, children.
I say to Naamah, Cuddle a whale, would you,
princess. Merciless discomfort in that, they say.
Let me pray, he said to me, Gammer, and well rise up
together into a flatter bray. Naamah was picking bacon from
between her teeth, fingers gleaming, perfect nails
momentarily useful, as she spoke.
262
rainbow stood to the north above the tree, and that angels not
clouds drifted in that sky.
I was astonished to hear my memory recounted so
vividly. Does everyone dream that dream? I wondered then,
but I remarked to Zillah,
What else, dear? What else would a mother dream I
stopped the sentence, caught in a mesh of contradictions.
What a mother might dream for her daughter, but I have no
daughter, so how could I have this dream? I continued hastily
except a phantasy of her life. I hoped I had escaped by
means of the word phantasy, but no, Zillah says acutely:
No. She lamented the loss of memory, Eve.
You remember, Zillah?
Not till I saw your Garden, Eve. She watched me,
seeing my mind in my face, and then reached a weighed hand
to catch my right wrist, shook it gently to calm me and said,
No. I do not know who my mother is, Eve. Cain will not tell
me, if he even remembers now.
I caught the hand that embraced my wrist and squeezed
it, feeling the stones cut into my palm, and said slowly to
mask my urgency:
You must remember some circumstance, surely, my
dear?
Zillah tilted her head back, as though breaking a spell
and said with a false cheer,
Oh loads of circumstance, as you call it, Eve. Plenty
of that, I can tell you, my dear. Only one other man in the
place and my father had to go and ruin it for me. She began
crying a very fresh painful cry, her face twisted in real pain as
268
red mass of tears what kind of hands a man like that has,
do you? Such a will for doing something once and for all.
Zillah calmed somewhat and borrowed my
handkerchief to mop her face, her lovely eyes like flowers in
a livid stream, jewels in fire, souls in torment. She gave
another great snuff up her nose and continued:
A girl is only the first hurdle, more an obstacle then a
test, but setting the track for the rest. To taunt a young man
with Hey, what do you know, boy? is to invite his anger,
and so test him for what he does know, the strength of his
conviction, the exactitude of memory. A boundary condition,
where another seeks what one has found. What happens when
one man finds another.
Suddenly she stopped talking, and stood up, saying,
But I really must go now and dress for dinner, my dear. It
was a dreadful time but it is over now.
I stood up and said at her back,
But, Zillah, what if he came back to you?
There was absolutely no expression on her face when
she looked back. I wondered if she had even heard me. I
popped into Mahaleleel on the way upstairs and asked him
how things were going. The food smelled heavenly, and I
picked up some pieces of fruit in spite of Mahaleleels
frowns, but watched Lamech closely while his eyes were
turned.
Methushael, Naamah, Lamech, Zillah, Jubal, Adah.
Descending. I nodded, Enoch doing some good work,
hopefully not too demanding, no one to watch Enoch as
usual. So I asked him, Jubal?
270
Ballroom.
Lamech inserted suddenly, rearing up, Wanking again,
I bet. Dirty little fellow, that.
Mahaleleels dishcloth caught him across the chops,
shutting his mouth good.
In the Hall I wondered if I should run up and change
again, as though Zillahs tears had stained my gown. I
decided we were already launched and went out through the
Garden to the Ballroom.
I was surprised to find that everything there was still
closed and dark. I called out:
Jubal!
His little cry came from the other arm of the room, out
of range of vision anyway. I didnt fancy looking for him, for
fear of dirtying my clothes, so I called to him:
Come here to me, at once, Jubal.
His cry came back: Cant!
Whyever not, Jubal?
Again his little cry, losing power as he lost interest:
Im undergoing conversion, dear Lady.
I laughed out, In the dark?
He didnt answer. My thought was: that frees Enosh.
This, I thought, might tip the balance. I found him out sitting
in the Yard, trying not to look at the sun, a large evening sun.
I said to him: Godborming alley. On. We went around the
House in search until we discovered her in the Lounge,
Enoch a drunken heap in her lap, Methushael a drunken heap
on the floor, Adah toying away to her hearts content.
Disaster. No other word, then or now, whole game blown
away on that thick twit. Not a word out of him, trousers
271
back, and said to her: The blood is pure now, Adah. Your
task is completed. I thought of Adam then and searched for
some completion in him, but found none. That didnt trouble
me at the time, and saw only specific tasks facing Adah and
her mother, a superb strategy, exhibiting great patience and
tact, the merciful obliteration of Cains blood. I shelved the
question of why Adam had retired, and waited instead until
Adah said at last:
Am I saved, Eve?
I told you, no curse on you, except the curse we all
bear, Adah.
Adah smiled in relief: Then I can keep Enoch, can I?
I turned away, suddenly aware of something else, and
said to her, Yes, of course, dear. I always keep my promise.
By the time I got to the kitchen the other thing began to
become clear. The word was pace, a no-win situation,
conserve remaining forces. Music would serve well here, get
everyone into step. Then I think of Jared again, and lament
his absence, his music lacking the knowledge of Jubals best,
calling to an experience instead, the sharp cee a pin that
pricks touch, a thin thread across an abyss. I say abyss here
because I saw at that moment how things had already
changed. I said to Mahaleleel,
A good meal makes a table, Puck. But a bad meal
induces shame, Buck. The only way to prevent a rising is to
create a depression, yes? This is what you call politics: the
control of hunger. Here I try to control satiation, to curb
interrelationship, a torpor to cool any lust. I will make them
reluctant to come here again.
273
277
285
287
the bottle of very bad wine, reserved for the ignorant to save
waste, and went from glass to glass, saying, You must drink
all this up before you get another drop in my House. I filled
the glasses of Irad, Jobal, Mehujael, Enoch, sloshing the piss
to the brim of each glass, ruining old port, old brandy, and
peppery whisky.
Seth watched them while we fixed another round for
ourselves, doing the decent thing by Tubalcain, but leaving
him in the other line, if only for harmony.
Enoch spoke then, unforgivably gloating I know, but
this was a defensive action:
Hoping for the nipple, are you?
Soaking up your dribble, are you?
Fraid to cause a ripple, are you?
Sitting in your piddle, are you?
Cant hold your tipple, can you?
Seth obliged again, another tremendous chorus:
Pissheads all!
They drank the stuff, knowing full well what they were
drinking, because it was going to be a long hard night of it,
no women to hand. And they drank from the same glasses all
night, the stench of old resinous piss hanging over them.
They played Mehujael next, evasive action, who said
in his longwinded way:
291
296
297
Zillah caught his hand, her right to his left, pulling him
back, shouting, Whoa there, boy. The Queen might be dead
but I say every time, long live the Queen, sunshine and hail
afterwards.
Mahaleleel shouts, more frantic now, Mother! Oh for
goodness sake mother! Youre not listening to me are you?
You never listen to me, no matter what I say!
But Zillah kept hold of him, drew him back to her, as
though she was the permission for an attractor to come into
operation in him, that then impelled him towards her. Down,
down he went onto her knees, into her bony lap, unbelievably
warm for all that. A last strangled cry of Mamma! and
Mahaleleel was gone, a shapeless pile in her arms, her hands
communicating with him, telling him her awful news.
I knew Mahaleleel would be away for a time, Enoch
only needed quietening, not just then but shortly after when
his head of steam blew the safety valve. I was interested at
that point: Enoch had new experience to communicate to God
in his heaven, perhaps God might tell Enoch something new,
too. In the meantime, Seth opened for him by preparing the
stage, as it were:
Seths scenes whimsical: Yo!
Flimsy frolics frantic: Yo!
Trim sheets for his head: Yo!
Seven pigeons done in red: Yo!
Many omissions mantic: Yo!
Comical musical: Yo!
302
303
305
306
317
fine spring day, bless it with many toasts. Then Irad had to
say to Cainen, You up to it yet, boy? He moved his
forefinger suggestively, but I managed to leap in before it
went any further by exclaiming in my dizziest voice,
Sardines!
I distracted them long enough to move Cainen over to
talk to Tubalcain, while I set Seth to watch Irad, see that he
keeps his hands to himself. I wondered if Seth was even up to
it, missing my soldier Enoch now, but I could see no other
way to keep them apart. I saw that Enosh and Jobal were
comfortable in the company of Mehujael, whose son is
homosexual, while Enoch on the other side kept an eye on
him. Lamech sat on Zillahs knees in perfect contentment.
I know a contrary table when I see one, so I steeled
myself for this evening. But I felt someone lacking, to
balance for me, I mean, at the table, and thought of all who
were away tonight, Adah, Methuselah, Jubal, my Enoch with
Methushael, Naamah, and poor poor Jared, still absent when I
remember him. Who of them could counterbalance my three
queens, Mehujael, Zillah, and Irad? Who could stand beside
Enoch here on my left, who would stand on my right? Not
high magic as you might think, more like preparations for
war. I thought the situation serious, prey finely balancing
predator, but it was a roller, giving one way only. What
goodness could be offered to Zillah, or Mehujael, or Irad, but
gratification that consumes everything except itself?
Enoch perhaps. Enoch to Enoch. But also, when you
think of it, Naamah too, because it is all the same to her
anyway.
322
326
his hands lying across her thighs, but she jumped up again
with a little, slightly mad, laugh, as though she knew what
she dared.
If I say that Zillah was piteous, stark naked and all
bone and limp flesh, now, my pity was as much for her
obstinacy as for her desolation. I said to her in a soft voice:
Put something on, honey, otherwise they get used to
it.
The third act is about solutions, resolutions and such. I
could see no solution even though I knew perfectly well that
our masquerade would propose one, like a court in
deliberation, then judgement, always punishment. I was
thoroughly at Home now, even used to the new-found
function of the Ballroom.
Methuselah opened now, once Mahaleleel and the
other one refreshed the tables for us: he sang in his
intellectual tenor voice, as though his tongue pricked his
mouth:
The sun rises sweet at dawn
Water stirs leaves hang
The day commences with a bang
At once light colour and motion
Sailing alone oh sailing alone
All alone on a high blue sea
Laying about oh laying about
As steady as a yellow cheese
333
Talking talking
When the gangs here
We hit the beer
To each other
Singing singing
So lets sing a song
As we drink along
Together
All loving all loving.
The nausea was light, mainly I think because singing
as I was distracted me, a response to a sudden image and a
word in my ear. The image was uncanny, as though the sun
shone out of Cains face, not Cains doing but another power.
The word was ground, my utterance echoed clearly to me as
I sang gang. I said to Cain, Did God ever touch you?
It was the turn now of Cainen, who stood up for his
piece, grinding it out like a good peasant:
Speak of night then speak of silence too
Speak of who waits at the door of silence too
Think of the thread you hold think where it leads
Think of the place you inhabit now
Why a thread if you are not lost
Speak of drips then speak of stars too
The starry roads oh the starry roads
So many rights on so many ways
335
He replied immediately:
Darkness.
I shook my head wryly and left, none the wiser, after
all.
342
345
348
359
PART THREE
360
else would you find such an idea. The point for me was that
cessation was real in some way.
I fell asleep then, very tired after such a long day.
The thought is arcane and only written here to serve as
a clue, as it did for me, to understanding the reality of
cessation. I dont imply that cessation is like that alone
merely something beyond comprehension but also
indicating a kind of stopping, that is its reality. An ending
like autumn, spring never coming again, like the last word at
night, morning never coming again.
Like a divergence, yes, but also in its own way a unity;
diverted from here, but then where are you?
I dont know. I slept with that knowledge. I was
content, for once, believe me.
In the Hall, Naamah stopped me and said: Fat chance
a dance, gammer. Im going forward a bit to report this
exchange because it was only then that I caught a glimpse of
our new problem. I mean, what the problem meant to us. I
replied, in a rush and so irritable,
No rock to roll, honey, eh?
No meat to beat, mamma.
We arrived back early evening, which surprised me, I
had expected early dawn suns glare behind the mountain
peaks, instead a warm evening, steady gold sun. I was cranky
with the shock of the night, too much to absorb, impatient
with Enoch fiddling with the door and downright rude to
362
Cainen said to Naamah, back at the bar, his work done for the
moment:
A happy lap is cheap
Fill a seat till you eat.
Zillah tittered but Tubalcain cut across her to say:
If cheap leaps are in the air, Gloria, are chopped logs
for the fire, Ginger?
Naamah shook her head furiously, her hair racing out
in oily coils as she screamed theatrically. I sighed and
decided to go to see Adam. In the Hall Naamah caught me up
as I have described, and it was only on the word meat that I
remembered that Adam was now in his New Room, over half
of the universe available for his study. I said absently to
Naamah, turning around now to go to the Main Reception,
We brought Adam down the other day, didnt we?
She followed me into the Main Reception, Enoch
rising at our entry, Adah simply staring, as in a trance,
speaking as though fascinated:
You two are the spitting image, do you know that?
Enoch turned stiffly to survey us, glancing back at
Adah from time to time before saying:
Your incarnate no doubt, my dear, but there will be
only one Eve, do you hear me?
Again I was delayed, my irritation mounting, a larger
dissatisfaction looming, like a desire for rest from
strangeness, so I said to him ambiguously:
Ill always remain, bank on it boy.
365
I saw him once like the noonday sun. She kissed Cain
on the lips, patting his shoulder to calm him as she did.
He said, Shes put you up to this!
I said, drawling, enjoying his discomfiture:
No one cares but Naamah. My, arent you a lucky boy
after all, Cain.
Methuselah came trotting by, shouting out in a forced
hilarity, One two three, all the same to me.
Cain said, looking after Methuselah, Is that boy mad?
Tubalcain called over from the door to the Lounge:
Not from the Perspective, Nuncle. Anything is all, you
know, sweet fucking anything is all. To me he said, Without
you to mutter then utter dust. I wondered why he was so
maudlin. I went over to him, catching his arm in against my
breast:
Lets dress for dinner, Skinner.
He replied calmly, an index of his foolish trust: So
spoon a tune, sugar, lets.
Tubalcains mood did not lift but once I saw that he
was dealing with a problem, not a dissatisfaction with
himself, I let him be. Later, over dinner, Adah said to him,
grease mingling with her tears now:
If a plume sticks out, what does a spume do,
Tubularcock?
He laughed, first time for ages, and said, recovering
some of his usual good humour, Spume flicks quick, dont
you think? Even so, he gradually settled into a quieter mood,
more than a hint of impatience in it.
But earlier, during the main course, Enoch had said
across to Tubalcain, You cant beat bars for fun, you know,
367
pity for him, seeing the limit of his sight, unheeding, his
touch restricted to metal: Better than beating the meat,
surely?
Naamah, in a spin because of Cain, an abandon in her
now she has found what she believes she was looking for:
When love commands all might?
I said, firmly, as I suppose how a mother would speak
to her daughter, So long as you know where you are going,
sweetheart.
Adah snorted, a depressing rattle, and shouted over to
Zillah,
Wednesdays blues on Monday!
Lamech said, Slops on Sunday?
Then the dread came, suddenly like a net dropping
over everything, like a shadow, a strange darkness. The
world seemed to slow down as it darkened. This was my first
intimation of what I have come to know as boredom. I could
not fight it at once, lulled by its comfort, but soon a rage rose
in me, like a trapped animal would, and I said to Enoch
beside me,
Not much fun in this one anyway, Cobber, is it?
Enoch was suddenly quite serious, for once, and he
shook his head sagely and replied:
No, not this one, mother. The next one is better,
believe me, mother.
Then he started shouting again, as usual, arms
extended to include everyone in his audience:
This one rots this one weeps
369
the table, should you think that, but simply another stage of
the evening, now that all the food had gone we had nothing
else to do but drink.
Naamah didnt interfere this time, so Seth ran about
pouring drinks for us as we settled down in groups for a chat
and a natter. There was the Top Table, which always appears
at our gatherings, despite all our efforts to prevent it. That
night, though, we formed groups as though a masque
rehearsed, Tubalcain and I with Naamah and Cain up near the
bar, Zillah with Enoch, Cainen and Lamech at the middle
table, and Enoch and Enosh stuck around the far table waiting
patiently for Seths attention.
Zillah said, provocatively, pulling her tight skirt further
up her thighs in order to relax,
Is it my turn next time?
Enoch leaned across the table to whisper shrilly, very
angry:
Who said theres a next time, rewinder?
Lamech, beside him, lisped in mockery:
Goose and gander is a wet time, reminder?
Naamah contributed next, cutting in just as Cainen
opened his mouth in annoyance, saying with a merry laugh:
Was it ever any other way for you, mother dear?
Enoch shouted up, a drink in his hand at last,
Its everyones turn next time, gang!
Enosh at his side said, chortling at his own excellent
wit:
Everyones turn all the time, bang!
Tubalcain whispered to Naamah, Who would you
save, sister, since savings what youre set on? I turned at
376
happy blues; dogs like being dogs, most of them anyway. The
intelligent ones. I wonder why I repeat myself. What else
would a dog want to be?
A strange thought, both for the indirection of its source
as for the indirection of its import, and I let it prompt me to
say to him, not challenging Lamech yet:
What else would a god want to be?
Even so, he took this badly, whirling in his chair to
face me, staring until I turned to face him, when he
spluttered:
I dont impute bestiality. I do apologise, a metaphor
was intended, the promiscuity of dogs, no more, I assure you,
no bestiality, I swear on my grandmothers name.
Naamah interjected quietly, but obviously, to me
anyway, intent on pushing this through:
Then bow-wow, junior. Bow-wow now.
Zillah said, rubbing her hands with an ambiguous glee:
This I want to see, oh boy, oh boy!
Seth arrives just then, and we all decided to go again,
and in the general fuss and bother the promising
confrontation was avoided, at least, as it turned out, for a
little while anyway.
Enoch roused it all up again once we had started into
the new round, by jeering Cainen, the one most likely to fight
him:
When I put them down, greatgrandgaffer, they have to
grow to get up again.
Cainen looked intently at Enoch, to judge his true
mood, then replied: What I put up stays up until its ready to
come down again, greatgrandson.
378
Enosh
said
aimlessly,
Fucking
tush,
greatgreatgrandson. There.
Lamech said, lolling in Enochs lap, gonads providing
greater warmth than hitherto recognised, Up your noodle
too, spot.
Cainen was strongly tempted to go for the weakest of
them, but he knew that the other two would gang up on him.
So he punched Enoch in the face, at the junction of brow and
temple, swung about and pulled Lamech out onto the floor.
Enosh went under the table, Cainen bent to deal with him,
Enoch pushed Cainen in the side. Cainen falls over under the
table, squirming in panic, banging his legs against the legs of
the table and chairs in the vicinity. Enochs sight cleared in
time to see Enoch push Cainen, so he marched over and
landed a huge haymaker to the side of his head, so that he
shot out of his chair and slid across the floor, bare boards
down there.
Tubalcain was engulfed in merriment at the sight of all
this, guffawing uncontrollably, and he managed to jerk out to
us three that
One sees solutions everywhere.
At this point Cainen got his feet under him again,
vengeful now, ready for mayhem. Enoch came up to him,
trip-hopping as he approached, ready for anything himself.
Cainens impulsiveness let him down at first, but his capacity
to sustain punishment allowed him to ride out the assaults
Enoch hurled down on him. Enochs weakness lay in his
blindness, he knew what to do but not where to do it. It was
only a question of time then, would Cainen succumb to pain
or would Enoch succumb to exhaustion?
379
and then wound the other end of the red silk thread around
the neck of Cainens cock. The ring pulled his semi-erect
organ down, a dismissive gesture to inflict on him.
But Naamah rumpled his sticky balls and said, rubbing
her fingers together before sniffing them, Carry this always,
Cainen of the sheepfold, in memory of me. Go in peace now,
back to your pasture, and as you go watch the gold ring
sparkle as it dances on the end of your tool, you fool.
Tubalcain sniffed Naamahs fingertips then and
commented:
Honest sweat, my dear. Cant fault that now, can
you?
You probably wonder by now what humiliation has to
do with salvation. I did not ponder that aspect at all, lulled by
the familiarity of the carnival atmosphere, but followed
instead Naamahs intention, more curious then about her true
objectives. Not a palace revolution, too many potential
supporters disabled. I looked for a secret plan, mapping
Naamah and Tubalcain, together for the first time, I believe,
from Zillah and her phantom lover, seeing at once of course
the burden of Enochs warning of danger. What if they have
strange blood, I wondered, thinking of my polynomial suitor.
Not the women alone does he stir up, men too, prodding them
with hot pins all the time. This sounds like a phantasy, but
consider how dissatisfaction spreads in a group, a drop in
morale, revolutionary metaphysics and new vision. How
Zillah bears distance as a kind of snobbery, the modesty of
her children the modesty of the father.
381
Get him by the throat, then by the goat, that it, Tina?
Adah ignored her, head bent to Methuselah, giggling as
she whispered loudly, Tar brush now, Meths. Both giggling
uproariously then. Naamah said to me, making what appeared
to be her play at last:
Refugees, yes?
The pathos was unmistakable, but harder then to judge
her sincerity. To recognise a refugee you have to be at home
somewhere yourself. Was something on offer here,
Polynomial coming into the open at last, perhaps. I was
sceptical. I could afford to be philosophical, everything
already lost or everything to gain, and watch the movement
of forces around me, love, curses, lies, mistakes, sincerity,
seeing how even he swam in this ocean of fault, greater
perception perhaps, but same exile. So I said parabolically,
Give excess to another, in measured force,
remember?
Tubalcain said, as though he had rehearsed this
conversation already, Mutuality implies exchange between
equals.
Zillah said, Im actually glad for the mummy, you
know. I think she genuinely likes Methuselah.
Naamah said: Give us what God will not give us,
please.
I pointed at Adah and Methuselah and said, Whats
keeping you, honey? Go for it!
Naamah spread her hands out before in real pathos:
But you must give us love first, dont you see. She balls her
hands suddenly and shook them in the air, shouting,
Why cant someone start me up too?
383
You wont believe this! You will not ever believe this!
But somethings happened to Adam!
No false hope left, I said to him, tilting my head to
look down at him, his frenzied features, clawing fingers,
twisting toes, What is it, Seth?
He caught my arm and started to pull me forward with
all the impulsiveness of a child, shouting hysterically, Now!
Youve got to see this for yourself, mammy! Please come!
Bring your friend if you like!
Tubalcain nodded to me his assent to this, being
gracious only. I walked a pace or two with Seth, then asked
in a moment of lull in him, What is it, Seth?
He turned to me, radiant with excitement, his little
even teeth glowing in his soft pink mouth, dribble on his chin
as usual,
Oh, A TREE! A TREE is growing out of daddy! Oh
look mummy! See how it is going up and up in the air! Isnt
that great? Isnt that absolutely marvellous, mommy?
I shook him quiet, pushed his hair over to one side and
said to him, in an even matey voice, See one seen them all.
Sorry.
Seth looked at Tubalcain with renewed hope, who said,
We have one at home, Im afraid.
Now Zillah arrived, absolutely stunned, saying over
and over, Getting bigger, getting bigger, and getting bigger.
She looked back at Adam and the tree growing out of his
mouth, and said in a confiding tone,
Glad I insisted on getting in early, Eve. I wouldnt be
able for that.
399
401
403
October 1995
404