still abroad, as if standing sentinel until St. Ives had gone away and the imaginary drawbridge could be hoisted and secured. The sliver of moon shone in the sky in the direction of the river.
“I can find my way home, Bill. You remain with Mother Laswell. She needs some comfort.”
“Aye, she’s in a state, sir, and has been since the news of Mary Eastman’s death this morning. As soon as she heard of the grave being dug up and the skull gone, she vowed to hunt Narbondo down. She brought him into the world, she said, and it was her bounden duty to take him out of it again and to put poor Edward to rest. She means to kill her own son, sir. I talked sense to her six to the dozen, but I don’t have the words to make her see, and I was hoping that with your help she would...” He fell silent now, as if he had overreached himself.
“I honor you for it, Bill. And I envy your faith in both of us. I’m convinced that she will abandon any idea of killing Narbondo. She’ll see things more clearly when the sun rises. Come round to meet Eddie and Cleo tomorrow. You’ll understand me better, perhaps. A man changes over the years. We’ve had some adventures, you and I, but for me that season has passed away, or nearly so.”
“Perhaps for the best, sir, if only you’re in the right of it. Here now, Ned!” He stepped down off the porch and put his hand on the mule’s neck. “Time for bed, old son.” He nodded to St. Ives, deep worry visible in his face, then turned Ned Ludd around and headed in the direction of the barn, the shadowy outline of which St. Ives could see beyond the now-dark palm house.
TEN
WHAT DUTY REQUIRES
A lice sat in front of the mirror pinning up her hair, capturing and imprisoning wayward locks that would apparently much rather remain at liberty. St. Ives watched her happily. It was a Saturday morning, and they meant to breakfast on the veranda and then do very little. Alice would no doubt spend some time with her begonias, the new rhizomes already putting out leaves. As for him, he meant to set his mind to the problem of the barn, perhaps sketch his plans out again now that the elephant had complicated things.
“But what do you believe you should do?” Alice asked, turning to St. Ives. “In your heart of hearts? What does Duty require?”
“What do I believe ? I believe that the entire business is nonsense. There’s nothing nonsensical about the tragedy, of course. I don’t mean that. Mother Laswell suffers a great deal of pain. But I don’t for a moment believe that I can effect a cure for human misery. Perhaps time will answer in that regard, or perhaps Bill Kraken will answer. He seems wholly dedicated to her. As for Narbondo’s anticipated depredations, you’ve said yourself that there’s such a thing as the police. I have no regard for the lunatic idea that a man might open a lane to the land of the dead in this fabulous manner, although I have a high regard, if ‘regard’ is quite the right word, for Narbondo’s capacity for evil. If I found him lurking hereabouts I’d be inclined to shoot him like a mad dog. But will I go out searching for him because I’m motivated by this wild notion of a gate to the afterlife? I will not.”
“You sound quite certain.”
“Never more so. I’m certain that Mother Laswell dearly wants her son’s skull returned to her. She tells the truth. But I’m not persuaded that it’s my business.”
“I’m happy to hear it. It puts my mind at ease, and it cheers me that I don’t have to beat you with a coal shovel. Poor Mother Laswell, though. I’ll pay a visit to the farm and introduce myself.”
St. Ives looked out the bedroom window, taking in the view. He could feel warmth through the glass. There was a tonic quality to the heat, a salutary tonic, and he found once again that he was quite happy. The children had indeed been asleep when he had returned last night, and the house quiet. Alice, however, had not been asleep, nor did
“I can find my way home, Bill. You remain with Mother Laswell. She needs some comfort.”
“Aye, she’s in a state, sir, and has been since the news of Mary Eastman’s death this morning. As soon as she heard of the grave being dug up and the skull gone, she vowed to hunt Narbondo down. She brought him into the world, she said, and it was her bounden duty to take him out of it again and to put poor Edward to rest. She means to kill her own son, sir. I talked sense to her six to the dozen, but I don’t have the words to make her see, and I was hoping that with your help she would...” He fell silent now, as if he had overreached himself.
“I honor you for it, Bill. And I envy your faith in both of us. I’m convinced that she will abandon any idea of killing Narbondo. She’ll see things more clearly when the sun rises. Come round to meet Eddie and Cleo tomorrow. You’ll understand me better, perhaps. A man changes over the years. We’ve had some adventures, you and I, but for me that season has passed away, or nearly so.”
“Perhaps for the best, sir, if only you’re in the right of it. Here now, Ned!” He stepped down off the porch and put his hand on the mule’s neck. “Time for bed, old son.” He nodded to St. Ives, deep worry visible in his face, then turned Ned Ludd around and headed in the direction of the barn, the shadowy outline of which St. Ives could see beyond the now-dark palm house.
TEN
WHAT DUTY REQUIRES
A lice sat in front of the mirror pinning up her hair, capturing and imprisoning wayward locks that would apparently much rather remain at liberty. St. Ives watched her happily. It was a Saturday morning, and they meant to breakfast on the veranda and then do very little. Alice would no doubt spend some time with her begonias, the new rhizomes already putting out leaves. As for him, he meant to set his mind to the problem of the barn, perhaps sketch his plans out again now that the elephant had complicated things.
“But what do you believe you should do?” Alice asked, turning to St. Ives. “In your heart of hearts? What does Duty require?”
“What do I believe ? I believe that the entire business is nonsense. There’s nothing nonsensical about the tragedy, of course. I don’t mean that. Mother Laswell suffers a great deal of pain. But I don’t for a moment believe that I can effect a cure for human misery. Perhaps time will answer in that regard, or perhaps Bill Kraken will answer. He seems wholly dedicated to her. As for Narbondo’s anticipated depredations, you’ve said yourself that there’s such a thing as the police. I have no regard for the lunatic idea that a man might open a lane to the land of the dead in this fabulous manner, although I have a high regard, if ‘regard’ is quite the right word, for Narbondo’s capacity for evil. If I found him lurking hereabouts I’d be inclined to shoot him like a mad dog. But will I go out searching for him because I’m motivated by this wild notion of a gate to the afterlife? I will not.”
“You sound quite certain.”
“Never more so. I’m certain that Mother Laswell dearly wants her son’s skull returned to her. She tells the truth. But I’m not persuaded that it’s my business.”
“I’m happy to hear it. It puts my mind at ease, and it cheers me that I don’t have to beat you with a coal shovel. Poor Mother Laswell, though. I’ll pay a visit to the farm and introduce myself.”
St. Ives looked out the bedroom window, taking in the view. He could feel warmth through the glass. There was a tonic quality to the heat, a salutary tonic, and he found once again that he was quite happy. The children had indeed been asleep when he had returned last night, and the house quiet. Alice, however, had not been asleep, nor did
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