Текст книги "Dominion"

Автор книги: Calvin Baker

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

“It only comes to me,” she answered. “For each piece of fabric, I think what it most reminds of, then try to fashion that.”

“Well, it sure is something,” Caleum told her. “I could never do such a thing myself.”

“You yourself must make something, though,” she replied modestly. “Everybody makes something.”

“No, not me. I don’t have the eye for it.”

“Well, I bet you’ll make a good planter,” she said. “That is something that requires knowing a great deal. Maybe not everyone’s talent after all is to create, but that some people have a talent for shepherding, which is just as necessary.”

“Perhaps,” Caleum replied, impressed with her good sense. “I think the two together must complement each other handsomely.”

Libbie could not help but turn away again.

When she did so, Caleum reached out and briefly took her hand. She turned her attention directly to him after that, and they stared straight into each other’s eyes, until Mrs. Darson returned to the room. Caleum quickly stood up again when he saw her in the doorway.

“It has been very nice visiting with you, Mr. Merian,” she said, coming into the middle of the room, where she stood like an immovable pillar.

“Yes, I must get back now. May I return next week?”

“Please do,” Libbie said, then quickly looked to her mother.

“Yes, we would enjoy that,” Mrs. Darson affirmed.

Caleum was happy then as both women wished him a pleasant ride back to Stonehouses. On the way he dreamed of the home he would create with Libbie, and all the comforts and security it would contain. That will be my great talent, he told himself, to make a home like Stonehouses for my own wife and children. As he thought this he began to think of his parents. He spurred his horse then into a fast gallop, wanting to burn away the memory of rejection.

It was over ten years since he had last seen them, and he could barely recall either in his own mind, except for the gossip he sometimes heard – for the story of his parents had become notorious in those parts and was even known on the seas. He knew his love for Libbie was not like theirs but a thing patterned after itself that he was very glad for. Still, he was careful when he daydreamed of his intended that it was temperate, and not feverish as he knew devotion could sometimes be, when its heat consumed both self and host.

four

Caleum and Libbie’s courtship was not long, as the older people, excepting Mr. Darson, would have preferred, but barely a year in duration. The spring after he started wooing her Caleum persuaded Magnus that he was set to see things through to their formal conclusion. Magnus, wary but trusting his nephew to know his own mind by then, accepted the decision without debate and informed Solomon Darson he was free to publicize the engagement and ensuing marriage, which they agreed to have six weeks hence at the Darson place.

Magnus and Caleum spent the rest of that month taking long rides together, to survey the land and search out the best spot to put up a new house. Caleum in his heart had already set on a place about a mile from the main building, overlooking the valley, which he thought might keep Libbie from homesickness. Magnus overuled the idea, however, telling him it would not be good soil for his crops or good grazing for his animals. He led him instead around to a place on the southern side of the lake that sat up on a small rise, lower but almost identical to the one Stonehouses itself occupied.

“This is the second-best land,” he said. “You take it and never worry for dependency, on the main house or anybody else.”

“I don’t fear that so much as being apart from it,” Caleum answered, full of appreciation and gratitude for his uncle’s gesture – for he knew it was the best land but would never have presumed to try and claim it.

Magnus was pleased then that he had been given a good son and proud that they had managed a bond between them that was not only filled with warmth but also with respect and mutual understanding.

“Your father would be very pleased for you,” Magnus told him, putting onto his brother what he himself felt, as they rode back to the stable. Caleum was silent in response, and Magnus allowed him to remain so but only added, “You must never think ill of him. You cannot judge them.”

“No, sir,” Caleum replied.

In truth he sometimes thought his father the meanest man in the world, and at other times greater than everything else he knew, and both feelings made larger from their seed by his absence. No matter his thoughts, however, he never spoke ill of either his parents, neither when alone nor with others, as he would not dream of giving voice to such personal inner grievance.

They returned to the house at suppertime, to find Merian, who sometimes but very seldom still joined them for meals, at the table.

He spoke, when he did at all, in a garbled way, which those around him had learned to decipher, though not always accurately – so that one sentence might be taken to mean a certain thing by Adelia, another thing by Magnus, and yet something else entirely by Caleum. Despite this, they tried to keep him informed of all the goings-on in the family, not certain how much he took in or failed to but honoring his position there.

“Caleum and I have just chosen the spot for his house,” Magnus said, as they sat down to table that evening.

Adelia, who was just about to bring a spoonful of warm mashed potatoes to Merian’s mouth, paused to see whether or not he would answer.

It was clear that he understood the words and their meaning but was slow to formulate his response. When he did, he spoke extremely slowly. “Is he separating now?”

“Soon,” Caleum hazarded to answer.

One side of Merian’s mouth curled in an enigmatic smile when he heard this reply. He turned then to Magnus and asked, “What ground?”

“The southern side of the lake,” Magnus said. “I thought it was the best after Stonehouses itself.”

“It was hard husbanding.”

No one knew what to make of this, and they all looked to one another for guidance until Adelia replied, “He will be a good husband.”

Merian looked to his bowl for more food, which Adelia brought dutifully to his mouth. After he had swallowed, he looked at his grandson and asked, “The wife?”

“She will be good as well,” Caleum said, looking directly at his ancient grandfather. “I am sure of it.”

“Caleum has made a good match,” Magnus vouched for him.

Merian tried to nod his head, as to say he agreed with marrying while young, but it had become a very difficult maneuver. Frustrated by his body’s refusal to do as he would have it, he swiped at the bowl in front of him and sent it to the floor. As Adelia cleaned it up, he sat there sphinxlike, feeling prisoner to the decay that had claimed him, mind and body. No one knew then what it was he wished to communicate, as even his simplest gestures were not what they always seemed.

Caleum and Magnus both knew, however, better than to pity Merian, as his fate might be either of theirs. Rather, they continued to treat him as if he had never known dementia and was still as he had been in the major part of his life.

The morning of Caleum’s wedding to Libbie Darson, a pale blue sky arched unblemished overhead like the ceiling of a godly cathedral. The air was also warm enough to go about with naught but a vest, and the day seemed soft and tremulous with possibility. Merian called his grandson to him in the parlor that morning, where he sat dressed very handsomely in an old-fashioned suit. When Caleum entered, Merian pointed over the mantel to the sword Purchase had crafted long ago and indicated for him to take it down. Caleum walked to the place where it stood and lifted it from its hooks, which made Merian smile from the side of his mouth that still cooperated with him. Caleum went then to embrace his grandfather, and when he did Merian pressed his carved wooden doll into his hand. “For young husbands,” he said.

Besides his lands it was the most cherished of his possessions. The thing third most valuable to him was a golden pocket watch, which hung in his vest and was bequeathed in his will to Purchase, if he ever returned to their lands.

Caleum had long been curious about the wooden doll, which frightened Adelia and made Magnus none too happy. He was honored to have it, though, and placed it in his pocket before either his aunt or uncle could come into the room. “For luck at Caleum’s house,” Merian said again emphatically.

When Magnus came into the room old and young parted conspiratorially, Magnus looked suspiciously from one to the other but decided against asking what they were about. He only dusted away invisible lint from Caleum’s vest, telling him it was time for them to set out and he should help him take Merian to the waiting carriage – whence they made their way to the Darson place for the ceremony.

When they entered the Darson house that morning everyone grew hushed to see Jasper Merian present, for he was the oldest man in the county after Content’s death and had been one of the first to settle there. He was also said to be one of the richest, so an undeniable mystique attached to him.

They were careful about noticing his frail condition, however, and only the smallest children and boldest of the men came directly to greet him. He seemed very aloof to many of them and would barely speak to any save Mrs. Darson and Libbie, though he could not remember her name.

Jasper sat still as a mountain while everyone else moved around him and came to offer good wishes for the union. Mr. Darson was especially desirous of his attention, seeking to shake his arthritic hand several times, and deeply hurt when Merian failed to receive it.

“Did you feed my horses?” Merian asked, the final time Solomon Darson held his hand out to him, as if he were the stable boy instead of the bride’s father.

Darson knew better than begrudge such an ancient soul, but he could not help feeling abused and thought again of the high price Magnus had set for the marriage contract, which is perhaps why he did not stop his sons later that morning.

Promptly at eleven of the clock Libbie came into the hall, glorious and radiant in her wedding dress, and Caleum took his place beside her. When the minister, who suffered from religious melancholy and was extremely dour, asked ceremonially whether any protested the union, Eli Darson and his brother, George, both stood to speak.

Mr. Darson was embarrassed that they might already be drunk and anxious of what mischief they were up to, especially in the instant he looked at his daughter and saw the mortification on her face. Still, he did nothing to intervene.

“On what grounds do you object?” the minister asked them impatiently, as the time for such matters was during the engagement period.

When the preacher asked this, everyone, including George and Eli themselves, could see the childishness of what they had done, for they had no serious grounds but only a general dislike of the groom. Both of them jogged nervously from foot to foot, trying to think of something to redeem themselves, as the guests waited with horror upon their faces.

“If there is no objection,” the minister then went on, seeing it was only boys being churlish.

“On grounds,” Eli Darson spat out at last, “that neither his religion nor his origin is generally known.”

The preacher was very annoyed at their shenanigans, but when Eli said the groom’s religion was not known he paused amid the babble that had overtaken the room to ask Caleum whether he was Christian and had renounced Satan and all his works.

Caleum answered in the affirmative, as Magnus shot daggers from his eyes at Mr. Darson and Libbie began crying. Everyone present was made exceptionally uncomfortable and thought the Darson boys either nefarious or simple. Having started, though, they refused to give up. “Ask him about his father,” George said, grown bold with foolishness. “He is not decent people.”

“Why not ask him yourself?” a man’s voice asked from back of the room, after the Darson boy had finished his speech.

When the couple and their guests turned around to see who had spoken, all in the house went quiet.

A formidably tall man stood up then, his head nearly scraping the ceiling where its wooden beams met the wall. He was wearing a blue brocade vest, silken breeches of a mauve color, and a black waistcoat, also of silk. A starched white shirt and embroidered cravat were visible on his upper body, embroidered stockings on his legs, and all was topped with a three-cocked camel’s-hair hat, which was the first of its fashion ever to be seen in Berkeley. His light eyes seemed to dance, though his face was otherwise filled with a gravity and character that comes only from ceaseless care, or thought and study of human nature at close range. His hair was gone stark white, and he was considerably older than when last they knew him, but everyone could tell, not only from his face and his words but even from the feeling that emanated from his person, that it was Purchase Merian.

How he had gone unnoticed until then none could say, though most who had not seen him for ages were greatly pleased to do so again. Others, who had only heard his legend, were excited to put flesh to lore. Still others bore him grudges decades old. The two Darson boys, though, when they saw the man standing in the back of the room, both found the seats nearest to them and sat themselves down, deciding there was no need of pressing further, such was his natural presence and authority.

At the altar, Caleum felt pulled toward the stranger from the moment that he spoke, but averted his eyes, and returned them to his bride. He nodded for the preacher to carry on with the ceremony. The minister looked at Magnus, who gave his assent as well, and began to read the marriage oath.

After they had at last sworn themselves to each other, and the ceremony was successfully concluded, Purchase strode to the front of the room where the marriage party was standing. When he reached the front row he stopped first to approach his father and kissed the old man warmly, not having known before whether he was alive or dead. Jasper looked up at him, and when he spoke it was the first time he had recognized anybody in a very long time, saying only, “Purchase.”

“Yes, Papa. It’s me.”

“You were on time,” Merian said.

“I suppose,” Purchase answered him. “You could argue it both ways.”

When he greeted Magnus, the two gave each other a hug of great fraternal affection, old enough to know and rejoice that many paths in life are crossed again.

Magnus next introduced his wife, Adelia, whom Purchase knew from when she worked at Stonehouses, and they were happy to be reacquainted as well.

The next person he greeted was Libbie, who found him charming as women invariably did, even though he was old enough to be her father and, by law, now in fact was.

He came then to Caleum. Upon his first approach Caleum held himself back, refusing to look directly at his father. When he did, he felt a huge pressure against his chest and forehead that made it feel as if he were about to come out of his skin. He did not recognize the man from the image he carried in his memory’s eye, but he knew him for who he was with an instinct beneath the illumination of words. He knew the two of them were part of a single whole, however reluctantly. His emotions then were divided, but he held out his hand formally when at last he responded to Purchase’s greeting. “Father.”

The man was sensitive not to cause the boy any further discomfort and held out his own hand in turn, neither drawing any nearer in familiarity nor pulling away from offended feelings. “Congratulations,” he said solemnly. “May you two know nothing together but shared happiness.”

Before Caleum could reply Purchase pulled from his coat a leather satchel, which he handed to the bridegroom. Everyone standing around pressed close to see what it contained. Mr. Darson leaned especially hard against his son-in-law’s shoulder while Caleum thanked his father and opened the parcel. Inside the worn pouch was a multitude of golden coins, shaped larger than any he was used to seeing. Upon closer inspection he saw that one side of each seemed very familiar, though he could not tell exactly why, while the other side bore the image of a young couple on their wedding day, who were uncannily similar to himself and Libbie.

Mr. Darson, when he saw the coins, tried to calculate what each was worth and exactly how many the purse contained, but even without an exact number he felt vindicated, as he could tell at a glance it was far more than the price Magnus had demanded from him.

Had they merely been gold coins, Caleum might have returned them as a bribe against his affections, but these bore all the beauty and artistry that had won Purchase Merian unrivaled fame – even before the notoriety of his affair with Mary Josepha – and it was impossible for him not to feel moved. He could see immediately they had been crafted for him and his bride, and that the tale they told had been with his father for a long time indeed, though he knew not how. More ancient perhaps than he himself was. Certainly, though, it was very old.

Caleum closed the purse and gave it to Magnus for safekeeping, as he and Libbie adjourned to the lawn for the wedding feast, where they presided over the banquet table. Family and friends came then to lavish gifts on them throughout the afternoon, but none more impressive or valuable than Purchase’s.

After eating, the slave Julius led the celebration by pulling out his panpipes and beginning a serenade of the wedding couple. Other musicians joined with him to create a ravishing improvised song of love for the newlyweds. There was also much dancing and playing of cards, as everyone celebrated the new union.

Only the Darson brothers, Eli and George, withheld from the toasting, for they had disgraced themselves and knew better than show their faces. Caleum and Libbie danced, though, full of lightheartedness.

No matter how contented he was with the morning, Caleum knew he must eventually speak full on to his father, but he put it off as long as possible, first filling himself on punch – which was a near calamity as he was not used to its strength – then dancing yet another round.

At the tables Purchase sat with Magnus, Adelia, Mr. and Mrs. Darson, and his own father, Jasper, who did not drink or dine. Their feelings at seeing Purchase again all ran a range, but none of them were as complicated as Caleum’s, even though Magnus knew perhaps better than the others what must be going through his thoughts at that moment.

“It might take a while for him to want to speak to you,” Magnus said to his brother, at one point during the conversation. “His feelings are probably powerful mixed.”

“So they must be,” Purchase agreed. “What about your own?”

“Will you stay on?” he asked. “Are you back at Stonehouses now?”

“I’m back as long as I am here,” Purchase said testily.

“Well, we are happy for that,” Magnus told him. “All of us.”

Purchase thanked Magnus, then turned to seek out his father’s attention. Merian placed his hand on Purchase’s arm and rubbed it very tenderly. “Stay,” he said, the word very slow to form and exit his mouth.

Purchase clasped his fingers. “In my heart I am always here,” he answered, “but we cannot, all of us, always be where our heart is.”

“But where we should,” Merian said, and he was very clear and lucid then.

Purchase loved his father and owed him honor so did not want to argue with him, but he was full grown a long time already and his life was as much his own as any man’s could be said to be – he needed neither father nor brother nor even offspring to define that – and he was learned enough in his life to know what its purpose was: His was the fate of the lover. He argued neither with men nor with God that it should be different.

His time there was a holiday for him from the tribulations of that life, and he wanted to treat it as such, so when the music began again, he was among the first to the dance, going first with Libbie, then Mrs. Darson. To Mrs. Darson he seemed imposing and unreadable, like no man she had known before. When Libbie danced with him, though, she felt a soothing comfort that, while she had never yet felt it in such a way, she knew immediately to be profoundly masculine. There was sadness in it, but while she danced with him she feared nothing and wanted nothing else.

“Will you be a good wife for my son?” he asked her.

“I will do my utmost best,” she answered, and he knew that she would.

“He is a very lucky man in that case, and I could wish nothing more for him,” Purchase told his daughter-in-law.

Just as he knew the boy would be safe when he sent him to live at Stonehouses, he sensed he would be well off with Libbie, especially as – and this he could divine by looking at him – his son’s life would be full of its own trials.

As their dance ended Libbie could scarcely believe the rumors they said about her father-in-law and his wife. What woman, she wondered, would deny such a husband? She hoped, as she went back to her new groom, he might become such a man as his father one day. And it pleased her to think what this future version of Caleum might be like.

Caleum himself was still engaged with distractions and did not muster the resolve to confront his father until it was near eventide. Purchase amused himself in the meantime by watching Julius and Cato gamble at cards. No longer having the desire for that particular vice himself, he watched only in the manner of one who is advanced at chess watching precocious children play at checkers: with interest in the players and how each approached the board and formed his strategy, but little care for the game itself, being able to see the result far in advance.

When his son finally came to him, he knew there were but few possibilities on the board, and what each move was most likely to produce for an endgame.

“How did you know about the wedding?” Caleum asked first, staring at Purchase in the amber light of a setting sun that seemed to burnish everything around them. “Or was it only happenstance that you arrived today?”

“It was published,” Purchase answered him. “When I read it, I knew I must attend.”

“And my mother?” the young man pressed.

“It was her I was looking for when I read the announcement,” Purchase answered him without elaboration.

All Caleum knew of his father was what he had been told by his relatives, or else the gossip of those who were not necessarily friends. Some saw his state as a sickness that could not be purged. To others he was renowned for his boldness and courage. His son tried to divine between these poles. Standing before him he still could not tell, and it took all of his courage to look his father in the eye and ask, “Is it true what they say of you?”

Purchase looked on Caleum with sympathy. “I cannot tell you that because I do not know either who they are or the words from their lips. What men believe is according to each his own needs, but what are facts are well known and I would never deny them to you.”

“Did you come here to mock me with riddles?” Caleum asked.

“The opposite of mocking. I came to celebrate you and your bride and your love for each other,” Purchase said. “I will answer whatever you ask of me, but for what is in other men’s minds I do not know and do not concern myself with. Nor should you so much.”

“The schooling years have passed for me already.”

“May they never.”

“Teach me this then, Father,” Caleum said, looking him steady in the eye. “Where is my mother?”

“I have not seen her for a year,” Purchase answered. “If she knew of your wedding, I am certain she would be happy for you, as I am.”

“If you cannot answer that, what about this?” Caleum looked away at his guests, enjoying themselves on the lawn, and tried to find voice for what was truly on his mind, as it caused him more pain than the fear of his father’s wrath. It was fear of rejection being replayed, but he stoppered that and asked anyway, “Why did you disown me?”

Purchase followed the boy’s gaze out toward the celebration and, beyond that, to the precipice where the Darson property fell off and the rough valleys of that country resumed. “They are disowned – fatherless, motherless – who arrive here every day. Is that what I did?” Purchase asked. “Or did I give you a parenting other than my own? Perhaps it was so you did not have my failures or ambitions to cloud your judgment, or pin your failures upon, and could be your own man. Or do you fear that?”

“All my fears were consumed by the ocean when I traveled upon it as a boy. I have had no fear since then,” Caleum said, drawing up proudly.

“You will be afraid again yet,” Purchase reproached him, “unless you will be a fool. But just as fathers cannot always fathom the minds of their sons, sons do not always know the hearts of their fathers. Cannot feel empathy for their fates. You were only differently fathered, Caleum, such as happens every day and has happened at Stonehouses since my father first cultivated it.”

“Aye, and which one will stay?” Caleum asked, feeling an onrush of emotion for his old father, whom he could admire in many ways but did not understand, any better than when he was only a memory carried from boyhood.

“I don’t know how long I will stay,” Purchase said. “My only home is with your mother, and I hear she is on the other lip of the ocean.”

What maze the two of them had traveled no one outside that relationship could know, but that it had been a complex dance of love and heartbreak and strange devotion was plain for anyone to see. Caleum looked at his sire and was afraid – not that his own marriage might turn out so but that they were part of a scheme larger than themselves he had yet to grasp, and that such quantum weight might be given him to bear. For his mother, he did not know whether she loved his father or not – or what she thought of her son, for that matter – but he felt sadness for both his parents.

“I hope the two of you figure out a way that brings you peace,” he said at last. He knew then, the moment he felt empathy for his father, that his own fate would be otherwise, and the point and purpose of his life would be different. “I hope you find a way home.” He left Purchase and returned to seek out his wife, who would give him untold joy and a life far apart from the other generations at Stonehouses. Of this he was sure.

That evening, when the wedding was over and the newlyweds made their way off to start their life together, Purchase Merian picked up again his own permanent burden and set out in search of his wife. The purpose of his road was to find her, and he still imagined that if the two of them could only unite in lasting happiness it would be very glorious. He would not have rest before this and knew that as well. He was glad indeed his son was at Stonehouses and protected from knowing too much at too young an age, even if he was proving very precocious.