338
They must be out of the village, for right overhead, branches began to go past against a sky where horses’ tails slid across tender blue. A bird lit on one of the branches and tipped its head to look down. It seemed to Rodvard as he gazed into the single revealed eye that he could, with his Blue Star, read the avian thought—of food and sex, confused, and not unlike a human’s. This might only be another effect of the witchery, but it set him thinking about his own confusion of mind and what the butler Tuolén had said about Star-bearers and their women; so he considered what species of joy or completeness was to be had from these skirted creatures, who for a spiritless complaisance4 would exact a slave’s devotion.
Lalette. He wondered whether her witchcraft5 would give her knowledge of his infidelity of thought with the Countess Aiella, and of deed with the maid Damaris; and if so, what penalty would be demanded of him. Ah, no; why should penalty be due? This was not marriage, he had taken no oath nor meant any. Give back the Blue Star, let us pronounce a bill of farewell, and be damned to Mathurin and his menaces, or even to Remigorius and the cause for which all was done.
The mule’s feet klopped on a bridge, the clouds were thickening toward grey above and birds chirping6 as they will when a storm is toward. No, no, friend Rodvard, he answered himself; be honorable as you hope to receive honor. Acquiescence7 she gave you, aye, beneath the trees; but you half forced her then. The night in the widow Domijaiek’s bed was no unwilling8 gift, but for both of them the end of life and its beginning. A new life with Lalette the witch, holding the sweetness of peril9, not that of repose10, something beyond any connection that might have been formed with Maritzl of Stojenrosek. Had she laid some witchery upon him to make it so, not being herself affected11? Seek her out, anywhere; discover if that enchantment12 were forever.
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Could such things be? Witchery was something which, like death, he had no more than heard of from the world beyond his world. When he was a lad in the village among the spurs of the Shining Mountains, there was the fat old woman who had grown so dreadfully thin, all in a week, and people saying it was witchery on her. The priest came with his oils, but it was too late, and she died the next day, and no one ever found the witch, if there were one. Oh, aye, there were prosecutions13 of witchery in town, and now the mule-driver’s wife, Lalette, the Blue Star, and he himself caught into something he did not understand and which made him afraid . . . and because he had done no more than cherish high ideals and obey orders.
The pains were less, but all his muscles so immobile that they afforded no yielding to the throw of the cart, and thus piled bruise14 on bruise. A long ride; it must be after the meridian15 of the sun, though even heightened perception would not tell him if this were so, since he had lost all sense of direction in the intricacy of the turnings. The mule’s feet and cart’s tires struck paving stones, the movement became uneven16, voices were audible and they were entering a town, so that Rodvard began to hope of a rescue—and with that hope, a fear of what would happen if there were no rescue. What did the man mean to do with him? He found no visible answer, for though it was evident that though the repulsive17 spouses18 were minded for murders, and himself not the first to fall into their clutches, it hardly seemed they would have fixed19 the mechanician’s badge on his breast in mere20 anticipation21 of disposing of a body.
Droll22 to think of oneself as a body—an idea he did not remember having held before, ever. His mind achieved a wedding between this line of thought and the earlier one, or how it was when that urge toward the Countess Aiella had slipped out of merely playing a part into deep desire, it was the voice of body speaking to body. But it was not that way on the widow’s bed; that night it was as though a flame sprang up, to which their bodies responded last of all. Ah, Maritzl (he thought), with you also there might have been such a union of flames, to last forever and ever, only I did not know, I did not dare, before the Blue Star had bound me to this other.
Now a certain brightening of the diffused23 light reflected into the cart told him they were passing houses with snow-white walls; by this, with the time and distance, they must be in Sedad Vix city. Odors floated to him—salt water, fish, the spicy24 products of the south, not unpleasantly blended. The docks. Was the man going to make him a body by heaving him into the sea? To his futile25 angers was added that of not being able to see the old rascal’s eye—now the Blue Star had recovered its virtue26 under the witch-wife’s ministration—but there was time for little more of thinking, for the cart drew up with a cry to the mule, the driver got down heavily, his feet sounding on stones and then on plank27.
340
He was gone briefly28; Rodvard felt the covering taken from him, and with a grunt29, he was hoisted30 to a shoulder, stiff as a log. A whirling view of pallid31 dockside houses, the masts of a tall ship with her sails hanging in disorderly loops; he came down with a jar that shook every bone onto what appeared to be some structure projecting from the deck, where a red face surrounded by whisker looked into his own. One eye in the face was only a globule of spoiled milk; (the cold Blue Star on Rodvard’s heart told him the good eye held both cruelty and greed).
“Yah,” said Redface. “The fish is cold.”
“I tell you now, live as an eel32. Fetch a mirror.”
Redface reached out a dirty-nailed hand and pinched Rodvard’s cheek, hard. “Mmmmb. A spada’s worth of life. To save argument, I’ll give you two.”
“Ey, look at him, a proved mechanician with a badge and all. I say to you, my old woman she has done with him so he’ll work like a clock, pick, pick, never mind time nor nothing. A gold scuderius; you should give me two.”
They chaffered horribly over his body, while Rodvard lay moveless as a statue (thinking of how he was one, alas33 not cradled in light and speed like the Wingèd Man to whom he had compared Count Cleudi when Cleudi marked the resemblance between them; not upborne by spirit like the figure of the archer-hero; but a stiff corpse34, subject of a sale, a carcass, a beef). He heard the chink of money passing; the one-eyed man gave an order that Rodvard was to be taken below, and someone carried him awkwardly with many bumpings down a ladder to a tight room smelling of dirty humans. He was tossed high onto a kind of shelf and left alone for a long time (thinking all the while of what the mule-driver had said about his being witched to work like a clock, and wondering whether it were true).
After a while, a doze35 came upon him, for which there was no emergence36 till the round hole in the ship’s wall had ceased to give light. The place filled suddenly then with feet and words, many of the latter with a Kjermanash accent, or in that language itself. One of these persons pointed37 to him and there was a laugh. Rodvard tried to turn his head, and to his surprise found it would move a tiny arc, though by an effort that redoubled the agony throughout the bruised38 mass of his body. Yet the stirring was a joy as great as any he had ever experienced, and he lay repeating it, as the assemblage below—garrulous as all Kjermanash—came and went with pannikins from which floated an appetizing perfume of stew39. Rodvard found other movements beside his head, and lay repeating them through the twinge of pain. A whistle blew, some of the men went out and up, while the others undressed noisily, put out the light and composed themselves for sleep on shelves like that which bore the young man.
341
For him there was little sleep, and as life flowed along ankylosed muscles, he was invaded by a sense of irrevocable disgrace, so poignant40 that it drowned fear. Damaris the maid . . . he had sold his soul for a copper41 there . . . not that he felt to the girl any profound debt as to Lalette, or that such a debt were just—but whether from the priests’ teaching at the academy, or the words of Remigorius, he had somehow grown into a pattern of life which, being violated, one was cast down into a sea of life by merest impulse . . . ah, no, should it not be rather that each event must be judged by itself? . . . and no, again—for by what standard shall one judge? Impulse or an absolute, there is no third choice.
So thinking, so seeking to find a clue to conduct (or to justify42 his own, merely, Rodvard told himself in a moment of bitterness), he lay on his comfortless couch, aware that the ship had begun to move with uneasy tremors43; and presently dawn began to flower. At the room’s entrance a lantern showed a bearded face, into which a whistle was thrust to blow piercingly. All the men leaped from their shelves with a gabble like a common growl44 and began dressing45 in the greatest haste. The bearded man shoved through them and shook Rodvard so rudely that he was jerked from his shelf, coming down thump46 on the deck, with feet that would not hold him.
“Rouse out!” said the bearded man, catching47 him a clout48 across the headbone. “You lazy scum of shore mechanicians must learn to leap when the mate sounds.”
Rodvard staggered amid coarse laughter, but having no means of protest, followed the Kjermanash, who were scrambling49 rapidly up the ladder. They were in open sea; the breeze was light, the day clear and the air fine, but even so, the slight motion gave him a frightful50 qualm. His first steps were across the deck to the rail, where he retched up all that lay on his stomach, which was very little.
“You, what’s your name?” said the bearded mate.
“Rodvard—Berg-elin.”
“I call you Puke-face. Go forward to the mainmast, Puke-face, eat your breakfast if you can, and then repair the iron fitting that holds the drop-gear repetend. The carpenter’s cabinet under the break of the prowhouse will give you tools.”
“I—I cannot use tools. I am—a clerk, not a mechanician.”
342
“Death and dragons! Come aft with me, you cunilingous bastard51!” The mate’s hand missed Rodvard’s neck, but caught a clutch of jacket at the shoulder, and dragged him along the deck to where a flight of steps went up, and the one-eyed captain stood, an ocular under his arm. “Captain Betzensteg! This lump of excrement52 says it knows nothing of mechanic.”
Sick though he was, Rodvard felt the Blue Star burn cold and looked up into an eye (brimming with something more than mere fury, something strange from which his mind turned). “Diddled, by the Service!” said the voice, between heavy lips. “When next—ah, throw your can of piss up here.”
Rodvard was jerked against the steps, striking his shin, and stumbled up by using his hands. The one-eyed captain reached out and ripped the badge from his breast, tearing the cloth. “Go below, stink-pot,” said he, “and tell my boy he’s promoted to seaman53. You shall serve my table.”
“Yes, sir,” said Rodvard and looked around for his route, since all the architecture of a ship was stranger to him than that of a cathedral.
“Go!” said the captain, and lifted an arm as though to strike him with the ocular, but changed his mind. “What held you from telling your status?”
“Nothing,” said Rodvard, and gripped the rail of the stair-head, for his gorge54 began rising within.
“If you puke on my deck you shall lick it up.” The captain turned his back and shouted; “Lift the topper peak-ropes!”
Down the stairs again there were not so many ways to choose from, so he took to the door to the right (hoping under his mind that this would be an omen) along a passage and into a room, where a sullen55-faced lad of maybe eighteen was folding a cloth from a table. “You are Captain Betzensteg’s boy?” asked Rodvard, trying to keep from looking through the window, where the sea-edge rocked slowly up and down. “I am to say you are promoted seaman.”
The lad’s mouth popped open as though driven by a spring, he dropped the napery and ran around the table to seize Rodvard by both arms. “Truly? If you trick me—” For one instant pale eyes flashed fury and the small down before first shaving trembled. But he must have seen honesty before him (“Born for the sea and freedom!” his thought read), and quickly thrust past to make for the door.
343
“Stay,” said Rodvard, holding him by the jacket. “Will you not show me—?” The spasm56 caught him and he retched, mouth full of sour spittle.
The lad turned laughing, but without malice57, and clapped him on the back. “Heave hearty58!” he said. “It will come better when you come to learn the free way of the ocean; grow to love it and care nothing for landlouts. Here are the linens59.” He opened the midmost of a set of drawers built into the wall. “The old man takes no napkins save when there are guests aboard—a real dog of the brine, with fish-blood in his veins60, that one! I am called Krotz; what’s your name?”
Rodvard’s telling, he hardly seemed to notice, but continued his flood of instructions. “In these racks are the silvers; he uses only the best, and be careful at dinner to set his silver bear on the table, it was given him by the syndics at the time of the Tritulaccan war for his seamanlike61 skill. The bed-bunk you must carefully fold in at the base, but he likes the top loose, so. Wine always with the early meals, it is here. If the weather’s fair he sometimes takes fired-wine in the evening. If he orders it so—”
The lad Krotz halted, looked sidewise out of his eyes and leaned close. “Hark, Bergelin, I am not what you would call jealous. Have you ever—that is, when he has fired-wine, he may desire to treat you as his lover.”
“I—” Rodvard recoiled62, and retched again.
“Ah, do not be so dainty. It is something that every true seaman must learn, and keeps us from being like the landlouts. You do not know how it can be, and he gives you silver spadas after. But if you will not, listen, all the better, when the old man calls for his fired-wine, set the bottle on the table, take away the silver bear, and call me.”
Said Rodvard (no little astonished, that the emotion of which The Blue Star spoke63 was indeed jealousy); “No. I’ll have none of it, ever.”
A smile of delight so pure that Rodvard wondered how he had thought the lad’s look sullen. “The cook will give you breakfast. I must go—to be a seaman.”
344
Captain Betzensteg ate by himself. Rodvard was glad that he remembered the silver bear, but when he tried to hold forward the platter of meat as he remembered seeing Mathurin do it for Cleudi, he got things wrong, of course, and the one-eyed man growled64; “Not there, you fool. The other side.” The meat itself was something with much grease, pork probably, which it sickened Rodvard even to look at as the captain chewed liquidly, pointing with his fork to a corner of the cabin and declaring he would barber someone of his ears unless it were kept cleaner. That night there was no call for fired-wine; Rodvard felt a surge of gratitude65 for preservation66 as he cleared up after the meal, and made his way forward to the crew quarters in what he now had learned to be the peak-jowl.
Sickness sent him to his shelf at once, for the movement of the ship was becoming more vivid as twilight67 fell, but sleep had not yet reached him when there was a change of duty, as in the morning, and of those who came tumbling down the ladder, Krotz was one. He was much less the lord of the earth than earlier; no sooner was the lad in place than all the Kjermanash were after him unmercifully, with hoots68 and ribald remarks, pinching his cheeks and his behind, till at the last the lad, crying; “Let me alone!” flung his arms out so wildly that he caught one of the sailors a clip on the nose and sent him staggering. The fellow snarled69 like a tiger, all his rough humor dissolved in black bile, and recovering, whipped out a tongue of steel. But Rodvard, without knowing how or why he did so, rolled from his shelf onto the shoulder and arm that held the knife, bearing the man to the floor.
The Kjermanash fought upward; Rodvard took two or three nasty blows on the side of the head, as he clung with both his hands to the dagger70, and knew with more interest than fear that he must lose in the end to the overbearing strength of the man. But just as he was giving way, a pair of hands beneath the armpits wrenched71 him clear and flung him against the shelves, while a big foot kicked the knife.
“What’s here?” demanded the voice of the bearded mate. “Puke-face, you’ll have a dozen lashes72 for this, damme if you don’t! You to attack a full-grade seaman!”
Said Rodvard, feeling of his head; “He would have knifed Ser Krotz.”
“Ser!” The mate barked derision, and his head darted73 round like a snake’s. “Is this veritable?”
All the Kjermanash began cawing together; the mate appeared to comprehend their babble74, for after a minute or two of it, he held up his hand with; “Shut up. I see it. This is the sentence—Vetehikko, three days’ pay stopped for knifing. As for you, Puke-face, your punishment’s remitted75, but in the future, you’ll sleep in the lazarette to teach you your true status aboard this basket.”
345
He turned to the ladder, and not a word from the Kjermanash for once, but as they glowered76 among themselves, young Krotz came to throw his arms around Rodvard. “I owe you a life,” he said, at the edge of tears.
Said Rodvard; “But I will pay for it.”
“Ah, no. I—will surely buy you free.”
“I did not know there was status aboard a sea-ship; you said the life on one was free as a bird.”
“Why, so it is, indeed, but not for lack of status, which is the natural order of things. Are you an Amorosian?”
It nearly slipped off Rodvard’s lips that he was rather of the Sons of the New Day, but Krotz’ words showed how little he would find such a confession77 acceptable, and he did not trust the Kjermanash; and by another morning, the ship’s motion told on him somewhat less heavily.
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1
queasiness
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| n.恶心 | |
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jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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complaisance
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| n.彬彬有礼，殷勤，柔顺 | |
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witchcraft
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| n.魔法，巫术 | |
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chirping
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的现在分词 ) | |
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7
acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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8
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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11
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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prosecutions
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| 起诉( prosecution的名词复数 )； 原告； 实施； 从事 | |
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bruise
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| n.青肿，挫伤；伤痕；vt.打青；挫伤 | |
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meridian
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| adj.子午线的；全盛期的 | |
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16
uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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18
spouses
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| n.配偶，夫或妻( spouse的名词复数 ) | |
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19
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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20
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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spicy
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| adj.加香料的；辛辣的，有风味的 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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30
hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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eel
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| n.鳗鲡 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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emergence
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| n.浮现，显现，出现，（植物）突出体 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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43
tremors
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| 震颤( tremor的名词复数 )； 战栗； 震颤声； 大地的轻微震动 | |
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44
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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45
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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46
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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47
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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48
clout
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| n.用手猛击；权力，影响力 | |
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49
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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50
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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51
bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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52
excrement
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| n.排泄物，粪便 | |
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53
seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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54
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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55
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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56
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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57
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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58
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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59
linens
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| n.亚麻布( linen的名词复数 )；家庭日用织品 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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seamanlike
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| 海员般的，熟练水手似的 | |
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recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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hoots
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| 咄，啐 | |
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snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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remitted
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| v.免除（债务），宽恕( remit的过去式和过去分词 )；使某事缓和；寄回，传送 | |
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glowered
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| v.怒视( glower的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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