Аврам Дэвидсон - Peregrine - primus

Appledore had followed him and was babbling again, was his second thought: but then both a quick look round and some inrush of common sense assured him that Appledore had done and was doing nothing of the sort. A faint touch of heat fanned his face, and he thought he saw the air shimmering over a point of land and thicket very near and close to him. A water bird regarded him with indifference, as he let himself go adrift, fetching up in the lee of the point where he catched hold of a trailing branch and held himself in place: and all of this so quickly enough that he heard as it were an echo repeating, “The Great White Christ ...”

Perhaps some Varangians have made their overnight camp here on route between Byzantium which they call Micklegarth

AVRAM DAVIDSON

[ 93 ]

and their own far northern land, he thought to himself, recalling Appledore’s comment that this phrase was much in the use of those Northmen who came south to 'list in the Imperial Guard. But, had he understood Appledore aright, the words could only have been used reverently by the Norse and Rus; and if he could be sure of anything so unexpected it was that the voice which had just now twice repeated the phrase had done so with anything but reverence. And now a second voice with samely tone began to speak, and Peregrine sank a little deeper into the water till the wavelets lapped upon his lips, so strong was the hate he heard.

“Aye, always and always that Pallid Twin, the White Christ, extends his sway, his followers striving always and always to obliterate the very name and fame of the Other. But even they dare never to remove the words which give their false faith the lie,” and here the two voices joined in a deep and reverent recitation of the words, “Black am I but beautiful

Short was the silence. Then the second voice said, “Take the red knife and cut red bread.”

It was not till Peregrine had surfaced again and was swimming as fast for the Homoiousios as he could without making, unchampion swimmer that he was, great sound and fury; that he began to think instead of merely to act and to react, and he realized that he had absolutely no memory of having submerged and taken off from that point of land. He saw Eugenius scanning the river as he came up, and he saw the Eddessan’s face change from concern into relief and then almost at once into vexation; Peregrine heaved himself up from the water to put a finger to his lip and to make a gesture of alarm. The Eddessan stayed silent, but he moved close to the massive over-hanging limb whereon the vessel was moored, and from there he bent to help haul up Peregrine, bare and goose-prickly, and in this was assisted by Appledore, who had just come aft.

“Are they there?’’ Eugenius whispered.

Peregrine half-knelt, half-crouched, his wet and dripping hair leaching forward into a peak. Then he raised his head and said, softly and haltingly, that the “they” whom he had observed were not any Imperial officers nor any officials nor followers of any Imperial church, and, “As to whether they are truly members of

any church at all, I cannot say, being not even an heretic myself, but, Appledore: Do you remember that one night when you—of which you said you hoped that we need never speak of it again between us —?”

Appledore nodded, then winced, then shrugged. “If need, then need. I have not after all sworn by the length of yon cable-tow to keep silence, nor to hele, conceal, and never reveal— Speak up, Per!

“But not too much up,” he added, nervously.

Peregrine spoke but few words. Appledore and Eugenius exchanged swift glances. “If the red knife does be cutting red bread hereabouts,” said the Eddessan, “it is exactly time to embark, and not a moment after time.” Once more the barge left a mooring in haste enough. And there was no explanatory conversation. Peregrine thoughtfully dried his hair and donned his breech-clout. The day looked to be warm, and he felt a chill in his flesh and in his limbs and thought he might gratefully receive some sun.

Wine was poured into a basin and put on the brazier to mull, and, as though the fragrance of its fumes sent out a sort of olfactory signal, suddenly people began to get up. Matron Eudoxia was first, and she seemed to think, from a one or two or more looks and glances and sights, and sighs, that the supple-limbed form of Peregrine might prove perhaps a certain compensation for the loss of her franchise in the wine-tasting and conversation business back in Nimrunna; and after her came the other ladies, whom she greeted with a perhaps maternal and perhaps sororital concern, as:

“Good morning, Pulchrituda, if you are well, I am well, and it is well.”

“Yes, Matron.”

“Good morning, Philoxenia, if you are well, I am well, and it is well.”

“Yes, Matron.”

“Good morning, Pulchrituda, if you are well, I am well, and it is well—it is? —say—didn’t I just see you and greet you coming up from down there just a minute ago?”

“No, Matron.”

“But I say, yes.”

“Say what you like, then.”

The Matron Eudoxia put her hands on her hips, a gesture which gave her a stance not unlike that of a heavy-weight wrestler getting ready to grapple an opponent in the Hippodrome. “Listen, don’t you talk to me like that, you nasty little chippy! Why, what were you when 1 got you but a bedraggled little slut working the booths in every tenth-rate crib in town?”

Pulchrituda slumped into a deceptive crouch, but kept her hands free, and one of them plucked a bodkin from her girdle. “Listen,” she said, “you weren't so much yourself not too long ago from what I hear, and leave us not have any more of that catshit about your pappa daddy and biggest latifundia in West Suavia, either, see?”

Eudoxia screamed like a wounded peacock, seized the girl’s wrist and twisted it so that the bodkin fell to the deck, then heaved the recalcitrant young woman over her shoulder; which shoulder the recalcitrant young woman took the opportunity to sink her teeth into, drawing another scream, and blood.

“First falernian for Pulchrituda,” said Appledore, continuing, in the impartially judicial tones of a referee. “Pulchrituda is down and Eudoxia has her by the arms, but Pulchrituda by a very deft little feet-work has Eudoxia on her side and is giving her the old I-II-III in the ribs and now Eudoxia has Pulchrituda by the right knee and Pulchrituda goes down again, but Eudoxia isn’t holding her, no citizens and senators, because Pulchrituda seems to be part snake and part wild-cat, and O lares and penates! look at her plucking out Eudoxia’s hair by the handful, but now Pulchrituda is down again, she is down! and this time it seems that Eudoxia is going to fracture all of Pulchrituda’s pretty little limbs, what a shame, but all’s fair in the Games, citizens and senators: So what’s your decision, O Senate and the People of Rome? Are the thumbs going to be down, too? Or are they going to be up?—up? —up—”

“Up yours, Grandpa!” said Philoxenia, with an infidel pagan oath which more than matched his, and with that she seized up the fallen bodkin and jabbed it into Eudoxia’s left rump, shouting, “You let go of my chummy, you corn-fed sow!” Appledore at this perhaps felt thatthings had gotten a little out-of-hand an opinion.also held by one of the passengers who was moaning how unproductive the whole scene was— “They could at least turn it into an orgy and charge admission,” he pointed out

Appledore grabbed up the bucket of river-water which had been hauled aboard to dilute the hot breakfast wine, and doused the contestants all, impartially.

“Oh dear,” a soft, female voice said, “I am afraid that this is all my fault. You see, my name is also Pulchrituda, and so naturally I responded when greeted, and so ... Oh dear. Oh, dear ladies, will you, can you forgive me?” And while most of the folk present looked on in simple confusion, Peregrine observed, rapidly, two things; firstly, that the last speaker did bear a definite resemblance to the other female of the same name; and, secondly, that she was none other than the somewhat reluctant companion of Mother Boadicea.