Doris Lessing - The Story of General Dann and Mara's Daughter, Griot and the Snow Dog

In the great hall, where he and Mara had waited to be recognised, he saw Griot sitting at a table, which had on it the frames with beads used for counting, and piles of reed tablets. Dann approached quietly. Griot raised his head and at once a smile appeared, like an embrace. Griot stood and his arms did rise, but fell again as he put on an expression more suitable for a soldier, though he need not have bothered: he was an embodied cry of joy.

‘Dann … Sir … General …’

‘Yes, I’m sorry,’ said Dann, who was, at that moment.

‘You’ve been such a long time.’

‘Yes, I know. I was detained by a witch on an island in the Bottom Sea.’ He was trying to jest, but amended, ‘No, I was joking, it is pleasant down there.’

Now Dann saw something in Griot’s face that made him stand, quietly, on guard, waiting: was Griot going to speak? No. Dann asked, ‘Tell me how things are going.’

Griot came out from behind his table and, standing at ease, as he had been taught when a new soldier under Dann’s command, ‘We have six hundred trained men now, sir.’

‘Six hundred.’

‘We could have as many as we like, so many come to the Centre from the east.’

Here Ruff went forward to inspect this new friend, his heavy tail wagging.

‘We have quite a few of these snow dogs trained as guards,’ said Griot, stroking the animal’s head.

‘People seem to be afraid of them.’

‘Enemies have good reason to be afraid of them.’

‘So, what are those reed huts I saw coming in – they’re new.’

‘Barracks. And we must build more.’

‘And what are we going to do with this army?’

‘Yes, that’s it, but you’ll have heard about Tundra. It’s falling apart. There are two factions. There will be more, we think.’

Dann noted the we.

‘The administration is hardly working. One faction has sent us messages, to join them. It’s the prestige of the Centre, you see, sir.’ Griot hesitated, then went bravely on. ‘It’s your prestige, everyone knows you’re here, in command.’

‘And the other faction, presumably the weaker?’

‘They’re just – useless. It will be a walkover.’

‘I see. And do you know how many refugees are pouring into Tundra from the east?’

‘Yes, we know. Many turn up here. The majority. I have a friend in Tundra, he keeps me informed.’

‘So, Griot, you have a spy system?’

‘Yes – yes, sir, I do. And it is very efficient.’

‘Well done, Griot. I see our army in Agre trained you well.’

‘It was Shabis.’ And at the mention of Shabis Griot’s eyes were full of – what? Dann was on the point of asking, but again evaded with, ‘And how are you feeding all these people?’

‘We are growing grains and vegetables on the foothills of the mountain, where it’s dry. And we have a lot of animals now – there are so many empty buildings on the outskirts.’

‘Why did you build the huts, then?’

‘First, if people are in the Centre they pilfer, and then, keeping the men in barracks makes for uniformity. The empty buildings come in every size and shape, but the huts take two men each or two women and no one can complain about favouritism.’

There was a pause here. Griot was standing on one side of the table, Dann on the other, the snow dog sitting where he could observe them: his eyes went from face to face and his tail wasn’t wagging now.

‘Are you hungry?’ Griot asked, postponing the moment, whatever it was.

‘No, but I am sure Ruff is.’

Griot went to the door and Ruff went with him. Griot shouted orders and returned.

‘You’re honoured, Griot, he doesn’t make friends with everyone.’

‘I get along with snow dogs. I train ours.’

‘Tell me more abut the provisioning,’ said Dann, and Griot did so until a bowl of food arrived and was set down. The soldier who brought it kept his distance from the snow dog. Ruff ate, the two men sat and watched.

‘Better than he’s had in his life. I don’t think much meat has come his way.’

A pause, and now Dann could not help himself. ‘Out with it, what is it?’

Griot sat silent, and then said in a low voice, ‘Don’t blame me for what I have to tell you. Bad enough to have to sit on the news for so long …’

‘Out with it.’

‘Mara’s dead. She died when the child was born.’ Griot averted his eyes from Dann’s face.

Dann said in a matter-of-fact way, ‘Of course. I knew it. That makes sense. Yes.’

Griot risked a swift glance.

‘I knew it all the time, I must have,’ said Dann. ‘Otherwise, why …’ and he fell silent.

‘The message came just after you left.’

Dann sat on, not moving. The dog came to him, put his head on his knee and whined.

Dann rose up from his chair mechanically, slowly, and stood, hands out, palms up. He stared down at them. ‘Of course,’ he said in the same reasonable voice. ‘Yes, that’s it.’ And then, to Griot, ‘You say Mara’s dead?’

‘Yes, she’s dead, but the child is alive. You’ve been gone a good bit, sir. The child …’

‘It killed Mara,’ said Dann.

He began moving about, not consistently or purposefully, but he took a step, stopped, and again there was that way of staring at his hands; he took another step or two, whirled about as if ready to attack someone, stood glaring.

Ruff was following him, looking up at his face. Griot watched them both. Dann took another jerky step or two, then stopped.

‘Mara,’ said Dann. ‘Mara’ in a loud emphatic voice, arguing with someone invisible, so it seemed, and then threatening: ‘Mara dead? No, no, no,’ and now he shouted, all defiance, and he kicked out wildly, just missing Ruff, who crept under the table.

Then in the same erratic jerky way he sat down at the table and stared at Griot.

‘You knew her?’ he said.

‘Yes, I was at the Farm.’

‘I suppose the other one, Kira – Kira had her baby and it’s alive?’

‘Yes.’

‘I suppose we could count on that,’ said Dann grimly, and Griot, knowing exactly why he said it and feeling with him, said, ‘Yes, I know.’

‘What am I going to do?’ Dann asked Griot, and Griot, all pain for Dann, muttered, ‘I don’t know. I don’t know, Dann, sir …’

Dann got up again and began on his jerky inconsequential progress.

He was talking nonsense, names of places and people, ejaculations of protest and anger, and Griot was not able to follow it.

At one point he asked about the old woman, and Griot said that she was dead.

‘She wanted me as a stud, and Mara as a brood animal.’

‘Yes, I know.’

This tale, like the others of Dann’s and Mara’s adventures, was known generally, but sometimes told fantastically. The custodians of the Centre had waited for the rightful prince and princess to arrive and start a new dynasty of the royal ruling family, but they had refused. So far so good. But then the public imagination had created a battle where the old pair were killed because they would not share the secret knowledge of the Centre, and Dann and Mara escaped to found their own dynasty, and would return to the Centre to take over … all of Ifrik, all of Tundra, or however far the geographical knowledge of the teller extended. And in these versions Dann had become a great conquering general who had fought his way here from far down Ifrik.

Dann talked, then muttered, while Griot listened and Ruff watched from under the table. Dann was more than a little mad, and at last Griot got up and said, ‘Dann, sir, General, you must go to sleep. You’ll be ill. You are ill.’

‘What am I going to do, Griot?’ And Dann gripped Griot by the shoulders and stared close into his face. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do.’