Anthony Powell - Hearing Secret Harmonies

‘You mean Bithel?’

‘You know about him? I was told Scorp had almost to carry him home. Bith was a drunk. Somebody sent him along to us when he was just about to freak out. Bith was the only man or woman I’ve ever seen Scorp behave in a decent way to. He pretty well saved Bith’s life. Bith worshipped Scorp in return. When he got better, Bith did odd jobs about the place nobody else wanted to do. That was pretty useful. There was no one who liked household chores. There was another side too. Scorp said an aged man was required for certain rites. Bith didn’t mind that. He didn’t mind what he did.’

Henderson’s face suggested that some of the acts Bithel had been required to perform were less than agreeable, bearing out Widmerpool’s reluctance to detail his own experience in that line.

‘Could he stand being allowed no alcohol?’

‘That’s the point. Bith found that a drag. It was just the knowledge he was being kept alive prevented him from packing it in — plus adoration for Scorp. From time to time Bith would get hold of a little money, and have a drink on the quiet. Scorp winked at that. He’d never have stood it from anyone else, unless for strictly ritual purposes. That was permitted, like getting high on whatever Scorp might sometimes decide to produce. I used to give Bith the price of a drink once in a while, so he’d do things for me. I’d got some money hidden away.’

‘You weren’t allowed money?’

‘Scorp controlled all that. Most of them hadn’t much anyway. I’d hidden some at the top of the house under the eaves. I’d been thinking about getting away for some time, but it wasn’t so easy. Then seeing Chuck gave me the chance. If Chuck hadn’t been working in the same firm as Clare Akworth — he’s one of their drivers, and gives her lifts to the office — I might not be here. I might not even be alive, if she’d not invited Chuck to the wedding, and he hadn’t always wanted to wear a grey tailcoat.’

Henderson looked absolutely serious when he said he might not have been alive. His manner had become even a little disconcerting in its seriousness.

‘It’s Bith who looks in to see me occasionally. Scorp sends him to London sometimes to do odd jobs. Perhaps with a message to Canon Fenneau, if a respectable link is needed. It is sometimes. Fenneau helped once about getting a girl who was having a baby into hospital. Scorp recognizes that Bith will arrive back drunk, but he just makes him do a small penance. There’s a particular thing Widmerpool’s got that I hope one of these days to get out of him. That’s why I keep in touch with Bith. He isn’t very coherent as a rule. That doesn’t much matter. Do you ever hear anything of Fiona? She used to use Bith too.’

‘Her mother got a letter from her the other day. Fiona seems all right. They’re in the Middle West.’

The Cutts parents, ‘good’ as ever, never complained about hearing rarely from their daughter. Probably they took the view that no news was better than bad news.

‘Scorp used to talk a lot about that American Fiona married.’

‘In connexion with Fiona?’

‘No, not at all. Scorp was angry when Fiona went away, but I don’t think he foresaw she would end up with Gwinnett. It was Gwinnett’s own potential powers that attracted Scorp.’

‘Transcendental ones?’

‘Yes.’

‘What about Widmerpool? Did Murtlock think he possessed transcendental powers too?’

The question was put lightly, even ironically. Henderson chose to answer it seriously. Having now abandoned the cult, he was prepared to denounce Murtlock as an individual; he had been too long connected with its system and disciplines utterly to reject their foundations. That was the impression his manner suggested.

‘Ken’s transcendental gifts were not what Scorp valued him for. I doubt if he possessed any. Not like Gwinnett. It was Ken’s will-power. Also, of course, the basic fact of being able to live in and around his house. Ken wanted to be head. I see now he never could have been. At first it seemed touch and go. At least I thought so. I was afraid Ken would take over. He picked up the doctrinal part so quickly. I was terrified.’

‘Why terrified?’

Henderson looked surprise at being asked that.

‘Because I was in love with Scorp. I wanted him at the head.’

‘Is Widmerpool in love with Murtlock too?’

This time Henderson did not give a snap answer. He hesitated. When he spoke it was objectively, almost primly.

‘I don’t know. It was hard for me to judge. I thought everybody was in love with Scorp. I was jealous of them for that. Ken doesn’t actively dislike girls. He’d watch them naked, whenever he could. He may like boys better now he’s used to them.’

‘You mean in sexual rites?’

‘Or on runs.’

‘You went for naked runs?’

‘Not at all often. Very rarely. Sometimes the ritual required it. In spring or autumn we would have to wait for a fairly warm night. Even then it could be dreadful.’

‘Before breakfast?’

‘Breakfast — you don’t suppose we had breakfast? It was usually about half-past four in the morning. Only about once a year.’

‘Murtlock himself?’

‘Of course.’

‘ Widmerpool too?’

‘Why not?’

‘Bithel?’

‘No — not Bith. Bith was let off. He’d make up for it by the other things he had to do.’

‘And Widmerpool took part in the sexual rites?’

‘When he was able.’

‘Didn’t you meet anyone on your naked runs?’

‘Not in the middle of the night. It wasn’t often. Scorp took us along paths through the woods.’

‘Murtlock had Widmerpool completely under control in the end?’

‘Only after the arrival of Bith. That was the turning point. Ken hated Bith. There was no Harmony. No Harmony at all. That made Scorp angry. It made bad vibrations. He was quite right. It did. I won’t tell you some of the things Scorp made them do together. I don’t like to think of it’

Henderson shuddered.

‘Why didn’t Widmerpool leave?’

‘Where would he go? If he went, Scorp remained in possession of the house. There’s no getting him out. Ken’s believed to have bequeathed it to the cult anyway. He could have made it over already.’

‘Was thought of the house what caused Widmerpool to change his mind at Stourwater?’

‘It was Scorp’s will-power. That’s stronger than anything. You’d know, if you’d ever had to face it. He came to Chuck’s flat, and tried to get me back. There was an awful scene. I don’t know how I got through it. I was shaky for a fortnight after. I did somehow — with the help of Chuck.’

Henderson shuddered again.

‘But what was the point of it all. What did — what does — Widmerpool expect to get out of it?’

Once more Henderson seemed surprised. He was prepared to accept that he himself might find the ways of Murtlock harsh, horrible, even murderous. The aim of the cult, if impossible to express in words, was to him an altogether understandable one.

‘Ken was playing for high stakes, if he really became head. It’s hard to explain. Of course I don’t believe now, not in the least. But Scorp, for instance, where’s he going to end? He might go anywhere. That’s what Ken felt. Of course Ken was too old, apart from anything else.’

‘A messiah?’

‘If you like.’

A bell rang at some length from upstairs. It sounded as if someone was following that up by rattling on the front door. Henderson rose,

‘What can that be? It’s just possible … Wait a moment. I’ll go and see.’

When Henderson’s voice sounded again, at the top of the spiral staircase, its note suggested unexpected satisfaction. Henderson himself seemed to be doing all the talking. At least no replies were audible from whomever he had let in. There was a crash, a pause, a great scrambling and stumbling on the stairs, several steps missed; then Bithel, closely piloted from behind by Henderson, arrived — almost fell down — in the office. The immediate conclusion seemed to be that, whatever gratified Henderson, was not the fact of Bithel having arrived sober. On the contrary, Bithel was in a state of extreme intoxication. He was clutching a brown-paper parcel. Henderson spoke formally, as if nothing were more natural than Bithel’s state.