Iris Murdoch - The Bell

An appalling almost stunning silence followed. Toby sat quite still on the seat of the tractor. Then he breathed out slowly and rubbed his hands over his face and brows. He felt rather as if he would like now to crawl away somewhere and go to sleep. The last few minutes had been too crammed with experience. He began to climb from his seat and was mildly surprised to find that the extreme tension of his muscles had made him stiff. He got down and leaned over to rub his leg. He was amazed to find himself naked except for the bathing trunks.

“Toby, you were marvellous!” said Dora’s voice beside him. “You’re an absolute hero. Are you all right? Toby, we’ve succeeded!”

Toby was in no mood for transports. He sneezed, and said, “Yes, yes, I’m O.K. Let’s look at the thing now. It’ll probably turn out to be an old bedstead or something.” He stumbled past the dark shape in the middle of the floor and found his torch. Then he played the light upon it.

The bell lay upon its side, the black hole of its mouth still jagged with mud. Its outer surface, much encrusted with watery growths and shell-like incrustations, was a brilliant green. It lay there, gaping and enormous, and they looked at it in silence. It was a thing from another world.

“Well, good heavens,” said Dora at last. She spoke in a low voice as if awed by the presence of the bell. She reached out cautiously and touched it. The metal was thick, rough, and curiously warm. The thing was monstrous, lying there stranded upon the floor. She said, “I had no idea it would be so huge.”

“Is it the one?” said Toby. He was amazed as he looked at it to think that it had been possible to make so large and inert an object obey his will. It was weird too that a thing so brightly coloured should have come out of so dark a place. He touched it too, almost humbly.

“Bring the torch closer,” said Dora. “Paul said there were scenes of the life of Christ.”

They bent over the bell together, playing the light closely upon the vivid uneven surface. A little way from the rim it seemed to be divided into sections. Toby clawed with his fingers in the circle of light, pulling off encrusted mud and algae. Something was appearing. “My God,” said Toby. Eyes stared at them out of square faces and a scene of squat figures was revealed.

“It must be!” said Dora. “But I don’t recognize that. Go on scraping. How grotesque they are. Yes, there’s another scene. Why, it’s the nativity for sure! Do you see the ox and the ass? And there are people catching fish. And all those men at the table must be having the Last Supper. And here’s the crucifixion.”

“And the resurrection,” said Toby.

“There’s something written,” said Dora.

Toby turned the light onto the rim of the bell. The words, interspersed with strangely shaped crosses, stood out clearly in the green metal. After a moment he said, “Yes, it’s Latin.”

“Read it out,” said Dora.

Toby read out “ Vox ego sum Amoris. Gabriel vocor . ‘I am the voice of Love. I am called Gabriel.’ “

“Gabriel!” cried Dora. “Why, that was its name! Paul told me. It is the bell!” She looked up at Toby from where she was kneeling near its mouth. Toby turned the torch onto her. Her hair was wet with lake water and her cheeks were smudged with mud. A dark trickle was finding its way into the bosom of her hastily buttoned dress. Her hands laid upon the bell she blinked in the light, smiling up at Toby.

“Dora!” said Toby. He dropped the torch on the ground where its curtailed arc of light continued to shine. Naked as a fish, Toby felt a miraculous strength twisting inside him. He, and he alone, had pulled the bell from the lake. He was a hero, he was a king. He fell upon Dora, his two hands reaching for her shoulders, his body collapsing upon hers. He heard her gasp and then relax, receiving his weight, her arms passing round his neck. Clumsily, passionately, Toby’s hard lips sought her in the darkness. Struggling together they rolled into the mouth of the bell.

As they did so the clapper, moving within the dark metal hollow, struck violently against the side, and a muted boom arose and echoed away across the lake whose waters had now once again subsided to rest.

MICHAEL MEADE was awakened by a strange hollow booming sound which seemed to come from the direction of the lake. He lay rigid for a moment listening anxiously to the silence that succeeded the sound, and then got out of bed and went to the open window. It was a bright moonlight night and the moon, full and risen high, cast a brilliance which was almost golden on the tranquil expanse of the water. Michael rubbed his eyes, amazed at the speed of his reaction, and still wondering whether he was awake or dreaming. He stood a while watching the quiet scene. Then he turned the light on and looked at his watch which said ten past three. He felt wide awake now and anxious. He sat on the edge of his bed, tense, listening. He had again that strange sense of impending evil. He sniffed, wondering if there were in fact some nauseating smell pervading the room. He remembered that just before he woke he had been dreaming of Nick.

He was too uneasy to sleep again. The noise he had heard – he was sure this time that he had really heard it -unnerved him. He had vague memories of stories heard in childhood of noises coming out of the sea to portend disaster. He got dressed, intending to make a tour round the house to see that everything was all right. Strange visions afflicted him of finding that the Court was on fire. He turned the light on in the corridor and walked about a bit. Everything was as usual and no one else seemed to be stirring. He went out onto the balcony and looked round him in the splendid night. He saw at once in the distance that there was a light on in the Lodge. Nick at least was up. Or Toby. He scanned the banks of the lake as far as he could see in either direction. All seemed quiet.

Then he noticed something moving, and saw that a figure was walking along the path that led from the causeway to the ferry. He was clearly revealed now, with a long shadow, the figure of a man walking purposefully. Michael felt an immediate thrill of alarm and apprehension. He watched for a moment and then hurried down the steps and across the terrace to intercept the night wanderer, whoever he might be. The man, seeing Michael coming, stopped abruptly and waited for him to come nearer. Straining his eyes in the moonlight, and almost running now, Michael approached; and then recognized the figure, with mingled disappointment and relief, as Paul Greenfield.

“Oh, it’s you,” said Paul.

“Hello,” said Michael. “Anything the matter?”

“Dora’s vanished,” said Paul. “I woke up and found her gone. Then when she didn’t come back I thought I’d go and look for her.”

“Did you hear an extraordinary sound just now?” said Michael.

“Yes,” said Paul. “I was just falling into a gorse bush at the time. What was it?”

“I don’t know,” said Michael. “It sounded like a bell.”

“A bell ?” said Paul.

“I see there’s a light on in the Lodge,” said Michael.

“That’s just where I’m going now,” said Paul. “I thought Dora might be there. Or if she isn’t, I’d be interested to know whether Master Gashe is in his bed. Have you noticed those two rushing round together like a pair of conspirators?”

Michael who had indeed on his own account noticed this said. “No, I noticed nothing.” They began to walk towards the ferry.

“Do you mind if I come with you?” said Michael. He too felt an intense desire to know what was going on at the Lodge.

Paul seemed to have no objection. They crossed in the boat and began to hurry along the path to the avenue. The light beaconed out clearly now. They passed out of the moonlight into the darkness of the trees and felt the firm gravel of the drive underfoot.