R f nelson, p.5
R. F. Nelson, page 5
Whenever they were flying through the space outside of time, the ghosts clustered around them in thick spinning clouds, calling to them, stretching out imploring fingers, but they passed them so fast their anguished pale faces were hardly more than a blur.
“Well, here we are,” Urizen said.
Kate looked around. They were, she recognized, in London, but it was not quite the London she was familiar with.
“I think we’ve overshot,” William said. “This is London as it was when I was a child.”
He was right. Kate recognized the costumes of the people who passed the mouth of the alley where they stood as those of her mother’s day.
“Perhaps we should have worn something more in the fashion of the time,” William said with a frown. This was directed at Urizen; Kate and William’s garb was only a little odd, while Urizen’s nakedness would have been freakish in almost any historical period.
“We won’t be here for long,” Urizen said as he unslung a leather bag from his shoulder. There was something in the bag, something long, slender and heavy.
Kate glanced around nervously. If someone should see them standing there with these white wings…
“Ah,” Urizen said. “Here she comes now.”
Kate followed his line of vision, then gasped.
Her mother was coming down the street, her mother as a young woman hardly older than Kate herself. There could be no mistaking the family resemblance. Urizen smiled.
“Can I speak to her,” Kate whispered.
“If you like,” Urizen answered.
Kate slipped off her wings and stepped from the alley. “Mother?”
The woman looked up sharply. Her mind had been on other things. “Do I know you, me girl?”
“I’m your daughter.”
“I have no daughter. Don’t joke with me. I’m not a married woman.”
“But you will be a married woman.”
“I certainly hope so.”
“And you’ll have a daughter named Kate.”
“Are you a gypsy witch? I’ll not give you money, you know, be your fortune-telling ever so true. I’m not a rich one.”
“A fortune-teller? No, I’m…” But how could she explain?
And now her mother was looking past her, eyes widening with fright.
Had she seen Urizen? Kate half turned. Urizen had indeed stepped from the alley. He had a flintlock pistol in hand.
“Urizen, what…” Kate began.
Urizen took aim and pulled the trigger. There was a click, and faint momentary sizzle, and an earsplitting bang. Kate screamed. Kate’s mother fell.
Kate knelt by her side. “Urizen. Why? I don’t understand.”
“You can’t help her,” Urizen said quietly. “She’s quite dead.”
There were people running toward them from the other side of the street. William had grabbed Urizen’s arm.
“Let me go, you fool,” Urizen growled. “We can set this right easily enough, if we get out of here.”
“How?” demanded William.
“Come. I’ll show you.”
He snatched up the wings Kate had discarded and, with a rush, they were once again in the place outside of time.
There was a brief blur of ghostly faces, then the alley again. They had gone backward in time, but not far.
Urizen seated himself on a barrel and, humming softly to himself, began filling the flintlock pistol with gunpowder.
“My mother… is she really dead?” murmured Kate.
“Yes, indeed,” Urizen said, tamping in the powder with a short ramrod drawn from the underside of the gun.
“But then… that means I never was born,” she said.
“Does it?” Urizen said. “You seem real enough to me.”
“You said you could get things right,” William said angrily.
“And so I can, sir.” Urizen neatly plopped a metal ball down the muzzle, then tamped in a bit of wadding. “A little patience, if you please.”
He had finished loading the pistol, and now cocked it. “My theory, for what it’s worth, is this. When we step outside the stream of time we break the chain of cause and effect. Things are changed in the ordinary world, but the changes don’t affect us. In a moment you’ll see… ah, there you are.”
Kate heard an exclamation of surprise. She whirled. Not three feet away stood a second Urizen, a second William, and… a second Kate. Kate had seen herself in a mirror many times, but it was not like this. The other Kate was a living, breathing being, not a reflection, a separate being that looked back at her when she looked at it. As she fell back a step, Kate noticed, from the corner of her eye, that Urizen was again aiming the pistol.
The second Urizen tensed.
The first Urizen fired.
Her ears ringing from the violence of the shot, she saw, with that supernatural clarity that comes with a fever, a hole appear in the forehead of the second Urizen, saw that powerful well-muscled body sprawl, face-down, in the dirt. The second Kate and the second William bent over, took hold of the body, and all three vanished. There remained no sign of them but a spot of damp blood in the dust.
“How could you kill him?” asked Kate in a strangled whisper.
“He let me do it,” Urizen answered placidly. “He lowered his shields for me, as I’d planned.”
“But what about my mother?” Kate demanded.
“Why don’t you go to the mouth of the alley and have a look?” Urizen suggested.
With William close behind her, she did as Urizen said.
Yes, there was her mother coming down the street, preoccupied with her own affairs.
This time Kate let her pass, remaining in the shadows to watch this young woman until she turned a corner and was lost from view.
“But…” Kate was still unsteady on her feet. “But where did the second Urizen and Kate and William go?”
“I must confess,” Urizen answered lightly, “I haven’t the foggiest notion.”
“You mean,” William demanded, “you perform these experiments with people’s lives, and you don’t know what you’re doing?”
Urizen was unperturbed. “It is by performing experiments, my dear sir, that we find out what we’re doing.” He was returning the pistol, still smoking slightly, to his leather bag.
Was it her imagination or did she see, among the ghosts who swarmed around them as they returned to Rintrah, the tortured faces of Urizen and Kate’s mother?
*
The Blakes had met other Zoas; not only humans from various ages of history, but creatures from other levels of being… dragon-men, eagle-men, lion-people who seemed made from blazing fire.
And they had met, though Kate attached little importance to it, the beautiful Vala of the Long Black Hair, daughter of Luvah, the galactic ruler. There was a falseness to Vala, with her sophisticated posturing, that annoyed Kate, though William seemed fascinated by it, much to Kate’s disgust.
Vala was full of riddles and mysteries.
For instance, Vala had once told them, as she lay on her couch of orange nylon tricot, “Yes, I am the daughter of Luvah, and some day I will be the mother of Urizen.”
William had protested, “But Urizen is already born.”
“Not in the stream of my private time,” Vala had replied. “I am a lucky mother, to see my son full-grown before I see him as a babe. It will make motherhood easier, when it comes, to know how handsome a man my baby will become.”
And before she could be questioned further, Vala had gathered her long translucent red robes around her and walked slowly away.
*
But now Urizen was growing impatient.
In the hall of the stained-glass windows, before the unfinished window of Urizen’s face, Urizen stood, half in light and half in shadow. “You said, my friends, that when you had enough information, you would choose between me and the others, between my way and theirs. There is no more to teach you. I have taken you to the most distant outpost of what I know.
Now you must choose.”
“We’re ready,” said William firmly.
“No, we’re not,” contradicted Kate.
“Trouble in the family?” asked Urizen with a raised eyebrow. “I would not wish to come between man and wife.”
“Mr. Urizen, sir,” began Kate. “It wouldn’t be fair if we made our choice here in Rintrah. You’ve quite bedazzled us with all your wonders, and we must have a clear head for such an important decision.”
“What do you propose, woman?” Urizen spoke coldly.
“Let us go home to London, to our own century, to our own home, Mr.
Urizen. There we’ll be able to see things in a more normal light.”
William turned on her, face red with anger. “This is our home now, Kate! Rintrah! And the whole range of time from beginning to end. For us to return to our old life now would be like a butterfly trying to squeeze back into his cocoon. We belong here, with Urizen.”
Urizen smiled.
Kate shook her head vigorously, “No, no, Mr. Blake. You think like that because you’re so easily influenced. I’m sorry, but it’s true. You always get so carried away by every new fancy.”
“Mrs. Blake!” William drew himself up indignantly.
“You won’t admit it, Mr. Blake, but I could give you an example or two if I liked. Now you’re my husband. That’s right, isn’t it?”
“Why, of course.” There was suspicion in William’s tone.
“And you love me, don’t you? Or at least you did once.”
“I’ll always love you. You can’t say I’ve ever given you cause to think otherwise.”
“Then to make me happy—you do want to make me happy if you love me—come back with me.”
“Kate.” He was wavering.
“Please.” She was pleading.
“Oh, very well.” He would do it, she could see, but he’d find ways to make her regret asking him to do it. That was a man’s way. Only a woman, she thought, can do an unselfish thing without wanting revenge.
Urizen was annoyed, but managed to maintain his facade of politeness.
“You decide not to decide. Very well. I will wait yet a bit longer, but you must understand something.”
The Blakes turned toward him expectantly. “Yes?” said Kate.
Urizen was no longer smiling. “I and other Zoas disagree on many things, but on one thing we all agree completely. We cannot allow anyone who is not a member of the League of Zoas to enjoy the power of time voyaging.”
“I understand,” Kate said softly.
“Good,” Urizen said, his habitual smile returning. “Then take your wings and go, with my blessing. I’ll be dropping in on you from time to time, to see if you’ve changed your minds.”
“You’ve traveled into our future already, haven’t you?” demanded William. “You know what we’ll decide.”
Urizen, for the first time, seemed really puzzled. “I’ve tried to see it, yes, but whenever I look your future is different.”
“And another thing.” Kate had taken a few steps, then paused. “Is that true what Vala says? Is she your mother?”
Urizen laughed outright. “Now that’s a very interesting question! You’ll have the answer to it if and when you are one of us.”
*
The book was printed from twenty-seven plates laboriously prepared by William’s own process. It had been months in preparation, during which time William not once turned his skill to the production of anything that would put bread on the table, though Kate, who was now quite skillful at the cutting of plates, had prepared several illustrations that had met with approval among the publishers. She told them the work was William’s; they expressed delight that William’s work had suddenly taken a turn for the better. His line, they said, was freer, and more important, the work was done on time.
The book, William’s book, was printed in a limited edition by William himself, each page rubbed against the inked plate with the back of a spoon. A limited edition? Ten copies. No more.
And Kate did not dare to suggest that these ten copies be offered for sale. Once printed they all, save one, were locked in a trunk, to be occasionally taken out so that one illustration or another could be hand-painted with watercolor paints.
The one which was not locked away William delighted in reading aloud, over and over, to her.
And though Kate hated every word of this book, she let him read, listening at first, then later, when she’d all but memorized it, pretending to listen.
She endured it all, because of the look on his face, the look that seemed to say, “You’ve taken Eternity away from me. Can’t I keep my silly little hobby?”
The title of the book was “The Marriage of Heaven and Hell.” William had not signed it, and it would have been an act of plagiarism if he had, for the thoughts expressed in it were not his own, but Urizen’s.
Why did Kate hate “The Marriage of Heaven and Hell”? Here are a few quotes from it:
“Rintrah roars and shakes his fires in the burdened air.”
That is how it began. Later on appeared the following “Memorable Fancy.”
“As I was walking among the fires of hell, delighted with the enjoyments of genius, which to angels look like torment and insanity, I collected some of their proverbs, thinking that as the sayings used in a nation mark its character, so the proverbs of hell show the nature of infernal wisdom better than any description of buildings or garments.”
“Let us look at some of these infernal proverbs.
“The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.
“He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.
“What is now proved was once only imagined.
“Everything possible to be believed is an image of truth.
“You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.
“As the caterpillar chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys.
“Sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires.”
And this last, which William took special pleasure in reading to her:
“Let man wear the fell of the lion, woman the fleece of the sheep.”
The work continued with attacks on the priesthood and on orthodox religion, blasphemous words put into the mouths of the prophets Isaiah and Ezekiel, a visit to the printing-house of hell, and tales of the victories of devils over angels. In one of these tales the Devil argued: “If Jesus Christ is the greatest man, you ought to love Him in the greatest degree. Now hear how He has given His sanction to the law of the Ten Commandments. Did He not mock at the Sabbath, and so mock the Sabbath’s God? Murder those who were murdered because of Him? Turn away the law from the woman taken with adultery? Steal the labor of others to support Him? Bear false witness when He omitted making a defense before Pilate? Covet when He prayed for His disciples, and when He bid them shake off the dust of their feet against those who refused to lodge them? I tell you, no virtue can exist without breaking these ten commandments.”
And in the story the angel, swayed by these arguments, became a devil.
William wrote:
“This angel, who is now become a devil, is my particular friend; we often read the Bible together in its infernal or diabolical sense, which the world shall have if they behave well. I also have the Bible of Hell, which the world shall have whether they will or no.”
Kate was a patient woman, but finally she could keep silent no longer.
They were in the kitchen, seated opposite each other at the table, and William had just finished reading again the phrase, “This angel, who is now become a devil, is my particular friend.” He looked up at her expectantly, the candlelight dancing on his face revealing an expression she did not recognize as his own; Urizen’s expression.
She began uncertainly, “This angel who has become a devil… that’s Urizen, isn’t it?”
He slapped his palm on the table exultantly. “Ah ha! So you understand after all. I’d begun to think I was reading to a stuffed owl!”
She laid down her graver and the illustration she’d been cutting, regarding him seriously. “And Urizen, you say, is your particular friend?”
“What else can I call someone who offers me, as a gift, absolute freedom?” There was a madness in his large eyes she had not noticed before, and it worried her.
“I thought it was I, Mr. Blake, who was your particular friend.”
“You’re my wife.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“Not at all! One loves a friend because one wishes to, but one loves one’s wife because one must.”
The hardness in his voice hurt her more than his words, though they were bad enough in themselves. For a moment a pain constricted her chest so she could not speak. Fighting back the impulse to break into tears, she said, “That’s clever talk, Mr. Blake, but I doubt if you’d be saying such things if we were close, like other married folks.”
“Close? What do you mean?”
“Well, you know, Mr. Blake. In bed.”
William leap to his feet. “In bed? Are you telling me that after all these years you’re finally offering up to me your virginity?”
“Mr. Blake! I was always willing! It was you what didn’t want to!”
“I can’t believe it! Kate Blake, the woman who always goes to church on Sunday, never missing a day! She’s a common whore under it all, selling her body like any bawd on a streetcorner!”
“A whore? Mr. Blake, that’s a lie!”
“Who are you then, Mrs. Blake? Are you Helen of Troy? Are you Cleopatra? Who are you that I should trade the world and all eternity for you? You’re a whore I said, and I say it again, but much too expensive a whore for a poor man like myself.”
He turned and strode from the room.
She did not cry, but sat motionless for some time, then picked up her illustration and graver and tried to go on with her work.
She had to give it up.
Her hands were shaking too much.
*
CHAPTER FIVE… 1791
Kate’s engravings were more popular than William’s had ever been, though she continued to maintain the fiction that it was William who was doing them. Commissions were plentiful and well-paid, and the Blake family celebrated its prosperity by moving to new and better lodgings at 13 Hercules Buildings, Lambeth, in Surrey.
