Now, God’s truth, he still doesn’t know. But suddenly he’s had his fill for the day. He does not want to see any more. He does not want to be shown one of the other rooms. He doesn’t want to see the woman in chains and the hanged man. He asks Jakobus to take him to Iggy’s room, and that’s that. Nothing more.
The view from here onto the mountain is beautiful indeed. There’s not much in the room, it looks a little like a monk’s cell. A bed, neatly made. An open wooden cupboard with a few largish boxes, two suitcases, containing a few pieces of clothing — of which some look suspiciously like women’s clothing. A wooden table with a clean surface, a mug, a plate, a few items of cutlery. Everything sparkling clean. A 500 gram tin of Ricoffy, a box with rooibos teabags. A kettle. A candle in a candlestick. A Bible. The typewriter on which he typed the letter to Karl. On the floor, a pair of women’s shoes — high-heeled — neatly lined up. On the wall, a small photo of their father.
‘Where are Ignatius’s paintings?’ he asks.
‘He burnt them all one morning. Josias was afraid he’d set fire to the whole place eventually. He threatened a fire that would destroy everything here.’
He doesn’t know why Iggy came here, he tells Jakobus. ‘What attracted him to this place?’
Jakobus reflects. First rolls a cigarette. ‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘There is as much good as negative energy here. Sometimes it doesn’t take much to tip the scale.’
*
Jakobus says he’s welcome to overnight here in Iggy’s room. He declines politely but firmly. If he had to stay here, in Iggy’s room, with the little photo of their father on the wall, the scale might just tip for him as well.
*
He overnights in a hotel in the city and the next morning goes to visit Iggy in the institution. Hardly slept, he was so tense. Misery, he thinks. Misery with a capital M. And he hasn’t even seen Iggy yet.
It’s just as well that Juliana is in Johannesburg at the moment, and not here, because otherwise the temptation to get in touch with her would have been strong. That wouldn’t be a good idea, because if she were to see him in this God-awful condition, it would just mess up his chances with her even further.
Jakobus offered to accompany him, but he said it’s okay. He thinks it’s better if he goes on his own. Perhaps not too good for Iggy to see an emissary from the farm.
He announces himself at the hospital. Well, hardly a hospital. A psychiatric hospital — an institution for mentally disturbed people. With gardens and benches and God knows miles-long passages, and unfamiliar smells that don’t appeal to Karclass="underline" a blend of reheated food, Jik and medicine. He is accompanied by a nurse who takes him to Iggy’s room.
At the door he sends up a quick prayer: Please let it not be too bad.
Iggy is lying on his back in the bed. A drip in his arm for intravenous feeding. Steel cot. There is nothing in the room. Bars at the window, as in a jail. He is heavily sedated, says the nurse behind him. Karl asks if he can spend some time with his brother. Not too long, says the woman, turns on her sensible hard-soled heel, and closes the door behind her.
Karl walks up to the bed. On the bedside table are Iggy’s glasses.
‘Iggy,’ he says softly.
Iggy’s eyes are closed. He’s wearing striped hospital pyjamas; he looks so thin, so deathly pale. But his light hair is still growing thick and luxuriantly on his head. Pig’s bristle, their mother used to say when she rubbed her hand over Iggy’s head.
Karl bends over Iggy. Calls his name again softly.
‘Iggy,’ he says, a bit louder, and shakes him gently by the arm.
Iggy slowly half-opens his eyes. It looks as if it takes him a few minutes to focus. Then he recognises his brother. (Oh joy. Karl feared that he might be too far gone.) Iggy smiles slightly — such a forlorn, tremulous little smile. He tries feebly to sit upright slightly, but he’s too heavily sedated and falls back on the pillows. He tries to say something, but his tongue is heavy, he can’t shape the words. He closes his eyes again.
‘I’m here,’ says Karl. ‘You needn’t worry any more, Iggy, you must just get better.’
Iggy opens his eyes slightly again and tries to say something.
Karl sits down on the bed by his brother. Now a torrent of words is released in him — all the anxiety, all the pent-up fear and resistance of the last few days.
‘Iggy,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get here. I should probably just have flown down. There were all sorts of unnecessary interruptions on the way. I’ll tell you one day. All kinds of bizarre things cropped up. But now I’m here. I met Josias Brandt and Jakobus Coetzee. I don’t know about Josias, I truly don’t know, but Jakobus is very supportive. He showed me your room and so on. Lovely view of the mountain. Sorry — I shouldn’t even mention that place now. I read your letter, Iggy. It must have been terrible, the things you went through. You should have let me know sooner. We could have made a plan to get you out of there. But don’t worry about it, you’ll never go back there. The Headman and whoever else are something of the past. It’s over. That chapter is closed. Nobody will torment you again.’
Iggy lies motionless, only his hands twitch from time to time. Sometimes it looks as if he’s on the point of opening his eyes, but as if the exertion is too great.
‘Iggy,’ says Karl, ‘as soon as you’ve recovered, and you feel like coming with me, I’m coming to fetch you. You can come and stay with me for a while at any time. Do you know, on the way here I didn’t really attend that closely to the things around me. I was too upset. I’m in any case not all that tuned into nature, but I suppose I could have been more attentive. We could perhaps make a good trip of it back. This time I’ll be able to attend more closely. I was too cut up, I was too tensed up about you, Iggy. I didn’t know what the hell to expect. I’m so glad you’re alive. Don’t worry, Iggy. The evil or whatever you want to call it has been conquered. A new era is dawning, I’m sure of that. You’re safe. We can take our time driving back, because I think the Karoo is actually very beautiful, it’s just that I wasn’t in any condition to enjoy it. Though I did stop at the Orange River. The water flowed so quietly and broadly under the bridge. We can buy a book on bats. You were always interested in animals, more than me. Different kinds of animals. Mammals. I’m sure there’s a lot to see, if you take your time and open your eyes. You could say I sped through the landscape with my eyes shut. There must be lots of little animals — jackals and tortoises, probably little buck too, and meerkat and polecat. Pa told us about the different kinds of polecat. I saw only one or two dead jackals and tortoises next to the road, and strange black worms, on their way to hell knows where. To and fro across the road. Jesus, I was in a state, but now everything is actually okay again. Now you must just get better.’
Karl jabbers on in this manner, not knowing whether Iggy can hear him. It doesn’t matter, he has to reassure himself in this way, not only his brother.
Shortly afterwards the nurse comes to fetch him, it’s time.
Later that morning he talks to the doctor. A Doctor Linsom. (Karl at first hears: Doctor Lonesome.) A small man with hairy arms and a high, raspy voice. But at least he’s friendly. What’s the prognosis? Not good. Iggy is suffering from serious delusions. He may have to stay here for quite a while. Perhaps even be given shock therapy, if ordinary medication doesn’t do the trick.
Back in his car Karl thinks of what the Joachim-chap with the beetroot claw said: Iggy is very close to the abyss. His soul, his being, is imperilled, he’s on the brink of a bottomless abyss. He is fighting for the survival of his soul. He may already have had too long an intimate conjunction with the other side. The empire of the demons — something like that. Oh Lord, thinks Karl, what if what the guy said is true. What if just some of it is true?