Still, that frustration might be coming to an end. It could be that Erspia-5’s moon would be the end of the projector station’s manic search.
He had eaten breakfast before he discovered that Histrina was not in any of the sleeping chambers. The gown given her by Nellie Fong was missing, too. She had left the station.
Outside, men worked in the fields, as before. They waved to him. Brio Fong was not among them, however. Laedo walked into the village and took himself to the Fongs’s house.
The two youngest Fong children were playing on the doorstep. The door was ajar. Laedo knocked politely and peered within.
Histrina was already there, assisting Nellie, who was dressing the quiet young girl Laedo had noticed the day before. She was clearly being prepared for a special occasion, not in everyday wear, but in a shiny dress of bright colours, flounces and frills. The two older children were sitting beside their father, watching in silence.
The girl in the dress appeared to be almost in a state of shock.
“We’re getting Helsey ready for the Festival of Light!” Histrina announced gaily as Laedo entered.
“Oh, indeed, this is her special day,” Nellie Fong added with pride, fussing with pins and tucks.
So that was it. The girl had been chosen to play a role in a religious ceremony. Evidently she was nervous of the attention she was to receive, which to a shy young girl could be intimidating.
Don’t love the third one. Laedo thought he had an explanation now. There must be a myth or legend which made every third child especially favoured by Voluptus, so much so that it rendered the parents’
love almost superfluous.
The fitting finished, Nellie combed out Helsey’s long, fair hair and tied it with ribbons. Brio and the older children clapped and complimented her. She did indeed look pretty, but Laedo wished she would smile occasionally.
Helsey was put back in her drab brown smock while Nellie settled down to stitch the tucks in the ceremonial dress. Brio had taken the day off from his work and cuddled and hugged his daughter often, in a touching display of affection.
“You are attending the Festival yourselves, aren’t you?” Nellie insisted to Laedo and Histrina. “After all, it only comes once a year.”
Laedo assumed the years were measured by the harvests, unless Klystar had arranged a climatic cycle for Erspia-5, which was unlikely.
“Of course!” Histrina promised eagerly.
Fatalistically Laedo agreed. Some time soon he wanted to visit the planetoid’s moon, but he was in no hurry.
Despite Histrina’s apparent good behaviour, he kept an eye on her for the rest of the day. Once or twice he attempted to engage Helsey in conversation, but the child seemed to have developed a need to be no more than a foot or two away from at least one of her parents: a clinging desire more typical of a worried two year old.
As ever the Fongs were all hospitality, gladly including their guests in the midday meal, which was a lamb roast lovingly prepared by Nellie, accompanied by mixed vegetables and followed by a sweet pudding.
The afternoon became an idyllic family scene. Laedo more than once observed Brio wipe a tear from his eye as he watched his daughter being fussed over by her mother. Whenever Helsey looked particularly strained, Nellie would stroke her hair and whisper in her ear, at which the child would utter a relieved giggle, only to relapse into silent sadness shortly afterwards.
The regular work of the community finished early that day. Instead an activity was undertaken on a grassy field, on the opposite side of the village from Butterly Meadow. A platform was erected, overlain with a deep blue cloth. Meantime straw was carried from a barn and spread all over the field.
Consequently there was no congregating in the drinking hall that evening. Laedo and Histrina retired to the projector station, talked for a while, then slept.
The next day dawned warm and bright. There had been no rain to wet the straw or spoil the proceedings—a fact of which the villagers seemed to have been aware in advance. Brio had advised them that the main ceremony would take place at mid-morning. After that, he added, with a brief twinkle in his eye, the festival would begin.
Following a leisurely breakfast, Laedo and Histrina set off. The village was deserted, every door closed.
From the distance they could hear music, and on coming to the meadow, saw musicians on the blue-clad platform. There were two violins, a large wooden flute, and a type of harmonium. Though not played very expertly, the instruments achieved an organ-like effect, reminding Histrina of the sort of music that was played in the chapel in her own village of Courhart. The entire adult population of the village was by now trampling the hay that was strewn on the meadow, but surprisingly Laedo could see no children in the crowd. The musicians finished their session and were replaced on the platform by a plump, round-faced man in an untypical garb of scarlet knee breeches and purple waistcoat. Raising his face to the sky, he began to harangue in a nearly shouting voice.
“Lord Voluptus! We thank you for your many gifts! Forgive us our sins, and guide us so that we may know your love in our hearts! Receive now the service of our little ones and bestow upon us the pleasure of your beneficence!”
There was more in the same vein, and Laedo soon stopped listening to it. He noted that the moon, putative dwelling place of Voluptus, had moved directly overhead. At length the speaker concluded his prayer, lowered his head, and gestured into the crowd.
The only children to be present, Helsey and three others around the same age, were brought forward and lifted on to the platform, where they stood together in a line: two little girls and two little boys, all finely turned out in their special clothes. The gathering fell back, creating a space in front of the platform. Laedo could see the Fongs near the front. Their faces were pinched and strained.
Dead silence prevailed, until suddenly one of the boys began to blubber. The composure of the others broke at this. Helsey Fong imploringly held out her arms.
“Mommy! Daddy! I don’t want to go! I want to stay with you!”
No reply came. The air around the children was misting, forming a bubble about each of them.
Amazingly, their feet lifted off the platform. They were levitating, like puppets being raised up on strings.
The movement was slow at first, but very soon it accelerated. The children were whipped up into the sky.
Towards the moon.
In seconds they had dwindled and disappeared.
Don’t love the third one. Laedo now realized how wrong his explanation had been. The saying was not a meaningless relic of some half-remembered legend. It was a response to a real situation.
Disease-ridden societies of the past, with high infant mortality, had preached a similar wisdom: don’t love your children until they reach the age of ten. Because at least half of them will be dead before then.
The Fongs were relaxed now that the ordeal was over. The tension was gone from their faces. Brio was uncommunicative, but confirmation came easily from the talkative Nellie. Every family’s third child was elevated to the Heavenly Mansion of Pleasure on reaching the age of seven, and lived there in perfect happiness, forever and ever. Just what that happiness consisted of was vague. “Oh, every kind of delight and pleasure,” was all Nellie would say. “But above all, how wonderful to serve the Lord Voluptus!”