All thoughts had flown. Only occasionally does human beauty so transcend all that one knows.
7
Living Refound
AS THE SUN entered the lives of his unknown benefactors, and of himself, Titus longed to renew the grasp, so long subdued, that he held on life.
He no longer felt it necessary to assert ‘I am me – I am Titus’.
The old woman, who was a part of his life now, nodded her head with pleasure at every new gesture he made, as he found his way from his bed to the door unaided, as he sang, as he twirled her gently and slowly in his arms, round and round the stone floor in a dance that brought back to her, inevitably, echoes of a long-distant youth.
The silent woman, with her huge eyes, sat still as an Eastern goddess on a bench by the open door, and when his newfound vigour expended itself her hand moved imperceptibly to take his, as he seated himself beside her.
‘Is it love?’ he wondered. But the need to make recompense was uppermost now; in a practical way to repay the care given to him so generously by people to whom poverty was as much a part of living as being born and dying. The two pallet beds had been the only resting place for the tired limbs of the old woman, and the shepherds and huntsmen whose voices he had heard. The generosity of the poor knew no bounds. And now, at last, Titus knew to whom he was beholden – the faceless and the generous ones who had given, with no expectancy of return.
He forced himself outside for the first morning. The lit world nearly annihilated him, but he slid down the grass slopes longing to give of all that was within him; to thank in a physical way.
He ploughed into life, as though it was water, diving and coming up again into the air, breathing life, new and rare. He sought sounds. He traced them down a small path, hedge-lined, where small birds nested, until he came to an open space where he saw men with two-handed saws, working through, rhythmically, huge boles of trees. They were surrounded by the neat, stacked results, like intricate piles of matches, but these would not fall at a touch.
Titus joined the men. They clapped as they saw him, and he indicated by a gesture, so learned was he in mime, that he also wished to take one of the saws.
An elderly man, stained by the elements and wrinkled, stood aside, and also by a gesture indicated to Titus that he could take his place.
Everything that is mastered appears to the spectator to be easy in execution and Titus, with the ebullience of an amateur, took hold of the saw that had been given up to him. At a word, quite incomprehensible to Titus, from the man at the other end of the saw, he started to move his arms. He had seen the rhythm and the ease, and he thought that he, too, would slip into the same movements, but he was clumsy to the point of self-embarrassment, and the saw wriggled like a worm under his inexpert guidance. He felt an arm take hold of him, rather as a mother might guide her child in the use of a pencil, and with immense patience his arm was gently moved, backwards and forwards, in duet with the man at the other end, who urged Titus on.
Very gradually the rhythm came to him, but at the same time the physical exertion overwhelmed him. As he sank to the carpet of mossy grass in exhaustion he felt the strong arm that had held his behind the saw slowly change to a soft loving arm. He turned to see the two black pools enveloping him and a dew of pride overflowing down the pale cheeks.
He was ashamed of his weakness and almost roughly edged his hand away as he strove to rise again from beside the girl. His arms ached with the new-forced exertion. His body was weak and his brain angry with frustration.
He knew that he had exerted himself as much as his tired body was capable of, and he crept back to his bed, humbled, and lay with his arms over his face to shut out what he thought of as his defeat.
8
Life Can Be a Miracle
AS THE ELEMENTS became more clement, Titus’s growing strength engendered in him an awakening of all his senses. He became aware of the awe-inspiring beauty of the mountains that surrounded him, snow-laden at their tips and brilliant green as they gently swam downwards to deep fir-lined valleys. Everything around him was a miracle. The small mountain flowers, the sounds of water, birds and human voices and the mild sun overhead generated not only warmth, but also a sense of renewal in the act of living.
Titus went every day to the clearing and each day he became a little more expert at manipulating the double-handed saw. There was no verbal communication, just the rareness of being one with the men with whom he worked. His muscles became hard and his face lost its pallor.
Inside the hut the girl’s beauty grew no less haunted, but it had the recognition of love in it. She had taken it upon herself to relieve the old woman of the harder household tasks. When there was a rabbit to be skinned, she would seat herself at the bare scrubbed table and skin it. No one knew what feelings she may have had in undertaking this macabre task. Chickens and birds of many varieties she plucked, with knowledge gained from her old mentor, and she took the task of cooking upon herself.
When the weather was mild enough the food was brought outside. Home-made bread was dipped in the stews and the wooden plates wiped clean with it. Each meal was received with the graceful acknowledgements of hand-clapping, and sometimes one of the men would sing, melancholy and haunting, or a man and a woman would dance with slow, intricate steps, their bodies hardly moving, while the watchers moved their hands like sighs.
A man with a musical instrument, made by himself during the long and dark winter, jumped into the circle like a jack-in-the-box, and as he played, a round of girls and boys, and men and women, danced with primitive pleasure.
Titus realised that it was also for him to contribute. He felt untalented. He could not sing, play an instrument or even dance. With a quick jump he entered the circle, and the cream-coloured dog who had attached itself to him followed him like a shadow.
He held it upright on its hind legs, and to the bizarre music of the old musician he danced round and round and round, like a top spinning, until he was so dizzy that he lost all sense of balance and fell with little grace on to the moss, and his canine friend lay panting beside him.
The applause that greeted him echoed down the mountains, and he rose and bowed with a clown-like foolishness, and led his canine partner, and stood it on its hind legs once more, and bowed its head so deep that it almost lost its dignity.
Titus bowed again and, with the humour he had for so long forgotten to be a part of his life, waddled out of the circus, his feet forming one straight line holding the right paw of his cream-furry friend who sped like a startled willow warbler.
The days followed each other in the wonderment of spring and inevitably to a young man this wonderment of nature could not contain itself in looking alone. In Titus, also, the sap rose, and the pangs of desire led him to the girl with whom he could hold no communication. He wanted more.
In the beauty of these spring evenings he led her to a small clearing he had discovered, surrounded by blackthorn in which there were nests woven as though by a master craftsman. All around them the newborn rabbits scuffled and darted about. There, on the moss, he made love to her and those eyes that still devoured him. Was it love or the physical necessity that impelled him almost to desecrate a body? Her body was compliant, yet seemed to have known a suffering to which Titus shut his eyes.
As spring gave way to summer, her emaciated body became fuller and carried within it his child. He realised he had no wish to spend his life with this woman, but he knew that what little decency he had should wait its term.