The Fall of Chance

by McGowan, Terry

  He rolled his find down to where the mill would be and left it as a kind of marker. He then continued his excavations until he was satisfied the weight of water would provide enough pressure.

  Unt now turned his attention to the mill. With the smaller stones he’d dug out, he built a column that would house the wheel axle. He then built a wooden shell to surround the machinery. All the while, he puzzled over how he would get the job finished.

  On the day he was putting the final touches to the roof, he heard a cry of “Look out!” from up the hill. He looked up to see a dark shape bearing quickly down on him. He didn’t have time to see what it was or to get out the way. It shot past and struck a nearby tree and it was only then that he saw what it was.

  It was a mill wheel. He looked up the hill and saw the Wizard gambolling down toward him. The Wizard rarely ran and when he did, he was hunting. This was something else entirely. He was coming down the steep slope in such a head-long rush he was almost slipping.

  Unt reached out an arm to stop him and then looked at the wheel. It was beautiful. Unt had thought he’d have to make a rough shape with lots of short edges but the Wizard had made a true circle. He must have warped the wood so that it hugged the meaty spokes. The paddles round its edge must have been secured tightly because they hadn’t come off after rolling down hill and smacking into a tree.

  “You made that?” asked Unt, awed.

  “Yep,” said the Wizard, too pleased with himself to even be ungracious.

  “It’s wonderful.”

  “Yes it is.”

  * * * *

  From that point on, the Wizard became more of an equal partner in the project. He was invaluable in making the mechanism that would turn the wheel’s motion into a grinding action for the stone. Unt worked with him and soon the mill building was finished.

  “Right, what’s left?” asked the Wizard as they ate a meal to celebrate their success.

  “The sluice gates,” said Unt. “We’ll need one to release the water out of the reservoir and another to let us control the flow of water into it.”

  The Wizard grunted. “We’ll need hinges then. Damn tricky metalwork are hinges.”

  “Can you make them?”

  “I didn’t say I couldn’t, did I? Tell you what, you get yourself over to my bookshelf and bring me over the blue volume.”

  Unt went over to the corner of mouldy books as instructed. The shelf had always been a bit of a mystery to Unt. It was the only place in the camp where the Wizard didn’t tell him to always help himself. He’d never expressly told Unt to keep off it but Unt had always got the impression he shouldn’t go near.

  There was only one blue book on the shelf. On its own, it probably wouldn’t have been identifiable as blue, it was so washed and faded, but next to it was a red book and that made the original colour clear.

  Unt took the blue book and flicked it open. It was filled with hand-written notes and diagrams on all sorts of practical things. Unt hadn’t seen the Wizard’s handwriting before but knew by the short, waspish style that it had to be his. He realised it was the sum total of the Wizard’s knowledge. Everything he was was laid out in this book.

  As Unt leafed through, he saw it was a chaotic mixture of random topics. Like its author, it was a collection of bursts of intensity. There was no logic behind the layout. ‘Eclectic’ would be a generous term. It would take ages to find the correct section without the Wizard’s help.

  Unt was about to return to the fireplace but the red book caught his eye. Presumably, it was just another book like the first but there was something about it that was calling him. Unt sensed that he shouldn’t look. He didn’t need to and there were better times to try and get a peak but still, it demanded to be read.

  He stole a guilty look over his shoulder - a thrilling, unpleasant emotion he’d almost forgotten. The Wizard was busying himself with something or other. His back was turned from Unt and he was hunched intently over whatever it was he was doing. Unt snatched the book and opened it.

  The yellowed pages didn’t have diagrams. They were solid blocks of text, each roughly half a page long. Every block was preceded by a header with numbers and words. Unt recognised them as dates, even though he didn’t recognise the calendar.

  The book had fallen open at a particular place as though this were a page often turned to. Unt’s eye was drawn to an entry written in a bolder hand, the passion involved imprinted in the script. He read:

  October 21st

  It’s three weeks since she left. She said she’d be with me always and now she’s gone. No note, no nothing. Only today have the pieces started to come together. I saw Sally in the street today. She looked like she wanted to run away so I went over and had a chat, pinned her. I could see she knew something but didn’t want to let on. I wondered what she might have told her friend and then I realised: Sally’s a midwife.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” A banshee screech ripped his ear.

  A bony hand clawed the book from him. The force of the tug spun him round to face the Wizard. The old man was filled with a white fury deeper than Unt had ever seen.

  “I’m sorry, Unt stammered, “I-”

  “What the hell gives you the right to go looking through people’s things?”

  “I didn’t realise.”

  “Didn’t realise what colour blue is? It’s that one there. The one you laid aside to go snooping.”

  “I didn’t know I wasn’t to look.”

  “I don’t want you watching me have a shit but I don’t need to tell you not to, do I?”

  The Wizard hefted the book like a weapon, as though he might beat Unt’s brains in with it. It was such an animal rage Unt doubted he could even reason.

  “I’m sorry!” he tried again, desperately. “Honestly. I thought it was just like the other one.” Unt believed himself at that moment.

  It was enough to make the Wizard waiver for a heartbeat, a tiny influence that deflected the juggernaut of his anger.

  “Damn it boy, I told you the blue one.”

  “And it was such good stuff I thought this must be more like it.”

  The Wizard lowered the book. “Say I take you at your word. Why didn’t you close it the second you saw what it was?”

  “How could I know what it was before I read it?”

  “The dates,” said the Wizard, “The entries. What else could it be?”

  “I don’t know.” Unt was genuinely perplexed and it must have showed because the Wizard softened a notch.

  “Well, it’s a diary of course, isn’t it?” The word sounded like a curse.

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  The Wizard frowned. “A diary? It’s a journal. A record of your thoughts?”

  “I don’t understand,” said Unt. “Why would someone write their thoughts down? Especially if they didn’t want others to see?”

  “To know your own mind,” said the Wizard, darkly.

  “But surely people know their own minds.”

  “Idiot,” said the Wizard, “What do I keep saying to you about the importance of looking after your own wellbeing? A diary is the preservation of the self. It sets down the boy you were and keeps it alive while you go on to become another man.”

  “But if you want to keep it, why be ashamed of it?”

  “Why? Because a man wants to better himself. The more he improves, the more he is appalled by the simplicity, vulgarity and blatant idiocy of his younger self.” He breathed. “Do you really have no diaries in that town of yours?”

  “We have the town record,” said Unt, “but we don’t have anything like that. Back home, paper’s a luxury. We mostly use it for business.”

  The Wizard snorted. “A sensible philosophy. How much did you see?”

  “Just one entry, I swear.”

  “What did you read? Actually no, don’t tell me. Just forget anything you saw.”

  Unt would have promised if he could but how could he say he’d make hi
mself forget? An empty promise would only work the Wizard up into fresh anger.

  The Wizard looked at him side-long and saw his genuine remorse. He looked at the book, then at the fire, then back at Unt. “You are never, ever to go in this bookshelf again,” he said. He pushed the book back into its place and stalked off outside.

  Unt was left holding the blue book. He’d thought that book held the essence of the Wizard but he was only half-right. This was only the total of his technical side: the red volume was the sum of his emotions. Together, they were the record of the man.

  Unknowing what to do, he drifted over to the fire and lay the blue book down. Whether it would get used now, only the Wizard could tell.

  Just then, the Wizard reappeared in the doorway. “Unt,” he said. Unt looked but the Wizard said nothing more.

  Had he come to apologise? It was unlikely but the old man was unpredictable. No; he just beckoned with his finger. Dutifully, Unt obeyed and followed the Wizard outside.

  Still, the Wizard said nothing. He just started walking and Unt joined in step beside him. They went up to the edge of the camp, up where the corn had been and where the turnips were now planted.

  The Wizard pointed at the patch where Unt had sewn his recovery crop. The leaves were all eaten and dead. “You chose your goal,” he said. “You took up with pointless, well-meaning distractions. And look at you now. You’re dead.”

  21. Decay

  Winter was setting in deep now. The Wizard shook Unt awake one morning with mist on his breath and announced that they were going fishing. “There’s nothing like fish to see you through a cold winter,” he said as they breakfasted on rock-hard bread.

  “Most times, the weather’ll do a good job of preserving it on its own,” he went on. Unt was happy to let him talk. The Wizard was always happier when he had a good rant in the morning. “On top of that, I tend to pack ‘em in salt.”

  “Now, don’t ask me where I got salt from. There’s a knack to getting it and I’ll show you another time but right now, I think we’ve got the opportunity to go one better.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Unt, as he was supposed to.

  “That monstrosity of yours, that millpond. What if we make it a fishpond, eh? Preservation’s all well and good but there’s no better preservative than being alive.”

  The mill project was something that was not really spoken of. The mill led to the diary and neither of them wanted to discuss that. The project was on hold. The sluice doors and their hinges had been left unmade. The one thing Unt had done was knock down the remaining earth between the stream and the reservoir. He had no idea why he’d done it. Perhaps it was because it made the project look finished but looking done was as far as it was going to get.

  Now the Wizard had taken the decision to break the taboo on the subject. It seemed the Wizard could do that, though Unt never could. The best thing to do was roll with it.

  “And how are we going to stock it?” Unt asked.

  “Two moons back, it was you who said we could use it for a fish store,” said the Wizard, now relinquishing ownership of the idea. “You tell me how you were thinking of doing it.”

  “I thought we might find a nursery and transport some eggs,” said Unt, “Or failing that, grab some breeding pairs and ferry them over in buckets.”

  “There’ll be no eggs or breeder at this time of year,” said the Wizard.

  “I didn’t think there would be.”

  “But carrying them over is a fair idea,” the Wizard allowed.

  “It’ll take a lot of traps,” said Unt.

  “Got any other plans?”

  “Apparently not.”

  “Good. Then let’s go fishing.”

  * * * *

  They actually had a good time. The Wizard knew a few good fishing spots and they covered them all. In some places, where the waters were still, they had to break through a thin ice before they could start.

  In the morning alone, they made a dozen trips up and down the mountain. Each time, they had two buckets and each one was mostly filled with water with two or three fish as well. They didn’t tire, though. Somewhere along the line, it had turned into a competition to see who could bag the most.

  By lunchtime, they’d added a dozen fish apiece to their living larder. They took food downhill to the river and they sat by the shore while they ate. The Wizard had decanted his latest batch of beer into some bottles and they chilled these in the icy river before drinking them.

  “This is the life,” said the Wizard and Unt didn’t disagree. “Do you remember this place? It’s where I found you. Just by that rock there.”

  Unt looked around. It was hard to believe this peaceful scene could have been his deathbed. “It’s lucky you happened by,” he said.

  “Lucky? It’s lucky you chose a good fishing spot to lie down in or else I’d never have found you.”

  “You were fishing?”

  “Supposed to be. Never thought I’d land a boy, though!” The Wizard actually shook with laughter.

  “I guess you’ve caught none bigger,” said Unt.

  “No, but there are some good-sized uns here.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yes. It’s all about quality, not quantity on this stretch.”

  “Tell you what, then,” said Unt, “Let’s draw a line under who can catch the most fish. Let’s see who can catch the biggest.”

  “I’ll wipe the floor with you,” said the Wizard.

  “Don’t be so sure,” said Unt.

  They went back to work, or rather, to play. Even the Wizard seemed to forget about stocking the millpond and focused on beating Unt. Unt saw him throw at least two fish back in the river.

  Unt himself took an early lead and bettered that with a second. The Wizard cursed but a little while later, he was dancing for joy. “Take a look at that!” he yelled. “Take a look at that!”

  Unt left his net to go and see, expecting to be underwhelmed. Instead, he was surprised. The Wizard had caught an enormous fish; as long as his leg.

  “She’s a beauty,” said Unt.

  “She’s too big for a bucket,” said the Wizard, rolling his prize in the net that had caught it.

  “You’re not wrong. Best get up the mountain quickly.”

  “And let you try and get one better?”

  “I’m not going to be able to beat that,” laughed Unt. “I concede defeat.”

  “You concede?”

  “Yes.”

  The Wizard thumped the air in triumph. “Victory is mine!”

  “Not if you let her die,” said Unt. “Let’s get going.”

  They went quickly. The Wizard had to wrestle with a massive, ungainly fish but Unt still had the two buckets he’d filled with his best prizes. The Wizard pulled away and by the time Unt reached the millpond, the Wizard was stood on the far bank, waiting.

  “Where’ve you been?” he called out. “Old Macey here’s as dry as a board.”

  “Chuck her in then,” Unt shouted back.

  “Not without due ceremony,” said the Wizard. He held his net aloft. “I declare this fish…supper,” he said and emptied the net.

  Unt wasn’t sure what happened then. Maybe the weight of the fish overwhelmed him. Maybe the bank was slippery. Whatever the reason, the Wizard tumbled in.

  He screamed as he went in the icy water. Unt laughed at first but quickly realised that the Wizard was in trouble. He dashed round the far side while the Wizard splashed desperately. He had fallen into the deepest section and now his heavy furs were pulling him down. Unt slid to the ground from a run, stretching his arm out to grab the Wizard’s. He plucked him by the wrist, one arm, then two, then he sat up, braced his legs and dragged the old man bodily out.

  Unt dropped the Wizard beside him then lay back a moment to catch his breath. He looked over at his companion. He was coughing and spluttering which was a good sign. Unt would have been more worried if he’d stayed still.

  “Are you all right?” he ga
sped.

  “Get me home!” the Wizard grumbled.

  Unt was about to tell him to get home himself but then he saw the Wizard was more than just wet. The impact with the freezing water had knocked something out of him, in moments it had aged him.

  Shock, thought Unt. It was best to get him indoors immediately. Wasting no time, he scooped the Wizard up, furs and all. They were heavy with water and that water would sap his body heat but Unt feared exposure if he stripped him. It wasn’t far to the cabin so he opted for getting to warmth first.

  He carried the Wizard in his arms, like a baby and the Wizard complained all the while. “It’s your fault with your stupid fish,” he said between shivers. “I should have stuck to my own council and done what I know works.”

  Unt let him talk. If it distracted the old man, so much the better. He was listening to the Wizard’s voice, hearing for sounds that the chill was settling deeper. The signs were getting less promising. By the time they reached camp, the Wizard was so bad Unt could barely understand him.

  The Wizard cursed as Unt caught his head when he carried him into the cabin. Unt took no notice and laid the Wizard on his bed. He whipped off the furs, then the underclothes and swaddled him in the warm, dry bedding.

  He looked around for other clothing. He was surprised and worried by how fast the cold had taken a grip. Normally, when people were exposed to the wet and cold you had a fair window to get them dry before the effects set in.

  But that was talking about young, fit people. When Unt took off the furs, he realised how old and frail the Wizard really was. Had he been like this when he carried Unt up the mountain or had he secretly been losing weight for months? By mutual consent, Unt and the Wizard always averted their eyes when the other was dressing. He’d never seen the man beneath the scaffold of skins.