Eden River

by Gerald Bullet

  Tell me the story, said Naban. Tell me. And when the story was told he exclaimed with shining eyes: If you won’t stay with us here, Larian, I will go with you to your country, and see Kelimuth your daughter, who is so beautiful. I’m sure I shall love her very much, and I expect she’ll love me, don’t you? Then she’ll forget about her baby. Forget, forget, cried Larian: do you spend all your time forgetting? Come if you like, Naban; but it may be they will kill you when we get to my own people. Kill, what is that? asked Naban. It is what Cain would have done to Kelimuth’s baby, said Larian. But Naban, it seemed, had not understood that part of the story; nor perhaps had Kirith, for she could conceive no possible danger in his going with Larian where he would.

  15

  Next morning, with Naban for company, Larian came to the river that now divided her from Cain’s country, and memories rose up in her of that first exodus from Eden, and particularly of how she had stood on the bank watching Cain and Zildah and Zildah’s baby moving away from her in the boat. Where are your boats? she asked Naban. He did not understand her, and would have talked of other things; but when she began to explain the nature of boats, and to tell how Abel had been the first (and perhaps the last) to make one, he plied her with questions, hungry for every detail she could remember of the boat’s construction; and she had much trouble to persuade him that to build a boat would take many days and perhaps more skill than he and she could muster between them. Even then he was reluctant to abandon the project, nor could he understand that time was precious to her. Have you lost your wish to see Kelimuth? Larian asked him. But this, too, was beyond his understanding. Where was the hurry? In his lively young fancy Kelimuth had already a palpable existence, and he already loved her; but having no sense of time’s undeviating flow, and lacking that knowledge of mortality which drops a tincture of fear into all human love and sharpens the edge of absence, he could have postponed his first sight of her indefinitely and with an easy mind. Larian, however, wise in her dealings with children, weaned him from his dream of navigation by asking him if he thought he could swim across the river, or was it too far for him? He laughed at the absurdity of the doubt, Abel and his boat being in a moment forgotten. Come along, I’ll show you. We’ll swim together, shall we? And Larian, encumbered though she was by her modest skirt and by the more grievous burden of her years, smiled with relief and entered the water eagerly.

  By crossing the river they left Eden behind them, and Larian was glad, though as yet the journey was scarcely more than well begun. Beyond the river lay a wood, and beyond the wood a wide green plain, and beyond the plain seven hills dotted with myrtle and juniper. Darkness came swiftly down on them as they descended the seventh hill, and it was in darkness, going hand in hand, that they reached the outskirts of the Forest of Nod. And still the camp of Cain and his people was distant by a long day’s journey. Rest could no longer be postponed: Larian was in bitter need of it, and even Naban, who talked much and freely, taking a deep delight in every minute of his adventure into unknown territory, began to show signs of fatigue, though for pleasure in his new friend he was ready to humour her inexplicable whim by going on and on without complaint wherever she led. But now, unable to go further, she lay down in a sheltered place and made ready for sleep. Naban lay down beside her; the two became immersed in a timeless dark; and presently, after a long silence had passed between them, he drew amorously near to her, candid and unthinking. Whereat, warm with kindness, she took him in her arms saying: Lie still, child. Have you forgotten my Kelimuth already? She could not but know, she who remembered her girlhood’s Eden, that such a question could have no meaning for such as he; and finding him restless in her embrace she sought to distract him by telling of her fear that wild beasts would find them in the night and tear them to pieces. To justify that fear she told him how one of the children of Zildah had been so destroyed, and of how the sons of Cain were wont to go hunting in this very forest. Naban listened without comprehension and asked many questions; but after a while his voice grew drowsy and at last ceased, and Larian, listening to his quiet breathing, knew that he was asleep.

  Larian’s fear of wild beasts, though genuine enough and not ill-founded, did not keep her long awake; but her sleep was troubled by dreams in which other fears visited her, and waking in the early morning she was more eager than ever to hurry on and put those fears to the proof. Naban, waking like a child in a new world, charmingly agreed to do whatever she wished, though the need for haste was not apparent to him: renewed by sleep, he was blissfully content with his situation and ready to walk on for many days in this new country and with this new friend. Larian complaining of hunger, he would not rest till he had found, among these many trees, one tree yielding fruit that she would eat: the search took time, for the plenty of Eden was lacking here, and many of the trees were of a kind strange to him, and strangely barren. But his labour was rewarded at last; he shared with Larian such a meal as he had often shared with his kindred in Eden; and, having taken her fill, Larian had more heart for the journey. Not till high noon did they begin to think again of their bellies; and it was during this second meal, which had been preceded by a delighted display of his tree-climbing prowess, that Laban returned, unexpectedly, to the subject of Larian’s dress. Why, he asked, do you carry that thing tied about you? She was put to shame by the words and her glance fell, afraid to meet his wide-eyed stare. In my country, she said, we all cover ourselves. Unable to cite him any reason except reasons which would seem to him fantastic beyond belief, she added simply: It is Cain’s wish. And, a new thought striking her, she said: Let’s see if we can’t make one for you. Would you like one, Naban? He pondered the question. Perhaps. I don’t know. What does it feel like? A plan flashed into his mind and he greeted it with a laugh of pleasure. Yes, yes. Give me yours, Larian. Tie it round me. Then, if I like the touch of it, you will shew me how to make another. She lifted her downcast eyes and smiled at his enthusiasm, and with sudden dread she asked herself to what fate she was leading this innocent. Nevertheless she sent him in search of mandanus leaves, which, strung together on the tough flexible tendril of a climbing plant, furnished him with a skirt or apron sufficiently like her own to satisfy him. He walked round and round her, admiring her work; and when she fastened the garment about his middle he submitted with delight, and was loud in praise of her cleverness. But look, he said. Here is a woman coming. Is she one of your people, Larian? Is she Kelimuth?

  In the fraction of time that passed before Larian could look, and see that it was indeed Kelimuth who came, the mother’s heart grew sick with its sudden excess of expectation. But the words of her greeting betrayed little feeling. What are you doing, Kelimuth, so far from home? She hardly listened to the answer, being filled with the longed-for sight and with the knowledge that Kelimuth was still alive. That anxiety appeased, another waxed big in her mind, and her embracing arms grew slack and released the girl. Kelimuth, your baby is alive and happy. Now tell me of your father Cain. But I have already told you, said Kelimuth. It was he who drove me from the camp. Drove you? said Larian. Drove you with his own hand? No, mother, it was his dark looks that drove me away. But he is himself? asked Larian. He is not ill? Kelimuth shrugged her shoulders. He is himself, mother. He eats and sleeps, and he’s our father as he always was. But my baby, where is he? The little one is safe, said Larian, and the lion of the holy mountain is his friend and his foster-mother. What do you mean? cried Kelimuth. And when Larian came to that point in her story where she must tell how the child was suckled by the lioness, she saw a cloud pass over the girl’s face and divined that her heart was divided between gratitude and jealousy. And so, to distract her, she interrupted the narration by saying: Naban will tell you the rest. He has come with me a great distance and we have had much talk together.

  Naban had watched the women with grave attention, admiring the great beauty of Kelimuth, and utterly forgetful of himself. Her face, in the variety of its expressiveness, was unlike the face of any other wo
man he had seen: unlike even Larian’s, being so young, though like hers in that there seemed to be a story written upon it. When Kelimuth, at her mother’s words, turned to meet his stare, there was that in her eyes that moved him beyond desire and beyond happiness. Naban is kind, said Larian. Go with him, my pigeon, and let him tell you what is left of the story. I want to be alone for a little while. I shall stay here and rest. For Larian had spent all her strength in fear and hope and had nothing left for rejoicing, and she wished these young ones safely out of sight so that she need no longer strive against her tears.

  16

  When the storm that was in her had spent itself, she sat staring at the past from which she had travelled to this moment, and at the lonely road by which she must leave it; and when presently, through her dream, she saw that Naban and Keli-muth were standing in front of her, she spoke to them in a strange voice, saying: I have lived long and seen much, and the things I see now are far away. The family of Adam is divided and shall be divided again many times. And men will follow dark ways; famine and pestilence and madness will come upon them, so that they will turn their hands against each other, and the rivers will run with blood. Yet some among the sons of men shall remember Eden, and spend themselves in search of it.

  Kelimuth, seeing that Larian was entranced, said urgently: Mother, we’ve come back to you. Yes, said Larian, you’ve come back. She rose wearily to her feet. And I’ve come back, too, from my long journey. Have we been long away from you, mother? asked Kelimuth. Naban has been telling me so many things.

  And Larian smiled on them both, and taking a hand of each she joined them, saying: You are content with each other? So joined, the boy and the girl stood before her in a trembling ecstasy, for until now no touch had passed between them. And Larian, seeing them transfigured with the glory and humility of young love, was herself all but content. So for you, she said, there’s a new life beginning. But tell me, Kelimuth: how far is this place from home? The sun was there when I left the camp, answered Kelimuth, pointing: and now he is there. Then I must go quickly, said Larian, before night comes again. Yes, she said, answering Kelimuth’s startled look, I must go back. For you, Kelimuth, it would be unsafe. For Naban it would be death. But my place is with Cain. I shall tell him that your baby was destroyed by the lion of the mountain.

  It was in Larian’s mind that perhaps Cain would kill her nevertheless, because she had stolen away from him while he slept. But there it is, she told herself stubbornly: I can’t rest till I see him.

  BY THE SAME AUTHOR

  novels

  THE QUICK AND THE DEAD

  MARDEN FEE

  THE PANDERVILS (EGG AND NICKY)

  THE PANTHER

  MR GODLY BESIDE HIMSELF

  THE PROGRESS OF KAY

  short stories

  HELEN’S LOVERS

  THE WORLD IN BUD

  THE BAKER’S CART

  THE STREET OF THE EYE

  for children

  REMEMBER MRS MUNCH

  THE SPANISH CARAVEL

  essays and anthologies

  THE ENGLISH GALAXY

  THE TESTAMENT OF LIGHT

  DREAMING: AN ESSAY

  MODERN ENGLISH FICTION

  ETC

  TO MY FRIEND R. B.

  This electronic edition published in 2011 by Bloomsbury Reader

  Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square, London WC1B 3DP

  Copyright © 1934

  The moral right of author has been asserted

  All rights reserved

  You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this

  publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation

  electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise),

  without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any

  unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution

  and civil claims for damages

  ISBN: 9781448204304

  eISBN: 9781448203710

  Visit www.bloomsburyreader.com to find out more about our authors and their books

  You will find extracts, author interviews, author events and you can sign up for

  newsletters to be the first to hear about our latest releases and special offers