Voyage to Arcturus

by David Lindsay

  "Perhaps there is such another world," said Polecrab huskily. "But did that vision also seem real and false to you?"

  "Very real, but not false then, for then I didn't understand all this. But just because it was real, it couldn't have been Surtur, who has no connection with reality."

  "Didn't those drum taps sound real to you?"

  "I had to hear them with my ears, and so they sounded real to me. Still, they were somehow different, and they certainly came from Surtur. If I didn't hear them correctly, that was my fault and not his."

  Polecrab growled a little. "If Surtur chooses to speak to you in that fashion, it appears he's trying to say something."

  "What else can I think? But, Polecrab, what's your opinion - is he calling me to the life after death?"

  The old man stirred uneasily. "I'm a fisherman," he said, after a minute or two. "I live by killing, and so does everybody. This life seems to me all wrong. So maybe life of any kind is wrong, and Surtur's world is not life at all, but something else."

  "Yes, but will death lead me to it, whatever it is?"

  "Ask the dead," said Polecrab, "and not a living man."

  Maskull continued. "In the forest I heard music and saw a light, which could not have belonged to this world. They were too strong for my senses, and I must have fainted for a long time. There was a vision as well, in which I saw myself killed, while Nightspore walked on toward the light, alone."

  Polecrab uttered his grunt. "You have enough to think over."

  A short silence ensued, which was broken by Maskull.

  "So strong is my sense of the untruth of this present life, that it may come to my putting an end to myself." The fisherman remained quiet and immobile.

  Maskull lay on his stomach, propped his face on his hands, and stared at him. "What do you think, Polecrab? Is it possible for any man, while in the body, to gain a closer view of that other world than I have done?"

  "I am an ignorant man, stranger, so I can't say. Perhaps there are many others like you who would gladly know."

  "Where? I should like to meet them."

  "Do you think you were made of one stuff, and the rest of mankind of another stuff?"

  "I can't be so presumptuous. Possibly all men are reaching out toward Muspel, in most cases without being aware of it."

  "In the wrong direction," said Polecrab.

  Maskull gave him a strange look. "How so?"

  "I don't speak from my own wisdom," said Polecrab, "for I have none; but I have just now recalled what Broodviol once told me, when I was a young man, and he was an old one. He said that Crystalman tries to turn all things into one, and that whichever way his shapes march, in order to escape from him, they find themselves again face to face with Crystalman, and are changed into new crystals. But that this marching of shapes (which we call 'forking') springs from the unconscious desire to find Surtur, but is in the opposite direction to the right one. For Surtur's world does not lie on this side of the one, which was the beginning of life, but on the other side; and to get to it we must repass through the one. But this can only be by renouncing our self-life, and reuniting ourselves to the whole of Crystalman's world. And when this has been done, it is only the first stage of the journey; though many good men imagine it to be the whole journey… As far as I can remember, that is what Broodviol said, but perhaps, as I was then a young and ignorant man, I may have left out words which would explain his meaning better."

  Maskull, who had listened attentively to all this, remained thoughtful at the end.

  "It's plain enough," he said. "But what did he mean by our reuniting ourselves to Crystalman's world? If it is false, are we to make ourselves false as well?"

  "I didn't ask him that question, and you are as well qualified to answer it as I am."

  "He must have meant that, as it is, we are each of us living in a false, private world of our own, a world of dreams and appetites and distorted perceptions. By embracing the great world we certainly lose nothing in truth and reality."

  Polecrab withdrew his feet from the water, stood up, yawned, and stretched his limbs.

  "I have told you all I know," he said in a surly voice. "Now let me go to sleep."

  Maskull kept his eyes fixed on him, but made no reply. The old man let himself down stiffly on to the ground, and prepared to rest.

  While he was still arranging his position to his liking, a footfall sounded behind the two men, coming from the direction of the forest. Maskull twisted his neck, and saw a woman approaching them. He at once guessed that it was Polecrab's wife. He sat up, but the fisherman did not stir. The woman came and stood in front of them, looking down from what appeared a great height.

  Her dress was similar to her husband's, but covered her limbs more. She was young, tall, slender, and strikingly erect. Her skin was lightly tanned, and she looked strong, but not at all peasantlike. Refinement was stamped all over her. Her face had too much energy of expression for a woman, and she was not beautiful. Her three great eyes kept flashing and glowing. She had great masses of fine, yellow hair, coiled up and fastened, but so carelessly that some of the strands were flowing down her back.

  When she spoke, it was in a rather weak voice, but full of lights and shades, and somehow intense passionateness never seemed to be far away from it.

  "Forgiveness is asked for listening to your conversation," she said, addressing Maskull. "I was resting behind the tree, and heard it all."

  He got up slowly. "Are you Polecrab's wife?"

  "She is my wife," said Polecrab, "and her name is Gleameil. Sit down again, stranger - and you too, wife, since you are here."

  They both obeyed. "I heard everything," repeated Gleameil. "But what I did not hear was where you are going to, Maskull, after you have left us."

  "I know no more than you do."

  "Listen, then. There's only one place for you to go to, and that is Swaylone's Island. I will ferry you across myself before sunset."

  "What shall I find there?"

  "He may go, wife," put in the old man hoarsely, "but I won't allow you to go. I will take him over myself."

  "No, you have always put me off," said Gleameil, with some emotion. "This time I mean to go. When Teargeld shines at night, and I sit on the shore here, listening to Earthrid's music travelling faintly across the sea, I am tortured - I can't endure it… I have long since made up my mind to go to the island, and see what this music is. If it's bad, if it kills me - well."

  "What have I to do with the man and his music, Gleameil?" demanded Maskull.

  "I think the music will answer all your questions better than Polecrab has done - and possibly in a way that will surprise you."

  "What kind of music can it be to travel all those miles across the sea?"

  "A peculiar kind, so we are told. Not pleasant, but painful. And the man that can play the instrument of Earthrid would be able to conjure up the most astonishing forms, which are not phantasms, but realities."

  "That may be so," growled Polecrab. "But I have been to the island by daylight, and what did I find there? Human bones, new and ancient. Those are Earthrid's victims. And you, wife, shall not go."

  "But will that music play tonight?" asked Maskull.

  "Yes," replied Gleameil, gazing at him intently. "When Teargeld rises, which is our moon."

  "If Earthrid plays men to death, it appears to me that his own death is due. In any case I should like to hear those sounds for myself. But as for taking you with me, Gleameil - women die too easily in Tormance. I have only just now washed myself clean of the death blood of another woman."

  Gleameil laughed, but said nothing.

  "Now go to sleep," said Polecrab. "When the time comes, I will take you across myself."

  He lay down again, and closed his eyes. Maskull followed his example; but Gleameil remained sitting erect, with her legs under her.

  "Who was that other woman, Maskull?" she asked presently.

  He did not answer, but pretended to sleep.


  Chapter 15

  SWALONE'S ISLAND

  When he awoke, the day was not so bright, and he guessed it was late afternoon. Polecrab and his wife were both on their feet, and another meal of fish had been cooked and was waiting for him.

  "Is it decided who is to go with me?" he asked, before sitting down.

  "I go," said Gleameil.

  "Do you agree, Polecrab?"

  The fisherman growled a little in his throat and motioned to the others to take their seats. He took a mouthful before answering.

  "Something strong is attracting her, and I can't hold her back. I don't think I shall see you again, wife, but the lads are now nearly old enough to fend for themselves."

  "Don't take dejected views," replied Gleameil sternly. She was not eating. "I shall come back, and make amends to you. It's only for a night."

  Maskull gazed from one to the other in perplexity. "Let me go alone. I would be sorry if anything happened."

  Gleameil shook her head.

  "Don't regard this as a woman's caprice," she said. "Even if you hadn't passed this way, I would have heard that music soon. I have a hunger for it."

  "Haven't you any such feeling, Polecrab?"

  "No. A woman is a noble and sensitive creature, and there are attractions in nature too subtle for males. Take her with you, since she is set on it. Maybe she's right. Perhaps Earthrid's music will answer your questions, and hers too."

  "What are your questions, Gleameil?"

  The woman shed a strange smile. "You may be sure that a question which requires music for an answer can't be put into words."

  "If you are not back by the morning," remarked her husband, "I will know you are dead."

  The meal was finished in a constrained silence. Polecrab wiped his mouth, and produced a seashell from a kind of pocket.

  "Will you say goodbye to the boys? Shall I call them?" She considered a moment.

  "Yes - yes, I must see them."

  He put the shell to his mouth, and blew; a loud, mournful noise passed through the air.

  A few minutes later there was a sound of scurrying footsteps, and the boys were seen emerging from the forest. Maskull looked with curiosity at the first children he had seen on Tormance. The oldest boy was carrying the youngest on his back, while the third trotted some distance behind. The child was let down, and all the three formed a semicircle in front of Maskull, standing staring up at him with wide-open eyes. Polecrab looked on stolidly, but Gleameil glanced away from them, with proudly raised head and a baffling expression.

  Maskull put the ages of the boys at about nine, seven, and five years, respectively; but he was calculating according to Earth time. The eldest was tall, slim, but strongly built. He, like his brothers, was naked, and his skin from top to toe was ulfire-colored. His facial muscles indicated a wild and daring nature, and his eyes were like green fires. The second showed promise of being a broad, powerful man. His head was large and heavy, and drooped. His face and skin were reddish. His eyes were almost too sombre and penetrating for a child's.

  "That one," said Polecrab, pinching the boy's ear, "may perhaps grow up to be a second Broodviol."

  "Who was that?" demanded the boy, bending his head forward to hear the answer.

  "A big, old man, of marvellous wisdom. He became wise by making up his mind never to ask questions, but to find things out for himself."

  "If I had not asked this question, I should not have known about him."

  "That would not have mattered," replied the father.

  The youngest child was paler and slighter than his brothers. His face was mostly tranquil and expressionless, but it had this peculiarity about it, that every few minutes, without any apparent cause, it would wrinkle up and look perplexed. At these times his eyes, which were of a tawny gold, seemed to contain secrets difficult to associate with one of his age.

  "He puzzles me," said Polecrab. "He has a soul like sap, and he's interested in nothing. He may turn out to be the most remarkable of the bunch."

  Maskull took the child in one hand, and lifted him as high as his head. He took a good look at him, and set him down again. The boy never changed countenance.

  "What do you make of him?" asked the fisherman.

  "It's on the tip of my tongue to say, but it just escapes me. Let me drink again, and then I shall have it."

  "Go and drink, then."

  Maskull strode over to the tree, drank, and returned. "In ages to come," he said, speaking deliberately, "he will be a grand and awful tradition. A seer possibly, or even a divinity. Watch over him well."

  The eldest boy looked scornful. "I want to be none of those things. I would like to be like that big fellow." And he pointed his finger at Maskull.

  He laughed, and showed his white teeth through his beard. "Thanks for the compliments old warrior!" he said.

  "He's great and brawny" continued the boy, "and can hold his own with other men. Can you hold me up with one arm, as you did that child?"

  Maskull complied.

  "That is being a man!" exclaimed the boy.

  "Enough!" said Polecrab impatiently. "I called you lads here to say goodbye to your mother. She is going away with this man. I think she may not return, but we don't know."

  The second boy's face became suddenly inflamed. "Is she going of her own choice?" he inquired.

  "Yes," replied the father.

  "Then she is bad." He brought the words out with such force and emphasis that they sounded like the crack of a whip.

  The old man cuffed him twice. "Is it your mother you are speaking of?"

  The boy stood his ground, without change of expression, but said nothing.

  The youngest child spoke, for the first time. "My mother will not come back, but she will die dancing."

  Polecrab and his wife looked at one another.

  "Where are you going to, Mother?" asked the eldest lad.

  Gleameil bent down, and kissed him. "To the Island."

  "Well then, if you don't come back by tomorrow morning, I will go and look for you."

  Maskull grew more and more uneasy in his mind. "This seems to me to be a man's journey," he said. "I think it would be better for you not to come, Gleameil."

  "I am not to be dissuaded," she replied.

  He stroked his beard in perplexity. "Is it time to start?"

  "It wants four hours to sunset, and we shall need all that."

  Maskull sighed. "I'll go to the mouth of the creek, and wait there for you and the raft. You will wish to make your farewells, Gleameil."

  He then clasped Polecrab by the hand. "Adieu, fisherman!"

  "You have repaid me well for my answers," said the old man gruffly. "But it's not your fault, and in Shaping's world the worst things happen."

  The eldest boy came close to Maskull, and frowned at him. "Farewell, big man!" he said. "But guard my mother well, as well as you are well able to, or I shall follow you, and kill you."

  Maskull walked slowly along the creek bank till he came to the bend. The glorious sunshine, and the sparkling, brilliant sea then met his eyes again; and all melancholy was swept out of his mind. He continued as far as the seashore, and issuing out of the shadows of the forest, strolled on to the sands, and sat down in the full sunlight. The radiance of Alppain had long since disappeared. He drank in the hot, invigorating wind, listened to the hissing waves, and stared over the coloured sea with its pinnacles and currents, at Swaylone's Island.

  "What music can that be, which tears a wife and mother away from all she loves the most?" he meditated. "It sounds unholy. Will it tell me what I want to know? Can it?"

  In a little while he became aware of a movement behind him, and, turning his head, he saw the raft floating along the creek, toward the open sea. Polecrab was standing upright, propelling it with a rude pole. He passed by Maskull, without looking at him, or making any salutation, and proceeded out to sea.

  While he was wondering at this strange behaviour, Gleameil and the boys came in sight, walking al
ong the bank of the inlet. The eldest-born was holding her hand, and talking; and the other two were behind. She was calm and smiling, but seemed abstracted.

  "What is your husband doing with the raft?" asked Maskull.

  "He's putting it in position and we shall wade out and join it," she answered, in her low-toned voice.

  "But how shall we make the island, without oars or sails?"

  "Don't you see that current running away from land? See, he is approaching it. That will take us straight there."

  "But how can you get back?"

  "There is a way; but we need not think of that today."

  "Why shouldn't I come too?" demanded the eldest boy.

  "Because the raft won't carry three. Maskull is a heavy man."

  "It doesn't matter," said the boy. "I know where there is wood for another raft. As soon as you have gone, I shall set to work."

  Polecrab had by this time manoeuvred his flimsy craft to the position he desired, within a few yards of the current, which at that point made a sharp bend from the east. He shouted out some words to his wife and Maskull. Gleameil kissed her children convulsively, and broke down a little. The eldest boy bit his lip till it bled, and tears glistened in his eyes; but the younger children stared wide-eyed, and displayed no emotion.

  Gleameil now walked into the sea, followed by Maskull. The water covered first their ankles, then their knees, but when it came as high as their waists, they were close on the raft. Polecrab let himself down into the water, and assisted his wife to climb over the side. When she was up, she bent down and kissed him. No words were exchanged. Maskull scrambled up on to the front part of the raft. The woman sat cross-legged in the stern, and seized the pole.

  Polecrab shoved them off toward the current, while she worked her pole until they had got within its power. The raft immediately began to travel swiftly away from land, with a smooth, swaying motion.

  The boys waved from the shore. Gleameil responded; but Maskull turned his back squarely to land, and gazed ahead. Polecrab was wading back to the shore.

  For upward of an hour Maskull did not change his position by an inch. No sound was heard but the splashing of the strange waves all around them, and the streamlike gurgle of the current, which threaded its way smoothly through the tossing, tumultuous sea. From their pathway of safety, the beautiful dangers surrounding them were an exhilarating experience. The air was fresh and clean, and the heat from Branchspell, now low in the west, was at last endurable. The riot of sea colors had long since banished all sadness and anxiety from his heart. Yet he felt such a grudge against the woman for selfishly forsaking those who should have been dear to her that he could not bring himself to begin a conversation.