The Village on Horseback: Prose and Verse, 2003-2008

by Jesse Ball

  — But you didn’t, said the Judge.

  He moved as if to pat Carr on the shoulder. Carr pulled away.

  — As you will, said the Judge.

  He pointed to the cloth on the hood.

  — Do you know what that cloth is for?

  — No.

  — It’s for infants. Infants get wrapped in it when you take them home from the hospital. My wife bought it when she knew she was pregnant. Feel how soft it is.

  He took the cloth and held it out to Carr. Reluctantly, Carr touched the cloth. It was very soft indeed.

  The Judge threw it back onto the hood.

  He took an envelope from his coat.

  — This one, he said, is for you. Good day.

  the seventh

  Carr went straight home, and though it was early afternoon, shuttered the windows, lay down and was soon asleep.

  A loud knocking at the door: THE WIFE OF THE JUDGE was standing in the hall.

  Leon Carr?

  She was wearing a thin wool dress with the same open tweed coat. Her cheeks were gaunt. Carr had never expected to see her. He had not arranged in his head any policy for how he would speak or act.

  — I’m so sorry, said Carr. I’m sorry, I. .

  She took his hand in hers and looked patiently into his face.

  Carr felt almost like crying, so kindly did she treat him.

  — I’m sorry, he said again. Come in and sit down.

  Then it occurred to him that perhaps she might not want to come in.

  — Is that all right? he asked. Would you rather stay out there?

  — No, no, she said. Here.

  She came into Carr’s room. She took off her coat and sat on the bed. She was staring at him and staring at him. Her dress was very thin, and he felt very much for her then. He felt he should not, but he did and he looked at her, there, seated on his bed.

  — I don’t know what to say.

  He tried to think of something kind to say. He felt that because Lubeck and Brennan and Harp were dead the guilt had not gone away but was concentrated all on him.

  But she drew him down to the bed beside her and took his hand. She slid it along her side and up onto her breast. She leaned in.

  Her face was along his neck. She kissed him softly.

  — It’s all right, she murmured. It’s all right.

  His hand was along her and on her. In a moment, she had pulled her dress off over her head. She was pulling on his pants. She was on top of him. Her hair shrouded the room, and her lips were at the corner of his mouth.

  They lay together there, in the bed, smoking.

  — I suppose I should tell you, she said. There was no miscarriage.

  She got out of the bed and put her dress back on. Carr was sitting with his eyes closed.

  What did you say? asked Carr.

  — There was no miscarriage. It was just a reason for my husband to fight you. He felt the honor of young men isn’t what it used to be, and if there weren’t some serious reason, you wouldn’t bear up.

  She put on her coat.

  — I’m just telling you, she said, because you seem kind of nice, and I feel bad about the whole thing. If you like, you don’t have to fight him. You can just go. Don’t feel guilty, that’s all I’m saying.

  — This is. .completely. . why didn’t you come sooner? Do you just let your husband. .? Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

  Carr jumped up out of the bed and began to pace back and forth. She was by the door.

  — Anyway, she said. Thanks for the good time. The whole situation made this rather intimate.

  Carr looked at her helplessly.

  — My friends are dead, he said.

  — I’m sorry about that.

  She opened the door and went out, leaving it open.

  He went to the door.

  — My friends are dead!

  But the hallway was empty. Her footsteps sounded away down the stairs.

  Now he was in the hall and she was gone.

  They say that in a heavy storm one shouldn’t be beneath trees for fear of lightning. Also they say don’t go into an open field. This is very confusing, as, when I have on occasion been in a place of fields and trees during heavy rain and lightning, I become completely confused. At what point do I stay away from the trees? At what point from the fields? Do I dig a hole in the ground? Do I need to keep a little shovel with me for rain storms? In such a hole wouldn’t the rain collect and drown me? That’s not so much better and, in fact, would be much the same because I have heard that the bodies of people killed by lightning are bloated in a similar way to those found after a drowning.

  Yes, Carr could not fix his mind particularly on anything. How senseless! What should Carr do? He felt very surely that he should go and shoot the Judge. Why had the Judge won the other duels? Because the others had felt guilty. They had let themselves die. Except for Harp, who was treacherous. Yes, he had been treacherous, because he had thought they had killed the Judge’s child, and yet he had still gone on as if they were in the right. What if I were to go to the Judge’s house and kill him in the night? Would that be the right thing? And now he had slept with the Judge’s wife. Ordinarily a rather bad business, it seemed not to count for anything now.

  He would confront the Judge. He would go to the Judge’s house, confront him, and then tomorrow morning shoot him to death at the duel.

  He felt very good about this resolution. He dressed, put on his coat and called for a cab to take him to the Judge’s house.

  The Judge’s house was, as you might suppose, quite a fine affair. Already the cab was there. He hadn’t even remembered getting in. And then he got out.

  He felt immediately dwarfed by the house. This is one of the techniques of the very-wealthy. They make anyone who comes to visit them feel by virtue of architecture that he or she is a supplicant. I am not a supplicant, thought Carr. I am the aggrieved. I accuse.

  He went up the steps. A man was standing at the top wearing a very comprehensive servant costume. Perhaps the man was a servant.

  — I’m here to see the Judge.

  — He doesn’t know it, said the man.

  — All the same, said Carr. I’ll have my way. I have to see him.

  — What you must do, and what will happen: they’re not the same thing, said the man. It’s my job to see the Judge isn’t disturbed. All kinds of people come here after the Judge decides criminal cases. They feel they have been dealt with unfairly.

  He pursed his lips, then continued.

  — Unfairly, fairly. Who’s to say that? Why, the Judge. That’s why he’s a Judge. So, whatever it is that you’re here about, why don’t you just run along.

  He returned to his initial pose.

  — Listen, said Carr. I want to see the Judge. I’m going in through the door one way or another.

  — Well, said the man. If you are going to go, I won’t stop you. But, I assure you, there are others more determined than I who are waiting inside.

  Carr walked past the man and through the front doors of the house.

  Inside, was a long entrance hall. A coatroom was on one side, with a man standing behind a counter. Before the doors that opened into the house, another man waited. Both wore the same servant-costume as the first man.

  — Coat, said the first man.

  Carr gave the man his coat. He felt like not doing it, but he did it anyway. In giving in to even one of these people’s demands, he felt he was giving up some initiative. Nonetheless, he gave up his coat.

  — Hold on a second, said Carr.

  The man brought the coat back and held it out to him.

  Carr reached into one of the pockets and took something out.

  The man smiled encouragingly at him in a rather nasty way. Carr sneered in return, but then thought better of it. He didn’t want his coat mistreated.

  — I’ll be back for that.

  — If you’re not, said the man, we’ll throw it away.

  He held the coat mincingly
in his fingers as though he preferred not to touch it.

  Carr turned and walked to the next door.

  — Not so fast, said the doorman, smirking meanwhile at the coatroom attendant.

  — Not so fast, he said again.

  Both broke into laughter.

  — I need to see the Judge, said Carr.

  — Don’t let me stop you, said the doorman.

  Carr went to go through the door. He tried to turn the handle. The door was locked.

  — The door is locked, he said.

  Both men broke into fits of giggling.

  — Do you have a key? he asked the doorman.

  — Do I have a key? the doorman asked the coatroom attendant.

  — Yes, of course, he has a key. He’s the doorman.

  Both continued their giggling.

  — Listen, said Carr. I need to get through that door.

  He grabbed the doorman roughly and started to shake him. The man was very weak and small, and was hauled nearly off his feet.

  — All right, all right, said the man. Here’s the key.

  He gave the key to Carr.

  Carr put the key into the lock and turned it. The doorman, loosed from Carr’s grip, ran down the hall.

  — You’ll get it for this, he said.

  Carr remembered his coat. He started back for it.

  No, he thought. They’ll think I’m weak if all I’m worried about is my coat. And also, he thought, that man is a coatroom attendant. They must have some sort of code by which they never let anything bad happen to coats. Otherwise, on what might their pride be based? He decided to rely upon this coatroom attendant’s code, and he went on through the door.

  On the other side was a broad, curving, interior staircase. To the left a broad hall that passed by him and went off a ways to the right, just past a wide fireplace.

  Where to go? thought Carr.

  A girl in a maid’s uniform was carrying folded sheets.

  — Oh my, she said.

  — Where is the Judge?

  — I couldn’t say, she said. But no one can go around unaccompanied in this house.

  She dropped the sheets and ran to the wall. There was a bell-pull there. Carr caught her just in time, pulling her back. He had caught the back of her dress and it tore open. She lunged again for the bell-pull and it tore the rest of the way. He was forced to grab her about the waist.

  Laughter came then from the stairs.

  Carr spun around, still holding the girl, who now clung to him just in her underwear and torn-off dress.

  On the stairs stood the Judge’s wife and also three servant-men.

  — You have quite an appetite, said the Judge’s wife.

  Carr let the girl go. She clung to him now all the same.

  — What are you doing? he said. Get off me.

  — First you assault me, she said, and now that you’ve ruined my virtue you want to get rid of me. I won’t have it.

  She held on tight. The girl was a bit too much for Carr.

  — Get off me, he said, and shook her off.

  — That’s no way to treat her, said one of the servants.

  — What’s the big idea? said another.

  — I just came to speak to the Judge.

  Everyone began to laugh.

  — A fellow like you, speak to the Judge!

  A more ridiculous statement they had never heard.

  — What’s the idea in coming here? said the Judge’s wife.

  To the servants, then:

  — Throw him out.

  She turned and went back up the stairs. The servants came down towards him.

  Carr picked up a poker from the fireplace.

  The servants eyed him warily.

  — I’m going up. You can’t stop me.

  And then his arms were caught up from behind. Someone had snuck up on him. The servants came up and took the poker from his hand. One slugged him in the stomach. He keeled over. They struck him a few more times and he blacked out. Then, he was lifted hand and foot and taken back out the front where they threw him unceremoniously on the ground.

  Yes, that’s where he was, mouth all full of dirt.

  The servants had gone back inside.

  Carr ran up the steps and into the house. He ran past the coatroom attendant and into the house proper. He ran up the front stairs and searched through the rooms on the upper floor. There were many rooms of every size and description. People were in some, and they shrieked and made horrified noises as he burst in and out. He ran and ran down the hall, which went on for perhaps one or two miles. He was continually forced to stop, heaving and gasping for air, before running on again. Behind him, in the distance, he could make out pursuit.

  I must look quite a horror, he thought, covered in dirt and running about.

  At the end of the hall was another stair. Up that stair he went and found himself in the countryside. It was a broad glad day and there was singing of birds in the air. A party of young men were coming along the crest of a hill. He went to meet them.

  — We’ve just come back from the war, they said.

  — The war is over, they said.

  — Come and sit with us.

  There were proud young women with them, and all were wrapped up in chains of flowers and summer grasses.

  Over and over they kept saying it, it gave them such joy on their mouths to say it, the war is over, the war is over.

  Carr laid on his back and it was then he remembered about his coat. He had forgotten it. He was on his way to, on his way. .

  He was standing again outside the mansion. The door was locked.

  A cab pulled up. A slot in the house’s front door slid open. The coatroom attendant stuck his head through.

  — That’s your cab, he said. Best to leave now. Here’s your coat.

  He stuffed the coat through the narrow slot. Carr took it. It was not the same coat at all. This was a coat he had lost once when changing trains, at least ten years before. This coat was far too small for him.

  — Thank you, said Carr.

  — Don’t thank me, said the coatroom attendant. I’m not your friend.

  The slot slid shut.

  Was he outside Lubeck’s house? Lubeck’s mother was there, shepherding her children about. He could see her through the window. Then she saw him.

  He was inside, and looking at her.

  — Oh, this won’t do, she said. You’re such a mess. Come children.

  So all the children took Carr to a great, castiron bathtub and together they all bathed him and washed him, and when he got out a fresh set of Lubeck’s clothing was sitting there waiting for him. He put the clothing on. It was a rather nice pinstripe suit. The children gamboled and danced around him.

  — Now you are clean and we shall talk, said Lubeck’s mother.

  Lubeck’s stepfather was also present.

  — It’s much better to gather yourself before important conversations, he said. It just won’t do for you to go about like a filthy animal. We don’t live in caves, you know. Not anymore.

  Carr explained what had happened to him.

  Both were horrified. Around them danced and sang the uncomprehending little children.

  — The man must be shot! resolved Lubeck’s stepfather. I will go and be your second tomorrow.

  — Thank you, said Carr.

  — But this business at the house, said Lubeck’s mother. And this business with the Judge’s wife. Why did you take her up to your room and have-to-do with her?

  Carr shifted uncomfortably.

  — I just felt so guilty, he said. I didn’t know what to do.

  — Is that what you do when you don’t know what to do?

  Lubeck’s mother and stepfather exchanged a look.

  — What about this servant girl, asked Lubeck’s stepfather. What did she look like with her clothes off?

  — Stop it, you, said Lubeck’s mother. That’s about enough of that.

  They walked Carr to the door, pattin
g him on the shoulder and back and commiserating with him. They all felt very keenly the loss of Lubeck and Brennan. To be fair, they were not so sad about Harp.