An Acceptable Time

by Madeleine L'engle

  "He didn't say he was actually on his deathbed," Polly said. "He didn't give any time limits. Only that he wasn't likely to make law school. And that's at least a couple of years away."

  "It still sounds a little overdramatic to me."

  "Well, I thought so, too, but Karralys--"

  Dr. Louise spoke sharply. "Karralys is not a physician."

  "He's a druid," the bishop said, "and I take him seriously."

  "Really, Nason. I thought you were more orthodox than that."

  "I'm completely orthodox," the bishop expostulated. "That doesn't mean I have to have a closed mind."

  "Since when has this odd faith in druids been part of your orthodoxy? Weren't they involved in the esoteric and the occult?"

  "They strike me as being a lot less esoteric and occult than modern medicine."

  "All right, you two," Mr. Murry broke in.

  "And if you're going to have a swim before dinner," Mrs. Murry suggested, "have it. Did you two squabble when you were kids?"

  "We drove our parents crazy." Dr. Louise smiled.

  The bishop rose. He was a good foot taller than his sister. "But on the big things, the important things, we always stuck together. By the way, Louise, St. Columba speaks of Christ as his druid. You scientists can be terribly literal-minded. There's really not that much known about druids, and I think they were simply wise men of their time. Caesar considered that all those of special rank or dignity were druids."

  "Nase, let's go swimming." Dr. Louise was plaintive.

  "Of course. I'm running off at the mouth again. Alex, shall I change in your study?"

  "Fine. And Louise can have the twins' room. I'll just go out and bring in some more wood for the fire. It's a never-ending job."

  "I'll set the table," Polly said.

  Her grandmother was washing broccoli. "First thing tomorrow morning I'm going to take those Ogam stones off the kitchen dresser and put them outside somewhere. I'd move them tonight, but Alex and Nase--Nase particularly--would object."

  "Why?" Polly asked. "I mean, why move them?"

  "The kitchen dresser's cluttered enough already. Large stones are not the usual kitchen decor. And if that Ogam writing was carved into them three thousand years ago, they may have something to do with Anaral's and Karralys's ability to come to our time and our place. And your ability to go to theirs. I'll go out to the lab and get the casserole. It's one of my Bunsen Burner Bourguignons."

  As the door closed behind her grandmother, Polly remembered that Karralys had warned her of some kind of danger. In her concern for Zachary she had forgotten, and she did not take it very seriously because she could not believe that Tav with his laughter as he taught her Ogam, with his fingers gently kissing her hair, was any kind of menace to her.

  She opened a drawer in the kitchen counter and pulled out table mats, which she began to place on the table. Slowly she added silver, china, glasses. Had she ever studied English history? She thought back to some of the books, historical novels mostly, that she had read. Britain, she remembered, was made up of a lot of warring tribes in the early, pre-Roman days, and they impaled the heads of their enemies on poles and, yes, had practiced human sacrifice, too, at least in some of the tribes. Ugh. That was a time long gone, and a way of seeing the universe that was completely different from today's.

  She was folding napkins as her grandmother came in, bearing a steaming casserole.

  "Grand, do you have an encyclopedia?"

  "In the living room. It's the 1911 Britannica, which was supposed to be particularly fine. It's totally obsolete as far as science goes, but it should be all right for druids, if that's what you want to check out. It's on the bottom shelf, to the right of the fireplace."

  Polly got the encyclopedia, the D volume. There was only one page on the subject of druids. But yes, there was a mention of Caesar, the bishop was right. Druids went through extensive training, with much memorizing of handed-down wisdom. Anaral had told her that.

  Her grandmother called from the kitchen, "Found anything?"

  Polly took the volume and went into the kitchen. "Some. Druids studied astronomy and geography and whatever science was known in their time. Oh, and this is fascinating. There's a suggestion that they might have been influenced by Pythagoras."

  "Interesting, indeed." Her grandmother was slicing vegetables for the salad.

  "Oh, listen, Grand, I like this. Before a battle, druids would often throw themselves between two armies to stop the war and bring peace."

  "Armies must have been very small," her grandmother remarked.

  Polly agreed. "It's hard to remember in this overpopulated world that two armies could be small enough for a druid to rush in and stop war."

  "They were peacemakers, then," her grandmother said. "I like that."

  Polly read on. "Oak trees were special to them. I can see why. They're the most majestic trees around here. That's about it for information on druids long ago. Later on, after the Roman Empire took over, druids and Christians didn't get along. Each appeared to be a threat to the other. I wonder if they really were."

  "Even Christians are threats to each other," her grandmother said, "with misunderstandings between Protestants and Catholics, liberals and fundamentalists."

  "Wouldn't it be great," Polly suggested, "if there were druids to throw themselves between the battle lines of Muslims and Christians and Palestinians and Jews in the Middle East, or Catholics and Protestants in Ireland?"

  "And between Louise and Nason when they spat," her grandmother said, as the doctor and her brother came downstairs in bathing clothes, carrying towels.

  Polly put the encyclopedia away. She had learned a little something, at any rate.

  The bishop, evidently continuing a train of thought, was saying, "The people behind the building of Stonehenge were asking themselves the same questions that physicists like Alex are asking today, about the nature of the universe."

  Mr. Murry was coming in with a load of wood in a canvas sling. He set it down beside the dining-room fireplace. "We haven't come up with a Grand Unified Theory yet, Nase, not one that works."

  The bishop ambled toward the pool, his legs showing beneath his robe. "The motive was certainly religious--behind the building of Stonehenge, that is--more truly religious than the crude rituals and 'worship services' that pass for religion in most of our churches today."

  "Coming from one who has spent his life in the religious institution, that's a rather sad remark," his sister commented.

  The bishop opened the door, speaking over his shoulder. "Sad, perhaps, but true. And not to be surprised at. Come on. I thought we were going swimming."

  "And who's holding us up?" The two of them went through the door to the pool, shutting it carefully behind them.

  Mr. Murry put a sizable log onto the fire.

  "Polly looked druids up in the encyclopedia," Mrs. Murry said. "The article wasn't particularly enlightening."

  "We need more than an encyclopedia to explain Nase's opening a time threshold." Mr. Murry blew through a long, thin pipe and the flames flared up brightly. "And Polly's involvement in it. It's incomprehensible."

  "It's not the first incomprehensible thing that's happened in our lifetime," his wife reminded him.

  "Have things ever been as weird as this?"

  Her grandmother laughed. "Yes, Polly, they have, but that doesn't make this any less weird."

  Mr. Murry stood up creakily. "Polly's friend Zachary strikes me as adding a new and unexpected component. Why is this comparative stranger seeing people from three thousand years ago that you and I have never seen?"

  "Nobody told him about her," Mrs. Murry said, "so he didn't have time to put up a wall of disbelief."

  "Is that what we've done?"

  "Isn't it? And isn't it what Louise has done?"

  "So it would seem."

  "Remember Sandy's favorite quotation? Some things have to be believed to be seen? Louise doesn't believe, even though she's seen. Zach
ary, it would seem, has no idea what--or who--he has seen."

  Mr. Murry took off his glasses and wiped them on his flannel shirt, blew on them, wiped them again, and put them on. "Why on earth did I think that old age would mean less unexpectedness? Wouldn't a glass of wine be nice with dinner? I'll go down to the cellar and get a bottle." In a moment he came back up, carrying a rather dusty-looking bottle. "There's a dog barking outside."

  There was--a dog barking with steady urgency.

  "Dogs bark outside all the time," his wife said.

  "Not this way. It's not just ordinary barking at a squirrel or a kid on a bike. He's barking at our house." He put the bottle down and went out the pantry door. The dog kept on barking. "It's not one of the dogs from the farms up the road," he said as he returned. "And it doesn't have a collar. It's sitting in front of the garage and barking as though it wants to be let in."

  "So?" Mrs. Murry was wiping off the bottle with a damp cloth. "Do you want me to open this to give it a chance to breathe?"

  "Please. Louise thinks we ought to have another dog."

  "Alex, if you're going to let the dog in, for heaven's sake let it in, but remember we have company for dinner."

  "Polly, come out with me and let's study the situation. I agree with Louise. This house doesn't feel right without a dog. A dog is protection." He walked through the pantry and garage, and Polly followed him. In the last rays of light, a dog was sitting on the driveway, barking. When they appeared, it stood up and began wagging its tail hopefully. It was a medium-to-large dog, with beautiful pricked-up ears, tipped with black. There was a black tip to its long tail. Otherwise, it was a soft tan. Tentatively it approached them, tail wagging. Mr. Murry held out his hand and the dog nuzzled it.

  "What do you think?" he asked Polly.

  "Granddad, it looks like the dog I saw with Karralys." But Karralys had had a wolf rather than a dog with him that afternoon. She could not be sure.

  "He looks like half the farm dogs around here," her grandfather said. "I doubt if there's any connection. He's a nice-looking mongrel. Thin." He ran his hands over the rib cage and the dog's tail wagged joyfully. "Thin, but certainly not starved. We could at least bring him in and provide a meal."

  "Granddad." Polly put her arm about her grandfather's waist and hugged him. "Everything is crazy. I went back three thousand years, and Zachary saw Anaral, and--and--you're thinking of adopting a stray dog."

  "When things are crazy," her grandfather said, "a dog can be a reminder of sanity. Shall we bring him in?"

  "Grand won't mind?"

  "What do you think?"

  "Well, Granddad, she's pretty unflappable, but--"

  "I don't think a dog is going to overflap her." Mr. Murry put his hand on the dog's neck where a collar would be, and went into the garage, and it walked along with him, whining very softly, through the pantry, and into the kitchen, just as the Colubras were coming in the other direction, wrapped in towels.

  "I see you're taking my advice about another dog," Dr. Louise said.

  "Oh, my." Bishop Colubra's voice was shocked.

  Mrs. Murry looked the dog over. "He seems clean. No fleas, as far as I can tell, or ticks. Teeth in good condition. Healthy gums. Glossy coat. What's wrong, Nase?"

  "I'm not sure, but I think I've seen that dog before."

  "Where?" his sister asked.

  "Three thousand years ago."

  Chapter Six

  The silence in the kitchen was broken by Dr. Louise drumming on the table.

  Mr. Murry put a bowl of food by the pantry door. "Are you sure?"

  The bishop rubbed his eyes. "I could be wrong."

  Hadron, asleep on his scrap of rug, watched with one suspicious eye. The dog ate hungrily, but tidily. When it was finished, Hadron minced over to inspect the bowl, licking it for possible crumbs, while the dog stood, wagging its long tail.

  Mrs. Murry took an old blanket out to the garage. "He can stay there for tonight. If he's a dog from three thousand years ago, I don't want him to..." Her voice trailed off.

  Dr. Louise laughed. "If he's from three thousand years ago, do you think keeping him either in or out of the house would make any difference?"

  Mrs. Murry was chagrined. "You're right, of course. But somehow I feel he's freer to come and go if he's outside. For tonight, at any rate. Tomorrow we'll see. This evening we're going to sit around the table and eat a civilized meal with a very nice glass of burgundy." She washed her hands. "All right. We're ready. Let's gather round."

  The kitchen curtains were drawn across the long expanse of windows. The fire in the open hearth crackled pleasantly. The aroma of Mrs. Murry's casserole was tantalizing. It should have been a normal, pleasant evening, but it wasn't.

  "Bishop, tell us about the dog, please," Polly asked.

  He lifted his glass of wine so that the light touched the liquid and it shone like a ruby. "I'm getting old. I'm not sure. I'm probably wrong. But Karralys has a dog like that."

  "Yes," Polly agreed. "The first time I saw Karralys, by the big oak, there was a dog with him."

  "Was it that dog?" her grandfather demanded.

  "That kind of dog, with big ears tipped with black."

  "You're sure Karralys has a dog?"

  "Yes. Why?" the bishop asked.

  "It just seems very unlikely. Three thousand years ago there were very few domesticated dogs. There were wolves, and dog-wolves. But domesticated dogs were just beginning to be mentioned in Egypt."

  "We don't know exactly how long ago Karralys lived. Three thousand years is just a convenient guess. Anyhow, how do you know?"

  "I'm a fund of useless information."

  "Not so useless," his wife said. "This dog appears to have no wolf blood. It's unlikely your Karralys would have had a dog like this."

  "Unless," the bishop said, "he brought him to the New World with him?"

  "What's all the fuss?" Dr. Louise raised her eyebrows. "If you're seeing people from three thousand years ago, why get so excited about a dog?"

  "It's one more thing," the bishop said. "I think it's a sign."

  "Of what?" His sister sounded impatient.

  "I know, I know, Louise, it's against all your training. But you did take care of Annie, you have to admit that."

  "I took care of a girl whose badly lacerated finger needed immediate attention. She wasn't that different from all the other fallen sparrows you seem to think it's your duty to rescue."

  "Louise," Mrs. Murry said, "I find it hard to believe that Nase actually brought Anaral to your office and that you treated her as an ordinary patient."

  "As an ordinary patient," Dr. Louise said firmly. "Whether or not the girl whose finger I took care of was from three thousand years ago or not, I have no idea."

  "You told me to take her back," the bishop said.

  "To wherever. Whenever."

  "Louise, it all started in your root cellar with the first Ogam stone."

  "I'm only a simple Episcopalian," Dr. Louise said. "This is too much for me."

  "You aren't a simple anything, that's your problem." The bishop looked over to the Ogam stones on the dresser. "And noting the fall of the sparrow is an activity not unknown to you, Louise. Maybe you should come to the star-watching rock with me. Maybe if you crossed the time threshold--"

  Dr. Louise shook her head. "No, thanks."

  The bishop's plate was empty and he took a large helping from the bowl Mrs. Murry held out. The quantity of food he managed to put away seemed in direct disproportion to his long thinness. "This is marvelous, Kate. And the wine--you don't drink this wine every night?"

  Mr. Murry refilled the bishop's glass. "All in your honor."

  The bishop took an appreciative sip. "The words on the Ogam stones, if I have deciphered them correctly, are peaceable, gentle. Memorial markers. And occasionally something that sounds like part of a rune. The one Polly carried in for me, for instance: Let the song of our sisters the stars sing in our hearts to--and there it break
s off. Isn't it beautiful? But, alas, in Annie's time, as now, sacred things were not always honored. Words--runes, for instance--were sometimes misused. They were meant to bless, but they were sometimes called on for curses. And they were used to influence weather, fertility, human love. Yes, runes were sometimes abused, but it was never forgotten that they had power."

  "You're lecturing again," his sister commented.

  But Polly, interested, asked, "You mean the old rhyme 'Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me' is wrong?"

  The bishop agreed. "Totally."

  Mrs. Murry pushed her chair back slightly and Hadron, taking this as an invitation, left his place by the hearth and jumped into her lap.

  The bishop continued, "That little rhyme doesn't take into account that words have power, intrinsic power. I love you. What could be more powerful than that small trinity? On the other hand, malicious gossip can cause horrible damage."

  Mr. Murry said, "If Dr. Louise tells me I look awful, my joints are going to feel hot and inflamed."

  "Whereas, happily, I can say you're doing very well indeed," Dr. Louise said.

  "Swimming definitely helps," Mr. Murry said, "but we do respond to suggestion."

  Dr. Louise pursued her own train of thought. "I'm an internist, not a cardiologist, but I'd like to have a look at Zachary. I thought he seemed a charming young man and I don't like the sound of this."

  "He's coming over on Saturday," Polly said. "I'd like you to see him, too, Dr. Louise, I really would."

  "Is he a special friend of yours?" she asked.

  "He's a friend. I don't know him that well. I don't even know him well enough to know whether or not he's likely to exaggerate. I know he was scared."

  "One of the Ogam stones"--the bishop frowned slightly, remembering--"goes: From frights and fears may we be spared by breath of wind and quiet of rain."

  "Is a rune a sort of prayer?" Polly asked.

  "If one truly believes in prayer, yes."

  "Like the Tallis Canon?" she suggested.

  "All praise to thee my God this night"--the bishop nodded--"for all the blessings of the light. Yes, of course. And then there's: Let all mortal flesh keep silence. Oh, indeed, yes."

  Mrs. Murry brought the salad bowl to the table. "What a conversation for a group of pragmatic scientists--with the exception of you, Nase."