Alexandria: A Novel

by Paul Kingsnorth

  must you go? i say. i did not plan to. Gol calls again.

  i must go west, he says. Birds have sent me. mother has sent me.

  father looks up at me then and i look out to Water, feelin his eyes on me.

  she wants me, i say, me eyes burnin now, she wants me, she takes what i have to give but i can never have her. does she only take what she wants, only for her? is there any thing in me she sees or would touch? i do not know what this is, but it is like some wyrm livin in me and it grows and i can not bind it.

  lorenso, says father. if you would come with me, if you would come west, i would take you. if you would come you may save your hart and hers and you may save this Order, for what small time it has left.

  all of this now is great upon me and all me words gone.

  think, says father. think, then come to me.

  / sfia

  me thought was to keep from him, to keep away. errors are made. i love what i can make him do, he is young and burns easy, i loved it. want it. nzil has nothin for me. only he does, he has love for me and for el and he is steady and i have done wrong. ah, he knows. so i would stop, i would keep from lorenso. he will calm in time, though it is hard to keep from him in such small place. perhaps i should speak with him, soothin, explain. but later, not yet. not while fyr is still burnin. this was me thought.

  but mother has other thoughts. mother knows best what is right for us, so she says. mother thinkin we must bind again together, all of us, in light of Swan Dream, in light of father leavin, of what is comin. some thing is comin. some great thing, she says, some thing which will turn all over, like Clay is turned by neep tide. Swans.

  so mother sends us out. mother sends me, nzil, lorenso all out to harvest Yam. all together, like pilin fyr high will make it burn out faster.

  Yam plain is cut from holt, on highest part of Edg. here woman can stand and seein much of this long isle, like arm flotin in wide fenn that stretches for ever it seems. on clere day to west we can see faint hills where Clay joins Sky at edge of world. none but father has ever been to them.

  today, day is misted, but we can still see where fenn meets Clay around long Edg. our place. great Cloyster growin, Bird Poles, Lady Chappel, Long Hall, circlin place, all of this on highest point, edges shaded by holt stretchin off north. none but father lives now who has been to end of holt. men who took lorenso out, who made him man when he come of age, all are gone now. gone where he would take me.

  day is hot even for summer. we take Yam stiks and walkin from our place to Yam plain. mother does things for reasons she knows and she must know reason for this but i can not see any thing but fyr here.

  lorenso does not look at me. nzil does not look at me. nzil not lookin at lorenso. lorenso lookin down always at ground, at his feet measurin it as he walks.

  comin to Yam plain soon. it is not far. Yams roarin out, all vines twisted over each other, ground barely seen, plants pushin in to holts edge, twined with Nettel and Alter. work will be hard.

  i take me stik and go to furthest edge away from them. i will dig and fill me sak and then will go bak. i will work fast. small time, small damage.

  mounds of Clay are hard to find under vines and twistin leafs. Notweed comes bak faster than it can be cut. work is hot. i bend, i hak at Clay, i push bak vines, pull them out. i do not look up, i do not look at either of them. only wantin to fill me sak and go bak.

  i will not look up.

  me bare feet are dug in to wet Clay here, me shift wet now in heat of day, even under Trees. i will not look up but i do. i have to see. i see lorenso, bent diggin, nzil liftin up Yam from ground, brushin off dirt, pullin off vines.

  now i see lorenso stand, droppin his diggin, brushes dirt from his shift.

  how he looks at nzil who is still bent diggin. now lorenso movin towards him.

  i drop me stik and i start to walk fast to him. i know him when he is this way, when his bak is straight and this way he walks i can see what he wants. he means to make some thing happen now. he means to shift air to an other place for he is tired of waitin and now i begin to run.

  lorenso movin to nzil now who sees him come and stands, puttin Yam down and turnin. now they face each other and i am runnin and now call, lorenso! nzil!

  before i am there, before i am with them space between them is closed and they could touch each other but then some thing changes. some thing comes down from air or Trees and fyr is drained from lorenso, and nzil is straight standin now and neither is lookin at other one.

  both are lookin over at edge of Yam plain, where holt meetin Clay and both are still.

  i come up to them runnin and i am hot, so hot only from this small distance and i take nzils hand but still he does not move, only speak.

  look, he says.

  i look then over to where their eyes leadin and there where holt meets field, before great Ash Tree, some person is standin at very edge of Yam plain. all red is its cloke, red like Sun in winter, and over its face is hood, red also, and it does not move at all. only stands, facin us, like Tree it self, like Bird Pole, like rok, like Sun.

  / nzil

  we stand before her in Long Hall like children. he on other side of sfia so i could not see him, like wyrm, like boy he is.

  so it is out in plain sight now, says mother.

  standin on edge of Yam plain, says boy, by Trees.

  and what did you see? asks mother.

  littel, said sfia. he is still, only standin. did he move?

  he did not, i said.

  he was tall, says sfia. all in red, long red cloke with hood. we did not see if it was man or woman.

  they are neither, says mother. and both. so it did not come to you?

  he only stood, i said. it.

  well, said mother. they bide. it will not be same one as come last summer. Wayland sends new stalkers each time. we do not know why.

  what do we do? says lorenso, like scared child he is.

  wait, she says. be strong. go on. always watch. when it moves, be ready.

  when we left i walked behind him, eyes burnin his bak. he felt me, he knew, he was burnin, and he will. he will burn.

  / el

  mother givin me job! it is first time but she said i am old enough now i am growin and it is most important job of year in all Edg to watch for first Swaller comin bak. now i must look up always, lookin up to Sky all times. when first Swaller comes, Pole must be raised and dance held and all feastin and stories of our people.

  i love stories! but who will tell them now? it was jame used to tell us stories but he has gone now. he went after Swaller Day last year and is not come bak.

  i loved his stories. he told of Bares and Gobbles and Sky that speaks and children born from Fish. mother would not tell me why he went. may be i will ask her when i have seen Swaller. i want to know why he went, and others.

  mother said he went to Alexandria, but i dont know where that is.

  / mother

  as they leave i take lorenso aside. sfia looks bak as they depart and i look at her and she moved fast from Long Hall then and we are alone in dimness of this place, so still now and songless.

  lorenso, i say, sit with me. listen.

  he looks at me sullen, sittin at long table. i see what is in his eyes. may be it is too late to speak but i am mother of this place, i must speak what place needs.

  lorenso, i say, i see you burn, you are burnin. young men burn with anger, with lust, with light strikin out. it is not wrong, it is who you are, what your animal body makin you. i know. but fyr burns all around it.

  he says nothin. i keep speakin, it may be some thing will land in him.

  in old times, i say, in Atlantean times we are told world was made in shape of Man and world burned for it. reachin, shapin, fyr screamin out. Man is made in shape of war and in shape of makin, seekin. Man is made to search, take, kill. without killin, lorenso, there is no food, no life. without Man there is no life, without Man there is hunger, without Man no fyr, no warmth. Mans fyr creates, sa
ves, protects, feeds. but Mans fyr also destroys. when world was made in shape of Man only, world was on fyr like you burn now. do you see?

  still he does not speak and he does not look in me eyes.

  now, i say, Man is fyr but Woman is Water. you know this for you know sfia, you see how she flows, you feel her waves. Water is soft, still, beautiful. Water washin away cares, Water slakes thirst, gives life. Water also drowns, destroys, ragin like winter Sea. Water is strong as fyr, it wears all away, none can resist its work. Water is life, all things are made of it. Water can drown fyr, lorenso.

  Long Hall now is like some cave and words draw us deep in to it like there is no lighted world outside.

  world is Water now, lorenso, i say, not fyr. Way moves in cycles, and this is Water time, woman time. it is right. but you are man and you still burn.

  yes, he says now, lookin up at me. i burn, and you would slake me, this whole fukkin place would drown me, and her, and what we have.

  no, i said, this is what you do not see. this is what i want to tell you. Water and fyr must hold like two stones in balance. world must neither burn nor drown. cycles movin toward balance, this is what Way teaches, it is what Lady shows us. after fyr time, Water time, after mens time, womyns time. Erth will always seek balance. none must be drowned, none burnin.

  he looks in me eyes now and is proud, he will not look away.

  Edg will not drown you, lorenso, i say. Order will not drown you, Lady will not drown you. i will not. all must be true in our bodies, in harts, in Way. this is what keeps us from Alexandria. you burn, but you can not burn us down. i will not let you, lorenso. this is me duty here. you may not burn us down. do you see?

  now he looks away, but still he does not speak. he is not reached.

  / lorenso

  i could go. could walk in to holt with father, go west and never comin bak. i could drop me shift in mere and walk nekid in to wood again as i did in me man becomin and again become some other thing. what is this thing called lorenso, what does this body hold down, what is moored to Clay? i could fly like Birds to some other land, could fly down to lands where this Order began in some cave, some plain of sand. do they still circle there, do Birds still fly?

  all of this was wasted.

  i could strip all away and walk through Water and becomin some other man and never comin bak. wash all away in to mere, in to Sea. could forget all that was and walk out of it all. never again to be what i never was, never again to be lorenso.

  i could.

  / mother

  that i should be mother of this place in such times.

  at dawn i rose and goin down to mere, round to place of reeds from where Greenrok can be seen out to Sea. rise early if you can but Birds will always be aloft before people.

  i stand for some time, feet in warm Waters lappin, Gol circlin, Petrol callin, Gilly sweepin in and out of caves in Greenrok, all passin over and through. i speak in silence to Lady for some time, ask for strength, for this is what we will need now, father and i and all our children.

  later i call father and yrvidian in to Long Hall. they come, these two old men, bent under all that time has laid on them, they come and sittin and look over at me and wait for me words. always in our Order mother has spoke for Lady, for Way speaks through womyn as it does not through men.

  i sit and take their hands, we hold hands in ring, i speak prayer in silence and bid words come.

  yrvidian, i say.

  i know, he says, what you want, mother.

  can it be done?

  i do not know. i am old.

  yrvidian, i said. i would not ask, but we must know.

  Swans told us, mother, father says. it is true if Dreamin speaks it.

  but can you go there? i say to yrvidian. can you go to city? can you see it? can you tell us what is happnin? what is shape of this thing? will Alexandria fall?

  he looks down at table, takin his hand away from mine. then lookin up, his eyes in to mine. old they are and wite.

  in Dreamin, he says, Man travels far. if Lady wills, it may be i could travel there. there are wings. songs and wings, ways to speak, to dance on toward. it may be night flight could take me to citys edge. only to edge. no body can go in.

  lines on his face softnin now as he speaks.

  but i do not think, he says, that i would come bak.

  / el

  i see it i see it!

  i run to dada with news, runnin to him and he has just finished Swan Pole. sittin on his stool he is in light of Sun and all wood shavins about him and beautiful Swan toppin great tall Pole which lays on ground, Swan with long nek and wings comin out and he is lookin at it like he is happy.

  dada! dada! i say, i have seen first Swaller!

  he stands then and smilin and says, well done, girl! i knew you would see it. where?

  over Linden Trees, i said, swoopin and wheelin just now. dada, it is Swaller Day again!

  he comes over to me and huggin me and his arms are strong and he smells good, like wood and like dada should.

  come, girl, he says, takin me hand. we must tell mother.

  / yrvidian’s Dreaming

  standin nekid there, one foot in fenn one on Land.

  Moon is here now, linkin hart to Sky with long rope of silver. runnin me hands along rope now, standin nekid in this old body, askin Moon for gift of flight.

  in Trees then on edge of holt some thing moves and without movin me head, without lookin through me eyes, i see wite Stagg comin from Trees, movin head low, gold horns shivrin with light of Moon.

  Lady will call when Lady is ready.

  cloud then over Moon, wite breath of Sky, then passin, then Moon openin in Sky like eye of Lady and now it comes.

  and risin then in to Sky as Birds rise, risin on gold wings in shape of Swan wings, followin rope, feet liftin from Clay, from Water, spreadin wings.

  fly

  followin silver rope up and along, movin on Swan wings, beatin to sound of Ladys hart, to hart of Erth then and all is blak here, all is dark. lettin go of rope then, rope dissolvin, now only Moon and blak silence, flight.

  fly

  all alone in Sky now, in blak night, Moon and i all alone and all is blak, blak, night of long flight, flyin for hours, days. flyin for years.

  then on horizon: light.

  light comes closer, long line of gold light, and now silver Moon and gold light comin together and blak is fallin bak, falls away.

  now some great force comin in to me and over me and gold wings bent bak like i have hit some wall, and gold light all around, gold wall before me, some barrier and me flight is stilled and Moon dimmed by great gold wall.

  in night now, soundless blak is gone under and all around sudden is this writhin, screamin sound of million voices speakin but no people to see. speakin, screamin, cryin, wail all in one voice, air it self writhin like some hurt wight, some beast draggin him self through woods in deth gasp.

  i am alone at gold wall, wings beatin, Moon dimmed and all bodiless folk wailin and air it self turnin in and under. and now i hear words. words in terror of this great breakin, words and risin Waters, stones crakkin and words comin, words heard across dimness of ragin air:

  to cross wall

  abandon maps

  now pressed bak sudden as if by some great blast, some great breath, some beast roarin, risin up from Erth and roarin, forced bak on broke wings in to darkness under silver Moon and now fallin, fallin and no rope now, no rope to—

  / father

  fore cnoos are tied at moorin place, roped to posts, lyin still on blak of fenn this morn. nzil built them as he built all wooden things in Edg, made them flat and low, for movin west will take you over deep sounds and dark Water but also over shallow sands, over ruins which come up from deeps to take bottom off any cnoo built too low. maps are good but maps change and nothin made by Man can ever paint world in its true shape.

  i untie one cnoo. i put bag in to it. i climb in. i coil rope in to cnoo and take paddel in me hands.<
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  i wait then, sittin, waitin, lookin at Edg, lookin at home. for sure i have been west before, for sure i have been away but i have always returned home. now home is shrinkin and silent and afeart and i will not return. mother sayin what she will, but this is me last view of home.

  what west wants from me i do not yet know.

  lorenso is not comin, it seems.

  i place paddel gentle in Water and begin to row bak away from moorin post. i push off, turn around, head in to woods, Trees growin from Water, Trees hung with moss. with Edg behind me, seein none, no sound but arcin and cryin of Birds from Greenrok, paddel in Water, under mosshung Trees i move, headin west. no true things in this world can be counted or named. there is only movin, only this moment of movin, and then what is found.

  / sfia

  Swaller Day last year i remember well, and all years since i was girl. upon this day all folk of Edg comin together, circlin together, our power joinin Sky to Land, makin Way whole again. this is small place, some times it is hard to be here with all dreams of what may be beyond in great world, but on Swaller Day world is forgotten, people are joined, brought tight together. people, Birds, great Lady, place which makes us.

  not this year.

  last year there were still sixteen of us, before stalker comin and so many goin up to city. seven of us womyn standin then around new Pole made by nzil. Lord Altros it was last year. standin nekid in light of sacred fyr, lit by nzil as dusk comin down. seven of us womyn standin in circle round Pole, fyr before us, darkness beyond. lookin out to fenn but not seein it, listnin for sound of comin spirits.

  mother steppin forward then, her body ghastin in light of flames flikkrin. mother in voice of great Lady, long wite shift, Bird head dress, callin then:

  Birds! Birds! spirits of air, children, come!

  come Altros! come Gol! come Petrol! come Ganit!