With and Without, Within and Without

by Euan McAllen

  The news of the tragedy flew around the monastery, leaving devastation in its wake. Anguished monks – some screaming at the walls – tore themselves apart as they asked why, why him, why now, why here? How could this be God’s work? Monks, kneeling or spread out across the floor like a bad mess, prayed to God within an inch of their lives for the future of his soul. How could God let his monk of all monks die like that, in such a distressing, disturbing way? What was the reason? There had to be a reason. No reason, some thought. Reason enough, thought a select few. Novices, some struck dumb, traumatised, bewildered, broke down and had to be held and hugged to help them hang on. A gloom descended. All looked to the Chief Monk for spiritual guidance and relief from suffering, but he was suddenly not available. It was assumed by all that he was deep in mourning.

  Paminio wandered aimlessly, adrift; both stricken by grief and the fact that he suddenly was unemployed and perhaps had no prospects. Captain Mostrum took it better: there always had to be a Chief, Chief Monk to serve. The news hit the town in different ways: some were deeply shocked; some were slightly shocked; some were quietly stoic; some loudly declared their indifference; a few openly rejoiced. At the hospital, some of the doctors and nurses felt sick; and one patient died of shock, upon being told the news. He had not paid his outstanding bed bill. Miuccia wondered how Adolphinus was coping. Was he coping? Did he need her? Of course he did she decided.

  ***

  The next day, while the talk was all about the tragic death of Bushcatti and his captain staggered around in a clueless haze looking for direction, Deputy Dolgar made a visit to the hospital. He had been refused permission to see his aunt, which was unacceptable. He would see her, he had decided. He would see her. Despite the fact he did not like to be around sick people, he would see her for he had made a promise to his mother.

  He stormed in through the double doors, past the sign which said ‘All-comers, Enfeebled’, and collared the nearest doctor, demanding to see his aunt. It was a point of honour. He would not be refused. After he calmed down and promised to cooperate, he was asked to sit and wait, and wait; and wait a little more, as his request was processed. He sat as if looking for a fight, and space opened up around him into which no one stepped for fear of contamination or bruising. His hopes rose, only to be dashed when he was told by the senior doctor that such a thing was not possible. The woman in question was being kept in isolation for her own good. She was of a fragile mind. She could not cope with visitors. Such an encounter would be too traumatic. (He was under instruction from Senior Ward Sister Miuccia who had the backing of her big baby brother.) Dolgar protested. But I am family! Only her children had visiting rights, explained the doctor.

  Dolgar exploded, and some doctors – and one assistant accountant – had no option except to expel him from the hospital forcibly. Even though they outnumbered him, it was a hard battle to win. He fought hard, like any soldier worth his salt would fight. The victory came with a cost: injury to the senior doctor, Doctor Varvareo. He received a heavy punch in the stomach and fell to the ground in agony and disbelief. His colleagues rushed him to a spare bed, for which the B&B man, when informed, demanded payment: there could be no exceptions, no special treatment; else who knows where that would lead. Free treatment for those without the money? The doctors had a quick whip round to satisfy the man. Later, the Chief Accountant, upon hearing the news, agreed completely with the decision: this was a hospital, not a charity. Costs had to be met.

  When Senior Ward Sister Miuccia was told, she exploded and paid her brother a visit. Ingel refused to see her, but she would not go away. She banged on his door, demanding to see him. Finally, he caved in, finding her lack of respect for a monastery in mourning completely unacceptable. Talking to her was the only way to make her go away – not that big sisters ever truly went away. When he opened his door, Miuccia stormed in with a fury in her eyes, which for him was as bad as the scent of death pervading the monastery. Craccus, terrified, flapped his wings until he almost snapped; tortured as he was by his unfulfilled wish to fly far away from the trouble hurtling towards him. Ingel expected at least some soft words of sympathy for his situation, and that of the monastery, but no, she was there only because she wanted cousin Dolgar’s head. She bore down on her seated brother, leaning over and trapping him in his chair like he was one of her troublesome mental patients.

  Ingel tried to defend himself. ‘I told him he could not see her.’

  ‘Well, it didn’t work. Tell that little shit to keep his nose out of our business.’

  ‘Our mother is his mother’s sister. It is his business.’

  ‘Are you on his side?’

  ‘No!’

  She stared down as if to cover a lie.

  ‘I’m not on his side. Like you said, he is a little shit.’

  She wanted cousin Dolgar to leave town immediately. He could not make that happen, said Ingel, trying to remain calm whilst wanting to kick his sister hard in the shin. That would really hurt. That might send her running; back to her hospital hell. ‘Well, then at least keep him away from the hospital, away from Mother,’ she said, unintentionally spitting in his face. Surely that was possible for the second most powerful man in town? Her breasts were inches away from his face. He tried not to take in the view. She was on fire, breathing heavily. The smell of her breath invoked dangerous memories; ones he could not easily handle. He tried not to remember. He had touched her breasts once, fondled them even – never again, no, never again. God protect me from my sister; he wanted to scream out loud.

  He would try his best, said Ingel, wiping away the spit, but he could not promise. He had no power over the man. ‘The deputy of the guards only took orders from his captain. And his captain did not take orders from me,’ explained Ingel, ‘not even from the Chief Monk – not that he was in any condition to give orders right now.’

  ‘Well, stupid, ask the captain to do it!’ she shouted, exasperated with what she saw as her brother’s self-satisfying indifference.

  ‘I will!’ Ingel shouted back. ‘I will! And don’t call me stupid! You don’t know what stupid is!’

  Ingel had taken enough: he could take no more; like this, she was worse than a dead body. ‘Enough, sister.’ He pushed her away to make room, to make his move. Jumping out of his chair with a sudden renewed confidence, he grabbed his sister by the hair and dragged her towards the door.

  ‘Now get out, bitch!’

  She was angry, not alarmed: they had fought as kids; her secret weapon was to hit him in the groin.

  ‘You’re the bitch! Mother is our secret!’

  Suddenly, Ingel wanted to laugh. His sister had just called him a bitch. She really could be stupid sometimes. Exhausted by her emotions – and his – he returned to some sense of normal reality.

  ‘Agreed. Now leave me alone. This is a fucking bad time right now.’

  ‘And for me!’

  ‘I don’t care. Just get out and leave me alone.’

  Miuccia yanked herself free, determined to leave with a win over her little brother.

  ‘You going to cry, my sweet little brother?’

  ‘Out. Now. And don’t come back, not unless our mother is dying.’

  Miuccia was still furious, but still in control: she did not let slip who she was off to see next, knowing he would try to stop her. No one would stop her from seeing her Adolphinus. He needed her right now: that she had decided, despite a complete lack of evidence. She stormed out, slamming the door behind her and scaring a monk who happened to be passing with a look which said ‘go to hell!’

  Miuccia had to get past a monk to see her man. He does not want to see anybody; the monk said firmly. He knew who she was and refused to be intimidated by the mad sister of mad Ingel. ‘He will see me,’ she responded, defiant. ‘He will. Go tell him I am here.’ The monk asked her to wait and disappeared; so she waited, and waited,
and waited; and watched, as sad and sour-looking monks passed her by, avoiding eye contact. And when the monk returned, he regretted to tell her that the Chief Monk did not want to see her. She refused to give up. She would not take no for an answer.

  ‘Tell Adolphinus; I have new information about patient Timothy – important information from his very own lips. He will want to see me.’

  The monk balked at the familiarity and disappeared again; and again she waited, and this time when he returned the message was different. ‘Yes, the Chief Monk would see her.’ Your Chief Monk, she wanted to say, but my Adolphinus.

  As she approached his private chambers, Miuccia intercepted another monk bringing his chief a tray of food: hot soup, bread, cheese, and ham. She took the tray, ignoring the complaints, making it clear that she was the one to feed the Chief Monk: she was a nurse; it was her duty. ‘Food was a form of medicine,’ she declared, and the monk relented. He had not been trained to pick a fight with a woman.

  She slipped into the room, first with an air of curiosity, then with alarm. Adolphinus was in a terrible state. He was surprised to see her, but he did not protest: he did not have the energy, the inclination, or the wish. The woman had a game to play: let her play it out. He could do with some fun right now. Life was far too serious right now. And death was a headache, an eyesore, an indictment.

  ‘So what is this news? What did he tell you that he didn’t tell me?’

  Miuccia told him bluntly, wishing to move her agenda on quickly. His reaction was denial.

  ‘The boy’s mad, quite mad. There is no castle, no king, just a wasteland. Lock him away, out of sight. Lock him away where he cannot infect others with his crazy talk. Lock him up in your mental ward. No one is to see him ever again.’

  ‘Very well, if that is your wish.’

  ‘It is my wish. You have brought me my meal. Thank you. Is there anything else? You know I should not really have a woman in my rooms. Officially, it’s against the rules.’ Adolphinus laughed. ‘But then again, I think the rules are temporarily suspended.’

  He tried to laugh again but failed. Miuccia did her best to ignore the outburst. She wanted to stay on her agenda. Nothing would get in her way.

  She expressed her sadness and commiserations for what had passed and promised him her total support. She would always be there for him. She would nurse him back to health for he did not look good. Adolphinus made no comment, happy as he was to let the theatre play out. Let her think she could simply walk in and walk all over him with soft talk. What was she offering besides words, sex? He was happy to wait and see. In the meantime, he imagined her slipping out of her uniform. He had seen her do that for real many times before – but that was many years before.

  She guided him towards the food like he was a blind man and sat him down at the table. He did not protest. She picked up the spoon and offered to feed him soup – she would not have it any other way. It was her duty as a nurse to feed him. Have it your way, he thought. Let’s play your game. I am sick of the real world at the moment – sick of reality. I have a dead body to explain, to bless, to bury. Miuccia smiled and took his hand and proceeded to feed him like any mother, afraid her child was not eating. Adolphinus did not object: he was happy to let reality slip away. Of the two, she was the one least attached to reality right now.

  Right now, he needed something other than his dark, depressing thoughts, or God. She would do. He needed somewhere to take himself. She would do. He needed to take a woman. She would do. She was not good-looking anymore, but she would do. Had she ever had great looks? He could not remember. She was not the love of his life now, and could never be, but she would do. She would have to do. He needed to stay sane: she would have to do. He needed to take a break from who he was, from whom he was expected to be. He needed to break away before he broke into pieces. She had broken in before. Let her break in again. He regarded this growing intimacy as a game. Perhaps she did too.

  He could tell she wanted to make love. The signs were clear in her body language. Her body said nothing else. She said nothing, for she was thinking too hard about what not to say, and how to navigate her body slowly towards her desired destination, the satisfaction of her desire. So he played along, allowing himself to become putty in her hands; letting her think that she was seducing him, reclaiming him, perhaps rewarding him for his patience. When she offered to wash him, he said yes, by all means. When she offered to remove his clothes and get them cleaned, he said yes, by all means, despite the strong urge to laugh. Let the game continue. When she offered to put him to bed, he said yes: he needed to sleep, he lied. She knew he was lying: here was an invitation. When she slipped into bed alongside him, he did not protest. They had been here before. Let it happen again. When she began to seduce him, he did not protest: he returned like for like, and both liked it. He was aroused. She was aroused. Both were ready to consume the other.

  They made love, like two demons, like two beasts let loose in the same cage; each taking the other’s breath away; each demanding more, not less; both protesting that they should not be doing this. Neither meant it. He savaged her. He ravaged her. She relished him. She cherished him. He subjected her. She subjected him. One needed to push. One needed to pull. Both needed to explode. Afterward, when they were both spent, he simply said ‘thank you,’ and rolled over, saying she could not still be there in the morning. Game over. Desire had been replaced by daggers.

  ***

  A new day had barely begun, and Ingel was disturbed from his sleep by an urgent summons: Adolphinus wanted to see him, right now. The monk was extremely apologetic. Ingel brushed him aside and moved fast.

  Adolphinus stood uncomfortable and looked exhausted as if he had not slept a wink all night. He had not. He looked like a man in need of something dangerous. He looked like a dangerous man. He looked trapped, like a fly in a room; hitting his head against the window; trying to reach the sunlight, and not understanding what was stopping him.

  ‘You look exhausted.’

  ‘I am exhausted. But that is not important right now.’

  ‘Can I get you something? Someone?’

  ‘No. Sit down Ingel. I need you to listen for a change.’

  Ingel recognised when his chief wanted something bad: he tried to sound tough, play tough, even in front of the toughest man in the monastery.

  ‘I’m here, listening.’

  Adolphinus strained to speak. He strained to listen. But his thoughts were still clear and precise, for he was dicing with his destiny.

  ‘Do you want my job?’

  Ingel was floored – unusual for him. He did not know how to respond. Was this a trick question? Ingel decided to hedge his bets.

  ‘Not while you have it.’

  ‘Do not play clever with me. I’m not in the mood. I repeat, do you want my job? The answer you give me now is the only one I will accept as the truth.’

  Ingel was cornered. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. That was the answer I was expecting. And what would you do to get my job? Anything?’

  Ingel had no idea, so Adolphinus nudged him along. Time was of the essence. There was a dead body which had to be declared to the powers that be and buried with ceremony.

  ‘Anything, if it is acceptable to you.’

  ‘Good answer. As always, you are good with answers. So you would do anything I tell you to do if it gets you my job?’

  Again Ingel hedged his bets. ‘Within reason.’

  ‘I am a reasonable person.’

  Adolphinus finally sat down, perhaps exhausted by the first hurdle.

  ‘We need to make that Paminio fellow give us the case.’

  ‘The case?’ asked Ingel.

  ‘Bushcatti’s official document case.’

  ‘To do what with it?’

  ‘To forge a document. His succession document.’
<
br />   ‘Ah, of course.’

  ‘How do we do that? Bribery?’

  ‘I don’t think so. He comes across as the scrupulous type – doesn’t drink, doesn’t do girls. Doesn’t seem to do anything as far as I can tell except sulk.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Blackmail.’

  ‘How do you propose to blackmail him?’

  ‘Let me think about that.’

  ‘Think fast; we have no time.’

  ‘It’s early. I haven’t had breakfast yet. I need a full stomach. You hungry? We could have breakfast together?’

  ‘No.’

  Adolphinus suddenly stood up and waved his SRO away. This conversation was done.

  ‘I’ll eat alone, thank you. Go, come back when you have a plan.’

  ‘Very well.’

  With that Ingel left the room, not knowing that his chief would not be eating alone that morning. Back in his own room, he sat down and stared at his crow whilst deep in thought.

  ***

  Waking slowly, Mozak opened his eyes. The room was gone. In its place was something bigger and there were other people: moving around slowly, but with nowhere to go; or sitting, waiting to die; or standing still as if looking for a reason to move or sit. An old man was banging his head against the wall and trying to say something. Another man, seated, was watching him and banging the armrest to keep time; and cheering, but in a subdued way as if not wishing to be heard but needing an outlet for his own aching sanity. Unlike the headbanger, he was not yet insane, but he felt it coming, and that made him insane. Mozak did not want them anywhere near him: their madness might infect him.