The Illustrated Gormenghast Trilogy

taken a long and quite unnecessary curve to the west, careered off the road and, turning left and right to avoid the juniper bushes that littered the upper banks, swept all of a sudden into the shallows of the broad stream. Once in the water he accelerated and great arcs of brine spurted from the wheels to port and starboard.

As for Juno, she leaned forward a little; her elbow rested on the door of the car, and her face lay sideways in the gloved palm of her hand. As far as could be seen she was quite oblivious to the speed of the car, let alone the spray: nor did she take any notice of Muzzlehatch, who, in his favourite position, was practically lying on the floor of the machine, one eye above the ‘bulwarks’ from whence came forth a sort of song:

‘I have my price: it’s rather high –

(About the level of your eye),

But if you’re nice to me, I’ll try

To lower it for you –

To lower it; to lower it;

Upon the kind of rope they knit

From yellow grass and purple hay

When knitting is taboo –’

A touch of the wheel and the car sped deeper into the river so that the water was not far from brimming over, but another movement brought her out again while the steam hissed like a thousand cats.

‘Some knit them pearl,’ roared Muzzlehatch,

‘Some knit them plain –

Some knit their brows of pearl in vain

Some are so plain they try again

To tease the wool of love!

But ah! the palms of yesterday –

There’s not a soul from yesterday

Who’s worth the dreaming of – they say –

Who’s worth the dreaming of …’

As Muzzlehatch’s voice wandered off the sun began to rise out of the river.

‘Have you finished?’ said Juno. Her eyes were half closed.

‘I have given my all,’ said Muzzlehatch.

‘Then listen please!’ – her eyes were a little wider but their expression was still faraway.

‘What is it, Juno love?’

‘I am thinking of that boy. What will they do to him?’

‘They’ll find him difficult,’ said Muzzlehatch, ‘very difficult. Rather like a form of me. It is more a case of what will he do to them. But why? Has he set a sparrow twittering in your breast? Or woken up a predatory condor?’

But there was no reply, for at that moment he drew up at the front door of Juno’s house, with a great cry of metal. It was a tall building, dusty pink in colour, and was backed by a small hill or knoll surmounted by a marble man. Immediately behind the knoll was a loop of the river. On either side of Juno’s house were two somewhat similar houses but these were forsaken. The windows were smashed. The doors were gone and the rooms let in the rain.

But Juno’s house was in perfect repair and when the door was opened by a servant in a yellow gown it was possible to see how daringly yet carefully the hall was furnished. Lit up in the darkness, it presented a colour scheme of ivory, ash, and coral red.

‘Are you coming in?’ said Juno. ‘Do mushrooms tempt you – or plovers’ eggs? Or coffee?’

‘No my love!’

‘As you wish.’

They sat without moving for a little while.

‘Where do you think the boy is?’ she said at last.

‘I have no idea,’ said Muzzlehatch.

Juno climbed out of the car. It was like a faultless disembarkation. Whatever she did had style.

‘Good night, then,’ she said, ‘and sweet dreams.’

Muzzlehatch gazed at her as she made her way through the dark garden to the lighted hall. Her shadow cast by the light reached out behind her, almost to the car, and as she moved away step by long smooth step, Muzzlehatch felt a twitch of the heart, for it seemed that he saw in the slow leisure of her stride something, at the moment, that he was loth to forgo.

It was as if those faraway days when they were lovers came flooding back, image upon image, shade upon shade, unsolicited, unbidden, each one challenging the strength of the dykes which they had built against one another. For they knew that beyond the dykes heaved the great seas of sentiment on whose bosom they had lost their way.

How often had he stared at her in anger or in boisterous love! How often had he admired her. How often had he