The Book And The Brotherhood

'I conversed with her. Then I too left her. That is all that I can report.'

`You left her?' said Gerard, 'how could you, how perfectly rotten! You left her standing by herself?'

`Her escort not being far off, I presumed,' said Gulliver.

`You'd better go and look for her at once,' said Gerard.

`Give him a drink first,' said Jenkin, hauling himself up from his chair. 'I expect Conrad's turned up again.'

'I'll have a word with him if he hasn't!' said Gerard. 'Fancy leaving her alone even for a moment!'

'I expect it was a call of nature,' said Jenkin, 'he rushed in behind the laurels, the myrtle, the ivy.'

'It was not a call of nature,' said Gulliver. He could see from the behaviour of his audience that they did not yet know his great news. 'Do you know? Well, obviously you don't. Crimond is here.'

'Crimond? Here?'

'Yes. And he's wearing a kilt.'

Gulliver took the glass of champagne offered to him by Jenkin and sat down in the chair Jenkin had vacated.

Their dismay was even greater than Gull had hoped for. I hey stared at each other appalled, with stiffened faces and indrawn lips. Rose, who rarely showed her emotions, had flushed and put a hand to her face. She was the first to speak. ' How dare he come here!'

‘It's his old college too,' said Jenkin.

‘Yes, but he must have known -'

‘That it's our territory?'

‘He must have known we'd all be here,' said Rose, 'he must have come on purpose.'

‘Not necessarily,' said Gerard. 'There's nothing to be alarmed about. But we'd better go and find Duncan and Jean. They may not know -'

‘If they do know they've probably gone home!' said Rose.

‘I bloody hope not,' said Jenkin. 'Why should they? They can justkeep away from him. God!' he added, 'and I was just looking forward to seeing the old colt and getting quietly plastered with you lot!'

‘I'll go and tell them,' said Gulliver. 'I haven't seen them, but I expect I can find them.'

`No,' said Gerard, 'you stay here.'

`Why? Am I under arrest? Aren't I supposed to look for Tamar?'

`Duncan and Jean may come here,' said Rose, 'hadn't someone better be -?'

`Yes, all right, go and look for Tamar,' said Gerard to Gulliver. 'Just see she's OK and if she's alone dance with her. I expect that boy has come back. Why did he rush off?'

`He went to gape at Crimond. I don't see what all the fuss is, about that man. I know you quarrelled with Crimond about the book and all that, and wasn't he keen on jean once? Why are you all so fluffed up?'

`It wasn't quite as simple as that,' said Gerard.

Jenkin said to Rose, 'Are you afraid that Duncan will get drunk and attack him?'

`Duncan is probably drunk already,' said Rose, 'we'd better go and -'

`It's more likely that Crimond will attack Duncan,' said Gerard.

`Oh no!'

`People hate their victims. But of course nothing will happen.'

‘I wonder who he's with?' Rose asked.

`He's with Lily Boyne,' said Gulliver.

`How extraordinary!' said Gerard.

`Typical,'said Rose.

`I'm sure he's here accidentally,' said Jenkin. 'I wonder it' he's got his Red Guards with him?'

Gerard looked at his watch. 'I'm afraid I must go and see Levquist, otherwise he'll have gone to bed. You two go and look for jean and Duncan. I'll watch out for them too on the way across.'

They departed, leaving Gulliver behind. Gull was at a stage of drunkenness at which the body, dismayed, sends out unmistakable appeals for moderation. He felt very slightly sick and very slightly faint. He had noticed the slowness of his speech. He envisaged the possibility of falling over. He could not easily focus his eyes. The room was moving jerkily, and emitting flashes rather like the pop group effect. (The group was the Waterbirds, the college having failed to secure the Treason of the Clerks.) Gulliver, conscious of a desire to dance, was not sure whether his condition favoured it or precluded it. He knew from experience that if he wished to go on enjoying the evening he must have an interval from alcohol, and if possible something to eat. After that he would look for Tamar. He was anxious to please Gerard, or more exactly afraid of the results of not pleasing him. As he had come in to break his news, a queue had already been forming outside the supper tent. Gulliver, who hated this sort of queueing, and who felt that without a partner he might attract suspicion or, worse still, pity, had eaten well in a pub before arriving at the dance; but that now seemed an infinitely long time ago. Moving cautiously about the room he found a bottle of Perrier and another plate of cucumber sandwiches. He could not find a clean glass. He sat down and began to eat the sandwiches and to drink the water which tasted headily of champagne. His ryes kept closing.

The three friends passed out of the cloister and onto the big lawn where the marquees stood. Here they separated, Rose going to the right, Jenkin to the left, and Gerard straight on toward the eighteenth-century building, also floodlit, where Levquist kept his library. Levquist was retired, but continued to live in college where he had a special large room to house his unique collection of books, left of course to the college in his will. He also kept, in his sanctum, a divan bed so that he could on occasion, as tonight, sleep among his books rather than more domestically in his other rooms. His successor in the professorial chair, one of his pupils, continued in an insecure and subservient relation to the old man. Levquist was indeed not easy to approach. This was an awkward fact, given the strong attraction which he exerted upon many of those who had dealings with him.

Gerard looked about him as he went, glancing into the tents and scanning the supper queue, without seeing any sign of Jean or Duncan or Tamar or Conrad or Crimond. The noise of music and voices and laughter made a textured canopy, there was a smell of flowers and earth and water. The lawn, between the supper tent and the marquees, was dotted with shifting groups of young people, and a few embracing couples standing alone kissing. There would be more of these as the night wore on. Gerard set his foot on the familiar stairway and experienced the familiar shock of emotion. He knocked upon the dimly lighted door and heard the harsh sound, scarcely verbal, with which Levquist invited entry. He entered.

The long room, barred with jutting bookshelves, was dark except for a lamp at the far end upon Levquist's huge desk where the old man sat with hunched shoulders, his head turned toward the door. Beside the desk the big window facing onto the deer park was wide open. Gerard advanced along the dark well-worn carpet and said, `Hello, it's me.' With deliberate restraint, he did not now lard all his speeches with the word `sir', nor could he bring himself, though well aware that he could not be by any means Levquist's only 'old pupil' visitor.that evening, to utter his own name.

`Hernshaw,' said Levquist, lowering his cropped grey head and taking off his glasses.

Gerard sat down in the seat opposite to him and stretched out his long legs cautiously under the desk. His heart beat violently. He was still afraid of'Levquist.

Levquist did not smile, neither did Gerard. Levquist fiddled with his nearest books and with an open notebook in which he had been writing. He frowned. He left Gerard to open the conversation. Gerard stared at the large beautiful grotesque Jewish head of the great scholar. 'How's the book getting on, sir?' This was just a standard opening move.

This book was Levquist's interminable book on Sophocles. Levquist did not regard this as a genuine question. He replied, `Slowly.' Then said, 'Are you still in that office?'

`No, I've retired.'