‘As in a family, what you were saying about Titus?’
‘Yes. Or sometimes they just seem destined. A Buddhist would say you had met in a previous life.’
‘Would you say you were a superstitious man? And don’t say it depends what you mean by superstition.’
‘In that case I can’t answer you.’
‘Do you believe in reincarnation? Do you think that if one hasn’t done well one will be reborn as a-as a- hamster-or a-woodlouse?’
‘These are images. The truth lies beyond.’
‘It seems to me a creepy doctrine.’
‘Other people’s religions often seem creepy. Think how creepy Christianity must seem to an outsider.’
‘It seems so to me,’ I said, though I had never thought this before. ‘Do Buddhists believe in life after death?’
‘It depends-’
‘Oh all right!’
‘Some Tibetans,’ said James, ‘believe-’ He corrected himself. He now always spoke of that country in the past tense as a vanished civilization. ‘Believed that the souls of the dead, while waiting to be reborn, wander in a sort of limbo, not unlike the Homeric Hades. They called it
‘So it’s a place of punishment?’
‘Yes, but a just automatic sort of punishment. The learned ones regard these figures as subjective visions, which depend on the sort of life the dead man has led.’
‘ “For in that sleep of death what dreams may come”…’
‘Yes.’
‘But what about God, or the gods? Can’t a soul go to them?’
‘The gods? The gods themselves are dreams. They too are merely subjective visions.’
‘Well, at least one might hope for some happy illusions hereafter! ’
‘Just possibly,’ said James, with a judicious air, as if he were discussing the likelihood of catching a train. ‘But very few people… are without… attendant demons…’
‘And does everybody go to
‘I don’t know. They say that you have a chance at the moment of death.’
‘A chance?’
‘To become free. At the moment of death you are given a total vision of all reality which comes to you in a flash. To most of us this would be-well-just a violent flash, like an atom bomb, something terrifying and dazzling and incomprehensible. But if you can comprehend and grasp it then you are free.’
‘So it’s useful to know you’re going. You mean free to-?’
‘Just free-Nirvana-out of the Wheel.’
‘The wheel of reincarnation?’
‘The Wheel, yes, of attachments, cravings, desires, what chains us to an unreal world.’
‘Attachments? You mean-even love?’
‘What we call love.’
‘And do we then exist somewhere else?’
‘These are images,’ said James. ‘Some say Nirvana is and can only be here and now. Images to explain images, pictures to explain pictures.’
‘The truth lies beyond!’
We were silent then for a little time. James’s eyelids dropped but I could still see the glint of his eyes. I asked jocosely, ‘Are you meditating?’
‘No. If I were really meditating I would be invisible. We notice each other because we are centres of restless mental activity. A meditating sage is not seen.’
‘Yes, distinctly creepy!’ I could not make out whether James was serious. I presumed he was not. The conversation was making me feel thoroughly uncomfortable. I said, ‘When do you plan to leave? Tomorrow, I imagine? Apart from anything else I want my bed back!’
James said, ‘Yes, I’m sorry, you can have the bed tonight. I’ll push off tomorrow. I’ve got a lot of things to do in London. I have to prepare for a journey.’
So my guess had been right! James had not really left the Army, he was going secretly back to Tibet! I wanted to indicate tactfully to him that I knew. ‘Oh, a journey, of course! I think I can imagine-however, I ask no questions-!’
James was silent, now looking at me out of his dark unshaven face and his dark eyes. I glanced quickly at him and looked away. I decided to tell him about Ben. ‘You know-James-about my falling into that hole-’
‘Minn’s cauldron. Yes.’
‘I didn’t fall accidentally, I was pushed.’
James considered. ‘Who pushed you?’
‘Ben.’
‘You saw him?’
‘No, but somebody pushed me and it must have been him.’
James looked at me thoughtfully. Then he said, not at once, ‘Are you certain? Are you sure (a) that you were pushed and (b) that it was Ben?’
I was not going to be (a)d and (b)d by James. Nothing seemed to touch him, not even attempted murder. ‘I just thought I’d tell you. OK, forget it. So you’re going tomorrow, that’s fine.’
At that moment I heard a sound which I shall never forget. I sometimes hear it still in daylight hallucinations. It tore into my consciousness with its own immediate evidence of some frightful event, and the room was filled with fear as with fog. It was Lizzie’s voice. She shrieked somewhere out in front of the house. Then she shrieked again.
James and I stared at each other. James said, ‘Oh no-’ I rushed out, got entangled in the bead curtain and began to tumble down the stairs. I ran panting across the hall and then at the front doorway nearly fell as if a dense cloud of weariness and despair had met me and all but made me faint. I could hear James running down the stairs behind me.
Something extraordinary seemed to be happening on the road. The first person I saw was Peregrine, who was standing beside Gilbert’s car and looking along the road in the direction of the tower. Then I saw Lizzie, leaning on Gilbert’s arm, walking slowly back towards the house. Up near the tower there was a car and a group of people standing looking down at something on the ground. I thought, there’s been a road accident.
Peregrine turned and I shouted at him, ‘What’s happened?’
Instead of replying he came forward and tried to grasp my arm and detain me, but I shook him off.
James was now at my heels. He was wearing my silk dressing gown, the one that Hartley had worn. He too said to Perry, ‘What’s happened?’
I paused. Peregrine said, to James, not to me, ‘It’s Titus.’
James went up to the yellow Volkswagen and leaned against it. He mumbled something like, ‘I should have held on-’ Then he sat down on the ground.
Peregrine was saying something to me but I ran on towards the corner, passing Lizzie who was now sitting on a rock, with Gilbert kneeling beside her.
I reached the group of people. They were strangers, and they were looking down at Titus who was lying on the grass verge. But he had not been hit by a car. He was drowned.
I cannot bear to describe what happened next in detail. Titus was already dead, there can be no doubt of that, although I did not want to believe it at once. He looked so whole, so beautiful, lying there limp and naked and dripping, his hair dark with water, someone had drawn it away from his face, and his eyes were almost closed. He was lying on his side showing the tender fold of his stomach and the bedraggled wet hair of his front. His mouth was slightly open showing his teeth and I remember noticing the hare lip. Then I saw a dark mark on the side of his forehead, as if he had been struck.
I ran back towards the house shouting for James. James was still sitting on the ground beside the car. He got up slowly. ‘James, James, come, come!’ James had revived me. Surely he could revive Titus.
