you lie awake at night and try to fight off this monstrous thought that just won't be driven away. How can we really be held responsible for our actions? Whether it is nature or nurture that fashions us it makes little difference, does it not? Give me the child for seven years and I will give you the man. Can I be blamed for becoming what I became? For what I had no power to avoid becoming? And if not, how can you justify punishing me?'
I smiled. 'Maybe. And maybe not. But if you helped save the Dean no one could argue about the Tightness of that.'
'Are you really such a fool that you think he can be saved? Yes, I can find him and send him back to his college to spend another twenty years marking essays, but do you really call that saving? Some people might call it the opposite. They might say only now is he truly saved.'
'Except that his new world won't make him happy. It may even kill him.'
'You're right. There is no happiness for him now. He has entered the world of the clown and discovered to his dismay that, laugh as he might, there is nothing funny about it. Nothing at all. We huddle round the camp fire and laugh merely to drown out the howl that comes in the night. Save the Dean? Louie, I can't even save myself.'
I waved to the guard; the interview was over and had accomplished about as much as I imagined. As I walked away the prisoner hissed a word. I stopped and he hissed it again. Three words, or four. I turned and he said, 'The girl! Suffer the girl to come to me!'
My brow furrowed. 'Which girl?'
And then he flung himself at the bars like a furious caged beast and rattled and kicked them and screamed, 'Calamity! Calamity! Calamity!'
As I climbed the steps up to the street level I could hear far off from the depths of the dungeon the sound of a wolf howling.
There was a message waiting for me when I got back, from Llunos asking me to go down and bail Calamity. I groaned. This was the third time in six weeks, and I knew I'd just about run out of favours. It had taken me ages to explain to his satisfaction how I came to be in that cupboard at the Rock Wholesaler's.
A little hole had appeared in the threadbare woollen jersey of cloud, and a disc of light bathed the length of the Prom from the castle to the harbour. The railings and chrome bumpers of the cars sparkled. Eeyore was leaning against the kiosk, reading to Sospan from a book. He closed it when I arrived and greeted me.
'He's been telling me about Sitting Bull,' said Sospan. 'Very interesting man. What'll you have?'
'What's good this week?'
Eeyore held up his ice.
'Flavour of the month,' said Sospan.
'Looks like chocolate.'
'But it sure doesn't taste like it. It's Xocolatl. The original Aztec recipe. That flavour dispensed elsewhere on the Prom under the name of chocolate is but a vulgar abasement.'
'What's in it?'
'Cocoa, pepper, chillies, vanilla, honey and dried flowers. They used to drink it out of a golden beaker that was used once and then thrown in the lake.'
'Are you going to introduce that system?'
'I've no objection so long as you bring your own cup.'
I ordered and when it arrived Eeyore and I chinked cornets like they were mugs of beer.
'So what's with the book, Pop?'
Eeyore placed his hand on it and said, 'Medicine Line.'
'Oh yeah, what's that?'
'It's a concept from the Old West, you see. From the old days when there weren't any frontiers and things. Apparently they had this team of men who crossed the continent surveying the boundary between America and Canada and marking it with little cairns of stones. When the Red Indians asked them what they were doing they said they were making medicine for Queen Victoria, the Great Mother across the Ocean. That's what I was reading about.'
'So what's so interesting about it?'
'Well, the funny thing was, them Indians weren't all that impressed at the time - little piles of stones ... it didn't seem like powerful medicine at all. But when they went horse-stealing south of the border the following spring, they made an amazing discovery. They found that when the sheriff and his men chased them the posse stopped up short at the piles of stone and couldn't pass. It was as if there was a glass wall there or something. For the life of them, those Indians couldn't see what was stopping the lawmen, but they had to admit the Great Mother across the Water had heap big powerful medicine. They called it the Medicine Line. That's where Sitting Bull took them after the Battle of the Little Bighorn. Up beyond the Medicine Line to Canada where they'd be safe.'
'That's a nice story, Dad.'
'I was just saying to Sospan, I reckon a lot of people in this town have medicine lines inside their heads.'
'I don't get you.'
'You know, they live their lives penned in by fear — never get to know more than a tiny part of who they are ... never realise the things that distinguish a man in this life lie wrapped in danger and wonder in the continent beyond the line.'
'I've never really thought about it like that,' I said. And added, 'But I wish someone would put a medicine line round Calamity!' I put some money down, gave Eeyore's shoulder a squeeze, and walked off in the direction of the town lock-up.
It was still only late afternoon but the cell was full with the usual smattering of drunks, handbag thieves, black marketeers and an old lady who looked out of place. Calamity sat at a small table playing cards with a stoker. He was sitting in a singlet, anchors tattooed on each bicep, and, neatly folded on Calamity's side of the table, was his shirt. Calamity dealt with a stern businesslike mien and he stared at the cards, mesmerised like a child being shown a conjuring trick. It was five-card Ludo which meant he would soon be losing his ship as well, because although he was cheating there was no way on earth he could cheat better than Calamity. No one could.
The warder jangled the keys and let her out.
'Thanks for bailing me! Where did you get the money?'
'Out of your salary for next month.'
'Hmm. Maybe it's better if I stay inside.'
'Do that and you don't get a salary at all. And give the man his shirt back.'
'But I won it fair and square! By the rules.'
'You don't even know what the rules are! What do you want with a dirty old sailor's shirt anyway?'
'Merchandise, Louie. For every object there's a buyer, it's just a case of bringing them together.'
I smiled and said, 'Go home and arrange a deal between your head and the pillow. We've got an early start tomorrow.'
Chapter 9
The train rolled gently to a halt at Borth station. The platform was empty except for a lone figure standing in the dawn mist. The figure of a man with a suitcase, a man who had once been a clown's Johnny. Calamity, eyes bleary with sleep, yawned like a small hippo.
The man walked down the platform and climbed aboard, the clunk of the door the only sound disturbing the early morning stillness. The guard shouted and the diesel grunted and strained and slowly pulled us out of Borth towards the bright sky in the east.
Bert spotted us and sat down in the seat in front. 'This isn't what we agreed on the phone,' he said over his shoulder. 'I thought I said come alone.'
'Calamity's my partner.'
He turned to look, his face creased with suspicion. 'It'll cost extra, another person and all that.'
'No it won't,' I snapped. 'Just stop moaning.'
He made a half-hearted attempt to rise and leave but it convinced no one. 'I don't have to do this, you know.'
'Who does? Just get on with it.'
The train picked up speed and glided soundlessly through the wide watery silence. Condensation dripped in icy streams down the inside of the window and, outside, the world seemed to be taking a lie-in. The sun glimmered
