The Rite of Spring: Fragment 28g
The Student
in which Taynuic sees the light, and sets out to drown in darkness

Suddenly golden light blazed from the reflection of those high pinnacles. The light of the God... the light in which those who could let go of the world would live forever, forever, up there in the High Place... The light of the God, the darkness of woman... I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe it. She is so bright, so bright, Beinnain... surely the God could not turn me away just for tasting of her?

I tried to listen, as the Ear do. I heard nothing; but I felt the glory of the light reflecting down from the High Place, and the promise of warmth with it, and I felt it as a blessing. Feeling uncomfortably and disconcertingly moved, I sang the Rite of Calling Up alone, facing not the rising Eye of the God, but Her Home.

When I turned back into the town, the peasant's carts were already streaming down River Street into the Food Market. I went across and was lucky enough to fall in with some old people who had cheeses to sell. I helped them to set up their stall, and was given in return a piece of gridle bread hot with fresh cheese in, which was very good. You would think that after the feast of the previous night I would have been unable to eat a thing, but I found it was not so.

After that, I knew I should go and find other work to raise some coin for my meeting with Beinnain later, but - well, I thought of her instead, and somehow I found myself sitting under the big maple tree in the Place of the Theatre, where we'd agreed to meet. I felt foolish... she wouldn't be able to come 'till late in the morning, she'd said... anyway, I sat, and watched the traffic in the street. It's different down that end of the City. I'd never spent time there before, because my father thought that even going there was dangerous. I suppose the difference is the Houses of Pleasure. The cults of Pleasure are not strong in the City; our cults are more about work and knowledge. Country people come here, dressed to come to Town, dressed in their best, dressed to impress, to flirt, to have fun. To have Pleasure. The Priests, too - the great tented bulk of the Stomach proclaiming 'I love to eat'; the tight, strutting garb of the Cock, with their vivid groin guards, shouting 'I'm virile'; the bared breasts and filmy clothes of the Cunt replying 'I'm ready'. I watched, and thought, yes, pleasure is a good thing too... I looked at one of the Cunts, and thought of Beinnain.

'Not today, anyway'... But that was yesterday. Short, short tunic - it would have been short even here. Legs going up and up... long, long hair. What would it be like if it were loose? What if her breasts were bare, like that - what then. And... and... if today... if today... what would I do, anyway? How is it done?

I must have been thinking deeply, because I neither heard nor saw Malledich come up.

"What? Oh! Oh, good morning!", I said, leaping up to make a hurried gesture of respect. He laughed.

"I don't often see you down this end of the town, young Tay'". I must have blushed. He laughed again, but kindly, and sat himself on the bench beside me. It's pleasant there, under the tree. It's the only tree of any size in the City, apart from those in the gardens of the merchant houses, where I can't go. We watched the people go by together. After a few minutes he spoke.

"Did your business go well, yesterday, with Shipmaster Trekshtar?"

"Very well, thank you, sir. I think that he was well pleased with me, for he paid me a good bit more than we had agreed." Malledich looked at me curiously.

"That will have pleased your father."

I flushed again, and bit my lip.

"I am no longer living with my father, sir."

"Oh", he said, sounding idly surprised, "have you found a House to go to?"

"No, sir", I said. "So where may I find you if I have a job for you, Tay?"

I looked up at him. He eyes, in their deep wrinkled sockets looked friendly as ever.

"Sir", I said, "I don't know. But when I have found myself somewhere to stay, I shall let you know of it."

He traced a line in the dust at his feet with his walking cane.

"Have you ever thought of applying to a House to take you in?"

I looked down again, feeling depressed for the first time in a day.

"No House would take me in. I have no connections, and no trade."

He nodded, in a way that seemed sympathetic.

"So if I need you, I'll find you down here, watching the girls go by?"

I smiled up at him.

"Yes, sir."

After a moment, he spoke again, his voice idle.

"So what was the deal he struck, friend Trekshtar?"

I looked at him. His eyes were almost closed, as if he were drowsing, but yet they seemed tightly focussed on me.

"Sir, I can't tell you that". "Surely, Tay, you can tell me? I'm an old friend - and an old friend of Trekshtar's if it come to that."

I shook my head.

"Sir, in this matter I served master Trekshtar, and served him as a confidential scribe. I cannot tell you."

He grinned, and pulled a gold out of his purse.

"I can pay too, Tay... and he'll never know."

I stood up, not knowing what to say. "Sir, that isn't the point. I took his money to do his job. If you gave me money for a job, a writing job like that, and then I told of it to someone else, you would think that very wrong of me. Sir, you would. And you would be right to, for it would be wrong of me. So I cannot. I'm honestly sorry, Sir."

Old Malledich grinned once more, and levered himself up from the bench.

"You'll do well yet, my lad", he said, flipping the gold towards me.

"Here, spend this on the girls!"

After he had gone, I found I could not settle again. I fretted about whether I should have spoken so to Malledich. The money I could get for labouring would barely feed me, but the money he could pay me would keep me well. I knew I could not afford to offend him - and yet I knew I had been right, and indeed he'd seemed to approve. And a gold is - well, something I don't see so often.

As I worried at it, a priest of the Cunt came by in so filmy a skirt, and so close by me, that I saw that the shadow in her groin was made up of curling hairs. Suddenly my mind was full of Beinnain again, but it was no more comfortable. If... if today... if... what would I do? I could not admit to her that I didn't know how. I'd look so foolish...

Well, everybody knows you can go to the House of the Cunt for councel about such things. And it was just across the road. And I was my own man now. And, I had spoken to most of the Houses about the God, perhaps I could go to them all... feeling greatly daring, I crossed the street, and found a doorway marked 'the Place of Councel'. Tentatively, I went in.

It was a small chamber, dark after the steet. There were two stools, set not far apart, and, against the wall, a raised pallette. The walls, to my surprise, were decorated with wonderful murals of horses. I don't know what I had expected, but it was not this. This felt... cleaner...

The woman sat on one of the stools. She seemed quite old to me, then; I suppose she could have been my mother, but only just. She was tall; even sitting I could see that. Her hair was the colour of flame. Her face was covered by a mask of leather straps. She sat calmly, patiently, while I stared around. At last she spoke; her voice very calm.

"You have not come here before."

I agreed that I had not. She asked what it was that I had come for.

I made a gesture of respect and said

"Lady, I have been raised in the cult of the Eye, and there are matters of doctrine which I do not understand. Lady, forgive, I am told that the God is a being of pure light and reason, and that women are filled with darkness. Yet I am told that I must speak of the God as 'She'. How can this be?"

She smiled, very cool.

"How can what be?"

"Why, how can the God be female if She is a being of light and reason?"

The smile; measured, cool.

"When the lightning strikes out of the thundercloud, where is the reason in that? When the fountain laughs at the sky, where is the reason in that? I ask you, sir, because women are incapable of reason, so that you must help me form the argument."

"Are you saying that the God in not pure reason?"

Bright, grey eyes, very direct.

"Tell me, sir, where did your life come from?"

Well, that's doctrine. I know that.

"From the God." She smiled again.

"Yes, but how did it come into being?"

"From the seed that my father planted within my mother."

"From the seed only?" I was puzzled. Surely everyone knew that?

"So if your father had planted the seed in the ground, you would have grown just the same?"

I had no answer.

"When your father planted his seed in your mother, was it light?"

I didn't know. I supposed so.

"Within your mother? I thought you said that there was darkness within women?"

Well, that is so. It is doctrine.

"So when your father planted his seed in your mother, and the God brought your life into being, it was dark."

Yes, I agreed, it must be so.

"Why is it not dark in this room?"

she asked, coolly. "Why", I said,

"because the light is shining in."

She smiled. "So where the light shines in it is not dark?"

No.

"But when the God made your life, it was dark."

I shook my head.

"Are you saying the God is not light?"

She nodded.

"I am a woman, and so I cannot reason. That is your doctrine. The God is a being of pure Light. That is your doctrine. All life comes from the God. That is your doctrine. Your life came in darkness. That is a fact. Isn't it a good thing women can't reason?" She shrugged, laughed, and said

"this is all very important, and it is good that you should ask it. But it is not what you came to talk to me about."

I blushed. I stalled, and stumbled, and eventually blurted forth my desire, and my anxiety, in a flood. How is a woman made? What must I do, to find her darkness? What did that mean? She smiled.

"That is much more easy to tell", she said.

"First, you want to know how a woman is made. Look"

- she stood, and with a simple movement, took off her skirt, so that she was naked but for the straps on her face. She went over to the pallette, and sat on it. In her cool, clear voice she told me how women are different, opening folds of flesh with her fingers to show the concealed things, saying what a woman might find pleasant to have caressed, and how, and when. She told me what a man's part is, and how he must do it, and where; and how to know when to do it, and how to know when not to. She told me that women were different; that 'my girl' would not look just like her, nor like the same caresses. I must pay attention, watch, listen, learn.

It was hard to listen to her. Something in my belly felt afraid. When she bade me touch, that came harder. At the last, when she asked me in that cool, clear voice whether I should like to practice, there, I fled out into the brilliance of the street.

I sat again under the maple tree and felt foolish. I had asked, and she had taken much time - time and care and patience - to show me; and I had been unmannerly. I did not know why I was afraid. I was afraid. I drew the glyphs in the dust with my feet, and watched the folk go by. Soon Beinnain would be here, and... and... I did not know. The day was hot. I drowsed.

Suddenly there were hands over my eyes, and a laughing voice saying "guess who!"

and it was her and she kissed me and then I wasn't afraid and although I didn't know what would happen it didn't matter. Today she wore an apricot tunic. She was more beautiful than I had remembered. There were girls with her - three. I expect they had names. I expect they were pretty. She called me 'my faithful guide', which pleased me, until I saw that it was a joke, and then it confused me. They were all in high spirits. Someone said it was too hot, they wanted to swim. Beinnain said

"my faithful guide will know a place", and I did, so we set off up River Street after a quick detour into the Food Market.

I asked what they had been doing all morning; it was a mistake. They had been rehearsing. They thought the way the Rite was done in the City was dull. Impressive, but not a lot of fun. They made jokes about how it was done in their home villages, most of which seemed to be about getting muddy, or about men being exhausted, not able to finish the job. I could tell that each was making a wilder exageration than the last, but I couldn't work out what it was they were describing. I tried to look aloof as if all this was beneath me. I felt lost. They pointed to men passing in the street - young men in their full strength, older than me, bigger than me - and made comments like "now, he could pump us all full of spunk", and giggling. I tagged along beside Beinnain, her skin blazing in my vision, sucking at my fingers like a whirlpool. I felt unnoticed, unwanted. I felt like a child trailing busy adults.

At last we were out of the city, walking up the river bank past the reed beds, watching the little birds that rustle and twitter among the stems, and the other birds that run and swim through the water margins. One of the girls pointed to a rich farmstead that was near by, saying that it looked very much like her parent's House. Another said something about her parent's House, which was in the hills, and built of stone. She turned to me and said

"what's your House like, city kid?"

It isn't a shameful thing not to belong to a House. It isn't! I could feel red tears rising behind my eyes. I thought of the high, rickety walkways of the alley, and the tiny room where my father had raised me. I struggled to find a lie to tell. Beinnain was looking at me. I thought that I'd never see her again. Suddenly she gave a screech and said

"Oh! oh... piss. I've lost my earing!"

It was really crass. She hadn't been wearing any earings. Still, I helped her hunt back down the path with real gratitude, and when she caught my hand and squeezed it I felt alright after all.

We didn't find the earing.

After a good search, we gave up. She said it was only a cheap one anyway, and it could be anywhere. Better to go on. We came at last to the place I had intended, where three large willow trees cluster around a little beach. There's shade there, and you can get into the water without cutting your feet on reed stems. I splashed in, just as I was, till I was thigh deep in the water, and bent to scoop a huge double handful into my face and hair. I stood up and stretched, looking up at the High Place, dark now against the incandescent blue.

I was pushed from behind, and fell my length into the cool green water. Puffing and gasping I twisted round. It was Beinnain. And she was naked. There aren't words for her and I won't try. She is as beautiful as the Sun.

She laughs, and flicks water at me. I stare at her. She has no angles. Her flesh swells and curves like water on stones, smooth, flowing, brown. The hair on her cunt is dark, not flame coloured. She laughs again.

"Has the sun addled your brains?"

No, Beinnain, you have; you are brighter than the Sun. She's flicking water at me again. I lunge towards her but she's away, swimming. I dive after her. She swims better than I. I've lost her. I stick my head up, and look around. Another girl is naked on the beach. She does not hold my eyes. There's a curly head in the water, and one too dark. Where is she?

My legs are grabbed from below, and I go down. We struggle in the water. I touch things - my hands burn... she's away again. We play in the water for a long time. Her teasing is generous. At last she swims into the shallows, and stands up, wobbly from the water. I follow, diffident. She starts to unplait her hair. She calls to one of her friends - they're lying under the trees - for her purse. Toss! She has it. She takes a bar of soap from it, and tosses it back. She turns to me.

"Will you wash my hair?"

She is kneeling in front of me in the water. My hands cup her head, fork through her hair. It is soft as silk, strong as weed stems, long as summer. I twist it about my arms, lather it, work it. At last she says

"Enough! I'm cold!"

I rinse it quickly with splashing handfuls of water. I help her up, and lead her ashore.

She rubs herself dry on the tunic. We sit around and eat. My eyes eat her. Long flanks, dimpled, flowing. Round breasts, bold, helmeted. Smooth belly, soft, curving. Dark cunt, hidden, secret. Oh, Beinnain, there is darkness in you. Will I taste it? Will it drown me?

The other girls are naked too, I think. I do not see them. There is talk. We do not talk. Suddenly they are bored. Come on, they say, let's go back to the City.

"I need to dry my hair"

says Beinnain. "You go. We'll come later."

They've gone. We have eaten the food. We lie. We are not touching. We are not speaking. My tunic is almost dry. My damp loincloth itches. I am too embarassed to scratch. I move, irritated. She laughs.

"Take it off"

I laugh. I take it off. Still I am careful that she should not see my... private parts. My plough? She sits up and takes out a comb. She starts to comb her hair.

"May I?"

I may. I do. It falls around her like a robe. So rich, so thick, so smooth, so strong. I am lost in it. She sits; I kneel behind, combing, delicately picking at knots. The long, silent afternoon stretches on.

At last it is dry under my hands, and flows free without tangles. She pulls away, and kneels, facing me.

"Tay?"

"Mmm..." "Did you mother have a House?"

"My father says so."

Her hands are on my shoulders. She looks straight into my face.

"What was it called?"

I shake my head. "Did your father ever have a House?"

I nod. I cannot meet her gaze. "What was it called?"

I look up. Is this the end, now?

"It was the House of the Eye."

Look at me, I am the son of a man who could not keep his vows. She looks at me. Her hands are on my shoulders. I cannot meet her gaze.

She releases her hands. She smiles. She lies back in the soft grass of the waterside.

"Come on, then?"

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Copyright (c) Simon Brooke 1992-1995

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