The Green Knight (41 page)

The impossible situation had been planned with surprising speed. Clement, after his last talk with Bellamy, had mentioned the idea of a ‘return to the scene of the crime' to Lucas, who had been amused by it. Bellamy, whose only method of meeting Peter was hanging around The Castle, had asked his ‘principal', who was now in a better temper, if he would meet Lucas to discuss it. Peter agreed. Lucas agreed. Clement however, when informing Bellamy of Lucas's ‘invitation', said grimly, ‘Your man comes at his own risk.' Bellamy too had mixed feelings. He did not really believe in what Clement called the ‘re-run', nor could he imagine what it could possibly be like. He simply trusted that another face-to-face meeting between the two adversaries might somehow cool the atmosphere and even bring forth some sort of understanding. He had urged Clement to beg Lucas to make some kind of concession, even the smallest conciliatory gesture might do some good.

However, sitting stiffly upon his stiff chair and facing the pair behind the big desk, Clement grim and Lucas sardonic, it seemed to Bellamy that it had all been a great mistake. He thought, they
hate
each other, that's what it comes to, in coming here each of them is hoping to find out how to destroy the other. If they agree to go back
there
it will end in catastrophe, the whole idea is crazy. Still, Clement had said that Lucas was ‘amused', and Peter was apparently collected and relaxed. He looked, Bellamy thought, bigger, sturdier, his abundant curly hair a glowing brown, his rounded cheeks pink from the cold, his ample lips slightly pouted as if with satisfaction and presence, as he gazed about the room. He was neat, as usual, with a suit, complete with waistcoat, of soft dark grey tweed, and a dark green tie. Lucas was wearing, over shirt and trousers, a loose brown smock-like garment which usually appeared at this time in the winter. His dark straight oily hair, tucked back, framed his face, his thin sharp nose, his black slit eyes. His thin lips were parted slightly showing his long white teeth in what was perhaps a smile, while he stroked his eyebrows thoughtfully with one graceful hand. He looked like an official in some foreign place, some eastern place, a consulate maybe, or indeed like a judge or less formal dispenser of laws or fiats, presiding over a court-martial or people's court. Bellamy and Clement, as subordinates, scribes or junior officers, were more simply attired, Bellamy in his usual black jacket and trousers, and white (not altogether clean) shirt, and Clement in jeans and a blue jersey from the top of which his shirt rather carelessly emerged. Bellamy tried in vain to catch his eye.

‘A long way?' said Lucas in answer to Peter's question. ‘I don't think we have moved at all. What is it you want to talk about?'

After a moment's pause Peter went on, ‘You are a historian and will know of cases of men of power who, having hastily slain their enemy, or discreetly arranged his removal, have later blamed themselves for having forfeited the moral pleasure of forgiving him.'

This seemed to amuse Lucas. ‘There are such cases but I think that what the men of power, as you call them, were sorry to have forfeited was nothing moral, but simply kudos, fame, renown. Anyway I cannot see this allegory as having any relevance to our arrangements. Perhaps it pleases you to indicate that you are able at any time to arrange my removal, which as far as I am concerned is not news. Please let us not mess around or play about, I am rather busy.'

Peter, unhurried, leaning back in his chair and staring fixedly at Lucas, continued. ‘Perhaps it is indeed more gratifying, as well as more blessed, to forgive rather than to punish. It is a pleasure which God indulges in from time to time, we are told. As a Jew you will be familiar with the Psalms, the prayer of David – “Deliver me from blood guiltiness, oh God”.'

‘You evidently persist in thinking I am Jewish,' said Lucas conversationally, ‘but so far as I know there is no evidence for this view.'

‘You are Jewish. You look Jewish. You think Jewish. I know you are Jewish. Heine said that being Greek is a young man's game, one ages into becoming a Jew. I believe you are undergoing just this metamorphosis.'

‘You wish to establish a bond between us. I reject this bond. Let us not become sentimental. I gather that you expressed a wish to return to the place where, so unfortunately for both of us, we met.'

‘You say unfortunately,' said Peter, who had been smiling during these exchanges, ‘that seems to me a hasty thoughtless remark. Three people met at that place. Unfortunately indeed for me. But for you and your brother I played the part of a saviour.'

‘This ground has been gone over, I think', said Lucas.

There was a silence, Peter staring at Lucas, Lucas leaning his head upon his hand and moving some paper upon his desk, Clement gazing at the picture of his grandmother. Bellamy, looking quickly at the door, thought, if this silence is allowed to go on Lucas will throw us all out. Not knowing what he was going to say he began, ‘I think – '

Peter interrupted him. ‘May I ask a question which has been troubling me?'

‘Yes.'

‘Exactly why did you want to kill your brother?'

Lucas, without hesitation and looking mildly at Peter, said, ‘Because my mother preferred him to me.'

‘I see. I understand completely. I hope you will excuse my asking.'

Bellamy said, ‘I think I should say here that – '

‘I doubt if you understand
completely,'
said Lucas to Peter. ‘You said you were a psychiatrist – or was it a psychoanalyst?'

‘The latter – '

Bellamy said, ‘I think I should say here that Clement has told me exactly what happened and I believe him.'

There was a moment of almost embarrassed silence. Then Clement, suddenly staring at Peter, said in a cold voice, ‘I very much resent the way in which at that recent meeting you forced me to – '

‘To tell lies?'

‘Who else have you told except for Bellamy?' said Lucas to Clement, interested.

‘No one.'

‘I didn't force you to do anything,' said Peter. ‘I'm sorry I roughed you up a bit after the party. Never mind. Well, what does Lucas think about our idea of a re-enactment? It is several months, I think, a sort of anniversary.'

‘What is the point of this celebration?'

‘I am afraid that my poor Bellamy, who believes in angels, thinks that somehow a wand may be waved, lies will become truth, war will become peace, all will be seen to be harmless and innocent after all, and we shall embrace each other. I myself cannot hope for a miracle – '

‘What then?'

‘I'm not sure – a sort of rite of purification – a sort of mystery play – a gamble, a gesture – the intervention of a god – well, why do I not say God – '

‘I do not understand you,' said Lucas, ‘you begin to sound as mad as your poor Bellamy.'

‘But you also said – ' Bellamy began.

‘Yes, yes, there is another thing. Ever since that – that first event – I have had difficulties in remembering – well, that is natural, after such a blow to the head. But I feel increasingly sure that there is something, some
great thing,
which that blow has annihilated, as if a huge part of my personality has been blotted out. I feel that if I could only regain it, draw it back to me out of the dark, this could help me – '

‘The forgotten thing may be something terrible,' said Lucas, ‘that you are better without. However, I understand your wish and your idea, as a psychoanalyst I daresay you have seen such cases. You might be able to resume your work. You might even imagine it into a symbolic revenge without bloodshed, something rather aesthetic and picturesque.'

‘I could not be more serious.'

‘You mean you are offering me an olive branch?'

‘Yes, what else do you think I have been doing since I arrived here?'

‘I have little notion of what you are doing, I did not invite you.'

‘There is another thing which I would like to ask.'

‘What?'

‘Could I see it again?'

‘See what?'

‘The – the – weapon – the murder weapon – '

The pale sunlight had faded and the room was darker, Lucas switched on the lamp. Then he drew the wooden club out of a drawer and put it on the desk where it rolled slightly, then lay, its smooth grainy surface shining, looking
new.
Lucas broke the silence that followed by observing to Clement, ‘Do you remember that game of “Dogs” we used to play in the cellar?'

Peter said softly, ‘Another witness is now present. So, do you agree with what I am saying?'

Lucas said, touching the club and rolling it to and fro, ‘I don't know, you have said so many things. I am afraid you are a romantic and I am not.'

Peter said, even more softly,
‘I must be satisfied.'

Lucas, putting away the club, now looking at him and speaking in a patient tone, said, ‘I am afraid you are still suffering from a delusion. You used the word “murder”. There was no murder. I didn't murder you. It was an
accident,
you were the victim of an
accident.'

‘Your profound desire to murder
him
inspired you to murder
me.
You were mad with rage because your plan had been frustrated. Because of you I am only half alive. You have ruined my life.'

‘So you keep saying. But you are alive, you have recovered, you are better, you are well, I can see you are well, you even have a lively imagination. I have offered you money, you say you have plenty of money, that is good too, innumerable pleasures are at your disposal. I never intended to kill you, I had no motive to kill you, I did not kill you, you were there
accidentally.
I hit you because you accosted me. How often must I say this? Please do not interrupt me, please
concentrate
, you said you had lost your power of concentration, but surely you can
think
enough to see that all your talk about restitution and revenge – and by restitution I think you mean revenge – can have no meaning, there is no
place
here for these concepts. I recognise no obligation to you, I have committed no crime against you, I see no reason why you should speak of forgiving me, the question simply does not arise. Do please look calmly at the matter, you can follow an argument if you try, and see the sheer
rationality
of what I am saying – and for heaven's sake let your curious construction of sin and forgiveness and innocence and revenge and so on fall quietly to pieces. Why do you
distress
yourself so? Try to understand that you simply have
the wrong picture.
Since coming here you have spoken quietly, you have mentioned peace – did you not mention peace? At any rate an olive branch, and I agree with you that this is not a matter for shouting. I want to get on with my work and not be continually disturbed by you, and I am sure that when you have freed your mind of these fruitless obsessions you will find many attractive and valuable things to do with your life. Why torment yourself when you might be happy? You see, I wish you well. So let us part calmly and quietly and terminate this tedious discussion for good.'

During this speech Lucas, sitting upright, his hands stretched out palms downward on the desk, had been looking directly at Peter and speaking slowly in a calm lucid tone.

Peter, who had been leaning back in his chair, sat upright, then leaned forward, drawing in his lips and listening intently. He replied, still speaking quietly. ‘You are a devil. This is lying talk and you know it. You are trying to confuse me. Your evil intent against him was turned against me. You are a wicked man and you have performed an evil act. Somebody has to pay.'

Lucas, abandoning his magisterial pose, replied, ‘So you are changing your tune. As for forgiveness, about which you rant, my brother has forgiven me, you can see that, he is sitting beside me. If he can do it, surely your forgiveness, if you insist upon it, may be taken for granted without any more embarrassing ceremonies!'

Peter, after a pause, said, ‘You think my anger and my threats are just jokes.'

‘Not at all, you spoke most realistically about cutting off my hands, like wire cutting cheese.'

‘I would like to send you to hell.'

‘My dear, I live in hell, and have done so since I was a small child.'

‘Since I regained my mind I have thought, and dreamt too, of nothing but of killing you.'

‘You can do it any time, if you don't mind going to prison.'

‘Only I wanted to see your face again and to know who was your intended victim. You are a vicious animal and you deserve to die. But I don't want to kill you, that is too painless a fate. I assure you I am in deadly earnest. I am used to bloodshed, as I told you I was trained as a surgeon. I want to maim and cripple you, I want to damage your mind – '

‘One reward of living in hell is a certain kind of courage. I do not fear anything, certainly not morality, or your foul fantasies either. Should you not be ashamed of them? Let your venom fade, why cherish it so, it must be exceedingly painful.'

‘And I have left a note with my lawyer and if anything happens to me, you are to blame!'

Lucas laughed. ‘My dear man, I am not threatening you. And let me reassure you that I have not left any such note with my lawyer!'

Peter stood up, kicking his chair violently away behind him. Bellamy leapt up hastily too, knocking over his chair and picking it up again. Clement moved his chair forward. Lucas had put an elbow on the desk and propped his chin on his hand.

Peter picked up his coat and hat from the floor. ‘I am your judge.' He spoke thickly, in extreme emotion. ‘The heavens – shall be rolled together – as a scroll – '