Chapter Twenty Four – Healing
The farm was in a narrow valley, steep sided. There was woodland and a stream running in a now-russet ribbon alongside. A high wall surrounded it and at the gate Pazu stopped and listened. Cows mooed in a shed and hens clucked but there was no sign of people. It was a small place, much smaller than Tanner and Morwen's, a little house, timber built, a cow shed and a hut in which a cart stood. They went across the yard and called their hellos at the door. No answer. They went in. A simple room lay beyond the door, a floor of red tiles, whitewashed walls, a stone fireplace and basic furniture. A cupboard had fallen off one wall and the crockery contents were broken. A chair lay on its side.
"Hello? Anyone home?"
Silence.
"Pazu, those cows need milking. I can tell. They're mooing in pain."
"Where's the farmer then? Hello?"
They went into the next room, a kitchen. The place was a mess, everything overturned and broken, the hearth cold. Pazu put his hand to the ashes and knew no fire had been lit there for two or three days. There was a door to the rear of the house. He stuck his head out, a small vegetable garden. Another small door in the kitchen concealed a steep narrow stair.
Cautiously he went up.
At the top the structure of the building was even simpler, the stair opened into just one large room, open to the roof beams, a double bed, a smaller bed and a cot. The scene of desolation was repeated, things broken, things overturned. There were small windows on two sides and Pazu looked out of both. One faced the walled yard, the other the garden. There was nothing unusual outside. The farmer and his family had vanished. He opened the window over the garden.
"Hello? Anyone?"
A bird sang, the cows mooed. He went back down.
"I've got to milk those cows, they're suffering."
"I'll come with you."
They went across to the shed and inside were three brown cows, obviously in discomfort, their udders huge. Sheeta got a pail and a stool down from a hook on the wall and set to work. Pazu went outside and around the shed. Built onto the back of it was a hen coop, he looked in. Taking off his cap he picked out seven eggs. Back inside the cow shed he put the cap down carefully and went around the yard. The place had either seen unwelcome visitors or something had caused the farmer and his family to leave in a hurry. A great hurry, too fast to even let their cows out, to put possessions on their cart.
--I--
---o-o-oOo-o-o---
I I
Night had fallen. They had cleaned up the house, sweeping out all that was broken and putting back all that wasn't. Pazu found a wood store behind the house, he lit fires in the downstairs rooms and placed lit candles in each, filling the place with warmth and cheer. In the bedroom he opened a wardrobe, simple clothes, not many. A man, a woman, maybe two boys and a small child, a girl. He picked up a tiny dress and wondered what had happened here. He made up the big bed and put everything of a personal nature that reminded him of the farmer's family out of sight, even stripping the smaller bed down to its frame, standing it on its end and moving the wardrobe in front of it. He put the baby's cot inside the wardrobe. As he finished he smelled cooking.
"Omelette?"
She asked as he descended the stair. He realised he was starving. She brought an iron skillet over from the fire and spooned out a huge thick omelette, stuffed with vegetables. With a fish slice she cut it in two and scooped one half onto a second plate. Ravenous he tucked in. She dropped the skillet by the sink and joined him, she was very hungry too.
"Vegetables out in the garden. Potatoes, carrots, onions, peas, beans. Nothing in the house though, except for some cooking ingredients – flour, salt, sugar, butter. It seems to have been cleaned out."
"Just going outside. I want to look around."
"Bring a pail of water in with you."
Pazu made another circuit of the property. He gave the hens some seed and the cattle fresh straw. They would need taking out into a field in the morning. He checked the boundary wall and gate, barring the latter with its long bolt-beam. He checked the farm's layout. From the lane the only way in was through this gate. Around the back though, through the trees the garden and back door were accessible. He looked quickly in the cart shed but it was too dark in there to see much. Looking back at the house he saw a few chinks of light showing at the edges of shutters and decided to stuff those with cloths. Nothing to be done about the smoke from the chimney. He wasn't concerned about the family returning, he felt that wasn't going to happen. He just didn't want them to advertise their presence more than they had to. He drew water from the well and went back inside, bolting both doors. More secure, he felt better.
Sheeta washed up and then they both realised they were disgustingly filthy. There was a big tin bath hanging on a hook in the kitchen. Sheeta carried it into the main room and stood it in front of the fire. There was a copper kettle and a hook to hang it over the fire. Pazu brought in more firewood and built the fire up, then he went back out and brought in more water. It took a while to heat enough but eventually a steaming bath was ready. Sheeta had found towels on a shelf in the kitchen. Even, and best of all, a cake of soap.
"Ladies first. I'll wait next door."
He sat in the kitchen. He tried to keep himself busy but he could hear her. The thud of her boots as she dropped them on the floor. He closed his eyes and imagined her wiggling out of the tight riding britches. Silence for a few moments, then a gentle splash and a sigh. More splashing. His mind went back to the stream. White skin and sparkling water. Her voice interrupted his dream.
"Oh, Pazu, this is so good. I've not sat in hot water since Morwen's. Mmm…"
He sat quietly. Every little splash and drip came to him. His mind saw where the water splashed, the places from where it dripped. Sweet torture. He got the revolver from the bag, threw the three empty shell cases into the fire then sat cleaning it, wiping the plump barrel with the oily rag. He counted the bullets, digging them out of the dark damp corners of the knapsack, wiping them and putting them in one of the four smaller pockets. In there was the bag of sweets. Only a few left now. She had eaten all the reustaub ones. Again he saw the strawberry sweet, pink and shiny and dripping the delicate moisture from her mouth.
damn, stop it
He got up, added wood to the fire and put a pan of water on for tea. Anything to keep his mind off what was next door.
"Pazu?"
"Yes."
"Would you come here please."
"What is it?"
"Would you. I mean do you mind washing my hair?"
Pazu froze, tea packet in hand. An image of her bathing came to him. White skin, arms raised, washing under them. Splash. Drip.
"Uh…"
"It's alright. I won't bite."
"How can I wash you without looking?"
"I'm under water, you silly boy."
"I'm not silly."
"Tsuru(1). Anyway, you're not afraid are you?"
"Me scared? 'Course not."
"I didn't say scared, I said afraid. It's different."
"No, not scared or afraid, not me."
"You can come in then can't you?"
eh? how did that happen?
"Alright."
He opened the door and looked in. The room was lit by the blazing fire and by the candles he'd placed on windowsill and mantel. Sheeta was sat sideways to the fire, her back to him. Again, the first thing he noticed was how white her skin was.
"You could wash your own hair."
"I could, but I thought you would like to. You said how much you liked it."
trapped me again
"What do you want me to do?"
"Come here, get the kettle of water and wet my hair."
As he went around her to the fireplace he glanced at her and was relieved to see that the bathwater covered her front. She had already washed and the water was opaque, soapy. He knelt kettle in hand.
"Oh, you're still filthy. Look at you!"
He looked. His hands and arms were black with several days grime and sweat.
"I'll go wash them."
"Wash here. You'll be getting in here soon anyway."
"Um."
"What now?"
"Uhr…"
"Just take your shirt off."
"Are you sure?"
"You were fine showing me a lot more the other afternoon!"
"I didn't care then, I couldn't have cared less. Now is different."
"Why?"
"Because. You've got no clothes on."
"Oh, Pazu," she rolled her eyes, "just because a person might have no clothes on doesn't mean it's wrong, or dirty, or… or babies might get made."
"You're making fun of me."
"No I'm not. You act like being undressed is wrong. It isn't. It's what people think or do that's wrong. Our bodies come from Lucita the mother spirit. She makes beautiful bodies. Like yours. She doesn't do it wrong, Pazu, she's had lots of practice. The only reason you think it's wrong to see someone without clothes is because your village and family brought you up to think like that."
"So my mom and dad were wrong. Is that it?"
"Yes. In this case, yes. I'm sorry, but they were. Look how embarrassed you get when I take my clothes off. If I stood up now I expect you'd run out the room. That would be their doing."
"You make them sound wicked."
"No, not wicked, just misguided. Almost everyone is. And that is very sad. Shame doesn't come from Lucita, Pazu, it comes from men. Shall I stand up?"
"No."
"See? That's shame. Look how it hurts you. I'm not ashamed of me Pazu and you shouldn't be either."
"I'm worried."
"About what?"
"How I might react."
"That's different. In what way?"
"You know I said I wasn't scared Sheeta? Well, I am. I'm scared of what I might do. I…"
"You'd like to touch me?"
how I felt. at the stream. wanting to do something wrong to her, something almost violent
and Tanner had said...
he'd said that was his body wanting to make babies
"Sheeta, you seem to know so much more about this than me. I'm scared that we might make a baby, I… uh. I don't know how to. And I'm afraid we might. By accident."
She looked at him and thought how lovely he was. His innocence was so beautiful. She could hug him right now, filthy arms and all.
"I told you in the barn. Lots of things need to happen to make a baby. It doesn't happen by accident, Pazu, by just touching. And I don't want to. Not now, not for a long time. I think we are quite grown up, I think we can choose not to, even though we may feel like we want to, we are sensible enough to resist. That's the difference between seeing someone unclothed and liking them and wanting to do things and being unable to resist – and seeing them unclothed and just thinking how beautiful they are. Appreciating the beautiful work of Lucita. Do you understand?"
"I think so. I still have these strong feelings though."
"You're intelligent. You're strong. You can resist those feelings. If you care a lot about another person you can resist. It's easy. It's called respect for that person. You care about me?"
"Of course!"
"I know. Because of the other evening in the barn. I like you a lot too. I think we respect each other. Yes?"
"Yes. I think so."
"Good."
And she stood up, smoothly, quickly. No warning. She stood, hands at her sides, dripping.
Pazu was so shocked he didn't know what to do. He froze in place.
"Sheeta…I."
"Look at me Pazu. I want you to."
"Uh…"
"I'm not ashamed. I'm not embarrassed. And I have nothing on. So you shouldn't be either."
Water dripped from her whiteness. She glistened, she shone in the firelight. The only thing she wore was her blue stone on its leather strand. A drop of water hung from the stone, a star in the firelight. The droplet grew and dripped and ran down. Pazu watched it trickle down her skin. The warm light flickered and lit up one side of her, glowing and golden. Her other side was in shadow, shadows pooled below where she curved, under and between. He stood up.
"Sheeta…"
"What, Pazu? What is it?"
"Uh. You… You're."
"Remember what I said. Don't feel shame. Don't be embarrassed. Lucita made me. She's very good at what she does. She made me with love. I love her, I'm proud to come from the seed and egg she blessed with her kiss. I've seen you Pazu, you are beautiful too. I can see that Lucita was happy the day she made you."
"Sheeta…"
"If you say anything please just use honest words."
He stared at her. She was...
"You're… You're the most beautiful thing. I've ever seen."
She smiled at him. She stood only a moment, while he looked. All he could do was look, at how she moved as she breathed, as she rose and fell, as her shape moved, lungs filling and emptying. He noticed how her arms rested differently to his own. His hung with elbows outwards, but she… her arms lay with the elbows turned inward, their slight bend mirroring the curve where her waist narrowed. Her stomach, the gentle dome of it, the small oval dent there in the centre, just like he had. And below. Below that. He swallowed again, his throat was dry. She bent her knees, turned sideways to him, reached her hands for the edge of the bath and gracefully, smoothly sat back down, the vision slid away, covered again by opaque water.
"Now you can take off your shirt and not be embarrassed."
She sat watching him while he stood remembering her.
"That water is getting cold."
"Uh, yes."
He set down the kettle, discarded his waistcoat and crossing his arms in front of him gripped his shirt and pulled it over his head. As he lifted the shirt an odd feeling came over him, it was one of the most peculiar sensations he'd ever felt. Despite her words and how she'd so sweetly encouraged him he still thought he would be embarrassed. But he wasn't, and not only that but he felt... How did he feel? Eager. Willing. He wanted her to see him, that was how he felt. He simply wanted to take his clothes off in front of her. He'd felt nothing like this before. As he lifted the shirt he wanted to be undressed with her, it felt. Good. He took the shirt off over his head and dropped it.
She sat, knees drawn up, her chin resting on them.
he's lovely, my how beautiful he is
"Good," she managed to keep her voice level, unassuming, "I've made you some room, you can wash there."
don't let your voice betray how you're feeling. oh, he's. he's gorgeous
Sheeta coughed.
"Alright?"
"Yes, fine, just some omelette going down."
He wet his arms then soaped and scrubbed. Rinsed. He soaped again, lifting them in turn and washing under them. She watched him. Watched the shape of him. His muscles. Sheeta felt something in her mid section stirring.
no. not yet. too soon, sheeta, put that aside.
"Ready?"
"Hm."
He knelt behind her and poured the clean warm water over her, running the fingers of his free hand through the heavy mass of hair. Even with the damage Muska had done to it, there was still lots of it. He couldn't imagine how long a mane it would be if she still had her pigtails and unbound them.
"Get it really wet. When you're done put more water on to heat."
"There's some left in the kettle."
"Not enough, it will need a good rinse. Fill it again."
He stood, went to the pail, tipped more water in the kettle and hung it over the fire. He turned back to her and saw her watching him. She had a funny look in her eyes, they were part closed, hooded, as though she were tired.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes. I am. Very alright."
I want. I want to touch him. this is madness, he said he'd felt like this and now I do, now I know what he feels
She put her teeth to her knee and bit herself, making it hurt to drive away her thoughts. She had known boys in Gondoa, had played with them, grown up with them. She had always been around them, and several of them had paid attention to her. They treated it as a joke, some of them, Sheeta the Princess. But some of them seemed to be more than friendly. Etume especially. It had been Etume who had first kissed her, two years ago, when she had first felt those tinglings of something, a slight ache that came only when he wasn't around and which went away when he was near. By the lakeshore they had sat, that afternoon before he left for his journey, his pead-lth-u'or(2), the journey all boys take, their year away, leaving as boys, returning as men. That last afternoon, the very last time she would see him. He had given her the keepsake of the music box, a parting gift. She had looked at him and felt then this feeling that Pazu described when he looked at her. She knew what this boy before her was feeling. That strong need to reach out. And touch, touch places where you shouldn't. A hot feeling where you felt clothes were in the way. And Etume had stood and held her, and kissed her and she'd not wanted him to go. But he had gone, smiling and turning at the top of the hill and waving his last wave.
He never came back. She had waited that year, then two years, her heart weighing heavier and more sorrowful with each dead week. And he never came back. Then Muska had come, and now she was here. And what she had felt for Etume she now felt for this boy, this funny, clumsy, beautiful, shy, brave, clueless, gorgeous boy who had come into her life, taking away the old one and giving her another. Taking away Etume and giving her himself. He had been so strong for her, done so much, risked so much, made her laugh. Made her care. Given up his whole life for her.
I think. I think… Paetsu yau ulve om(3)
He was soaping her hair, scooping up masses of it and piling it on her head, rubbing down to the scalp with his strong fingers. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, putting memories away.
"Alright?"
"Hm, just soap in my eye."
She began to relax, feeling his hands on her made her feel. How did it make her feel? Protected. And wanted. He wanted to do this and that made her feel that she had worth. Someone else in this world saw that she had worth. Wanted to be with her and near her for the simple pleasure of it. She wiped again. Stop it.
Pazu massaged her scalp, gently, slowly. He didn't want to hurt her or break anything. Move carefully, delicately, like when he was working on the small mechanisms of his flying machine in the basement. She made a small breathy sound.
"Are you alright?"
"I am, just relaxing. I feel tired."
"Oh."
Pazu scooped up the hair one final time.
"Wait. I'll get the clean water."
This time she didn't watch him, she stared at her knees. Enough emotion for one day.
"Close your eyes."
The warm water cascaded over her, he ran his fingers through, pushing out the soap and rinsed again, then a third time. A towel came over her and he rubbed vigorously.
"Here, let me."
She took the towel and wound it around her head, tucked in the end to make a turban.
"I'll dry it when I get out."
She looked up at him. He was staring at her.
"What is it?"
"Your back."
"Hm?"
"It's healed. Completely."
He knelt and ran his fingers low down across her shoulder.
"Can I look? Sit up."
She did so.
"No, more, can you kneel up?"
Again, she did so, her front came out of the water and droplets ran down her there and dripped, but Pazu didn't even notice. She felt his fingers on her, below her right shoulder blade and moving across her spine to her left side, low down. She could feel it was the same line where she had been hurt but now it was better. She knew it was.
"How did this happen? That bruise? It should last two or three weeks. And the skin, there's no scabs, no roughness at all. It's perfect. Sheeta?"
"The stone Pazu. I used the stone."
"A spell?"
"The spell of healing(4). I felt guilty using it on myself. It should be used to help others, it's wrong to use it on yourself."
"And the ankle as well?"
"Yes, the ankle too. I did it because of the ankle. I wanted to be of more use to Morwen. And to you. When you went into town with Tanner that first time. I wanted to go. So the night before I used it."
"That was the night I put flowers in your room. I saw the stone. It was doing something odd. Like it was alive. There was smoke inside it. Moving."
"Hm, it does. When its powers are used it becomes alive. It takes a day sometimes for it to grow calm again. It depends on the spell. It took three days for it to be still after we used the spell of destruction. While it is living it cannot be used again until it is still."
"I thought it was the moonlight."
"In the moonlight it is more powerful, when there is a conjunction of moons, of Ptamos and Tahro, it's more powerful still."
"Is that a good spell?"
"Hm, but it is meant to be used to heal others. There are bad spells as well, I told you before."
He sat back on his heels and looked at her skin.
"You need to bathe Pazu. I'll get out."
"I'll fetch more water."
While Pazu washed, Sheeta went upstairs and investigated the contents of the wardrobe. She put on the night shirt Morwen had given her, and for him he found a man's shirt. Tomorrow she would wash their clothes. She had seen something useful hanging up in the kitchen, a copper bed warming pan. She filled this with hot ashes from the fire and put it in the bed. She also lit a candle. She stood at the window looking at the moonlit farmyard and wondered where the farmer and his wife and children were. She bowed her head and asked Utomu(5) to watch over the family and protect them. She also said sorry for using their house, their bed, their food. She hated stealing but she was grateful that Utomu had led them to this place so they could rest, and so they could talk. She felt this was meant to happen. Utomu had provided this place of refuge for them. So they could be refreshed and so they could grow. Perhaps Utomu and Lucita had met and spoken about them, had arranged that they come here. So that she and Pazu might grow together into something more than what they were now. So that Sheeta might teach. Sheeta felt a special affinity for Lucita, but Lucita was always close to Maerth-dhu and he was a spirit you didn't want close. Whenever he was near, so was death. She considered this, Lucita and Utomu had met here, perhaps a few days ago, and agreed to guide Pazu and her here. If that were so, death had been here also.
--I--
---o-o-oOo-o-o---
I I
She had gone downstairs and taken the shirt in to him and then gone up to bed, lying quietly in the moonlit room, waiting, her heart fast and loud. She heard him coming up the stair and saw the outline of his shape in the blue darkness. She lay quiet and still as he sat on the bed. He lifted the blankets and slid in, lying near her but not touching. She felt his nearness, she wanted to be close to him, be with him but right now – nothing more. She worried that perhaps downstairs she had given him the wrong message. For long minutes in the dark they lay, not moving.
"Sheeta."
"Yes."
"I'm cold."
"It's warm by my feet. The warming pan was there."
Next to her the bed moved with his shifting weight. His feet were suddenly touching hers in the puddle of warmth the hot copper had made. She let him touch against her there.
"Hm, lovely and warm."
"Urh, you're cold though. Toes like ice."
"Sheeta."
"Yes."
"I'm still cold."
There was a pause.
"I'm warm, Pazu."
"Can I?"
"Yes."
Again the bed moved. His legs touched her, his knees, his stomach. She turned on her side towards him and his arm came around her, his chest was there and she pressed into it, her face into the hollow of his neck. She put her arm on him, around him. She squeezed, pressed herself to him.
"I'm tired Pazu, let's sleep."
"Yes. Go to sleep."
Darkness, warmth, comfort, his hand on her back, his legs against hers, his smell. She so needed this. Sheeta closed her eyes to stop the tears from coming.
"Sheeta, thank you."
"I haven't done anything."
"Thank you for taking me."
"Where?"
"On this journey."
"Where? Home? You're taking me."
"No, this journey. With you. Everything you are teaching me. Thank you."
"Still a long way to go."
"Is there?"
"Hm. Let's go together."
He held her tighter, kissed her hair. In the room - blue darkness of the moon. In her heart - sunshine; bright, rising, a new day.
"Pazu, kiss me good night."
She tilted her head up and he touched her lightly, briefly.
"Good night Sheeta."
"'Night."
"Pazu?"
"Yes?"
yau ulve om(3)
"Nothing. 'Night."
He hugged her tight. She was so tired that within five minutes her heart slowed and she breathed the slow breaths of those who know nothing but rest.
--I--
---o-o-oOo-o-o---
I I
Maerth-dhu was near the farmhouse, in the darkness on the moist earthy hillside above the shed. He and Lucita had come to their agreement and he was satisfied. His work here was done, rising into the night sky, his home, he departed.
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14 - 20 March 2007
(1) Tsuru sorry.
(2) Pead-lth-u'or The Search for Man. From "peadlth" to run, to hunt and "–u" the sound of a perfectly still wind, or silence. Making "pead-lth-u" to hunt quietly, to stalk, to seek or search. And finally "or" man. The search to become a man. A journey all boys must make when they reach puberty. They travel away for a year, alone and when they return they are considered men. Once men they can take a wife, carry weapons, set up a home and partake of the community pipe at feasts, the "Telle".
(3) For the moment, for the purposes of the plot, I can't translate this for you.
(4) In the movie, when Sheeta and Pazu are talking in the glider cockpit and Dola is listening in her room, Sheeta mentions to Pazu that she knows "lots of spells", she specifically mentions "spells for finding things, spells for healing."
(5) There are a great number of spirits and gods the Laputans honour. Utomu is the spirit who rides alongside travelers and who guides and protects them and brings them safely to their destination. If a traveler becomes lost or delayed or injured on his way it is because he did not place his faith in Utomu when he set out and did not thank him for a safe day's journey each evening. Sheeta, who has an affinity to Lucita, the Earth Mother, the spirit of life, knows that Utomu is not just a guide of earthly travelers, who journey from place to place. He guides spiritual travelers also, those who journey inside themselves. Those who desire to learn.
For author notes about Chapter Twenty Four, please see my forum (click on my pen name)