The Farm Ch. 06

And so the clock on the mantel ticked and chimed. Gordy looked up from his unread book to find Prize's blue eyes fixed on him. "Do you something to say?" Prize dropped his gaze to the rug and shook his head, and Gordy read the same page again. Gordy looked again. Prize remained on his knees, his head bent. The skin on his newly exposed neck was fair and vulnerable. Gordy shifted on his seat. He's done many things, but he didn't rape. He didn't use boys. He stood and walked to the armoire and touched the wood, ran a finger on the bronze handle, inserted the key. The cough again, deeper and rattling came from behind him. Gordy looked quickly, but Prize's head was turned to the window that offered a view of the hill behind the cottage.

Gordy poured a sherry and returned to his book. The chain slid on the floor and Prize eased himself down on the carpet and faced the fire. His shoulder blades pulled back and his wrists still tightly cuffed. Gordy rose and walked up behind him and placed his hand on Prize's arm and unfastened the cuffs. Prize shrank from the touch but didn't resist. He kept his eyes on the fire. His skin was too warm. His face flushed. Gordy felt the heat rising from his body.

"Is it time?" The voice a horse whisper. "Will it be now?" He turned flat, dull eyes to Gordy. The pulse in his neck raced.

Gordy laid his hand on Prize's chest and felt the rattle. He saw the flutter beneath his ribs. He pulled the key from his pocket and the shackle snicked open and he pulled the unresisting Prize to his feet. Fear jumped in his chest. He had to support him as they crossed the room. Prize's cough filled the room. He lost his balance briefly and Gordy pulled him closer. They began the assent of the stairs.

"Please, I'll walk alone. I'm not afraid and won't look like I am. I did think my hands would be bound. Will they do that at the top? Where's my tunic?" Prize pulled free and Gordy stood in amazement; his sleepwalker was back. He watched Prize square his shoulders and climb two more steps. He turned and looked out, his gaze much farther than the parlor. "I didn't think it would be so hot." He turned to Gordy; his legs buckled and he went boneless and fell on the steps.

Gordy half carried half dragged Prize up the last steps and down the hall to the big bedroom. Hot, so hot and the cough and the rattle. Dread rose and perspiration tickled in his armpits. Gordy pulled back the damask coverlet on his bed and lifted Prize into his arms and placed him on cool sheets. He'd spent the afternoon trying to ignore Prize. He hadn't seen the fever advancing. He ignored the coughs. He should have noticed more. He pulled up the blankets and coverlet and tucked them around Prize. He picked up his unresisting arm and tucked it under the blankets. Eyes moved under closed lids. The lips were dry and pale. Gordy left him and went to the well for cool water. The sun burned blood red as it sank behind the hill. The sky to the east grew purple. Gordy filled the pitcher and returned to the cottage. He stopped at the door and listened. Nothing but the tick of the mantel clock. Then the cough.

He sat on the bed, one knee bent on the coverlet the other on the floor and lifted Prize and supported his head. He placed the cup to his lips. "Here, drink." Most of the water ran down Prize's chin and onto his chest. He shivered.

***

The caravan overtook the lama as he rested on a rock by the side of the trail. Old and yellow, his staff in one thin hand he stood only five feet tall with robes of saffron and pointed yellow hat on his bald head. The monk extended his begging bowl. Aarmaan paused and placed his flat bread in the worn bowl. He offered him a drink from his skin of water. The monk drank deeply his obsidian eyes fixed on Aarmaan's blue.

"Blessings on you for your kindness." He lifted the bread to his lips.

Aarmaan smiled and shifted the jazail on his shoulder. "Are you traveling far?"

The lama smiled. "All mankind travels far. Am I no different. I also hope to visit the sea. To enjoy a great stretch of water."

"We stop soon to make camp. Come with me and I'll see you get a seat near the fire and hot food." Aarmaan extended his hand to help the old man to his feet. "There will be stories."

"How can I say no to such a grand offer."

And they walked side by side. At times Aarmaan took the lama's elbow to help him along. He told the lama what he knew of the ocean and the old man nodded as he considered the merits of a vast water. Their progress was slow and they were overtaken by the Bactrian, The Cobra, and her white calf as she moved with slow flat-footed steps. Aarmaan moved to place himself between the camel and the lama. "She bites," he said in explanation.

The lama smiled and reached into his robe and pulled out the remnants of the flat bread and offered it to The Cobra and stroked the great shaggy neck. "She worries for her child." The great camel turned her head and looked at the lama, twitched her split upper lip around the bread, and returned to her walking. "They are not so different from people. One great hurt and they return in kind. Thus it spreads. One caring touch and another will help with the healing."

The white calf ran between them. The lama rubbed its forehead and sent it on to walk at its mother's side. Tiny dust devils danced along the trail and clouds raced across the sky.

***

Behnam finished his story and the men squatting around the fire nodded in approval. Eyes turned to Aarmaan for just the evening before he had promised a story. He began. He told of a one-eyed giant who owned many sheep and how he was blinded and outwitted by traveler called No Man who saved himself and his companions from the man-eater. The men smiled and congratulated Aarmaan on his story for there were strange beings in the mountains and it was good to know how to outwit them.

The lama turned to Aarmaan and a smile deepened the wrinkles on his face. "I have a story for you. Step away from the fire." The lama grasped Aarmaan's wrist with small fingers of iron once they were out of earshot. "Always remember this, you are a good man." Aarmaan turned his head away. "Believe me, No Man. You will travel far on the Wheel of Life. You will die seven times and you will save a man." Aarmaan tried to pull free and the grip tightened. "You will do these things."

Aarmaan never told Rahim of the lama's words when he went to his tent, but turned in his arms in the predawn and placed his ear to his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. In the morning the lama was gone.

***

Gordy lit the bedroom lamps and returned to the carved balloon-back chair he'd pulled next to the bed. Prize's hair lay damp with sweat. His face colorless but for two bright fever spots on his cheeks. Each breath a labor. His pulse fluttered in his neck. Gordy bathed his face with cool water. Hands clutched the bed covers. Gordy felt his own fear rise. He'd done this. He crossed the room with long strides and paused at the door and watched as Prize shifted his head on the pillow; he turned and ran down the stairs.