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Ah, to be here forever, and with her. And for the rest to be forgotten. No death, no killing.
She sighed; she said: "This is the Kingdom of Heaven. "
In the tiny hamlet below, the women had run barefoot after the men with clubs in hand. And the voodoo priest had screamed his ancient curses as they caught him in the graveyard. I had left the scene of the carnage; I'd climbed the mountain alone. Fleeing, angry, unable any longer to bear witness.
And she had come after, finding me in this ruin, clinging to something that I could understand. The old iron gate, the rusted bell; the brick pillars swathed in vines; things, fashioned by hands, which had endured. Oh, how she had mocked me.
The bell that had called the slaves, she said; this was the dwelling place of those who'd drenched this earth in blood; why was I hurt and driven here by the hymns of simple souls who had been exalted? Would that every such house had fallen to ruin. We had fought. Really fought, as lovers fight.
"Is that what you want?" she had said. "Not ever to taste blood again?"
"I was a simple thing, dangerous yes, but simple. I did what I did to stay alive. "
"Oh, you sadden me. Such lies. Such lies. What must I do to make you see? Are you so blind, so selfish!"
I'd glimpsed it again, the pain in her face, the sudden flash of hurt that humanized her utterly. I'd reached out for her.
And for hours we had been in each other's arms, or so it seemed.
And now the peace and the stillness; I walked back from the edge of the cliff, and I held her again. I heard her say as she looked up at the great towering clouds through which the moon poured forth its eerie light: "This is the Kingdom of Heaven. "
It did not matter anymore such simple things as lying down together, or sitting on a stone bench. Standing, my arms wound around her, this was pure happiness. And I'd drunk the nectar again, her nectar, even though I'd been weeping, and thinking ah, well, you are being dissolved as a pearl in wine. You're gone, you little devil-you're gone, you know-into her. You stood and watched them die; you stood and watched.
"There is no life without death," she whispered. "I am the way now, the way to the only hope of life without strife that there may ever be. " I felt her lips on my mouth. I wondered, would she ever do what she had done in the shrine? Would we lock together like that, taking the heated blood from each other?
"Listen to the singing in the villages, you can hear it. "
"Yes. "
"And then listen hard for the sounds of the city far below. Do you know how much death is in that city tonight? How many have been massacred? Do you know how many more will die at the hands of men, if we do not change the destiny of this place? If we do not sweep it up into a new vision? Do you know how long this battle has gone on?"
Centuries ago, in my time, this had been the richest colony of the French crown. Rich in tobacco, indigo, coffee. Fortunes had been made here in one season. And now the people picked at the earth; barefoot they walked through the dirt streets of their towns; machine guns barked in the city of Port-au-Prince; the dead in colored cotton shirts lay in heaps on the cobblestones. Children gathered water in cans from the gutters. Slaves had risen; slaves had won; slaves had lost everything.
But it is their destiny; their world; they who are human.
She laughed softly. "And what are we? Are we useless? How do we justify what we are! How do we stand back and watch what we are unwilling to alter?"
"And suppose it is wrong," I said, "and the world is worse for it, and it is all horror finally-unrealizable, unexecutable, what then? And all those men in their graves, the whole earth a graveyard, a funeral pyre. And nothing is better. And it's wrong, wrong. "
"Who's to tell you it is wrong?"
I didn't answer.
"Marius?" How scornfully she laughed. "Don't you realize there are no fathers now? Angry or no?"
"There are brothers. And there are sisters," I said. "And in each other we find our fathers and mothers, isn't that so?"
Again she laughed, but it was gentle.
"Brothers and sisters," she said. "Would you like to see your real brothers and sisters?"
I lifted my head from her shoulder. I kissed her cheek. "Yes. I want to see them. " My heart was racing again. "Please," I said, even as I kissed her throat, and her cheekbones and her closed eyes. "Please. "
"Drink again," she whispered. I felt her bosom swell against me. I pressed my teeth against her throat and the little miracle happened again, the sudden breaking of the crust, and the nectar poured into my mouth.
A great hot wave consumed me. No gravity; no specific time or place. Akasha.
Then I saw the redwood trees; the house with the lights burning in it, and in the high mountaintop room, the table and all of them around it, their faces reflected in the walls of dark glass, and the fire dancing. Marius, Gabrielle, Louis, Armand. They're together and they're safe! Am I dreaming this? They're listening to a red-haired woman. And I know this woman! I've seen this woman.
