Aurorarama - Jean-Christophe Valtat [104]
Seven men once I could even save
That had lain seven years in their grave.
I can even cure a man of the toothache Saint George:
How’s That?
The Doctor:
Cut off his head and throw it in a ditch.
Now, in my breeches, I’ve crutches for lame lice,
And a little bottle of hectrum spectrum Ice
Some bear’s feathers, some wool from a frog
Some eighteen inches of last December’s fog.
Three drops to their temples and one to their heart,
That’s it, brothers, rise up and play your part.
He feigned to pour the potion from an invisible phial. One by one, the fallen men started to move, and, thus resurrected, painfully got up from the ice, their limbs stiff, but not suffering, it seemed, from the cold. Then, stringing themselves together, their arms around each other’s waist and their awfully mutilated faces lit from below by the row of lanterns, they chanted hoarsely:
Once I was dead and now I’m alive,
Blessed be the doctor that made me revive.
We’ll all join hands and fight no more,
And be brothers, like before.
Brentford, who did not know anymore whether he was trembling from cold, fear, or tension, thought it was over, but he was wrong. Another man he had not seen arrived in front of the improvised stage, his body entirely hidden under some hooded brown garment.
I am the Unseen Comrade
The last you’ll see before you’re dead Gliding all wrapt and hooded,
One more than can be counted.
Then the Patrol bowed and saluted in the little circle of trembling lights. There was no applause save the crackles and growls of the ice all around. Brentford was still afraid, but most of all he felt invaded by a weary sadness that was beyond reason or words.
“Doctor Phoenix,” however, had started speaking again.
“Excuse us, sir, if our little spectacle did not amuse you. It seems we have developed a humour of our own that some may find unpleasant, and we are well aware that our overall appearance does not speak in our favour. We do not, alas, delude ourselves with the vain hope that we can obtain your sympathy. In that respect as in many others, as one of us once said, the only illusions we have left are our optical illusions.”
This provoked a subdued ripple of approval through the company, the way an old joke does.
“But maybe we can aim at a little pity. For once, sir, we were like you,” the voice said with an accent of sincerity that moved Brentford in spite of himself.
The man indicated a direction behind himself, which Brentford thought might be north.
“Once, as you seem to be doing, we regarded a certain spot as the noblest place a man could tread upon, and we prided ourselves in being such men, or the faithful companions of such a man. We thought that there was no sacrifice we would not consent to in order to fulfil that ambition. And now, please, look at us, unpleasant as it is. Look at the way our pride has been punished.”
The Patrol now faced Brentford, looking solemn and attentive. The doctor took a step forward.
“For, sooner or later, there comes that special moment, that very special moment, if you can imagine it, when that very man who deemed himself a hero suddenly decides that he will go out, dig up the grave of his friend, and with a rusty knife help himself to a slab of that half-rigid, half-rotten flesh and chew it raw, sir, as he is reflected in his dead mate’s glassy, unbelieving eyes. At that moment, this man’s will to reach his Farthest North has been fulfilled beyond his wildest dreams and fears. This is how God humbles some of us, sir. Those he loves, he reserves as flesh for others, as he did with his own Son.”
A long silence ensued.
“There is nothing God hates as much as the pride of Man. This we have learned the hard way. It is a strong malediction, but also our noble mission to roam this land eternally so that we can protect it against Man, and protect Man against it.”
Brentford released his grip on his gun, but it was then that the Patrol slowly began moving toward him.
CHAPTER XXV
Eskimos to the Rescue!
“Should you meet any white men, treat them