Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [265]
Near the top of the slope he began to grow breathless. The turf of the summit was broken by low gnarls of rock. The concrete triangulation pillar stood on one and Alexander was using it as a backrest. He had the air of man sprawling on a comfortable sofa in his own house and seemed not to see Lanark at first, then patted invitingly the rock beside him, and when Lanark sat down he leaned against him and they looked a long time at the view. In spite of their height the sea was only a soft dark line on the horizon. The land up to it was wide low hills given over to pasture, and there were strips of windbreak wood with half-reaped fields of grain in the valleys between. Lanark and Alexander faced a steep side of the hill which sloped straight down to a red-roofed town with crooked streets and a small ancient palace. This had round towers with conical roofs and a walled garden open to the public. Many figures were moving between the bright bushes and flowerbeds, and there was a full car-park outside. Alexander said, “It would be nice to go down there.”
“Yes.”
“But Mum might worry.”
“Yes, we must go back.”
They sat a little longer and when the sun was three-quarters across the sky they arose and descended to the moor by a path which led round a small loch. Two men with thick moustaches, one carrying a rifle, came up the path and nodded to Lanark as they passed. The rifle man said, “Will I shoot the delegate?” and the other laughed and said, “No, no, we mustn’t kill our delegate.”
Shortly after, Alexander said, “Some jokes make me tremble with fear.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It can’t be helped. Are you really a delegate?”
Lanark had been pleased by the recognition but said firmly, “Not now. I’m on holiday just now.”
The loch was embanked as a reservoir on one side and on the grass of the embankment a dead seagull lay with outspread wings. Alexander was fascinated and Lanark picked it up. They looked at the yellow beak with the raspberry spot under the tip, the pure grey back and snowy breast which seemed unmarked. Alexander said, “Should we bury it?”
“That would be difficult without tools. We could build a cairn over it.”
They collected stones from the shingle of the lochside and heaped them over the glossy feathers of the unmarked body. Alexander said, “What happens to it now?”
“It rots and insects eat it. There are a lot of red ants around here; they’ll pick it to a skeleton quite fast. Skeletons are interesting things.”
“Could we come back for it tomorrow?”
“No, it probably needs several weeks to reach the skeleton stage.”
“Then say a prayer.”
“You told me you didn’t believe in God.”
“I don’t, but a prayer must be said. Put your hands like this and shut your eyes.”
They stood on each side of the knee-high cairn and Lanark shut his eyes.
“You begin by saying Dear God.”
“Dear God,” said Lanark, “we are sorry this gull died, especially as it looks young and healthy (apart from being dead). Let there be many young, living gulls to enjoy the speed and freshness this one missed; and give us all enough happiness and courage to die without feeling cheated; moreover …” He hesitated. A voice whispered, “Say amen.”
“Amen.”
Something cold stung his cheeks. He opened his eyes and saw the sky dark with torn, onrushing clouds. He was alone with nothing at his feet but a scatter of stones with old bones and feathers between them. He said “Sandy?” and looked around. There was nothing human on the moor. The light was fading from two or three sunset streaks in the clouds to the west. The heather was crested with sleet; the wind whipped more of it into his face.
“Sandy!” he screamed, starting to run. “Sandy! Sandy! Alexander!”
He plunged across the heather,