The Magus - John Fowles [143]
the cloak was open. I could see the white dress, the white throat. What I suspected of Conchis, what she had accused me of, I gave myself to taste: the charms of a _m�ge a trois_; that wild kissing. Who cared about real meaning? I pressed her hands. "At least tell me your name." "Rose." I pressed her hands again. "Come on. Friends." "Call me anything you like. You baptise me." "No." She smiled; a pressure back, the hands withdrawn. "I must go. I hate all this mystery. But just tonight." "I'm coming with you." "You can't." She had that same slightly desperate urgency Lily had had two weeks before. She moved away a step or two, as if to test me. I stood still. "I'll follow you." "Tomorrow morning." "Now." She eyed me, then shrugged, with regret. "Then I'm awfully sorry, but I'll have to use the emergency exit." With her eyes still on mine, she called. Not very loud; to carry thirty or forty yards; as if to a dog. "Anubis!" I whipped round. She came and put her arm on mine. "Actually this looks better. He won't hurt you if you stay here." Already I could hear someone coming swiftly down through the trees behind us. I saw a monstrous dark shape. "Rose" stood near me as if to protect me. "Who is it?" "Our dearly beloved watchdog." Her tone was dry; and when I looked at her, she confirmed its dryness. It was the figure from the death and the niaiden scene of two weeks before. The jackal-head, the "nurse." Standing against us, in black from head to foot, the long ears pointing stiffly up, the muzzle waiting. She muttered quickly, "Don't be afraid." Then, in a very low whisper, "We had no choice tonight." I didn't know whether she meant "you and I," or "Lily and I." She started to walk down past the statue. I looked back up the hill. The figure had not moved. I began to walk after her. Immediately she heard me she stopped. When I came up with her, she gave me a wide-eyed look and then she said again, "Anubis." The figure came and stood some six feet away. I could see that behind the macabre disguise was a big, tall man. He moved like a very fit man, too. I would be no match for him physically. I shrugged. "_Force majeure_." "Just stay here. Please just stay here." She turned to the figure. Her voice was cold. "And there is absolutely no need for violence. We all know you're very strong." She turned back to me, touched my arm one last time as if to reassure me; then she disappeared down through the trees towards the carob under which the man and the girl had stood. I spoke. "I suppose you're the Reverend Mr. Foulkes." He raised his arm and took off the headpiece. I was looking at a Negro. He had on black trousers, a black shirt, black gym shoes; even black gloves. He did not smile, but simply watched me. Poised yet coiled; an athlete, a boxer. I calculated whether I could risk a dash into the trees. But it was already too late. She had disappeared; and I felt sure that her real destination was in some very different direction. "Where you from? The West Indies?" No answer. "Well what are you supposed to be--the black eunuch or something?" No answer again; but I thought there was a tiny contraction of the eyes. "I'm going back to sit on the seat. All right?" He did not even nod. I said again "All right?" and then moved crabwise back up the hill, cautiously, watching him. He stayed where he was, and we remained like that for perhaps a minute. I lit a cigarette to try to counter the released adrenalin, and listened in vain for the sound of an engine down by the sea. Then, abruptly, the black figure came up towards me. He stood in front of me, blocking out the sky. The cigarette was snatched out of my mouth and flicked away. Then in the same movement I was jerked to my feet. I said, "Now wait a minute." But he was strong and as quick as a leopard. Sweating a little. I could smell his sweat. An absolutely humourless face, and an angry one. It was no good, I was frightened--there was something insanely violent about his eyes, and it flashed through my mind that he was a black surrogate of Henrik Nygaard. Without warning he spat full in