Nightspawn by John Banville Read Free Book Online Page A

plurality.’
    The trees took my worthless words, examined them, and set them free into the sky. The figure before me said nothing, and for a moment I had the notion, for some reason terrifying, that I had not spoken at all. I dug my fingers into the soft pine needles beneath me and cried,
    ‘Well say something, can’t you?’
    There was a soft laugh, and then what sounded like,
    ‘I missed her night looking for you.’
    ‘What? What the hell is that supposed to mean? All right, all right, I don’t want to know.’
    I sulked for a while, wrapped in my cocoon of arms and legs, my arse slowly turning to ice. Then, since my partner would contribute nothing to the general merriment, I said,
    ‘Listen, all right, I’ll tell you a story, that will keep our spirits up, or those other spirits down, ho ho. Ahem. I’ll tell you the one about Cain. He went up into the mountains one day, and … no, I can’t. He went up into the mountains, to the old man who lived there. “Old man, “he said, “my life lacks direction.”This is ridiculous. Are you sure you never heard it? Well anyway. “My life lacks direction, I’m enclosed on all sides and I can’t see.” The old man told him to go back into the valley and break down his house, and Cain said,
    ‘“But I built that house with my own hands. It’s all I have.”
    ‘But he went down, and brought out his wife from the house, and with an axe he smashed the walls and windows, and the great roof-tree. Lying that night in the open fields, he looked up at the dark mountain, thinking. In a little while he was back with the old man, who said,
    ‘“Your wife is still with you.”
    ‘So Cain left his wife. It went on like that. Cain gave away all his money, and all his clothes save for one torn shroud.
    ‘“Put away your pipe and drums,” the old man told him.
    ‘Cain broke them all, and there was no more music. That was the hardest loss of all.’
    I paused, and looked up through the branches. A star fell.
    ‘When he had destroyed everything, Cain was happy for a while, wandering like a leper. Happy, yes, yes, but soon he had travelled every road, and there was nothing before him, and the sea seemed all around him. Bent and broken he climbed the mountain. The old man scratched his chin, and looked at the sky.
    ‘“You have a brother,” he mused.
    ‘“I have,” Cain answered. “I have a brother that I dearly love —”
    ‘“Kill your brother.”
    ‘“What? But I love him.”
    ‘“Kill him, kill him tonight while he prays.”
    ‘“But he’s all and everything I have,” said Cain. “He’s all I have to love.”
    ‘“While you love you will never be free,” the old man told him, shaking his head vehemently.
    ‘Cain went down, and in the violent night he stole an axe and opened his brother’s head while he prayed. Then he went back to the old man, his hands still bathed in blood, and he asked,
    ‘“Now what shall I do?”
    ‘The old man said nothing.
    ‘“What shall I do?” Cain screamed, falling to his knees.
    ‘“Now you’re free,” the old man answered softly.
    ‘“And what shall I do with freedom?”
    ‘The old man smiled.
    ‘“I told you how you might be free,” he said, “but I can tell nothing to a free man, and you must find your own ways.”
    ‘“But I’m afraid,” Cain whimpered. “I have nothing, my brother is dead, my life lies about me, broken and dead. Can you not tell me what god would have me do?”
    ‘The old man raised his eyebrows, and laughed, and asked him if he was blind.
    ‘“Do you not see who I am?” he cried, chuckling.
    ‘Cain ran in despair and terror down out of the mountains.’
    The wind was rising steadily; it came up the hill and stirred the fretful trees. The stars glimmered, turning through their enormous courses. A hard light filtered through the branches as the moon swung up over the hill.
    ‘And Cain stole a boat and sailed to an island. There he would sit and do nothing, moving only