The Price of Hannah Blake (21 page)

She was nodding. Was there any way to fit this in? Fit it into anything? She whispered, “I gave in. I put my face in their pussies.”

“No!” It was a slap. “You did nothing to hurt anyone else. There was no victim—just you. You didn’t give in to do to Miranda what Myra did to you.”

“No…” said Hannah, slowly, “No, I didn’t.”

“Instead you endured it all yourself.”

“I didn’t save Miranda. They did her anyway.”

“You have courage, Hannah. I never saw more.”

“But I just wanted not to…to lose myself. Let go. Lose Hannah.”

“That is the highest and most important courage.”

And then, he said. “I want to say so much to you, Hannah. But,” he glanced at the window. “They said just as dusk is coming—and it is. I have to go. Big date with Charles.”

“Oh!” she cried. “We were talking and I…”

“But you thought of it at exercise—and all day.”

“Yes. Don’t go. Do what I did. Refuse to go.”

“Hannah, you refused to hurt an innocent person. This is different. You know that we have go along here—as much as we can. If we don’t fit, there never will be moment they aren’t on top of us. If we fit, they’ll leave us mostly alone.”

“All right,” said Hannah. “Then let’s go.”

“You won’t come.”

“I will! What if you’re hurt?”

He shook his head. “It won’t be too bad. I can do what I have to do. After last night, you don’t need more. Rest. Try not to worry; I’ll be back before you know it.”

She was shaking her head, but he had gone to the door, turned, and said, “Wait about 10 minutes, then go to your room, all right?”

She just watched him. He went out and closed the door. She glanced at the window: still light, sunset; the day had been lovely and so was the evening. She wanted to be walking in the garden with David.

She waited, listened at the door, and went out. In this place, the price of love was fear. Of all the penalties she had paid, this was the least, because the gain was greatest. She was running across the lawn; the sun was retreating, long fingers of blue shadows reaching across the grass. Ahead, there were shouts, cheering, cat calls. She slowed to a trot; she could watch from back in the shadows but see everything on the still-light lawn. She halted beside a large tree, her hand resting against it. She felt rage, but also fear—the penalty.

Charles and David were naked, both of their bodies had black hair that in the twilight made them look primitive. Their arms were bound behind their backs; they could only kick—the cock fight. The target of the fight was obvious. She glanced down at David; he looked so vulnerable!

They were circling, eyes intent on one another. Charles grinned, watching for fear and consternation in David’s face. There was only calm calculation. And both boys and girls, a dozen in a semi-circle, hooted and called out.

Charles suddenly darted in, launching a kick, and David stepped back, lifting his leg to block it. Before Charles’s foot had even regained ground, David took a step forward and kicked in turn; Charles swiftly turned to the side, and the kick hit his thigh. Their feet were bare, the kick that counted was between the legs.

Charles whirl and dashed in, bending low, and David jumped back. It cost him his balance and he fell. Charles was over him, his foot lifted, but David had flipped onto his stomach and was already getting up, his back to Charles. The crowded cheered wildly, but Hannah watched in agony.

Though his arms were behind him, David threw his hips against Charles, and, as Charles stumbled back, David leaped after him and delivered a powerful kick, toes back, to Charles’s ribs. Charles gasped, but the kick did not knock him over.

Charles was bent, now, protecting himself. David seemed about to try another kick, but Charles leaped out of his crouch, into the air, and jammed a flat foot at David. It stuck his midsection and he staggered back. Charles pursued him, kicked at the target. His foot narrowly missed, but David again stepped back. Then he dived toward Charles, shoulder low, with all his weight, and slammed Charles against the legs, knocking him down hard. For one moment, Charles was exposed, legs wide, on his back, but David paused. Something in Hannah silently yelled, “Get him!”

Charles was on his knees, got a foot under himself, and pushed off. He landed on the other foot, body hurtling forward, and David kicked at him. It might have hit Charles in the right place, but not hard enough; it didn’t slow his charge. But now, David had one leg raised, his foot to Charles’s body and Charles used his body to push against it, delaying David from regaining his footing. David began to fall back and put the other foot behind him to catch himself.

Hannah gasped. He was totally exposed. Charles did not miss the opportunity. His kick came up with incredible swiftness, the foot stretched forward, flat, and caught David full. The blow made the sound of a wet slap.

The crowd was yelling and the girls clapping even before the pain caught up with David and he bent forward, as though he would have clutched himself if his hands were not tied. His knees hit the ground, his body bent far forward, his forehead almost on the grass, his midsection protected—too late.

Hannah’s hand flew to her lips; she wanted to dash out, go to him. She leaned against the tree, stopped herself. She saw Charles standing over David, chest heaving; he only glanced down, as though wondering when he would hear the first cry of despair, see David roll over, his legs churning in agony. Then, he turned to the others, grinning.

They laughed. Charles said, “Leave him like that, he needs a good cry. We’ll come back and untie him.” He said, “Someone untie me.”

Then the crowded was moving off, talking excitedly, and the last shadows ran up their backs. Charles carried his clothes in one hand, walking naked. Someone called back, “Have fun!”

They were not out of sight when Hannah shot from the trees and ran across the lawn. She fell to her knees beside David. But what should she do? He wasn’t moving, just bent, forehead on the ground. He was breathing in slowly, deeply. She put a hand on his arm and asked, softly, “David, what can I do?”

“Oh,” he said. It was partly a gasp. He slowly straightened up, let himself roll over, and lay on his back, legs parted. His opponent had left the field.

Hannah started to explain, “I came, I had to. I saw it all.”

David nodded, and said, expelling his breath, “I know.”

“You saw me? How did you?”

He shook his head. He managed a smile. “I knew because you don’t do what you’re told, Hannah.”

She looked at his sex. It seemed normal, maybe darker even than usual. Should she touch them? Rub them? Instead, she lay beside him, resting her cheek on his chest, feeling the rough hair, and began to pass a hand gently over his chest, his stomach. He grunted and nodded, his eyes closed.

“Can you stand it?”

“Just his bare feet. Already better.”

Her hand moved and slid over his balls, not touching them. Then the hand came down, lightly, and David gave a startled jerk, then lay still, again. She put her hand over him and closed it. She lay there, holding him, saying nothing, and the lawn grew dimmer. Finally, he said, “They may be back—or maybe not. You’d better untie me. We shouldn’t be seen together, like this—and I might need to defend myself.”

He rolled on his side, and Hannah pulled at the knots. It wasn’t difficult. She pulled away the rope, tossing it aside, and David said, “You go first, all right?”

“No, you go, so I know that you’re all right. I’ll follow. They won’t see me. David grunted and rolled on his stomach, getting to his knees. He caught his breath. “Ah, God!” he gasped. He was slowly getting up. Hannah had already found his clothes, now she handed them to him. Gingerly, he drew them on, turned, and said, “Come right after me.”

“I’m coming to your room later.”

“No, not after curfew. We’ve had two bad days, Hannah.”

“You won’t let me come?”

He sighed, then turned and started walking away. He asked, without looking around, “That matters? See you later. Be as careful as you can, Hannah.”

“What does it
mean
to be a ‘Jew’”? She lay beside him on the bed. He leaned back against a pillow, legs open, saying, “got to give them some room.” He wore only trousers and Hannah’s hand was down there, holding him, scarcely moving, as though she wanted to protect him. She felt him begin to swell beneath her hand and moved a little more.

He let out a breath and said, “You mean like dirty, greedy, sly as a fox hunting hens?”

“Well, just from the plays at the fair. I always love to see all the plays about kinds of people I never meet.”

“Those things aren’t true of Jews, they are true of some people of every kind, but not most people. But Jews have a different religion, and England, and Europe, have been Christian for hundreds of years. Many Christians can’t stand any disagreement. Even between Protestants and Catholics.”

“We…”

“And they are all Christians, just with different beliefs. Jews don’t believe that Jesus was a god.”

“The son of God.”

“Not that either.”

“What do you believe, then?”

“Well, what do Jews believe? I don’t believe everything that Jews do.”

“Not even what they do?” And she asked, “Why do they cut off part of your prick?” Her hand moved more freely, now. She did not look up at him.

“Well, do you know that even before Jesus was born the Jews lived in Palestine?”

She looked up, waiting. “Palestine is where Jerusalem and Bethlehem are.”

“Oh, yes! I know that.”

“And Jesus was born there, but the Jews had been there for a long, long time before that. Jesus was a Jew.”

“He couldn’t have been! Because Christians think Jews…” She hesitated.

“Jesus was a Jew who made up a new religion and convinced people to believe it was the only one.”

“I don’t know…”

“You know they also called him ‘Christ’? Well, it’s from his name that ‘Christian’ came. Think of the spelling. It is from his name because he invented it.”

“And your prick?”

“Oh, yes. Jews began their religion a long, long time ago, and I think they thought it was healthy to remove that part of the penis.”

“I don’t think so…”

“I don’t think, so, either, but they did then. And now Jews do it because it means to be Jewish. And I had no choice. I was only eight days old.”

“Oh!”

“I don’t remember it at all.”

Her hand moved with more determination. “Good.”

He put his hand on hers. She looked up. “Hannah? I could talk with you like this for a long, long time. I hope someday I will. But not now.”

“And not touch you?”

“Not now, because I’ve decided to tell you something. I wasn’t going to, but seeing your courage, I have to tell you, even though it is very dangerous.”

She looked up into his face. “All right.” She waited, watching him. For a few moments, he gazed down into her face. He said, “So beautiful…”

‘‘I never saw a man like you, David.”

“Now, I must talk, and you have to be ready for this, but you never can be ready, not for this.”

“I’m scared, now.” She gazed into his eyes, as though pleading with him not to hurt her.

“Your father was a sailor, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, but…”

“How do I know?”

She nodded. He said, “And two years ago, he sailed.”

“He said for California. In America, but very far.”

“Yes, but his ship went much farther. It went all the way to China.” He paused. “Cathay.”

“But no one knows.”

“That took a year, and, in Cathay, they told him they must sail to the Crimea. That is near Russia. He didn’t expect any of this. He sent a letter to you. You got nothing.”

She sat up abruptly. She stared at him. “
What
, then? Tell me! Who told you?”

“Come here,” he said. He reached for her, tried to pull her toward him.

“No! Just tell me!”

“Your father is alive. He came back, back to Devon, very soon after you left.”

She shrank back, shaking her head. “No, no he did. Don’t say he’s alive or came back.”

“He did. Does it scare you that he is in Devon and you might be here…forever?”

She covered her face with both hands and began weeping.

He reached out and touched her.

“No!”

After a moment, he said, “This is why I didn’t tell you. One of the reasons I didn’t tell you.”

“Is my mother happy?”

“Yes, I think so, but so sad that you aren’t there, too.”

“Is there more money? I have to get home.” She had lowered her hands. Suddenly, she said, “But how do
you
know?”

‘I am here because he began a search for you. And a lot of things happened very fast. And I came here.”

“You came? To be a prisoner? Forever?”