The Island Where Time Stands Still Read online

  It was the first time that the lady A-lu-te had addressed Gregory directly, and he bowed. ‘Madam, I am not surprised at what you tell me, for I was not serious in my suggestion that any group of human beings could have entirely eliminated all baser instincts. But I should be interested to hear what lay behind that man’s attack upon you?’

  Her eyes widened. ‘There can be but one. His labour must have brought him to the vicinity of the house. Probably for days he has watched me in secret. In any case, having looked upon me, his lust must have got the better of his reason. I owe it to you that I was not raped and left strangled among the bamboo breaks.’

  ‘Then your peril was more desperate and immediate than I imagined. What punishment will be inflicted on him?’

  ‘People who commit minor breaches of the law here are warned, and if that proves insufficient fines are imposed on them. For murder and lèse-majesté the penalty is death. But experience has shown that it is futile to attempt either to reform habitual criminals or to cure criminal lunatics; so we do not go to the trouble and expense of providing for their confinement. This man falls into the last category. Such as he are injected daily for three months with a drug which destroys memory. Those who have had it are no longer plagued by their phobia; they do not remember their crimes and feel no urge to repeat them.’

  ‘What happens to them then?’ Gregory inquired.

  ‘They are put to work in the fields, or on other simple tasks.’

  ‘That is certainly an economical way to protect society.’

  ‘It is also merciful. They retain the enjoyment of their normal senses, but live only from hour to hour. They do not even realise that any punishment has been inflicted on them. You see, the loss of memory entails the loss of individuality; so they feel no craving for their former position or possessions, or to be reunited with those whom they may have loved.’

  Gregory sighed. ‘I lost those dearest to me in the wreck from which I am the sole survivor. I wish that I had died with them: so what you tell me makes me inclined to envy that poor brute who attacked you. I have a prejudice against committing suicide, but to escape the years of loneliness ahead of me I would be quite willing to undergo this course of injections.’

  A-lu-te’s face showed shocked surprise; but her father, who had managed to follow the gist of the conversation, said quietly, ‘It is fortunate that your mind should be so disposed. The Council will decree it for you tomorrow. For them, I see no alternative.’

  ‘But this is horrible!’ the girl exclaimed. ‘Honoured father, can you not—’

  He cut her short with a gesture. ‘The gratitude of individuals must not prejudice safety of the State. Our secrets are uncovered. If known to the world we are ruined.’

  ‘Of course, that is true,’ Gregory admitted slowly. ‘And I have no right to expect you to trust me. I see now that having left the cage means that you dare not now allow me ever to leave the island.’

  ‘That we must keep you here is obvious.’ A-lu-te’s voice was high and excited. ‘But to destroy your mind, that is quite another thing. The thought appals me. It is by the mind that all educated people live. You are clearly a person of considerable mental attainments. However great your grief it will pass. That you should be willing to submit to this shows that you are temporarily unbalanced. Somehow it must be prevented.’

  Her father shook his head. ‘My child; this thing does not lie with you or me. He must remain. That is agreed. It is also agreed that time will heal his grief. What then if he succeeds to become stowaway? Only by taking his memory of all things past have we guarantee that he remains. The first duty of the Council is protection for our secrets. They will decree it. Of this I am certain.’

  Angrily, A-lu-te broke into a torrent of Chinese. For a full minute her words poured out in a tone of violent argument. Then, in a single sharp sentence her father cut her short. A brief silence ensued; after it, she turned to Gregory and said in English:

  ‘My Honoured father graciously permits me far more liberty of speech than is usually allowed to women here. But now he has forbidden me to speak further on this matter. He and I both owe you a great debt. His sense of duty as a member of the Council makes it impossible for him to attempt to repay it, and most unhappily I am powerless to do so.’

  ‘I am sure you have done everything you can,’ Gregory smiled. ‘But please don’t worry. My life no longer holds any interest for me, and the thought of having my memory blacked out does not distress me in the least.’

  Meanwhile Sze Hsüan was tinkling a small bronze bell. One of the men servants whom Gregory had already decided was the Number-one Boy appeared. The Mandarin gave him some orders, then rose from his chair. Gregory exchanged bows with him, with the lady A-lu-te, and with the duenna, who had remained a silent spectator of the scene: then the servant led him from the reception hall to a bedroom, provided him with things for the remainder of the night, and left him.

  Although it was now close on two in the morning his brain was far too active for him to go to sleep at once, and he lay for a long time thinking over his extraordinary situation. No guard had been placed over him, but the reason for that was obvious. It was pointless to leave the house when there was no way of escaping from the island. To stow away, as Sze Hsüan had suggested he might attempt to do later if left in full possession of his faculties, was impossible as the steamer that served the port was not due back for two months or more. During so long a time he could not possibly evade capture. The problem of concealing his identity while obtaining food from a population whose language he could not speak would have been utterly insoluable. Expert escaper as he was, he doubted if he could remain uncaught for a week if he had to make nightly raids on people’s larders, and, since the island must be quite a small one, the odds were that search parties sent out to find him would round him up long before that.

  But he considered the possibilities of escape only from habit. He felt no urge whatever to attempt it. The lady A-lu-te had been right when she had said that his mind was temporarily unbalanced. Otherwise he would have faced death rather than tamely accept the idea of being deprived of his personality. As it was he regarded the prospect rather favourably. For the past weeks he had known a misery of which he had never believed himself capable. The thought that he would never see Erika again had encircled his heart with an icy chill which was comparable only to Dante’s ‘Seventh Circle of Hell’. To the continuance of such suffering it seemed to him infinitely preferable that his mind should be made a vacuum. On that thought he dropped asleep.

  Soon after dawn he was woken and served with an excellent ‘first rice’; then the Number-one Boy indicated that he should get up, and, when he had dressed again in his dinner-jacket suit, led him out to the front entrance of the house. Sze Hsüan was waiting there and gravely wished him good morning, then mounted into a richly-appointed palanquin with eight bearers. Gregory, meanwhile, was escorted to a rickshaw drawn by a single coolie. A-lu-te was nowhere to be seen but the slight movement of a bead curtain that veiled one of the windows made him wonder if she was watching from behind it. The palanquin bearers set off at a trot and the rickshaw followed.

  As they proceeded at a swift pace along a road on the far side of the lake, Gregory marvelled at the beauty of the valley even more than he had the previous night. Then, in the moonlight, everything had appeared grey, silvery or black: now, under a sun still low in the sky, an infinite variety of soft colours blended to enhance the scene. Although it was evident that the Council met early to avoid the great heat of the midday hours, there were very few people about. Speculating on the reason, Gregory decided that it was probably because all markets and utilitarian activities were deliberately excluded from the valley in which the aristocracy lived. The only buildings they passed were large private houses, none of the land was being farmed and there were no meadows with livestock grazing in them. Apparently the valley had once been dense tropical jungle, but since brought by immense labour under control and conver
ted with consummate artistry into an unbroken succession of glades, orchards and gardens.

  After about a mile they entered the avenue of palms and turned inland along it. Ahead now lay the most massive buildings, including the tall pagoda. From the position of the sun Gregory saw that they were heading north; and, now he was aware of the reason for the similarity of the lay-out to that of the Imperial City, he felt sure that the palace in which the Emperor gave audience must be a triple-roofed building straight ahead. In old China it was traditional for a superior always to be seated with his back to the north when he received an inferior. One of the many pseudonyms by which people referred to the Emperor had been Nan Mien, meaning ‘The Face which is turned towards the South’. Pekin itself is backed by a semi-circle of mountains to the north, while through the plain to the south passes the great trunk road, leading through gate after gate in the city, courtyard after courtyard of the palace, to end only at the steps of the Imperial Throne.

  Gregory’s guess, that here on a miniature scale the old symbolism would have been copied, proved correct. After passing through three handsome gates with roofs like inverted sickle moons they entered a spacious courtyard crowded with people. Before the main door in its far side the palaquin was set down and Sze Hsüan got out. He was received with deference by a number of men wearing the same uniforms as those who had done guard duty in the cage, spoke briefly to their officer, then passed into the palace. The officer came over to Gregory, bowed, and said in English:

  ‘You will please follow me.’

  Beyond the huge outer door, across a lofty entrance hall, there was another, made of scrolled bronze-work having great flowers inlaid with mother of pearl; but the officer took Gregory into a small side room and told him to wait there.

  It was almost bare of furniture, but its walls were panelled with hand-embroidered silk depicting scenes from Chinese life, and for about twenty minutes Gregory amused himself admiring the superb needlework. The officer then came for him, led him through a further door and back into a second hall where a number of officials were evidently waiting to transact their business. They glanced curiously at him as he was conducted past them towards what appeared to be a blank wall; but the officer touched a hidden spring in it, a panel slid back, and he stepped through the opening into a far more magnificent hall than either of the others.

  A glance showed him that by a side entrance he had been brought to the Throne Room. At its far end there was a dais on which stood a golden throne formed from an intricate lotus design, the stems of the flowers being studded with pearls and the flowers themselves made of bright blue lapis lazuli.

  The throne was unoccupied, but on a stool a little to its right sat Sze Hsüan. Below the dais on either side were ranged three other stools, on each of which sat a Mandarin. They varied in age from a young man in his early twenties to a venerable grey-beard with a creased, monkey-like face, who might well have been over eighty. Gregory at once decided that the six Mandarins, together with old Sze Hsüan, each represented one of the Seven Families who had originally colonised the island, and that, from his place on the dais the latter filled the function of Prime Minister. Squatting on the floor at low tables, with ink, brushes and paper scrolls were a number of clerks taking records of the proceedings.

  The officer led Gregory forward to within about twenty paces of the throne, then stood quietly waiting while the members of the Council regarded him with impassive faces.

  Sze Hsüan addressed his fellow members in Chinese speaking at some length. When he had done, no attempt was made to translate what he had said for Gregory’s benefit. Instead complete silence was observed while seven young women came in single file round from behind the throne, each carrying an opium pipe on a velvet cushion which they presented to their respective masters. Gregory knew then that he was not to be asked anything about himself, or whether he had anything to say. The Council had already heard all they wanted to know about his case, and the production of the opium pipes was a ritual symbol that it only remainded for them to consider the matter before passing judgment. As he expected, the pipes were lit, but after each Mandarin had taken a puff or two, laid aside.

  Starting with the eldest, three of them spoke briefly, and it seemed obvious that they were in accord. Then, just as the fourth had begun to give his opinion, Gregory heard a sudden commotion behind him.

  Turning, he saw that a side door had been flung open and that the lady A-lu-te had entered by it. Running as swiftly as if she were pursued and in fear of her life, she crossed the great chambers. Within a few feet of the throne she extended her arms and flung herself flat on the floor before it. No one moved or spoke. Now motionless and silent she continued to lie there as if the violence with which she had thrown herself down had knocked her out.

  Over a minute elapsed before her father slowly rose to his feet. Stepping down from the dais he took up a position beside her and briefly addressed his fellow Mandarins. It seemed evident that he had temporarily relinquished his status as a member of the Council, and was asking permission for her to speak. One by one they nodded in assent. He said something to her; then, at last, she raised her head from the floor, sat back on her heels and spoke for several minutes.

  When she had done, Sze Hsüan turned to Gregory and said, ‘The gratitude of my daughter is deep. She makes a proposal to the Council. I also feel gratitude. I support it. To accept or reject is for them. But first you must consent. She will tell you of it.’

  Before looking round at Gregory, A-lu-te made three obeisances to the Council, then she said quickly. ‘I have offered to go surety for you. It would mean your becoming my bondsman. If I am to be responsible for you they will require that you should take an oath of service to me, as a safeguard against your living idly and perhaps becoming a focus for unrest amongst the people. You will also have to swear not to make any attempt to leave the island. Should you do so, or become a cause of trouble here, I shall be called on to pay the forfeit. They will order for me the course of injections which you would otherwise start tonight. Are you willing to allow me to save you in this way, if they agree to it?’

  Slowly, Gregory shook his head. ‘Madam, it is most generous of you; but I have already made up my mind to accept the fate decreed for me. Since tragedy robbed me of all I held dear, my future is completely barren. To think at all has become a torture, and this treatment offers the equivalent of sleep. Perhaps I might even find new happiness of a simple kind working in the fields. In any case I would rather accept mental obliteration than continue to suffer the mental torment with which I have been afflicted since being washed up here.’

  ‘You are not competent to judge for yourself!’ she exclaimed angrily. ‘No state of mind lasts indefinitely. Faced with this in a few months or a year, you would agree to anything rather than consent to the destruction of your personality.’

  For a moment he wondered if she was not right, and that he had allowed despair temporarily to cloud his reason. Yet he felt so terribly tired. All he craved was peace; so he shook his head again.

  ‘It is not that I would object to serving you, or that I want to leave the island. It is just that my life is now such a burden to me that I’ve no heart left to go on.’

  ‘Please!’ she pleaded. ‘Please let me save you from yourself. If later on you still feel the same, no doubt it could be arranged to cancel the arrangement, and for you to have the treatment.’

  He shrugged. ‘In the meantime, I should suffer greatly; so I stand to gain nothing by postponing it.’

  There was a moment’s silence, then Sze Hsüan addressed Gregory. ‘My daughter has shown generosity. For you she offers to imperil her mind. To us it is a worthless thing; but for her it is her greatest treasure. To refuse her is to act with grave discourtesy.’

  It was a typically Chinese point of view, and one which had not occurred to Gregory. Suddenly he realised that if he stuck to his decision A-lu-te must suffer a most shaming loss of ‘face’ among her own people. Publicly
to insult someone who was evidently taking a desperate step in the belief that it would save him from his own folly was entirely contrary to his nature. And, after all, she had said that if in a few months’ time he felt the same the arrangement could be cancelled. He saw now that, in the circumstances, it was up to him to save her from the ignominy to which she had exposed herself by her act. With a wry smile he bowed to her, and said:

  ‘Madam, I am ashamed that my sorrow should have made me forget my manners. I gratefully accept your generous offer.’

  A-lu-te gave a sigh of relief and her father, reverting to Chinese, asked the consent of the Council to the arrangement. The young concubines with the opium pipes appeared again. Each of the six Mandarins took a ceremonial puff then laid the pipes aside. In turn they gave their opinion. Only the very old monkey-faced man appeared to be against acceptance, but his opposition was overcome by the others. A-lu-te expressed her thanks and rose to her feet.

  Sze Hsüan then told Gregory to kneel in front of her. Concealing his indifference, he did so. Laying his hands on hers, as ordered, he repeated a simple oath dictated to him, by which he bound himself to serve her in all things according to her commands, and not to attempt to leave the island. When the brief ceremony was over they both bowed to the Council, Sze Hsüan resumed his seat on the dais, and the officer led them out of the great hall by a side door.

  In the sunny courtyard several palanquins and scores of bearers were waiting. A-lu-te led the way to one with pale green silk curtains, got into it, and told Gregory to walk beside her. At her order the bearers lifted it and set off at a walking pace. She had left the curtains of the palanquin undrawn, and as they passed through the gate he said:

  ‘I’m afraid you must think very badly of me for having shown reluctance to agree to your proposal; but you may be right and I am not yet quite normal. Anyway, I can assure you that I am sane enough to feel deep appreciation of the kind heart that impelled you to make it.’