"You let me alone," faltered Maia, wiping her eyes. "I'm enjoying myself. You just get on with the story, now. You ain't sat there to ask questions, you're sat there to tell the tale."
"She used to go down the village and ask passin' travelers for news of the wars," resumed Occula. "But no one ever seemed to know anythin' about Baltis, and come to think of it, 'twasn' likely they would, him bein' just an ordinary soldier-boy among hundreds and thousands marchin' and batterin' up and down the land.
"Now after a time it got to be winter and then it was spring and still pretty Lespa was sufferin' in her heart and dodgin' all her father's schemes and goin' her own way alone as far as the lads were concerned. And there were one or two--there always are, aren' there?--that she'd, sent packin', even though she did it nicely (for Lespa was never hard-spoken to anyone, though I dare say she might have been more or less forced to be a bit firm now and then--you know what some fellows can be like)--there were one or two who began sayin' there must be somethin' queer about her; pretty or not, she couldn' be a natural girl, or else she thought herself too good for anybody; and all such things as that. So she wasn' very happy, not even when the warm weather came, to hear the kynat callin' and see the brooks full of yellow spear-buds under the banks.
"Now one mornin'--one perfect spring mornin', that's how the story has it--with all the trees in new leaf, wild cherry and zoan and scented poplar an' I doan' know what-all--Lespa was told by her mother to go up to the wood and bring back a good, big faggot of sticks and maybe a log as well if she could manage it. So off she went, with the grass cool at her feet and all the daisies in bloom. But still she had thoughts for nothin' but Baltis gone to the wars. Yes, she was a girl forlorn and sad in springtime. So she wasn' in much of a hurry to get on with the business of gatherin' the sticks. She was in a mood for everythin' to seem a waste of time. She sat down by the brook for a bit and pulled some watercress; and then she just lay on the bank while the birds sang and the frogs sat on the lily leaves in the sunshine. But after a while she supposed she'd better get on with it, so she got up and climbed over the fence and went her way into the wood.
"But she still felt lazy; and worse than that, she felt inclined to mope and not at all in the mood for puttin' up a faggot and goin' home bent double under it. It was partly the spring weather and partly her own thoughts--'nough to put anyone in two minds, kind of style. It was quiet in the wood and the morain' got hotter and hotter and still she hadn't really done any work--just a stick or two.
"After a bit she came on a pool among the trees. It was one of those nice, clear, brown pools you sometimes find: water tricklin' in one end and out the other, and no mud or dead leaves to speak of--just a clean, gravel bottom a few feet deep. She dabbled her toes in it and it didn' seem too cold at all. In fact it seemed very invitin', and in a couple of minutes Lespa had stripped off and plunged in. Well, you know how it is: you seem to leave all your cares behind when you jump into the water. She was soon feelin' in better heart, splashin' about and as happy as a thrush in the rain.
"Now as I told you, didn' I, it was the sort of spring mornin'--never a better one since the world began--that brings the gods down to earth. For to begin with, you know, the gods created the earth as a pleasure-garden for themselves; and so it still is--in places, anyway: and the gods may still come around here and there, for all I know. But be that as it may, on this particular mornin', all those long years ago, the god Shakkarn--him as was a god before even Cran and Airtha; the god of rough, country places and honest, simple folk--he'd come down to earth to enjoy the spring and the scented leaves and the bees buzzin' about in the flowers.
"Now as you know--or even if you doan', for the matter of that--when the gods take bodily shape they assume whatever form best suits their immortal truth. That's to say, whatever truth they're manifestin' at that particular time. A god or a goddess is like bread, you know: you can dip bread into wine, or gravy, or custard, or honey, or any damn' thing you like, and that's what it'll taste of, and of course it'll improve the bread as well. And I've even heard tell that with the gods, it's not a matter of choice--no, not even for them. I've heard tell that there's a power that causes a god or goddess to assume the most fittin' form; accordin', I suppose, to such things as the time of year, the place they're visitin', the people they're manifested to and the gifts or blessin's they come to bring. A goddess might appear as a dragonfly or a moonbeam, and a god as a serpent or a leopard or an old pilgrim. It all depends. But when it happens, there's always some who feel the presence of the god and sometimes even recognize him, while others--the thick ones--see nothin' at all;.and they just sneer at the clear-sighted ones and say they're conceited or mad, and give them a hard time; and now and then they even persecute or kill them. That's the sort of world this is.
"Anyway, divine Shakkarn was wanderin' through the summer woodland in the incarnate form of a great, white goat: such a goat as has never been seen, I dare say, from that day to this. His coat was like white silk, his eyes shone brighter than jacinths, his hooves were like bronze and his two horns like the frame of a gold lyre. Goats break loose and stray sometimes, as you know, and very likely any dull-witted clodhopper catchin' sight of Shakkarn in the distance would just think it was someone else's strayin' goat and why the hell should he be bothered? and go on with his work. But anyone with the truth in them would feel and know the form of Shakkarn that day for the form of truth.
"Now as Shakkarn was wanderin' down among the trees in the woodland, he heard a sound of splashin' and a girl's voice singin' a little snatch of song; and a very pretty voice it was. So he thought he might as well have a look, and he came rather cautiously closer in the direction of the pool, not to startle whoever might be there. He went into the stream higher up and from there he looked down through the leafy branches. When he saw Lespa in the pool, that was a sight that made him stare and tremble, even though he was a god. He came very quietly out of the bed of the stream and then, just as though he might be strayin' aimlessly and nibblin' at the leaves and grass as he went along, he came down the bank and approached Lespa more or less at random.
"Lespa, standin' in the pool, gazed in wonder as this marvelous beast drew gradually nearer. For Lespa, you know--well, the last thing she was, was unfeelin' or slow in the uptake, and all she could think of was that she'd never seen such a beautiful creature in all her life. Almost timidly--or so it seemed to her--he apporached to drink. She wasn' frightened, for the way he was goin' on, it wasn' a question of being afraid of him, but rather of being careful not to frighten him away.
Slowly, step by step, she waded across the pool, stretched out a wet hand and touched him. He made no move and she began to stroke his back and scratch his ears. Then, just as she was, she drew herself out of the water and sat beside him in the sunshine, and as he still stood docile she put her arms round him and began rubbin' her cheek against his neck.
"Now the true title and style of the goddess, as you know, is 'Lespa of the Inmost Heart,' or sometimes 'Lespa of Acceptance.' Of all the gods and goddesses, she's the one who's entrusted with the divine task of revealin'--or at any rate of offerin'--to us the truth lyin' within ourselves; and each person's truth is different and unique. She reveals the truth, rather as a noble and generous lady might toss a piece of gold on the ground for a beggar to pick up. Yet amazin'ly, there are many who never bother to notice the gold where it falls, or even more amazin'ly, take it for rubbish and disregard it. They may even refuse it, and swear blind that they'll have nothin' to do with it and it's no part of them. Yes, they stop their ears against the goddess, because she tries to tell them somethin' about themselves that they doan' want to hear, you see. But be all that as it may, she's not called 'Lespa of the Inmost Heart' for nothin', and we can take it as certain sure that the reason why that pretty village girl became the goddess of the Inmost Heart was because she herself, even as a mortal, was able to put into practice what she now requires of us --the humility and honesty to recognize the
truth.
"As she sat there upon the bank of the pool, with her arms round the divine animal beside her, Lespa could sense the cravin' and burnin' of his desire. And this was nothin' less than the raw, unrefined need and longin' which ram-pages through the world and will no more be choked off than the lightnin' or the rain. This was animal nature; and as she recognized it, she knew also that she shared it. This, whether she liked it or not, was a part of herself made manifest.
"It was a hell of a shock. Ah, yes! Even to Lespa--and as yet she was just a mortal girl, doan' forget, and unac-quainted with the mighty gods--it was such a shock as filled her with dread and even with horror and a flood of hot shame. She--she, a human girl, was an animal, and shared, at any rate in part, the nature of other animals. She was a female animal, subject to appetite, and to heat and instinct.
"All this came rushin' upon her with the vividness and force of a dream. 'Cos as you know, you can' control a dream and they can sometimes be frightenin'. She jumped up from where she was sittin' and ran a little way--as if that would enable her to leave behind what she'd just discovered!--her mouth open and her cheeks burnin'. Yet the god made no move to pursue her, though now she could plainly see for herself how strongly he was inclined to that. He was able to bear with her fear and frailty as she herself was not.
"Now some people will tell you that Lespa knew then and there that this was Shakkarn and that she was loved by a god. But I've known others who will haveit that her humility and self-acceptance were much greater than that-- that she simply accepted in all simplicity that she wanted to be basted by a goat. But myself, I doan' believe she thought anythin'--not consciously--at all. She simply surrendered herself to the inmost heart, like a bird that knows when it's time to fly south. And yet that's not altogether right either, for the birds can't resist--they just have to fly south--and Lespa--oh, yes, she could have resisted and run away from herself and from the god. There's thousands do--and by Kantza-Merada! can' you tell them when you have to do with them, too? This is the whole secret of the beginnin' of Lespa's divinity--that at the first she was afraid, shocked--probably even disgusted to be confronted with her own animal nature--but she knew--she had the courage to know--what to accept, just the same as she'd known what to reject after Baltis had been taken away.
"Falterin'ly, she came back to Shakkarn on the brink of the pool; and then she herself welcomed him, and she herself began what they were to do between them. There's one thing you can be quite sure of, banzi, as I've told you again and again; that whatever virtues you attribute to the gods, decency and shame are not among them. Shakkarn's more sublime and no more respectable than a thunderstorm or a flood.
"Now I've heard this story misused and profaned more times than I can tell you. In the Lily Pool at Thettit they had a whole room decorated with pictures of Lespa and the goat, and fellows used to pay extra to go and do it there. You simply can' get the truth across to some people: it's like blowin' a trumpet in the ear of a stone-deaf man. These stories are no good unless you find them and feel them for yourself. The whole point is that two completely different and contradictory things can be true at one and the same time. Sweet, bonny Lespa, who wouldn' have hurt a fly, as they say, was doin' somethin' everyone else would call filthy and abominable, which she herself knew to be the world's truth and a divine gift which she simply wasn't prepared to go on livin' without, whatever it might cost her.
"And that," cried Occula, jumping up, refilling her gob-let and slamming down the wine-jug so that the knives jumped on the table, "that's what makes the ruddy world go round--for those who doan' prefer to keep it standin' still. It takes courage!
"Now the way some people tell it, after that day Shakkarn and Lespa became lovers and used to meet in the wood, until someone or other in the village noticed and began to wonder where it was she used to go and what she was up to. But others say that everythin' happened that very same morning. It dun't really matter, and I'll go on with what does.
"There was an old woman out gatherin' sticks, same as sweet Lespa, and as she came up through the wood she heard somethin' that people doan' mistake for anythin' else, do they? the cryin' and babblin' of a girl in pleasure. Now any honest person with any sort of heart at all, if they find they've happened to stumble on somethin' like that, they go off the other way, doan' they? and take care not to make any noise into the bargain--"
"We never tell: you won't?" murmured Maia.
"What say, banzi?"
"Nothing. I was only just on remembering something, that's all."
"Uh-huh. Well, this pokin', nasty-minded old woman wasn't one to tell shit from puddin', let alone a goat from a god. Oho! she thinks: some dirty wench is enjoyin' herself havin' it off in the wood and I'm not. I'll just look into this, I will, for the sake of village decency, and see what's goin' on! She might just as well have said, 'Watch what's goin' on', but she didn'. And so she came creepin' up among the trees and she saw for herself the claspin' and the mastery.
"Oh, wasn't there just a screamin' and a scrunchin' when she came runnin' back into the village? I dare say you could have heard her at Kabin from Zeray, if only she'd been there. Pity she wasn'. She didn' think of goin' and havin' a word with Lespa's mother on the quiet, as any right-minded person would 'a done. 'Oh! Oh!' she screams at the top of her voice, so they all come runnin' out to see if she was on fire.
'Oh! Oh! Do you know what I've seen? Do you know what I've just seen?' (Makin' the most of it, see?) 'That filthy, dirty hussy Lespa-r-her as wouldn' look at any boy up and down the village this twelvemonth gone and now we know why, doan' we? That horrible, unnatural trollop--'
" 'What?' they all cried. 'Oh, what, oh, what?'
" 'Up in the wood! Bastin'--with a goat! A goat, quite big, a big goat! Wait till I tell you all the details!'
" 'We'll burn her!' shouted someone. "That's witchcraft, that is! Couplin' with a familiar! Sorcery! Necromancy! In our village!'
" 'And what's more, she was enjoyin' it!' shouted the old woman.
" 'That's the worst of all!' they cried.
"So then they all came out as against a thief, with swords and staves, and they were all sayin' what they were going to do to her and inventin' things as they went along. And they reached the wood and came burstin' in among the trees.
"Lespa and Shakkarn were lyin' easy beside the pool. Or maybe they weren' lyin' easy--how would I know? They must have heard the villagers comin', of course, from a little way off, but Shakkarn was a god, wasn' he? and he wasn' goin' to stop doin' anythin' he had a mind to just because of a bunch of ten-meld mortals--or any other mortals, come to that. And beautiful Lespa, she loved and trusted Shakkarn, and anyway she knew now who he was and although she must have felt troubled and--well--annoyed, I s'pose, and prob'ly frightened at bein' interrupted at such a time, she wasn' goin' to back down or run away. She was the beloved of a god, and anyway Lespa always had the heart of a queen.
"Well, up they all came, and of course they didn' even think of taflcin' to Shakkarn, 'cos he was just a dirty, nasty goat, wasn' he? They began screamin' and shoutin' at Lespa, ali shakin' their fists, and her standin' there without a stitch on, but no one thought to throw her a cloak or turn aside while she put on her clothes. And then someone threw a stone at her and hit her on the shoulder so that she cried out, and she was bleedin'.
"Then Shakkam got up and stood in front of her and fixed his great, golden eyes on the rabble as they pressed forward. There was one man--a tailor, he was--who had a bean-pole with a sharp point in his hand, and he made a poke with it at Lespa's arm. And with that the whole lot screamed with shock and fear, for in that very moment each one of them felt that point jabbin' into their own arms, just as if it had been them. They didn' need any more after that. They turned and ran, helter-skelter, and in half a minute there wasn' a soul in the wood but Lespa and the lyre-horned god.
"And then Lespa found that in some way she'd become lighter than the summer mornin' air. She was floatin' with Shakkarn u
p through the trees and then higher than that. She wasn' cold and she wasn' bleedin' and 'naked' was a word that had no meanin' as far as she was concerned, any more than it might have for a dragonfly or a swallow. And Shakkarn--he'd reassumed his true, divine form, though what that may be how can I or any other mortal tell? You and I would have been struck blind to look at him, but not his consort, upon whom he'd conferred his divinity. From morn to noon they rose, from noon to dewy eve, a summer's day, and with the settin' sun came to the zenith and the palace prepared for Lespa among the stars. And there she took up the work of the goddess that she'd become; 'cause if you think the gods doan' work, let me tell you they work a damn' sight harder than anyone else, except that it's not drudgery, but more like the work of some great musician or sculptor, so I've always understood.
"Lespa, doan' you see, she'd attained what all women seek, and that's completion; that completion whose every heart lies in its imperfection. And this is what she offers night by night to anyone with the courage and the patience to attempt it as she did. She sends dreams out of the darkness and the stars, and she asks you riddles and sets you puzzles and she stirs up the whole boilin' pot of Shakkarn to send fumes into your sleepin' head. Lespa of the Inmost Heart: shall I tell you what she's like? Back home-- oh, back home--"
"Who's crying now?" asked Maia.
"Shut up!" cried the black girl passionately. "Back home, in Silver Tedzhek, where I was born, there was a great, tessellated courtyard in front of the temple of Kantza-Merada, all green and gold. The tiles were glazed and hard as rock. One day, when I was still just a banzi, I was playin' there, waitin' for Zai--my father--an' I saw the green shoot of a plant stickin' up through the pavement. It was a nettle, no stronger than a bit of cloth. It had split the tile. I left it alone. If the goddess wanted Jo split her tiles-- she's always doin' it--that was her business."