Macabre/Number 5/Judgement
Judgement
by
Kit Reed
The place looked like heaven only to those who knew no better. There was terror in the deep blue shadows that laced back and forth across the crystal dome of the field. There was malevolence in every movement of the tall grasses, golden only at the tips, and the beings that lurked in the darkness at their roots looked with hatred and fear at the figure that sat, inert, on a small globe at the center of the field.
Clutched in the figure's hands was a small, golden-covered book that hung from a chain about his neck. The gold was much brighter than anything else in the field, and it picked up lights and threw them, glinting, against the grasses.
In one part of the brush Alexander Caine threw back his head and bayed like a mad dog.
At first there was silence, and then a hundred voices were raised in an answer. The grasses rustled and some of them shattered, falling dryly into the deep shadows of their roots splintering on the backs and rough shoulders of the beings that screamed and screamed in hopes that Caine would raise his cry again.
To Thomas Cartman who sat, proudly, humbly, at the center of the field, these voices were beautiful. He could not know that rough-shouldered creatures teemed and seethed at the roots of the golden grasses that bounded this field, crying and shuddering with disgust at the (to Cartman, melodic) sound of their own voices, tearing at their heavy ears to erase the harsh, fierce rumbles of Alexander Caine, in their agony hoping that he would cry once more. He could not know that Caine ranged, hot-eyed and hungry, just over the edge of that (seemingly) golden hill.
To one who knew no better, the place looked like heaven. And Thomas Cartman sincerely believed it was heaven, for he had died (he was sure he had died) at the hands of a soldier, in defense of his beliefs, a martyr (he was sure he was a martyr). Anyone who had died in defense of the golden book (and he was sure he, the high priest of the sun-god's religion, had died thus) was a martyr. He sincerely believed that this great domed field (with a larger dome, an intense sea-green dome, stretched above it like so much sky) could be no place on earth (he was sure it could be no place on earth) for in no place on earth did a ground of dark-laced crystal exist; in no place on earth were there golden grasses that stretched and mounted in splintery tips to the green-bluishness of a concave sky. It must be heaven, or nearly heaven (Cartman thought), and he had only to wait for someone to come to lead him, to judge him.
Guessing this, Alexander Caine got from his hands and knees to stand erect. He swept back his wild hair with rough fingers and straightened the tunic stained with much running about on his hands and knees. Slavering, he broke through the golden grasses, kicking aside the rough-shouldered brutes that clawed their way toward him through the painful grass splinters that lay in dark shadows. He threw back his lean shoulders and dropped his heavy lashes so that they screened the ferocity of his eyes. He stepped on to the bright crystal of the field, avoiding the cold shadows that fell across it, and he approached the man who still sat, blissful, in the field's center. This was the last of them -- the last of the sun-god's priests. His vengeance was nearly done.
"I have come to judge you," he said.
"I did not think the one who came to judge me would have such a rough face," Cartman said, but despite his words he spoke in a glad voice and threw his arms out to welcome the gaunt man. "You see," his voice was warm, "I died a martyr not ten minutes ago -- tell me, it was ten minutes, wasn't it?"
"It was ten minutes," Caine said, throwing a fierce glance over his shoulder to the grasses where the rough beings crowded too close to the grasses' edge. They saw his bright eyes and moved back. When he waved a wild hand at them they let their harsh cries slide to a low whine that seemed to come from a single throat.
"I was fighting for the Sun Book, for what I believe, and that makes me a martyr, doesn't it?" Cartman ran his hands over the book with the golden cover, fondling the clasp as if he would never let it go. He let his eyes sweep over the incredible green sky. "It does, doesn't it?" His voice mounted with pride. Cartman was on his feet now, moving toward Caine, (he thought) his judge.
"If a man dies for his cause he is a martyr, I'm told." Caine's voice was patient. "Let us not talk about how you got here. Let us talk simply about you. That is more important."
"What is there to say?" Cartman took in the whole domed field, the grasses and the greenish sky. "All this" -- he made an expansive gesture -- "is more beautiful than any place I’ve ever seen."
Caine's voice was low and he hardly spoke the words. "Then you must not have traveled much." He moved closer. "It is I who decide whether you are to stay here. Will you obey me?" (In the grasses the brutes' voices rose to a shrill, many-throated screech.)
Cartman looked around proudly. "Once a martyr, I am beyond obeying."
"That is what is said." Caine was looking at the golden book now. It swung against Cartman's breast. He could not take his eyes off it. He lowered his lashes on them so they would not shine so hotly. "However, if you wish to stay, you must give me the book. That is all I ask." His vengeance was never complete without the priest's consent. "You must give it and give it freely."
Protectively, Cartman's hand went to the chain about his neck. But his eyes seemed to see nothing but the field and the glittering grasses and the greenness of the sky, and his ears made magic, turning the cries of the rough-shouldered brutes into compelling music. He spoke, but his mind was on the gold-tipped grasses and the music. Somewhere beyond those grasses, he was sure, were heavenly fountains. "It is written that a sun-priest must never part with his book," he said. "Next to his own brain it is the thing all men hold most sacred."
"You want to stay here?" Caine saw the hesitation. He saw the domed sky reflecting greenly in Cartman's eyes. Cartman would be the last sun priest to come to his field. (The first had been the man who ravished his mother in the name of the pseudo-religion -- and left her to die of shame.) It was important that he stay.
"I deserve to stay here." Cartman's voice was heavy with pride, with expectation of soft arms and sweet words which certainly must await the sun god's martyr. "I was struck down, was I not, in defense of the Sun Book? The soldier came up behind me... "
"... You were running from the temple." (In the grasses, the rough beings keened.)
Cartman stiffened. He fondled the book, letting his fingers tighten on its covers. "... I had to keep the book safe from the marauders."
"... You weren't thinking of the marauders."
"The Sun Book must never pass from the hands of the priest. Next to his own brain... "
"It went with you only because it was chained to you. You forgot it. You forgot the temple and ran... "
"I died a martyr, in defense of the Sun Book. I am proud..." Cartman strained to hear sounds of the heavenly fountains. He longed to break through the gold-tipped grass.
"If the soldier hadn't struck you when he did, you would have torn the book off and thrown it at him, just to stop him... "
"I was a true martyr, a good martyr, and I'm waiting for my reward." Cartman spoke impatiently, longing to be rid of this gaunt-faced questioner. He wanted to plunge his face into the waiting grasses. He longed to throw himself in the soft arms that must await a martyr. He stretched his hands wide and half-bowed, smiling tentatively.
Caine saw the ingratiating look and smiled. It went as he wanted it to. He drew himself up and his voice was stem. "Perhaps you do not deserve to be here."
"I kept the book. I do, I do." Cartman almost pleaded.
"You may not be worthy... " (Behind Caine the rough brutes' voices swelled.)
"I am, I am." Cartman’s voice grew higher. He couldn't make the heavenly fountains sing. "I kept the book. I never parted with the book." He tugged nervously at the golden chain.
"Perhaps you had better go..." Caine advanced on him.
"No-- "
"You have no right to be here." Caine's eyes were wide open now, and they flashed and pierced.
Backed against the globe where he had sat, Cartman tripped and went to his knees. The heavenly music seemed to fade. He reached out to Caine, and his lips formed an unfamiliar word. "P-please -- "
Caine began to smile. "You must go," he said.
Cartman began tugging at the chain around his neck. "Let me stay. I deserve to be here. I- I'll do anything."
"Anything?" Caine's gaimt face stretched into a many-toothed grin. He waited.
"I swear it." Cartman was almost crying now. (In the bushes the brutes keened no more; their cries were sharp and joyful.)
"Perhaps you do deserve to be here." Caine stepped forward, but still did not touch Cartman. His whole face glowed. "Give me the book."
Trembling, Cartman pulled at the chain. He wrenched the book from his neck, looking as he did so at the golden grasses. Now he could be at one with the grasses, the heavenly voices, the green sky.
"Throw it on the ground." The pitch of Caine's voice was intense. "Now soil it with your foot."
Cartman did so and Caine, who judged him, smiled at the act of disgrace. It was all he asked.
The sun priest smiled blissfully, waiting. Now...
Caine reached out now, and his fingers closed like steel hooks on Cartman's shoulders. "And so the last of the sun priests falls into my hands." His eyes were hungry. "I waited for you for a long time." He started to pull Cartman toward the grasses, pushing his brutes back with sweeping waves of his free hand.
"When the soldier stunned you my people brought you here.
"How I hated your religion!
"And now you have thrown away the book. And now you are mine. My mother will be well satisfied. You will be brought lower than she was."
In a small cavern at the edge of the big dome Caine opened Cartman's skull and removed a certain part of the former sun priest's brain. He devoured it, laughing. Then he turned him loose to run with the other rough-shouldered beasts, the former priests, who had the freedom of the green-hued dome under Caine's man-made mountain. ********