CHAPTER FIVE

‘You must arrive to Mersea’s shore at low tide; it is then that you will be able to move across the channel that bounds Mortan’s fortifications. This map will show you where the best point for crossing is” said Wulfstan to James giving him a brightly coloured chart with a sea monster thrown in for good measure at its south-east corner.

All necessary preparations had now been made. Food, clothing and defensive weapons had been delivered into James’ possession. But in the turmoil and strange turn of events of the last few days he now had some time to himself to ponder about the situation as it presented to him. Why was he marked out to enter Mersea? Was Helen everything she appeared to him? What exactly was he to do once he entered the slave fiefdom? What would happen if he got caught? Perhaps best not to think about this one. All the same James felt something was missing, something had not been told to him, some essential element was left out.

They set out early the following morning. The first part of the way hugged the coast, the cliffs gradually descending to low lying ground, often changing into broad, salty lagoons which had to be carefully negotiated. Still, the weather was fine: a clear blue sky, immense with light, arched over the greenish purple of the vegetation. Holding hands tightly James and Helen strode confidently to the southern lands.

The plan, gone over various times with the assembly, was to ascertain the precise nature of the methods of control Mortan exerted over his unfortunate subjects. Was it just plain force or were subtler methods in effect? James was reminded of the illustration of the trepanned skull in the chronicle he had read. Once the various means of subjugation had been observed the idea was to return to Dunara and with this intelligence work out a way of liberating the inhabitants of Mersea from their unenviable fate.

‘What if we do get caught?’ The thought was never far from James’s mind. Helen, however, was not troubled by the concern.

‘We won’t get caught. But if we do I have been given ways of escaping. Don’t worry. Let’s just stick together. That’s the important part.’

The two planned to reach and stay at a fisherman’s cottage by the estuary of a large river by nightfall. Harold, the fisherman, was a friend of Wulfstan and also in the pay of the assembly in matters of information gathering. In short, he was someone who could be trusted.

The evening of their departure, after having made love with more than usual ardour and affection – each other’s body been turned by their yearning desire into an electric bundle of energy unleashing itself from all nerve endings from head to toe into a cataclysmal-like orgasm of pure, undiluted joy – Helen asked James.

‘Tell me more about this nurse who helped you escape the institution?’

‘Her name was Radha, or so she liked to think. More probably, as I remember it was a short name, she disliked it, she said: it was a name normally given to dogs. Anyway, she was thrilled when she saw I had this book in my hand called ‘The love songs of Krishna and Radha”. She smiled radiantly, came towards me put her arm round my neck and said ‘you Krishna, me Radha’. I shall never forget that moment. It still rings in my mind with supernal light to this hour: a beacon to the possible, an ideal state of being, perhaps all too often an unattainable relationship. But her smile was so lovely: something both humorous and sad about it. I shall never forget that moment.’

‘You’re obviously still very struck on her judging by your gushing account’ said Helen.

‘She was a formative Lady. There are many ladies one yearns from in life. In many respects it is the female who is the depository of wisdom. The male may speculate but it is the female which preserves. Radha, or whatever her name was, preserved me.’

‘From who?’ queried Helen. 

‘Some more cynical might say from myself. But in fact it was from that queen of the night, my mother.’

‘Your mother?’

‘Yes, that’s right. When I was bundled into the institution I was almost immediately taken to a long, airless, windowless room with a white-coated doctor at the far end.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

I can still feel on my jaw that awful moment when I wanted to say ‘mother’ but could not fully utter the syllables from my mouth. The drugs she had injected me with had virtually paralyzed my speech muscles.

‘‘Ma.. ma.. ma.. maa…’…’ I attempted but could not get the full word out. It was like one of those bewitchments one reads about in fairy tales. You know, the evil step-mother preventing the truth being told or changing it, so that one tries to say one thing and entirely the opposite comes out of one’s mouth.’

‘We used to burn witches here once,’ commented Helen. ‘But now we just banish them from our town on pain of death.’

Where I came from’, said James, ‘some types of witches are actual, revered in positions of great power over people who pay much money to follow their advice. ‘Those witches pronouncements costs them a lot, so they must be worthwhile. At least that is my conclusion.’

‘Did the doctor understand eventually what you were trying to say?’ asked Helen.

‘I think he must have, although I do feel he must have been part of the same coven. Confessing to the enemy, you see. So I began to shut up after that, in case they could use my comments against me.’

‘And Radha helped you to escape?’

Yes. That’s right. You see when three of these mind-doctors are gathered together they can sign a piece of paper to keep us inside their institutions for as long as they like. Sectioning, they call it- section number 21.’

‘But you must have done something to have landed yourself in there’ questioned Helen. Her brow furrowed:

‘Yes, of course I did. I failed to follow myself but heeded what false selves said I should do.’

‘What?’   ­

‘In other words I found myself at the wrong time in the wrong place with the wrong concept of myself.’

‘How was that? You seem to be pretty sure of yourself in your own uniqueness? You certainly appear to be more detached from the fripperies of this world than a lot of people I know.’

‘I think it’s because I must have renounced the reality of the world in some way. I must have found it too painful, that’s all. The unendurable business of life itself. At least that’s how I felt.’

‘That can be dangerous and it’s certainly unhealthy.’

‘It turned out to be both,’ confirmed James. ‘There was, of course, another woman.’

‘Why of course’

‘I was like a vessel on a storm-tossed ocean with no shore to see in the all-enveloping, drenching mist. I mistook a mirage for the protecting veil for the virgin mother herself.’

‘I see,’ said Helen.

And James could tell for once here was a woman, a lady that could see into his account, his previous existence.