The Eyes Of A King Part 5

"I don't think you should go out in the cold," said Stirling. "There's always a bucket."

"I am not ill enough for that," I told him firmly. "Anyway, it's not cold. Look, the sun is shining." It had not stopped since I had woken up in the colonel's office and seen it slanting down through the high windows.

"All right," Stirling said doubtfully. "I'll help you, then."

He held on to my arm while I stood up, though I was not dizzy. I put on my army uniform-the nearest clothes to hand. I did up half the b.u.t.tons on my shirt and pulled my jacket loosely round my shoulders. "Sit back down," Stirling told me, and he insisted on putting on my boots for me.

"Don't bother with the laces," I said. He still had trouble with laces. He took hold of my arm again and we started for the door. As I pa.s.sed the mirror, I saw that there was mud in my hair and on the side of my uniform, and my face was still yellowish. "I don't look fit to be seen," I said, trying to flatten my hair.

"You're vain, Leo," Stirling told me, laughing. "No one's going to see you."

Everything was still strangely distant, and my muscles were shivering now from running too hard earlier. When we neared the bottom of the stairs, I began to feel sick again and darkness seared into my eyes. I could hear Stirling's voice, but over it was a painful thudding in the sides of my head. "Sit down," Stirling was telling me. "You're going to fall over." He pushed me firmly down onto the step. "Put your head down." I rested my head on my knees and shut my eyes. "I told you this was a bad idea," I could hear him saying.

After a moment my vision cleared and the blood flow in my temples lost its urgency. I stood up and we struggled down the last few steps. Stirling would not let go of me, even while he opened the door, and I was grateful for it. He held the door. But I started to feel dizzy again, and I couldn't see. Nausea bubbled up in my throat. I bent over sharply, retching, and my stomach stabbed.

Stirling did not let me fall. "You got up too quickly," I could hear him saying. "You should have brought your head up gradually."

And then another voice said, "Is he all right?"

"My brother's sick," said Stirling. And then, "Don't worry, it is not catching. Unless exhaustion is catching." And someone laughed.

I leaned on the door frame, gasping in air, and looked to see who it was. Someone was coming down the stairs, and as my eyes cleared, I saw that it was a girl about my age carrying some sort of heavy bundle in her arms.

The girl's hair fell carelessly over her shoulders, but as if she had arranged it that way, pushed it back so that it would fall forward over her ears. As she came closer, the light from the doorway shadowed her long eyelashes into spider-leg patterns on her cheeks. The jewels in her ears were expensive, but they did not make her look plain in comparison like they would have another girl.

There was something about her mouth that made me want to look at it. It was perfect. Her lips were parted slightly, self-consciously, as if she knew it made her look prettier but the action did not come naturally. I noticed I was staring at them, and looked away quickly. She was smiling. I tried to smile back.

"Do you live here?" the girl asked. I opened my mouth. h.e.l.l, she was pretty! She was like an ornament that should be kept locked up, for fear of ruining it. I shut my mouth again.

"Yes, we do," Stirling was saying.

"So do I," said the girl. "Since today. We just moved into the top apartment."

"I'm pleased to meet you," said Stirling. "I'm Stirling, and this is my brother, Leo. He's ill. He was training and he pa.s.sed out, but he's all right now." I tried again to smile, without success.

"I'm Maria," she said. "This is Anselm." I realized that she was pointing to the bundle, and that it was a baby.

"Anselm?" asked Stirling.

"Yes, it's after a saint. A legendary English saint." She was standing next to us now. Stirling leaned over to look.

"He's sweet," said Stirling. "He looks like you. Is he your brother?"

"No, he's mine."

"Your what?" I tried to jog Stirling's arm.

"Mine," she said again, and she did not seem to mind. "My own baby."

"Oh," said Stirling. Then he asked, "Are you married?" I clutched my hand to my head before I could stop myself. The girl looked at me. "Do you have a headache? How thoughtless-I'm keeping you standing here in the cold when you are sick. I am sorry."

"Do not trouble yourself," I tried to say, without much success.

"Can you tell me where the bathroom is?" the girl asked.

"Out here," said Stirling, pointing out the door. "Across the yard."

"Thank you."

We followed her through the door, Stirling still supporting me. She stood still and looked round the yard, frowning at the grimy walls and the tall houses that blocked the sunlight. "I'm afraid it's not very nice," said Stirling, as if it was his own living room.

"Some plants would improve it no end, I daresay."

Then she realized we must be heading for the bathroom too. "You should go first," she told me.

"No ...," I said feebly, and wished we weren't having this conversation.

"Yes," she said. "The quicker you get back to bed, the better." I did not have the energy to insist. Stirling helped me across the yard to the bathroom door, and I went in alone. I could hear them still talking outside, and listened hard, in case they thought I could not hear.

"Your brother would not let you go into the bathroom with him." She was bold, for sure. "What if he was to faint again?"

"Even if he was dying, I don't think he would want to be helped more than he had to be."

"He is proud, then?" I could not hear Stirling's answer. "But pride is not necessarily bad. It is a virtue in some ways."

"That was what I meant," Stirling said. There was a short pause. The baby gurgled. Then Stirling's voice again: "Are you married?"

"No. Are you?" He laughed. The baby started to cry shrilly, and the girl said, "Shh."

"So is it just you and Anselm here?" Stirling asked when the baby quieted.

"My mother also."

"Where's your father?"

"Fighting at the Alcyrian border. Where your brother will be before long, I suppose. I see by his clothes that he is a soldier." I glanced down at what I was wearing, and remembered that my bootlaces were undone, and half my bare chest was showing, and there was mud in my hair. A fine soldier indeed I looked.

"He's in military school," said Stirling. "Then he'll have two and a half more years of training in the army."

"I thought by his looks that he was older."

"No, fifteen."

"Me also."

"I'm eight," said Stirling. "I'm in military school too. But neither of us like it. Especially my teacher-his name's Markey. Sergeant Markey, that is. He's really mean. I don't want to be a soldier when I grow up, and Leo doesn't either. He could be a-"

I opened the door hastily, and the girl said, with the faintest smile, "I see by your brother's face that he thinks you have said enough."

She pushed the door open with her free hand and looked in with disdain. "The bathroom's not very nice either," Stirling said apologetically.

"Never mind. At least there is a mirror, and a shower and a sink."

"Cold water, though."

"Ah, well." She shifted the baby higher up her arm.

"Would you like me to hold him for you?" asked Stirling.

"Your brother will be wanting to get back to bed."

"No, no," I told her. "I'll just sit here." I sat down and leaned against the wall.

"Thank you very much," said the girl, and she handed the baby to Stirling. "Keep your hand behind his head." She waited a moment to check that Stirling would not drop him.

When she shut the door, the baby began to cry. "Shh," Stirling said, the way Maria had, and jiggled him up and down, but he went on crying. The crying grew so insistent and so mournful that Stirling called, "Is he all right?"

"I think he's just hungry," Maria called back.

"I've got a sweet in my pocket."

"Don't give him that. He's still on milk."

"Oh. All right." Stirling went on jiggling the baby and put out his finger for him to hold. Anselm caught onto it and stopped crying long enough to draw breath, but then resumed his wailing louder than ever.

I was beginning to feel dizzy again. And my vision was going strange. My head and the back of my neck p.r.i.c.kled sickeningly hot and cold. I looked at the ground, concentrating on the cracks in the paving stones to keep my sight straight. "You all right, Leo?" Stirling asked. I nodded.

I heard the bathroom door open, and the baby's crying subsided to a discontented grizzling. "You don't look well," Maria said. She was talking to me. I tried to lift my head. "Your face is very white," she said. "Oh dear. I am sorry to have kept you down here so long."

Stirling held out his hand and helped me up. I swayed and caught onto the wall. I held tightly to Stirling's shoulder as we struggled to the door. Maria held it open for us.

I could not see clearly where I was putting my feet, especially entering the dark hall suddenly after the yard. But I put one hand on the rail, and Stirling supported the other arm, and I managed to get up the stairs slowly. Maria followed us all the way, saying, "Sorry I can't help." And she really sounded sorry.

When we finally got to our apartment, Stirling had to get out his keys. I attempted to support myself while he did it, but the wall seemed to be sliding away. "Here, hold on to me," said Maria. She shifted the baby up to her elbow and held her other arm out. I tried to take it gently, but she slid it right around my waist and pulled me in to her suddenly. "I won't let you fall," she said. She was strong. I could not look at her face so close, but she was looking at me. I was painfully aware of her fingers, tight on my ribs, and her side, pressed right against mine, so that I could feel every breath she took.

Eventually Stirling got the door open and I moved over to him, still leaning heavily on his shoulder. "Goodbye, Maria," said Stirling. "Goodbye, baby Anselm."

"Goodbye," she said. "Wave goodbye, Anselm." She lifted the baby's hand into a wave, and he gurgled at us, dribble stringing from his mouth. And then, suddenly formal, she said, "It was nice to meet you."

"You too," said Stirling, and I managed a curt nod.

"I hope you get well quickly, Leo," she said, and went breezing up the stairs, but carefully, so as not to drop the baby.

I slept for the rest of the day. It was evening when I woke. I could hear hushed voices from the living room and something hissing over the stove. Stirling was standing in the light from the window, leaning on the back of the sofa and talking to Grandmother. I sat up, and he heard me and turned and came to the door. "You are awake, finally," he said, and sat down on the end of my bed. "Do you feel better now?" slept for the rest of the day. It was evening when I woke. I could hear hushed voices from the living room and something hissing over the stove. Stirling was standing in the light from the window, leaning on the back of the sofa and talking to Grandmother. I sat up, and he heard me and turned and came to the door. "You are awake, finally," he said, and sat down on the end of my bed. "Do you feel better now?"

I nodded. "I don't know why I pa.s.sed out. Sorry to scare you, Stirling. I feel fine now." It was almost true. And when I got up, I was no longer dizzy. I dressed quickly, then followed him back into the living room.

Grandmother smiled at me from the kitchen. "I'm making you some soup," she said.

"You must be hungry," said Stirling as we sat down at the table. "It's broccoli soup, with potatoes in it and meat fat-"

"All right!" I said. "Please don't tell me about it." I was still feeling sick after that morning. "I'm sure I will feel hungry once I see it," I said.

Stirling had the newspaper in front of him, and he bent his head now and began trying to decipher the headline. After a while, he gave up and closed it. "I saw Maria again," he said, looking up. "I helped her carry some of her boxes up to the apartment."

"Oh yes?" I turned to him.

"She's like a princess," Stirling said. I nodded. "She's friendly, though," he went on. "Very pretty. Nice baby." It sounded as if he should be counting these out on his fingers as he said them. But he wasn't. "She was holding on to you close, wasn't she? This morning, when I was trying to open the door."

"Yes," I said cautiously, and then added, "Quite close."

"You should have seen yourself. You went bright red."

I was alarmed. "Did I?"

"I don't think she noticed. She didn't say anything about it this afternoon. She most probably thought it was just a fever." I laughed. "Did you think she was pretty?" he asked.

"Well, I suppose ..."

"Who?" said Grandmother, setting the bowls down on the table.

"The girl we met today," said Stirling. "Maria. She has moved into the top apartment. She was very kind. She helped Leo when he was feeling ill, so I could open the door."

Grandmother sat down and began ladling out the soup. "Someone nice in the building-that will be a change after the last few."

"Can we invite her round here one day?" said Stirling. " We should invite her whole family round, to welcome them."

"Certainly," said Grandmother, quite unlike her usual self. "Who else is there? Her parents?"

"Her mother," said Stirling. "And her baby. His name is Anselm. He is very sweet, though he cries a good deal."

"Her baby?" said Grandmother. "How old is this girl?"

"Fifteen, same as Leo."

"And where is her husband?"

"She doesn't have one."

Grandmother raised her eyebrows. "I'm surprised she told you that so freely."

"But I did ask her."

"Stirling! You asked her if she was married?" Grandmother turned to him, frowning. "That was very rude! Do you know how rude that is, to ask someone if they are married? Especially if it turns out they are not."