The Fate of Three Cullen Boys
The City of Saints no more, I now knew what Ferris had meant when he spoke to me of Babylon. It seemed to me that the fair shine of London had melted away while we were gone like snow on a summer’s day, and now the place had revealed itself for what it truly was. Men and women alike shoved past me with manners no better than the pigs and dogs that wandered the narrow alleyways. And the stench, oh God, how I almost heaved right then. I did my best to avoid the filth splattered on the streets — had that always been there? — and the streams in the centre that carried them, but between the people and the animals set loose and the carts that splashed through, I found this to be a hopeless task. How could I have ever loved this place?
You set your heart too much on things, a gentle voice echoed my old words. I abruptly clapped my hands over my ears and slowed down to stare at the stones beneath my feet, much to the dismay of those walking besides me. Could it be? It seems that there is nothing in the world that I can do to be left alone, nobody that does not haunt me. No longer a mere aching memory like that of my wife and brothers, the spirit of my old lover knew himself to be too important for me to cast aside; now, here he was with me having settled into a new home in the depraved nest between my ears, joining his place besides the Father of Lies. There were no two beings I could not loathe more. They who shaped me…and broke me; they created the monster I was today.
I had come to savor this city before leaving to Southampton, but now I knew this to have been folly, and picked up my pace. I looked up before me, and nearly fell over my own two feet, so startled was I to be presented with the sight of someone I had never thought Fate would permit me to see again.
My Izzy, a dark figure in the shadow of a towering four storey, stood with his hunched back leaning against its wall, all alone from what I could see. His palms were open to the passersby, as if in supplication, appealing to all his dire state and neediness. Tears were blurring my sight. Was this what my crimes have resorted him to? Gentle Izzy, good Izzy — a common beggar in the streets of Babylon? I prepared myself to rush forward, to tear apart the unwashed masses and take him into my arms, steal him far away from this city. But I had a broken mind controlled by forces much greater than me. The Voice would make itself heard.
Calm yourself, Jacob. That man is not your brother, you should know that.
You! You think you can recognise my own brother better than I? I resisted beating my skull against the nearest wall.
Come on, Jacob; you know better than anyone. Look again and tell me true. Is that man Isaiah?
I squinted harder, incredulous at this new messenger, who was with me for not even a day but saw fit to tell me my own eyes could not be trusted. For a moment I stood there as useless as a fool, forced into watching my elder brother suffer so publicly, my rage growing every second that went by. Ferris had lied. I resumed my run, humiliated by my doubts.
Only a few feet away did I begin to have second thoughts. It was as if a mask was falling off my eyes, and upon a closer look, revealing to me the truth in the Voice’s words. The beggar looked over to me with hazel eyes, not grey. His hair, while dark, resembled the dark brown of a muddy field more than the coal black of my black brother. He was a slight man, closer in stature to Zebedee than Isaiah.
My feet slowed down, unsure of where my heart stood. The man finally turned, having caught my stare. That was when I knew for certain that I had been mistaken. The wretched creature delivered me an ugly, lopsided smile, unworthy of a Cullen. Then after he shook his hands at me and said, ‘Brother in Christ, h’ve a spare?’
I was not so befuddled as to misunderstand his meaning and so from my linen pockets dug out a coin and pressed it against his fingers, fixing my eyes on him the entire time in case Izzy would return to me. In return, a spittle trickled from his mouth as he garbled at me, ‘Th’ks, a true Christian are you.’
With that, the beggar was gone and I was left to my own devices. My shoulders slumped, in disappointment and in, much to my shame, quiet relief. In sparing myself of a possibly explosive encounter with my wronged brother, I denied myself the soul-cleansing benefits of restitution. At this warm tears flooded my eyes, and I went to weep like a babe all before the open streets. Izzy, my protector for so many years, and with the thought that once I leave to Massachusetts I shall never see him again. To toil at day and sleep at night, never knowing whether he lived much longer after my misdeeds. I clutched my breast, for the thought wounded my heart grievously.
Had I been in a better state of mind, I would not have done what I did next. Guilt hugged me as tightly as a fog however, and kept me from noticing where my two feet were taking me. It was as if a devilish spell had been cast onto me, imprisoning me in this labyrinth of a city, refusing to release me until it brought me before the last tavern I had gone to, a hole near the docks, where torches had been lit before the door.
I went inside the premises, and sat at the table closest to the door. The money I had taken from Ferris’s chest weighed me down heavy, or was that just the weight of the pain I carry? My brothers, my wife, my lover, Becs, Aunt, and even Susannah. I had built so many tall and proud bridges, only to have them knocked down before I turn. It was God that paved our paths, and yet it appeared that mine was full of rubble. Every man and woman that entered my life not long after betrayed me, in words if not spirit and action. All except Izzy. In that case it was I who betrayed him. My stomach turned at my foulness.
I called for ale in hopes of tempering my sorrows and giving me courage. A tavern-keeper with a cheerful disposition came to serve me. ‘We’re run low, friend — mind beer in your stead?’
‘Aye, why not?’ I could not be bothered to care. ‘A drink’s a drink.’
‘That’s the spirit! Good man.’ He poured into a tankard as he squinted his eyes at me. ‘And a tall one, no doubt. Hope you didn’t hit your head on the door before entering. My name is Christopher; I have the honor of running this fine establishment. And you must be…?’
At hearing his name my body froze. I dodged my eyes from his. ‘No one.’
‘Your name is no one? Har! Now that’s an odd name if I’ve ever heard one. Chance that you share relation with some one? Har!’
I threw my head back and swallowed my drink in slow increments, refusing to look at him. The tavern-keeper stood there idly before finally having understood my message and shuffled to the next table over, to irritate them with his idle talk. Me, I had no need to engage with a man like him. Two Christophers had entered my life for the worst, sullying a godly name with their sinister intentions. I had no interest in opening the doors for a third. Men entering the tavern would go past my person, sparing me no more than a quick glance. That was all for the better. I had come for one thing, or rather, one person. I stared for as long as I could at the door, hoping against hope that I could somehow will him back to the tavern. The crowd was as thick as flies that night, and all manner of men were coming and going. My brother was continuing to evade me, but I could not leave. Hour after hour passed, time limping by with no more strength than a common beggar, and my eyes began to flutter; I was to find myself dozing off. Oh, Izzy. One day we shall reunite, brothers once more…
I do not recall what I dreamed, only that it brought me great relief that lonely night. My eyes shot open following a sharp poke up my nose. I jerked upright, nearly throwing myself off my stool. Staring back at me, elbow on table, was my younger, more comely brother, complete with the gold ring dangling from his ear and holding a knife. He looked me once over, amusement twinkling in his eyes. ‘Don’t you look exhausted. I never knew you for a toper, Jacob. I hope you had a fun night.’
I groggily rose to stretch my back. ‘Me? I’m no toper, Zeb. I’ve just been waiting for you. Waiting to speak to you again.’
‘Is that so?’ He took my half empty cup and placed it between his delicate lips. ‘I’d have thought you too busy in the country with your whore, two sons of Sodom off plowing a New Jerusalem. Why, does that not sound like it could be a comedy?’ He drained the cup dry after several large gulps.
My throat went dry at mention of New Jerusalem. Dear God, let my sins stay behind me. I cleared my throat and said with as steady of a voice I could muster, ‘The Lord wills how He may. I’m afraid a royalist knight threw a wrench into our plans. Our colony was sacked and everything was burned to the ground. Ferris and the rest of the colonists were captured or killed.’
Zeb cocked his brow. ‘All except you.’
I did not know what to say to him. We stared at each other in silence after his statement. When the words finally came to me, it was as if I was hearing them from someone else afar. ‘I could only save myself.’
Zebedee gave me a certain look, though I could not tell if he believed my story. He threw his arms back behind his hand lazily and said to me, ‘You said you wanted to speak to me? Well then, pay up. You owe for last time. You promised me coin, but I received nothing and I had to pay for the both of us. I’ll have my due now before anything is done.’
‘Of course,’ I said obediently as I brought out what I thought were a generous number of copper and silver pieces from my pocket. I slid them from my side of the table to his. I added, ‘Should be enough to buy yourself a new sheepskin cape, too.’
Zeb swiftly plucked the coins and bit down on the silvers, finding them satisfactory, before tucking them away beneath the folds of his clothes. He flashed me a mocking smile. ‘Is this all? Well, I do suppose you’ve seen better days. Perhaps you’ll come across another to settle with and offer me much finer provisions next time. You’ve always been so very kind to family after all. Now spit it out: what do you want with me? And don’t tell me it’s forgiveness. I’ll see you dead before I ever forgive you for the horrors you’ve done to me and those closest to me.’
‘That is your right. I expect no forgiveness for all the suffering throughout the years I have made you endure.’
‘Nor will you ever see it, with a soul as ugly as your own,’ Zeb snapped at me.
My ears were rushing, but I continued to push myself. ‘I came to bid you farewell, Zebedee. From here on I will return to Beaurepair, to see our mother and, if I can, learn the whereabouts of Isaiah. I have wronged them too, and I must needs to try and make amends and beg them for absolution.’
Zeb cackled at my declaration. “If mother and Izz have even a crumb of wisdom, they’ll call Cornish on you and see you hanged for the wretched beast you are.”
‘If that is my fate, then so be it.’ I repressed the urge to slam his face against the nearest wall until he bled to death. Even one blow of my fist would send this ungrateful pup reeling. As if he could sense my rage, I saw my brother tip closer to the edge of his seat, perhaps thinking it easier to escape if my patience ran short. Deal with him, came the First Voice, piercing through my thoughts. I shivered at his coldness. Here, so soon? Another spoke out to me to say, barely above a whisper, the word kindly. I knew now that I was being tested. All throughout this, my brother was staring back defiantly.
I lowered my head. ‘That is all I wished to say. I should be leaving now. Goodbye, Zeb. I wish you to health and wealth. I pray that nothing befalls you in these ill-reputed streets. Good night to you.’ I tipped my hat and stood up, suppressing a groan as my knees popped.
Zeb gave me a hard stare. ‘Was that a threat? Do you intend to send someone to have my throat cut?’
My mouth gaped at him. Had he gone mad? I tried reasoning with him. ‘You are the one here with the knife, Zeb. We are brothers, Zeb. If I meant you harm, would I have not done so by now?’
‘Famously predictable you?’ He reproached me. ‘You’ve always been volatile, don’t deny it. One day you can be sweeter than a comfit as you are right now, and the next worse than a tempestuous storm that threatens to tear apart everything and everyone. Perhaps others are gullible, but I’m not.’
I realized I was clenching my fist, and promptly unclenched it. I pointed my finger to him to accuse him, ‘You are me writ small, Zeb. If you were given my frame, you’d be even worse.’
When he did not respond, it was then I decided that my presence here was no longer needed and turned to the door. I had not known what to anticipate, but our meeting had left me weary of Zebedee. I had done what I could, though I was not sure it amounted to much. Perhaps our future together would have to await for the Hereafter, where the feeble grudges of this life could be washed out. For now, he was a stepping stone merely for the greater reunion that awaited me, for a brother who was much more worthy of my pardon.
By the time I had nearly closed the door behind me, I heard a shout amidst all the conversations that sent shock waves through me. They sounded uncannily like the words, ‘I’ll join you to Beaurepair’. I turned my head back, stunned, so sure I had imagined them. But the eyes Zeb locked onto me begged to differ. I contemplated returning to reaffirm with him directly, but he had quickly entered conversation with that irksome tavernkeep. I turned to leave the tavern. My chest was lighter of the fears I had entered with but weighted with new ones.
