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The aged swordsman
ENTRY FOR THE SECOND DAY OF THE NINTH MONTH IN THE YEAR THE ALBATROSS CAME TO THE SOUTH-WESTERN HALLS
In the Fourth Eastern Vestibule (which is one of the first of the Drowned Halls, where the Water underfoot is still quite shallow) there is a Statue that has lately caught my eye. The Statues of the House are infinite in their variety, some standing or sitting on their Plinths, heedless of the House around them. Some are connected to the House more bodily, emerging from the Walls as if they are being birthed from the House itself. However, the Statue of the Aged Swordsman is the only Statue I have yet catalogued which seems to exist in reference to both. He stands on a Plinth in a Niche in the Wall, and yet he leans upon with the Wall in a very natural way, like I might do Myself.
Let me explain.
Without his Plinth, the Statue of the Aged Swordsman would stand just a little smaller than Myself. He seems smaller still, though, both because the Marble of his Shirt is carved in such a way as to suggest volume—it is larger than his Body, seemingly cinched to fit him with Ties and a thick Baldric, upon which hangs a Sword—and because of the manner in which he stands. As I have said, he seems to lean off his Plinth with one Arm stretched above his Head to catch himself on the Edge of his Niche. His weight is leaned upon that Arm, and upon the opposite Leg, as I might do if I was feeling weary and wanted to briefly rest. He gazes out under his raised Arm towards a section of Wall and Floor that collapsed into the Lower Drowned Halls long before I came to the House. There are deep lines around his Eyes, and the expression on his Face is very sad and wistful.
I imagine that he used to gaze at another Statue—something that stood in the Center of the Hall before the Floor collapsed. Now he looks at an Absence. Perhaps this is why I think he looks so sad.
Though his Attitude is weary, the Manner in which he Leans from his Plinth towards the Missing Statue makes it seem as though he is holding himself back. When I look at him I am reminded of the Absences throughout the house: those strange Niches, Apses and Plinths which are Empty. I sometimes imagine that he’s toying with the idea of jumping from his Niche, into the Hole in the Floor. Perhaps he represents Longing, or the Desire to Snatch Back That which has Disappeared.
‘Why do you want to leave your Plinth?’ I asked him once. ‘I should be very proud to have a Plinth like yours, if I were a Statue.’
(At the time I’d been sitting on his Plinth with him, just beside the Toe of his Planted Foot. I was attempting to scrape the yellow algae off of his other Leg with a crumpled-up scrap of fishing net, but this was for no particular reason.)
‘Whatever Statue you used to look at, I do not think it’s worth leaving your Place over. After all, the House gives us many lovely things to look at. You could watch the Tides, like me. You could catalogue the fish that swim past, or any birds that fly through here.’
The Aged Swordsman did not say anything, of course, and my attempt to scrape the algae from his Surface left the Marble somewhat stained. This made me feel rather guilty. I try to never harm the Statues, since they are a part of the House.
Some days later, it was warm and bright in the Halls. I thought it would be a good day for fishing. Normally I fish in the Pools beneath the Western Halls, but on that day I turned East. I told myself it was because there are sometimes mollusks in the nooks and crannies of the early Drowned Halls, before they sink too deep. In reality, this was only one of my reasons.
In the Fourth Eastern Vestibule the Aged Swordsman still leaned from his Niche, gazing towards the Hole in the Floor. He still looked lost and sad, and he was still stained yellow where I’d rubbed at him. Usually, the Constancy of the Statues brings me peace. That day, however, I felt irritation like a sudden Flood in my breast.
‘Stop that,’ I told him. My voice was loud in the Vestibule. ‘Why can’t you be happy where you are? Why can’t you be happy in the House? None of the other Statues want to be anywhere but where they are.’
I swept my arm around the Vestibule, encompassing in the gesture such statues as the Queen with One Eye, the Leopard Holding Flowers in his Mouth, and the Man Wearing a Hat in the Shape of a Cockerel. Like all the other Statues in the House, these seem perfectly content on their respective Plinths. None of Them lean from their Niches as if they wanted to tip over and shatter.
The Aged Swordsman did not answer me.
‘Shall I look for your Missing Statue?’ I asked him. ‘Then, at least, I will know what is worth breaking the Order of the House for.’ Though I’d told myself I’d come to the Drowned Halls to fish, I threw my bucket and rod and my armful of nets to the damp ground in a fit of pique. Thankfully the House is too kind to punish me for Anger, for the Tide was low that day, and too weak to steal away my tools.
Slithering on my belly, I leaned over the Edge of the Gash in the Floor to peer into the Hall Beneath. The Room was large—much larger than the Vestibule in which I lay—and mostly flooded with shockingly blue-green Water. The Color of the Water made the Room look much lighter than it was, although the only Sunlight came from the Hole I was sticking my own head down through. Far below me, piled on the Floor of the Hall Beneath, I could just make out a heap of Marble Rubble—the Remains of the Floor on which I lay. I could make out the straight white edges of Floor Tiles similar to those in the other Halls and, amongst them, a wavery splash of gray.
Though I was curious, I did not want to fall. I leaned only a little further into the Hole, gripping tightly to the Edge, and yes—in amongst the uniform shapes of the Broken Tiles, there was a softer, sinuous Shape like Tentacles, or perhaps like Hair floating in a Tide. It did not move with the Water, so I must assume it was part of a Statue. Then, as I squinted, I saw in the Water a flash of Gold. It seemed to move like a fish, though that may have been a trick of my own eyes. More likely it was part of a Statue (some of the Statues have Gold Details, like the Bees that climb all on and around the Woman Carrying a Beehive).
I gasped and almost fell into the Lower Hall trying to see more, but at that moment the Clouds shifted. Whereas once the Water was clear, I could now only see the sparkles and ripples of Sunlight on its surface. The blue-green Water looked Dark in comparison. Whereas normally this sight—the never-ending Beauty of the House!—would fill me with Quiet Joy, I felt a sudden stab of anger. That the House should Hide this from me! That I Wanted, but could not Grasp!
It troubles me, even now, to recall that I ever felt Anger at the House itself.
I could blame the feeling on the Aged Swordsman, but I do not think that’s fair. He is only a Statue. He does not Yearn for Something Missing—he is simply carved leaning forward, gazing out under his Upraised Arm. He looks at Nothing. Perhaps there was never even another Statue in the Center of the Fourth Eastern Vestibule, Detailed or not with Gold.
I still think about the Aged Swordsman, though I admit I have avoided his Vestibule as of late. He troubles me, makes me Doubt what I understand. Perhaps this is what he is supposed to teach me. A lesson in reverse. To Yearn for That Which is Absent causes Pain, and I needn’t feel Pain as long as I am here. I am alive because it is my Duty to Observe the House, to catalog its Treasures and Mysteries. To wander its Halls, delighting in its Infinite Variety. To map its twists and turns, to fish in its Depths, to gather its seaweeds. To care for its Dead. To Love it, best I can.