The Actions of Love

Two fashionably dressed men strolled into Brown's public house together continuing their discourse regarding a previous engagement both had attended. Upon entering, the outward stale air ceased and was met with a sociable atmosphere. Each looked in the other direction to find a corner where the workers of the morning weren’t, and each found nothing. ‘Here wait a moment’, told the older gentleman who was known by all as Banks. He walked over to one of the barmen and had, what seemed, a very long discussion with him after which he motioned to his friend to come over.

‘Have you found something?’ asked the younger man.

‘I have, he says there is a small back room where we may sit and drink. I have already provided him with a handsome tip.’ They accompanied the barman through the hallway up two flights of stridulous stairs to a door. ‘Ahh, here we are thank ye.’ Handing him more notes to dismiss him.

The wooden door closed and the two were left alone. ‘Now what were we talking of at Lady Martin’s luncheon.’ Here tapping his brow in hope that would spark the forgotten.

‘I can’t for the life of me recollect what we spoke of.’

‘That is the true punishment for our crimes - the inability to recall events which we so wish to. I am so sure it was about something I didn’t wish to hear but had been told by one of those gossiping witches and I alas I don’t know.’ Exasperated he gave up trying.

‘Ah, wouldn’t that be wonderful for the ear to hear what it wanted and for one’s mind to forget what it wanted?’ Charlie remarked to get the conversation that had come to halt to recommence.

‘Aye?’ the quizzical look informed the young man to elaborate on this rather unusual concept.

‘I merely mean that I know so much that I want to know but even more that I don’t. Though I took pleasure in my school days I can’t help thinking that if I could only forget what I overheard or was told by the vermin’s tongue then I could remember much better times.’

‘That is where you go wrong,’ the look he gave made the other wish he had held his tongue and only told this to someone who knew less but alas he hadn’t so he must suffer the consequences. ‘Is there something you wish’d you could forget?’

‘Of course’, he said.

‘What may I ask.’ Banks pried.

‘Sit my dear friend this will take a spell to explain.’ Charlie’s young expression hardened and thin lines that used to be as faint as the moon during the sun’s hours were now visible. Banks’ expression altered but all the same, the old man was eager to hear of this. So, he sat.

‘Pray, tell what this is regarding.’

‘It will make sense if I tell you a tale,’ the older man nodded. ‘As a young boy, I often was confused when my mother called death sleep. I pondered this concept and the only thing I wondered was how then is sleep not death for it is so alike, she only hit me though when I said such things. Perhaps it wasn’t meant for my inexperienced mind to understand bec…’

‘You are still inexperienced only more so than.’ Interjected Banks.

Darker lines came into the fellow’s black eyes which anyone could have sworn were once the colour of sandstone. ‘This aged me and now allow me to continue without your superfluous interruptions,’ he took a breath to compose himself and proceeded. ‘Because I supposed even the dead will awaken, for she will always awaken.’

‘Who is she?’

‘Who isn’t she,’ Charlie stated with a wry smile. ‘We used to play a game in the gardens but on a day very like this, I found myself drawn inside. When I entered, no one was there so I walked to my father’s study and there he lay covered in crimson layers. A dagger plunged into his back had been his fate.’

‘How frightening, you must have been terrified.’ Trepidation stained elder’s expression.

Charlie continued completely disregarding his friend. ‘I didn’t scream, nor was I frightened, it is a marvellous sight to see the sleep mother had talked of. The blade stood bare, so I allowed my hand to wrap around and clothe it. Some may say love didn’t come into my action, but I tell you it did for I loved him like a mother loves her newborn babe. He was mine and now he was gone so once again I tell you this, that I cared for him that is why I did this.’

‘I should be off I am due to meet Buchanan in an hour.’ Cold rods clutched onto his wrist.

The man went on with the composure of a lion before its final strike. ‘I slit her throat to avenge him. I told her I loved her, and I did. My mother’s love like the freshest water was almost enough to extinguish my anger but unlike a flaming poker plunged into the depths of the lake’s purity her love wasn’t enough. I stole from his body what she used on him that was to be her fate an equal to the one she had inflicted on him. For fair is foul and foul is fair.’ Horror was indented in every crease of the elder but to move he felt was asking for an equivalent fate. ‘Her breast bled as I watched the life she had lived pour out of her. The spirit of her being glared at me but soon she had gone.’

‘How could you do such to your mother?’ he stammered.

‘My dear friend,’ the mask that once presumed to be that of an innocent boy had shattered and all that was left was a body detached from any sentiment. ‘To blame me for such a tragedy would be strange for it was that air-born dagger that pierced her throbbing heart. I merely set it in motion.’