The Eyes Of A King Part 19

"Well, eat some anyway," said Grandmother.

"It's a bad idea," I said.

"I didn't ask you, Leo," she told me.

Stirling was violently sick after he ate that soup. Grandmother had antic.i.p.ated it with a bucket. "Leo, take this down to the yard to wash out," she said, handing it to me. Stirling was still gray-faced. "Bring the other bucket from the cupboard in the kitchen," she called after me. "Before you go down."

"I knew it was a bad idea to give him the soup," I said, quite good-naturedly, when she handed me the other bucket on my return from the yard.

"That is not helpful!" she told me shortly.

"How long is this going to go on for?" I said, with slightly less goodwill, the fourth time I had trailed upstairs again.

"Sorry," Stirling croaked, which made me feel guilty.

"I was joking," I said. "I do not mind."

"Why the h.e.l.l can we not have b.l.o.o.d.y running water?" I demanded, about the tenth time. I stood there and told her what I thought of our apartment, banging the bucket down on the floor.

"Leo!" exclaimed Grandmother. "Stop swearing like that."

"And why do I have to keep rinsing them out only for him to throw up in them again? It barely takes up any s.p.a.ce in the d.a.m.n bucket. Can't he throw up twice in one, and then I'll take it down? Or can't he come downstairs to the bathroom?"

"Leo!" shouted Grandmother. "Do you not understand what is wrong? It's silent fever! No, he can't come downstairs! Heaven and earth-I despair of you, Leo!"

"I ... could ... try ...," said Stirling, attempting to get up.

"Stay where you are," said Grandmother. "Leo, go downstairs and wash this out." I went, muttering curses and slamming the door. I was suddenly exhausted, and I had no energy left for kindness.

Maria came out into the yard as I was swilling out the bucket into the drain. "Leo," she said. I nodded to her. "What are you doing?"

"Pouring vomit down the drain," I said heavily after a moment. She smiled. "It's not b.l.o.o.d.y funny," I told her.

"Sorry." Her face was serious again. "It was just the way you said it. Sorry. Do you need any help with anything?"

"Like what?"

"Just ... anything. It must be hard work for you and your grandmother to look after Stirling, and I would like to be of help to you."

"It has only been one day," I told her.

"True. You look tired, though."

I sighed. "Do you know how many times I've washed this thing out?" I demanded, punctuating the sentence with several curses.

"A lot, I'm guessing. I don't know." She refused to let me draw her into an argument. I wished she wouldn't. I needed someone to shout at.

"Neither do I. I've lost count." I went to the tap, poured more water into the bucket, and trailed back over to the drain to pour it out again.

"I could have helped with that."

"Why the h.e.l.l would you want to wash vomit down the drain? For your own amus.e.m.e.nt, or what?"

"You have hardly slept all the time that Stirling has been ill, Leo," she said, still standing there. "Even when we thought he was getting better, you were sitting up with him. I worry about you."

"Well, you are the only one who does."

"Tell your grandmother that I will come and help with anything. Any time, day or night. If you cannot ask your friends for help, Leo, who can you ask?" I gave in at last and tried to smile at her, by way of an apology, though without much success. She came over and took the bucket from me. It was reasonably clean, except for a tidemark of yellow sc.u.m near the bottom. She put her hand to my face and pushed my hair back from my forehead.

"Try to get some rest," she said, looking at me with concern. I hardly even noticed how pretty she was anymore.

I was woken at four the next morning by Stirling's screaming. I was sleeping on the sofa in the living room so that Grandmother could be near Stirling. She had only just persuaded me to go to bed. "Help!" Stirling was crying again. "Help me!" was woken at four the next morning by Stirling's screaming. I was sleeping on the sofa in the living room so that Grandmother could be near Stirling. She had only just persuaded me to go to bed. "Help!" Stirling was crying again. "Help me!"

"Stirling," Grandmother was saying. "Stirling. Stirling." The way that Father Dunstan had, except her voice was not calm. I got up.

"What is it?" I asked sleepily. Stirling was thras.h.i.+ng about wildly, as if a demon was in him.

"Stop him, Leo," pleaded Grandmother. "He will make himself worse. Hold him still." She sounded so childlike it frightened me to hear her. I crossed to the bed and kneeled down beside it, catching hold of Stirling's arms.

He cried out again. "Help!" "Help!"

"Stirling. It is me, Leo. I will not harm you. You are safe." He lay still. "Shh," I told him. "It's all right."

Suddenly his arm burst upward out of my grasp, his fingernail catching my eyeball. I swore, clasping at it, and let go his arms. He struck out at the air as if there was something just out of his reach in front of him. "Help me!" he wailed. "Oh, help me! Help! Help! Help!" The words were drawn out and distorted as if he was crying out in a different language.

"He is hallucinating again," said Grandmother.

"No!" cried Stirling. "No! Help me, Leo!" He looked straight at me then, and the look was so eerie that I drew back from him. He reached out to me. "Leo! Can't you hear?" And he began to wail again.

"I am here. What is it? What is wrong?"

"My head! Help me! My head!" He wailed, clutching at it.

"It's a headache?" I said. "Tell me, Stirling."

"My head's going to break! My head! Oh!" A tear burst from his eye and landed halfway down his cheek. "Help me, Leo! Grandmother!" She took his hand and he clung to her, crying.

"Shall I get a cloth to put on his head?" I asked.

"Yes," said Grandmother. "Shh, Stirling. Shh."

There was still some water in the jar in the kitchen. I poured some onto a cloth, wrung it out over the basin, and brought it back in. Stirling was still sobbing, his arms around Grandmother's neck. She took the cloth from me and pressed it to his forehead. "There," she said soothingly. I sat down on the end of the bed, rubbing my head. I was feeling a lot worse for getting some sleep; I had not known how tired I was before.

Stirling lay down again, more calmly. His crying subsided into breathless hiccups. "Shh," Grandmother continued quietly. "Shh, Stirling." He clasped at his head in a sudden movement. She took his hand and placed it back down at his side. "All right. It's all right." More tears squeezed from his eyes and rolled sideways over his cheeks and onto the pillows.

"All right," Grandmother said again. He coughed shakily and caught onto her hand. "All right."

I found that I had somehow ended up bent double, with my head resting on my knees. I was falling asleep. I sat up quickly, my feet scuffing on the floor, and they both turned to me. "Shh, Leo," Grandmother mouthed, frowning. Stirling just stared at me, as if he had not recognized who I was at all. I stood up and crossed to the window. Without thinking, I began to draw back the curtains, but light stabbed into the room. Stirling clutched at his head and began crying again. "Leo!" whispered Grandmother. I shut them again hastily. Stirling's creaking sobs came faster and faster, as if he could not breathe. "Shh," said Grandmother, dabbing the cloth on his forehead. "Shh." She stroked his head. "My poor Stirling. Poor baby."

"Oh-my head," he moaned. "I am getting worse! I am getting worse! Why can't I just die now?"

"It's all right, Stirling," Grandmother said. "You are not going to die. You are going to get better. The worst will soon be over. It's all right."

"But my head-"

"Calm down; you are hurting it more by crying. Concentrate on breathing. That's it. Breathe in...." He took a rattling gasp. "Breathe out. Slowly." He clutched at his head again, and again she removed his hand.

"Shh," she whispered over and over again as if to lull him into sleep. His sobbing breaths went on, but they grew slower, and he grew calmer and shut his eyes. After perhaps half an hour had pa.s.sed, Grandmother turned carefully to me. "Go back to sleep, Leo," she mouthed. I tried to shake my head, but she turned to Stirling before she could see, and I found myself trailing into the living room and falling heavily onto the sofa.

I did not think that I had fallen back to sleep, except I woke. I dragged myself up off the sofa; it felt as if I was waking from death. Then I remembered why I was there: because Stirling was sick. I could hear him crying in the other room. I stumbled through the door. Grandmother was still sitting on his bed. "Leo, stay with your brother for a minute," she whispered. "I am going down to the bathroom." I sat on the bed, rubbing my eyes. Stirling caught my hand, his own palm feverish and dry. did not think that I had fallen back to sleep, except I woke. I dragged myself up off the sofa; it felt as if I was waking from death. Then I remembered why I was there: because Stirling was sick. I could hear him crying in the other room. I stumbled through the door. Grandmother was still sitting on his bed. "Leo, stay with your brother for a minute," she whispered. "I am going down to the bathroom." I sat on the bed, rubbing my eyes. Stirling caught my hand, his own palm feverish and dry.

"All right, Stirling," I said sleepily.

"I'll only be a moment." She hurried out.

"Leo!" Someone was shaking me by the shoulder. "Wake up." It was Grandmother. "Leo, you will be late for school."

I sat up. "What is it?"

I was lying slumped half on Stirling's bed and half on the floor. I must have fallen asleep.

"Hurry. You will be late for school."

I stood up. "School?"

"Yes, it is already a quarter to eight, and you haven't got the water yet."

"Cannot you do it?"

"No, I can't carry it."

"Neither can I," I said stupidly, but I had to get it.

It was ridiculous even to think of going to school, but I was so tired I hardly realized I was going until I got there. Sergeant Markey met me in the front yard. "You are fifteen minutes late, North." Why did he have to say everything at such a high volume?

"Yes," I said, taking a step back.

"Go and wait outside the colonel's office." I wandered off in the direction of the school. "Hurry, North! We don't have all b.l.o.o.d.y day!" I walked even more slowly. "North, come back here!" he shouted. "I expect an apology for your lateness."

"I'll apologize to the colonel when I see him," I called over my shoulder, and walked into the school.

Sergeant Markey was on duty, so Sergeant Markey was the one who would punish me. I had forgotten, of course. "Why were you so late, North?" he demanded.

"Er ... my brother's ill.... I did not get much sleep ...," I muttered.

"That is no excuse." I did not answer. "That is no excuse at all," he said.

"I didn't say it was a d.a.m.n excuse; you asked me why I was late, so I told-"

He hit me, and I fell backward hard against the corridor wall. "You need to learn some respect, North!" he told me, his hand still raised from striking the side of my face. "Some serious respect."

"Like h.e.l.l I do," I said. And I turned and walked out.

"North!" he said. "North, come back here this instant! My G.o.d, you'll be sorry when you get back!" I marched out into the yard, and the door cut off his shouts. I was not going back.

I put my hand up to my stinging face once I was out of sight of the yard. That would come up with an ugly red mark. I swore out loud at him, not caring who heard it. At that moment there was no one I hated more than Sergeant Markey. I stalked down the street, fuming, and was halfway home before I realized it. Grandmother would ask questions. Still, it could not be helped.

I met Maria on the stairs. "What are you doing here, Leo?" she asked, jogging the baby up and down. "I thought you were at school. And what happened to your face?" Anselm began to wail.

"b.l.o.o.d.y Sergeant Markey," I said loudly, over the noise.

"What-he hit you?"

I nodded. I was still breathing fast with anger. "I walked out," I told her.

"Out of school? Will you not get into trouble?"

I shrugged. "They expelled a boy the other year for walking out of cla.s.s."

"That's serious, then. Why did you do it?"

"What do you mean, why did I do it? Should I just stand there and take it?" I was raising my voice.

"Shh," she told Anselm, rocking him. And then to me: "Don't be aggressive. I didn't say you should stand there and take it. I just asked why you walked out."

"I felt like it."

She looked worried. "Are you set on ruining your whole life, Leo?"

"This is coming from who? Righteousness herself, evidently, with a baby at fifteen."

The concern froze on her face. "Leo, that is unfair!" I looked at the floor. "That is what you think I am, is it? Some sort of s.l.u.t? Is that what you think of me?"

"No ...," I began. "Maria-"

"I am glad to know you have such a high opinion of me."

"I'm sorry. I did not mean that." She turned and walked out the door. It slammed shut behind her.

I marched up the stairs. "Leo, what are you doing here?" Grandmother demanded when I edged around the bedroom door. "And was that you I heard shouting and stamping about in the corridor? I hope to goodness it was not." I did not reply but trailed over to my bed and sat down heavily. "Leo, what are you doing here?" she said again. Stirling was asleep, his face to the wall. "Leo! Answer me!"

I did not answer, but she went on hissing questions at me. "I left school!" I shouted eventually. "I left school because of that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Markey. I wish all his descendants would follow him to h.e.l.l." I said several other things before she cut me off.

"Leo!" she exclaimed. "Do not dare to use that language! And what do you mean, you left school? Why? Why did you leave school?" I shut my eyes, but she went on. It turned into another argument. she exclaimed. "Do not dare to use that language! And what do you mean, you left school? Why? Why did you leave school?" I shut my eyes, but she went on. It turned into another argument.