When the sun is in Pisces, expect weariness and sadness.
Those who can banish feare will experience forgiveness and understanding.
You will be called to work in faraway places.
—Anonymous English Commonplace Book, c. 1590, Gon?alves MS 4890, f. 15v
41
“I want some more of my books,” Matthew said with deceptive casualness. He rattled off a list of titles.
“Hamish will know where to find them.” His friend had gone back to London briefly, then returned to France. Hamish had been ensconced in Matthew’s rooms at Sept-Tours ever since. He spent his days trying to keep clueless bureaucrats from ruining the world economy and his nights depleting Baldwin’s wine cellar.
Hamish arrived at Les Revenants with the books, and Matthew asked him to sit and have a glass of Champagne. Hamish seemed to understand that this attempt at normalcy was a turning point in Matthew’s recovery.
“Why not? Man cannot live on claret alone.” With a subtle glance at me, Hamish indicated that he would take care of Matthew.
Hamish was still there three hours later—and the two of them were playing chess. My knees weakened at the unexpected sight of Matthew sitting on the white side of the board, considering his options. Since Matthew’s hands were still useless—the hand was a terribly complicated bit of anatomical engineering, it turned out—Hamish moved the pieces according to Matthew’s encoded commands.
“E4,” Matthew said.
“The Central Variation? How daring of you.” Hamish moved one of the white pawns.
“You accepted the Queen’s Gambit,” Matthew said mildly. “What did you expect?”
“I expect you to mix things up. Once upon a time, you refused to put your queen at risk. Now you do it every game.” Hamish frowned. “It’s a poor strategy.”
“The queen did just fine last time,” I whispered in Matthew’s ear, and he smiled.
When Hamish left, Matthew asked me to read to him. It was now a ritual for us to sit in front of the fire, the snow falling past the windows and one of Matthew’s beloved books in my hand: Abelard, Marlowe, Darwin, Thoreau, Shelley, Rilke. Often Matthew’s lips moved along with the words as I uttered them, proving to me—and, more important, to him—that his mind was as sharp and whole as ever.
“‘I am the daughter of Earth and Water,
And the nursling of the Sky,’” I read from his battered copy of Prometheus Unbound.
“‘I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores,’”Matthew whispered.“
‘I change, but I cannot die.’”
After Hamish’s visit our society at Les Revenants gradually expanded. Jack was invited to join Matthew and to bring his cello with him. He played Beethoven for hours on end, and not only did the music have positive effects on my husband, it unfailingly put my daughter to sleep as well.
Matthew was improving, but he still had a long way to go. When he rested fitfully, I dozed at his side and hoped that the babies wouldn’t stir. He let me help him bathe and dress, though he hated himself—and me—for it. Whenever I thought I couldn’t endure another moment of watching him struggle, I focused on some patch of skin that had knit itself back together, leaving scars that I prayed would heal in time. Like the shadows of Chelm, I knew they would never fully disappear.
When Sarah came to see him, her worry was palpable. But Matthew was not the cause of her concern.
“How much magic are you using to stay upright?” Accustomed to living with bat-eared vampires, she had waited until I walked her to the car before she asked.
“I’m fine,” I said, opening the car door for her.