Norman Invasions Read Online Free Page B

astonishing her, and frightening her, coveted. Coveted,
as a mere object
. Something that could be possessed, that could be seized as a prize, like a jewel, something that could be owned, literally owned, with no rights whatsoever, owned uncompromisingly, totally, callously, without quarter.
    She regarded me.
    Did she then understand that she was seen as a mere object? Did she then understand why she was so seen, and the rightness of it, why she was seen so, that she was seen so because that was what she then was, in that moment, a mere object? An
object
. How frightening for her, to understand herself as that. Oh, yes, of course, no simple or common object. But a precious, beautiful, living object, wondrous, deep, sentient, and alive—a masterpiece of foresight, preparation and training—but an object nonetheless. Beneath the whiteness, the crispness, the starch, the severity, the formalities and protocols, the conventions, the inculcated restrictions, the rigidities, the enmeshing, conditioned coldnesses and inhibitions, she was a slim, lithe, sleek, well-formed little beast, attractively bred, an appealing animal, an attractive little animal, an extremely desirable little
animal
.
    Ready in the courtyard of nature for appropriation.
    Ready for snaring, for capture and use.
    Did she then understand, in the dream, of course, if only for a terrifying moment, the meaning of her slightness, her fragility, her vulnerability, the destiny and meaning of her excruciatingly, tantalizingly alluring slim curves, of her remarkable, unmistakable, considerable beauty?
    In the dream, you see, I had suddenly grasped something which she had not, that she was the product of a long line of calculated, supervised breedings, a line, perhaps one of several similarly selected stocks, which had been supervised and tended for thousands of years.
    She had been bred for me.
    Her eyes were wide, straining to see and understand, to comprehend. Her lower lip trembling, her small hand at her palpitating breast, so delicate and appropriate a gesture, she backed away from me, and, in an instant, frightened, turned and, fleeing, vanished, and did she think there was an escape for her, and there was suddenly then a vast snorting noise, a roar, or neighing, like thunder, and a mighty form rose up before me, dark and gigantic, rearing on its hind legs, its hoofs flailing, slashing at the air, and I crouched down before it, and covered my head, and screamed.
    I am rather sure I remember the sounds of shattering wood and glass, and voices, solicitous, first in the dark, calling up to me. Then, in a bit, I heard steps on the stairs, hurrying. A moment later Mrs. Fraser, followed by two of her roomers, entered the room. She was carrying a candle. I had seen its flickering light approaching, through the opening I had left, as I usually did, for the cat. She looked about, at me, and then the room, and cried out in dismay. In a moment or two the other roomers appeared.
    â€œAre you all right, sir?” said Mrs. Fraser.
    â€œYes,” I said. “I must have been sleeping. I must have cried out. I’m sorry.”
    â€œWhat happened here?” asked a man.
    I looked about, wildly. The room was in disarray. It might have been the stall of a powerful, maddened animal.
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. I didn’t.
    The window was shattered, its wooden partitions splintered away, scattered with a shower of glass into the yard below. The sill was broken. The side of the window on the right, as one looked out, had been forced from the wall, enlarging the opening. Indeed, though the window was a large one for the structure, part of the wall was gone. Some planking, and several slats of ruptured lath, plaster clinging to it, projected outward from the room. It was as though something quite large, some huge animal, like a bear, a bull or stallion, had somehow inadvertently found its way into the room, and had then, in terror or fury, perhaps