Dante's Heart
The Fiddler
I glanced up at him, and was a little unnerved to discover that he was looking
at me. He smiled a thin, cat-like smile, then he lifted his bow and it glided
across a single string, one of the higher ones, and it made me shiver and I
felt the skeletons in their coffins below us twitch for the first time in four
hundred years.
Then he started playing. I don’t remember what kind of music it was-
whether it was a jig or a march or whatever. But I remember what it was
about, and the pictures that it painted in my head. I saw the Kings of Briton
materialize out of overhead projectors during lectures and gallop through
the white plastic screens on war horses. I watched as the good folk of
Aberdeen threw down their cellular phones and danced in the streets with
wicker wreathes and smiles on their faces. Every pub was filled with the
sound of fiddles and laughter, and the Lord of the Greenwood paraded
down Union Street with flowers twined round his antlers. Blue-tattooed
Picts swarmed up the sides of office buildings and shopping centers,
shouting in some ancient language that filled the mouth like mead. Aberdeen
seemed awake and alive and it breathed around me. It was everything I
wanted.
The song ended, and he put the fiddle gently back into its case. When he
looked at me, his green eyes were practically glowing. I realised that I had
crossed the space between us while he was playing.
“Did you like that?” he asked. His voice was smooth like cream.
“Oh yes. That was lovely.”
“Tell me your name, pretty maid.”
He called me a maid. I giggled. “It’s Nora,” I said.
He smiled again. “Nora, in three nights time I’ll be at the Faerie Mound
Pub. You’d like to come.”
“Oh yes.” It did not occur to me to say no.
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
I walked away from the cemetery feeling more cheerful than I had in months.
When I got to my bus stop I realized that I hadn’t tipped him. I soon forgot
again. In fact, I forgot about him altogether.
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I glanced up at him, and was a little unnerved to discover that he was looking
at me. He smiled a thin, cat-like smile, then he lifted his bow and it glided
across a single string, one of the higher ones, and it made me shiver and I
felt the skeletons in their coffins below us twitch for the first time in four
hundred years.
Then he started playing. I don’t remember what kind of music it was-
whether it was a jig or a march or whatever. But I remember what it was
about, and the pictures that it painted in my head. I saw the Kings of Briton
materialize out of overhead projectors during lectures and gallop through
the white plastic screens on war horses. I watched as the good folk of
Aberdeen threw down their cellular phones and danced in the streets with
wicker wreathes and smiles on their faces. Every pub was filled with the
sound of fiddles and laughter, and the Lord of the Greenwood paraded
down Union Street with flowers twined round his antlers. Blue-tattooed
Picts swarmed up the sides of office buildings and shopping centers,
shouting in some ancient language that filled the mouth like mead. Aberdeen
seemed awake and alive and it breathed around me. It was everything I
wanted.
The song ended, and he put the fiddle gently back into its case. When he
looked at me, his green eyes were practically glowing. I realised that I had
crossed the space between us while he was playing.
“Did you like that?” he asked. His voice was smooth like cream.
“Oh yes. That was lovely.”
“Tell me your name, pretty maid.”
He called me a maid. I giggled. “It’s Nora,” I said.
He smiled again. “Nora, in three nights time I’ll be at the Faerie Mound
Pub. You’d like to come.”
“Oh yes.” It did not occur to me to say no.
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
I walked away from the cemetery feeling more cheerful than I had in months.
When I got to my bus stop I realized that I hadn’t tipped him. I soon forgot
again. In fact, I forgot about him altogether.
Page 1 Page 2 Page 3
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