Chapter 6: The Sound of her Wings
Franklin: Heads up! Sorry, man. Nice catch, though… Thank you.
Friend: Franklin. Come on, Franklin. What you waitin' for?
Death: What are you doin'?
Dream: I'm feeding the pigeons.
Death: "You do that too much, you know what you get?" "Fat pigeons." That's from Mary Poppins. Did you ever see it?
Dream: No.
Death: Okay, so what's the matter?
Dream: What do you mean?
Death: I can tell something's wrong. I mean, look at you. Sittin' here, moping, pigeon-feeding. It's not like you.
Dream: No. Perhaps it isn't. I don't know what's wrong, but... You're right… Something is the matter… When they captured me, I just had one thought… Vengeance… It wasn't as satisfying as I'd expected… Meanwhile, my Kingdom had fallen apart. My tools long since stolen and scattered… And so I embarked upon a journey to find them. Which I did… I'm now more powerful than I have been in eons. And yet...
Death: Here you are, feeding the pigeons.
Dream: You see, until then… I'd had a true quest. A purpose beyond my function and then suddenly, it was over, and... I felt disappointed… Let down… Empty. Does that make sense? I was so sure that once I got everything back, I'd feel good. But in some ways I feel worse than when I started. I feel like... Nothing… There… You asked.
Death: You could have called me, you know.
Dream: I didn't want to worry you.
Death: Oh, I don't believe it. Let me tell you something, Dream. And I'm only gonna say this once, so you better pay attention. You are utterly the stupidest, most self-centered, pathetic excuse for an anthropomorphic personification on this or any other plane. Feeling sorry for yourself because your little game is over and you haven't got the balls to go out and find a new one… You're as bad as Desire… No, worse… Did it never occur to you that I would be worried about you?
Dream: I didn't think you...
Death: Exactly. You didn't think.
Franklin: Heads up! Wow. You're as good as your... Friend there.
Death: He's not my friend. He's my brother. And he's an idiot.
Dream: I'm just feeding the birds.
Death: Look, I can't stay here all day. I've got work to do… You can come with me if you want, or you can stay here and sulk.
Dream: I'll come with you, I suppose.
Death: Well, don't do me any favours.
Franklin: Sorry, before you go, um, could I maybe see you again?
Death: Sure, Franklin. You'll see me again.
Franklin: Seriously?
Death: Soon.
Franklin: Okay, cool. Yeah, let me just get your number and... Wait, how did you know my...
Friend: Come on, Franklin! Are you playin' or not?
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Death: Look! Yum! Okay, two, please.
Dream: None for me, thank you.
Death: They're good for you.
Dream: I'm not hungry.
Death: You can just have it later… Just one. Thanks.
Man: There you go. It's a gift. Thank you.
Death: Aw. Thank you. So nice. Mmm. That is delicious… What?
Dream: You are good with them.
Death: Apples?
Dream: Humans.
Death: Mmm. Bite?
Dream: No, thank you.
Death: Hmm. Have you seen any of the others since you've been back?
Dream: Have you?
Death: Mmm... Mmm. We did have one family dinner when you were away. The twins were in high spirits. Mmm, Desire was, anyway.
Dream: With me gone, I have no doubt.
Death: I don't know. I think Desire missed having their usual sparring partner across the dinner table.
Dream: Any word of the prodigal?
Death: No… Still missing. You were both missed.// "How are you, sis?" "How have you been keeping?" Aw. I'm well, Dream. Thanks for asking.
Dream: How are you, my sister? How have you been keeping?
Death: I'm worried about my brother… And I'm enjoying this apple… Can you hear it?
Dream: I know this piece… I haven't heard it in 200 years.
Death: Come on.
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Death: No. Don't stop, please.
Harry: Uh, sorry for the noise.
Death: It's not noise. It's Schubert… Keep going.
Harry: I can't. He never finished it. All we have is a fragment. Oh, forgive me, I... I am Harry.
Death: I know who you are, Harry… Do you know who I am?
Harry: No. Not yet. Please.
Death: It's time.
Harry: Can I just... There's something I have to say. If that's all right.
Death: Of course.
Harry: Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God. The Lord is One… I'm glad I said the Shema. My old man always said it would guarantee you a place in Heaven. If you believe in Heaven. Hmm? I look so old. So empty. So, I'm dead. Now what?
Death: Now's when you find out, Harry… You ready?
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Death: I thought he was sweet. Didn't you?
Dream: Sweet? I don't know… Perhaps… My sister...
Death: Yeah?
Dream: When I was captured, it wasn't me they were looking for… It was you.
Death: Yeah, I know.
Dream: What are you doing?
Death: I'm taking my shoes off. You should take yours off too. It's good to touch the Earth with your bare feet. It's grounding. Come on, I don't want to miss the next one.
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Death: Hi, Sam.
Sam: Oh. Hi. I'm sorry. Do I know you? Oh, no. No, no. I need to talk to my wife for, like, one second.
Death: Sam...
Sam: You don't understand. All our flight information is on my phone. I just need to give her the code.
Death: I'm so sorry, Sam.
Sam: But we're on our honeymoon.
Death: Your time is up.
Tabitha: Sam? Sam?
Death: Come on, hon.
Tabitha: Sam! Sam! Sam... Sam!
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Dream: How do you do it?
Death: Do what?
Dream: This. Be there, for all of them?
Death: I have a job to do. And I do it… When the first living thing existed, I was there. When the last living thing dies, I'll put the chairs on the table, turn out the lights and... Lock the universe behind me when I leave. And I'm not there for all of them… There are exceptions. Mad Hettie. And then there's your ongoing project. How's he faring up after all this time?
Dream: Who? Hob Gadling?
Death: Hmm.
Dream: I don't know. I was forced to miss our last appointment.
Death: Well, I'm sure he'd love to see you. They're never too keen to see me, though.
Dream: Does it not bother you?
Death: I actually used to think I had the hardest job in all our family.
Dream: Oh, did you?
Death: They fear the Sunless Lands, yet they enter your realm every night without fear.
Dream: And yet I am far more terrible than you.
Death: It was fine in the beginning. Dying and living were new things and people did them with the enthusiasm they always bring to new things. And then after a bit, it just got harder.
Dream: But you continued.
Death: I thought about giving up… Walking out.
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Death: This was a long time ago, long before this world. It really started to get to me. I got kind of hard and brittle inside. I mean, people feel as pleased to have been born as if they did it themselves. But they get upset and hurt and shaken when they die. But eventually, I learned that all they really need is a kind word and a friendly face. Like they had in the beginning.
Mother: Hello. Hello, baby girl. Are you hungry? Mum had better get your bottle, then.
Death: Yeah. I'm afraid so. That's all there is, little one. That's all you get.
Mother: All right, sweetie. Lunch time.
Death: We can go.
Mother: We'll do some eating, then maybe another nap for Mummy's sake. Then maybe the park? Lovey?
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Dream: I find myself wondering about humanity. Their attitude towards your gift is so strange… Why do they fear the Sunless Lands? It is as natural to die as it is to be born.
Death: People may not be ready for my gift… But they get it anyway… No matter what the circumstance… At the end, each of us stands alone. The Sunless Lands are far away and the journey is hard. Most of us will be glad for the company of a friend.
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Death: It's funny looking back now. I used to think I had to do this all by myself.
Dream: But you do.
Death: No. At the end, I'm there with them. I'm holding their hand and they're holding mine. I'm not alone when I'm doing my job… And neither are you. Think about it… The only reason we even exist, you and I, and Desire and Despair, the whole family. We're here to serve them. It isn't about quests or finding purpose outside our function… Our purpose is our function… We're here for them… Since I figured that out, I realized I need them as much as they need me… I've seen so many cool things and people and worlds. I've learned so much… Lots of people don't have a job they love doing, do they? So, I think I'm really very lucky… Listen, I've got to head back soon.
Dream: You've taught me something I had forgotten. I thank you, my sister.
Death: Aw. That's what family's about, little brother.
Franklin: To me, man! Over here!
Death: One last appointment, then I have to go.
Dream: I, too, am late for an appointment.
Death: Tell him I said hello.
Friend: Franklin!
Death: I have to go.
Franklin: Hey. Did you see that? That car came this close to hitting me.
Death: This close, huh?
Franklin: Yeah.
Death: Come with me, Franklin. I need to show you something.
Franklin: Okay.
Death: See ya, Dream. Don't be a stranger, okay?
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Death: Come on, then… What are you waiting for?
Dream: Very well. But I do not see what purpose this will serve.
Death: At least I get out and meet them.
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Death: I just think maybe it would be good for you to see them on their terms, instead of yours. Sir, penny ale for me and another for my brother, if it please you.
Bartender: Certainly, lady.
Death: Ta. Here you go… Ugh. This is terrible.
Customer 1: His Majesty's third poll tax in three years. What else could we have done, eh?
Customer 2: When Ball and Tyler were killed, the spirit of the working man died with them.
Customer 3: We've got war, plague, and two bloody popes fighting. The end of the world is soon, you mark me.
Customer 4: Mmm-hmm.
Dream: A delegation of Faerie came to see me last night. They're talking about abandoning this plane forever.
Death: Dream. Listen to the people. Drink your drink.
Friar: We need to return to law and order. We need to act against these bandits. Puttin' somethin' in the oven. So, he puts his hand up her dress. And she says, "Are you hunting for rabbits again, Friar?"
Edmund: Piers Plowman. That's what people want, Geoffrey, not filthy tales in rhyme about pilgrims.
Customer 5: But Edmund, I enjoy rhyming. And I enjoy tavern tales told of an evening.
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Hob Gadling: Look, I've seen death. I lost half my village to the Black Death. I fought under Buckingham in Burgundy. It's not like I don't know what death is. Death is... Stupid.
Customer 6: You're a fool, Hob.
Hob Gadling: Nobody has to die. The only reason people die is... Is 'cause everyone does it. You all just go along with it. But not me… I've made up my mind… I'm not going to die.
Customer 6: Hobs, death comes for every man.
Hob Gadling: You don't know that. I might get lucky. There's always a first time. There's so much to do, so many things to see. Women to swive. Ale to drink. People to drink with.
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Dream: Why would any sensible creature crave an eternity of this?
Death: You could find out.
Dream: How?
Death: I could grant him his wish.
Dream: Do that, and he will be begging for death within a century, I assure you.
Death: This will prove very interesting.
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Customer 6: What will you do with all that life?
Hob Gadling: I'll find better friends than you, I can tell you that.
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Death: Are you gonna tell him, or should I?
Dream: I shall.
Death: Very well, little brother… Very well.
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Dream: Did I hear you say you have no intention of ever dying?
Hob Gadling: Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's right.
Dream: Then you must tell me what it's like. Let us meet here again, Robert Gadling, in this tavern of the White Horse in 100 years.
Customer 6: A hundred years and I'm Pope Urban.
Hob Gadling: Don't mind them. A hundred years' time, on this day? I will see you in the year of our Lord 1489, then.
Customer 6: Who was that, then, Hobsie?
Hob Gadling: Haven't a clue. But tell you what, I'll ask him in 100 years' time.
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Hob Gadling: How did you know... That I'd still be here? Who are you? A wizard? A... A saint? A demon? Have I made a bargain with the devil?
Dream: No.
Hob Gadling: Then why aren't I dead long since? Is this some kind of game?
Dream: No game.
Hob Gadling: But why? Who are you? Why are you here?
Dream: I'm here because I'm interested.
Hob Gadling: In me?
Dream: In your experience.
Hob Gadling: What do I have to do?
Dream: Nothing. You live your life as you choose. Then on this day, every 100 years, we will meet.
Hob Gadling: Because you wanna know what it's like… All right. I'll tell you what it's like… It's fucking brilliant… It's all changing.
Dream: In what way?
Hob Gadling: Um... Chimneys. Not having your eyes watering all the time from the smoke. And now we have these little cloth pieces for your nose. In the old days, we just used our sleeves… Oh. And playing cards.
Dream: What will you people think of next?
Hob Gadling: With any luck, something to get rid of fleas.
Dream: But what have you been doing for the last hundred years?
Hob Gadling: Um... Same as before. Soldiering, mainly. A little banditry here and there if I couldn't find a war. Uh, but now, I've started in a new trade. It's called printing. Don't need to be a guild member, not yet. Uh, never be a real demand for it, and it's hard work, but it beats the hell out of rotting to maggots in the ground, eh?
Dream: So you still want to live?
Hob Gadling: Oh, yes.
Dream: A hundred years, then?
Hob Gadling: Oh, yes… You never told me who you are.
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Will Shakespeare: Well, Kit, your theme as I saw it is this: that for one's art and for one's dreams, one may consort and bargain with the darkest powers.
Kit Marlowe: 'Tis so.
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Hob Gadling: My friend! Sit down. Got in a couple of bottles of good wine for us. Already made a start on 'em.
Dream: Hello, Hob.
Hob Gadling: "Hob"? Faith, that takes me back some few years. It's Sir Robert Gadlen now, old stranger.
Dream: You've had good fortune, I take it.
Hob Gadling: The gods have smiled on me as they smile on all England where no man is slave or bondsman. Venison pasty? No? They're good… Mmm. Let's see. Last we spoke, I was working with Billy Caxton. Made some gold from that. Put it to work in Henry Tudor's shipyards. I made a small pile. Then I went north for a year or so, came back as my son. Done that twice now. Girl, more wine. When fat Henry had gone for the monasteries, I bought my estates, and a healthy gift of gold to the Crown saw to... A knighthood… That's not all. Here… My fair Eleanor and little Robyn. My first son born in over 200 years on this Earth, that I know of… It's funny. This is what I always dreamed Heaven would be like, way back. It's safe to walk the streets. Enough food. Good wine. Life is so rich.
Will Shakespeare: God's wounds! If only I could write like you. In... In Faustus, when you wrote, "To God? He loves thee not."
Kit Marlowe: Will, sit down.
Will Shakespeare: "The God thou servest is thine own appetite, wherein is fixed the love of Beelzebub. To him, I'll build an altar in the church and offer up lukewarm blood of new-born babes."
Customers: Hear, hear!
Will Shakespeare: I would give anything to have your gifts. To give men dreams that would live on long after I'm dead. I would bargain like your Faustus for that boon.
Dream: Who is he?
Hob Gadling: His name's Will Shaxberd. Acts a bit. Wrote a play.
Dream: Is he good?
Hob Gadling: No, he's crap. Now, that chap next to him, with the broken leg, he is a good playwright… Anyway, I've saved the best bit for last. The Queen herself slept at my house this summer. That was expensive.
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Dream: Are you Will Shaxberd?
Will Shakespeare: Uh, aye, sir. Have we met?
Dream: We have. But men forget in waking hours. I heard you talk, Will… Would you write great plays? Create new dreams to spur the minds of men? Is that your will?
Will Shakespeare: It is.
Dream: Then let us talk.
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Waitress: Sir, do you still want the lamb, sir?
Hob Gadling: Aye. Bring on the lamb. Everything to live for. And nowhere to go but up.
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Customer 7: Do not be so free in assigning plagues, fires, floods to the judgment of the Lord for our sins. They make more from the dole than they would from an honest day's work.
Customer 8: I don't recommend that at all.
Waitress: You sure I can't help you, sir?
Dream: No, thank you. I'm waiting for...
Hob Gadling: Don't touch me!
Bartender: Fucking dungwit. Get out of my way! Get back to the stews with the rest of the filth.
Dream: Let him be. He is my guest.
Hob Gadling: I knew you'd be here… Do you know how hungry a man can get? If he doesn't die but he doesn't eat? I lost it all. My land. My gold… My Eleanor… She died in childbirth… The baby too. My boy, Robyn, died in a tavern brawl when he was 20. I didn't go out much after that… They tried to drown me as a witch. I'd lived there 40 years, overconfident. I got out with my skin a little more… And then it got worse. And worse and... Worse… I've hated every second of the last 80 years, every bloody second. You know that?
Dream: So do you still wish to live?
Hob Gadling: Are you crazy? Death is a mug's game. I got so much to live for… Now can we order? 'Cause I'm about to eat the fucking table.
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Hob Gadling: I heard something funny the other week. Bloke said to me, he said, "If only the French nobles had played cricket with their men the way we do, they'd never have had this trouble." You know, first the colonies, now France. You ask me, this country will be next for a revolution. I've been salting money away all over the world. First sign of trouble, I'll be out of here like that. In the meantime... I'm in the shipping business… There's a new system where they take English cotton goods to Africa, get a cargo of negroes, pack 'em in like sardines. Same ship takes them across the Atlantic. Then comes back here with raw cotton, tobacco and sugar… What?
Dream: It's a poor thing for one man to enslave another.
Hob Gadling: It's just how it's done.
Dream: I suggest you find yourself a different line of business, Robert Gadling.
Hob Gadling: You're giving me advice? After 400 years? What happened to "live your life as you choose"?
Dream: The choice is yours. But would you take that choice away from others?
Hob Gadling: I will consider your advice… I saw a production of King Lear yesterday. Mrs. Siddons as Goneril. The idiots had given it a happy ending.
Dream: That will not last. The great stories will always return to their original forms.
Hob Gadling: That lad, Will Shakespeare. He turned out to be a half-decent playwright after all… You made some kind of deal with him, didn't you?
Dream: Perhaps.
Hob Gadling: What kind of deal? His soul?
Dream: Nothing so crude.
Hob Gadling: Four hundred years now, I've been meeting you here and there is so much I still don't know. Who are you? Truly? What's your name?
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Johanna Constantine: I might ask both of you that same question, gentlemen. Please, please, do not trouble yourselves to rise. These are Michael and Tobias… Smugglers by trade. Although, they're only too glad to augment their earnings by slitting throats. If you move, they'll slit yours. They tell of a tale in these London parts, that the Devil and the Wandering Jew meet once every century in a tavern. Two years past, sewn into the shirt of a dead man, I found this.
Hob Gadling: Is that meant to be me? Oh, I look terrible. You look worse.
Johanna Constantine: You return to this pub every 100 years, striking bargains with men, sharing gifts, immortality, which you will now share with me… Well, have you nothing to say?
Dream: I am no Devil.
Hob Gadling: And I'm not Jewish.
Johanna Constantine: Fie… What manner of creatures are you then?
Hob Gadling: Who wants to know?
Johanna Constantine: I'm Lady Johanna Constantine. You will both follow me, sirs. My coach is without… I can see there is so much you can tell me… So much I can learn.
Dream: No… No, I think not.
Michael: Get up.
Dream: Wait.
Johanna Constantine: No… No, not you… I'm sorry.
Hob Gadling: What did you do to her?
Dream: She has old ghosts that I've shown to her… You need not have come to my defense.
Hob Gadling: Clearly. Still, I didn't want to be drinking alone here in 100 years' time… I don't suppose you care to find another pub tonight?
Dream: She may have told others about our meeting. It will not be safe for you.
Hob Gadling: I'm perfectly safe. I can't die, remember?
Dream: Aye. But you can be hurt or captured. We must be cautious.
Hob Gadling: Always… A hundred years, then?
Dream: A hundred years.
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Lushing Lou: The first I met a cornet was in a regiment of dragoons I gave him what he didn't like and stole his silver spoons… Oh. You gave us a start, sir. For a second, I thought you was Bloody Jack hisself.
Dream: No.
Lushing Lou: No, I know that, sir. Just joshing ya… So, how'd you like to buy a gal a dram of pale? And maybe a quick bum dance? Give us a hard ride with your cream stick.
Dream: I think not.
Lushing Lou: I bet you ain't got it in you, you skinny chickaleary.
Hob Gadling: Lou! Get yourself a drink.
Lushing Lou: Maybe just the one.
Hob Gadling: Sorry about Lushing Lou.
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Dream: Lushing Lou. Is that what they call her?
Hob Gadling: Well, in here, they call her "the Hospital."
Dream: Why?
Hob Gadling: Because she's in 'em a great deal, and because she's sent so many men into 'em. No idea what her real name is.
Dream: Louise Baldwin. Her father was in the British army… Her cousin raped, impregnated and deserted her when she was just a child.
Hob Gadling: How do you know all that?
Dream: Your cup is empty. You need more wine.
Hob Gadling: You knew Lady Johanna. You know Lushing Lou. You know everyone, don't you?
Dream: I saw her again, you know.
Hob Gadling: Who? Lady Johanna?
Dream: She undertook a task for me and succeeded admirably, I might add.
Hob Gadling: That might be the only thing I've learned after 500 years… People are almost always better than you think they are… Not me, though. Still the same as ever.
Dream: I think perhaps you've changed.
Hob Gadling: Well, I may have learnt a bit from my mistakes. But, uh... Doesn't seem to stop me from making them… I think it's you that's changed.
Dream: How so?
Hob Gadling: I think I know why we still meet here, century after century. It's not because you want to see whether or not I'm ready to seek death. I don't think I'll ever seek death. By now, you know that about me. So, I think you're here for something else.
Dream: And what might that be?
Hob Gadling: Friendship… I think you're lonely.
Dream: You dare...
Hob Gadling: No, look, I'm not saying...
Dream: You... Dare suggest one such as I might need your companionship.
Hob Gadling: Yes. Yes, I do.
Dream: Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong.
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Hob Gadling: I'll tell you what, I'll be here in 100 years' time. If you're here then too, it'll be because we're friends. No other reason, right? Fuck.
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Customer 9: Thatcher's bloody poll tax. There's going to be a revolution...
Customer 10: Then shave, get dressed, get a job when they can make more on the dole than they would for an honest day's work. Up her dress. And she says, "Are you hunting for rabbits again, Vicar?"
Customer 11: Uh, mind if I...
Hob Gadling: Uh, I'm actually waiting for someone.
Customer 11: Oh.
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Hob Gadling: Whiskey, please.
Bartender: Uh, you'll have to be more specific. We got a menu now.
Hob Gadling: Oh. What's the oldest you got?
Bartender: Well, I've got a Glen Grant, old enough to be your father.
Hob Gadling: I'm older than I look.
Bartender: You waiting for someone?
Hob Gadling: I think I've been stood up… We had a fight. Last time we were here.
Bartender: Ah.
Hob Gadling: It was my fault. Wish I could say I was drunk at the time, but I was just an idiot.
Bartender: I've seen plenty of friends get in fights in pubs. Even more of them laugh about it together later.
Hob Gadling: Maybe in another 100 years.
Bartender: Ah. You'll have to have found a new pub by then. This place has been sold to make room for new flats. The borough council are trying to stop them, but if you've got enough money in this country, you can do whatever you bloody want… Pour you another one? While you wait?
Hob Gadling: Please.
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Hob Gadling: You're late.
Dream: It seems I owe you an apology. I've always heard it impolite to keep one's friends waiting.
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Desire: Attend, sweet sibling. It is I, Desire. I stand in my gallery and I hold your sigil… Our brother has found a way out of his cage. Our plan has failed… But don't worry. I have a new one.
