Collected Stories by Bernard Maclaverty

Author:Bernard Maclaverty [Bernard MacLaverty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2013-09-11T04:00:00+00:00

THE GREAT PROFUNDO

THE RIVER WAS so full after the recent rains that the uprights of the bridge became like prows and for a time I was under the impression that the bridge, with myself on it, was moving rapidly forward. So absorbed was I in this illusion that I accepted the sound as part of it. It was high pitched and sentimental, sometimes submerged beneath the noise of the traffic, sometimes rising above it, full of quaverings and glissandi. My curiosity was aroused to see what instrument could make such a noise. Others must have been similarly drawn because a crowd of about fifty or sixty people had gathered in a ring on the left bank of the river – women shoppers, men with children on their shoulders, young fellows elbowing each other for a better position. In the centre stood a tall man speaking loudly and waving his arms. I edged forward and was forced to stand on tiptoe. Still I could not trace the source of the music which at that moment suddenly stopped. Now everyone’s attention was directed at the man in the centre whose eyes blazed as he shouted. He walked the cobblestones on bare feet, spinning on his heel now and again to take in the whole circle of the crowd. On the ground in front of him was a long, black case. With a flourish he undid the latches and flung open the lid. Inside was red plush but I could see little else from my position at the back.

‘It is not for nothing that I am called the Great Profundo,’ shouted the man. He wore a scarlet shirt, with the sleeves rolled up and the neck open, but his trousers looked shabby above his bare ankles. They bulged at the knees and were banded with permanent wrinkles at his groin. His hair was long and grey, shoulder length, but the front of his head was bald so that his face seemed elongated, the shape of an egg. He was not a well-looking man.

‘What you will see here today may not amaze you, but I’ll lay a shilling to a pound that none of you will do it. All I ask is your undivided attention.’

I noticed a figure sitting by the balustrade of the river who seemed to be taking no interest in the proceedings. He must have been the source of the earlier music because in his hand he had a violinist’s bow and, between his knees, a saw. The handle rested on the ground and the teeth of the saw pointed at his chest. He was muttering to himself as he began to pack these implements into a large holdall.

‘I want you to look closely at what I am about to show you.’ The Great Profundo stooped to his case and produced three swords. Épées. Rubbing together their metal cup handguards made a distinctive hollow shearing sound. He threw one to be passed around the crowd while he clashed and scissored the other two for everyone to hear.

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