Dante's Inferno

Philip Terry

Canto XIII

Trevor had not yet reached the bridge by B&Q
When we found ourselves entering a wood
Marked by a narrow dirt track.

The leaves were not green, but black,
Nor were the branches straight
but gnarled and twisted,

And each tree bore a laminated white label,
Grown illegible through wear,
And wilted flowers at the base of the trunk.

No holts so rough or dense have those wild fowl,
That flee all cultivated tracts,
Between Mersea Island and Maldon.

Here the Essex Harpies twine their nests,
Whose namesakes chased the Trojans
From the Strophades, with prophecies of doom,

A mutant breed, sired at Bradwell,
Where the reactor leaks its waste
Into the Blackwater.

Wide wings they have, necks and faces of women,
Their feet are clawed like the falcon,
Their fat bellies feathered.

Raising his voice to drown out their piercing shrieks
Berrigan said: "Look closely about you
And you will see with your own eyes

What I won't waste time describing, for if I did,
You wouldn’t credit it." Already I heard wailing
From every side, but could see nobody there.

I reckon Berrigan thought I was imagining
That the voices echoing around those stumps
Came from people who hid themselves on our account,

For he said: "Reach out, and break off
A branch from one of these trees,
Then what you’re thinking now will break off too."

I stretched my hand a little into the air
And snapped off a branch from a thorn tree;
The trunk cried out: "What the fuck?"

And when the wound had grown dark with blood
It again began to cry: "Why are you roughing me up?
What the fuck have I done to you?

If I was still a man, I'd take you both on,
But even if I was the soul of a shit,
You could show me a wee bit of respect.

We were students once, now we are turned to wood,
Not because we were thick, mind you,
Now show a little pity, for Christ's sake!"

As a green log, burning at one end,
Hisses and oozes sap from the other,
So from that splintered trunk

Words and blood poured forth at once;
I let the branch drop from my fingers
And stood as one petrified by fear.

"Lighten up," said Berrigan, "it's only a scratch.
If my companion here had read his Virgil
More carefully, and credited what's written there,

He would not have reached out his hand against you,
But the incredibility of the thing
Made me egg him on.

But tell him who you were; to make up he can
Carry your story back to the world above,
Where his return is sure."

"Seeing as you're asking,
I was a border at Colchester Grammar,
Known for my attitude

And my way with the women.
I was never happier than at a party,
A drink in one hand and a fag in the other.

Later, my love for the booze
led me on to harder drugs
till I ended up on smack,

Drifting into a life of squatting
And petty theft with some old schoolmates.
Eventually, determined

To turn things round, I came here to study,
But soon fell into debt. I had nay any choice
But to start dealing to pay it off.

And it was nay long before the Dean here
Got wind of it, inflaming the hearts of
Everyone against me,

Till my attempt to gain honours turned to tears.
I could brook it no longer, so one day
I just took an overdose, and that was me done."

Berrigan listened, then said to me:
"Seeing as he's silent now
ask him if there's more you wish to know."

"No, please, Ted," I said, "you question him.
I can't, pity so chokes me."
Then Berrigan turned once more towards the shade,

Asking: "So we might better understand your state,
Tell us how a soul
gets bound in these knots."

Then the trunk blew strongly, and soon that wind
Formed into words: "What you ask is easy
To answer. I shall be brief.

When the angry spirit quits the body
From which it has torn itself,
Todd Landman, Professor of Government,

Judges it, then kicks it out.
It falls into the wood, and wherever it falls,
There it sprouts, like grain of spelt;

There's a brief ceremony, where they give you
A label and a number, and sometimes
A mourner passes with some flowers.

The grain grows into a sapling, then a tree;
At last, the Harpies come, then feeding
On the leaves, give pain, and to pain a way out."

We stood there all ears, listening to the trunk,
Thinking it would tell us more, when we
Were surprised by a sudden noise,

Like that a hunter hears
As the pack closes in for the kill,
beast and branches crashing;

Then to the left of where we stood
appeared two shapes, part human part fox,
their faces those of Cameron and Clegg,

Fleeing with such haste
That they tore away with them the branches.
"Let me fess up," said the first, seeing us standing there,

"I was never in favour of lifting the ban."
Then to the other, who couldn’t keep up, he yelled:
"I've never seen you change direction so quickly

Since you changed your mind over tuition fees!"
And then, through shame, Clegg
Slipped into a bush and hid amongst the thorns.

Behind these pitiful souls, who had squandered power,
The wood was overrun by black bitches,
Fleet as greyhounds on the track at Romford.

Into the one who hid they sank their teeth,
Tearing him apart piece by piece
Then ran off with his miserable limbs.

Berrigan now took me by the hand
And drew me towards the bush
Which was lamenting from every sore.

"Oh Nick Clegg!" it cried, "See what good
It's done you to take cover in me.
Was it my fault if your policies backfired?"

Then Berrigan spoke to the bush, saying:
"Who were you, who spit your words
through so many wounds?"

And he replied: "You spirits who have
Come in time to see this unjust mutilation
That has torn me from all my leaves,

Sweep them up quick, and restore them
To their owner. I come from that proud
City torn with strife, which made its wealth

In the linen trade and shipbuilding.
I was foreman when they made the
Titanic, that fated ship that struck the iceberg;

That same day, I made my home my gibbet."