The Prison

by Stefano Pastor

  I swallowed again. “Captain Morgan…”

  “Oh, he loved me, he couldn’t be without me. She would have never given me away, no matter the entity of the ransom. He didn’t even ask for it.”

  “I can’t understand”, I had to admit.

  “He couldn’t give it up. No one could. Even if he loved me, he couldn’t give up on such an opportunity.”

  I grew more and more confused. “What opportunity?”

  “To put his son on the throne! How can you not understand? No one could give up on an opportunity like this!”

  I swallowed for the third time.

  “Now, can you please hurry? I have to change!”

  This time, as I tried to undress her more than it was necessary, she slapped me on the face, and I understood that I wasn’t needed anymore.

  She wore a simple dress, almost masculine looking, which surprised me very much.

  I pointed at the chests. “What about these, Milady? Do we have to bring them with us?”

  She looked at them in horror. “Are you insane?”

  So, we abandoned them on the beach and went to look for a village.

  It took us almost three months to get back to England, so now Lady Stuart’s pregnant state was blatant. She brought us with her, despite my fear that she would have dumped us.

  When we finally set foot on our country, Mike’s eyes were glistening. I didn’t know for sure what he was expecting. Even I had no idea of what role I would have had now. Lady Stuart said nothing about it, she went back to be our mistress and didn’t think us worthy of any confidence.

  We left London almost immediately to head to Scotland’s castles. The journey lasted two weeks and was a rough one for the noblewoman.

  She was moving closer to her seventh month of pregnancy when we arrived at Lord Stuart’s residence.

  Seeing Mike being excited like a little girl disgusted me, and the feeling worsened when I thought of how I would soon lose my dear Milady forever.

  She immediately got rid of us, as we got housed in two little but decent rooms, together with the servants.

  I should have felt happy that at least she hadn’t left us to our own destiny. Those were hard times for England, consumed by internal wars, and for sure none of us wanted to go back at sea. Still, it wasn’t easy to accept that now we were nothing.

  Mike was having it tougher, he did nothing but pine. I couldn’t understand: the case with me was clear, but how could he be pining over such a despicable being?

  Two weeks went by before they called for us.

  Lord and Lady Stuart were taking a walk in the gardens, followed by their court.

  Lady Stuart was hiding his state underneath a wide and fluffy dress, and she needed no support. Her husband never left her side, meaning that he wasn’t embarrassed by her condition. In fact, he was extremely kind to her, almost grovelling.

  Mike was shaking as we reached them.

  We cleaned up, but we could never reach their level.

  Lady Stuart’s voice was emotionless as he introduced me to his husband… “Rupert, my dear, this is your son’s father.”

  I felt myself sinking before Lord Stuart’s gaze.

  I never saw him this close before. Beside his clothes and contrived mannerism, his gaze was alert and bright. I felt naked before him, as he was studied every part of my body. I was so tense that if he tried to touch me, I would have screamed.

  Instead, he noted: “He’s a bit short.”

  “He’s young, my dear. He’s only a boy.”

  “He’s still a bit short.” He pointed at Mike. “He would have been better.”

  There was no doubt about that, but Lady Stuart puffed. “As you wish, my dear. Then keep him. I’ll take this one.”

  She shoved Mike, pushing him toward her husband and grabbed me by an arm. It wasn’t easy for her to make me move, as I stood frozen.

  Lord Stuart looked at Mike and shook his head. “So, you made it here. You did it.” Then he smiled. “Come on, follow me. We wasted way too much time.”

  I saw nothing more, because Lady Stuart dragged me away.

  I was ever more confused. “What…?”

  She sighed. “I’m afraid we’ll have to wait a bit longer.” She caressed my cheek. “In a couple months, the baby will be born and we’ll be free to do as we please.”

  I was afraid to speak. “This wasn’t a coincidence, was it? Wasn’t I the only one?”

  She shrugged. “Let’s make him believe that, it’s better this way for us.”

  My heart was beating wildly. “She…you…”

  She simply laughed and took me away.

  And…

  But that’s another story. The unsinkable Lady Stuart gave birth to a male heir and I had no saying in the choice of name. To tell the truth, I had no saying in anything at all, but after the birth I went back to attending her room, with the blessing of Lord Stuart, that was no longer keeping his infatuation for my friend Mike a secret.

  Did I become Lady Stuart’s lover? Not exactly. Did I stay in the castle with them? No. Lady Stuart fulfilled her faithful wife’s duty and was now truly free.

  The world was waiting for us, and the adventure I would live with her, by her side, would have been unbelievable and phenomenal.

  But, I told you, this is another story. Perhaps one day I’ll tell you about it.

  So long, my friends.

  December 2010

  THEY WILL TELL YOU

  Translation by Matteo Baldetti

  They will tell you that he is the one, don’t believe in it. It’s not true. If it was the only one that commandment had not any kind of value.

  They will tell you that he created us, that he is a sympathetic. Even more lies. He did not create us and as regards the compassion… read the Bible and you will understand. His anger has not equivalent, it is indiscriminate, he is scorched earth while he passes. Love, what a useless word. Obedience, worship, veneration.

  Think. Think with your head. Don’t listen to what they tell you. Them, the others and those who have bent their head, the defeated ones.

  There is always a choice. You can choose who to love. Decide whether there’s someone who deserves your love. Fight for what is yours, don’t give in.

  I fight for you, I don’t give up. Against everyone, even against who they call god, of which I don’t understand the nature. Until death and beyond, if there will be a beyond. For eternity, between infinite comebacks.

  I need to tell you a story so you may understand. It is not a parable neither a product of fantasy. It’s the reality, remember this, no matter what they tell you about me.

  The truth.

  It hasn’t even been a year since I met you for the first time.

  You were at the class door, alone and lost. I believed that you lost yourself, you were too young to be there. But no, you were 10 years old, even though you looked like you were 2 years old younger than that.

  A twig, coated in a white robe running all the way down to your feet. Nude feed, with open sandals on. And that funny hat, similar to an upside-down bowl. An instant of tease, then resignation.

  I was not able to comprehend some particular choices, clinging to the tradition at the cost of ruining a child’s life. I already had collided with that way of thinking. I couldn’t be otherwise, when my pupils were for most foreign people. Extra-community people, what a stupid word.

  The crucifix had disappeared for years. Silently, without having anyone realising it. Closed in a drawer, forgotten. It was easy, I did not know that god. It happened a day, when I found a girl locked up in the toilet. Crying all alone in that burial plot. She was terrified, she had nightmares during sleep. She could not put up with that tortured man who was staring at her. Ours is a strange religion, which assumed a torturing tool as a symbol. She was Indian, she believed in reincarnation.

  How many compromises my life has. One more.

  You were there staring at me, you did not know what to do. Your name was Az
iz. You spoke a very good Italian and I just came to know right after that you were born here. Your parents are Egyptian. You would have got a tough life, they wouldn’t have forgiven you for being different, and flaunting that diversity with pride. I managed to get you one of the desks in the front just to keep an eye on you.

  You were strange, you always smiled, you seemed to be happy to be there. The fact that everyone spied on you and kept an eye on you seemed to make you feel happy. You adored being the centre of the attention.

  I did everything I could to integrate you. You were concentrated but you never asked any question. You were calm, placid, the calmest child in the world. It was easy to forget that you were there. It happened to me.

  Some days passed and it did not happen.

  I knew it was going to happen, it was inevitable. But it was not happening.

  Children know how to hurt, a lot, more than an adult, and without even realising it. They could destroy a life, lead you to desperation, and I see this happening a thousand times. But not with you.

  It was impossible. Tanned in that way it was inevitable that everyone would tease you. They had to do in a stealthy way, when I could not see them. I made myself more careful, I would watch you.

  So, during the break, I caught you. You were alone, surrounded by half the class, in the school’s courtyard. I panicked for a moment but then I realised that they were not attacking you. You were speaking and they were listening. It was something of unprecedented, it had never happened before.

  I almost did not know your voice, you had never spoken to me. Not a single question. I didn’t even interview you because I was afraid of making you bad in front of the class. I came closer, more curious than worried.

  You were telling a fairy tale, at least it was what it seemed to be until I realised you got it out from the Koran. It was a story about a stone fallen from the sky, sent by Allah to free the man of the evil. Mahomet himself brought it to the Mecca and today it is still venerated.

  I knew that story, vague reminiscences from school. I stayed to listen anyway, because it was good listening to you speaking. You had a warm voice, not the one of a child, full of surprise and participation. You were living what you were telling, each phrase left from the heart.

  Then you put your hand into the tunic and get a pebble out. It was all black, big as an olive. Even the shape was similar.

  “This is a fragment of the Black Stone”, you said.

  Big surprise and even fear. I wouldn’t hide the smile and I let you go on.

  “It has been my family’s for so many generations, my grandfather gave it to me, I need to keep it.”

  You believed in it. You grandfather fooled you. Who knows how many fragments of the Black Stone existed all over the world, maybe more than the splinters of the True Cross, that were even sold on EBay.

  “What does it do?” a girl asked.

  “I told you, it frees the man by evil.”

  “Which evil?” another asked.

  The situation degenerated, I had to intervene.

  But I didn’t move. The last one to speak was Silvia. Strange this as even she never talked. She tried to hide, to cancel herself, to not exist. A bad birthmark defaced her face and she could not get over it. I tried to help her but it was useless.

  “The Evil is the evil”, you said. “It’s everywhere.”

  You did not know what to reply, indeed. She stepped forward and she comply another strange action: she took off her craft which she used to cover her face. The birthmark came to light, red as wine. “Is this evil?” she asked to you.

  Yes, I had to intervene, but you got there before me. “I think it is”, it was your answer.

  “Could it take it away?” she asked.

  You were unsure, fearful, maybe sorry to have talked too much. “I don’t know, I have never done it. We need to believe in it for real though.”

  “I believe in it”, Silvia said.

  You were not sure. “We need to believe in Allah”, you said. “He is the one who could make a miracle.”

  We pushed ourselves a bit too far, I shouldn’t have let that. I intervened. “Allah doesn’t make miracles, just God has got this power.”

  I said a heresy, your eyes were open wide, similar to the ones of a fawn. “In the name of Allah Mahomet moved the mountains!”

  You were disturbed and I smiled. I went ahead because I did not really want to involve myself into a discussion about theology with a kid. “Come on folks. The break is over, get back to the class.”

  Silvia did not give up. “How do I do?” it was her worry.

  You told her what to do, I do not know when. After school, maybe, far from my vision. However, when Silvia got back in class the day after, the scarf disappeared and so the birthmark. Silvia were beautiful, radiant, almost perfect. She smiled to everyone, but especially to you. There was veneration into her eyes.

  I made a mistake, I chose not to see. I knew what her answer would be if I was to ask what happened to her. I didn’t believe in miracles, especially the ones that were carried out by a little stone that was picked up on the streets, if there was an explanation they wouldn’t have never given me one. I didn’t want the irrational to break into my life.

  I kept on teach and I ignored each problem.

  During the break, you were surrounded by all the class. You seemed to be in heaven, telling you fairy tale as a modern saviour. You kept saying what they taught you. And your classmates believed you, for real.

  That absurdity had to come to an end. I pushed towards you but again, someone was there before me. Marco, the silent one, babe in the woods of the back line of desks, the one who never talked, that never followed the lesson, lost in his world, stepped forward. He was limping.

  It was two years. A bad fall from the bicycle. Some days it got worse, he could not even walk. Not in that moment, he dragged the foot a bit. He spoke that day. “Can you take it away from me as well?” he asked to you.

  Strong for the success you had with Silvia, you nodded. It was late, too late, I could not get there on time.

  When you took the stone, I caught your hand.

  “Don’t do it!” I said.

  I won’t never forget you petrified eyes. “You won’t take it away from me!”, you implored me. “Don’t do it!”

  I should have done it instead, even if I didn’t even think about it. It should have been better. I let you go. “Put it way though. These things are not to be done in school, I can’t stand this.” Then I said: “And stop talking about religion.”

  It was a mistake of Biblical proportions.

  The day after, Marco no longer limped. He was smiling and speaking as well, with everyone. My class changed, the eyes of everyone weren’t on me anymore. You eclipsed me.

  During the break, I did not spy on your exploits, I chose to go and talk to the director. Simona had been there for her entire life, maybe even before the building was built. I got to the point right away with her.

  “We got a problem”, I said.

  She tilted her glasses for a better vision.

  “One of my pupils is making proselytes”, I said to her.

  “Proselytes?” she said in perplexity. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “He is a missionary, he is preaching.”

  She burst in laughs. “What class have you got this year, the fourth? Even preaching!”

  “He does a little more” I said. “Performs miracles.”

  She was about to choke. “Did you say Miracles? A kid?”

  She did not quite get the gravity of the situation.

  “He converted all of the class.”

  “Converted…to what?”

  “Islamism. Now everyone prays for Allah.”

  She didn’t laugh that time. She frowned. “Are you serious?”

  And again. “In my class, there are pupils of 7 different faiths, but now they all pray for Allah.”

  “Christians as well?”

  “Especially the Ch
ristians.”

  She nodded. “Something like this had never ever happened to me…it is incredible. And you?”

  “Me? I came to you just because I don’t know what to do.”

  “Do you pray for Allah?” she said.

  “I do not believe in God”, I said. “Any.”

  She sighed. “Tell me exactly how things actually are.”

  I did it.

  Maybe I overstated the situation, and as regards that, I was a very good prophet. The next morning, the whole class started praying with you, and all of them did it in belief. I watched, even more surprised. You were on your knees, in the courtyard, you seemed to be in ecstasy.

  “You are right”, Simona said, appearing from a side and making me wince.

  “What do I need to do?” I asked.

  She was an old fox. “It is better not to mess with religions, that might cause trouble.”

  “We are in trouble. Hoping that they didn’t talk about it at home.”

  The fact that Silvia’s birthmark and Marco no longer limped couldn’t go unnoticed.

  “Do you believe in miracles?” I asked to her, given that she always said to be a strong catholic person.

  “Oh, come on!” she snapped.

  Next day, I ordered you to remain in class, during break. It was not a punishment even though you saw that like it was. I had to know, I had to understand.

  “Tell me about the stone”, I asked.

  “Do you want to take it away from me?”

  It was all you had, no toys. It was all for you. Your family was poor but they gave their most precious good to you.

  “I don’t want to take anything away from you, tell me what it is.”

  You took it and put it on the desk. It was so small and useless. “My grandfather gave it to me.”

  “Why?”

  “To maintain it.”

  “Does he know you bring it in school.”

  Your tilt your eyes down. He didn’t know.

  “It was really that important as you say, do you think he would give it to a kid?”