He had short hair, high cheekbones, and brown eyes that seemed to flicker like hummingbirds.
He was five feet nine inches tall, weighed one hundred and fifty-eight pounds, was twenty-eight years old, and was the finest with epee in the world, according to the last Olympics, and, d'Ouelette assured, the next His name was Ferdinand d'Ouelette.
'Your son?'
'Legally, my son. Yes.'
'You adopted him and raised him. Well, that was a pleasant surprise that he turned out to be so good.'
'No. The good came first'
'I see. Is that a common French practice?'
'No. No. Not at all. But we are not a common French family. Now you know why I was so shocked when you failed to associate our name with fencing. You see, it would be like me saying I am Babe Ruth and you saying "so sorry, I need baseball players." '
'Yeah. I see. I guess you have the Super Bowl champion.'
‘Whatever that is, yes.'
Ferdinand did not speak English. He would go with a coach in two days. There was a contest tomorrow in Paris, which was why all the fencers were at the school.
'Could I get someone a little less famous?' 'No. I insist.'
'I would prefer someone who would not necessarily attract a crowd.' 'A crowd, no. Recognition, yes.’ 'I'd like someone else.'
'No,' said d'Ouelette, with the same passion with which he had dismissed secretaries talking about business. 'On this I have made up my mind.' There was no use trying to get someone less famous, although an average fencer would have proven Lew's point better. Still, Lew knew this could work.
'Every fencer has a flaw, but Ferdinand's only flaw is that he has never had anyone to make him excel. He has a temper, but it doesn't matter. There is no one good enough to punish him for it.'
'Please, I ask only that my subject not be hurt'
"There is all sorts of padding. You wish him embarrassed, not damaged, correct?'
'I wish to show he cannot use a sword. That is all.'
'That is most simple and guaranteed,' said d'Ouelette.
Lew's leg locked that afternoon and required a yanking out. He had to be helped on to the plane back to Oslo.
There he spent a full day renting a cabin and stocking it. He told Sister Olav that he wanted to see her, the patient, and Semyon on the morrow.
In a newspaper account that afternoon, Lew McCardle saw a familiar picture. There was d'Ouelette grinning and holding a metal bowl. He had won his match. The big sports story was at the top of the page. Eight people had been killed in a riot at a soccer game in Rio de Janiero. Here the paper called it football. And Lew wondered why more people weren't injured tearing down the goalposts
Twenty Three
Sister Olav's Report
Subject adjusting well to technological environment, although he appears to misunderstand many things, which is logical. This does not indicate a lack of intelligence, however. In his own environment the subject functioned in a superior manner, influencing and understanding his surroundings in a highly competitive situation.
Subject shows great ambivalence about Rome. Subject loves Rome, admires Rome, despises Rome. Consequently, he also loves its Greek heritage, but is woefully ignorant of Greek culture, which at that time dominated Roman culture itself and, by most classicists today, is considered the artistic giant of the ancient world, much as Rome was the political, military, and, engineering ruler. Of his Greek ancestry, the subject is defensive and, we suspect, somewhat ashamed, while he is also proud. In the Roman world this mixed ancestry was common since Rome was the centre of the known world, drawing in many peoples. What we hope will be determined, if possible, is whether the subject's great conflicts - these diametrically opposed feelings of love and hate, pride and shame - were common or just the property of Lucius Aurelius Eugenianus. We believe that his marriage to a non-Roman is highly significant, since a marriage to a Roman citizen certainly would have made his upward mobility easier. It is hard to perceive a precise structure to his moral system because of the differences in modern and ancient cultures, which in some areas are larger than anticipated. Despite the knowledge we have of ancient values - morality being an easy topic to write about - it is still a shock to bridge the gap.
For someone who was a virgin, who had taken vows of celibacy, Olava had many questions about sex. I was tired of being inside so long. I wanted to go outside. So before I would answer another question; I insisted we walk outside.
Olava agreed, but said there was an important meeting this afternoon with Lewus and Semyonus. Most important, she stressed.
Few people wore capes nowadays. I was given clothing that conformed tightly to my body, and clung to my arms. It had light woollen lining, was well coloured, and had a metal device that closed it by hooking small, almost invisible metal clasps, its name sounding like arrows landing through torn leather shields. Zipper.
A zipper closed the jacket over my shirt, which was buttoned. The pants went over my legs, and socks went under my shoes as lining. I could have a tonsor, but most men shaved themselves. There were ointments that pressured out like froth and made the beard more cuttable. There were no sharp knives any more, but in the last hundred years shavers had been developed where the blade was encased in metal so that one could hardly cut oneself, yet freely shave away facial hair.
'You pull it across your face, Eugeni, and take off your jacket. You don't shave off beards with jackets on,' said Olava.
'I'm doing it,'
'You'll cut yourself.'
'You said you can't.'
'You can if you do it wrong. Let me hold your jacket?' ‘No. No. We'll go outside now.' ‘Not with lather on your face.' 'Get me a tonsor.' ‘We don't have slaves.'
‘What do you call people who take off facial hairs?' 'Barbers.'
'Wonderful. Get me a barber who is not a slave.' 'We must go to him.' 'Buy him and then he will come to us.' 'Is it that hard to understand there are no more slaves today, Eugeni?'
'Quiet. This is fun,' I said. The beard came off with easy strokes, but like initial successes, it led to overconfidence and a cut on my cheeks and chin and just below my nose. Olava attempted to stem the blood with small papers, cold water, and finally allowed time to let the blood congeal.
This blood was not my own, although I could not tell the difference. It was someone else's blood. My blood, which had enabled me to stay in that cold state, was actually a poison. It had been taken out of my body and replaced with someone else's blood, although not from one person but from many people, be cause one person could not give a whole bodyful of blood because they would die - people not being able to lose or give too much blood, which I had known.
The poison was of substances similar to those used to keep blood in a state whereby the body would not be destroyed by being cold and hard. Macer could not and did not know of these things back in my times. In my times it was just a poison. But by its attributes it was also a chemical which prevented the blood from becoming ice as in the mountains or the snows such as we marched through with the cohort.
But the substance was uncontrollable, like this new form of energy made from pieces of things so small you cannot see them. Atomic energy it is called. It is very powerful. It was discovered so tens of thousands of people could be killed with it at one time, but there was no way anyone could watch them being killed, and recording devices that made pictures of things like real life could not work in the heat of atomic energy.
There had been an argument over this, which I didn't understand. I had told Olava that to make pictures of ten to twenty thousand people being burned out of existence, where even the shadows were burned into rock by the power of atomic energy, was a very valuable, entertaining thing.
'That was horrible. To watch it for entertainment would be vicious and cruel.'
'Yes. We can pack arenas.'
'No. People would not come. I do not think they would come to that. I hope they would not want to see it. Yes, I hope so. That is accurate.'
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'You also hope that the dead come back to life. So much for your hopes.'
But who could argue with the benefits of her god Science? And we let that subject go. There were some things I could not understand right away. One of the problems was that I was not sure I wanted to.
I enjoyed acting as my tonsor very much. It felt good to do something, even slave's work. It had been a week altogether that I was aware of where I was, and more than a month that my body had been active. Sometimes when I went to sleep, I thought it might be nice to drift off and not wake up. I could not get back to Miriamne or Petronius or really anyone I knew. Who I could talk to here?
Talking with Olava was burdensome.
It was good to walk outside and see the spring come to the north country and see buds and mud and grass and people and see them operate their machines that went on the great gas power.
Olava explained why she asked about sexual matters. She was looking for attitudes towards sex, she said. This was supposed to explain things to me. It only confused me more.
'I don't understand,' I said. I felt the tree bark and chipped some under my fingernails. It felt good. I chewed on it, not for nourishment, but just to chew on bark. It was bitter. The north-land sky was clear blue like Olava's eyes. I could see how she would be beautiful among her own people, if one were used to death-pale skin.
'Concerning homosexuals. Now you had relations with men for money, yet it meant nothing to you. You went right ahead and enjoyed not only a heterosexual marriage, but one that was decidedly monogamous when it was in your power to keep it that way.'
'Yes?'
'Well, don't you think that's unusual?’ 'No,' I said. 'Exactly,' she said. ‘I don't understand.'
‘What you're telling me is that people in your age did not believe it was wrong to sleep with men and women and whatever for money. That there was no effect on later life, and when a prisoner again, as you told us, you slept with Domitia for information.'
I still did not understand. And Olava tried harder to explain. 'How did you feel about sleeping with men?' 'I didn't like it.'
'So you are against homosexuality.'
'Against?'
‘Disapprove.'
'No. I don't like it. I liked Miriamne. I loved Miriamne. It was good with Miriamne. But if I don't have Miriamne, then I will allow passions their service elsewhere. It is not Miriamne, but it is serviceable. As for what other people do, I leave those pleasures to you.'
'I ask about your sex and attitudes because of science,' said Olava.
'I did not accuse you.'
'I thought you had.'
'You do not hunger for me?' I asked.
'I don't mean to be insulting, but you are not attractive to me.’
"What a shame,' I lied. 'You are so pale and beautiful.'
'You don't think that, do you?'
'No, good woman. You are really too much like Tribune Macer in your spirit. Everything with order. Everything with diligence. I think if you had a man, a good man, perhaps one time, you might take life with more grace and ease.'
'How do you feel about that?' she asked, pushing the device that recorded my sounds to my face, like I once used to use my little shield. It was a punch as much as a block.
'I feel I want to mount you, just to say hello,' I said angrily and grabbed her left wrist
'Please release me,' she said.
But I held.
'Please, Eugeni. Please. I am a scientist' 'I am a person.'
'All right. All right. You are a person. Let go. Please.'
She did not look at me, but at the ground like a maiden ashamed. Veins bulged in her cloud-white face. She could not look at me. 'Please,' she gasped with softness. Her chest heaved under her black robe, and she did not move her feet. She waited.
I released her wrist, and she kept it there out in front of her until she finally let it drop.
'Eugeni, I have made vows precious to me, and I have determined them to be in my interest to be kept. This is my chastity. If you are my friend, you would never put me to trial. I think I would pass, but it is a test not to my liking.'
'I am not your friend and you are not mine.’
'I have been kind to you.'
'People are kind to their horses. Friendship is another thing.’ 'What thing?'
'Friendship is caring, not because your god Science says, but because you want to. Friendship is protecting. Friendship is knowing. Friendship is liking.'
'Did you have friends?'
'Rome?'
'Yes, Rome.'
'How do you ask that question?' I said. 'You mean as scientist or friend?' 'Yes.'
'As a friend, but I must use it for science.' 'I don't want to tell you.' 'Are you hurt?'
'Hurt ? Hurt ? You have heard my story and you ask me if one of your questions hurts? Hurt, woman, is not something you can do. Annoy, perhaps.'
'You are annoyed. Why? As a friend, I ask. As a friend.'
'I am annoyed because you are most Roman of them all, always to the grave matters, always to business, always to discipline. Yellow hair, violent blue eyes, frightening death skin, like snow, yet Roman. Roman in your belly, woman. You have a spine of steel. You are a Macer.'
'Macer was the artful tribune who crucified your slaves,' said Olava.
'You would follow your orders, too. There are worse things, woman.' 'I would never crucify anyone.' 'You don't know.' 'Yes. Yes. I do.'
By the way she answered I knew she hoped she wouldn't. 'Are you an official virgin or really a virgin?' I asked. At that she laughed.
She said she would like to talk about it someday with me and explain, but now she had work.
'Friends talk, Olava. If you know everything about me, and I know nothing about you, what friend is that? I would as soon talk to an arena stone.'
'Did you have many friends?'
People seemed very busy in the immense garden between the large buildings, all like palaces looking out. Some people were wheeled by the nurse slaves, in backed chairs like low one-person
carts. Spring was here and yet there was a taste of chill. Olava, being of the complexion less prone to suffer in cold, did not mind being out. We had an appointment soon with Lewus who had been gone a few days to visit Rome in the speeding air machines. He was back with something important.
‘I asked you a question,' said Olava.
‘If you want an answer, flog it from me. Burn it from me.'
‘If Domitian failed, how could I succeed?'
'By offering me what I want, and what I want is an end to questions. You have one last question to be answered. Agreed?'
'Agreed. For the hour.'
'For the week.'
"The day,' said Olava, and it was done. The question asked was this:
'Did you have any friends in Rome?'
'No. I never had a friend, I think. There was Mfriamne, whom I loved, but I would not rely on her for many important things. There were my loyal slaves, who had a fool for a master. I had amusing affection for Publius, but he was no friend. No, Olava. I never had a friend.'
‘If you never had a friend, then what would one be like?'
'That is a second question.'
'No. It is part of the first, and, besides, it is not about Rome, but about everyone.'
'A friend must be an equal. It is more than liking. You can like a tree, but it is not a friend. A friend must be someone you can rely on, but not use. He must be honest, but also reticent with that honesty because of fear of losing you. Honesty is too strong a drink to be unwatered all the time; rather it should be given in doses. No, I am not sure what a friend is, Olava. But I think perhaps it is someone you laugh with a lot, not by making jokes, but by seeing the world together. A friend is someone you laugh with regularly. That is a friend. And of course cry with. It is a simple thing. I think it may be a great thing. 1 have not thought about it before.'
I did not like this garden or this spring or this air or this time. Semyonus in a white jacket ra
n to us. Olava translated that he was saying we were late for Lewus.
As we walked with him, I realized he was subdued towards Olava, and the ready smile was not there. I felt a sadness in him in his little quick nods, as though if he moved his head too quickly the tears would fall out
'Did he offer his love, and did you turn him down, Olava? He is not loving towards you.'
That is my personal life.'
'And so will be my answer to you, woman, when you ask of me. I claim similar rights.'
'He did, and I did,' she said brusquely, hoping to escape.
'You should have given him what he wanted, so little if any discomfort for you and such satisfaction for him. Look at his sad face. I have seen happier swamps.'
'It is my body, not yours,' said Olava burning. 'Or his. I have given it to my God. And I do not pass it out like little party cakes for the momentary satisfaction of those who happen to be around me. It is neither a sedative, palliative, reward, or bribe. It is my body.'
'If I might have succumbed to fancying you, know that you have cured me in advance, woman. A disease uncaught is the best cured.'
'And it has nothing to do with you,' she said with even more anger. 'Me. It has to do with me.'
Semyonus asked something, and Olava spat back a single answer - the interchange being Semyonus asking what she was telling me, and she telling him 'nothing'.
I would have told him everything, but we did not speak each other's language, Of course, I was equally confused on other matters.
Semyonus said something to me and patted me on the head like his favourite dog. 'Don't worry, he says,' said Olava. 'Don't worry about what?' I asked. And the response was: 'Whatever happens.' 'What does he think he is going to do to me?' 'Nothing,' said Olava.
I thought that was very funny and no one else did. Semyonus expressed faith in me and his science. He looked to Olava as he said this. Olava said something. I had to ask for it.
The Far Arena Page 35