I
He
tried not to show his anguish as the ball of
paper -- a precious thing -- struck the
chalkboard, but no doubt, they noticed the
instant tightening between his shoulders. He
also paused in the act of writing. He gritted
his teeth, forced himself to continue. By the
time he turned, managed to face the class,
all was silent.
They
expected retribution, of course. They
anticipated his roar of outrage.
Allowing
the cane to support his weight, Marvis sank
wearily down into his chair behind the worn
table that served as his desk, though other
than the use of the stick, he gave no outward
sign of his weakness. With dark, penetrating
eyes set under a heavy brow, he gazed at the
sea of faces, some looking defiantly back at
him, others with their eyes downcast. He
would have said that the culprit was likely
to be one that met his gaze but there was
always the exception.
Justin,
son of Justinian -- that man now dead one
whole turn of the seasons, and the mother wed
to another only last semester. That young
man's eyes, studied, waited. Behind their
glittering brilliance lay an equally
brilliant mind. He shouldn't even be here,
being a whole year older than the others, and
all of them nearing the end of their
attendance. Justin should be out earning a
living by now, but his father's coin lay
hidden in Marvis's house and Marvis would
complete the contract he and Justinian signed
in spit and a handshake. No one -- not even
Justin's stepfather -- would stop him.
In some
ways, the situation was not so unusual. Many
started their education late, if at all -- it
all depended on when their families managed
to raise the money. That was why Marvis often
took food and other things as part payment.
Most though, never completed the term. Marvis
was not about to let such a brilliant mind go
to waste.
Marvis
was not an old man but circumstances, things
that had happened in his life, for the most
part made him feel old, even look it, which
suited his chosen profession. He let people
think what they liked as it often gained him
respect in his position. Many parents would
think him ill trained to teach their
offspring if they knew not very many years
separated the teacher from the students. His
long dark hair now laced with grey from years
of desperation, belied the fact that thirty
years still lay some time in the future,
though each year looked as bleak as the next.
Then along came a light to illuminate the
darkness.
Teachers
hoped to stumble across a pupil such as this
one in the span of their career. If they were
lucky, there might even be more than one, but
in any case, each time was such a find.
Marvis had never come across one like this
before. This young man's mind was like a
sponge, eager to soak up information.
The
teacher did not allow his eyes to rest too
long upon that face. For one thing, he did
not want to single him out, either to draw
attention from the other students or cause
speculation. Justin had not tossed the paper.
"Set
to work."
He
witnessed puzzlement pass over their faces,
hands take up the chalk, and begin to
scribble on their own smaller versions of the
board that dominated the classroom. So, let
them wonder. Was there to be punishment or
not? No. Not this time. Today he was too
fatigued, disgusted with the lot of them.
Well ... almost all of them.
Such a
waste, this class, making Justin participate.
He would learn little among these ruffians.
No. His learning would take place much later
that night, when he could escape from his
chores.
***
"Did
you do the exercises?"
Marvis
moved aside, leaning heavily on the cane, not
hiding his pain so deliberately from Justin.
He was not ashamed for this one to know he
suffered. A heavy, damp quality lay in the
air the last few days, and his leg was giving
him hell. On nights like these, he needed to
call upon sweet dreams to help him to his
rest.
Such
thoughts brought a flush to his face but the
younger man would not notice it in this
light, the glow of a single lantern and the
flickering flames of the fire. Accomplices;
the reddish embers would hide his betrayal.
"Yes,
of course!"
He
heard Justin answer, heard the objection, the
hurt in his voice. Naturally, Justin would
have completed the work. He always did.
Easing
himself into a chair, Marvis waved the other
man forward with one hand, laid his cane
aside with the other. His hair, free from the
ponytail, draped his shoulders, almost as
black as the night, yet flecked with silver,
if not for that, almost as black as his
clothes, his mood. Could Justin lighten his
spirits?
"Well,
don't dawdle. Let's see it."
The
young man hurried across the room, his boots
booming against the bare wooden boards. He
flung himself into the chair, handed over the
pages.
Paper,
precious, expensive; Marvis possessed quite a
supply, stored, hidden ... kept. He wanted to
preserve the work of his finest student, not
wipe it away.
He held
the page up in front of him, partly so that
the light would fall on it more readily where
the lantern hung from the beam above, but
also so that he could study the other man's
face.
Over
the rim of the paper, he was aware of anxious
eyes. The consternation in that mien was his
reward. This one cared about his studies; a
rare thing indeed.
Finally,
he lay the pages aside.
"So?
How well did I do?"
"That
is unimportant."
Justin's
face twisted, contorted in frustration.
Still, he should know better than to ask by
now. Marvis never told him immediately. He
said it interfered with the focus of the mind
-- the relief, the joy of knowing he had done
well, or the frustration of failure -- but
this was a lie. What could be worse, knowing,
or wondering?
The
truth was that Marvis delighted in making
Justin wait. Even so, the anguish was almost
too much for even the tutor tonight.
"The
lesson first, you know that," he said in
a gruff voice. He pushed across a book.
Justin looked up, puzzled.
"I
want to hear you read."
"But
I..."
"No
arguments. You've worked hard this week. For
a last lesson this night, I will have you
practice with that voice of yours. Then you
may have the weekend to yourself."
Justin
frowned with good reason. Marvis never let
him have a weekend without work.
"Don't
question me, just read. When you have
finished the tale you might be surprised that
you will have much to think on."
***
"Thirsty?"
Justin
nodded. Marvis struggled to right himself
using the table as support. He staggered and
Justin jumped up, rushing forward as though
to help him. The withering glare drove him
back.
"I
am no invalid."
"I
know that, sir."
"Do
you? Do you indeed?"
Marvis
took hold of the cane. Thus supported, he
made his way across the room, silently
cursing his disfigured leg. He took down two
tankards, filled his own to the brim, filled
the younger man's half-full and watered it
down. He held out the vessel.
"Slowly,"
he commanded, as Justin raised the cup to his
lips. Then he grinned while he watched his
visitor first take a gulp, then ease up. All
young men loved the taste of a brew, but it
would do no good to have him go home
intoxicated. Besides, it addled the mind.
"Now,
finish the tale. Then mayhap there'll be
something for you to eat. Mark, if you finish
the beer there'll be only water."
He'd
wondered at first if food was the reason that
Justin came to him. Certainly, none of the
local families got enough to eat, some of
them barely enough to survive. The mothers
received less, often dishing out the largest
portion to their man and older sons who were
the most likely to labour in the fields, then
trying to share the rest among their
offspring, before she partook herself even
though such women did a great deal of manual
work. He had seen more than a single woman
collapse in the street, the other women
rushing to aid her. Since Justin's mother
took in another, Justin grew thin. No doubt,
the man was taking more than his share.
Marvis
knew little of Justin's new father. He had
seen him once or twice -- a heavy thug. No
doubt, the mother paid attention to the
brawn, and picked him for a good worker. Not
much up top though, not like Justinian. A
good man that. No end of wondering what the
man could have risen to if he had been born
elsewhere, perhaps in another time.
The
world changed but sometimes slowly. Justinian
had not been suited to the kind of work
required to survive in such a village. He
should have been the son of a wealthy man.
Always weak, eventually the right disease
found him. Marvis almost felt he owed it to
the man to make something of the son.
Perhaps
Justin could make his way to the city.
Perhaps when the time was right, Marvis would
escort him. He might find an apprenticeship
in the offices of a banker, or in a legal
firm. The boy would have to start from the
bottom, work his way up, but there was no way
Justin could hide that brilliance. He
imagined him a partner in a large company. He
would be a man with prospects someday. Maybe
he could even become a physician. Oh, not one
of the lay doctors that worked in blood and
dripping guts, but if he could only get a
foot into a hospital.
Did
Justin suspect he harboured such plans for
him or was the young man simply caught up in
the wonderment of learning? He had read well
tonight considering the subject matter,
considering that many of the words were
unfamiliar, even quite unknown to him. Marvis
had taken the time to explain each one, made
Justin sound them out, repeat the
interpretation, ignoring the subsequent
embarrassment, maybe even revelling in it --
for what Marvis had given him to read was
undoubtedly poetic but definitely sexual.
Well,
it was high time the young man knew these
things -- he was of that age, and a little
more -- and not from the whispered lunacies
of others. The young man should know the
truth. It disgusted Marvis the way couples
married, went to their marriage beds still
unaware of what they were meant to do or why.
Or else they had the option to visit the
local nurse.
Nurse!
Witch, Marvis called her. Who wanted that old
hag probing your intimate bits? No. When
Justin went to the woman or man of his
choice, Marvis wanted him to know what he was
doing. Of course, considering Justin's age,
mayhap he was too late. Many a young man
found himself wed, or a young woman found
herself with child by now.
Justin
approached the end of the story. Marvis
studied the youthful face as he walked with
the book, paced. It wasn't good for the eyes,
this light, but it had only taken an hour,
counting interruptions. Marvis told him he
would get better pronunciation if he stood --
only a half lie. Certainly, his breathing was
better standing straight rather than slouched
in the chair, a habit Marvis constantly tried
to nag out of all and sundry. The truth was
he wanted to watch the young man as he moved
about the room. Besides, Justin seemed to
prefer being on his feet. It seemed as though
he could enter the story more fully that way,
concentrate his mind, forget where he was,
his teacher.
Not
tonight though. As he came to a line Marvis
knew well, Justin faltered, stumbled over the
words, because he was embarrassed, shocked
even, not because he didn't know them. The
words apparent all through the passage were
only now coming together, making the
teacher's explanations into sense. Marvis
watched all this manifest in Justin's
uncertain expression.
"Continue."
Justin
shook his head, tried to lay the book upon
the table. The look in Marvis's eyes forbade
it. "Please."
"They're
just words."
"I...
I can't say them."
"You
can. You will. This is an important part of
your life, a lesson that needs learning. What
do you want? To fumble in the dark? One of
these days, this will be a joy to you. It is
nature, natural. It is how we all came to be.
Only ignorance causes your embarrassment. I
will not allow that."
His
hands shaking and colour flooding his face --
not even the dim light able to hide it --
slowly, hesitantly, Justin lifted the book.
His eyes sought out the paragraph. His tongue
flicked out, nervously touched his lips. His
voice, filled with discomfort, took up where
he left off.
Beneath
the table, Marvis slipped a hand between his
legs, clutched the hardness, and willed it to
go away.
***
Having
already cleared one plate, Justin delved into
the other. Marvis had watched him polish off
the potato, baked for many hours amongst the
embers of the fire. He'd built a little grate
there so the food would attract the heat but
not touch the wood and burn. With the potato,
he served a hunk of cheese. Now the treat,
the apple pie -- the one ordered at the
beginning of the week, paid for this very
morning. Not that Marvis was ignorant as to
how to make his own pastry; he had the
supplies but not the patience.
The
young man burped, glanced up, a silent
apology. Finished, he made to tidy the
plates.
"Leave
them."
His
guest looked surprised. In payment for the
food and the additional lessons, Justin
always tided up after them, even cleaned a
little of the cottage.
"Go
home. I'm tired. I wish you to leave."
He said
this in as soft a voice as he was able, not
wishing to cause distress or make Justin
believe he'd done something wrong, but for
some reason, tonight, Marvis suddenly wanted
the young man out of his sight.
Still
clearly uncertain, Justin rose to his feet.
He turned and then glanced back at the pages
he had brought. "My work?"
Briefly,
Marvis struggled to make sense of the words,
wondering what he referred to, and then he
followed the gaze. "You passed. Only one
question wrong. I will go over that with you
next week. As if you didn't know," he
added, witnessing the open delight.
II
"You
didn't come last night."
"I
couldn't. I had something else to do."
"Such
as?"
Will he
lie? Perjure himself? To me!
"My
... father. He kept me working at the
farm."
At
once, Marvis was gratified to hear that
Justin still had trouble calling the man his
father -- to think such an oaf could ever
amount to such, and it would have seemed an
insult, an offence to Justinian's memory --
but it ate into his soul that the son of such
a man lied. He faced him.
"I
know for a fact you were down at the creek
with those two friends of yours."
He
watched the eyes, saw the calculation. Then
Justin hung his head in apparent shame. At
least he didn't try to deny it.
"Do
you have any idea what it has been like for
me? To sit there in that classroom, trying to
teach a bunch of mindless offal, when I have
you sitting there, the brightest mind I have
seen in ten durations going to waste! I want
to leave the classroom; I want to take you
with me. I want to teach. Then you further
insult me by wasting an evening with those
... those two..."
"Don't!
Don't you say anything! Don't you call them
names! Jeremy and Belinda are not like the
others. I was not wasting my time on them.
They are my friends. They are not stupid like
the others. They act older than their years.
You know that. Don't you say a word against
them, don't you dare!"
The
young man's rage silenced him. Marvis stared
at Justin, the two facing each other down.
Good in some ways that Justin spoke up for
himself, his friends, but Marvis could not
let it go unchallenged.
"If
you speak to me like that in my house again,
you will not be welcome. If you lie to me
again, you will not be welcome."
"And
you will lose your brightest pupil."
The
tone was a provocation, a contest, and a
battle of wills. Marvis became aware his eyes
visibly widened. For a moment, he towered
over the younger man, stunned.
Then he
caught sight of his reflection in the only
mirror hung upon the wall, the one he used to
shave. His black suit draped about him, the
jacket open revealing the white ruffled
shirt, its long length level with his hand as
his fingers clenched the black cane he used
for support. With his black-silver hair long
and flowing, he looked a cross between a city
gent and a madman.
All
this he saw in an instant, as he drew back
his right hand, crossing it to his left
shoulder, turning the palm inwards, intending
to strike Justin with the back of his hand
across the face. Justin only lifted his chin,
defiant.
Marvis
wavered. He didn't want to hit Justin. That
was the last thing he wanted to do....
"If
you so strongly desire a night of freedom,
you have only to ask," he said, lowering
his hand. "For otherwise I can only take
it that you viewed that coming here last
night would be a chore, tantamount to
encapsulation, deemed it preferable to caper
with your friends."
"I'm
sorry. I couldn't help myself." Justin
followed, laid the pages of his last lesson
upon the table. "To be cooped up all
day, then have chores, then come here ...
it's hard, difficult."
"Then
imagine how I feel, equally entrapped, having
to try to drum sense into..." Marvis
allowed the words to trail away. He ranted
often enough.
"Am
I really your brightest mind?"
So, he
remembered that! Marvis looked up into the
blue eyes that gazed down upon him; where
Marvis now sat one side of the table, Justin
stood on the other.
"The
brightest light."
The
words slipped out before he could stop them,
yet they did not seem to disturb the other
man, only cause him to smile.
"Sit
down." Marvis moved the pages forward,
preparing to look at them, save his judgement
for the end of the lesson. This was a new
season; there was plenty of natural light.
Perhaps he would get Justin to do some
written work as well as some reading, make
him compensate for the missed lesson.
Justin
made no move to comply. He glanced up into
the assiduous blue eyes.
"If
you struck me," Justin said, "I
would never have returned." Then he
pulled out a chair and sat down.
Marvis,
trying to hide the fact that a strange
combination of fear and panic gripped him,
hid his face behind the student's work.
III
"What
differences did the revolution make to people
in general? People like you and me?"
"I
don't know!"
"You
do. Try!"
"I
don't! I don't care. I've had enough of
history. What difference does it make what
happened in the past? I'm alive now."
"Because,
damn it!" Marvis turned and slammed his
fist down onto the table, making everything
upon it jump, including his pupil.
"Because we can learn from it. And this
is your history. This will show you, explain
how you came to be living the life you
live."
Justin
stood up, his impetus pushing back his chair,
causing it to scrape across the floor, wood
against wood. "What do I care for that?
I hate my life. Why would I want to know why
I have to live like this? What difference
will it make? It won't change my life."
"Knowledge
can."
"No,
it won't!" He held out his hands, shoved
them under the tutor's nose, and turned them,
showing him first one side and then the
other. The nails were broken, savaged. The
skin around the nails was torn and bloody.
The front and back of the hands looked
scratched, cut. All this he had kept hidden.
Marvis
reached out and took hold of the boy's left
hand even though the young man tried to pull
back. Roughly, keeping hold with one hand, he
used the other to push up the sleeve. The
scratches continued; cuts became vicious
looking furrows. Left untreated this way
Justin would scar.
Deliberately
keeping hold, Marvis pulled him away from the
table, towards the side of the room. To keep
hold of the younger man he could not use his
cane, even though the struggles against him
were weak, only a show. He limped, gritted
his teeth against the pain.
Pouring
water from a kettle into a basin, testing the
temperature, he instructed Justin to roll
back his sleeves. While his student complied,
he opened a cupboard, and took out a small
vial. Setting this aside, he took hold of
Justin's hands, plunged them into the water.
The result was that Justin drew in a hissing
breath. Though it was quite hot, the kettle
had only sat by the side of the fire; the
water did not scold. The heat was necessary
so he could clean the wounds properly. The
pain Justin exhibited was more to do with the
way the water must be irritating the cuts,
causing them to sting.
"How
did you do this?"
"Clearing
the old field at the back. He said it's been
fallow long enough. There were some rocks,
brambles mostly."
"He
helped? You worked together?"
Justin
shook his head. "No. He left me to it.
It took the whole day."
Gently,
Marvis dried the slender arms. Then he tipped
a little of the liquid from the container
into the palm of his hand. A sweet, heavy
scent permeated the room. He looked into
alarmed eyes. "This may sting a little.
It will save you from serious scars."
Trusting,
Justin allowed him to administer. As an
afterthought, Marvis suddenly told the young
man to take off his shirt. For a moment, he
was positive Justin would refuse to obey, and
then he swiftly removed the garment. There
were a few minor scrapes past the elbows but
it was undoubtedly the lower arms that
suffered the most damage. Even so, he rubbed
the oil there also. Then he turned Justin and
placed his hands upon the shoulders.
At
once, Justin flinched. He drew Justin's
shoulders together, heard a moan escaping
between tightly pressed lips. The young man
had worked for an entire day, only yesterday.
He was clearly in agony.
"Patience,"
Marvis instructed, as his student writhed
under his touch. He drew the shoulders down,
forcing them to relax, even though he knew
how much this must hurt. Then he gradually
began to work on the knots of tension,
kneading the muscle. He told Justin to roll
his neck, both of them jumping when the
joints gave forth an audible crack. He
reached beneath the armpits, splaying his
hands, forcing the shoulder joints open and
back. Marvis blinked in mild surprise as he
noticed Justin's height. Standing this close
to him made it more apparent that Justin was
indeed a young man, and no longer an
adolescent. No wonder the bully of a
stepfather had treated him so harshly. No
doubt, the stepfather took it out on him on
purpose for wasting time in lessons. Justin
should be earning a wage by now, or bringing
some kind of profit to the household. Neither
that nor the young man's brilliance was the
only reason he stood out amongst the other
students. The young girls looked at him with
open desire, wanting to court a man rather
than a boy, and some of the boy's resented
Justin's presence.
"What
happened to your leg?"
Marvis
stood behind Justin, his mind blank. His
breath stirred the fine hair on the exposed
neck; unfashionable for one so young to wear
it long, though it well suited him. He became
aware of the slim body turning in his hands,
the oil making skin slide against skin. Then
that blue gaze bore into his.
"Show
me." Justin commanded in a whisper.
***
Marvis
emptied the third tankard of the evening.
Should he have shown Justin his leg? Should
he have explained? Perhaps he should, but he
was haunted enough without letting another in
on the secret.
Justin
has a right to know.
Yet
what if he should betray him?
He
gazed down the length of his body where he
sat naked in the chair. Marvis had a muscular
chest, with a light smattering of hair. More
hair was present on his belly where it grew
up from his groin. His manhood, asleep for
the moment, at rest, nestled between his
legs. Thicker hair on his thighs grew finer
on the way down, cutting off abruptly at the
ankle on his right leg, above the knee on his
left. He gazed for a moment at one perfect
leg, and then glared at its monstrous twin.
The
flesh looked twisted; that was where any fat
in the flesh had melted in the heat. The
sight caused him grief but was not the cause
of his limp, even though the muscle beneath
would never fully recover. His foot stuck out
slightly to the side, formed, but still an
odd, lumpy shape due to the attempt to crush
his bones. A skilled doctor re-set the leg
but over time, the bones had knitted
incorrectly.
He'd
read of a new procedure whereby a severely
broken bone could be re-broken and even
joined by bolts within the flesh. It sounded
absurd, but he had to wonder. All his life
he'd only known of using a splint, resting
the limb. Sometimes the limb would heal well
and straight, and sometimes it would twist.
Should
he have shared this with Justin?
No.
There was something different about the young
man of late. He was surlier, more
argumentative, and there appeared a dark look
to the eyes. He knew a boy, Ives, sometimes
tried to bully Justin. He also knew it was
because the other lad was jealous, a simple
case of the ignorant being intolerant of the
learned. Marvis always thought Justin above
all that, able to take care of himself.
Perhaps the torment was getting out of hand.
So, no,
it was best not to tell Justin why his injury
had happened; at least ... not yet. Whatever
troubled Justin, he sensed the young man
faced enough worries.
IV
"Did
he speak the truth? Did he?"
That
question would haunt Marvis for the rest of
his days, along with his inability to reply,
his faltering steps, his arms held wide.
"You
let this lad bate you. You can't believe a
word of what he says. The youth doesn't even
believe it himself."
"I
know, but in ignorance one often hits upon
the truth."
Justin
spoke a quote. Oh, he had learned well! He
took another step towards his pupil, perhaps
to offer guidance, perhaps to ask for it.
"Is
there truth?"
Marvis
had heard Ives and his snide remarks, coming
down the lane, the solitude of his thoughts
broken in upon by a commotion. Following the
sound, he had come upon Ives pushing Justin
around, literally shoving. He thought to step
in and then he heard the lad's taunts.
"Teacher's
pet! You know what he wants you for, don't
you? It's nothing to do with your
brain."
Ives
had taken hold of Justin then, drawn the
older but slimmer youth against him. "He
wants to bend you over that desk of his.
Teacher's little whore. Teacher's little
pet!"
Ives
snarled out that last word then spat in
Justin's face, throwing him to the ground,
stamping away. Marvis melted back into the
trees, perhaps to save his student the
embarrassment, maybe to save his own. He
hadn't realised that Justin noticed him
leave.
"Is
there truth?"
How to
answer that? Yes and no. There was truth and
there were lies. They were one and the same.
How to explain?
The
look in the young man's eyes shone with
mistrust now.
"I'll
get you for this," Justin declared.
"I swear I will get you for this."
***
Three
days passed but Justin had not come to see
him. There were no evening classes. Was this
the punishment then? Was the waste of such a
mind to be the price Marvis paid?
He
tried to capture the boy's attention but
Justin refused to look at him. He either
gazed resolutely at the work set before him
or out of the window. When called upon to
answer a question, he simply said he didn't
know.
Ives
smirked from the back of the classroom. No
doubt, the lad thought he had stolen the
student from the teacher. Marvis did not
believe that Ives had any true inkling of his
feelings or else he would have teased Justin
long ago, Marvis's secret life laid out on
display. Such as Ives would have declared it
to the world and stoked the flames. Ives's
taunt was simply a way to upset Justin, to
make him deny himself the lessons he desired.
He
could imagine what thoughts went through the
minds of both. Ives, delighting in Justin's
misery, and in what he no doubt considered
the confusion of the teacher, the one who had
lost his prodigy, and Justin, hurt, feeling
betrayed.
I would
never do that to you, Justin. I would never
betray you. That's why I've kept my feelings
to myself, stifled them, denied.
Even
now, he would give anything to change what
had happened. He wished he had lied, raged,
drawn upon his indignation, but he hadn't
been able to lie to Justin, and in that they
were both lost.
***
The
smell came to him first of something burning.
Something ... not quite right.
The
children were aware of it now, though it was
somewhat vaporous, indistinct. Even Justin
looked up and met his gaze. Was that guilt he
saw in the boy's eyes? What had he done?
Marvis
looked behind him to the fireplace that stood
to the right of the chalkboard. Stupid place
for the fire near the entrance to the room,
but in an emergency, they would have escaped
through the windows, and this was how they
built such structures. This fire was the only
source of heat in the room. During winter,
those at the back shivered, so that he moved
them in rota. Now, in the clement seasons, he
kept it alight only for the boiling of water,
sometimes the toasting of bread as a treat
when they behaved.
He
stared into the flames, always surprised to
find that the fire did not stir him. It
wasn't the fire to blame -- it could save as
well as destroy -- it was what men did with
it.
Something
among the logs caught his eye. Black cloth...
He
stood, not bothering to reach for the cane,
ignoring the protest in his leg. His coat was
burning upon the fire!
He
thought to reach out, but then snatched back
his hand; too late.
"You!"
A snarl erupted from him. "You ...
boy!" He gripped his cane now, pointed
it accusingly. Justin stared back at him, his
expression indecipherable. Marvis was beyond
caring. "You did this, and for that you
will pay!"
He
advanced, stumbling around his desk.
Normally, this might have prompted the
students to laughter, but not today. He saw
fear in their eyes and it delighted him. As
he progressed, Justin stood, pushing back his
chair. He shook his head. He glanced towards
the burning coat, irretrievable, then at his
teacher.
"I-I
didn't do it. What makes you think it was
me?"
Because
this is your revenge.
"You
were the last one to arrive."
"But
I didn't do it. I swear!"
"Swear
all you want. Come up here. Take your
punishment."
Already
Marvis held the switch in his hand. He
pointed to where he wanted Justin at the
front, centre stage. Many teachers used the
cane too well but to use it against one of
Justin's age was a double insult. Besides,
Marvis always hated to resort to violence.
Usually, one of his scowls was enough to
cower any miscreant. That was why the
students sat, mouths agape at such a
spectacle.
"No.
I won't let you."
How
dare he!
Aware
of Belinda's frightened eyes, Marvis limped
towards Justin. He had to wonder if Justin
felt more than friendly affection for her.
Why not? In a month or two, she'd be of age
to wed. She was pretty. His rage engulfed
him.
"No.
I won't be beaten for something I didn't
do!"
Justin
took off then, racing around his desk, flying
out of the door, the switch as Marvis raised
it and brought it down, missing him by a
whisker.
***
"He
didn't do it."
The
young woman who stood before him looked as
though she were about to burst into tears. He
couldn't tell if this were from fear of him,
or fear for Justin, maybe a mixture of both.
"Leave."
"No."
This
was Jeremy, the other friend. Marvis glanced
at the youth, his expression a warning.
"Justin
wasn't the last one in. He was only the last
one you saw. Ives came in after. He stepped
by the fire, but we couldn't see if he did
anything. I can't swear it was him, but it's
more likely."
"Please,
sir. Please don't beat Justin." Tears
rolled down Belinda's cheeks now; her dark
eyes shimmered. "He doesn't deserve it.
You know that."
"Don't
tell me my place, girl."
Jeremy
took her arm, tugged her to his side. The
pair stood there silent, lingering.
"If
this is true, why didn't either of you speak
up in class? Why did no one else?"
"And
have Ives beat them, torture them for the
rest of their lives?" Jeremy answered.
"Rather a beating from you, begging your
pardon, sir. Besides, we were all so
surprised."
Marvis
sighed. It made more sense. Still...
"Where
can I find him?"
"You
won't beat him?" Belinda bravely defied.
"No."
He looked up into her eyes. "I'm not
going to harm him, just bring him home. A man
is a man when he's brave enough to admit a
mistake, able to apologise."
***
He
stood above for a few moments gazing down at
the younger man. Justin, son of Justinian,
blue eyes, light brown hair, tall for his
age, intelligent, and, no doubt, as brave as
his true father. Sighing, Marvis slowly began
to make his way down the slope.
There
was no hiding his descent. He could not
remain silent. He could only hope Justin
would not bolt. With his leg, he could not
manage either stealth or speed, but Justin
didn't move. He still sat by the creek by the
time Marvis made his way to the water.
"I've
wronged you, on many counts."
Justin
gave no reply. Marvis leaned his weight on
the cane as best he could, though it sunk a
little in the damp earth. He gazed upon the
seated boy, who rested with legs drawn back,
arms on knees.
"Justin,
face me at least. If all this is over, then
at least let me justify..." Justify
what? Justify it to him? To me?
The
other stood up suddenly, turned to face him,
anger in the eyes, tears on the cheeks.
"You believed I could do that. You
believed I was capable. You accused me and
you believed it. How could you? Why?"
"I
thought it was your revenge. I
thought..."
"My
not coming back to you was my revenge!"
Silence
between them then. Was Justin lost for words?
Marvis watched as the expression crumbled.
"Oh,
but I cannot stay away. I cannot!"
The
young man flung himself forwards into his
arms and Marvis held him. He let go of the
stick, let it fall to the ground. He wrapped
his arms around the slimmer frame, drew him
in tight, uttered consolation, tried to
soothe, and finally just let Justin cry as he
held him.
What is
to become of us? What is to become of thee
and me?
***
"You
think I'll pass?"
"Absolutely.
In a few months, I'll take you into the city
myself."
"How
can I thank you?"
"I'm
sure..."
"There'll
be no exam, nothing to thank him for."
The
voice that broke in on them sounded harsh.
Marvis looked up as the light spilling
through his open door suddenly became
overshadowed, blocked by the bulk of a man.
In a moment, Marvis recognised him as the man
who claimed the vacant position of Justin's
father. The teacher began to struggle to his
feet.
"Don't
bother." The bulkier man came forward
into the room. "You, get yourself
home," he said, gesturing with a sharp
nod of his head towards his stepson.
"I
will do no such thing."
Marvis
glanced over. "Please, Justin. Do as
your father tells you."
"He's
not..."
"Justin."
Marvis warned against the coming remark.
Justin turned to the trespassing thug.
"Please.
I have to sit this exam. I have to. He's been
teaching me..."
"Ideas
above your station. You're a farmer's son,
and a farmer you'll be. You'll sow fields and
butcher cattle. I've let this farce play out
long enough. As for you," the man's
attention swung to the teacher, "I know
all about you."
Marvis's
blood grew cold. His left leg began to burn
by comparison.
"Want
to know how he got that leg, son? Want to
know what's wrong with it?"
Justin
looked confused, uncertain.
"Punishment.
Capital crime. He got that for being a
bugger, breaking the law, and that's only
right when it's someone in a distinguished
position. Makes it a public, not a personal
matter. On this occasion, the villagers
banded together. They crushed his foot and
then rightly tried to burn him at the stake.
Escaped, he did, but not before the flames
reached his leg and crippled him. How'd you
think he did it, slowed down, burnt? Takes a
clever bastard to get away when mangled like
that. You think he cares about teaching you?
I know what he wants to teach. Get on home.
Tomorrow this troublemaker will be long gone.
Either that or I fetch the judge on him. Hear
me?"
Spit
flew from the man's mouth, splattered
precious paper. Justin's substitute father
leaned forward over the table. "I'll be
round first thing in mornin'. If you're still
here, you know where I be callin' next."
V
Shock
set in. Marvis stared at the three faces
before him.
"How
did you find me?"
"Not
difficult. If you have the brightest of
minds."
Justin
grinned at him. Marvis stepped back, allowed
the three into his room. He didn't have much
to show for living in the city for a few
months, but he could eat, pay the rent, and
living at the top of the building, his room
caught the rays of the sun. Today was very
warm.
"What
are you doing here?"
"I
came, to sit the exam. Remember?"
"I
know. I hoped you might, but I didn't expect
you to track me down. I was just going to
check ... after." He turned his face to
the other two, Jeremy and Belinda. They
laughed, clearly no longer afraid of him.
"We're
to sit an exam too. Oh, not the same
one," Belinda declared, blushing, as
though it was terrible that he might imagine
she thought of herself in Justin's league.
"I've
been teaching them." The bright blue
eyes sparkled, conveyed warmth. "We have
to get going or we'll be late. We just wanted
you to wish us luck."
"Of
course." It was such a wonder, to think
of Justin teaching these two and studying as
well. He allowed all three of them to clasp
his hands. Then they were gone.
Three
hours Justin's exam took. The test was for a
major qualification, general knowledge, more
of an intelligence test. The paper Jeremy and
Belinda were likely to sit would last only
one hour. It would be less intense but still,
for them, an achievement. Perhaps Justin
would become a teacher. Now, that was
something he hadn't considered.
Still
thinking of this, Marvis dozed.
***
A knock
at his door roused him. Groggy, he opened it.
Justin bounded into the room.
"Finished!"
he said, throwing up his hands as though
declaring freedom. "And I have you to
thank for it," he pronounced, turning to
face him.
Seeing
no one with him, Marvis closed the door.
"Where are the others?"
"Gone.
On the way home. I planned to stay a couple
of days. I love the city. I want to stay
forever."
What
Marvis wouldn't give to have Justin stay
here, but it couldn't be. After the father's
threat, he had packed up his things and left,
leaving several books with a quantity of
paper for Justin to find. Then, for a while,
he travelled in case someone should try to
hunt him down. Finally, he looked for work
here, lost himself in the hustle and bustle
of city life. That was so short a time ago.
Now Justin stood before him, clearly a young
man who would have no problems finding a
pretty female to marry.
"How
do you think it went?"
"A
pass, I'm certain. As if you didn't
know," Justin replied with a teasing
smile.
Marvis
turned a chair from the table and then sat
down, easing his damaged leg out before him,
then bringing it back beside the other.
Before he knew what was happening, Justin
swung a leg over his lap, sat down, facing
him.
He
opened his mouth to speak, perhaps protest,
and then he was only aware of those young,
strong arms about his neck, the odourless
breath that breathed upon his lips. He denied
the probing tongue, shaking his head.
"I
can't. Don't. I never wanted this."
"You
lie."
"Perhaps,
but only to myself. I never asked for
payment. I never expected it."
"You
think this is payment? You think that of
me?"
Confused,
Marvis looked into the blue eyes and saw
their innocence. "No, not really, but
what else can I think?"
"That
I want to be with you, lay with you."
"That
is unthinkable."
"But
not undreamable."
Marvis
laughed. "That is hardly a proper word
worthy of a true scholar."
"Yet
you have dreamed of me, have you not? When
you take yourself in hand, it's me that
you've imagined."
Oh,
this was too much! This couldn't be.
"No." Marvis let the anger ease
into his voice. "I've not indulged in
pleasure of any kind. I refused to use you
even in that small way."
Frowning,
Justin appeared a little uncertain. "I
tried to find out what I could about you,
where you had gone to, when you left. In
tracking you here, do you think I discovered
nothing else? I know that you're not as old
as most people believe. In fact, you're not
that much older than I am," Justin said,
his fingers playing in Marvis's hair and his
gaze searching, as though marvelling over the
silver strands, "and that wherever
you've lived, you've been much admired. Why
should I feel any different?" Then he
leaned back, shrugging the jacket from his
shoulders. Though he had done his best with
the suit, close inspection would have told
those he took the exam with that it was poor
quality. Still, it served. With the books,
Marvis had left him money, instructions,
hoped he would follow them.
Yet who
is in command now?
The
jacket thrown to the floor, Justin began to
unfasten his shirt.
"You
should take more care of your clothes,"
Marvis blithely chastised.
"Shut
up."
He
flinched, looked into the younger man's eyes,
and then down the length of the torso as
Justin removed the shirt. The closeness, the
now partial nakedness of the one who sat upon
his lap was too much to bear. He turned his
head. Justin slid a hand over his cheek,
brought his face around. He pressed their
lips together, breathing into him.
"Show
me."
"What?"
Marvis was confused, disoriented.
"Your
leg. Show it to me."
He
shook his head. He could not show such a
hideous thing, not to the one he loved.
"If
you want me, show me. Only don't show me your
fear." Justin stood up, stepped back.
After a moment, Marvis followed suit.
Gradually,
he rid himself of his clothes.
It
crossed his mind suddenly that he offered no
refreshment, but this was so different from
that time spent in his humble home, not that
this attic was less common.
When he
found his movements hampered, Justin moved in
to help. Finally, Marvis stood clad only in
his undergarments, his twisted, mangled foot
and leg exposed to view.
Justin
looked at it for some moments, longer than
Marvis cared for. When he looked up, he would
have said the younger man's expression was
disordered, but then the tears told him that
Justin was upset, the other man in pain of
his pain. He soothed, with gestures, with
sounds, stepped up and lifted Justin's chin,
kissed with desire and yearning so long
withheld.
However,
Justin still cried, silent tears, a denial.
The calmness fled; Justin grew agitated.
Marvis frowned, stared down into the other's
face, distraught himself. Something was wrong
but he knew not what.
Before
he could speak, the door burst open. Before
Marvis could turn, rough hands seized him,
tore the young man from his arms.
"It's
all right, lad," a gruff voice said.
"We've got you. You're safe now. Safe
from the likes of..."
Something
smashed into his jaw. Marvis went down. On
the floor, a booted-foot crashed into his
ribs. Pain infused his body but it was no
matter. What tore his soul was the fact that
he recognised the look in Justin's eyes when
the law entered. Justin had known....
As they
continued to kick and pummel him, Marvis
couldn't help but wonder if they had already
led Justin from the room.
***
"You
have a visitor."
Why am
I not surprised? He sat there, on the foot of
his bunk -- bare boards raised from the floor
on blocks. He supposed he should be grateful
for that, for not having to sleep on the
earthen floor. He kept his head lowered, his
eyes to the ground. Another's shadow came
into view. Marvis could ignore him but there
was little time left and things they needed
to say. "Come to gloat, have you?"
"Never."
At the
sound of that voice, he was compelled to
look. He lifted his head a little, strained
his gaze upward. The young man hankered down,
clasped the bars. They spoke in soft tones
and whispers. "Why, Justin? Why?"
"I
didn't think. You left me and I hated you. I
hated you even before that."
Not
expected, though ... why? Surely, the hate
should have been obvious. Marvis shook his
head. It made no sense. "What did I do
to deserve this?"
"You
lied."
"I
loved."
Justin
flinched; the blue eyes looked down. "I
thought it would be a quick death."
Marvis
uttered a harsh sound. "You know better
than that." The blue eyes moved upward,
gazed upon him. Justin looked almost shy.
"I
was angry with you."
"So
you condemn me to burn?"
The
young man smiled suddenly.
"Ignorance," he advised. "They
know not what they do."
"What's
your excuse?"
Now the
younger of them shivered, and gripped the
bars as Marvis always used his cane, as a
brace.
"I'm
sorry."
"And
that makes everything right?"
"You
hate me."
"No."
He replied, surprised by the truth of his
words. For the first time since his
incarceration, Marvis acknowledged the
approach of tears. "I love you. Whatever
your reasons for this I can only guess you
believed them sound. I have to, anyway, or
die crazed, utterly mad."
Silence
then, between them, but other sounds, cries
and moans of other prisoners crept in to
disturb the peace. Such as Marvis sat in a
cell alone solely confined for his own
protection so that his flesh would go
unscathed into the flames.
"Why,
Justin? I have to know. You have to tell me.
You must be able to find the words, decipher
the emotions, after everything I've taught
you."
He
looked at Justin, paid witness to the young
man's tears, revelled in them.
"Remorse?
I wonder. But then you've proven yourself a
great actor. Why, Justin? If you didn't want
my touch, why torment me? Why come to me at
all? Months, we've been apart. You could have
sat the exam and never had cause to lay eyes
on me. Why did you set me up?"
This
was true. While Justin had come to him,
undressed, sat upon his lap, deftly promised,
he had sent a runner, a young boy to bring
the law.
"You
wouldn't have been the first."
Marvis
frowned. What was he saying?
"You
wouldn't have been the ... first."
Justin met his eye. "My ... him. He ...
it's why I moved out to the barn."
That
last summer, Justin had said something about
sleeping in the barn. Marvis thought it a
joke, paid no attention. He had believed that
if it held some truth, the reason was to
escape the jurisdiction of a man who wasn't
Justin's true father.
"I
didn't want my mother to hear."
So,
that explained it. It also spoke of the man's
actions and things he'd said when he forced
Marvis to leave, sent him away, the accuser
committing the crime. The law was cruel, yet
when the situation was within the family, it
often conveniently blurred the line, turned a
blind eye. Justin no doubt saw a monster at
every turn. Now those eyes brimmed with
tears, stared into his without blinking.
"I
knew you wanted me, before my so-called
stepfather said a word. I knew what Ives
stumbled on was true. I'd seen that look
before. Or, at least, I thought I had."
A single tear escaped, ran down. "Your
coat. I did burn it. I wanted you to
burn."
"And
now you'll get your wish."
There
came another change of expression. The
younger man looked to the side, seeing
something privileged only to his mind. When
he looked back at him, Marvis couldn't tell
if he were looking into the eyes of innocence
or evil. In grief, he couldn't help being
snide. "Or perhaps they'll simply take
my other leg."
A twist
of lips ... a smile? Pity me. Why do I love
that which I know not I can trust?
In
these last few hours, did it really matter?
Marvis
had never been guilty of abuse, not in his
heart or in reality. He had once loved a
married man and been wrongly accused of
assault to save the man's grace. If he was
guilty of anything, it was for having faith
in love.
"I
would never have touched you like that,
Justin. I loved you. I would never have done
anything that wasn't wanted. My lessons were
no lie. I denied even my dreams of having you
lie beside me; they were never more than a
passing fancy. I never once thought of
putting that into practice. Justin, never
once did I try that with you."
The
eyes closed, the tears fell. Was the boy in
sorrow or merely basking in the sorrow of the
story? What Marvis saw, sensed and felt,
remained conflicting.
"All
I saw for you was a great future. You were my
star pupil. I didn't believe we would be
together, at any time. I wanted you out of
that hovel."
A sob
escaped the compressed lips. The eyes
remained closed.
"Oh,
Justin! Don't cry for me. Put this behind
you."
"I'm
your executioner."
Marvis
shook his head.
"Don't
go into the flames," Justin suddenly
pleaded. "Use your blade."
Ah! So,
Justin knew of the hidden weapon. It lay well
concealed within the stick. How and when had
he discovered it? No matter, now.
"Here,"
Justin stood, thrusting his arms through the
bars of the cage. "Take me with you.
Sever them." He held his arms open,
palms up, unprotected. "Leave me
disfigured or dying. Or plunge your blade
into my heart and then into your own."
"What
use of that? That we both die, both perish.
Two brilliant minds lost. Now that would be a
crime."
"Don't
joke." Justin gripped the bars, pressed
against them as though he would pass through.
"You're the only person who ever cared
for me and I betrayed you."
"Your
mother..."
Justin
shook his head. "She found him with me,
just after you left, turned her back on the
crime. I saw her. She never spoke a word of
it, never stopped him. I hated you for all
the wrong reasons. I hated you because of
what I wanted. I thought I was in the wrong,
that I deserved such treatment. I thought it
my fault, that surely my stepfather must have
seen something in me, something of what I
felt for you. All this time, I should have
just told you what had happened and how I
felt, instead of suffering, instead of
lashing out." Tears slid down that face
so far unblemished.
This
time, Marvis closed his eyes. In a moment, he
was on his feet. Two steps took him to the
bars.
"Take
my lips, make use of them," Justin
whispered. "Kiss me or have me fall on
my knees and take you in my mouth."
A
tempting offer; startled, Marvis glanced down
the corridor, but no guard was in sight. No
wonder, for if by chance he murdered the
young man, the guards would be at liberty to
have him tortured before committing him to
the flames.
He
shook his head, but reached out to take
possession of the kiss. He could feel the
bars still separating them but they had room
to kiss and Justin's lips were compliant.
"I
wish it could have been you," Justin
whispered, his face flushed with the
confession.
"So
do I." He could only imagine how the
other man had forced him. "With me it
would have been different, but," he took
hold of Justin by the chin, raised his face,
"you say these things and do these
things out of guilt. You may not even know
it, but you do."
"I
cannot bear this."
Marvis
grinned. "I promise you, if I have to
take my life with the sword, then I will do
so. However, I have escaped the flames before
and yet may do so again."
***
He had
a plan. What had worked before, might work
once more, and this time Justin went to make
better preparations. They shouldn't be
expecting it.
Why had
he told Justin of his scheme? Did it make a
difference? The younger man already knew the
secret concealed within his walking stick.
Marvis had told him because, one way or the
other, he needed to know. Was the youth
merely misguided, a victim, or simply the
skilled actor he had already proven himself
to be? If his strategy worked, would Justin
be where they had arranged, waiting for him?
Marvis hated the tingle of anticipation.
Either
way, he would know the truth soon enough.
Marvis
sat and waited, to see if they arrived to
remove his cane.
Still,
it would be a hard lesson to learn.
