章節 29: 29. A Safe Haven
Joseph had to use all his dexterity to keep himself balanced on his crutches while Tariq helped Filip to the carriage, a small chariot pulled by two fat horses. The coachman was an elderly man, seeming to be in his late 60's or early 70's, with not much strength remaining in his bones, so the prince held Svoboda by his waist, lifting him to the door as easily as if he were a 9-year-old child, and throwing his bag inside after him.
It would be too petty of Joseph to complain or rush the prince, given the overall state of the other boy. Although he was in a far better condition than the night before, he was still too weak to carry any weight or climb the carriage by himself.
The young doctor wasn't exactly fond of Svoboda’s apparent complicity with Tariq, but well...the choice wasn't his, after all. And thank God the incident with the pie seemed to pass by unnoticed, unlike the incident with Honza.
*He seemed to be really...upset with the fact that Svoboda was with us.*
*If he really was, then why did he demean him in the first place?*
Joseph shook his head.
*I'm expecting decency from a pig. Most likely he’s just offended because Svoboda grew the bollocks to make up his own mind to help me.*
He sighed, looking up and staring at Filip's pale, sunken face. He was talking to Tariq about something regarding their dormitory, then he reached out and shook the prince’s hand.
*Maybe he isn't actually THAT bad after all?*
Filip glanced at Joseph, offering him his hand.
"Thank you very much for saving me, too, Selden."
The doctor's eyes widened as his mouth fell open. He raised his left hand and looked from it to Filip, then to prince Tariq, who he noticed was holding back a laugh.
"Your hands are clashing. Just saying."
"Oh! That's right, he broke his right hand,” Svoboda said with a chuckle. “I'm sorry." He offered Joseph his left hand with a smile.
It was bizarre to think that, only two weeks ago, he was punching Svoboda, grovelling in the mud.
He took the other boy's hand, using all his willpower to hold back his own smile.
***
After all the coaches left, taking away the boys who had a place to stay during the weekend, the patio became silent, and Joseph noticed how swollen and irritated his foot was. He limped over to the closest stone bench and threw himself down, letting the crutches fall loudly to the ground.
Thank God the prince was still carrying his bag.
"Jesus, this is killing me..." Joseph said, lifting his leg in the hopes that, with less blood flowing through it, the injury would ache less.
Tariq stood close to him.
"Is it hurting? More than yesterday?"
"Much more… I think I overdid it, running high and low across the cemetery."
From the entrance patio, the crosses and tombstones of the outer wards of the old graveyard were already quite visible. The crows, already fed by the prince this time, had found their perch in the bare lindens, and from that distance, they were like loud and restless black masses of foliage.
The snowfall had calmed a bit, and some which had fallen during the night was already melting with the midday sun. The white carpet of that morning had become just a few pillows of snow spread across the expanse of the cemetery.
The pain wasn't only the result of the extra exercise. They were in the heart of winter, Joseph had had low quality sleep and not much of it, and he’d barely eaten. The chocolate pie had been delicious, but it was hardly a nutritious option for breakfast.
In addition to that...the image of the dead boys and that murderous demon invaded even his nightmares, insisting on roaming around inside his mind. Suddenly, his eyelids grew heavy.
Everything around him darkened.
*A cloud?*
There were so many questions...
The sun bathing the top of his head and his shoulders was so soothing...
They were so far from his home...
Why hadn’t they taken one of those carriages?
The bench would’ve fit him perfectly...
"Hey, Doctor! Wake up!"
Joseph’s disorientation dissolved with the prince shaking his shoulder.
"Eh?" Joseph rubbed his eyes.
"You were dozing off."
"Oh. I apologise."
Tariq took his crutches, hanging them on his shoulder. Then he sat right beside the doctor.
"Put your arms around my neck."
"EEEEEEhhh?" Suddenly, all the drowsiness was gone.
The prince laughed.
"Come on."
Joseph shrugged, shaking his head. He hesitantly opened his arms, first groping along, awkwardly trying to accommodate his splinted arm, then embracing Tariq.
He felt a flutter in his stomach when all of a sudden the prince lifted him into his arms. Joseph saw his legs dangling, and he went pale.
"W-Wait, p-please, let me down."
"Your foot is useless. At your pace, it’ll already be Monday by the time we reach your house.”
"I'm too heavy..."
Tariq laughed.
"No, you're not."
"You'll drop me."
The prince smirked, and his golden eyes pierced right into Joseph's.
"I won't."
The doctor trembled. Tariq looked at him silently. With the arm that was around his back, he pulled the blonde boy up, bringing their faces closer together.
Their noses were nearly touching. That burning sensation ran across Joseph’s cheeks and chest again.
He realised he wouldn't be able to pull himself from Tariq's embrace, no matter how much he struggled. How could he forget...that his arms were like iron?
As the prince began to talk, his voice came out calm and incisive, as if, indeed, he hadn’t been carrying anything heavier than a pile of blankets.
*You are safe, Doctor...*
The prince had said that not too long ago, when he rescued Joseph from the assault at the crossroads. And it was like that again, right now; this was, indeed, the safest place in the world to be.
Tariq seemed to notice that Joseph was feeling more relaxed and started to walk towards the lindens where the crows rested, entering the cemetery.
Joseph felt the winter breeze kissing his face, tousling his hair and making it flow like a golden curtain, appearing here and there out of the corner of his eye.
The crosses, angels, and headstones passed by him fast, as a sequence of blots, all covered in a thin layer of snow and sludge.
The college grounds were left long behind, and they were deep inside the sea of sepulchres again. But instead of the stage where a scene of fear and terror had been played out the night before, now the doctor was surrounded by a wave of isolation and peace.
There was only the two of them, witnessed solely by the crows, the trees, and the spirits of the deceased.
It was a heavenly sensation… To be in a place where there was no one to judge him or demand anything, save, perhaps, a few grains of corn or a couple of prayers.
The prince cradled him like a swing in a garden… Like the arms of a mother...
Not HIS mother, of course… More like “The Mother”, the archetype of all mothers… The First One, who could embrace the whole world.
The same mother who received all the dead into her womb again, for a final lullaby.
*Mother Earth?*
It was terrifying and delightful at the same time, to feel so vulnerable again.
When was the last time his parents really...*took care* of him? Maybe when he was 5 or 6 years old?
He was the third of seven children, and he soon had to learn how to take care of his own needs, becoming just the “third child”, the “molly son”… Just a number for his father to brag about his virility.
They passed by a huge mausoleum, where Joseph could hastily read seven names engraved into a larger board.
It was the memorial of an entire family.
Bursting from his heart, as destructive as a horde of Huns consuming Rome in fire and blood from within, a thought made itself heard.
*What if I were amongst the dead...in one of those tombs…?*
*Would my family even care?*
*Would I be just a memory in a family gathering?*
*Would they feel relief, for their emasculated calf was finally gone?*
When his chest tightened and the landscape became blurry, he knew the tears were about to fall. Something grew inside him, like smoke on a bonfire: a feeling like he was saying goodbye, parting ways with a piece of himself...
*My God, what is this?*
Joseph started to tremble from his head to his toes, feeling like he was falling into a dark, bottomless pit. When he reflexively tried to hold the prince tighter, he ended up knocking his head into his chin. The prince looked at him, frowning when he saw the doctor's eyes were all watery.
"Ah, ah... I'm sorry,” Joseph said.
"Are you alright?"
"Y-Yes..."
"Why are you crying?"
"I'm...I'm not. I j-just...had an ominous feeling."
Tariq kept staring at him with pity all over his face. Then he gently let him down, holding Joseph around his waist as his feet touched the ground.
The doctor noticed that they were standing right in front of a orthodox cross, around 3 metres in height. There was no figure of Jesus engraved in it, only an "O" at the top, an "IC" on the cross’s right arm, and an "XC" on its left.
"Exc-cuse me, my prince, but...how are we supposed to find a coach here?"
"We don't have to."
Tariq was staring right at the centre of the cross, not even blinking. Joseph noticed the fingers of his right hand forming that same symbol again, like the saints and angels in paintings and images did, with the index and middle fingers up, the thumb at their base, and the ring and little finger down.
"Stay behind me."
There was no objection. The doctor nodded and put himself in the shadow of the prince, wondering to himself if he really wanted to see what the prince was about to do.
*But no matter what it is, I'll stay here this time.*
The prince raised his right hand, pointing to the centre of the cross.
"Tallulah."
His voice went out strong and solemn, with a graver tone.
"Tallulah".
*Just like when he called Mabel...*
"Tallulah".
Joseph swallowed, holding onto Tariq's cape.
A black blotch emerged from inside the cross, getting larger and larger. It took the shape of a horse’s head, a huge one, its hair black with a burgundy mane and luminescent red eyes made of pure fire.
The horse continued to emerge from the cross, as if it had been a sort of cage. First its front legs, then the torso, then the whole body appeared, ready to ride.
Neighing and snorting, the black creature, too large for even a war horse, rested its eyes on Joseph. It seemed to frown, stomping its hooves on the ground and showing the doctor all of its sharp canine teeth.
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