iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第20章

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being　punished。〃
　Taft　pauses；　letting　the　audience　chew　on　this　for　a　moment。
　〃What　we　are　beginning　to　read；　then；〃　he　begins　again；　〃is　the　vocabulary　of　cruelty。　Despite　what　many　of　you　may　think；　it　is　not　a　purely　barbaric　language。　Like　all　of　our　rituals；　it　is　rich　with　meaning。　You　must　simply　learn　to　read　it。　I　will　therefore　offer　one　additional　piece　of　information；　which　you　may　use　in　interpreting　the　image…then　I　will　pose　a　question；　and　leave　the　rest　to　you。
　〃Your　final　clue　is　a　fact　that　many　of　you　probably　know；　but　have　overlooked：　namely；　that　we　can　tell　Polia　has　misidentified　the　child；　simply　by　noting　the　weapon　the　child　is　carrying。　For　if　the　little　boy　in　the　nightmare　had　truly　been　Cupid；　as　Polia　claims；　then　his　weapon　would　not　have　been　the　sword。　It　would　have　been　the　bow　and　arrow。〃
　There　are　murmurs　of　assent　in　the　crowd；　hundreds　of　students　seeing　Valentine's　Day　in　an　entirely　new　light。
　〃Therefore　I　ask　you：　who　is　this　child　that　brandishes　a　sword；　forces　women　to　draw　his　war　chariot　through　a　difficult　forest；　then　slaughters　them　as　if　they　were　guilty　of　treason？〃
　He　waits；　as　if　preparing　to　deliver　the　answer；　but　instead　says；　〃Solve　this；　and　you　will　begin　to　understand　the　hidden　truth　of　the　Hypnerotomachia。　Perhaps　you　will　also　begin　to　understand　the　significance　not　only　of　death；　but　of　the　form　death　takes　when　it　es。　All　of　us…we　of　faith　and　we　who　lack　it…are　too　accustomed　to　the　sign　of　the　cross　to　understand　the　significance　of　the　crucifix。　But　religion；　Christianity　in　particular；　has　always　been　the　story　of　death　in　the　midst　of　life；　of　sacrifices　and　martyrs。　Tonight；　of　all　nights；　as　we　memorate　the　sacrifice　of　the　most　famous　of　those　martyrs；　it　is　a　fact　we　should　be　loath　to　forget。〃
　Removing　his　glasses；　and　folding　them　into　his　breast　pocket；　Taft　tips　his　head　and　says；　〃I　entrust　you　with　this；　and　place　my　faith　in　you。〃　With　a　plodding　step　back；　he　adds；　〃Thank　you　all；　and　good　night。〃
　　
　Applause　erupts　from　every　corner　of　the　hall…at　first　awkwardly；　but　soon　to　a　heavy　crescendo。　Despite　the　earlier　interruption；　the　audience　has　been　seduced　by　this　strange　man；　mesmerized　by　his　fusion　of　intellect　and　gore。
　Taft　nods　his　head　and　shuffles　toward　the　table　by　the　podium；　meaning　to　sit　down；　but　the　applause　continues。　Some　in　the　audience　take　to　their　feet；　continuing　to　clap。
　〃Thank　you；〃　he　says　again；　still　standing；　hands　pressed　atop　the　back　of　his　chair。　Even　as　he　speaks；　the　old　smile　returns　to　his　features。　It's　as　if　he　has　been　watching　the　audience　all　along；　never　the　other　way　around。
　Professor　Henderson　rises　and　strides　toward　the　lectern；　silencing　the　applause。
　〃By　tradition；〃　she　says；　〃we　will　be　offering　refreshments　this　evening　in　the　courtyard　between　this　auditorium　and　the　chapel。　I　understand　that　the　maintenance　and　ground　crews　have　set　up　a　number　of　space　heaters　beneath　the　tables。　Please　e　out　to　join　us。〃
　Turning　to　Taft；　she　adds；　〃That　said；　let　me　thank　Dr。　Taft　for　such　a　memorable　lecture。　You　certainly　made　quite　an　impression。〃　She　smiles；　but　with　a　certain　restraint。
　The　audience　applauds　again；　then　slowly　begins　to　filter　through　the　exit。
　Taft　watches　it　do　so；　and　I　in　turn　watch　him。　This　is　one　of　the　few　times　I　have　ever　seen　the　man；　recluse　that　he　is。　Now　I　finally　understand　why　Paul　finds　him　so　magnetic。　Even　when　you　know　he's　making　a　game　of　you；　it's　almost　impossible　to　take　your　eyes　off　him。
　Slowly　Taft　begins　to　hulk　across　the　stage。　As　the　white　screen　mechanically　retracts　into　a　slot　in　the　ceiling；　the　three　slides　bee　a　whisper　of　gray　over　the　blackboards　beyond。　I　can　barely　make　out　the　wild　animals　devouring　the　women's　remains；　the　child　floating　off　into　the　air。
　〃You　ing？〃　Charlie　asks；　lingering　behind　Gil　by　the　exit。
　I　hurry　after　them。
　
　Chapter　11
　
　〃You　couldn't　find　Paul？〃　Charlie　asks　once　I've　caught　up。
　〃He　didn't　want　my　help。〃
　But　when　I　mention　what　I　overheard　outside；　Charlie　looks　at　me　as　if　I　shouldn't　have　let　him　go。　Someone　stops　beside　us　to　greet　Gil；　and　Charlie　turns　to　me。
　〃Did　Paul　go　after　Curry？〃　he　asks。
　I　shake　my　head。　〃Bill　Stein。〃
　〃Are　you　guys　ing　to　the　reception？〃　Gil　calls　out；　sensing　a　quick　getaway。　〃We　could　use　the　turnout。〃
　〃Sure；〃　I　say；　and　Gil　seems　pacified。　His　mind　is　elsewhere；　we're　returning　to　his　element。
　〃We'll　have　to　avoid　Jack　Parlow　and　Kelly…they　only　want　to　talk　about　the　ball；〃　he　says；　returning　to　our　sides。　〃But　it　shouldn't　be　bad。〃
　He　leads　us　down　the　steps　into　the　pale　blue　courtyard；　where　all　the　tracks　Curry　and　Paul　made　in　the　snow　have　blown　over。　The　tents　are　brimming　with　students；　and　almost　immediately　I　remember　how　futile　it　is　trying　to　avoid　anyone　with　Gil　around。　We　march　through　the　snow　to　a　canopy　almost　beneath　the　chapel；　but　he　exerts　an　inescapable　social　gravity。
　First　to　e　is　the　blond　girl　from　the　door。
　〃Tara；　how　are　you？〃　Gil　says　graciously　when　she　arrives　beneath　the　canvas　roof。　〃A　lot　more　excitement　than　you　were　expecting；　huh？〃
　Charlie　has　no　interest　in　her　pany。　To　avoid　a　scene；　he　concerns　himself　at　the　table；　where　the　silver　dispensers　are　warming　fresh　hot　chocolate。
　〃Tara；〃　Gil　says；　〃you　know　Tom；　don't　you？〃
　She　finds　a　polite　way　of　saying　she　doesn't。
　〃Ah；　well；〃　Gil　says　lightly。　〃Different　classes。〃
　It　takes　me　a　second　to　realize　he's　referring　to　sophomores　and　seniors。
　〃Tom；　this　is　Tara　Pierson；　a　member　of　the　2001　section；〃　he　continues；　seeing　that　Charlie　is　avoiding　us。　〃Tara；　this　is　my　good　friend　Tom　Sullivan。〃
　The　introduction　serves　only　to　embarrass。　No　sooner　has　Gil　finished　speaking　than　Tara　finds　a　moment　when　we　can　talk　out　of　his　sight　and　points　at　Charlie。
　〃I'm　so　sorry　about　what　I　said　to　your　friend　back　there；〃　she　begins。　〃I　had　no　idea　who　you　guys　were。　。　。　。〃
　And　on；　and　on。　Her　point　seems　to　be　that　we　deserve　better　treatment　than　the　other　nobodies　she's　never　met　because　Gil　and　I　brush　our　teeth　over　the　same　sink。　The　longer　she　talks；　the　more　I　wonder　how　she　wasn't　laughed　out　of　Ivy。　There　is　a　legend…true　or　not；　I　don't　know…that　sophomores　like　Tara；　who　have　nothing　to　remend　them　but　their　looks；　sometimes　find　their　way　into　the　membership　thanks　to　a　special　process　called　〃third…floor　bicker。〃　They're　invited　up　to　the　secretive　third　floor　of　the　club　and　told　that　they　won't　be　admitted　without　some　special　show　of　willingness。　I　can　only　guess　at　the　exact　nature　of　the　deed；　and　Gil；　of　course；　denies　that　anything　like　this　process　even　exists。　But　I　suppose　that's　the　magic　of　a　myth　like　third…floor　bicker：　the　more　unspoken　it's　left；　the　more　unspeakable　it　bees。
　Tara　must　guess　what　I'm　thinking；　or　maybe　she　just　notices　I'm　not　paying　attention　anymore；　because　she　finally　es　up　with　some　excuse　and　minces　off　into　the　snow。　Good　riddance；　I　think；　watching　her　slink　over　to　another　tent；　hair　flopping　in　the　wind。
　I　spot　Katie。　She's　standing　by　the　outer　edge　of　the　tent　on　the　opposite　side；　tired　of　talking。　The　cup　of　hot　chocolate　in　her　hand　is　still　steaming；　and　her　camera　is　strung　around　her　neck　like　a　charm。　It　takes　me　a　second　to　figure　out　what　she's　looking　at。　A　few　months　ago；　I　would've　suspected　the　worst；　searching　for　the　elusive　other　man　in　her　life；　the　one　who　found　time　for　her　when　I　spent　nights　with　the　Hypnerotomachia。　Now　I　know　better。　It's　just　the　chapel　she's　fixed　in　her　sights。　It　looms　like　a　cliff　at　the　edge　of　a　white　sea；　a　photographer's　dream。
　There's　a　curious　thing　about　attraction；　something　I'm　only　starting　to　learn。　The　first　time　I　met　Katie；　I　thought　one　look　at　her　would　stop　traffic。　Not　everyone　agreed　with　me　（Charlie；　preferring　meatier　women；　liked　Katie's　determination　more　than　her　looks）；　but　I　was　smitten。　We　dressed　up　for　each　other…our　best　clothes；　our　best　manners；　our　best　stories…until　I　came　to　the　conclusion　that　it　must　be　my　two　years　of　seniority　and　my　friendship　with　the　president　of　her　eating　club　that　lent　me　what　small　mystique　I　had；　holding　on　to　such　a　catch。　In　those　days　the　idea　of　touching　her　hand　or　smelling　her　hair　was　enough　to　send　me　sweating　to　a　cold　shower。　We　were　each　other's　trophies；　and　we　spent　our　days　on　pedestals。
　Since　those　early　weeks　I've　taken　her　off　the　shelf。　She's　returned　the　favor。　We　argue　because　I　keep　my　room　too　warm；　and　because　she　sleeps　with　her　window　open；　she　chides　me　for　getting　seconds　of　dessert…because　someday；　she　says；　even　men　pay　for　their　petty　transgressions。　Gil　jokes　that　I've　been　domesticated；　humoring　me　with　the　notion　that　I　used　to　be　a　wild　thing。　The　fact　is；　I　was　made　for　husbandry。　I　turn　up　my　thermostat　when　I'm　not　cold；　and　eat　dessert　when　I'm　not　hungry；　because　in　the　shadow　of　every　admonishment　from　Katie　is　the　hint　that　she　won't　tolerate　these　things　in　the　future；　because　there　will　be　a　future。　The　fantasies　I　used　to　have；　powered　by　the　electricity　of　potential　between　strangers；　are　weaker　things　now。　I　like　her　best　the　way　she　is　in　this　courtyard。
　Her　eyes　are　tensed；　the　sign　that　a　long　day　is　drawing　to　a　close。　Her　hair　is　down；　and　the　gusts　are　playing　in　the　loops　of　it　by　her　shoulder。　It　wouldn't　bother　me　just　to　keep　watching　from　afar；　soaking　her　in。　But　when　I　step　forward；　decreasing　our　distance；　she　sees　me　and　gestures　to　join　her。
　〃What　was　all　that　about？〃　she　asks。　〃Who　was　that　in　the　lecture？〃
　〃Richard　Curry。〃
　〃Curry？〃　She　takes　my　hand　and　places　it　in　hers。　Her　bottom　lip　curls　between　her　teeth。　〃Is　Paul　okay？〃
　〃I　think　so。〃
　Silence　creeps　in　for　a　moment　as　we　watch　the　crowd。　Men　in　canvas　anoraks　are　offering　their　jackets　to　underdressed　girlfriends。　Tara；　the　blonde　from　the　table；　has　witched　a　stranger　out　of　his。
　Katie　motions　back　toward　the　auditorium。　〃So　what'd　you　think？〃
　〃Of　the　lecture？〃
　She　nods；　beginning　to　fix　her　hair　in　a　bun。
　〃A　little　gory。〃　The　ogre　gets　no　pliments　from　me。
　〃But　more　interesting　than　usual；〃　she　says；　extending　her　cup　of　hot　chocolate。　〃Hold　this？〃
　She　wraps　the　back　of　her　hair　into　a　knot　and　strikes　it　through　with　two　long　pins　from　her　pocket。　The　easy　dexterity　of　her　hands；　shaping　something　she　can't　see；　reminds　me　of　the　way　my　mother　used　to　fix　my　father's　ties　while　standing　behind　him。
　〃What's　wrong？〃　she　says；　reading　my　expression。
　〃Nothing。　Just　thinking　about　Paul。〃
　〃He's　going　to　finish　on　time？〃
　The　thesis　deadline。　Even　now；　she　keeps　an　eye　on　the　Hypnerotomachia。　Tomorrow　night　she　can　lay　my　old　mistress　to　rest。
　〃I　hope。〃
　Another　silence　follows；　this　one　less　wele。　Just　as　I　try　to　think　of　something　to　change　the　subject…something　about　her　birthday；　about　the　gift　that's　waiting　for　her　back　at　the　room…bad　luck　strikes。　It　arrives　in　the　form　of　Charlie。　After　twenty　circuits　around　the　refreshment　table；　he　has　finally　decided　to　join　us。
　〃I　came　in　late；〃　he　announces。　〃Can　I　get　a　recap？〃
　Of　all　the　odd　things　about　Charlie；　the　oddest　is　how　he　can　be　a　fearless　gladiator　among　men；　but　a　blithering　clod　around　wom