The Betrayals(22)

I was too fed up to write yesterday, but I suppose I should explain – if only for when this is consulted for my biography (working title: Léonard Martin: the Life and Times of the Youngest Magister Ludi).

So. Yesterday. After meditation I went to the library – I’ve been looking at the Oxford, Paul said the other day that it ‘reeks of histrionic Christ-worship’ but it seems OK to me – and stayed there until dinner time. I was crossing the courtyard to the refectory when I saw Emile and Dupont coming out of the classroom wing. Emile called my name and beckoned me over. ‘Have you seen?’ he said. ‘Did it come as a shock?’

I said, ‘Seen what?’

They exchanged a look. A smirk, I should say. Dupont jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘It’s on the noticeboard,’ he said.

‘What?’ It was too early for the first week’s marks to be out. ‘Have I – has someone been kicked out?’ I had a tiny moment of panic in case the school had found out about some of the stuff I did over the summer. I’ve never heard of anyone being sacked for lack of chastity off the premises, but technically bringing the school into disrepute is a sackable offence.

‘Don’t worry, dear boy,’ Emile said, ‘it’s nothing like that.’ He swapped another glance with Dupont and tittered.

I didn’t pause long enough to give him a dirty look. I walked with speed but dignity into the scholars’ wing and broke into a run as soon as I was out of sight. There was a crowd in front of the noticeboard, and when I got there Felix turned round. He was grinning, but when he saw me his face changed and he looked at me like a vet who was about to shoot my dog. ‘What’s up?’ I said. ‘Has something happened?’ My only thought by then was that the government had fallen, or something like that, but there was something too personal in the way Felix was attempting a sympathetic expression.

‘Have a look,’ he said, and pushed someone aside so I could get close enough to see.

Second-Year Pairings for Joint Games. The first time I read it, it didn’t make sense; then it did. I felt my heart start to thud as I read down the list, until I got to my name. But I’d known what it would say from the moment I saw the title, written out in Magister Holt’s neat block capitals and underlined in red.

LéONARD MARTIN & AIMé CARFAX DE COURCY.

Someone said, ‘But – they’ve never assigned partners before! I was supposed to be with Mirabeau …’

I couldn’t speak. I stared at the list. Most people had been averaged out – Felix was with Paul, Emile was with Jacob – which meant it was even worse that Carfax and I had been put together.

Felix said, ‘At least you two will be top of the class. You’ll walk it.’

I didn’t deign to answer that. I would rather be with anyone – anyone, Felix and Jacob included – than Carfax. And I may sound self-absorbed, but this whole thing is clearly about me (well, us). Magister Holt has got some kind of bee in his bonnet about our ‘unfriendly rivalry’ and thinks this is a good way to make us work together. Damn him. I can’t even go to the Magister Scholarium, because I know what he’d say: you’re here to learn, trust the Magister Ludi, put aside personal differences, the game is after all an act of worship, blah blah blah.

At dinner it was all anyone could talk about. Everyone was sympathising with me, which should have made me feel a bit better – at least no one else likes Carfax, either – but didn’t. And Carfax was nowhere to be seen.

It’s hard enough to write a joint game at all, but with someone you can’t bloody stand—

Later

Well, that was perfect timing.

As I was writing that last sentence there was a knock at the door. When I opened it Carfax was standing there. He sort of blenched when he saw me, as if he thought I was going to hit him. Apparently he thinks I’m a psychopath as well as an idiot.

He said, ‘Have you seen the notice about joint games?’

I said, ‘Yes.’

‘Right.’

I started to close the door. He said, ‘Is there any chance we can talk about this like grown-ups?’

‘What do you want to talk about?’

‘Well – what sort of game we want to play. How we want to work together.’ He pushed the door further open so that I had to step backwards. ‘Look … let’s make this as easy as possible, all right? Let’s write the game and move on.’

I didn’t want to agree with him but in fact he was right. ‘Fine.’

‘We don’t have to be friends.’

‘Just as well,’ I said. ‘You don’t have friends, do you, Carfax? You only have inferiors and enemies.’

‘At least we’re not enemies, then.’ He gave me that look, as if he’s inside my head and faintly amused by what he can see.

‘Very fucking funny,’ I said, and shut the door on him. This time he didn’t stop me, but a second later he knocked again. I didn’t open up. ‘Go away.’

‘We’ve got a free class tomorrow after Historiae. Come to my room and we can talk through some ideas.’

‘Your ideas?’

‘Any ideas.’ I heard him add something obscene under his breath. ‘Do you have a better plan?’

‘Yes,’ I said, still without opening the door. ‘Let’s do this by correspondence. Write it all down and put it in my pigeonhole. I’ll do the same for you. That way we never even have to speak to each other.’