26. The Dawn of a New Time

Tariq frowned, staring at Dvorák's red cheeks; his eyes were glued to the prince, waiting for an answer.

Tariq burst out laughing.

“Hahahahahaha!”

He covered his mouth when he saw a few curious gazes already on him. Honza's eyes widened as he uncrossed his arms and glanced at Matej and Krk.

"What is so funny, you bloody n*gger?"

"Your idiocy. It's hilarious." The prince walked forward, knocking his shoulder into Honza's and clearing his path to the 7th level of the classroom. By then, there were hardly any other boys around.

"Answer me! Where is he?"

Tariq turned his head back to him with a flourish.

Then, he patted his own crotch, groping at his member.

"He's right here. Come and get him."

Dvorák went pale, his jaw dropping like a stone, as Matej and Krk held in their laughter behind his back.

***

Mid-morning was bright and fresh over the red bricks of the chapel, chasing away the snow that had assailed the campus throughout the night.

"Here, Joseph."

The young doctor took the crutches that Reverend Weber offered. His eyes felt heavy and sticky after having so little sleep.

"Thank you so much, Reverend."

The man watched him as the boy lowered his eyes, lost in thought as he looked at his injured foot.

"Where are the ones I gave you yesterday?"

Joseph kept looking down with a frown.

*If I say Dvorák and his friends ruined them, I'll sound like a weakling, putting the blame on other people… Besides, it's not like the reverend could do anything. I'm just a foreign felon up against the son of the dean and magistrate of the town.*

“Ever since you began your studies here, you’re hurt nearly all the time. First, there were those bruises from the paddle, but now it's a broken hand, a foot… Is someone abusing you?”

The boy looked up at him, swallowing.

He opened his trembling mouth, only to lower his head again in silence.

"Listen, Joseph... I can't help you if you don't tell me what’s going on."

*I appreciate it, Reverend, but you wouldn't be able to do anything anyway.*

Mrs. Weber, the nurse, was there as well, leaning against a drawer. She stared at her husband.

"Let him be. He'll talk when he's ready. Right, dear?" The woman placed her hand on Joseph's head, caressing his hair.

Joseph smiled and nodded.

"Yes."

*Thank you, Mrs. Weber.*

The clergyman sighed, bending over to grab the boy's backpack.

"May God protect you, child."

***

It was past 10:30 AM, and the break was over. The patio was empty, save for a few dry fallen leaves, some robins eating crumbs here and there, and an overseer who stared at Joseph as if he was some abyssal apparition.

The lad dragged himself forward at the pace of a snail, fighting hard to balance his weight across the crutches as he carried his shoulder bag. His broken arm made it extra hard to use the second crutch. He was basically just holding it with his armpit.

"Now I know how an injured war veteran must feel. Jesus Christ! At least none of those assholes are on the patio..."

After what felt like ages, he reached the Latin and Classic Literature classroom.

"Ex-Exc-cuse me..."

All eyes were already on him before he could even cross the threshold. He stood there for a moment, flustered because he wasn't able to find his charge, Prince Tariq, at any of the front desks. Professor Wagner was already standing, holding a book with a red leather cover as he gave his lecture. The man stared at Joseph, his huge eyebrows escaping over the top of his round glasses.

Something hit Joseph in the face. A ball of paper.

"Hey, Selden! Get out of the way, you maimed son of a bitch!" As Dvorák shouted, Matej, Krk, and some of the other boys began to laugh.

Joseph lowered his head, praying to just disappear or fall into a hole. Since he couldn't find Tariq, he looked for the closest empty desk, only to realise there were none. Honza stood up, leaning on his desk with one hand as he pointed at Joseph with the other.

"Have you finally accepted yourself as the disgusting tramp you always were? You're wearing the same clothes as yesterday and you smell like shit..."

The other boys kept laughing and throwing paper balls at him. He gave up on searching for the prince.

*He must still be angry at me.*

Indeed, he hadn't bathed or changed clothes since the incident the day before. Running through the cemetery and the old church had covered his clothes in mud and dust.

His legs shook. More than anything, he hated being the centre of attention; now, it was like he was a convicted criminal in a public arena, with the crowds demanding for him to be hanged.

"I'll tell my father to exp-"

SWOOOSH!

A book flew down from one of the highest levels of the class, landing on Dvorák's head loudly and making him lose his balance. Matej and Krk caught him, keeping the dean’s son from slamming into the desk in front of him.

Joseph finally was able to spot Tariq. The prince approached Honza's desk with a murderous fire in his wide eyes, like a giant who’d been disturbed from a 100-year slumber seeking his harasser.

"Hey, hey! It's fine. It's fine. Please go back to your seat, Your Highness." Professor Wagner placed a hand on Tariq's chest, gently pushing him back. The prince was already reaching out his arm to grab Honza's hair.

"Oh, so you like him, gypsy prince?” Honza said with a laugh.

"Silence,” the professor said, turning back to the son of the dean, now pointing a paddle at him.

"Who do you think you are, you-"

SLAAAM!

Honza recoiled, the paddle almost hitting his hands when Professor Wagner slammed it onto his desk.

"I told you to SHUT YOUR BLOODY MOUTH, YOU FIEND! DO YOU NEED ME TO DRAW YOU A DIAGRAM?!"

"N-no, Professor."

"Good. All of you get back to your places." The professor fixed his cravat and approached Joseph.

"Please, Dr. Selden, take a seat at my desk."

The boy gulped, paralysed.

“P-Professor...are...y-you s-sure?”

The older man smiled ear-to-ear, a completely different person from just a few moments ago.

"Of course, lad. No need to be shy. Let's alleviate this burden of yours, shall we?" The man took Joseph's bag, resting it beside the desk.

The boy held back a smile. The sunlight bathed the classroom in warm light, painting the desks and baseboards in orange and cherry tones. One step at a time, Joseph reached the professor's chair. It was tall and cushioned, with a solid arched backrest, engraved with laurel leaf details.

Joseph’s sore muscles seemed to melt into the chair when he sat down. It was so soft! Like a throne...

*Isn't a professor technically the king of his class?*

While Professor Wagner resumed his lecture at the pulpit with his back to him, Joseph stared into the class.

*So this is the perspective of a professor, huh?*

He began to daydream, visualising himself in the role of an academic, sharing his knowledge with youngsters like himself. Sharing the work and dreams of so many others who came before him...

*Would I enjoy it?*

In less than a second, Joseph felt himself in a sort of waking dream. He felt as if he was not just imagining himself as a professor, but that he was, indeed, one... Someday, somewhere. He was an actor playing a character, and suddenly the character was revealed to be him. A memory of something he had never lived.

*Is this...déjà-vu?*

He trembled when a voice inside him whispered, telling him it was more like a premonition.

The boy shook his head, and his eyes met Tariq's.

He was staring at Joseph from the 8th level, bent over his desk. Smiling.

Joseph felt his face heat up, that pleasant warmth running through his cheeks and down his chest.

He lowered his head to hide his red face and also his own smile.

*Has he forgiven me?*

He had reached his lowest point since he arrived in Bohemia. He had seen Wickedness embodied the night before.

But the heir of the land protected him that morning. And so had the ruler of the class.

The light entering the room became brighter as midday approached, revealing dancing particles of dust that looked like stars.

A playful breeze reached the desk through the partially open window, caressing the petals of the white chrysanthemums from when he met Rainier, still hanging from his bag.

*********

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