portions of CHAPTER TWO
The next day I stay in my rooms. Haziel, my servant, keeps checking on me, plying me with treats that I can not bear to look at, let alone eat.
"Will the day never end? The sun is about to set, but I do not care. Will I ever be able to leave my rooms?" I sigh on the thought.
“You missed your studies today, Josias. Are you not well?” Grandfather Basilicos says as he strides into my room.
“No, Grandfather, I am sorry. I just don’t… I can’t...” I founder.
“What happened?” He demand.
“Nothing. No, really nothing.” I go to the window.
“Hello, Josias!” Bellows my brother, Balthazar from the courtyard below. I step back quickly. Too late - he has seen me.
“I’ve got something for you! Jo-o-si-ass! Come and get it! I know you want it!”
I sink to the window seat as Grandfather leans out to see what Balthazar is holding. He turns his head to look at me, a question in his eyes. “A chicken? Why do you want a chicken?”
I shake my head.
“Jo-o-si—ASS! It’s a chicken, Josias. Just like you said you wanted last night!”
Grandfather turns back to the window.
“Balthazar, whatever prank you are pulling, stop it now! You have done enough.”
“Did he tell you? Huh? He doesn’t like women. His horn is too small! He prefers chickens!” He throws the bird in the air and walks away cackling as loud as the poor hen.
Grandfather sinks onto the seat beside me.
“So, this is why you don’t want to leave your rooms? What happened?”
“He caught me after Father let us leave the Hall last night. He wanted to go into town and find some virgins. I said I did not want to go. He made fun of me, then left.”
“Made fun of you.” Grandfather broods. “What did he say? Or do?”
“It doesn’t matter Grandfather. Look. Just… I don’t … please. Let it go!”
He studies me for a moment or two. I start to stand, but he catches my wrist gently and raises my sleeve, revealing the bruises from Balthazar’s malicious grip.
“Are these the only bruises?” I shake my head. “You will tell me what happened, Josias!”
I drop back onto the window seat, wrapping my arms around my knees as I pull them to my chest, and wince. I change position. With amazing detachment, I tell him what had happened the night before. The details are etched in my mind. I omit nothing. When done, I drop my head onto my knees, my face burning with shame.
Gradually I become aware of a tremble in Grandfather’s arm where it touches mine. I peer up at him through a lock of hair. His jaw is clenched, his lips thinned to nothing, his face white, blotched with spots of red across his cheeks, nose, and chin.
“This has got to stop!” He surges to his feet and strides to the door. Turning, he says curtly. “Come to my rooms tomorrow morning early, the earlier, the better!”
I nod without looking up. His anger terrifies me.
"Are you angry because I’m such a coward or because I was too weak to defend myself? I wish I could defend myself to you right now, but anything I say sounds childish, cowardly or just an excuse."
I feel a tear run down my cheek and bury my head further into my arms.
"Ye gods! If you see tears you might just finish the job Balthazar started!"
The rustle of fabric warns me that he’s returned to stand over me.
“Josias,” gently as he lays a hand on my shoulder. I flinch, expecting a blow. He tightens his grip, but only slightly, enough to stop me pulling away.
“First of all, I’m not angry with you. Josias you are not a coward. Nor are you a weakling. Balthazar is four years older than you and well developed as a warrior.”
I look up at him in surprise.“Did you read my thoughts?”
“Yes, I did, though I did not need to as the truth is obvious.” He sits beside me again. “Too often we forget that you are so young. Your knowledge and demeanor are so advanced that we forget you are but a lad still.
Do not be ashamed about the size of your manly member. You will mature and grow, and it will grow with you. There will – there may - come a time when you want the physical contact with women that has Balthazar behaving as he does.
But that is for later.” He rubbed his big hand over my back, then gave me a pat.
“As I said, come to my rooms tomorrow. Until then, take courage. Things are about to change for you.”
***
I enter the room Grandfather had set aside for my training. A strange looking man stands beside Grandfather.
“Good morning, Josias,” Grandfather says as he turns to the man and bows deeply, yet keeping his face turned up to him. The man returns the bow.
“Sifu, this is my Grandson, Josias, about whom I have spoken.” Turning back to me, “Josias this is Sifu Cheng Hee, Grandson of Cheng Sherong, who joined my father, Balthazar on the journey to see the baby Jesus.”
I bow as I had seen Grandfather do, hoping this was correct.
“I am greatly honored to meet you, Sifu Cheng Hee.”
“Sifu is my title,”Cheng Hee, says as he returns my bow. “It is what you call me.”
“Sifu means ‘teacher’ or ‘mentor.’ Cheng Hee is skilled in the Chinese Art of defense and offense, and I have asked him to be your Sifu.”
“My Sifu? You will train me in these Chinese ways?” He dips his head in a short, sharp nod. I bow again, more fervently now. “Thank you, Sifu Cheng Hee!”
Cheng Hee turns to face the room, which is now bare except for one very large mat in the center.
***
The instruction Sifu Cheng Hee gave me created a whole new world of thought and control. It was exhilarating, filling me with confidence and with the sure knowledge that, should he ever try anything again, Balthazar
ould be in for a big surprise.
***
Little had changed where Balthazar was concerned. Every chance he got he attacked in word and deed. And yet he contrived to be on his best behavior when Father was present. And he was all sweetness and light around
mother; charming and dazzling her with words. Little did she know that he was being sarcastic. That he had nothing but contempt for her – for all women – and that he was making fun of her with his honey-coated compliments.
I still avoided Balthazar as often as I could. There were a few of the cousins who had begun to side with me. Enough, that if we were all together, he curbed his attacks to verbal diatribes.
***
It‘s late autumn. I’ve just celebrated my seventeenth birthday. Balthazar is already twenty and should have been with Father attending to city business, but he dodges his duty as often as he can.
One day he catches me in the central courtyard of the Palace. There are still a few people about, but I’m walking alone when he discovers me.
“Well, well, how’s the little Chicken Lover today?” He says loudly, making sure those in the courtyard are paying attention.
“Hello, Balthazar,” I said, conversationally, continuing to walk.
“Not so fast Little Brother,” he says, stepping in front of me, arms folded over his massive chest. He pointedly looks me up and down. “You’ve done some growing of late! You are taller than me now. But you are
still scrawny. Let’s see what your horn looks like. Has it grown any bigger? Are you ready for a donkey yet?”
He reaches for my robe. I knock his hand away.
He reaches again. Again, I knock his hand away.
The third time he reaches out, I grab his wrist in a vise-like grip, twisting it away and down. He yelps, attempting to pull away from me. I don’t release him. For the first time he actually looks at me – at my face.
His eyes grow round as his face blanches. I can feel the fear run through his body - smell it in his sweat. I drop his wrist.
“So. You think you can take me?” He attempts to force bravado with his sneer, as he rubs his injured elbow. His eyes flicker, telegraphing his thought even before the muscles tense. As he throw a punch, I swat it away as
if its no more than a pesky fly. He curses.
I step back to give him a chance to end it.
He draws both his arms back against his ribs, palms turned up, fingers curled over them, his intention clear: a one-two series of bone-crushing blows, sure to maim, if not kill me.
I side-step as his fist whizzes by with him following.
I move back two paces.
He recovers quickly and follows, now an angry bull, bellowing curses, and threats of death.
I step aside, and he roars past, his odor lingering unpleasantly in my nostrils.
I wait.
He charges again.
Again, I step aside. My face, which had been set in a grim mask, suddenly breaks into a grin.
"It'd be so easy just to trip you as you charge! But that's too easy and easily explained as an ‘accident’. Besides, it would end the fun too soon!"
On his fourth charge, I crouch and spin in a low circle, sweeping his feet out from under him. He ducks and rolls as he hits the ground and comes up spitting more hatred. He doesn’t charge again, but stands, panting,
studying me.
“What’s this, Chicken Lover? You learn something new? Think you can beat me, do you?” He begins to circle me. I don’t follow him, letting him come back to face me. With steady eyes, I meet his.
“The question rather is, do you think you can beat me?”
In slow motion, I turn my left shoulder toward him, balancing my wait on my left leg. He snickers as I raise my right knee, holding the pose, waiting for his response.
He cackles as he swaggers around me looking me up and down.
“A chicken? Naw! A Banty Rooster, acting like a grown cock! Ha! Ha!”
As he circles out of my line of site, he charges, fists held high, ready to drive into my lower back and neck, leaving his midriff exposed.
I swing toward him, snapping out my knee, the heel of my foot embedding itself in his abdomen. As my foot drops to the ground, I swung around with my left foot, hitting him on the chin with the heel of my other foot.
He falls hard.
“Josias, ye gods! How did you do that? Did you kill him?” Marzban cries as he runs up to me, Arshad and Farbod following close behind. Arshad kneels beside Balthazar.
“No, he’s beginning to stir.”
I look down at Balthazar, waiting until he has come around enough to see and hear me.
“That’s it for now, Balthazar. But there is plenty more, should you wish to try again!” I salute him.
Farbod grabs my arm. “Come on! Let’s get out of here before he gets up!” I let him pull me along to join the others, too absolutely pleased with myself to care about anything.
E. Alan Webb1910 - 1983
