3.
"A thirteen-year old girl forced to go strip-dancing in a bar!" cried out mrs. Field, "What kind of system allows that?!"
The continuation of Hyoga's adventures had been met with several degrees of outrage.
"Children, especially orphans, should by rights be among the most protected…"
"I'll say!" said Nick, "I get all kinds of social workers harassing me about my own kid. One would imagine that in orphanages, children are even more watched over. I know government institutions aren't always up to par, but surely they wouldn't let an underage kid leave just like that."
"Erm…I don't think the government had anything to do with the 'Children of the Star' orphanage. It belonged to the Graad Foundation." said Hyoga.
"Apparently, that Foundation is a law unto itself, along with Kido…hmmm, I'm sure I heard that name before." said mr. Field pensively, " Yes, of course! A Kido was chief advisor to the emperor during the War. * Possibly the same man, or someone from the same family…Japanese are big on family." He looked at his watch. "Ten-twenty. That makes it nine-twenty in England, I can still give Hoolahan a call. This Graad Foundation needs investigating."
"You are not serious!" Hyoga burst out, " After all I told you you still cannot see the danger!"
"On the contrary, I'm extremely aware of it." answered mr. Field gravely, "Recent events have shown that this state of affairs simply cannot continue. Your Gods are a threat to the peace and security of all Mankind. It's bad enough that we fight among ourselves; we don't have to be caught between the warring factions in the Greek Pantheon. Now I realise that I may not be able to do much about those Gods themselves, but I can tackle the human element in it. Graad for one, that Greek village that serves Sanctuary for another…"
"Slaves." muttered Vimi angrily, " Psyched into obedience for their entire life…"
"Precisely." said mr. Field, " And yet they are Greek citizens, subject to the Greek Constitution. They have the right of protection by their own government, not to mention basic Human Rights of which Freedom of Movement is only one, and guaranteed too by the European Community since Greece became a member state.
Anyway, for the moment we should concentrate on Graad, and those poor girls. I'm sure it is just as illegal for thirteen-year olds to perform lewd dances in Japan as it is over here, and when the public Opinion hears about the horrors the orphaned boys were involved in, I doubt if the authorities will back Graad for much longer"
"Oh, Public Opinion can be easily manipulated." said Queer, " I remember now reading about that 'Galactic Contest' last year; and how very enthusiastic people were, despite the fact that none of the contestants had reached legal majority. Little Romanian gymnasts at the Olympics are one thing, but twelve-year old gladiators… and nobody protested! If that's Public Opinion, you can keep it. Give them bread and plays, and they'll lap up anything."
"Well, there are still the international Child Welfare Organisations like UNICEF." said mrs. Field. "I'll contact the Brussels branch tomorrow morning. They should look into the goings-on of Graad, which I'm sure are all highly illicit, and take legal action."
"For my part, I'll make that call, and then one to Freddie Mountjoy. " said mr. Field, " There's bound to be a file on Graad at the Office."
"Hurrah for the 'Old Boys' Network! " cried Queer, " I love it when you go all MI6 James Bondy, Cap."
Mr Field sighed.
"How many times do I have to tell you? There is no such thing as MI6, although that is what the SIS is usually referred to in popular fiction. And I was never a James Bond."
"But you were trained to be one, to be sent off to the Far East during the war as a fake German officer to spy on the Japs." objected Queer, and quickly turned to the bewildered Hyoga to explain:
"Cap's half-German, so he refused to fight his mother's people when his number came up. But since he was born in Malaya - Grandfather ran a plantation near Kuala Lumpur - and thus spoke fluent malayan as well as german and having a smattering of japanese, he got fished up from basic training by the Special Service…"
"…and then the war ended before ever I was sent out. " said mr. Field, " My son is determined to make a hero out of me. Very gratifying to a parent, yet not remotely true. I spent my tour of duty in the Far East debriefing POW's and later in Nuremberg interpreting at the Trials: I was never even involved in the War, and I left the Service as soon as possible. Nevertheless, I do keep contact with my old friends from way back, including those who still work at the Office." ("That is in-speak for 'Secret Service'" Queer whispered into Hyoga's ear) "This said, it's ten thirty, I really have to make those phone-calls now. "
He left the room in a hurry.
"I suppose I'd better leave as well." said Nick, rising from his chair that creaked with the weight being lifted from it. Sybilla, whose cage stood right behind it, screeched.
"Parrot's disease to you, dratted bird." growled the big man, "Now then, Hyoga…" he eyed the young Russian from under his bushy eyebrows, " You've given me much to think about. I just hope that when I wake up tomorrow morning it will all turn out to be a bad dream. Still, if it doesn't…" he trailed off, then shrugged:
" Consider me in, on whatever Cap is brewing up. I used to be a happy agnostic…but I feel myself turning into a rabid atheist with your bloodthirsty Gods."
"They are not my Gods." replied Hyoga, with feeling, "I only ever served Athena, and she is not truly bloodthirsty; she does try to defend Earth against her fellows as best as she may. It's not her fault that the other side wages war all the time…" he trailed off, realising that he was taking the defence of the woman and the servitude he had so utterly and vociferously rejected earlier.
Nick raised a bushy eyebrow that disappeared up into his curly locks.
"Is that so? That's not how you told it just now. When has she ever tried diplomacy first? Of course, if you keep breeding Saints, good for nothing but fighting, a fight is what you'll get. Incidentally, did she always wait until the very last before she donned her own armour and got into action herself?"
Not waiting for an answer, he bend over Vimi, kissed her surprisingly gently for such a big man, whispering: "Take care now, love."
She merely nodded. It seemed as if the energy she had shown in indignation had been drained and spend; and she was slowly sinking back into the quagmire of depression.
Hyoga marvelled at the couple. The man, a self-confessed philanderer, was obviously in love with the girl, though she was unattractive and very ill indeed, and showed his affection openly in front of her parents, who did not seem to mind at all. This was a very strange family indeed.
"But then, what do I know of family?"
"I'll let you out, Nick." said mrs. Field.
Janiculus wagged politely as the two passed into the hall. Hyoga could hear them talking softly in a language he did not understand. He felt numb. These people were beyond his comprehension. They had taken him in, and at once his problem had become theirs. They cared.
"That is because we are nice people, Hyoga. Nice, responsible people. Caring and helping is what nice responsible people do. Saving the world in the process is just an added responsibility."
"You could all have been killed!"
"Yes, well, there are always slight drawbacks in these cases. But it turned out aright, didn't it?"
"Were you even aware of the danger?"
"Naturally, yet if Humanity had thought of the dangers, it would never have climbed out of the tree. It would never have crawled out of the water to climb into the tree! Anyway, you too faced grave peril."
"But I had nothing to lose."
"What about your life?"
Hyoga thought about his life and losing it, as he stood and waited for mrs. Field's return.
His own death was something he could very well - well, obviously not live with, but it would not bother him as such. There had been times he had wished for it. Yet the death of his five (six, if you counted the dog) wonderful new friends was just too much to contemplate.
"I'll not allow any of them to come to harm...not even the parrot! I'll die first…no, I'll LIVE for them, rather! Dying is the Saint's way. Seiya died. The Ultimate Sacrifice, and what did it avail us? Only the prospect of another battle. There should be…there MUST be another way of sorting out our differences with each other, without fighting or dying. Shun certainly would advocate that!"
He felt a stab of guilt thinking of Shun. Though he was not all that protective of his younger halfbrother (not like Ikki whose former crimes made him overcompensate for the pain he had caused the Andromeda Saint) he still was the only one Hyoga felt he could relate to, and the only one he worried about. The death of Seiya had left him devastated, because he admired the Pegasus Saint's lust for life that he alone had had. If either Shiryu or Ikki had died, he would have mourned for them. But for Shun, he would have suffered most, for Shun was Good.
It contrasted horribly with the Evil he recognised within himself, as he did in every other Saint. Not even Shiryu was exempt: there was an intransigence within the Dragon that made him hard and unforgiving at times; it was probably what had led to his break-up with Sunrei. None of this hardness existed in Shun.
"True, he does posses an amazing resilience. He is not the softie we all took him for. How strange to have such a gentle soul, and yet such strength…"
A cat, a brown tabby, slipped in through the half-open door. As soon as she saw Hyoga, she halted her stride, eyed him suspiciously with one paw still in the air, decided he was unfamiliar and therefore too menacing for comfort, turned, and tailed it to the kitchen.
"She'll want her milk-before-bed. " said Vimi. "I'll give it to her." she rose, picked up Hyoga's beaker her mother had put on a side-table, and headed after the cat.
"Hot cocoa before bed for all of us! " cried Queer, "Do you like cocoa, Hyoga? "
"Erm…"
"Hot milk and chocolate."
"I know what it is." said Hyoga, slightly miffed. The man should not think that because he had been raised as a Saint he was totally ignorant. " I was going to say that I am not staying, for your own sake. As long as I remain here, there is threat…"
"Where there's life, there is threat!" said Queer with a grin, "It's one way to explain Darwin. And you had better explain yourself to Pal: she won't dream of turning you out, and you had better not cross her without a convincing argument at hand. "
"Did I hear you mention me?" asked mrs. Field, entering.
"Hyoga wants to leave too, Pal."
"Surely not! I was just about to put sheets on the bed in the guestroom. Oh, and Queer, Annie has washed and ironed today, so there is a fresh pair of pyjamas of yours Hyoga can borrow. Cocoa? Good, you children have a cup, I think we'll all need some help to sleep tonight…or would you rather have milk with honey, dear? You've only had some sandwiches and soup. Are you sure that was enough? I usually feel a bit peckish myself at night, I could bring up a tray. Something light…a little white cheese, perhaps, or a banana?"
Hyoga swallowed the growing lump in his troath, opened his mouth to answer, but only a sob came out. Something trickled over his right cheek. A tear. He wiped it off. More followed. He was crying.
He had not cried since his mother died. He had not cried for his master, or Isaak, or Seiya.
His left eye began to drip too, now, wetting the bandage. Huge, salty tears rolled down, clung to his chin for an instant, then dripped on his borrowed shirt. To his horror, his nose went watery too.
His knees felt all jittery, so he sat down, head bowed and hands buried in his hair, hoping they would not see how he fought for control. It did not work. He could neither stop the tears nor the sobs that came soon after.
Mrs Field and her son exchanged looks, and the young man mouthed: " I'll take charge of the bed, you of him."
And stepped out. Hyoga could hear him mounting upstairs: he was alone now with mrs.Field.
The dam broke. All the defences he had so carefully build up over the years went to pieces, and he with it.
Mrs. Filed sat next to him and drew him close.
"Don't…h…how can you bear touching me!" he hiccuped, "I do nothing b…but e…evil things, I…I k…ill people and that's ba-aaad!!!!"
He collapsed in mrs. Fields arms, the hardened fifteen-year old killer Saint persona swept away by the flood of tears, exposing the sensitive eight-year old who had lost his mamma still residing deep within the recesses of his being. And she held him and rocked him like only a mother can and let him cry.
He cried and cried until he had no more tears left, and then he cried some more.
Finally, finally he was allowed to give in to feeling. The hard bubble of pain that had been growing inside until it blotted out all other emotions had burst, and he screamed.
"MAMAAAAA!!!!"
"It's alright, darling. It's alright. I'm here."
No, it was not alright. This was not his mama holding him, it was Queer's mama, and he was blubbering all over her. He drew back and wiped his nose and face on his sleeve, realising too late that it wasn't his. Then he saw that the front of mrs. Fields elegant blouse was all covered in snot and wet and he wanted to die.
"It's alright, darling." she repeated, as she gently stroked away the strands of hair that were plastered all over his face, "You have been such a very brave young man for such a very long time. You should allow yourself some time to be a child again. And everyone's entitled to cry."
"Tissue." said a voice -Vimi's- behind them.
Still brushing Hyoga's tears away, mrs. Field took the paper handkerchief offered, and held it to his nose.
"Blow."
He did, and then Vimi handed him another, together with a steaming cup of cocoa.
Hot chocolate.
It had always been his birthday treat: to get it, mama had had to go all the way to the big city, and cue for hours . Sometimes, she was too late, and there would be no more chocolate left. Then she would bargain for in on the black market, and would come home so very late that he, though determined each time to wait up for her, had nodded off his cheek stuck against the cold window where he had his lookout post.
But she always came home with a piece of dark, bitter chocolate.
She would ground it in a mortar with some sugar, and then put it in the white porcelain cup with its golden rim that was her only valuable possession together with her rosary - though she would always say that Hyoga was more precious to her than either of them. Carefully, continuously stirring with a longhandled wooden spoon, she would pour in the warm milk (another thing she had cued for hours for) slowly, slowly, 'till it almost brimmed over. Together they would blow the steam away, and then mama would lift the cup to his lips for a first delicious sip. He always wanted for her to have the second one, and she always protested that it was his birthday treat, but he would insist and she would take the tiniest of sips, and so they would go on, till there was only a layer of molten chocolate left, which he would spoon out.
The memory made him feel like crying all over again, so he did. Then he blew his nose loudly in the tissues mrs. Field kept handing him. In a vain attempt to hide his embarrassment he put the cup to his lips.
"Careful: hot. Better take it up with you. I'm turning in too; goodnight, mum." said Vimi.
"Goodnight, darling. Shall I come later, after I've settled Hyoga for the night?"
"Hmmm." replied the young woman vaguely.
Only the smallest of sighs betrayed that mrs. Field had worries of her own.
"I'll come then. We'll talk."
Vimi left. Mrs Field sighed again, sadly.
Hyoga let his head droop again. "I've no right to impose upon these people. They have already done more for me than anyone else since mama died…"
Then his head went up, and he straightened his shoulders. "There is only one way to thank them, and that is to fight and win against the Gods…even if that includes Athena!"
All his doubts and fears were gone: the Fields, with their kind friendship, had given him purpose. It was as if he had been asleep and dreaming all this time, but now he was wide-awake. These people were what he wanted to be: independent, with a mind of their own, and free! He, too would be free.
Or, as Queer put it, die trying.
Something warm and heavy landed on his knee.
"Shoo, Janiculus." said mrs. Field, and the big mastiff lifted his head from where he had been looking mournfully (and longingly) at Hyoga's cup of cocoa.
The young Russian drank from it, and promptly got hiccups.
"I get those too, whenever I drink something that is still too hot." said Queer, making his reappearance through a side door in the part of the living room that served as library, and contained more books than Hyoga had seen in his entire life, stacked on shelves that reached up to the high ceiling, covering a wall and a half.
"'Cully, time for walkies!" said the man, slapping his thigh. He was, of course, addressing the dog, who got up with a short, joyful bark.
"I'll lock up, mum. Sleep well."
"I'll have things to talk over with your father first. Come Hyoga, I'll show you your room."
The Ice Saint quickly put the mug on the side table, rose and performed the most beautiful of sai-keirei's.
"Please, madam, you are most kind, but you do not comprehend…."
"She does, Hyoga, she does indeed!" said Queer, while clipping a leash onto Janiculus' collar, " I presume you are referring to the dangers involved in helping you. That never stopped her. Cap may not be a hero, but Pal's a regular heroine! She was living in occupied Belgium during WW II, and helped persecuted Jews to false passports…"
"Only once!" protested mrs. Field. " And only Jews I happened to know. Poor Rachel Balsam, with her beautiful long raven plaits…she was in my year, and when all the Jews were forced to were the yellow star, we all came to school wearing one, but a teacher with nazi symphaties complained and we were made to take it off. And Redlich, I shall never forget his face when he saw what age I had given him on his false passport, forty, though he looked at least sixty, when he was only twenty-eight, but he had been on the run from Nazi persecution for so long…both disappeared and never came back. I would have done more if I had known the truth about Auschwitz. I cried for three days when I saw the pictures, after the Liberation. I should have done more."
"Rachel and Redlich, that makes twice, and once is enough to be shot for it, if you get caught." said Queer. " Or sent to a concentration camp yourself. Being shot is the more pleasant option. And so many more did nothing at all"
"Jews? Auschwitz? Concentration camp?"
Mrs. Field and her son exchanged glances.
"He's never heard of them. Why am I not surprised?"
Queer went over to one of the bookcases and took out a volume. He flipped through it till he found the right page, then handed it to Hyoga.
"There." he said, "There. The inside of a WWII Nazi concentration camp. Jews were sent there in wagonloads, like cattle, and countless others: Romany, political opponents to the regime, homosexuals…. Auschwitz was one of the extermination camps. There they gassed Jews, six million of them, and Romany…old people, women, children…and where were you Saints? Even if your Gods were napping, and you didn't want to meddle openly in our own wars, why wouldn't save the innocent? Don't get me started on the horrors of other totalitarian regimes, right and left. The re-education camps in China? The Gulag? Does that ring a bell at least?"
"Hush, Queer." Said mrs. Field soothingly.
"No, not hush. " said her son, passionately, " It's because people hush that these things happened…and continue to happen."
Hyoga stared at the page that showed photographs of emaciated people in prison dress, behind barbed wire, and corpses, piles upon piles of corpses…and the face of a little girl wearing a scarf, staring , uncomprehendingly, scared.
He gagged.
"Yes, it does make one want to throw up. Humanity is evil. But do you know what is even more evil? That is to sit back and let evil happen."
"Queer. Don't blame the boy. He did not know. "
"I'm not blaming him. I'm just giving him one more reason to fight his former masters. Their notorious absence from the scene during the most horrible period of Human History was the first thing that crossed my mind when he told us about them. So I repeat: what good are they, if they won't save innocent people?"
"I…I am so sorry…"
"Sorry is not good enough. But you don't have to be: I want sorry from your Athena. That is why I'll help you, Hyoga. I'm committed now. We Fields - and Brandts- (he gave a bow towards his mother) may not go out of our way to do our civic duty, but when it comes our way, like hell we do it! Because one thing is for certain: none of us want to live in a world with those Gods."
The man drew a deep breath, and suddenly grinned: "Ah, la belle Phrase Immortelle, je l'ai bien sorti, là ! I'd do a 'we'll fight them on the beaches' speech, but I lack the cigar. Anyway, I'm going, or Cully will pee on the carpet."
"What has a cigar to do with it?" asked the bewildered Hyoga as Queer wrapped the leash round his hand and clicked his tongue at the patiently waiting dog.
"Winston Churchill. Great cigar smoker, made rousing speeches. Kept the Brits on fighting 'till the Yanks and the Russians came into the war…the latter finally on the allied side…sorry Hyoga, you are Russian, but they had joined the nazis first…hell, I'm not going to tell you the whole history of WW II right now, or the carpet will really suffer. Goodnight! I'll see you in the morning."
""And we will see you in the morning, will we not, Hyoga?" said mrs. Field gently as she took his face between her hands, " Think not on what my son has told you. Let your troubles rest for the night. You're home now. "
And later, when Hyoga sank gratefully under the covers of a bed - a real bed - wearing freshly smelling red-and-white striped pyjamas , he knew that to be true.
To be continued.
* = Authentic. So is mrs. Field's involvement in saving Jews during WWII. So is her modesty about it.
Mr. Field's training and post-war activities however are imaginary.
Author's note: Unlike the other 'real' people in this story, Rachel Balsam and Redlich are mentioned by their true names. Rachel, however, did not live in Belgium nor went to school with Mrs. Field. She perished in the Shoah as did Redlich, whose wife and child, fortunately, were saved.
Should anyone of their family read this story, know that they are remembered still