#225 - Speak No Evil
"Do not the most moving moments of our lives find us without words?" Marcel Marceau.
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My wife's funeral presented the high society of Barrayar with a moral and social dilemma. She was well-born and well-married, and whatever her behaviour, social rank must be respected in death.
Though much loved in life, she was hated now she was dead. Her reputation plummetted. On the lips of every gossip on the planet, she went from being the lovely young wife of a war-hero to the floozy who had betrayed him and driven two other men to their deaths. A wanton, a suicide, a whore - I heard my lovely Renée called worse than this. I had no reply to make, though each insult burned on my family name with its shame. The kindest description of her at that time was from the Emperor. "She was a lost soul," he said. "A lost soul, among so many."
He knew, because he ruled a planet of lost souls, himself most of all.
He touched me on the shoulder as he said this, and I nodded, with neither words nor tears. It anyone knew I was a lost soul myself, Ezar Vorbarra knew it. One lost soul recognizes another. My father was a different sort of man entirely, master of his own mind and his own fate, and he did not understand.
Understanding or not, my father was gracious and dignified in presiding at the funeral. I was there, of course, pale and silent, haunted-eyed. No one commented on my withdrawal into silence - I was in shock, the target of their sympathy and affection. "How could she treat him so?"
Her brother Ges was there, as pale as I was. Husband and brother of the decesaed, such a pretty pair in our black regimentals. We did not look at each other, or speak. I wanted to skewer him on my sword as I had done to Renée's lovers - after all, he was probably one of them. But already I had the mark of Cain on my forehead, already I was a double murderer, and if the people here could not see it, better that they live with their illusions. Barrayar could not afford my confessions, so I swallowed them in silence.
I wanted to kill Ges. I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to take him in my arms and weep with him. I wanted to turn back time to when we had been happy together.
Instead, as I must, I bowed to him stiffly as we took the tapers in our hands to light the candles that would guide Renée's lost soul to whatever transcendental light awaited her. His fingers friefly touched mine, not by accident. I pretended not to notice. His eyes sent some message that I refused to see. I looked through him at the darkness beyond, and tried to think of poor dead Renée, not her brother.
I led the procession after the ceremony. As soon as we broke ranks, Ges reached for my arm. "Aral -"
I looked at him then, and said nothing.
He stared at me intently. What was he looking for? Forgiveness?
My father said, "Go."
Ges looked at him, desperate, needing an ally. "But-"
"Leave now before we force you."
We walked to the ground car, united in silence, my father and I, and neither of us looked back at Ges, though I knew he was watching me.
After all that had happened, what could we say to each other now?
~ ~ ~
Character: Aral Vorkosigan
Fandom: Vorkosigan novels by Lois McMaster Bujold
Words: 577
~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~
My wife's funeral presented the high society of Barrayar with a moral and social dilemma. She was well-born and well-married, and whatever her behaviour, social rank must be respected in death.
Though much loved in life, she was hated now she was dead. Her reputation plummetted. On the lips of every gossip on the planet, she went from being the lovely young wife of a war-hero to the floozy who had betrayed him and driven two other men to their deaths. A wanton, a suicide, a whore - I heard my lovely Renée called worse than this. I had no reply to make, though each insult burned on my family name with its shame. The kindest description of her at that time was from the Emperor. "She was a lost soul," he said. "A lost soul, among so many."
He knew, because he ruled a planet of lost souls, himself most of all.
He touched me on the shoulder as he said this, and I nodded, with neither words nor tears. It anyone knew I was a lost soul myself, Ezar Vorbarra knew it. One lost soul recognizes another. My father was a different sort of man entirely, master of his own mind and his own fate, and he did not understand.
Understanding or not, my father was gracious and dignified in presiding at the funeral. I was there, of course, pale and silent, haunted-eyed. No one commented on my withdrawal into silence - I was in shock, the target of their sympathy and affection. "How could she treat him so?"
Her brother Ges was there, as pale as I was. Husband and brother of the decesaed, such a pretty pair in our black regimentals. We did not look at each other, or speak. I wanted to skewer him on my sword as I had done to Renée's lovers - after all, he was probably one of them. But already I had the mark of Cain on my forehead, already I was a double murderer, and if the people here could not see it, better that they live with their illusions. Barrayar could not afford my confessions, so I swallowed them in silence.
I wanted to kill Ges. I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to take him in my arms and weep with him. I wanted to turn back time to when we had been happy together.
Instead, as I must, I bowed to him stiffly as we took the tapers in our hands to light the candles that would guide Renée's lost soul to whatever transcendental light awaited her. His fingers friefly touched mine, not by accident. I pretended not to notice. His eyes sent some message that I refused to see. I looked through him at the darkness beyond, and tried to think of poor dead Renée, not her brother.
I led the procession after the ceremony. As soon as we broke ranks, Ges reached for my arm. "Aral -"
I looked at him then, and said nothing.
He stared at me intently. What was he looking for? Forgiveness?
My father said, "Go."
Ges looked at him, desperate, needing an ally. "But-"
"Leave now before we force you."
We walked to the ground car, united in silence, my father and I, and neither of us looked back at Ges, though I knew he was watching me.
After all that had happened, what could we say to each other now?
~ ~ ~
Character: Aral Vorkosigan
Fandom: Vorkosigan novels by Lois McMaster Bujold
Words: 577
~ ~ ~