Laura. You want me to be a babysitter to ten greenhorns for an entire week?
Eleven. The best students of the university. Questions?
Only one. Why?!
The government wants future specialists to be able to extract fresh ideas from the rotting foundations of the past. And at the same time, theyll learn just how miserable that past was.
Aha, thats why
Fine, Ill be completely frank. They wanted to shut down the history department. Something like, a two-week history course in the primary school would be enough. Yes, thats right, now stop imitating an crocodile thats trying to swallow the Egyptian sun. If you only knew what I had to do in order to get this project approved, and also to find the money for it. But tell me, she said, anxiously looking him straight in the eye, dont you want to see for yourself what youve been reading so much about?
She stopped, then quietly added, I was able to convince Him. And He gave the money for it.
At that point Tiberius realized that he had no choice. If the project was being sponsored by the emperor himself, then of course neither Laura nor he could jump off this train until it had successfully reached its destination. But he was interested in another thing.
Laura, that means you saw Him?
Yes, she answered, reluctantly.
Then you know what He looks like
Yes, I do. But of course I cant discuss it.
But dont you think it a bit strange that in our modern era, when its acceptable to announce every single step you take to the entire world, that a figure such as the emperor is so cautious about hiding his name and image? A strange approach to PR, dont you think?
Does this surprise you? Laura said, squinting at him mockingly. Youre a historian. Try and think of a single PR move, as you put it, like this one. Theres never been one.
Well, then, he chuckled, his head still spinning from the unexpected news, as an old and shabby wolf like myself once said, We accept the fight. [a classic line from the Russian animated film Mowgli, adapted from Rudyard Kiplings The Jungle Book]
The awkward pause was broken by the quiet but relentless ringing of Lauras smartphone. She glanced at it, nodded, and then turned off the sound.
Martha? asked Tiberius, trying to imbue his voice with an uncharacteristic delicacy.
Laura nodded, upset.
You had another fight?
Not exactly, its just
That means you did have a fight, Tiberius said, looking at her point-blank. Are you going to renew the marriage license?
Probably not.
She nervously drummed her fingers on the table.
But youve been together for four years! Its so rare these days that anyone renews their marriage even once, and youve done it three times!
Lets talk about you, she exhaled, eager to change the unpleasant topic of conversation. Tiberius, there are rumors
He burst out laughing. You dont say!! What rumors? That Im a sadist and a pervert? Maybe even a secret heterosexual?
No, nothing that serious, of course, but
And what are you ordering me to do? Copulate with my partner in the central square?
Well, that would be a start. But no, seriously, go with your partner to a club, get more people to see you, take a selfie in a cafe, on a dance floor
Maybe a selfie in bed?
It would actually be good. Im sure that Paul would post them all to his social accounts, if he doesnt first explode with joy. You dont exactly spoil him with your company, right? Listen. You already stand out because of your appearance and your abnormal lifestyle. You cant swim against the current all the time! Just look at us!
She rose effortlessly from the table and led him, laughing, to a large mirror on the wall. It seemed like the man and woman reflected in the indifferent surface of the mirror were separated by twenty years, no less. Tiberius didnt look at himself, but as always he was lost in admiration of his classmate her young, tender face, and her hair, which was the flaxen color of a linen Pre-Raphaelites goddess. And it was her natural color. Why do women always dye their hair some other color, he thought, regardless of whether their natural hair color is so beautiful? She could easily pass for Lorelei, from German folklore, if it werent for her eyes. Iridescent as jasper, they were unromantically piercing; her stern, sharp glare seemed capable of penetrating the very soul of an opponent, causing them to cower like a government bureaucrat at the Court of Fear.
You see? Just look at your gray hairs, your wrinkles, and your hands! When was the last time you were in a manicure salon?
Never.
She sighed, looking at him as tenderly as a lawyer gazing at a beloved, longtime client, whose case he hasnt been able to win for the last fifteen years, but thanks to whom the bank account is not exactly hurting.
Im not going to ask which rejuvenation procedures you use; Im just going to give you the phone number of my doctor.
I could care less about rejuvenation.
Smiling, he turned to her, took her by the hand, and then spoke in a serious voice. Its been ages since weve gone somewhere nice. Maybe we could get together in the woods?
Only after you start behaving like a good boy. Do you promise? And its about time exams are about to start.
Yes, mama, he said, unable to resist a risque little joke.
Laura jumped when she heard the vulgar word, but then pulled herself together and smiled. Taking something from a desk drawer, she put a small object into his hand.
Here, have this. Open it one week from today, no earlier. And dont be angry with me. If you can manage that.
Taken aback by the unexpected gift, and by her strange words, Tiberius couldnt hide his annoyance. Despite his strong gratitude for everything she had done for him, she had once again refused his offer to simply get together and talk freely, about nothing in particular
Thank you, he muttered drily, already turning toward the door.
Tiberius. You know that I know everything.
He flinched, then slowly turned and calmly asked, For how long?
From the moment that I first saw you.
The classics are dead. Long live the classics!
The exams came and went without incident. Since his thoughts were wandering today, somewhere far beyond the walls of the lecture hall, Tiberius was particularly sluggish and indifferent. There were no tricky, tortuously complicated questions, like the one that stumped his students last year: Was Jesus born in B.C or A.D.? The handful of students that came to his history class loved him. They loved him for his deep, encyclopedic knowledge, for his sincere passion for his subject and even for his rather venomous sense of humor. When Tiberius had been strolling in his mind around the cobbled streets of Berlin for the past forty minutes, gave a sigh, got up from the table, a fair-haired, round-faced boy gave a sigh, got up from his desk, and timidly walked up to him while clutching a scroll of brown paper nervously to his chest.
Sam Becket? You want to challenge your grade?
No, by no means, sir, the boy said, breaking into a broad smile. Its just, well today is the last day, and maybe well never see each other. I mean, as a teacher and student He blushed even harder. And Id like to present you with a parting gift.