Guy Kay - Ysabel

“Feel strange, looking at them?” Edward Marriner said, gesturing at the picnicking group.

Ned looked at him quickly. “I was just thinking that.”

His father made another wry face. “Good, we can still share some things.”

Ned thought about that, the distance it implied. Not just parents and kids growing up. There was more now. He swallowed. “I haven’t changed, Dad. I just…I can see some things.”

“I know. But that’s a change, isn’t it?”

It was. “I’m scared,” Ned said, after a moment.

His father nodded. “I know you are. So am I.”

He put an arm around Ned and Ned let him. His father squeezed his shoulder. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d stood like this.

His father let him go. Edward Marriner managed a smile.

“It’s all right, Ned. And it’ll be better when your mom gets here.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“But what can she—”

“Your mother’s one of the smartest people I know. You know it too. That’s why you asked her to come, isn’t it?”

Ned hesitated. “Partly, yeah.” He looked down at the gravel by his feet.

His father said, gently, “You wanted her out of there?”

Ned nodded, still looking down. After a moment, Edward Marriner said, quietly, “So did I. Very much. We may have cheated a bit, but it was still the right thing to do. Melanie is gone, your mother can help. You’ll see.”

Ned looked up. “But Aunt Kim? And Mom?”

His father hesitated. “Ned, people have tensions. History comes back, even our own, not just the big stories. They’ll sort it out, or they won’t, maybe. But I don’t think it’ll…control what we have to do here.”

“You don’t think,” Ned said.

“Certainty,” his father murmured, “can be overrated.”

“Whatever the hell that means.” Ned looked away, towards the arch and the structure beside it. Greg was up close now, gazing at them. The soccer kids were laughing beyond.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“That’s the oldest Roman arch in France,” his father said.

“Honours Julius Caesar’s conquest here. If you go look you’ll see carvings on it, Gauls in chains, dying. This whole area was in the balance, then after Caesar it’s Roman. The other one’s later, a memorial to Augustus’ grandsons, or nephews, something like that.”

Ned was thinking about the druid on their roadway the night before. This is not just about the three of them.

This arch recorded the beginning of something, and the end, he thought.

His father said, “These two monuments were the only things showing for hundreds of years. The ruins across the way were underground till the eighteenth century. They only started digging Glanum out eighty years ago.”

“How do you know all that?” Ned looked over at him.

His father made a face again. “Did my homework, unlike some people I know. I read Melanie’s notes last night. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Figures. Want to write an essay for me?”

His father smiled, but he didn’t laugh.

They walked down together towards Greg. Up close, the arch was even bigger, dominating, only the one other tall structure beside it.

“The asylum where van Gogh committed himself after cutting off his ear is over there,” his dad said, pointing. “Across the field, by the ruins.”

Ned shook his head. Everyone was here.

It was true, wasn’t it? Or damn near. He looked up at the arch, walking around it in silence. The carvings on the base and a little higher up were as his father had said. Battle scenes, some eroded or broken off, some pretty clear. Romans on horses hacking down at enemies, or fighting on foot. Gauls fallen, mouths open in a scream. There were chained captives, their heads bowed. He saw a woman in a Greek-style robe, different from the others. He wondered about that. He stepped back, thinking about the power this arch represented.

Everyone might have been a stranger here once, but did everyone who had come conquer and lay claim? Some visitors, he thought, killed themselves, like van Gogh. Or just went home, like Dante.

“Were the Romans good?” he asked suddenly.

His father looked startled. “You expect an answer to that?”

Ned shook his head. “Not really. Dumb question.”

“Let’s go across to the excavations,” Edward Marriner said. “You can tell us if there’s anything here that…” He shrugged. “You know what I mean.”

Ned knew what he meant.

“They’ll be closed,” Greg said. “The holiday.”

“I know. Everything’s closed. I’m assuming Ned can get a read, or whatever, by the entrance.”

“And if he does?” Greg asked.

“Then I’ll do what I have to do,” his father said. Ned and Greg exchanged a glance.

“Come on,” Edward Marriner said.

He led them across the road, then along a path through trees. The Glanum site had a low wooden gate, which was locked, though it wasn’t especially high. They could see the entrance building about a hundred metres down.

Edward Marriner looked at his son. “Haven’t done this in a long time,” he said. And placing a foot on the cross beam of the gate, he swung himself up on top, then down the other side.

“Not bad, boss,” Greg said.

Ned didn’t say anything, he just followed his father over. They waited for Greg to do the same, which he did, grunting when he jumped down—his chest had to be hurting, Ned knew.

They went up the path, alone amid morning birdsong, under the mild, bright sky. The low structure ahead was clearly new. Beyond it, visible now to their left, were the ruins.

Ned moved off the path towards the fence that surrounded the excavated area. In the distance he saw two tall columns. They reminded him of pictures of the Forum in Rome. Well, yeah, he thought.

The site was bigger than he’d expected. That was one thing.

But there was no other thing.

He couldn’t feel anything. At Entremont earlier this morning he had known it was empty, the sense of vacancy had penetrated into him. Here, he just couldn’t tell. He didn’t know.

He stood by the fence, looking through it at those uncovered stones, and felt nothing but quietness. No awareness of anyone, living or dead, or returned. On the other hand, he knew by now that distance seemed to matter, for him at least.

He looked back at his father and shrugged. “Nothing I can tell. But I may have to get closer. Maybe I should go in. I can get over this fence with a boost.”

In the same moment the door of the modern building opened ahead of them, and a guard hurried out, moving with an officious, self-important stride.

“Oh hell,” Greg said. “Bet a euro and a pack of gum he’s not real happy to be working a holiday.”

“Double pay,” Ned’s father said. “Or more, in France.”

Smiling broadly, calling a cheerful hello, he walked to meet the guard.

“At least we don’t look like vandals,” Greg said. He hesitated.

“I think.”

He combed a hand through his hair and beard and quickly tucked in his Iron Maiden T-shirt. Ned wasn’t sure any of it was an improvement.

The two of them stayed where they were. Ned was entirely happy to leave this part to his dad. He turned back towards the fence and the site, trying, without success, to sense anything inside.

He looked over his shoulder. His father was chatting now—looking relaxed, it seemed to Ned—with the guard.

The guard didn’t look quite so calm, but he wasn’t blowing a whistle or shouting. Ned saw his dad take out his cellphone and dial it. He looked at Greg, who shrugged. Edward Marriner started speaking to someone, then he handed the phone to the guard, who took it, hesitantly. Comically, the man stood up straight as soon as he began speaking.