A Lesson for the Cyclops (9 page)

D’Arbignal was waiting for her when she arrived. His white shirt had a small brown stain on the breast, and D’Arbignal grimaced when he moved.

“Yes,” he acknowledged, “Alfredo has been getting a little overzealous of late.”

“Are you hurt badly?” she said.

He waved away her concern.

“I’ve heard puns that hurt more than this,” he said. “Now would you like to see your surprise?”

She hesitated only a few moments, and then nodded.

D’Arbignal grinned and reached into his magical bag. If she had been given a year to guess what the gift was, she still wouldn’t have guessed the item he withdrew.

“Oh no,” she said, shaking her head. “I couldn’t!”

D’Arbignal’s grin was enormous. His eyes lit up like a naughty child’s.

“Sure you could,” he said.

Every night after the marks had gone home, she met D’Arbignal by the creek. Nearly every time, he had some new injury born of Alfredo’s blade.

He repeatedly deflected questions about his wounds, laughing each off with a quip or a dismissive wave of his hand.

It was only on the last night they met that he remarked upon his misfortunes.

“Alfredo thinks I’m sleeping with his wife,” D’Arbignal said with an ironic smile. He had a brown-stained bandage wrapping his right hand. “I may be the only man in the circus who
hasn’t
slept with Conchinara, but since I disappear each night after the show …”

He shrugged.

“It is starting to get a little tedious,” he admitted.

The night that Conchinara told her husband that D’Arbignal had gotten her pregnant, the Cyclops was on display in the Freak Show. Since D’Arbignal had helped her improve her appearance, the number of marks who came to see her had increased nightly. There was a full house when the tent shook from the impact of a body against its side. The crowd cried out in alarm, and streamed out of the tent.

Pahula hopped down from her platform.

“We must see what’s is gooing on!” she said, her eyes wide with excitement.

The midget twins scampered off after her. Alone now, the Cyclops decided she might as well go look, too.

She emerged to see Alfredo chasing D’Arbignal about the circus grounds. Alfredo's eyes were aflame with rage, his rapier whistling. D’Arbignal evaded, dodging the Master Fencer’s deadly blade, backpedaling toward the Main Tent. An ever-increasing crowd followed, watching this unexpected spectacle.

“I swear to you, I’m telling you the truth,” D’Arbignal protested, his rapier still sheathed at his side, waving his hands as though to ward off Alfredo’s wrath.

“Screwed my
wife!”
Alfredo said, insane with anger. “Screwed my
wife!”

“I’m telling you, I did not!”

It was like arguing with a charging rhinoceros. None of D’Arbignal’s words seemed to get through to the Master Fencer.

D’Arbignal backed into the Main Tent. Alfredo followed. Startled cries and shouts emerged from the audience, who, judging by the hour, would have been watching one of Conchinara’s sultry dances.

Marco had expressly forbidden the freaks from entering the Main Tent, but the Cyclops suspected that many things would be changing tonight, so she followed the crowd into the tent.

Inside, Marco was desperately trying to restore order, but everyone seemed to be ignoring him. Alfredo was chasing D’Arbignal around the large ring, while Conchinara continued to point and hurl accusations and curses at D’Arbignal.

D’Arbignal’s eyes were wide with terror when the Cyclops entered the tent, but as soon as he spotted her, he dropped the façade and winked at her.

He addressed Alfredo while backpedaling.

“For the last time,” he said, his voice filling the space as only a trained actor could, “I give you my word that I have not slept with your wife!”

“Don’t listen to him,” Conchinara goaded. “He’s the one. He’s the one!”

“You’re really not helping,” D’Arbignal said.

Conchinara smirked, her eyes filled with vindictive pleasure.

“For the last time,” Alfredo said, his face red with fury, “I say you are a liar and that you’re about to die!”

“Well then,” D’Arbignal said, “you leave me little choice!”

D’Arbignal drew his orange rapier, a manic grin on his face.

As soon as D’Arbignal had taken two steps towards Alfredo, the Cyclops realized that he had been fooling everybody. There was something about the economy of his motion, the grace in the way he placed his feet that made the Cyclops realize that D’Arbignal was far, far more skilled with the rapier than he had been letting on.

Blinded by rage, Alfredo didn’t seem to notice. Their blades collided like the ringing of bells, the clashing of cymbals. It was like the first day they had sparred, only escalated to an epic scale. Dizzying combinations of thrusts, slices, parries, and ripostes whirled by too quickly for the conscious mind to register. Instead, the Cyclops saw the battle as interpreted by her subconscious, as a series of after-images

The more aggressive Alfredo became, the more D’Arbignal grinned, as though he had no fear—or perhaps even that he longed for a spectacular death.

“Come on!” he shouted. “You’re supposed to be the Master Fencer! Show us some master fencing!”

When Alfredo lunged at him next, D’Arbignal squatted and then leapt into the air, somersaulting over Alfredo’s head and landing behind him. He kicked Alfredo squarely in the buttocks, and sent him staggering.

“Mistress Gilliam’s acrobats taught me that!” D’Arbignal said to Marco.

The crowd roared with approval.

Alfredo whirled and came at D’Arbignal again, but D’Arbignal back-flipped out of the way, parrying Alfredo’s rapier in mid-air.

“Her acrobats taught me that one, too!” D’Arbignal shouted.

Another round of applause.

Once again, Alfredo lunged. This time, D’Arbignal did a complicated mid-air cartwheel, where his hands did not touch the ground. He landed with a pirouette, did a quick bow to the audience, then turned back to face Alfredo just in time to parry another onslaught.

“I made that one up myself,” D’Arbignal confided, and the crowd rewarded him with laughter and applause.

“Damn it,” Conchinara called to Alfredo, “
kill him, will you?”

D’Arbignal touched his forelock, bowed to Conchinara, and winked at the crowd.

Then he made his error. Once more, he stepped forward with his left foot, squaring his torso to Alfredo. As had happened numerous times before, Alfredo was there to seize the opportunity. There was murder in his eyes.

Alfredo sidestepped, lunging at D’Arbignal’s exposed torso. Only this time, D’Arbignal stepped forward with his right, spinning into the space beside Alfredo’s blade. D’Arbignal wrapped his arm around Alfredo’s, trapping it, and then gently elbowed Alfredo in the nose. Even from where she stood, the Cyclops could hear the sound of Alfredo’s nose breaking.

“Come on,” D’Arbignal said, disengaging. “You didn’t really think I was making that mistake accidentally, did you? I mean, did you really believe I’d just keep making the same error every time and never learn from it? How dumb do you think I am?”

“No wait,” he said, his eyebrows raised. “Don’t answer that. I’m not sure I want to know.”

The audience received the jest well, laughing and cheering. They likely had never seen such a show before, nor ever would again.

“Maria,” D’Arbignal called out. “How many teacups did you say Alfredo smashed?”

The Cyclops froze, surprised at being pulled into the act. Then without intending to, she held up two fingers and said, “Two. He broke two of my teacups.”

D’Arbignal’s eyes hardened and his orange blade leapt forward, a small spray of blood shot from Alfredo’s chest, where D’Arbignal had carved a circle the size of a copper coin.

“That’s one,” he said, with no mirth in his voice this time.

Again, he struck, and Alfredo was defenseless against him. Again, blood sprayed, leaving behind a second circle.

“And that’s two.”

D’Arbignal glanced at the Cyclops, and then raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, why not?” he said. His rapier darted forward again, in a semi-circular slashing motion, leaving behind a curved cut on Alfredo’s torso.

When viewed together, the two circles and the curved slash resembled a crude drawing of a smiling face.

“What can I say?” D’Arbignal said. “I’m in a good mood.”

The crowd’s reaction to this was mixed. Some laughed at D’Arbignal’s jest, but others gasped at the the carnage.

Alfredo roared, charging at D’Arbignal. D’Arbignal responded with a dizzying series of parries and ripostes, and then suddenly, Alfredo’s rapier was flying through the air only to land point-first precisely between Conchinara’s feet. Terrified, she leapt back, but collided with one of the haulmen and fell to her knees.

“That wasn’t an accident,” D’Arbignal said, eyes blazing.

Now Alfredo dropped to his knees, too, surrendering, his hands raised upwards, pleading.

“Spare me!” he cried.

Conchinara grabbed the rapier from the ground and tossed it to her husband. “Alfredo, here!”

But Alfredo just let the rapier fall to the ground.

“You know,” D’Arbignal said to Conchinara, “you’re not a very nice person.”

“You’ve been fucking my wife!” Alfredo spat defiantly, still on his knees.

“I think you’ve got that backwards,” D’Arbignal quipped. “I never laid a hand on her. I swear it.”

“Liar! Every night, Conchinara disappears. Every night, you’re nowhere to be found. Every night, she comes back to our tent smelling of another man. You’ve been fucking my wife!”

Alfredo sprang at D’Arbignal, who retreated a step, rapier at the ready.

“No, I haven’t,” D’Arbignal said patiently. “My evenings have been otherwise engaged.”

Alfredo glanced at his own rapier, Conchinara still holding it out to him. D’Arbignal waved his hand in a be-my-guest gesture. Alfredo looked torn between fear and pride, but at last, accepted the weapon from his wife. However, he kept the weapon lowered at his side.

“Engaged? Engaged by what?” he said, spittle dotting the corners of his mouth.

D’Arbignal grinned. “I’m so glad you asked.”

He spread his arms wide to the audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to announce the second act! Prepare for thrills and chills as I introduce Madame Maria (formerly known as the Cyclops).” He extended his hand to the Cyclops, who hesitated only momentarily before coming to him and taking his hand.

Alfredo looked confused. “You’ve been fucking the freak?”

D’Arbignal shook his head.

“You shouldn’t have said that,” he said. He was grinning, but it seemed forced. His eyes were cold.

D’Arbignal reached into his bag and withdrew several small objects. He held them aloft in the light to reveal that he held three large rubies. A collective gasp issued from the audience. Conchinara looked at the stones with unconcealed avarice.

“Marco,” D’Arbignal called out. “I’ve produced what I promised. Do you still agree to the terms of our wager?”

“Wager?” Alfredo said. “What wager?”

Marco stepped forward, wringing his hands. His forehead was dotted with perspiration, and his eyes shone. His voice had a giddy tremor in it as he said, “Yes, we are still on for our wager.”

“
What
wager?” Alfredo said again.

D’Arbignal returned to his bag, and withdrew the gift he had given to the Cyclops two weeks ago: a gleaming silver rapier with an ornate silver guard. He handed the rapier to her hilt-first.

“I don’t … I don’t understand,” Alfredo said.

Feeling like an idiot, the Cyclops stepped before Alfredo and saluted him as D’Arbignal had taught her. She stayed immobile, waiting for Alfredo to return the salute.

“You … you can’t be serious!”

D’Arbignal produced another ruby and placed it on the ground separated from the others. “Is this serious enough?”

Alfredo laughed. “My reputation is worth more than a few gems. It’ll take more than that to get me to hurt a woman, even one as ugly as her.”

“Fine,
five
rubies then.” He produced the fifth ruby.

Alfredo put his hands on his hips. “You don’t understand, D’Arbignal. There is no number of gems you can give me that will convince me to duel …
that
.”

“Fair enough,” D’Arbignal said. He sheathed his orange rapier and placed it next to the gems. “How about that?”

“D’Arbignal, no!” cried the Cyclops.

He grinned at her and winked, his eyes manic.

There was that gleam of avarice in Alfredo’s eyes again. He smiled grimly.

“I accept your offer. What do you want of me in return, if somehow the freak wins?”

“Two things,” D’Arbignal said. “First, that you treat Maria with respect from now on.”

“And the other?”

“That you teach her to fence until she is as good as you or better.”

“Done!” Alfredo said, laughing. “I would have offered anything, because it’s a fool’s bet. Thank you for the rapier, D’Arbignal.”

D’Arbignal bowed with a flourish. “My pleasure. It’s yours for the taking. Now all you have to do is
earn
it.”

Rage filled Alfredo’s eyes once more as he turned to face the Cyclops and returned her salute. He adopted his fighting stance. She assumed hers.

“To first blood?” D’Arbignal suggested.

“To first blood,” Alfredo agreed.

The Cyclops nodded. “To first blood.”

“By the time he’ll be fighting you, he’ll be exhausted,” D’Arbignal had said during one of their private training sessions by the creek. “He’ll be exhausted, enraged, and contemptuous.”

“But how do you know?” the Cyclops had said.

“It’s what I do best,” D’Arbignal had replied with a grin. “He’ll want to end the duel very quickly, to regain face with the audience, and to make you look as inept as possible. But don’t worry: we have a plan!”

“We do?” she had said, not convinced.