… Dérop felt her presence and turned around. She perceived that they were already waiting for her at home, he took a step in her direction, she calmed him and said:

‘You had best wait for Diáfana here in the garden.’ She went towards him, kissed him on the lips, and entered the great hall. The four Illustrious were standing. Aira gently invited them to be seated; they arranged themselves in a circle on the large cushions embroidered with silver threads, where light, which entered softly through various windows to the left and right, ricocheted and gained life on the ceiling as it united with the dancing reflections of the waters of the garden. In their midst was a small cast-iron stove with detailed work reminiscent of lace, that allowed one to see the little stones of burning coal inside; Aira placed a teapot on top, and prepared an infusion of aromatic and purifying herbs which she offered to those present in delicate, glazed-ceramic cups, she took a sip and put down hers, nested her slender, white hands in her lap and, with her eyes on the fire, respectfully began:

‘The occurrences which I just witnessed at the temple and in the square are clear expressions of the will of everyone in this city, in wanting to change the direction of their spiritual lives…’ She refilled the now-empty cups and continued: ‘However, they feel hostage to the millenary idea that something superior watches and protects them, and, like a stern Father, will not hesitate to punish his disobedient children; and (in an easily explainable unfurling of acts and consequences in the human architectural plan) this ancestral concept, defended with vehemence by Ebúrneo, was suddenly extended for an indefinite amount of time…’ At this last sentence, she lifted her eyes to the temple Guide. He, who was so thin and dried that he barely made a hollow in the cushion, allowed to escape from his mouth, slightly open in astonishment, an ‘I do not understand…’

‘Dear Ebúrneo, you will wind up understanding eventually. It is all a matter of time, History is replete with examples. Change is the inevitable tonic… or did you think that all this was static, my friend? In my opinion, the souls in the graveyard and the stones that cover them are what is most eternal. And even then, the words inscribed on them, time takes those away. Perhaps we drive too much the course of other people’s lives, presuming to know what is best for everyone… when sometimes it is best to let life “be swung by the winds”.’

This is Erudito, a humorous and very serious man, a keeper of memories vowed to silence, and only to observation; but for a long time his interventions had become advantageous, and his ‘vow of silence’ forgotten. Unlike Ebúrneo, Erudito had put on weight and, similar to the classic Romans he much appreciated, now rolling on three large cushions, he served himself some more of the little almond cakes and figs that Aira had distributed, along with fresh blackberries and strawberries from the garden.

She could feel the sadness and concern of Ebúrneo, who only asked in a low voice: ‘Why…? Why?’

‘Do not let yourself become too upset…’, Virtuoso, man of the Arts, said to him. ‘Despite the changes, it is also known that History repeats itself, and people always need someone to guide them, even after they have freed themselves from these shackles, whatever they may be… And just to quote one of your much beloved classic Romans, dear Erudito: “To those who do not know to which port they are sailing, no wind will be favourable!”’

Famous were the intellectual disputes between Erudito and Virtuoso, basically because one recorded the facts of life, while the other had the freedom to compose and recreate it. Erudito, irritated, spoke with disdain:

‘For someone who claims to be so free and liberal, you are very sure of the rules. Does it not seem to you somewhat paradoxical?!’

Virtuoso drank, and were it not for the redness of his cheeks, one would say he was unperturbed. He did not answer the provocation, rather sighed with resignation. Ebúrneo was about to start speaking, but Erudito did not want to go unanswered, and returned to the attack:

‘Ah! Silence… Powerful weapon. From afar, we are safe from ugliness, and at a sterile distance from knowing beauty. In summary, without the freedom of choice, and therefore with nothing to say; because we are left knowing nothing and even less to do, nothing to give, nothing to be!…’ And he smiled, staring at him, waiting. Virtuoso, undaunted, retorted:

‘In summary, you just defined yourself perfectly.’

Erudito, vociferously, made as if to get up. Aira grabbed his arm and asked them both to focus on the issue that had brought them there. She picked up a tiny, dry sprig of lavender and threw it into the coals of the small stove; little by little, the relaxing aroma wafted in, producing the desired effect. Ebúrneo was finally able to speak, and with drawling voice and trembling hands, he blamed himself for the tumult described by Aira, while at the same time excusing himself because he was not the author of the canons by which he was guided, and again blamed himself only to excuse himself once more, almost to the point of irrationality. The two men, previously contending with each other, exchanged perturbed glances.

Imhotep, the physician, one of the guardians and father figure to Aira, who up to then had remained silent, intervened, calming the temple Guide, who was breaking down in laments. He unstopped a tiny bottle, poured two drops of the milky liquid into a glass, and gave it to Ebúrneo to drink; he checked his tranquillity and heart rate for a while and, satisfied with the patient — who was now lightly asleep —, he put away the bottle, went back to his seat and, adjusting his body on the cushions, unburdened himself:

‘With the obvious exception of old Ebúrneo who, like me, has seen better days, I assisted the three of you at birth, just like almost all of the children of this little town, the same ones whose much-precious lives, today, narrowly, were not claimed at one fell swoop. It makes one think… Mainly about the reason why we are here, and it is simple: Ebúrneo refused burial in sacred ground to the man who committed suicide (father of the two children who were murdered), and to the incarcerated criminal who killed them he granted “pardon”, for showing regret. The reaction of the people was easy to predict: their revolt against the temple, and all that it represents. They saw themselves in that poor father, and felt betrayed.’

‘“And the rest is silence”…’, said Erudito in the direction of Virtuoso. The latter nodded his head in recognition of the citation.

In the still hall, suddenly, the light, transparent curtains in the windows and the main door, blown gently by Zephyrus, began a desynchronised dance up and down, resembling muses showing inspiration. Everything gained life, in a dance of shadow and light. At the door appeared Dérop beside his mother Diáfana.

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Next…

The Story of the Orb | Episode 3
The Water Garden — ‘Bewildered in spirit’

Diáfana lines up souls… and behaviours.