brother here, outside their fort, because he was beginning to stink. Please tell your mother and try to console her.'
'Now let us see what the next one says. See, there is only a single character. It is the barbarian character war, but it has other senses too. It can stand for vengeance, and, if you turn it upside down like this, it can be made to read justice. There is no knowing which sense is intended. That is part of barbarian cunning.
'It is the same with the rest of these slips.' I plunge my good hand into the
chest and stir. 'They form an allegory. They can be read in many orders.
Further, each single slip can be read in many ways. Together they can be read
as a domestic journal, or they can be read as a plan of war, or they can be
turned on their sides and read as a history of the last years of the Empire?
the old Empire, I mean. There is no agreement among scholars about how to
interpret these relics of the ancient barbarians. Allegorical sets like this one
can be found buried all over the desert. I found this one not three miles from
here in the ruins of a public building. Graveyards are another good place to
look in, though it is not always easy to tell where barbarian burial sites lie. It
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2846 / J. M. COETZEE
is recommended that you simply dig at random: perhaps at the very spot where you stand you will come upon scraps, shards, reminders of the dead. Also the air: the air is full of sighs and cries. These are never lost: if you listen carefully, with a sympathetic ear, you can hear them echoing forever within the second sphere. The night is best: sometimes when you have difficulty in falling asleep it is because your ears have been reached by the cries of the dead which, like their writings, are open to many interpretations.
'Thank you. I have finished translating.'
I have not failed to keep an eye on Joll through all this. He has not stirred again, save to lay a hand on his subordinate's sleeve at the moment when I referred to the Empire and he rose, ready to strike me.
If he comes near me I will hit him with all the strength in my body. I will not disappear into the earth without leaving my mark on them.
The Colonel speaks. 'You have no idea how tiresome your behaviour is. You are the one and only official we have had to work with on the frontier who has not given us his fullest co-operation. Candidly, I must tell you I am not interested in these sticks.' He waves a hand at the slips scattered on the desk. 'They are very likely gambling- sticks. I know that other tribes on the border gamble with sticks.
'I ask you to consider soberly: what kind of future do you have here? You cannot be allowed to remain in your post. You have utterly disgraced yourself. Even if you are not eventually prosecuted?'
'I am waiting for you to prosecute me!' I shout. 'When are you going to do it? When are you going to bring me to trial? When am I going to have a chance to defend myself?' I am in a fury. None of the speechlessness I felt in front of the crowd afflicts me. If I were to confront these men now, in public, in a fair trial, I would find the words to shame them. It is a matter of health and strength: I feel my hot words swell in my breast. But they will never bring a man to trial while he is healthy and strong enough to confound them. They will shut me away in the dark till I am a muttering idiot, a ghost of myself; then they will haul me before a closed court and in five minutes dispose of the legalities they find so tiresome.
'For the duration of the emergency, as you know,' says the Colonel, 'the administration of justice is out of the hands of civilians and in the hands of the Bureau.' He sighs. 'Magistrate, you seem to believe that we do not dare to bring you to trial because we fear you are too popular a figure in this town. I do not think you are aware of how much you forfeited by neglecting your duties, shunning your friends, keeping company with low people. There is no one I have spoken to who has not at some time felt insulted by your behaviour.'
'My private life is none of their business!'
'Nevertheless, I may tell you that our decision to relieve you of your duties has been welcomed in most quarters. Personally I have nothing against you. When I arrived back a few days ago, I had decided that all I wanted from you was a clear answer to a simple question, after which you could have returned to your concubines a free man.'
It strikes me suddenly that the insult may not be gratuitous, that perhaps for different reasons these two men might welcome it if I lost my temper. Burning with outrage, tense in every muscle, I guard my silence.
'However, you seem to have a new ambition,' he goes on. 'You seem to want to make a name for yourself as the One Just Man, the man who is prepared to sacrifice his freedom to his principles.
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WAITING FOR THE BARBARIANS / 284 7
'But let me ask you: do you believe that that is how your fellow-citizens see you after the ridiculous spectacle you created on the square the other day? Believe me, to people in this town you are not the One Just Man, you are simply a clown, a madman. You are dirty, you stink, they can smell you a mile away. You look like an old beggar- man, a refuse-scavenger. They do not want you back in any capacity. You have no future here.
'You want to go down in history as a martyr, I suspect. But who is going to put you in the history books? These border troubles are of no significance. In a while they will pass and the frontier will go to sleep for another twenty years. People are not interested in the history of the back of beyond.'
'There were no border troubles before you came,' I say.
'That is nonsense,' he says. 'You are simply ignorant of the facts. You are living in a world of the past. You think we are dealing with small groups of peaceful nomads. In fact we are dealing with a well organized enemy. If you had travelled with the expeditionary force you would have seen that for yourself.'
