JULIEN

II

Chapter 33

S. & R.

When Ambar came back looking like the cat who ate the canary Julien wasn't too surprised to see Grégoire a few steps behind him. The Scout was trying desperately to look innocent, but actually he looked like a prospector who has found the nugget of the century and who hopes that nobody has guessed. Certainly this patrol seemed to have a rather different view of morality than the prudish Leopards, of which he had once been a member. Perhaps the Sexual Revolution had swept across the entire planet while he'd been away... Obviously he had carefully avoided saying anything about his own sexual adventures when telling them his story.

He was pulled away from his thoughts by a questions from Norbert, aka Nono. He was the assistant PL, fourteen years old and with straight black hair cut in the style of an Amazonian Indian.

“There's something I don't quite understand,” he said. “You say that all of a sudden you've lost the gift of being able to travel through hyperspace?”

“That's right.”

“How convenient.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well we're given to understand that Milord is an extraterrestrial Emperor. He's crossed the galaxy, but he can't prove it because he's lost his powers, and so he needs a train ticket to get back home. Do you really think we're going to swallow that?”

“It's entirely up to you. But if you have an alternative explanation, I'm all ears.”

“I reckon you're a couple of likely characters sent by Aurochs to try it on with us.”

“I don't know any Aurochses, but if he's your troop leader, you're barking up the wrong tree. And anyway, if he had the imagination to dream up a story like that he'd have already got onto the Signe de Piste to get it published!”

“You really claim that you're telling the truth?”

Julien turned to Woodpecker and sighed.

“Told you they wouldn't believe me,'” he said.

“I never said we would,” the patrol leader pointed out. “You have to admit it sounds a bit far-fetched. If you weren't sent by Aurochs, where did you come from? Did you run away from a circus? And even if I were to try believing your fairy-tale, how do you explain losing your gift?”

“Well... it seems to be because of puberty.”

“What's puberty?” asked Rapha, the youngest boy in the patrol. He was Nathaniel's little brother and just as blond, and he was eleven and a bit, having only just moved up from the Cubs.

“It's when you stop shooting blanks,” his brother told him.

“Shooting blanks?”

“Never mind.”

“Oh, I get it – it's when you start producing jizz, like...”

The elbow that interrupted him was quite sharp.

“Hey, there's no need to hit me!” he protested.

“Shut up, both of you,” ordered Woodpecker. He turned to Julien again.

“Puberty? Come on, that's utter bollocks, isn't it? I mean, the Emperor of the Universe suddenly stops working because he starts to shoot spunk? You must be having a laugh!”

“All right,” said Julien. “Fair enough: if you don't want to believe me, that's your business. I can't stop people behaving like jerks. It's not like I'm asking for anything from you. We'll just go and sit over there while we wait for someone to come and find us.”

“Hey, watch who you're calling a jerk!”

“Look, I've been telling you the truth for two hours now, and I'm a bit tired of being called a liar. Ambar, sho! Ngatso paghir drona mato, tab mindou. Nga kang senna, kontso dennpa mareh sammguidou.”

Ambar stood up with a look of shock, and Norbert felt a moment's doubt.

“Hold on,” he said. “What did you just say to him?”

“Nothing. I was just speaking gibberish to try to con you into thinking it was a real language.”

“Well, if that's your attitude, you can just fuck right off!”

“Oi!” interjected Grégoire. “Are you off your trolley?”

Of course he hadn't really talked with Ambar, but one thing he knew, and that was that he really liked the kid, and not only because of what they'd done together. He had no intention of standing by while he was kicked out of the camp.

“It doesn't matter a toss whether it's true or not,” he went on. “Personally I think it is. But when did we start pushing people away when they've done nothing? Didn't they ever teach you about hospitality, Nono?”

“But he started it! He's the one who...”

“SHUT UP!” Sometimes Woodpecker really could exert his authority. “Please, Julien, tell your friend to sit down What did you really say to him, by the way?”

“I told him we had to go because you didn't want to believe me.”

“Well... perhaps we did get a bit carried away. And you really do have to admit that it's not easy to believe.”

“I'm quite happy to admit that. To be honest I don't have the remotest idea why we ended up here, as opposed to anywhere else in... well, there's no need to go through it all again.”

“No, there isn't. And Greg is right: you're our guests – if you're still willing to stay with us, that is.”

“Thank you. And I'm sorry I called you names.”

“Forget it. We more or less called you a liar, so I suppose we're quits. So, this is what I can offer: we're going to be staying here anyway, so we can put you up until next Sunday. After that we'll have to decide what to do, but in any case we'll have to try to find a way of hiding those tattoos. They look pretty good, but they're a bit distinctive, and you'll get lifted by the first cop who sees you.”

“They're not tattoos, and in any case I can hide mine. But Ambar can't: we'd have to go back to Nüngen for that, and if we could get back there he wouldn't need to hide them.”

“He could try putting on some make-up, like women do,” suggested Raphael.

“Yes – foundation cream!” agreed his brother. “I'm sure we could buy some!”

“Another thing,” said Norbert, who thought he ought to offer an olive branch, “we could lend you some clothes. We won't need our sports stuff.”

“We can't do much for a couple of days anyway,” Woodpecker pointed out. “Tomorrow's Sunday, and then it's Easter Monday, so everything will be closed. We're here until the following Sunday, and we got permission to hold the camp so that we could survey the river down in the valley there. So we've got plenty of time to work out what we can do to help you.”

“Thanks, that's very kind. But I hope we'll have found our own way back home before next Sunday.”

“I hope you can, but if it doesn't work out you can depend on us. And if you want to come down to the river with us we'll be happy to lend you some clothes.”

oo0oo

When Ambar stood up and removed his laï, quite unselfconsciously, he created quite a stir as he stood naked in the sunlight, all honey and silver. It was impossible to pretend to be uninterested in such perfection, and so the boys surrounded him and admired him, and it was clear that some of them were finding it difficult not to trace the complex maze of his Marks with their fingers, as Julien himself had frequently done in the past. It was little Raphael who asked the obvious question with a mixture of envy and delight.

“Does it stop there or carry on under the skin?” he asked, pointing at the little wrinkled spout of Ambar's foreskin.

“Rapha!” protested his brother, pushing him.

Ambar couldn't understand a word, of course, but it was obvious what the question was about, and so he smiled at Raphael and carefully draw back his foreskin, demonstrating to everyone that not only was he nice and clean under the skin, but also that the pretty decoration didn't continue beneath. Grégoire could of course have told his colleagues this without the demonstration, but perhaps he didn't feel the need to explain how he knew. However, he did contribute to his erstwhile partner's clothing by handing him, as a present, his favourite tee shirt, which bore on the front the picture of a huge tongue, a design that had become the universally-recognised emblem of a very loud but highly talented group of young men. It could be said that Ambar wearing that particular shirt, which was about three sizes too big for him, looked at the very least highly suggestive, and he might have been advertising the sort of den of iniquity which would be completely illegal except perhaps in remote corners of Afghanistan.

Julien took advantage of the distraction caused by his beloved's behaviour to pull a pair of beige shorts up over his underwear and to slip on a checked shirt provided by Norbert, and once he was dressed he joined the circle of admirers gathered around Ambar. Sadly for those admirers he was in the process of covering up those parts of his anatomy which seemed the most perfect: Raphael had kindly provided him with a pair of shorts and some 'Petit Bateau' briefs and was now looking pensive: perhaps he was thinking about what was now concealed by the clothes which had until recently covered his own intimate parts.

oo0oo

At the bottom of the valley was a stream that ambled its way through dense vegetation. It wasn't all that deep and could easily be forded in several places, which disappointed those of the patrol who had hoped it would be deep enough to swim in. At one point in ran through a large fault in the bedrock, and here it was possible to imagine that one was deep in an exotic jungle somewhere – indeed, some of the party half-expected to hear the growls of some large predator. However, the sudden appearance of a big multi-coloured lizard still came as a shock, particularly to Norbert, who was leading the party: he took a step back, slipped on some damp moss and, after some vain attempts to regain his balance, ended up sitting in a foot of very cold water.

“Xarax!” cried Ambar happily, partially drowning out the imprecations of Norbert, who really didn't appreciate a hip-bath of such Arctic temperatures. But he shut his mouth quickly when the haptir spread his wings and launched himself into a humming dance around his friends' heads.

“Flipping heck, that's beautiful!” exclaimed Nathanael, a boy who loved snakes and reptiles and would have sold his soul for a glimpse of a king cobra's tail.

Xarax flew around for thirty seconds or so and then resumed his rightful place on Julien's shoulders, at which point Julien felt that introductions were in order.

“Remember me telling you about Xarax, the imaginary, impossible and totally non-existent haptir? Well, this is him.”

“So you really were telling the truth?” Raphael's surprise and joy at realising that the miraculous story really was factual warmed Julien's heart almost as much as being able to prove to everyone that he wasn't a liar after all. And Raphael's brother seemed to be almost desperate to come closer to this fabulous creature.

“Is it tame?” he asked. “Can I touch it?”

“If I ask him nicely he might let you get a bit closer,” said Julien. “But he's not a pet. He's a person. And he's got a very nasty bite if he gets annoyed.”

“I don't want to annoy him, honest!” protested Nathanael. “I'd just like...”

He fell silent because Xarax, who had followed the exchange through Julien, had jumped onto his shoulder. And whatever the Emperor's strange friend conveyed to Nathanael obviously pleased him very much, because the boy's face lit up with a radiant smile. And when Xarax jumped back onto Julien's shoulder a few seconds later tears of joy could be seen running down Nathanael's face.

“We should go back to the camp,” said Julien. “Xarax is going to go and fetch someone and then he'll meet us there.”

Nobody thought for one moment of disputing Julien's authority, which now seemed completely natural, and so they headed back towards the camp while the haptir flew off in another direction.

Scrambling back through the tricky rocks took a few minutes and conversation wasn't really possible while they were doing that, but once they were back on flatter ground Woodpecker felt that some sort of apology was called for.

“Well, Your Highness,” he said, “when should I start eating my hat?”

“Mine, too,” added Norbert.

“It's not 'Your Highness',” Julien told them. “People usually say something that translates as 'Your Lordship, but actually I hate all that stuff. If you'd just stick to calling me 'Julien' I'd be very happy indeed. But not 'Juju,' thanks.”

“What's wrong with 'Juju'?” asked Norbert. “Everyone calls me 'Nono' and I'm perfectly fine with that.”

“Yes, but you've got no class at all,” said Grégoire.

“Just you wait till we get back to camp – I'll show you who's got class!”

“Promises, promises!”

“So your friends found you, then?” asked Woodpecker, making a deduction of Holmesian complexity.

“Apparently.”

“But... you don't have to go just yet, do you?” asked Grégoire.

“Well, I'm sure everyone back there is worried about us,” said Julien.

“Couldn't you stay a bit longer? Just for tonight, perhaps?”

Julien couldn't help smiling, because he was pretty sure that the request was motivated by Grégoire's desire to spend some more time with Ambar.

“Sorry,” he said, “but we really can't.”

“But if you're the Emperor, can't you do whatever you want?”

“Well,” said Julien, “in theory, yes. And if I decided that I wanted to stay here, even if it was for a whole month, nobody over there would give me grief about it. I could even ask them to send me a tent and all home comforts with it. But that wouldn't be right. I have what you'd have to call a job to do, and people are relying on me. And it was probably very lucky that Aïn and Xarax found me at all.”

“Who's Aïn?”

“He's a Guide. You'll see him shortly.”

“Greg!” said Woodpecker. “Stop getting on Julien's nerves. We should all be happy that he's going to be able to get back home – even if it would have been nice if he could have stayed with us for a bit longer.”

“There, you see?” said Grégoire. “You want him to be able to stay too!”

“We'd all like it if he could stay,” contributed Norbert.

“Perhaps he could take us with him?” said Nathanael, hopefully.

“Yesss!!!” cried Raphael. “Go on, Julien, take us to your country – please? Pleeeeeeease???”

This wheedling tone often seemed to work when deployed against Raphael's parents, especially when he really, really wanted something.

Julien burst out laughing. Of course he didn't have a younger brother – or not yet, anyway – but he recognised the tone easily enough.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” he said, once he'd recovered.

“Why not?”

“Just imagine if something happened and you got stranded on my world with no way back.”

“But you've already managed to get from your world to ours, you and your mate both! And your haptir found his way here too!”

“Yes, but that was a rescue mission. We're not talking about a journey like a quick trip on the Métro, you know.”

“So you don't want to take us with you?”

“I'd like to, but I can't.”

“You're not nice!”

“I know, but there's nothing I can do about it.”

“Just a quick visit,” insisted Raphael. “We wouldn't have to stay very long...”

“Rapha!” shouted Woodpecker. “Leave him alone!”

oo0oo

“It's a blue dog!” exclaimed Grégoire.

Aïn was sitting quietly by the big patrol tent watching the small group come towards him. And then Ambar broke away and ran to him as fast as he could, hugging him with no thought at all for decorum.

“This is the Honourable Master Guide Aïn,” Julien introduced him, laying a hand on his neck.

Aïn, he said silently, I'm so glad to see you! How did you find me?

I was terrified when you jumped, answered Aïn. But once we were sure that you weren't anywhere in the R'hinz – at least, not in any of the places you knew about - I thought the most likely answer was that you'd gone back to Earth. So I jumped to your parents' house by the sea, and once we got there Xarax was able to sense you – and here we are. I'm sorry it took us a while, but jumping in your country is a bit tricky if you're trying not to get noticed.

I was sure you'd find me eventually. That's why I didn't try to come back under my own steam.

I'm really glad you didn't, My Lord. But what happened?

I stupidly tried to jump to the Table, just like I usually do when I travel with you. But I forgot to grab hold of you first, and I'd forgotten to wait for Xarax, too. I promise I won't make that mistake again. And instead of the Table I found myself here in this meadow, which is weird, because I'm pretty sure I've never been here before in my life.

That's a mystery we'll have to try to solve later. But now, if you don't mind, I'm going to take you back to the Burrow. Your friends are seriously worried about you.

Julien turned to face the Scouts and Xarax settled back onto his shoulder.

“It's like I said,” he told them. “We've got to go. Thanks for the meal, and for offering to help. We'd better give you back your clothes...”

“I don't mind Ambar keeping the shirt as a souvenir,” said Grégoire, who was clearly still reluctant to part from the angel – or was it a young faun? - who had made such an impression on him.

“I'd better have my shorts back, though,” said Raphael. “'Cos if I don't I'll be in hot water at home.”

He got back not only the shorts but also the still-warm briefs, and later he surprised himself by sniffing them in an attempt – unsuccessful, sadly – at finding the fragrance of what they had briefly contained. And because the Rolling Stones shirt came halfway down Ambar's thighs he didn't even get a farewell glimpse of the boy's beautifully decorated little member. But he still wanted to make one last attempt at changing Julien's mind.

“Are you sure we can't come with you?” he asked. “Just for a few minutes...”

“Sorry,” said Julien. “I can't ask a Guide to take risks just because I'd like you to come with me. And I really don’t think you'd want to find yourselves stuck at the wrong end of the universe if anything happened and we couldn't bring you back. I'm truly sorry, but we're going to have to say goodbye.”

So they all said goodbye. Grégoire managed to restrain himself from hugging and kissing Ambar, but he still managed to slip a little piece of paper into Julien's hand. This contained an address and phone number, 'Just in case you manage to come back one day'.

The actual departure was something of an anticlimax: there was no flash of dazzling light, no mysterious Twilight Zone music, no clap of thunder... one minute they were there, and the next they had gone. And as for the mysterious Guide, none of the boys could remember what he had looked like or even if he was actually human at all. It was really strange...

However, when Grégoire went to his rucksack that evening he got a surprise: at the bottom of it was a carefully folded white object, the texture of which he recognised immediately. He was sensible enough not to pull the laï out of the bag to show it off: instead he immediately stowed what was to become his most treasured possession in the plastic bag he had brought with him to hold his dirty laundry. And later, after he got home, he found a piece of paper hidden in the folds of the garment. The paper had been torn from his own notebook and bore a few words from Julien: 'Ambar thanks you for the tee-shirt and hopes that you will accept this little souvenir of your encounter together.'

oo0oo