The 2 12 Pillars of Wisdom Read Free Page B

confidence.
    ‘Of course you’re going to win,’ he said excitedly. ‘And afterwards we shall all have a grand celebration at the inn.’
    Then, from out of the shadows, there stepped four members of the Korps . They looked perfectly sinister, clad in capes of some sort, with long suitcases in which the swords were concealed.
    ‘Look, there they are!’ shouted von Igelfeld excitedly. ‘Hallo there, everybody! Here we are!’
    Prinzel froze. Had von Igelfeld had the eyes to see, he would have been presented with a picture of a man facing a firing squad. Prinzel’s face was white, his eyes wide with horror, his brow glistening with beads of sweat.
    The scarred student stepped forward and shook von Igelfeld’s hand. Then he crossed to Prinzel, bowed and introduced himself.
    ‘This is a fine evening for sport,’ he said. Gesturing to the weapons, he invited Prinzel to make his choice.
    ‘We shall have six rounds of three minutes each,’ said one of the Korps . ‘When a gentleman draws blood, the contest shall stop.’
    Von Igelfeld nodded eagerly.
    ‘That’s correct,’ he said. ‘That’s how we do it.’
    Prinzel glanced at his friend.
    ‘How do you know?’ he hissed angrily. ‘If you know so much about this, why don’t you fight instead of me?’
    ‘I fight?’ said von Igelfeld, astonished. ‘That’s quite out of the question. I would lose, I’m afraid.’
    Prinzel muttered something which von Igelfeld did not hear. It was too late now, anyway, as his opponent had now taken his position and everybody else was looking expectantly at Prinzel.
    There was a flash of swords. Prinzel thrust forward and parried his opponent’s strike. Then his own sword shot forward and steel met steel with a sharp metallic sound. Von Igelfeld gave a start.
    Then it was stand-off again. Prinzel watched warily as his opponent began to move around him, sword raised almost to the lips, as if in salute. Then, so rapidly and daintily, as if to be invisible, the other’s sword cut through the air with a whistling sound and, with almost surgical grace, sliced off the very tip of Prinzel’s nose.
    Prinzel stood quite still. Then, with a low moan, he dropped his sword and went down onto his hands and knees, as if searching for his severed flesh. For a few moments von Igelfeld was paralysed, unable to believe what he had seen. But then, remembering his duties as second, he shot forward, picked up the tip of the nose, a tiny, crumpled thing, and pressed it against his friend’s face, as if to stick it back on.
    Slowly Prinzel rose to his feet. There was not much blood – at least there was not as much as one might have expected – and he was able to maintain an aloof dignity.
    ‘Take me to the hospital,’ he said out of the corner of his mouth. ‘And keep your hand where it is.’
    Prinzel’s opponent watched impassively.
    ‘Well fought!’ he said. ‘You almost had me at the beginning.’ Then, almost as an afterthought: ‘Don’t worry about that nick. It always seems so much worse than it really is. Imagine what a distinguished scar you will have! Bang in the middle of your face – can’t be missed!’
    The landlord of the inn called an ambulance, complaining all the while about the inconvenience to which students put him.
    ‘They’re always up to no good,’ he grumbled, peering at Prinzel. ‘I see you’ve been fencing. Would you believe it? This is the Federal Republic of Germany, you know, not Weimar. And we’re meant to be in the second half of the twentieth century.’
    Von Igelfeld looked at him scornfully.
    ‘You don’t even know what this is all about,’ he said. ‘It’s a student matter; nothing to do with you. Nothing at all.’
    It was Prinzel’s misfortune to be attended at the hospital by a doctor who was drunk. Von Igelfeld thought that he could smell the fumes of whisky emanating from behind the surgical mask, but said nothing, reckoning it might be ether, or it might indeed be whisky, but