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*** France 199x ***
Silence reigned in the chapel. Only few beams of light fell through dust-encrusted stained glass windows onto gilded saint’s halos and angels. Small smudges of dust and pollen danced in the rays and gave an aura of velvety peace to the chapel’s sanctum. The only other sources of light were sunbeams which fell into the room through wide open doors and dozens of small votive candles which had been lit by forgone believers – some of them so short already that their wicks threatened to drown in molten wax any minute. Somehow they deepened the shadows which reigned inside the chapel.
Above the cast-iron candelabra which held the most votive candles stood a glorious statue of virgin Mary, her arms outstretched in a gesture of forgiving welcome and clad in a blue, star-bedecked mantle. She was superbly crafted and looked slightly misplaced in this small and rather simple church. Next to her splendour the altar at the front of the room looked insignificant, but through the architecture of the chapel, the positions of angels and saints therein and even through the light which fell through the open doors any visitor's glance was inevitably drawn towards the most sacred place – the small and unadorned cross which sat upon the altar.
Outside the summer sun had eclipsed already and everything shrank under her glare. Animals and humans alike sought to escape the heat, either submerged in a cool lake, stretched out in a tree’s shade or sitting in one of the numerous street cafés. Nobody would have thought of spending the glaring heat-filled summer day in a small chapel somewhere in the French countryside.
But Jean Pierre Polnareff was not nobody. He had been sitting here for quite some time, deep in thought, alone with himself, listening to the soft guttering candles and occasional bird-call. The chapel smelled of wax and ashes, of stone and age. It had been ancient already when he was just a small boy and nothing had changed since then. Maybe the pews were a bit more worm-eaten, maybe the walls a bit more decrepit and the roof even leakier but nothing much had changed here in all those years.
The summer heat was only a minor reason why he had retired to the chapels cool interior: he had been longing for silence for a while now. He had experienced so much, had lost so much. The time had come where he couldn’t bear the hectic of the modern world any longer. The pulsing, chaotic life of a metropolis like Paris, in which he had thrived formerly, was now loathsome to him. He had longed for southern France where he had lived with his sister. He had missed the glaring heat of the summer, the wide country side and the small, picturesque towns. So he had returned to the world of his childhood in which time, of course, had not stopped.
Silver Chariot’s shadow flitted along the benches and up the aisle. How curious, that the Stand seemed to be attracted by the glittering candles up front the altar. Whenever Chariot came into the candle's vicinity, Polnareff felt their warmth on his skin. Soothing and familiar, like an old friend.
*** Cairo 1988 ***
“Whoa there! Where are you going at this time of the night?”
Abdul, hand at the door knob, sighed and let his hand sink. Of all the people! He had hoped to steal himself away without alerting any of his travel companions and it shouldn’t have been a problem: the old Joestar, with whom he shared a room, was already sound asleep, Jotaro and Kakyoin had retired early to their rooms and were doing who-knew-what and Polnareff was sleeping alone as usual because … the Frenchman insisted on sleeping alone.
Said Frenchman was now standing here, only clad in shorts and a towel strung over his naked shoulders. His wet hair hung unusually straight down his back. He thrust his pinkie finger into his ear and wriggled it while fixing Abdul with an inquisitive stare.
How on earth could he get rid of Polnareff, Abdul asked himself.
“Good evening, Polnareff. Still up so late?”
“Not voluntarily, believe you me! Mr. Joestar and Iggy spent ages in the bathroom. I was beginning to fear that I had to go to bed unwashed!”
Abdul laughed.
“I see your are sparkling clean now. So nothing stands in the way of a good night’s sleep.”
They stared at one another. No one spoke.
“Is there anything else?”
“Yes. Where are you going, Abdul? I don’t think you honestly plan to walk around Cairo alone at this time of night?”
There was nothing for it: Polnareff wouldn’t be diverted when something had piqued his interest.
“I just have a small errant to make. Nothing important and I’ll be back soon – no worries.”
“Mon Dieu! What on earth could be important so late at night?!”
“Like I said – nothing of consequence. Good night, Polnareff!”
Abdul opened the door and was surprised to find the Frenchman’s hand enclosing his own and the door knob and pulling the door shut again. There was such power behind that movement that Abdul had nothing to compete with it and the door practically slammed back shut.
“Now you wait”, hissed Polnareff urgently. “What if you’re attacked by Dio’s henchmen?” Honest concern was written all over Polnareff’s face and rang in his voice. “He knows for sure that we’re here and is lying in wait until he can pick us off one by one.”
“I know my way around Cairo …”
“So what?! You escaped him once, granted, but you cannot always count on your fast legs, old man.”
Polnareff’s voice had gradually become louder and louder. Soon others would come to investing the ruckus … Abdul grimaced and pushed the Frenchman carefully but firmly to the side.
“The old man knows very well how to take care of himself. Now let me through.”
“At least take me along! I’ll dress in an instant and fix my hair … no, no … forget the hair. I’m back in a minute!”
Abdul had to bite back a smile. It was nice to be cared for by someone.
When Polnareff had challenged him to a duel back in Singapore Abdul had never dreamt that the boisterous boy could grow so dear to him. But the Frenchman had matured. Their journey had changed him as well as everyone else in their party. Abdul suppressed the urge to touch his forehead where a scar was the constant reminder of how close he had come to being killed.
“Polnareff, really. It’s not necessary.”
Now Polnareff grew suspicious and he scowled at the Egyptian.
“You are concealing something from me.” His face lit up with a sudden thought: “A secret love-affair? Family-matters? Schemes of revenge?”
This time Abdul really had to laugh.
“I don’t know what’s so funny now”, Polnareff said. “You were the one to constantly warn us against charging headlong into …”
“I am not charging headlong into danger. I planned everything. Look, it’s not even midnight. I know my way around Cairo and I’m taking Iggy with me …”
Oh no.
He shouldn’t have mentioned the dog. Polnareff shut his mouth with nearly an audible snap and went red.
“Quoi?! This disgusting little maggot? With it’s flatulence and hair-murdering tendencies? That one you’re taking with you but not me?! So, I’m not good enough anymore?”
“That’s not … Polnareff, don’t be mad. You know fully well that I value your company very highly. I just think that you won’t feel comfortable where I’m going.”
The pouting mien of Polnareff changed to one of burning curiosity. Abdul threw in the towel. He would have to accept that he couldn’t dissuade the Frenchman from coming along with him – and it was getting late.
“By all means, tag along if you must. But promise me to be on your best behaviour.”
“Of course! Whatever you say, Abdul!”
“And Polnareff?”
“Yes?”
“Please wear another shirt. One that doesn’t provide quite so good a view of your, hm, décolleté.”
Polnareff smirked, put his hands onto his hips and pushed his chest outwards.
“My, where do you have your eyes, monsieur Abdul?”
“Don’t poke fun at me! I’m not taking you with me half-naked!”
***
One “half-naked, now really!” later they arrived at their destination.
“A mosque?!”
Polnareff crossed his arms across his chest threw his head back and let his gaze wander up the walls until it reached the domed roof.
“What business do we have in a mosque?”
Abdul was surprised that Polnareff had recognized the building but was wise enough not to comment. It was pleasing to discover a smidgen of knowledge once in a while in the vast ocean of Polnareff’s ignorance.
“I will pray. You will be quiet and stay in the background.”
Abdul bowed down to Iggy, tried unsuccessfully to scratch the dog behind the ears and finally gave him a coffee-flavoured chewing-gum.
“You’ll wait outside, Iggy. Dogs are not allowed in a mosque.”
The Boston-terrier snorted derisively, took the chewing-gum and retreated into a corner at the wall where no-one could spot him.
“Come.”
Polnareff, who had stared after Iggy jerked awake and hurried after Abdul.
Even if he had little taste for philosophy, religion or similar heady nonsense Polnareff felt a bit intimidated by the majestic building. It demanded respect – even he could see that.
A cool, not say cold, wind blew through small streets and around corners and houses and caressed his neck with icy fingers. Shivering the Frenchman tried to crawl deeper into the long-sleeved shirt Abdul had lend to him. Now he was thankful for that – his usual attire would have been very much out of place here.
“Should I wait outside, too?”
He had reached Abdul. The Egyptian stood at a roofed well and was opening a faucet.
“Why would you wait outside?”
“Well, because I’m no Muslim and therefore …”
Abdul smiled.
“You are a guest in this house. As long as you show respect to your host you are welcome.”
“If you say so …”
Water was trickling over Abdul’s hands.
“Should I wash too?”
“No. You can sit on that bench over there and wait for me. It won’t take long.”
Polnareff sat down, pulled his knees up to his chest and watched Abdul wash himself. With careful and slow motions the Egyptian washed his hands, his face, nose and mouth, arms, forehead and ears.
Why of all days had Abdul wanted to visit a mosque today, Polnareff mused. Was it because their final battle with Dio was looming on the horizon? Was Abdul here to make peace with himself and the world?
Polnareff’s heart lurched.
To make peace with God …
That sounded very much like death and decay. Too much so for the liking of optimistic Polnareff.
Damn it! They weren’t dead yet – and for a long time coming! Not men like them! They were young and free, full of vim and vigour. Golden boys, heroes – Stardust Crusaders! With their heads held high and gloriously victorious would they emerge from this fight and free the world of a great evil. Polnareff was already envisioning himself riding with shield and lance against a dragon which looked suspiciously like Dio, when Abdul’s hand on his shoulder woke him from his daydream.
“Are you sleeping? You would better stayed home if you’re tired.”
The Frenchman was already opening his mouth for a spirited denial when he remembered where he was. Grumbling under his breath he followed Abdul to the entrance of the mosque. They slipped off their shoes and stepped inside where they were greeted by dazzling lights which made Polnareff blink. He took one further step and looked down in surprise when a thick and warm carpet caressed the soles of his feet. The carpet’s saturated red was a pleasant contrast to the pastel yellow walls and alabaster-white pillars which itself were lavishly decorated with painted or carved ornaments.
Polnareff was amazed. His gaze travelled skywards – up and up – to where the elegant pillars met each other in wide arches on which the dome rested.
“Take a good look around”, Abdul whispered in his ear, “but take care to be silent and don’t disturb the others.”
A mischievous smile was playing in Abdul's eyes and around his mouth so that Polnareff couldn’t be offended by his patronizing words.
“I’ll stay here”, hissed Polnareff in return, “and do absolutely nothing. And if a Stand is going to show up I won’t lift a finger even if it’s beheading you.”
Abdul chuckled.
“My dear Polnareff, you would be the first to throw yourself into harm’s way. You knight in shining armour!”
Polnareff blushed. Had he spoken aloud a few minutes ago when he day-dreamt of defeating dragon-Dio? Surely not. More likely that Abdul knew him too well after all their travels.
Zut alors!
While Abdul walked to the front to kneel down between a handful of praying men, Polnareff stayed in the back of the mosque. It was quiet here. The light murmuring of the worshippers didn’t reach this far. The thick carpet swallowed every sound.
Polnareff suddenly felt very alone. He buried his toes deeper into the carpet and hunched his shoulders. He was cold. Nervously he blew a strand of hair out of his face, which would not have been there had he had time for his hairdresser-routine. Silence was something he couldn’t cope with. It’s weight was too much to bear for him when it sat like a demon on his chest and suffocated him with its claws around his neck. There had been too much silence in his life. First the baritone of his father had vanished; to where no one knew. Then the voice of his mother and at last Sherry’s.
Although his aunt had taken him and Sherry into her house full of noisy cousins nothing there had been able to fill in the gaps left by those silenced voices. In the gigantic empty space which was the mosque’s interior he felt the silence grip him once again with icy fingers.
Polnareff laced his fingers behind his back and started to walk. He inspected the floral ornaments, followed their intricate lines and winding ways, all flowing into each other and once again apart but all of them towards a great goal. What he had noticed at first when entering the mosque found new evidence with his walk: there were no pictures or statues in the mosque. But instead ornaments were visible nearly every way he looked. He couldn’t tell where the ornaments stopped and Arabic letters started. His gaze wandered everywhere but he refrained from touching anything. Who knew what was taboo and what not?
So he wandered on, always on the thick carpet, under the electric glare of the lamps and the roof of this foreign house of God.
And suddenly all was well.
“Polnareff?” The Frenchman startled a bit when Abdul suddenly appeared at his side and touched his arm.
“We can go now.”
Abdul’s voice felt into the sea of silence like a stone. Small and delicate it caused rippled and waves, washed the demon called silence from Polnareff’s chest and left nothing but tenderness.
***
They spent the night together.
The last, final fight was immanent … could it be that they too needed to make peace with one another? To succumb to the attraction which had grown during the last few days? To acknowledge their mutual feelings before it was too late for that?
Possible.
Abdul let Iggy into the room he shared with the old Joestar, who snored like a sawmill but he didn’t follow the dog inside but closed the door softly behind Iggy. Polnareff stood uncertain in front of his own door, one hand resting on the door knob and the other massaging his neck. He looked at Abdul equally expecting and insecure.
The initial insecurity passed fast enough once the door had shut behind them.
In the sanctum of the dark room hands and lips found each other, were clothes removed, deepened breaths to soft moans and tangled fingers into thick strands of hair. A dance of sweet desire, whispered love-vows and pure ecstasy and at last deep, contented quiet, which embraced them so thoroughly like the arms of the beloved human next to them.
Silence?
It held no power anymore over Jean Pierre Polnareff.
*** France 199x ***
"Jean? Jean?!”
Polnareff lifted his head as the wind carried a voice into the peace of the chapel. He recognized the voice as his cousin Marie’s. A girl with a voice like a dock-worker!
Silver Chariot dissolved up front at the candles and returned to him. It felt good to know him back at his side.
Polnareff stood up, cast a last look around the small room, which had been haven and sanctum to him during the last half hour and then stepped outside into the glimmering heat of the southern French summer. How much would he have liked to show all this to Abdul! The rolling fields and pastures, the vineyards, the small Café that still sold the best ice-cream in the world and still used the same blue and white-striped sun-shades he knew from before.
How would he have liked to show him all the secret places which had held so many adventures for Sherry and him! But Abdul would never know anything of that. The disappointment and hurt had become subdued over the years, since – as banal as it sounded – time healed all wounds. Only now and again, in his darkest hours, grief and sorrow woke up again. In those hours Polnareff sought the peaceful solitude the chapel had provided.
He saw Marie who ran alongside the field-tracks and stirred up dust-clouds in her wake. Now she had spotted him and waved frantically.
“Jean! A man called. Jotaro Ku-something-or-other? Sounded foreign. Maybe Chinese? You need to call back – long-distance call!”
She was out of breath and cherry-red in her face when she reached Polnareff, who wandered down the lane to meet her – hands in his pockets and the sun hot on his shoulders. With unabashed curiosity Marie mustered him with renewed interest out of blue eyes which where hereditary on his father’s side of the family.
“He said … it was important and he needs your help in Italy.”
Polnareff was hooked already. Jotaro? Needing his help? In Italy? Sounded like a new adventure!
“Who is this Jotaro?”
Grinning he messed up Marie’s dark hair. Next year she would move to Paris for her studies. How time was flying! It was hard to imagine a tomboy like her in a city like Paris – she belonged into the country-side, the sun above her and the earth beneath her naked feet.
“You don’t need to know everything, smarty-pants.”
“Pah! You can’t hold your tongue anyway. Tomorrow you’ll tell me everything.” She thumbed her nose at him and ran off again.
Polnareff chuckled. She was quite right, but there were episodes in his life which he would not share with her. They would stay under a mantle of silence. Unconsciously he rubbed the spot on his left hand where the pinkie and ring-finger were missing. He shook his head and started to follow her. Slowly at first, then an easy trot and a full sprint at the end. He wouldn’t be outpaced by a half-pint like his cousin! He was not yet an old man!
Just you wait!
“Marie!”
- The End -