Babel : Or the Necessity of Violence: an Arcane History of the Oxford Translators' Revolution (9780063021440)

‘Bào,’ said Professor Lovell. ‘The radical for fire. And beside it, the radical for violence, cruelty, and turbulence; the same radical which on its own can mean untamed, savage brutality; the same radical used in the words for thunder and cruelty.^* And he translated it against burst, the tamest English translation possible, so tame that it hardly translates as such at all – so that all of that force, that destruction, was trapped in the silver. It exploded against her chest. Sprang her ribs apart like an open birdcage. And then he left her there, lying among the shelves, books still in hand. When I saw her, her blood had pooled across half the floor. Stained every page red.’ He slid the bar across the table. ‘Hold it.’

Robin flinched. ‘Sir?’

‘Pick it up,’ snapped Professor Lovell. ‘Feel the weight of it.’

Robin reached out and closed his fingers around the bar. It was terribly cold to the touch, colder than any other silver he’d encountered, and inordinately heavy. Yes, he could believe that this bar had murdered someone. It seemed to hum with trapped, furious potential, a lit grenade, waiting to go off.

He knew it was pointless to ask, but he had to regardless. ‘How do you know it was Griffin?’

‘We’ve had no other students in Chinese in the past ten years,’ said Professor Lovell. ‘Do you suppose I did it? Or Professor Chakravarti?’

Was he lying? It was possible – this story was so grotesque, Robin nearly didn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe that Griffin could be capable of something like murder.

But wasn’t he? Griffin, who spoke of Babel faculty as if they were enemy combatants, who sent his own brother repeatedly into the fray without care for the consequences, who was so convinced of the Manichaean justice of the war he fought that he could see little else. Wouldn’t Griffin have murdered a defenceless girl, if it meant keeping Hermes secure?

‘I’m sorry,’ Robin whispered. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘This is who you’ve thrown your lot in with,’ said Professor Lovell. ‘A liar and a killer. Do you imagine you’re aiding some movement of global liberation, Robin? Don’t be naive. You’re aiding Griffin’s delusions of grandeur. And for what?’ He nodded to Robin’s shoulder. ‘A bullet in your arm?’

‘How did you—’

‘Professor Playfair observed you might have hurt your arm rowing. I am not quite so easily deceived.’ Professor Lovell clasped his hands over the desk and leaned back. ‘So. The choice ought to be very obvious, I think. Babel, or Hermes.’

Robin frowned. ‘Sir?’

‘Babel, or Hermes? It’s quite simple. You may decide.’

Robin felt like a broken instrument, capable of uttering only one sound. ‘Sir, I don’t . . .’

‘Did you think you would be expelled?’

‘Well – yes, wouldn’t—’

‘It’s not quite so easy to leave Babel, I’m afraid. You’ve strayed down the wrong path, but I believe it was as a result of vicious influences – influences crueller and wilier than you could have been expected to handle. You’re naive, yes. And a disappointment. But you’re not finished. This does not need to end with gaol or prison.’ Professor Lovell tapped his fingers against the desk. ‘But it would be very helpful if you could give us something useful.’

‘Useful?’

‘Information, Robin. Help us find them. Help us root them out.’

‘But I don’t know anything about them,’ said Robin. ‘I don’t even know any of their names, except Griffin’s.’

‘Really.’

‘It’s true, it’s how they operate – they’re so decentralized, they don’t tell new associates anything. In case—’ Robin swallowed. ‘In case something like this happens.’

‘How unfortunate. You’re quite sure?’

‘Yes, I really don’t—’

‘Say what you mean, Robin. Don’t dither.’

Robin flinched. Those were precisely the same words Griffin had used; he remembered. And Griffin had said it exactly the same way Professor Lovell did now, cold and imperious, as if he’d already won the argument, as if any response Robin made was bound to be nonsense.

And Robin could imagine Griffin’s smirk just now; knew exactly what he would say – of course you’ll choose your creature comforts, you coddled little scholar. But what right did Griffin have to judge his choices? Staying at Babel, at Oxford, wasn’t indulgence; it was survival. It was his only ticket into this country, the one thing between him and the streets.

He felt a sudden flare of hatred towards Griffin. Robin had asked for none of this, and now his future – and Ramy’s and Victoire’s futures – hung in the balance. And where was Griffin? Where was he when Robin had been shot? Vanished. He’d used them to do his bidding, then abandoned them when things went sour. At least if Griffin went to prison, he deserved it.

‘If it’s loyalty that’s keeping you quiet, then there’s nothing else to be done,’ said Professor Lovell. ‘But I think we can work together still. I think you’re not quite ready to leave Babel. Don’t you?’

Robin took a deep breath.