Eco: Foucalt's Pendulum by eco foucault (important books to read .txt) 📗

would remember that day of glory, second onlyto the burning of Molay.

The chief amusement ofthe Alley kids was collecting shell cases and other war residue,which after September 8 and the German occupation of Italy wereplentiful: old helmets, cartridge pouches, knapsacks, sometimeslive bullets. This is what you did with a good bullet: holding theshell case in one hand, you stuck the projectile into a keyhole,twisted it, and pulled out the case, adding it to your collection.The gunpowder was emptied out (sometimes there were thin strips ofballistite) and deposited in serpentine trails that were setalight. The casings, especially prized if the caps were intact,went to enrich one's army. A good collector would have a lot ofthem, arranged in rows by make, color, shape, and origin. Therewere squads of foot soldiers, which were submachine-gun and Stencasings, then squires and knights, which were 1891 rifle shells (wesaw Garands only after the Americans came), and finally, a boy'ssupreme ambition, towering grand masters, which were emptymachine-gun shells.

One evening, as we wereabsorbed in these peaceful pursuits, Mar-tinetti informed us thatthe moment had come. A challenge had been sent to the Canal gang,and they had accepted. The battle was to take place on neutralground, behind the station. That night, at nine.

It was late afternoon,on a summer day, enervating but charged with excitement. We deckedourselves out in the most terrifying paraphernalia, looking forpieces of wood that could be easily gripped, filling pouches andknapsacks with stones of various sizes. Some of us made whips outof rifle slings, awesome if wielded with decision. During thosetwilight hours we all felt like heroes, me most of all. It was theexcitement before the attack: bitter, painful, splendid. So long,Mama, I'm off to Yokohama; send the word over there. We weresacrificing our youth to the Fatherland, just as they had taught usin school before September 8.

Martinetti's plan wasshrewd. We would cross the railroad embankment farther to the northand come at them from behind, take them by surprise, and thus wouldbe victors from the start. Then no quarter would begranted.

At dusk we crossed theembankment, scrambling up ramps and across gullies, loaded downwith stones and clubs. From the crest of the embankment we saw themlying in ambush behind the station latrines. But they saw us, too,because they were watching their backs, suspecting we would arrivefrom that direction. The only thing for us to do was to move inwithout giving them time for astonishment at the obviousness of ourploy.

Nobody had passed aroundany grappa before we went over the top, but we flung ourselves intobattle anyway, yelling. Then came the turning point, when we wereabout a hundred meters from the station. There stood the firsthouses of the town, and though they were few, they created a web ofnarrow paths. There, the boldest group dashed forward, fearless,while I and (luckily for me) a few others slowed down and duckedbehind the corners of the houses, to watch from adistance.

If Martinetti hadorganized us into vanguard and rear guard, we would have done ourduty, but this was a spontaneous deployment: those with guts infront, and the cowards behind. So from our refuges¡Xmine wasfarther back than the others¡Xwe observed the conflict. Which nevertook place.

The two groups camewithin a few meters of each other, and stood in confrontation,snarling. Then the leaders stepped forward to confer. Yalta. Theydecided to divide their territories into zones and agreed to allowan occasional safe-conduct pass, like Christians and Moslems in theHoly Land. Solidarity between groups of knights had prevailed overthe ineluctability of battle. Each side had proved itself. Theopposing camps withdrew in harmony, still opponents, in oppositedirections.

Now I tell myself that Ididn't rush into the attack because I found it laughable. Butthat's not what I told myself then. Then, I felt like a coward, andthat was that.

Today, even morecowardly, I tell myself that as it turned out I would have riskednothing had I charged with the others, and my life afterward wouldhave been better. I missed Opportunity at the age of twelve. If youfail to have an erection the first time, you're impotent for therest of your life.

A month later, somerandom trespass brought the Alley and Canal gangs face to face in afield, and clods of earth began to fly. I don't know whether it wasbecause the outcome of the earlier conflict had reassured me orbecause I desired martyrdom, but one way or another, this time Istood in the front line. A clod, which concealed a stone, struck mylip and split it. I ran home crying, and my mother had to use thetweezers from her toilet case to pick pieces of earth out of thewound on the inside of my lip. In fact I was left with a lump nextto the lower right canine, and even now, when I run my tongue overit, I feel a vibration, a shudder.

But this lump does notabsolve me, because I got it through heed-lessness, not throughcourage. I run my tongue over my lip and what do I do? I write. Butbad literature brings no redemption.

* * *

After the day of themarch I didn't see Belbo again for about a year. I fell in lovewith Amparo and stopped going to Pi-lade's¡Xor, at least, the fewtimes I did drop in with Amparo, Belbo wasn't there. Amparo didn'tlike the place anyway. In her moral and political severity¡Xequaledonly by her grace, her magnificent pride¡Xshe considered Pilade's aclubhouse for liberal dandies, and liberal dandysme, as far as shewas concerned, was a subtle thread in the fabric of the capitalistplot. For me this was a year of great commitment, seriousness, andenchantment. I worked joyfully but serenely on mythesis.

Then one day I ran intoBelbo along the navigli, not far from the Garamond office. "Well,look who's here," he said cheerfully. "My favorite Templar! Listen,I've just been presented with a bottle of ineffably ancient nectar.Why don't you come up to the office? I have paper cups and a freeafternoon."

"A zeugma," Isaid.

"No. Bourbon. Andbottled, I believe, before the fall of the Alamo."

I followed him. We hadjust taken the first sip when Gudrun came in and said there was agentleman to see Belbo. He slapped