Knights And Maidens Pt. 02

The dining itself was an all-male affair. The Senior Master and some half-dozen other officers of the Temple had joined us. Both of the men who had conducted my interview were there; and it was interesting to see Olivia, whom I'd assumed was in charge then, now serving them their dinner.

After they had finished laying out the meal, our waitresses retreated to the background but remained close at hand to provide instant service -- pouring drinks and refilling glasses, fetching more bread, passing plates and bowls. Focused on their task, they paid no heed to our less than subtle scrutiny, or at least pretended not to. Nevertheless I could see on several faces the tenuous, enigmatic smile of a pretty girl who is not quite sure if she should feel flattered or affronted, appeased or displeased by the attention she's receiving.

Ben next to me nudged me in the ribs and grinned. "Nice, eh?"

Not having a clue to whom in particular he was referring, I just nodded. Then I followed his gaze across the table, to where Olivia had crouched down to retrieve a piece of cutlery dropped by one of our fellow diners. As she bent forward, her charming assets nearly spilled out the top of her dress.

"Yeah, sweet," I replied.

She must have caught my true expression, because when she glanced up at me she winked. At least I think she did, although it might well have been just a random blink. Aged in her mid-twenties, she appeared to be older than anyone else in the room, with the possible exception of the Senior Master, and I wondered how she felt being ogled by the self-satisfied fledglings to whose needs and whims she was attending. She looked tired.

There were introductions and short welcoming speeches, nothing too solemn or stately. During coffee Senior Master Parnell rose to deliver another address. It was essentially superfluous, because he concluded with the admonition: "The most effective teacher is experience, and your best introduction will be what you learn over the next few weeks and months. Never forget that to be part of our Order is an honour, not just a privilege... And now for a few important notices." I remembered none of these.

Sleepy from the meal and overwhelmed by the unfamiliar, I retired to bed immediately after we were dismissed. We left the women to clean up.

I slept fitfully, which was not helped by Ben getting in noisily sometime after midnight. Up at dawn, I went down to the lobby and found the entire place deserted. Apparently the Templars were not, in general, early risers. I had arranged to meet Kate for breakfast in one of the Village coffee shops, so I took a brisk walk in the fresh morning air to clear my head. My sister was already there seated when I arrived, and she was acting quite animated. I teased that maybe she should try cutting down on the caffeine.

"Sorry; I'm just so proud of my baby brother," she beamed.

I was not quite sure what the pride was for, and I let the baby bit go by. She asked me what I thought about my first night as a Templar.

"Interesting start," I replied.

"It's just the beginning," she said, and then added after a pause, "but do try to see past the obvious."

As with her previous arcane admonition, I had no idea what she meant. We changed the subject, talking about my studies and teachers. Kate gave me a rundown on the quirks of the more eccentric personalities I would have to deal with. She paid for the coffee and croissants, flirted with the waiter, and then took off with a breezy and enigmatic "See you tonight."

I went to my lectures, hoping to run into Sabrina during the day. That was not merely a case of blind optimism. I must confess that, since I had a good idea what classes she was taking, I went out of my way to try to make our paths cross. However, it was not to be, and though disappointed, as I returned to my digs late that afternoon I resolved to put her out of my mind and focus on my studies.

Yet I was in for a new revelation.

Adjacent to the Temple is a squat, unprepossessing building which is known simply as the Annexe. It is obviously a low-priced extension of the main structure, lacking its majesty. The entrance was busy, with young women coming and going, including one I recognized from the previous evening. So it didn't take a great deal of insight to grasp that this was the residence for the women of the Temple. Yesterday I had been so wrapped up in my own issues that I missed the fact that my sister was living right next door.

There was a tap on my shoulder and I swung around, hoping irrationally that it was Sabrina, finding Kate.

"Surprised?" she laughed. "Well, I have to go. See you at dinner... and you're welcome."

Puzzled, I went up to my room. There were half a dozen boxes piled up beside my bed.

Ben was almost dressed, putting on a tie. I pointed to my neck with a grimace.

"Yeah, afraid so; and a jacket, if you have one. By the way, some hot chick delivered your stuff."

"My sister," I replied.

"That was your sister?" He stared at me. "Adopted?"

I didn't respond. I showered and dressed.

The dining hall, like the common room, is located adjacent to the foyer, accessed via a wide baroque archway and a passageway lined with dozens of portraits, of both men and women, of various ages, some faces well-known, others not. Filled to capacity, the room could accommodate considerably more than a hundred diners, and it was packed. I had expected that we would have to sit in designated spots -- newcomers at the back, naturally -- but everyone mixed freely, and in fact Ben and I found places near the front.

Many young guys crammed into a limited space make an awful lot of sound. So instead of trying to hold my own in conversation, I checked out my environs.

My prior mental image of a formal dinner in the Temple had been of an Oxford dons' type of affair, with everyone stiffly attired in academic gowns, sipping port and brandy, politely engaged in arcane academic discourse. It was nothing like that. There was none of the ceremony or the formality I had anticipated; and although about half of those gathered did wear ties, the rest were dressed much more casually and there didn't seem to be any concern about that. I cursed Ben for his shoddy research.

Out the front, the head of the Order and his retinue were seated. In the place of honour was a grey-haired gentleman wearing, over his tuxedo, a mantle of the signature scarlet embellished with aureate trimmings. On his right was the Senior Master who, like the other men at the high table, wore the lurid robe without the ornate trappings. To his left sat a solitary woman, good-looking and aged in her late thirties or early forties. In an exquisitely low-cut black dress, she lacked the resplendent vestments of her male companions, but she had an unmistakable air of elegant sophistication. Around her throat was a slim black choker with a rose like that worn by Olivia. Suspended from it were a silver chain and a tiny cruciate sword nestled in her cleavage.

Noting my curiosity, my neighbor on the other side leaned over and informed me, in a barely audible shout, "That's Professor Morton, the Grand Master." I was already well enough acquainted with Templar culture to be aware that the Senior Master and the Grand Master represented the two branches of the Order, the Knights and the Guild. Apart from that, I had no idea at all who Professor Morton was (at the time), although he appeared benevolent enough.

I tried to ask about the woman, but the volume of noise was too great. She did look vaguely familiar. I figured I had seen her face on television. Chatting and laughing with the men on either side, she seemed completely at ease with being the only member of her sex in all of the great hall.

A bell rang, and a hush fell over the room. The Senior Master rose and introduced the Grand Master. He continued with a welcome to the new Knights and a promise of no long-winded speeches (both of which received thunderous applause). After that, there was a brief interlude before an uproar loud enough to be heard above the general din. I turned to see what was happening. A wave of clapping and cheering was spreading from the doorway at the back of the room, out of which our dinner was being brought; and I was not quite sure whether the applause was for the dinner or the servers.

To feed the multitude, there were about twenty young women, all in the generic tiny white dress. A few were wearing chokers of black satiny ribbon. Some had on sandals and others wore heels. There was no discernible pattern apart from the dress itself and the fact that every girl was wearing it with the straps off her shoulders. And amongst the luscious display of legs and décolletage was my sister.

I recalled her "See you tonight." At the time I hadn't given it much thought.

Kate and her comely co-workers tended the tables skilfully, knowing where and when to be if a glass needed filling, or something needed to be fetched, or a spill needed to be mopped up. All were gorgeous; all looked harried and fatigued. It occurred to me that most had already put in a full day of work and study; some had probably come straight from classes. Judging by their expressions as they laid down the plates, none had eaten more than a bite or two before coming on duty. And when they later cleared away the detritus of the main course and began putting out the dessert, I felt more than a twinge of guilt. But I shrugged it off as a cute brunette leaned past me to top up our drinks. Her thigh brushed against my hand which must have moved, because I felt her cool, bare skin quiver, ever so slightly.

"Sorry," she said.

"Not to worry," I lamely replied. I resisted adding "It was my pleasure." (But I had to wonder why she felt the need to apologize -- unless it was for that tiny tremor of aversion to the touch of my hand on her thigh.)

Kate was nearby, like the other girls working her little butt off. Although the exhaustion showed in her face, she never let up. Balancing a tray on one side while setting down plates and bowls, she had to contend with incessant demands for immediate attention. While doing all this, she managed every so often to free one of her hands to hitch up the top of her dress before the neckline plunged into forbidden territory.

All the girls proved to be adept at this, no doubt with many opportunities for practice. What none ever did was restore the shoulder straps to their intended position, so I guessed that off-shoulder was a rule. As I have mentioned, the upper half of the dress was tight enough to show off the wearer's feminine charms but not sufficient to hold it in place without constant attention. So with both hands occupied, it was a never-ending struggle against gravity to prevent décolleté becoming seins nus.

It was hard to keep my eyes off the girls, and for that I felt (again) more than a little sleazy, because as much as I felt sympathy for them, I was heartily enjoying the service and the scenery. However, they were not all that I'd noticed. Once the servers came out, the attention of the lady at the high table was diverted from her conversation; and as she watched the girls quietly and efficiently performing their duties, and struggling with their tiny dresses, her face bore a thoughtful, wistful look -- as when you are not part of something, and on the whole you're glad you're not, but there's a little bit of you that wishes you were. She smiled and nodded at something the fellow to her left said, but didn't take her eyes off the young woman serving their dessert. Then her neighbor, who looked to have had one malt Scotch too many, clamped his hand on her naked shoulder and she cringed, just like the young woman whose thigh I had inadvertently grazed. I may have been the only person in the entire hall who saw it, and she recovered her cool composure in an instant. But I had the impression she was feeling just how more at ease she would be on the other side of the table.

And that got me thinking. All the females I had seen and met so far in the Temple were above-average attractive as well as -- if Kate was any indication -- of well-above-average intelligence. That is, it seemed likely that they had been hand-picked by the Order. It made sense, in a disquieting way (and, of course, I now know it to be the case). There are some twenty thousand women on the campus, and (as sexist and elitist as it sounds and in fact is) the Templars could afford to be selective about those whom they admitted into their ranks. They always had been. Templar graduates (I've learnt) include some very impressive women. If this were five years earlier, the delightful damsel dishing out my gelato di nocciola might be the Olympic champion the country had gone wild over; ten years ago the best-selling author or the award-winning actress; fifteen to twenty years ago one of the country's top business executives or the going-places Cabinet Minister... or perhaps that vaguely familiar woman in the black dress seated at the high table.

Kate was serving coffee near me. Although I could see she was frazzled, to my shame I could not resist the temptation. When she paused for a breather, I snapped my fingers.

"Miss, more water please."

"Yes, Sir."

Okay, I didn't expect a tongue-lashing; but not even a withering stare? She actually called me "Sir" -- my sister, the pocket-sized harridan who had babied and bossed and bullied and bashed her little brother for so many years. (Okay, she never bashed and rarely bullied me, especially once I had grown bigger than her; but I need to somehow rationalize my despicable conduct.)

She had not looked up before she said it, so I could not be sure if she'd actually realized it was me. Even if she had, it was impossible to know if she was being serious or sarcastic. And yes, I do tend to overanalyze; but when it's a Kate situation that's my survival instinct working. She meekly fetched the water jug and filled my glass, twitching as the character next to me prodded her backside, perhaps accidentally, perhaps not. Apprehensively I looked into her face. Her lips remained clamped, but the corners of her mouth wrinkled into the faint trace of a smile.

Coffee time was the occasion for the traditional "few words to express our appreciation." The Senior Master thanked the Grand Master and the esteemed guests for their attendance, and us Knights for a first-rate turnout. The Grand Master proffered thanks for the hospitality and the splendid repast. Then, as he was about to finish up, the woman seated beside him nudged his arm. It was a subtle gesture which I observed because I was looking straight at her (not really staring but rather still trying to put a name to the face). He showed a trace of aggravation as he added, "And we must not forget the Maidens, who have prepared and served this excellent feast." The scattered applause quickly swelled into a genuine ovation. It was such a pity that the girls were not around to hear it. They had already returned to the kitchen.

We emptied the hall around ten o'clock. On each residential floor beer and bull sessions went on for a couple of hours. I stayed awhile but went to bed feeling sympathy for Kate, and some remorse. As I was retiring for the night, she and her sisters still had a heap of work to do downstairs, clearing, cleaning and washing up. But I did not think about it for too long. Tomorrow was a big day. I would be presenting my first seminar paper.