One

Invictus was in his library reading the "Metaphysics" of Aristoteles. The aroma of brewed Batangas coffee filled the room... Mozart's piano playing softly from a stereo component unseen by the eyes, yet heard distinctly. Quiet and concentrated, he was puffing on his favorite pipe when his dogs suddenly gave alarm. He carefully closed the thick book, the only original copy in South East Asia as of this writing, and slowly stood up from his old, yet still comfortable brown leather couch. He walked through the hallway and opened the door leading to the brick pathway at the front of his cottage where five big black Czech Shepherds (Adora, Silvia, Ingrid, Josephine, Rosita) were barking and snarling at the stranger by the gate. Only by foot can one reach Invictus' cottage. About 100 meters lie between the wide garage of his lot and the small front gate of his cottage, a narrow pathway for two persons walking side by side being the only way to him. An idea of his to preserve his so much cherished solitude.

Invictus: "Agustin! How wonderful to see you again! But you are without company. Where are the others?"

The old man was expecting a number of former students who wanted to pay him a visit after more than three decades. He received a fax around two weeks ago.

Agustin: "Greetings, Sir Invictus! A pleasure and an honor to be with my former mentor once more! You are looking good, sir. Really! After more than three decades, you seem to be in good health again. Always recovering from battles against illness! ... The others will be a bit late. I gathered that there was a change of flight schedule for those who will be arriving from abroad. My trip from the South was great! The plane took off and landed right on time. Sir... your dogs... they're not fond of people, are they?"

Invictus: "No, they aren't. Definitely not. They are quite wary of strangers. It's their training. Seldom do I have visitors here. And if ever, it is their duty to watch, guard and protect. Wait... I'll call them off: 'Kommt! Platz! Bleibt!'"

The dogs immediately went to him, took their positions, and stayed put. Even as the old man opened the gate to let his visitor in, they didn't move an inch. Agustin was nervously looking at them while his former professor escorted him to the cottage.

Invictus: "Don't worry, son. They had their breakfast already".

Agustin: "Oh... that's a great consolation, sir!!! Haven't lost your stinging sense of humor, have you?"

Invictus: "Go and freshen up while I prepare a nasty chilly soup and garlic bread for you. The guest room is right beside the living room".

Agustin: "Sir, I really admire how you preserved your vehicles. I saw them in the garage. Wow, two decades ago, they looked like that already! But after all these years... who kept them like that? Your van... your off-road wagon... your 150cc scooter... your 400cc cruiser... the colors and the shine... brilliant! The big pick-up and the 750cc chopper, I don't recognize; the sports car and the limousine, too. Must be recent acquisitions, huh?"

Invictus: "I learned how to maintain and even paint vehicles as well as furniture and appliances, Agustin. That's how I take my mind off from the brain-work that only a few realize as a real drain-out".

Looking forward to Invictus' promised snack, Agustin went inside and took a quick look at the house before he went to the guest room. He marveled at the way the big cottage was built: practically everything in wood! Pure, beautiful, solid mahogany wood! It seemed to him as if the house were alive and breathing.

After taking a quick shower, he unpacked his things. While putting on fresh and comfortable clothes, he noticed someone outside the window... he went nearer and saw a boy of around seven years standing a meter away from the pane, intently looking at him, not smiling, yet not unfriendly. Agustin smiled and waved at the boy while reaching out for the latch to open the window. As soon as it opened, the boy was gone. Agustin stretched out his head outside, looking left and right, but nothing there except the green grass, a big wooden kamagong table and chairs for about ten people, various types of gumamela and rose bushes surrounding the table area, a few jack fruit and mango trees on the west side of the cottage, a magnificent acacia tree about two hundred meters away... but no boy. He wasn't aware that Invictus had a boy this age, nor was he aware of any house companion. He knew his mentor too well - a loner... an individualist... a man who prefers to be with his dogs and books than to mingle with others.

Closing the window behind him, he noticed the wall paintings and books in the room: Vincent van Gogh all over! The 4 volumes of 'Sacramentum Mundi' in German and the original 10 volumes of 'Lexikon für Theologie und Kirche' were on the beautifully carved shelves beside a massive reading table with matching chairs and purple seat cushions. A 150-year-old exemplar of Miguel de Cervantes' 'Don Quixote de la Mancha' was beside Jose Rizal Mercado's 'Noli Me Tangere' and 'El Filibusterismo' - all in Spanish. Karl Rahner's 'Schriften zur Theologie und Kirche' stood proudly before the beholder. So were Thomas Aquinas' 'Summa Theologiae and Summa Contra Gentiles', all in original Latin. He looked back towards the bed and noticed that on the headboard were more books. Looking closely, a whole row of Gustavo Gutierrez books were lined up there - 30 or more of them - in English, Spanish, German, Italian and French. "I always thought Invictus liked Gutierrez more than any other non-European theologian", thought Agustin, "but where are the other Latin American writers? He met practically all of them personally and wrote extensively on their theories. Where are they?"

On the night table at the right side were only these things: The Holy Scriptures bound in leather, and a golden Square and Compass on top of it. On the left night table were a wireless phone, a two-way radio, and an eight-inch blue and white figurine of an owl. Two 19th-century-style lamps were artistically integrated on both ends of the headboard.

A black stereo set was at the far corner of the room. It was then that he noticed that 4 black speakers were facing the bed from all four corners. He took a quick glance at the compact discs: Mozart, Beethoven, Bach, Vivaldi, Schubert, Chopin, Strauß, Schumann, Rachmaninoff, Pavarotti, Domingo, Carreras, and... Led Zeppelin! He stared at the other compact discs... Deep Purple, Santana, Joe Cocker, Rolling Stones, Doobie Brothers, Queen, Kiss, Bachmann Turner Overdrive, Rare Earth, and Juan dela Cruz Band!!! "Now, this side of The Professor, I definitely did not know!", he said to himself.

Near the door was an elegant, dark-wood mini-bar with obviously European glasses for all kinds of drinks. He opened the fridge and saw different brands of bottled beer, whereby half of them were San Miguel Pale Pilsen. But... something was missing. He knows Invictus quite well. He looked closer... ah, yes, the dark beer bottles were there! Guinness and the local Cerveza Negra. Closing the ref, he took a look at the bottles on the shelves: a row of red wines (noticeably all French), brandies, whiskeys, vodkas, and a five-gallon jug of the native lambanog. And not a single bottle of white wine or those colorful liquors! Again, very typical of Invictus, thought Agustin. He remembered how The Professor confided to him that white wine gives him headaches and that sweet liquors make him sick.

He left the room and walked towards the kitchen from where he smelled the aroma of native spices and boiled beans. Invictus was singing a familiar old song: John Lennon's 'Imagine'. "Yes", thought Agustin, "I miss his folk songs and ballads with he himself playing the guitar".