Roma - Saylor Steven - Страница 11

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The ox-driver staggered to his feet. He watched the creature pull the shard of wood from his bleeding flesh and cast it aside. For a moment he thought the creature might flee. Instead, Cacus hurtled toward him and knocked him to the ground. The ox-driver managed to wriggle free and scamper back to his feet. A short distance away, amid the high grass, he saw a stone the size of newborn ox, and ran toward it. He surprised even himself when he lifted the stone over his head. He hurled it toward the pursuing Cacus.

Cacus managed to dodge the stone, but only barely; it grazed his shoulder and sent him reeling. Enraged, he picked up an even larger stone and hurled it. The ox-driver dove to one side. The stone struck a towering oak tree and shattered the trunk. The whole tree came crashing to the ground.

Amid a din of creaking and cracking, a host of shrieking birds took flight, and then all was still. The ox-driver struggled to catch his breath. The creature was nowhere to be seen. Had he fled? Was he pinned beneath the branches of the tree? For an instant the ox-driver let down his guard—then he caught a whiff of the creature’s stench, and heard the buzzing of flies. He whirled about, and in the next instant felt two hands grip his throat.

Spots swam before his eyes. The meadow grew dim, as if night had suddenly fallen. His head seemed to swell like a bloated wineskin, until he felt sure it would burst.

His struggled to pry Cacus’s hands from his throat. The creature’s grip was unshakable. The ox-driver sought desperately to gain a purchase with his fingertips, and at last managed to grasp one of Cacus’s fingers and slowly bend it backward. He heard the finger snap, and was sickened by the noise, but Cacus held fast. He broke another finger, on the creature’s other hand, and another. As a fourth finger snapped, Cacus gave an unearthly scream and relented. His grip was broken.

Before Cacus could escape, the ox-driver deftly slipped behind him and caught the creature’s neck in the vise of his elbow. With his other hand he gripped his wrist, tightening the vise. Cacus struggled to draw a breath, but could not. Nor could he wrench the arm away from his throat, for his fingers were broken, his hands useless.

Mustering all his remaining strength, the ox-driver wrenched the creature’s head to one side and gave it a hard twist. Cacus’s neck was broken. He thrashed and convulsed. The huge weight of his body slipped from the ox-driver’s grasp. He tumbled to the ground with his head cocked at an impossible angle and his limbs akimbo.

Utterly exhausted, the ox-driver dropped to his knees, fighting back nausea and gasping for breath. His vision was blurred. Flies buzzed in his ears.

The dog, wide awake now, suddenly arrived at a gallop, barking ferociously and baring his fangs at the sight of the corpse. He pounced atop the limp body of Cacus, stood stiffly upright, perked his ears, and alerted the people of the ruma with a long howl of triumph.

In feverish glimpses, Potitia had witnessed the entire struggle.

When the stranger’s challenge drew Cacus’s attention, she had managed to scramble to her feet and to flee. Stumbling and staggering, she repeatedly looked back. It seemed to her that she saw not two men but two entities greater than human engaged in a fight to the death. She felt the earth shake beneath their stamping feet. She saw them lift stones that no mortal could lift. She saw a great tree fall to the ground, destroyed by their combat. She saw Cacus fall dead, and the ox-driver drop to his knees.

In a daze, she made her way to river. No matter how vigorously she scrubbed her flesh, rubbing until it was red and raw, the stench of the monster clung to her.

When she staggered back to the settlement, no one remarked on the smell. Indeed, they took no notice of her. Learning of the monster’s demise, the ecstatic settlers had circled the ox-driver and were loudly praising him, shyly touching him, trying to lift him onto their shoulders and laughing when he proved to be too big and heavy.

No one realized what had happened to Potitia except the ox-driver, who shot her a look of mingled relief and remorse. She herself said nothing about it, not even to her father.

The body of Cacus was dragged a great distance from the settlement. Repeatedly, vultures tried to land upon it. The people drove them off, until the ox-driver made it clear that they should desist and allow the vultures to snatch whatever delicacies they could. When the vultures flew off with Cacus’s eyes and tongue, the ox-driver applauded them.

“It seems the fellow has a high regard for vultures,” noted Potitius. “And why not? Whenever he sees a vulture, it’s probably because another of his enemies is dead!”

Satisfied that the vultures had been propitiated, the people pelted the corpse of Cacus with stones, then set it aflame. A wind from the southwest carried the foul smoke high into the air and away from the ruma. The numina of fire and air were seen to be in accord with the people, who could only hope, with the monster’s baleful influence removed, that the other numina of the region would again show kindness and favor to them.

That night, there was rejoicing in the settlement. The ox that had been killed by Cacus was butchered. The flesh was roasted for a great feast in honor of the stranger who had delivered them. His hunger was voracious; he ate everything they set before him.

Potitius felt moved to make a speech. “Nothing so terrible as the coming of the monster has ever occurred in living memory. Nothing so wonderful has ever occurred as the monster’s destruction. We were on the verge of abandoning this place in despair.” Here he looked sidelong at his cousin Pinarius. “Then we were saved by an occurrence which none of us possibly could have foreseen—the arrival of a stranger who was every bit a match for the monster. This is a sign that we were meant to reside always in the land of the ruma. Whatever happens, we must have faith that ours is a special destiny. Even in our darkest moments, we must remember that we are guarded by friendly numina of great power.”

Wine had always been a rare and precious commodity in the settlement; it had become even more so after the traders stopped coming. Still, the store that remained, mixed with water, was enough to provide a serving to everyone at the feast, with extra portions—unwatered and as much as he could drink, which proved to be a great quantity—for the ox-driver. Encouraged by raucous laughter and shouting, he repeatedly mimed his battle with Cacus, laughing and stumbling around the roasting pit until at last he lay down exhausted and fell into a deep sleep.

The settlers were drunk and stuffed with food. Many had not enjoyed a proper sleep since the coming of Cacus, and they happily followed the stranger into the land of dreams.

All slept—except Potitia, who feared that sleep would bring only nightmares.

She found a spot to herself, away from the others, and lay on a woolen mat beneath the stars. The night was warm and lit by a bright moon. On such a night, when she was girl, she might have climbed up to her cave and slept there, safe and secluded. That could never happen again. The monster had ruined the cave and her memories of it forever.

Potitia hugged herself and wept—then gave a start when she sensed the presence of another. She smelled his breath, heavy with wine. His massive silhouette blocked the moon. She shuddered, but when he knelt and touched her gently, she stopped sobbing. He stroked her brow. He kissed the tears that ran down her cheeks.

He loomed over her, as Cacus had loomed, yet was different in every way. The smell of his body was strong but pleasing to her. Cacus had been brutal and demanding, but the ox-driver’s touch was gentle and soothing. Cacus had caused her pain, but the stranger’s touch brought only pleasure. When he drew back, fearful that his sheer bulk might overwhelm her, she gripped him like a child might grip a parent and pulled him closer to her.

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