The Burning Road by Harry Sidebottom

Author:Harry Sidebottom [Sidebottom, Harry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zaffre Publishing

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘T

HERE IS ALWAYS A WAY ROUND,’ BALLISTA SAID.

The five horsemen were riding north-east up through the foothills towards Etna. They had left Centuripae at dawn. In November there were only nine and a half hours of daylight. It was necessary to cover as much ground as possible before evening.

The land here was close-set with vines. In small clearings were beehives, their occupants cloistered for the winter. Here and there were strips of clover and saffron and various herbs. The volcanic soil was fertile, and it was a well cultivated landscape. Yet the riders seldom saw its workers. Instead, plumes of smoke, dotted across the valleys, indicated the bonfires where they were burning the season’s vine trimmings. The handful of people they sighted watched them pass without comment. The labourers were all alike, clad in rough hooded work cloaks, and with clogs on their feet. All were silent and equally watchful. Men on horses often spelled trouble. The appearance of the rustics gave no indication of their status. Some would be peasants, proprietors of a few iugera, others tenants or sharecroppers of big estates, and the rest would be slaves. All except the latter would have the three names of a citizen of Rome. They might be poor, but they possessed all the rights and pride that citizenship entailed. The slaves, on the other hand, had nothing. To many of their owners they were little more than beasts of burden, animals with voices. Ballista wondered how many of these animals might aspire to regain their humanity, might answer the siren call of Soter the Syrian wonder-worker, and the messianic promises he held out to the rebels.

The horsemen forded an upland stream. Its green waters were fast and shallow and foamed white over the rocks. Coming out of its declivity, they saw Etna ahead. The day was overcast and cold. It was still in the foothills, but above a north wind pulled away the isolated column of smoke from the ever-active volcano.

In the milder months, the inhabitants of Centuripae made money guiding sightseers to Etna. Many visitors liked to watch the sunrise from the summit. Through the smoke, its rays shone many-hued, like a rainbow. The guides told them the story of Empedocles. So that he might be thought a god, the philosopher wished the manner of his death to be unknown. Empedocles threw himself into the fires of the crater. But his plan was undone when the volcano spewed out one of his sandals. Likewise, they enacted solemn rituals for them. If the mountain accepted their offerings the omens were good, but if it rejected them, cast them out like Empedocles’ sandal, the portent could not be more dire. Unsurprisingly, Ballista had never heard of the omens being bad.

Aulus had instructed one of his men to show them the path to the upper slopes. His son had wanted to come, too. They would take the horses back down the mountain when the going got too tough. Of course, Ballista had

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.