A Promise of Ankles by Alexander McCall Smith

A Promise of Ankles by Alexander McCall Smith

Author:Alexander McCall Smith [McCall Smith, Alexander]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780349144702
Google: 2AEAEAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2020-11-05T00:00:00+00:00


36

A Speluncean Entrance

From the junction of Gloucester Place and Doune Terrace, the road dropped precipitously the short distance down to Stockbridge. Within a few minutes Angus and James were down by the banks of the Water of Leith, the river that runs from its Pentland source to the basin at the port of Leith. It is not a deep river, but it is a fairly fast-moving one, and when there has been heavy rainfall it has its share of tiny rapids where it dances with boyish enthusiasm. For the most part, it is a well-behaved river, rarely breaking its banks and never stagnating. Its water is clear, as it has a relatively short journey from the hills and its banks are unburdened by industry.

A short walk beside the river brought them to St Bernard’s Well, a stone temple erected at the end of the eighteenth century, complete with small pump-room for the taking of the waters, and presided over by a statue of the goddess, Hygeia.

As he bent down to release Cyril from his leash, Angus looked up at the goddess, who was standing in assured pose beside a column around which a snake had been entwined. “I assume that she got the snake from her father,” he said. “She was the daughter of Asclepius, wasn’t she?”

James nodded. “She was. As I recall, she had a number of sisters, including Panacea, who was in charge of remedies for everything…”

“Broad-spectrum antibiotics,” said Angus.

“Yes. And another sister was Aglaea, who was goddess of beauty and adornment.”

“Probably the less serious sister,” suggested Angus, tucking Cyril’s lead into the pocket of his jacket. “There’s always one. Asclepius, of course, came to a sticky end, did he not? Hades had taken a dim view of the number of people he was bringing back to life. That rather defeated the point of dying, he thought. He persuaded Zeus to remove Asclepius with a bolt of lightning.”

“Zeus needed no encouragement to do that sort of thing,” said James.

Angus looked thoughtful. “Imagine living under gods who were quite so prone to temper tantrums. We’re so used to a belief in the benign: a benign deity, a benign government, a benign system of justice. Imagine if we had none of that – if we felt at the mercy of the irrational and the malignant. Imagine if we felt that those in authority actually hated us.”

James shrugged. “Plenty of people have had to live like that.”

“I suppose so,” Angus conceded. “And still do, if one thinks about it. There’s no shortage of people who are oppressed by their own government. Minorities of one sort or another. It’s a familiar story, isn’t it?’

“Yes. And a bleak one.”

Angus watched Cyril race along the path. He called out to him, and the dog stopped and came trotting back towards him.

“How obedient,” said James.

“Well brought up,” said Angus. “Dogs need to be disciplined. They’re pack animals who instinctively need a leader.” He pointed at his chest. “Me, in Cyril’s case. I suppose he thinks of me as Zeus – in a way.



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