The Last Cato by Matilde Asensi

Author:Matilde Asensi [Asensi, Matilde]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw
Tags: Alexandria, Ravenna, fascinatingl, Buzzonetti, Ramondino, Restoration, tortoiseshell, Rome, Laboratory, Constantinople, Paleography
Published: 2013-08-13T05:00:00+00:00

We had no more cold coffee in the Thermos, no water in the canteen, no salami and cheese sandwiches in the backpack. We had nothing, except our wounds, exhaustion, and creaking joints. We couldn’t even stay warm with the survival blankets, because they’d been shredded the day before in our trek around the labirynth. As the sun rose in the sky, I said to myself that if God didn’t help us get out of there, we would most certainly end up like the numerous Staurofilakes aspirants who’d failed.

Despite appearances, I realized our situation hadn’t changed much from when we were in the circle of the moon. While there, we were forced to stay on the outlined path of that vegetal jail. Here—in this seemingly free, diaphanous center—all we could do was solve the problem of the anvil and the hammers. It was that simple.

“We have to move around,” murmured Farag, still sleepy.

I wanted to turn and look at him. With an iron will, I lowered my head and resisted a foolish need to cry. I was starting to get sick of my childish emotions.

Glauser-Röist got to his feet and did some jumping jacks to get the blood flowing. I didn’t move an inch.

“Call room service and have them send up a big breakfast.”

“I want a steaming hot espresso and a chocolate biscotto,” I begged, my palms pressed together.

“What do you say we get to work?”The Rock cut us short, his arms behind his head. He looked like he was trying to pull his head out by the root.

“Let’s forge a sculpture with the iron hammers,” I joked.

The captain stood right in front of them, totally focused. Then he crouched down. At that point, I lost sight of him because he was hidden behind the anvil. Farag sat up to watch him, then he finally stood up and walked toward him.

“Find anything, Kaspar?” he asked. The Rock got to his feet and I could see the upper half of his body again. He had a hammer in his hand.

“Nothing special. They’re just regular hammers,” he said, hefting the tool. “Some have been used and others haven’t. There are big ones, little ones, and medium-size ones. But there doesn’t seem to be anything extraordinary about them.”

Farag jumped up immediately, carrying one of those iron mallets. He raised it in the air, flipped it, threw it up, and caught it with ease.

“Nothing extraordinary, indeed,” he lamented. Then he stepped up to the anvil and struck it. The sound boomed like a huge bell in the forest. We froze, but the birds didn’t. Flocks of them flew away, squawking from the highest treetops. Seconds later, when the clamor stopped, none of us dared move, still alarmed by what had happened, frozen like statues.

“Lord…,” I babbled, blinking nervously and swallowing hard.

The Rock let out a huge laugh. “Well, that was extraordinary, Professor.”

But Farag wasn’t laughing. He was serious and expressionless. Without saying a word, he turned around and snatched the hammer out of the captain’s hands.

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