The Gladiator - Scarrow Simon (бесплатная регистрация книга txt) 📗

43

Cato forced himself to smile back. 'I know. I pity any man who would try and cross him.'

They rode away from the city following the Gortyna road over rolling hills, where they passed further scenes of destruction caused by the earthquake. Many more villas, farms and roadside shrines had been toppled and were now no more than heaps of bricks, tiles and timber. The survivors had dragged out the injured and some of the bodies, which lay in makeshift shrouds waiting for burial or cremation. The living stared at the passing horsemen with gaunt expressions of horror and numbed shock, and Cato felt guilty as he followed Sempronius and tried to ignore the suffering that stretched out mile after mile along the road to Gortyna.

As dusk settled, Sempronius gave the order to stop and rest the horses at the edge of a small village. Not one house had survived and there was a dreadful stillness in the gathering gloom as figures huddled in whatever shelter they could find for the night. There were no cries of grief, and no moans from the wounded. The only sound was a light sobbing from the remains of a small farm close by. Cato tethered his horse to the stump of a tree and made his way over towards the source of the crying.

'Cato, ' Sempronius called softly. 'Don't go far.'

Cato nodded and continued forward cautiously. In the gloom he could make out the line of a fallen wall and tiles scattered across the ground. The sound came more clearly. Crouching down close to the blocks of stone that made up the wall, he saw a flicker of movement beneath some of the tiles close by. He leaned forward and carefully removed the nearest tile. There was a startled cry, and Cato saw the top half of a small child, no more than two years old, lying on its back. The child was naked and the puffy pale flesh was smeared with grime and blood. The tile had struck its head, gouging. a patch of scalp away, and a tacky black mass of dried blood and matted hair covered one side. The child's eyes were open, and wide blue eyes gazed intently at Cato as the whimpering continued.

'You're all right, ' Cato said gently. 'Shhh, you're all right.'

He cleared the debris away from the exposed half of the child's body and then saw that a large slab of stone lay just below the waist, covering the legs. He took hold of the edges of the stone and eased it up now able to see that the child was male. As the pressure came off the boy's pelvis and legs he screamed, a shrill, piercing cry of agony. Cato flung the stone aside and took the boy's hand.

'There, it's gone. Hush now. Shhh.' He glanced down, and at once a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. The stone had crushed the boy from the waist down, shattering bones and laying open the delicate flesh. The thin shafts of the shin bones spiked out from the skin where the legs had been violently broken.

The boy let out a scream and suddenly started shuddering violently. Cato hurriedly undid the clasp of his cloak and covered the child, tucking one end under his head to act as a pillow. All the time the boy's tiny hand clasped Cato's fingers with surprising strength, until the screaming died away and he lay, staring at Cato, shuddering as he drew breaths in ragged gasps. There was a crunch of boots on the rubble close by and Cato glanced up to see Sempronius, who had come to investigate the screaming.

'What's that you have there?'

'A boy' Cato shuffled aside so that the senator could see.' He was caught by this wall when it fell.'

'How is he?'

Cato swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and felt his throat contract. He cleared it harshly before he could reply. 'His legs are broken.'

'I see... Will he live?'

For a moment Cato was silent. He wanted to say that the boy would live and could be saved. But it was a lie. Even if, by some miracle, he survived, he would spend the rest of his days as a cripple.

No one had come to rescue him and Cato glanced at the ruins of the house beyond the fallen wall, where no doubt the rest of his family lay buried under the rubble. He looked down at the child, and forced himself to smile as he quietly replied to the senator.

'I doubt he will survive another night if we leave him here, sir. It's a miracle he's still alive. He might live, if we can find some one to take care of him. The surgeon of the Twelfth Hispania might save him, but only at the cost of his legs.'

Sempronius glanced at Cato with narrowed eyes and then said deliberately, 'Too bad we can't take him back to Matala.'

45

'Why not? It's only two hours down the road.'

'Two hours there, two hours back, more like three once we start riding in the dark. I'm sorry, Cato, but we can't afford to return to Matala. We have to press on.'

'Why?' Cato stared up at Sempronius. 'We should do what we can for him first.'

'There isn't time. Now leave him and let's go.'

'Leave him?' Cato shook his head. 'Like this? He wouldn't have a chance.'

'He doesn't have much of a chance as it is. You said so yourself.'

Cato was still holding the boy's hand. He bit his lip.' No. I can't leave him, sir. It's not right.'

Sempronius took a deep breath.' Centurion Cato, it's not a question of right or wrong. I'm giving you an order.'

There was a tense silence as the two men stared at each other.

Then the child groaned slightly and Cato looked down and stroked the boy's fine hair with his spare hand. 'Easy now, lad. Easy.'

'Cato, ' Sempronius continued in a gentle tone, 'we have to go on.

We have to get to Gortyna as soon as possible. We have to do what we can to restore order, to help people and to save lives. There's not much we can dofor this one. And if we lost the best part of a day by taking him back to Matala, then other lives might be put at risk as a result.'

'They might be, ' Cato replied.' Who can say for certain? But if we abandon this boy now, then we can be sure he will die, cold and alone.'

'Perhaps, perhaps not. He might be saved by some one.'

'Do you really believe that?'

'Do you really believe that a delay would not put lives at risk in Gortyna?' Sempronius countered.

Cato frowned, torn by the truth of the senator's words, and his own moral compulsion to do what he could to save the boy. He decided to try another tack. 'What if this was Julia? Would you still say we should go on?'

'But it isn't Julia, fortunately. Now, Cato, my boy, please see reason.

You're an officer, with wider obligations to your duty, to your empire. I'm sure you have had to leave badly wounded men behind you on campaign. This boy is a casualty, and one you can do nothing for. Why, I dare say that the slightest movement would be the most terrible agony. Would you really put him through the torment of a ride back to Matala? Only for him to die there? It is kindest to leave him-' Sempronius laid his hand on Cato's shoulder and squeezed gently. 'Believe me... Now we have to go. Come.'

Cato felt a bitter pain in his throat as he fought to accept Sempronius's argument. Whatever his heart said, he had responsibilities to others, many others. He tore his eyes away from the boy's face and released his tender hold on the small hand. At once the fingers scrabbled and grasped at Cato's as the boy's eyes stared in terror. Cato hurriedly stood up and backed away, pulling his hand free.

'Come.' Sempronius drew him away, towards the tethered horses.

'No time to waste.'

As Cato turned and followed the senator, a shrill, keening cry of panic and terror split the dusk and pierced his young heart like a javelin. He felt that he wanted to be sick, that he was a cold, inhuman creature who had forsaken any claim to those qualities that defined a good man.

'We have to go.' Sempronius raised his voice, grasping Cato's arm and pulling him firmly away from the intensifying cries of the small boy. 'Get on your horse and let's be away. Don't forget what I said. Others need you.'