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they too, turned away from the tomb.
Li Tsao and her two personal physicians ap-proached the casket. She stood by
idly, enjoying the strengthening warmth of the fall sun as it neared midday.
The two healers opened the lid of the teak casket, exposing Casca to the sky.
His head was on silk pillows and his bindings concealed by robes of honor.
Only the silken gag was visible, appearing to be more of a covering for his
lower face than any-thing else.
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Waving the physicians away, Li Tsao moved with the grace of a temple dancer,
her small delicate body swaying slightly with each tiny step, her fan of
thinnest ivory sheaves making gentle breezes.
Casca s eyes were closed. Li Tsao leaned over, her brown eyes taking in the
face of one who had denied her the right to eternal youth. She was beautiful
still, but time s insidious advance could not be stopped forever. One day the
artful use of cosmetics would no longer be able to hide the small lines now
making their slow but sure appearance on her ivory skin, marring the once
perfect beauty.
Snapping her fingers, an attendant approached bringing an object wrapped in
white silk. Taking it from him and then waving a hand of dismissal, she laid
the silken package on the chest of Casca.
 Barbarian, do you hear me? Taking his cheek between her lacquered nails she
twisted once, and then again, leaving a bloody trickle running down his face.
Casca s eyes opened slowly, blurred from the drug-induced sleep. He tried to
focus with dif-ficulty.  Good, Barbarian, I have brought you something,
she patted the silk package.  In here is your sword. You may need it to fight
your way through the demons of darkness. I felt much for you, but you rejected
me and this cannot go un-punished, but for the feelings and the life we might
have had eternally young, I leave you your weap-on. Her face swam above him
as she leaned over and kissed him long and full on the mouth, her tongue
darting like a serpent. She kissed him as she would one she loved long and
full, as if in this final kiss she was trying to draw off the essence that
made him what he was. Placing her fingers over his face, she closed his eyes,
her voice lilting and sweet she whispered,  Sleep the long sleep of eternity.
Darkness closed in again as the lid of his coffin was closed and even the thin
glow of light from the sun through his shut lids was terminated. The slaves
lowered Casca into the rock tomb that would be his home for the ages.
Straining, they needed the help of twenty guards to place the massive slab on
top.
They bowed their way back from the tomb, out of sight. This was the business
of those above them as they were above the vermin that crawled in the bowels
of the earth.
One by one, the soldiers made obeisance and lit sticks of incense for the
deceased and laid them on the small stone altar where the incense burned. The
priests began their death chant in earnest, nasally whining paeans to the dark
spirits to let the trav-eler through safely to join his ancestors. The
mourners the best that money could buy and completely devoted to their
occupation took their cue and began to wail as if a child had been torn away
from them. With undulating cries of grief and sorrow, they pitched themselves
into ever greater expressions of grief, slashing their faces with their
fingernails and tearing their clothes into shreds to the syncopation of the
gongs and flutes until they lay exhausted upon the ground in a sobbing mass of
genuine bereavement.
Thus, Casca was buried.
The procession re-formed itself and left quietly with dignity. The Lady Li
Tsao being well-pleased made a mental note to use the same mourners when the
Emperor died. Calling her attendant, she asked to which guild they belonged.
Casca awoke, the effects of the opiate having worn off; most men would have
been unconscious for at least a full day and night. The procession had not yet
reached the outskirts of the sacred city when the terror came over him. Unable
to move his arms, the darkness enveloped him like some horrible placenta.
 No! he screamed through muffled lips.  No!
The terror of being buried alive washed over him. The same desperate fear he
had felt as a slave in the mines of Greece returned. To be buried alive,
un-able to die. How long would the darkness last... one year . . . five ... a
hundred or for eternity?
He cried out through his gag, his mouth working at the bindings. He beat his
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head against the silken pillows in anguish.  Alive, the bitch has buried me
alive. The horror settled on him giving vent to an icy chill that came from
the surface of his skin, deep into his bones.  Alive, for how long? How can I
find the
Jew if I m buried here forever. Casca s efforts to free himself slackened. He
felt heavy, his arms and legs like lead appendages, his chest aching for air.
The darkness came again, his eyes closed once more and the deep chill faded.
Casca was still, his body unmoving. Then a tiny move-ment in the great vein of
his neck. Minutes passed . . . then another quick twitch of the large vein.
Once every twenty minutes his pulse beat and every forty minutes his chest
would move slowly, taking a shallow breath. His system came to an almost
com-plete halt. Like the great bears of the ice moun-tains, Casca slept.
The years passed, the business of the kingdom went on, babes were born, old
men died and wars were fought. Occasionally a bundle of fresh incense would be
lit at his grave by one with whom he had soldiered. Bowls of rice to feed his
spirit were set with honor. The birds and rats appreciated the of-ferings.
Occasionally one of the great plates of the earth shifted and tremors came to
the surface as mi-nor quakes, not severe or uncommon in this land. To the
peasant, this was accepted like the seasons
 some were good and some were bad but all were part of their life.
Casca s tomb cracked open at the north seam, let-, ting in a tiny amount of
air; not much, but enough for the sleeping one inside. With the crack came
others. Smaller vermin and insects made homes in the robes of silk, families
grew in the beard and chest hair of the sleeper. His hair still grew and in
the growth were many colonies of worms, seeking the warmer spots in his
armpits a small family of vipers chose the place between his crotch for their
own. The insects and a minute amount of moisture weakened the fabric of the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]