pdouglas.thecodex-第54部分

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　〃Wait；〃　said　Borabay。
　A　toothless　old　woman　soon　emerged　from　one　of　the　huts；　bent　double　from　age；　leaning　on　a　stick；　her　short　white　hair　made　her　look　like　a　witch。　She　made　her　way　toward　them　with　excruciating　slowness；　her　beady　eyes　never　leaving　their　faces；　sucking　on　her　lips　and　muttering　to　herself。　She　finally　arrived　in　front　of　Tom　and　peered　up　at　him。
　Borabay　said　quietly；　〃Do　nothing。〃
　She　raised　a　withered　hand　and　gave　Tom　a　blow　across　the　knees；　then　whacked　him　across　the　thighs；　once；　twice；　three　times…surprisingly　painful　blows　for　an　old　lady…all　the　while　muttering　to　herself。　She　then　raised　her　stick　and　struck　him　across　the　shins　and　again　on　the　buttocks。　She　dropped　the　stick　and　reached　up　and　groped　him　obscenely　between　his　legs。　Tom　swallowed　and　tried　not　to　flinch　as　she　made　a　thorough　check　of　his　masculinity。　Then　she　reached　up　toward　Tom's　head；　making　a　motion　with　her　fingers。　Tom　bent　slightly；　and　she　grabbed　his　hair　and　gave　such　a　yank　that　tears　sprang　to　his　eyes。
　She　stepped　back；　the　inspection　apparently　plete。　She　gave　him　a　toothless　smile　and　spoke　at　length。
　Borabay　translated。　〃She　say　contrary　to　appearance　you　are　definitely　a　man。　She　invite　you　and　your　brothers　stay　in　village　as　guest　of　the　Tara　people。　She　accept　your　help　for　fight　against　bad　men　in　White　City。　She　say　now　you　in　charge。〃
　〃Who　is　she？〃　Tom　glanced　at　her。　She　was　peering　up　and　down；　examining　him　from　head　to　toe。
　〃She　is　wife　of　Cah。　Look　out；　Tom；　she　like　you。　Maybe　she　e　to　your　hut　tonight。〃
　It　broke　the　tension；　and　they　all　laughed；　Philip　most　of　all。
　〃What　am　I　in　charge　of？〃　Tom　asked。
　Borabay　looked　at　him。　〃You　now　war　chief。〃
　Tom　was　stunned。　〃How　can　that　be？　I've　been　here　ten　minutes。〃
　〃She　say　Tara　warriors　fail　in　attack　against　white　man　and　many　killed。　You　white　man；　too；　maybe　you　understand　enemy　better。　Tomorrow；　you　lead　fight　against　bad　men。〃
　〃Tomorrow？〃　Tom　said。　〃Thanks；　really；　but　I　decline　the　responsibility。〃
　〃You　not　have　choice；〃　said　Borabay。　〃She　say　if　you　do　not；　Tara　warriors　kill　us　all。〃
　
　That　night　the　villagers　lit　a　bonfire；　and　a　party　of　sorts　got　under　way；　starting　with　a　multicourse　feast；　which　arrived　on　leaves；　culminating　in　a　tapir　roasted　in　a　pit。　The　men　danced　and　then　gave　a　hauntingly　strange　orchestral　performance　on　flutes；　led　by　Borabay。　Everyone　went　to　bed　late。　Borabay　roused　them　a　few　hours　later。　It　was　still　dark。
　〃We　go　now。　You　speak　to　people。〃
　Tom　stared　at　him。　〃I　have　to　give　a　speech？〃
　〃I　help　you。〃
　〃This　I've　got　to　see；〃　said　Philip。
　The　bonfire　had　been　heaped　with　fresh　logs；　and　Tom　could　see　that　the　whole　village　was　standing；　silently　and　respectfully；　waiting　for　his　speech。
　Borabay　whispered；　〃Tom；　you　tell　me　to　get　ten　best　warriors　for　fight。〃
　〃Fight？　What　fight？〃
　〃We　fight　Hauser。〃
　〃We　can't…〃
　〃Be　quiet　and　do　what　I　say；〃　Borabay　hissed。
　Tom　gave　the　order；　and　Borabay　then　went　through　the　crowd；　clapping　his　hands；　slapping　the　shoulders　of　various　men；　and　in　five　minutes　had　ten　warriors　lined　up　with　them；　decked　out　in　feathers；　paint；　and　necklaces；　each　with　a　bow　and　quiver。
　〃Now　you　give　speech。〃
　〃What　should　I　say？〃
　〃Talk　big。　How　you　going　to　rescue　Father；　kill　bad　mans。　Don't　worry；　whatever　you　say；　I　fix　up　good。〃
　〃Don't　forget　to　promise　a　chicken　in　every　pot；〃　said　Philip。
　Tom　stepped　forward　and　looked　around　at　all　the　faces。　The　hubbub　of　talk　died　quickly。　Now　they　were　looking　at　him　with　hope。　A　shiver　of　fear　ran　through　him。　He　had　no　idea　what　he　was　doing。
　〃Er；　ladies　and　gentlemen？〃
　Borabay　flashed　him　a　disapproving　look　and　then；　in　a　martial　voice；　cried　out　something　that　sounded　a　lot　more　effective　than　the　feeble　opening　he　had　managed。　There　was　a　rustling　as　everyone　came　to　attention。　Tom　had　a　sudden　feeling　of　déjà　vu…he　remembered　Don　Alfonso's　speech　to　his　people　when　they　left　Pito　Solo。　He　had　to　give　a　speech　like　that；　even　if　it　was　all　lies　and　empty　promises。
　He　took　a　deep　breath。　〃My　friends！　We　have　e　to　the　Tara　lands　from　a　distant　place　called　America！〃
　At　the　word　America；　even　before　Borabay　could　translate；　there　was　a　rustle　of　excitement。
　〃We　have　e　many　thousands　of　miles；　by　plane；　by　dugout；　and　on　foot。　For　forty　days　and　nights　we　have　traveled。〃
　Borabay　declaimed　this。　Tom　could　see　he　now　had　their　undivided　attention。
　〃A　great　evil　has　befallen　the　Tara　people。　A　barbarian　named　Hauser　has　e　from　the　other　side　of　the　world　with　mercenary　soldiers　to　kill　the　Tara　people　and　rob　their　tombs。　They　have　kidnapped　your　head　priest　and　killed　your　warriors。　As　I　speak；　they　are　in　the　White　City；　defiling　it　with　their　presence。〃
　Borabay　translated；　and　there　was　a　loud　murmur　of　agreement。
　〃We　are　here；　the　four　sons　of　Maxwell　Broadbent；　to　rid　the　Tara　people　of　this　man。　We　have　e　to　save　our　own　father；　Maxwell　Broadbent；　from　the　darkness　of　his　tomb。〃
　He　paused　for　Borabay's　translation。　Five　hundred　faces；　lit　by　the　firelight；　gazed　at　him　with　rapt　attention。
　〃My　brother　here；　Borabay；　will　lead　us　up　to　the　mountains；　where　we　will　observe　the　bad　men　and　make　plans　for　an　attack。　Tomorrow；　we　will　fight。〃
　At　this　there　was　an　eruption　of　an　odd　sound　like　rapid　grunting　or　laughing…the　Tara　equivalent；　it　seemed；　of　cheering　and　clapping。　Tom　could　feel　his　monkey；　Hairy　Bugger；　scrunching　himself　down　into　the　bottom　of　his　pocket；　trying　to　hide。
　Borabay　then　spoke　to　Tom；　sotto　voce。　〃Ask　them　to　pray　and　make　offering。〃
　Tom　cleared　his　throat。　〃The　Tara　people；　all　of　you；　have　a　very　important　role　to　play　in　the　ing　struggle。　I　ask　you　to　pray　for　us。　I　ask　you　to　make　offerings　for　us。　I　ask　you　to　do　this　every　day　until　we　return　victorious。〃
　Borabay's　voice　rang　out　with　these　declarations；　and　it　had　an　electric　effect。　People　surged　forward；　murmuring　in　excitement。　Tom　felt　a　kind　of　hopeless　absurdity　wash　over　him；　these　people　believed　in　him　far　more　than　he　believed　in　himself。
　A　cracked　voice　rang　out；　and　the　people　instantly　fell　back；　leaving　the　old　woman；　Cah's　wife；　standing　alone；　leaning　on　her　stick。　She　looked　up　and　fixed　her　eye　on　Tom。　There　was　a　long　silence；　and　then　she　raised　her　stick；　drew　it　back；　and　gave　him　a　tremendous　blow　across　the　thighs。　Tom　tried　not　to　flinch　or　grimace。
　Then　the　old　woman　cried　out　something　in　a　wizened　voice。
　〃What'd　she　say？〃
　Borabay　turned。　〃I　do　not　know　how　to　translate。　She　speak　a　strong　Tara　expression。　It　mean　something　like：　You　kill　or　you　die。〃
　
　57
　
　Professor　Julian　Clyve　propped　up　his　feet　and　creaked　back　in　his　old　chair　with　his　hands　behind　his　head。　It　was　a　blustery　May　day；　the　wind　twisting　and　torturing　the　leaves　of　the　sycamore　tree　outside　his　window。　Sally　had　been　gone　now　for　over　a　month。　There　had　been　no　word。　He　hadn't　expected　to　hear　anything；　but　Clyve　still　found　the　long　silence　perturbing。　When　Sally　left；　they　both　expected　the　Codex　would　usher　in　one　more　academic　triumph　in　Professor　Clyve's　life。　But　after　thinking　about　it　for　a　week　or　two；　Clyve　had　changed　his　mind。　Here　he　was　a　Rhodes　scholar；　a　full　professorship　at　Yale；　with　a　string　of　prizes；　academic　honors；　and　publications　that　most　professors　didn't　accumulate　in　a　lifetime。　The　fact　was；　he　hardly　needed　another　academic　honor。　What　he　needed…let's　face　it…was　money。　The　values　of　American　society　were　all　wrong。　The　real　prize…financial　wealth…did　not　e　to　those　who　deserved　it　most；　to　the　intellectual　movers　and　shakers：　the　brain　trust　that　controlled；　directed；　and　disciplined　the　great　stupid　lumbering　beast　that　was　the　vulgus　mobile。　Who　did　make　the　money？　Sports　figures；　rock　stars；　actors；　and　CEOs。　Here　he　was；　at　the　top　of　his　profession；　earning　less　than　the　average　plumber。　It　was　galling。　It　was　unfair。
　Wherever　he　went；　people　sought　him　out；　crushed　his　hand；　praised　him；　admired　him。　All　the　wealthy　people　of　New　Haven　wanted　to　know　him；　to　have　him　to　dinner；　to　collect　him　and　show　him　off　as　evidence　of　their　good　taste；　as　if　he　were　an　Old　Master　painting　or　piece　of　antique　silver。　Not　only　was　it　disgusting；　but　it　was　humiliating　and　expensive。　Almost　everyone　he　knew　had　more　money　than　he　did。　No　matter　what　honors　he　gained；　no　matter　what　prizes　he　won　or　monographs　he　published；　he　still　wasn't　able　to　pick　up　the　tab　at　a　reasonably　good　restaurant　in　New　Haven。　Instead　they　picked　up　the　tab。　They　had　him　to　their　houses。　They　invited　him　to　the　black…tie　charity　dinners　and　paid　for　the　table；　brushing　off　his　insincere　offers　of　reimbursement。　And　when　it　was　all　over　he　had　to　slink　back　to　his　two…bedroom；　revoltingly　bourgeois　split…level　in　the　academic　ghetto；　while　they　went　home　to　their　mansions　in　the　Heights。
　Now；　finally；　he　had　the　means　to　do　something　about　it。　He　glanced　at　the　calendar。　It　was　the　thirty…first　of　May。　Tomorrow　the　first　installment　of　the　two　million　from　the　giant　Swiss　drug　pany；　Hartz；　was　to　arrive。　The　coded　e…mail　confirmation　should　be　ing　from　the　Cayman　Islands　soon。　He　would　have　to　spend　the　money