cb.booksofblood-第26部分

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Novi　Pazar　lay　in　the　valley　of　the　River　Raska；　south　of　the　city　named　after　the　river。　It　wasn't　an　area　particularly　popular　with　the　tourists。　Despite　the　good　road　it　was　still　inaccessible；　and　lacked　sophisticated　amenities；　but　Mick　was　determined　to　see　the　monastery　at　Sopocani；　to　the　west　of　the　town　and　after　some　bitter　argument；　he'd　won。
　　The　journey　had　proved　uninspiring。　On　either　side　of　the　road　the　cultivated　fields　looked　parched　and　dusty。　The　summer　had　been　unusually　hot；　and　droughts　were　affecting　many　of　the　villages。　Crops　had　failed；　and　livestock　had　been　prematurely　slaughtered　to　prevent　them　dying　of　malnutrition。　There　was　a　defeated　look　about　the　few　faces　they　glimpsed　at　the　roadside。　Even　the　children　had　dour　expressions；　brows　as　heavy　as　the　stale　heat　that　hung　over　the　valley。
　　Now；　with　the　cards　on　the　table　after　a　row　at　Belgrade；　they　drove　in　silence　most　of　the　time；　but　the　straight　road；　like　most　straight　roads；　invited　dispute。　When　the　driving　was　easy；　the　mind　rooted　for　something　to　keep　it　engaged。　What　better　than　a　fight？
　　〃Why　the　hell　do　you　want　to　see　this　damn　monastery？〃　Judd　demanded。
　　It　was　an　unmistakable　invitation。
　　〃We've　e　all　this　way　。　。　。〃　Mick　tried　to　keep　the　tone　conversational。　He　wasn't　in　the　mood　for　an　argument。
　　〃More　fucking　Virgins；　is　it？〃　Keeping　his　voice　as　even　as　he　could；　Mick　picked　up　the　Guide　and　read　aloud　from　it。。。　〃there；　some　of　the　greatest　works　of　Serbian　painting　can　still　be　seen　and　enjoyed；　including　what　many　mentators　agree　to　be　the　enduring　masterpiece　of　the　Raska　school：　〃The　Dormition　of　the　Virgin。〃〃　Silence。
　　Then　Judd：　〃I'm　up　to　here　with　churches。〃
　　〃It's　a　masterpiece。〃
　　〃They're　all　masterpieces　according　to　that　bloody　book。〃　Mick　felt　his　control　slipping。
　　〃Two　and　a　half　hours　at　most…；　〃I　told　you；　I　don't　want　to　see　another　church；　the　smell　of　the　places　makes　me　sick。　Stale　incense；　old　sweat　and　lies。。。〃
　　〃It's　a　short　detour；　then　we　can　get　back　on　to　the　road　and　you　can　give　me　another　lecture　on　farming　subsidies　in　the　Sandzak。〃
　　〃I'm　just　trying　to　get　some　decent　conversation　going　instead　of　this　endless　tripe　about　Serbian　fucking　masterpieces…；　〃Stop　the　car！〃
　　〃What？〃
　　〃Stop　the　car！〃　Judd　pulled　the　Volkswagen　into　the　side　of　the　road。　Mick　got　out。
　　The　road　was　hot；　but　there　was　a　slight　breeze。　He　took　a　deep　breath；　and　wandered　into　the　middle　of　the　road。　Empty　of　traffic　and　of　pedestrians　in　both　directions。　In　every　direction；　empty。　The　hills　shimmered　in　the　heat　off　the　fields。　There　were　wild　poppies　growing　in　the　ditches。　Mick　crossed　the　road；　squatted　on　his　haunches　and　picked　one。
　　Behind　him　he　heard　the　VW's　door　slam。
　　〃What　did　you　stop　us　for？〃　Judd　said。　His　voice　was　edgy；　still　hoping　for　that　argument；　begging　for　it。
　　Mick　stood　up；　playing　with　the　poppy。　It　was　close　to　seeding；　late　in　the　season。　The　petals　fell　from　the　receptacle　as　soon　as　he　touched　them；　little　splashes　of　red　fluttering　down　on　to　the　grey　tarmac。
　　〃I　asked　you　a　question；〃　Judd　said　again。
　　Mick　looked　round。　Judd　was　standing　the　far　side　of　the　car；　his　brows　a　knitted　line　of　burgeoning　anger。　But　handsome；　oh　yes；　a　face　that　made　women　weep　with　frustration　that　he　was　gay。　A　heavy　black　moustache　（perfectly　trimmed）　and　eyes　you　could　watch　forever；　and　never　see　the　same　light　in　them　twice。　Why　in　God's　name；　thought　Mick；　does　a　man　as　fine　as　that　have　to　be　such　an　insensitive　little　shit？
　　Judd　returned　the　look　of　contemptuous　appraisal；　staring　at　the　pouting　pretty　boy　across　the　road。　It　made　him　want　to　puke；　seeing　the　little　act　Mick　was　performing　for　his　benefit。　It　might　just　have　been　plausible　in　a　sixteen…year…old　virgin。　In　a　twenty…five…year…old；　it　lacked　credibility。
　　Mick　dropped　the　flower；　and　untucked　his　T…shirt　from　his　jeans。　A　tight　stomach；　then　a　slim；　smooth　chest　were　revealed　as　he　pulled　it　off。　His　hair　was　ruffled　when　his　head　re…appeared；　and　his　face　wore　a　broad　grin。　Judd　looked　at　the　torso。　Neat；　not　too　muscular。　An　appendix　scar　peering　over　his　faded　jeans。　A　gold　chain；　small　but　catching　the　sun；　dipped　in　the　hollow　of　his　throat。　Without　meaning　to；　he　returned　Mick's　grin；　and　a　kind　of　peace　was　made　between　them。
　　Mick　was　unbuckling　his　belt。
　　〃Want　to　fuck？〃　he　said；　the　grin　not　faltering。
　　〃It's　no　use；〃　came　an　answer；　though　not　to　that　question。
　　〃What　isn't？〃
　　〃We're　not　patible。〃
　　〃Want　a　bet？〃　Now　he　was　unzipped；　and　turning　away　towards　the　wheat…field　that　bordered　the　road。
　　Judd　watched　as　Mick　cut　a　swathe　through　the　swaying　sea；　his　back　the　colour　of　the　grain；　so　that　he　was　almost　camouflaged　by　it。　It　was　a　dangerous　game；　screwing　in　the　open　air…this　wasn't　San　Francisco；　or　even　Hampstead　Heath。　Nervously；　Judd　glanced　along　the　road。　Still　empty　in　both　directions。　And　Mick　was　turning；　deep　in　the　field；　turning　and　smiling　and　waving　like　a　swimmer　buoyed　up　in　a　golden　surf。　What　the　hell　there　was　nobody　to　see；　nobody　to　know。　Just　the　hills；　liquid　in　the　heat…haze；　their　forested　backs　bent　to　the　business　of　the　earth；　and　a　lost　dog；　sitting　at　the　edge　of　the　road；　waiting　for　some　lost　master。
　　Judd　followed　Mick's　path　through　the　wheat；　unbuttoning　his　shirt　as　he　walked。　Field…mice　ran　ahead　of　him；　scurrying　through　the　stalks　as　the　giant　came　their　way；　his　feet　like　thunder。　Judd　saw　their　panic；　and　smiled。　He　meant　no　harm　to　them；　but　then　how　were　they　to　know　that？　Maybe　he'd　put　out　a　hundred　lives；　mice；　beetles；　worms；　before　he　reached　the　spot　where　Mick　was　lying；　stark　bollock　naked；　on　a　bed　of　trampled　grain；　still　grinning。
　　It　was　good　love　they　made；　good；　strong　love；　equal　in　pleasure　for　both；　there　was　a　precision　to　their　passion；　sensing　the　moment　when　effortless　delight　became　urgent；　when　desire　became　necessity。　They　locked　together；　limb　around　limb；　tongue　around　tongue；　in　a　knot　only　orgasm　could　untie；　their　backs　alternately　scorched　and　scratched　as　they　rolled　around　exchanging　blows　and　kisses。　In　the　thick　of　it；　creaming　together；　they　heard　the　phut…phut…phut　of　a　tractor　passing　by；　but　they　were　past　caring。
　　They　made　their　way　back　to　the　Volkswagen　with　body…threshed　wheat　in　their　hair　and　their　ears；　in　their　socks　and　between　their　toes。　Their　grins　had　been　replaced　with　easy　smiles：　the　truce；　if　not　permanent；　would　last　a　few　hours　at　least。
　　The　car　was　baking　hot；　and　they　had　to　open　all　the　windows　and　doors　to　let　the　breeze　cool　it　before　they　started　towards　Novi　Pazar。　It　was　four　o'clock；　and　there　was　still　an　hour's　driving　ahead。
　　As　they　got　into　the　car　Mick　said；　〃We'll　forget　the　monastery；　eh？〃　Judd　gaped。　〃I　thought…；　〃I　couldn't　bear　another　fucking　Virgin…〃　They　laughed　lightly　together；　then　kissed；　tasting　each　other　and　themselves；　a　mingling　of　saliva；　and　the　aftertaste　of　salt　semen。
　　
　　The　following　day　was　bright；　but　not　particularly　warm。　No　blue　skies：　just　an　even　layer　of　white　cloud。　The　morning　air　was　sharp　in　the　lining　of　the　nostrils；　like　ether；　or　peppermint。
　　Vaslav　Jelovsek　watched　the　pigeons　in　the　main　square　of　Popolac　courting　death　as　they　skipped　and　fluttered　ahead　of　the　vehicles　that　were　buzzing　around。　Some　about　military　business；　some　civilian。　An　air　of　sober　intention　barely　suppressed　the　excitement　he　felt　on　this　day；　an　excitement　he　knew　was　shared　by　every　man；　woman　and　child　in　Popolac。　Shared　by　the　pigeons　too　for　all　he　knew。　Maybe　that　was　why　they　played　under　the　wheels　with　such　dexterity；　knowing　that　on　this　day　of　days　no　harm　could　e　to　them。
　　He　scanned　the　sky　again；　that　same　white　sky　he'd　been　peering　at　since　dawn。　The　cloud…layer　was　low；　not　ideal　for　the　celebrations。　A　phrase　passed　through　his　mind；　an　English　phrase　he'd　heard　from　a　friend；　〃to　have　your　head　in　the　clouds〃。　It　meant；　he　gathered；　to　be　lost　in　a　reverie；　in　a　white；　sightless　dream。　That；　he　thought　wryly；　was　all　the　West　knew　about　clouds；　that　they　stood　for　dreams。　It　took　a　vision　they　lacked　to　make　a　truth　out　of　that　casual　turn　of　phrase。　Here；　in　these　secret　hills；　wouldn't　they　create　a　spectacular　reality　from　those　idle　words？　A　living　proverb。
　　A　head　in　the　clouds。
　　Already　the　first　contingent　was　assembling　in　the　square。　There　were　one　or　two　absentees　owing　to　illness；　but　the　auxiliaries　were　ready　and　waiting　to　take　their　places。　Such　eagerness！　Such　wide　smiles　when　an　auxiliary　heard　his　or　her　name　and　number　called　and　was　taken　out　of　line　to　join　the　limb　that　was　already　taking　shape。　On　every　side；　miracles　of　organization。　Everyone　with　a　job　to　do　and　a　place　to　go。　There　was　no　shouting　or　pushing：　indeed；　voices　were　scarcely　raised　above　an　eager　whisper。　He　watched　in　admiration　as　the　work　of　positioning　and　buckling　and　roping　went　on。
　　It　was　going　to　be　a　long　and　arduous　day。　Vaslav　had　been　in　the　square　since　an　hour　before　dawn；　drinking　coffee　from　imported　plastic　cups；　discussing　the　half…hourly　meteorological　reports　ing　in　from　Pristina　and　Mitrovica；　and　watching　the　starless　sky　as　the　grey　light　of　morning　crept　across　it。　Now　he　was　drinking　his　sixth　coffee　of　the　day；　and　it　was　still　barely　seven　o'clock。　Across　the　square　Metzinger　looked　as　tired　and　as　anxious　as　Vaslav　felt。
　　They'd　watched　the　dawn　seep　out　of　the　east　together；　Metzinger　and　he。　But　now　they　had　separated；　forgetting　previous　panionship；　and　would　not　speak　until　the　contest　was　over。　After　all　Metzinger　was　from　Podujevo。　He　had　his　own　city　to　support　in　the　ing　battle。　Tomorrow　they'd　exchange　tales　of　their　adventures；　but　for　today　they　must　behave　as　if　they　didn't　know　each　other；　not　even　to　exchange　a　smile。　For　today　they　had　to　be　utterly　partisan；　caring　only　for　the　victory　of　their　own　city　over　the　opposition。
　　Now　the　first　leg　of　Popolac　was　erected；　to　the　mutual　satisfaction　of　Metzinger　and　Vaslav。　All　the　safety　checks　had　been　meticulously　made；　and　the　leg　left　the　square；　its　shadow　falling　hugely　across　the　face　of　the　Town　Hall。
　　Vaslav　sipped　his　sweet；　sweet　coffee　and　allowed　himself　a　little　grunt　of　satisfaction。　Such　days；　such　days。　Days　filled　with　glory；　with　snapping　flags　and　high；　stomach…turning　sights；　enough　to　last　a　man　a　lifetime。　It　was　a　golden　foretaste　of　Heaven。
　　Let　America　have　its　simple　pleasures；　its　cartoon　mice；　its　candy…coated　castles；　its　cults　and　its　technologies；　he　wanted　none　of　it。　The　greatest　wonder　of　the　world　was　here；　hidden　in　the　hills。
　　Ah；　such　days。
　　In　the　main　square　of　Podujevo　the　scene　was　no　less　animated；　and　no　less　inspiring。　Perhaps　there　was　a　muted　sense　of　sadness　underlying　this　year's　celebration；　but　that　was　understandable。　Nita　Obrenovic；　Podujevo's　loved　and　respected　organizer；　was　no　longer　living。　The　previous　winter　had　claimed　her　at　the　age　of　ninety…four；　leaving　the　city　bereft　of　her　fierce　opinions　and　her　fiercer　proportions。　For　sixty　years　Nita　had　worked　with　the　citizens　of　Podujevo；　always　planning　for　the　next　contest　and　improving　on　the　designs；　her　en