The Implacable Hunter by Gerald Kersh Read Free Book Online

result. But the killing is a different kind of killing.’
    ‘To hell with your metaphysics!’ said Afranius. ‘Return to Lucius and Paulus.’
    Melanion nodded. ‘To hell with metaphysics indeed. Take Lucius first – he is a deeply religious man.’
    ‘Oh, come now!’ cried Afranius.
    ‘Why not?’ said Melanion. ‘Only a man who believes in the gods can find the thrill of wickedness in constantly and obscenely blaspheming them. And Little Lucius really believes that he is being wicked. The more frantically he blasphemes, the more he believes. His private fear of the gods is in inverse proportion to his public mockery of them. … Is this metaphysical enough for you, Diomed?’
    ‘Nothing metaphysical about it,’ I said. ‘By the same token, the more openly devout some men are, the smuttier their private lives turn out to be. Remember the scandal of Martius, the one called the Ascetic, and his nephew? The child died of internal injuries –’
    ‘May I proceed? I have your permission? Thank you. Concerning Lucius: deep in his soul he is very much afraid of the gods. And I’ll wager that when he’s alone he sends up quite elaborate excuses to them on the smoke of lavish sacrifices , saying something like this: “Dear gods, let me make my position clear once again. You will not fail to perceive that in blaspheming you I am serving you, in that I often shock lukewarm believers into warm protest and generous sacrifice to you …” and so on, and so forth.’
    ‘As I might call Diomed, say, a pederast and the son of a bitch, safe in the assumption that he would know I was only joking,’ said Afranius.
    ‘Something like that,’ said Melanion. ‘Now this evening while Little Lucius was approaching the most lurid part ofhis foolish poem, where Neptune comes in, Soxias cut him short. This put him out of countenance. Lucius fell into one of those empty depths of misery that only the professional clown can reach.’
    ‘Well put,’ said I.
    ‘Be silent,’ said Melanion. ‘At this point Paulus raised a laugh. Lucius went into one of those ecstasies of impotent spite that only the professional clown can achieve when an outsider steals his audience. There is philosophy among wild beast men, resignation among thieves condemned to fight to the death, and sportsmanship among maimed swordsmen – but among clowns there are none of these things. They know a desperation and a hopelessness nobody else knows. Thus, in his despair, poor Little Lucius turned to blaspheme a god without a statue, one he couldn’t sacrifice to. And in that second, when one laugh would have given him strength again – in that one second – Paulus played his tomfoolery with the drop of wine and Lucius’s hand; and by the gods I honour him for it!’
    ‘But the curse, the curse!’ cried Afranius.
    ‘Here is where I honour Paulus,’ Melanion said. ‘Because what I might have done out of calculation and long experience , he did with the wisdom of an instant. There was the calculation, yes; there was the diagnostic perception, yes; but it all came to his mind in a flash, and what is more, in that flash the boy acted! Lucius, in spite of all the wine he has drunk, will be unable to sleep. He will toss and turn, and think of his hand; he will pray to all the gods; he will drink a lot more wine; he will vomit. Then he will swallow some strong Indian opiate such as he probably takes normally to give himself strange and pleasant dreams. But he will have bad dreams this time. When he wakes up, his hands will be trembling, as they always must. This time they will be trembling more than ever, and his right hand will tremble more than the left. He won’t be able to hold a cup, let alonea stylus. And this evening he will go weeping to Paulus, saying: “Take off the curse, take off the curse!”’
    ‘Very well,’ I said. ‘And you would have cursed him as a physician, no doubt, in the name of Aesculapius, and might perhaps placate him with