The Tartar Steppe. Dino Buzzati

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СКАЧАТЬ was a stupid explanation – almost an offensive one, because it might be taken for a joke. Drogo repented of it at once. He had got himself into a ridiculous situation simply because he was bored with himself.

      ‘Who are you?’ the captain shouted back.

      It was the question Drogo had feared. This strange conversation across the valley was beginning to sound like an official interrogation. It was an unpleasant beginning, since it was probable, if not certain, that the captain was from the Fort. However, he had to reply.

      ‘Lieutenant Drogo,’ Giovanni shouted, introducing himself.

      The captain did not know him – in all probability could not catch the name at that distance; however, he seemed to become less ruffled, for he moved forward again making an affirmative gesture as if to say that they would meet shortly. In fact, half an hour later a bridge appeared at a point where the ravine narrowed. The two roads became one.

      At the bridge the two men met. The captain, without dismounting, came up to Drogo and held out his hand. He was a man getting on for forty or perhaps older with a thin, aristocratic face. His uniform was clumsily cut but perfectly correct. He introduced himself: ‘Captain Ortiz.’

      As he shook his hand it seemed to Drogo that he was at last entering the world of the Fort. This was the first link, to be followed by all sorts of others which would shut him in.

      Without more ado the captain set off again and Drogo followed at his side, keeping a little behind out of respect for his rank and awaiting some unpleasant reference to the embarrassing conversation of a few minutes before. Instead the captain kept silence – perhaps he did not want to speak, perhaps he was shy and did not know how to begin. Since the road was steep and the sun hot, the two horses walked on slowly.

      At last Captain Ortiz said: ‘I didn’t catch your name at that distance a little while ago. Droso, wasn’t it?’

      ‘Drogo, with a “g”’ Giovanni answered, ‘Giovanni Drogo. But really, sir, you must excuse me if I shouted back there. You see,’ he added with confusion, ‘I didn’t see your rank across the valley.’

      ‘No, you couldn’t see,’ Ortiz admitted, not bothering to contradict him, and he laughed.

      They rode on thus a while, both a little embarrassed. Then Ortiz said: ‘And where are you bound for like this?’

      ‘For Fort Bastiani. Isn’t this the road?’

      ‘Yes, it is.’

      They fell silent. It was hot; on all sides there were still mountains, huge wild grass-covered mountains.

      ‘So you are coming to the Fort?’ said Ortiz. ‘Is it with a dispatch?’

      ‘No, sir, I am going on duty. I have been posted there.’

      ‘Posted to the strength?’

      ‘I believe so, to the strength, my first posting.’

      ‘I see, to the strength, quite right. Good, good. May I congratulate you?’

      ‘Thank you, sir.’

      They fell silent again and rode on a little further. Giovanni had a tremendous thirst; there was a wooden water-bottle hanging by the captain’s saddle and you could hear the glug-glug of the water in it.

      ‘For two years?’ asked Ortiz.

      ‘I beg your pardon, sir – did you say for two years?’

      ‘Yes, for two years – you will be doing the usual two years’ tour of duty, won’t you?’

      ‘Two years? I don’t know. They didn’t tell me for how long.’

      ‘But of course it’s two years – all you newly commissioned lieutenants do two years, then you leave.’

      ‘Two years is the usual for everyone?’

      ‘Of course it’s two years – for seniority they count as four. That’s the important thing. Otherwise no one would apply for the post. Well, if it means a quick rise I suppose you can get used to the Fort, what d’you say?’

      Drogo had never heard of this, but, not wishing to cut a stupid figure, he tried a vague phrase:

      ‘Of course, a lot of them …’

      Ortiz did not press the point; apparently the topic did not interest him. But now that the ice was broken, Giovanni hazarded a question:

      ‘So at the Fort everyone has double seniority?’

      ‘Who is everyone?’

      ‘I mean the other officers.’

      Ortiz chuckled.

      ‘The whole lot of them! That’s good. Only the subalterns, of course, otherwise who would ask to be posted to it?’

      ‘I didn’t,’ said Drogo.

      ‘You didn’t?’

      ‘No, sir, I learned only two days ago that I had been posted to the Fort.’

      ‘Well, that’s certainly odd.’

      Once more they were silent, each apparently thinking different thoughts.

      ‘Of course,’ said Ortiz, ‘it might mean …’

      Giovanni shook himself.

      ‘You were saying, sir?’

      ‘I was saying – it might mean that no one else asked for the posting and so they assigned you officially.’

      ‘Perhaps that’s it, sir.’

      ‘Yes, that must be it, right enough.’

      Drogo watched the clear-cut shadow of the two horses on the dust of the road, their heads nodding at every step; he heard only the fourfold beat of their hooves, the hum of a fly. The end of the road was still not in sight. Every now and again when the valley curved one could see the road ahead, very high up, cut into precipitous hillsides, climbing in zigzags. They would reach that spot, look up and there the road was still in front of them, still climbing higher.

      ‘Excuse me, sir,’ asked Drogo.

      ‘Yes, what is it?’

      ‘Is it still far?’

      ‘Not very – about two and a half hours, perhaps three at this pace. Perhaps we will be there by midday.’

      They were silent for a while; the horses were in a lather – the captain’s was tired and dragged its hooves.

      ‘You are from the Royal Military Academy, I suppose?’ said Ortiz.

      ‘Yes, sir, from the Academy.’

      ‘I see – and tell me, is Colonel Magnus still there?’

      ‘Colonel СКАЧАТЬ