Raetian Tales 1: A Wind from the South Read Online Free PDF Page B

il Giavel all this while anyway, because of its temper and the horns on it, like knives. This goat goes bounding across the bridge, furious, and the first thing it sees is Old Malón himself; so mad it is, it goes after him with those horns and butts him right off the bridge and ten feet down the road on the far side. He picks himself up, screaming,  ‘You’ll pay for this!’—and at the noise the goat goes after him again, chases him around the bend and out of sight.”
    The counselors laughed. “So the price of the bridge was paid,” said the scolar . “But no one tricks old Malón that easily.”
    “No, no, you’re right there, young man.” Gion had another drink. “Il Giavel, he was furious: he ran right on down the Scalina gorge, and lost the goat finally. At the bottom of the gorge near Caschinutta he picked up the biggest boulder he could find from the glacier-dump there, to drop it on the bridge and destroy it. And he was carrying the thing back up the road when who does he meet but old Duonna Burga, who lived at that old house at Uaul di Bastun south of town, she’s dead now of course, but she saw his foot and signed herself. Il Giavel dropped the rock to hide his face from the Sign, and the thing took root there and wouldn’t be budged. Still a nuisance, they had to move the road to go around it. So he had to leave the Bridge alone, and Punt dil Giavel it is to this day: but he cursed it,  saying that because he was cheated, no good would come of its building.” Gion shrugged.
    “Doubtless,” said the scolar , “the truth looks otherwise to others. Probably some say that the Austriacs offered to send engineers to build the bridge, and the Ursera counselors agreed: so the deal is a deal with il Giavel in effect, if not in truth. Until the bridge was built, there was no harm in letting this part of the world rule itself. The way to the Pass couldn’t be blocked by anyone here. But now that gold comes through here from the south—“
    “And possibly armies,” Mariarta’s father said again.
    “Aye,” Gion said. “Ursera controls that bridge, the Hapsburgs think...so Ursera and its country needs controlling itself. Who knows what ideas we might get about striking up friendships with the Talians...or blocking the Hapsburgs’ way south to fight them?  Suddenly we’re a hole in their southern defenses.” He sighed. “It’s late to wish the bridge unbuilt. But I wish they’d stop their foolish warring, the whole pack of them.”
    There were mutters of agreement. Mariarta’s father laughed softly. “The Austriac saltér ,” he said, “even he calls it the Devil’s Bridge. Or something that means that—I forget the word.”
    “ Teufelsbrücke ,” Mariarta said from the cushion-seat, yawning.
    “You still here?” her father said, surprised. “Why aren’t you in bed an hour ago?  Say good night to the gentlemen and be off.”
    Mariarta stood up, noticing the thoughtful look with which the scolar favored her. Earlier, it might have made her nervous. Now she just returned it, and made a curtsy. “ Buna notg, ” she said, and everyone at the table murmured good night to her as she walked to the door. As she went by the scolar , he leaned back toward her and said softly, “ Gute nacht, präsidenterin. Erinnern Sie mich. ”
    Mariarta smiled at being called “mayoress” again: but she was not sure what the rest of it meant. She went up the stairs, got into bed in the dark, and knew nothing more until she heard dil Curtgin’s cock shrieking kikiriki ...
     
    •
     
    She rose early, but he had risen earlier. Her mother and Onda Baia were baking, and the scolar was gone. “While it was still dark,” Onda Baia muttered.
    Mariarta’s mother laughed. “Baia, he’s going home: what traveler wastes time about that?  Mati, we need some water.”
    Quiet and thoughtful, Mariarta got the yoke. Everything outside looked as it had yesterday morning, but everything was different, now,