Zelimon’s story
I was no sooner informed of your wife’s emotions since the freedman’s arrival than I decided to learn the reason at any price. For this I went secretly to this man and used every means possible to wheedle him into trusting me. But it was no use! His loyalty and discretion were invincible and annoyed me. The more care he took to hide from me what seemed to be of great interest to my love, the deeper I dug. I had recourse to the only way I could get what I wanted—violence.
I had the freedman kidnapped in the middle of the night. It was done so carefully that they did not make the slightest noise in bringing him to me. I kept him in a cellar where he caved in to torture and told me what I wanted to know. I was delighted to learn that Clemelis was waiting for you. I thought long and hard about how to satisfy my long-suffering love. Afraid that the freedman might ruin my plans if I let him go, that he might complain of how violently I treated him, I killed him with my own hands. Only our first crime counts—I had been used to it for a long time. But before sending him to the grave, I made him write a letter to Clemelis that would complete my plan. With it there was no doubt that I would succeed.
I told the bribed slave about my plan to enter Clemelis’ room in the middle of the night pretending to be her husband…
(“What!” I was beside myself as I untangled the knot of this intrigue. “Villain! You would have gone so far as to dishonor me in the flesh?”)
I won’t (the traitor continued) hide anything from you. That was the only means I had to get her to forgive me. I would have done anything to save myself. The slave tried in vain to tell me what would come of this. I was going to die for love or die trying to win it. The next night was planned for the final touch. Toward the end of the day I had a stranger bring the letter that I had forced the freedman to write to Clemelis. It went something like this:
Zelimon’s Letter to Clemelis
Lamekis has just arrived. He is burning with desire to atone for his crimes at your feet. He begs you to order one of your servants to open the door when she hears him knock three times. He also asks that his coming be kept secret for important reasons that he will tell you about. And to avoid any surprises he would like your room to stay in the dark. He is so ravished by the desire to see the wife whom he loves that he cannot find the words to express it.
Signed, Zinouk-bour, the humblest of your slaves.
Clemelis was not only overcome with pleasure on receiving the letter, but also thought she could ruin my plans by the enthusiasm she felt to see you again, Lamekis. She wanted to go to the freedman’s house right away and get a foretaste of your hugs and kisses. If it weren’t for the bribed servant, she would have done it, but my crony talked her out of it by cleverly making her fear upsetting you. So, she held her desires at bay and waited for me as I advised.
I went to her house toward the middle of the night, knocked three times and the door was opened. The servant led me into Clemelis’ room. The lovely woman ran up to me, threw her arms around me…her happy emotions…
Zelimon’s death
“Wretch,” I cut in and hit and bit over and over again until he lay senseless on the ground. “Take the punishment for a crime that a million lives like yours cannot atone for.” I was at the height of rage and did all I could to tear him to pieces, but by a surprising marvel, I could not rip his flesh apart. His skin was as hard as his heart.277 My fury was even more terrible after the traitor’s story that I thought dishonored my return. My outraged love could no longer dream about the woman whom I had pined and suffered for, for so long.
In spite of Dehahal’s oracle, I finally saw myself condemned to be a snake for the rest of my life. It was too cruel and truly worth every ounce of my despair.
But just as I realized that Zelimon was gone forever, I regretted his death. Indeed, my recklessness was too much. I had just taken away the only way for me to find out the most important details of the matter, however humiliating they might be for me. And however right I was to tell myself that I was surely dishonored, certain circumstances might make it more or less serious. I still had to find out if my gullible wife was ignorant of her crowning infamy, in which case she would be less guilty even though my insult would be no less bloody. I still boiled with desire to know if the villainous architect of my misfortune had told her or if he continued to take advantage of her gullibility. Carried away by anger, I also thought about the desire to punish the wretched servant who had sold herself for these criminal attacks. Never was a mortal burdened by so many horrors at the same time. I had to be a snake not to collapse under their weight.
I spent several days in such cruel despair that I tried the best I could to put an end to my unlucky destiny. There were all kinds of things I did, but in vain. With my transformation, the Heavens had given me such a tough skin that it was impossible for me to take my own life, as miserable as it was to me. I could not leave Zelimon’s corpse; I came and went like a madman. There was not a moment that I did not give it new bites. Just to look at it inflamed my bitterness, but I could not go away.
Then some woodcutters chanced upon the corpse, examined it carefully and after showing signs that they recognized it, they cried out at the sight. Slipping under a nearby rock I watched everything they did and listened to every word they said. The peasants talked about it and sometimes talked very reasonably. Finally after a lot of talking and shouting about Zelimon’s death, from which they could easily see the cause, one of them took off to go (he said) to the next village to inform the family and relatives. After he left, the rest of them discussed the accident confidentially.
“It’s a punishment, this sudden death!” the eldest said. “Zelimon didn’t fear the Heavens. He was mean and hard on his inferiors and would just about kill them over the littlest thing. Since our great King exiled him,” the good man continued, “he hasn’t stopped tormenting and torturing us with whatever grief is eating away at him. I don’t know the reason, but…”
“Oh!” one of the peasants interjected, “I’ll bet trik-&-bak278 that I know. And to prove it to you,” he slapped his hand on the rock he was sitting on, “I’ll tell you what happened to me over these past few days and then judge for yourself if I’m wrong to brag about knowing so much.” The woodcutters gathered around and the peasant told his story.
The woodcutter’s story
Around a month ago I was rudely awakened out of a sound sleep by Zelimon himself. He was carrying a dark lantern and he was all sweating, like he’d been running. He told me to get up and follow him and take my tools with me. “I know you can keep a secret,” he said to me on the road. “That’s why I chose you to help me and I’ll pay you well for it. But if you ever dare to open your mouth, your disobedience will cost you your life.” There was nothing to say to that.
He brought me down into a deep cellar where I worked for him for a few days to set up a room and he helped me every night. We furnished it with the best of his furniture and after four days it had everything it needed. We spent the same time getting the doors in good condition: had to put on locks and bolts whose size would make you shiver. I was surprised sometimes myself. Of course he wants to lock somebody up in here, I told myself, somebody who did something bad to him and that somebody must be somebody important because he’s going out of his way to make it comfortable. Really, except for being free, it was crawling with everything you could want in life. It was a real delight.
I really would’ve liked to know what it was all about, so I mentioned something about it once, but he turned on me full of gall and vinegar, so I never brought it up again.
When everything was like he wanted, he sent me back, reminding me to keep it a secret with the same threats he used the first time. I’ve been careful about it because he wouldn’t go easy on me. And now you know as much as me and that’s plenty.
Lamekis finds the underground prison
The peasant’s story made a strong impression on me. Without quite figuring out what particular interest I took i
n the story, I decided right then and there to clear up such an interesting mystery. Thus, when the woodcutters left, I slithered into Zelimon’s clothes. They are surely going to take his body away from here, I said to myself, and they will not notice me. They will carry it back to his house and when I am there, it will not be hard for me to get to the mysterious dungeon. A certain something burned inside me with a fervent desire not only to try, but to succeed in this project.
I waited impatiently for 15 minutes when they should have come back, but they did not. Halfway through the night nobody showed up. I was starting to despair when I heard Zelimon’s people coming at the break of day. Of course it was them—they had brought a tou-kam-bouk279 on a wagon to put their master’s body in. The mourners walked in front of the convoy followed by a large number of people howling frightfully.
As soon as they arrived they formed a circle around the dead man. Then everyone became silent. Each of the heads of the funeral ceremony came up one after another to ask, according to custom,280 if he was dead, why he had died and what his last wishes were. The corpse did not budge at any of these questions. After the gift ceremony,281 they put him into the tou-kam-bouk…and me with him. The wagon, dragged by slaves,282 took off, like an arrow out of a crossbow, on a relay race. In under an hour we got to the castle whose majesty and grandeur astonished me.
After the mourning ceremonies, they hung the tou-kam-bouk in the room where Zelimon lived, as was the usual custom.283 When night fell and the Guer-ma-ka284 were sleeping, I poked my head out of the barrel to see how I might get down. Afraid of hurting myself I dropped onto one of the Guer-ma-ka who woke up with a start and was so scared at the sight of me that she died on the spot, which embarrassed me a little because of the glory285 that I got for her.
I went down the stairs to find out where the cellar windows were and I slipped through the first one I found. By the weak light I thought that chance had chosen the one I was so eager to find, but instead of finding myself, like I pretended at first, in the room I had been told about, I was only in the hallway leading to it. Some hanging lamps illuminated the passage and after a rather long journey in the subterranean cellar I came to a door that looked like it might be the one I wanted, but there was no way for me to get through it. It was closed so tightly that it was impossible, however hard I tried, to slide through. While I was examining it, I heard a faint moaning that made me listen more carefully. Heavens, I thought I recognized the voice. It sounded like Clemelis. My heart beat faster and I tried to listen, but it was no good. The thick door was an invincible obstacle. I was furious and sank into deep meditation.
How could she, I asked myself, be in this dark dungeon? I must be mistaken. What mask did Zelimon wear to get her to follow him into such a dreary place? Or did he kidnap her in the middle of a crowd in the bustling city? Either Clemelis is the unluckiest of all women or the most villainous. But why this suspicion? Don’t I know how traitorous Zelimon is? His behavior is detestable. Isn’t this just another cruel outcome of his wicked ways? Let’s wait to judge until things are better cleared up. Haven’t I learned from experience now? After what I thought were well-founded suspicions, Clemelis was found innocent. Isn’t it likely that the same appearances here will find the same solutions? If my poor wife was faithful to me when she thought I was dead for sure, shouldn’t I only presume that when she learns of my fate she will keep her loyalty that she knows too well was jealously suspected by me? These thoughts reassured me and tempered the story that Zelimon had told just before his death. Love was on Clemelis’ side; it had always ruled my heart.
The harder it was for me to get in, the harder I tried. I found no other way but to dig and try to open up a passage under the door. It was long and tricky work, even though I was a snake I had kept the same senses of touch and smell like when I was a man and they and my feelings were suffering. There’s no use changing states; we always keep the same prejudices.
I spent two days at this painful labor and was almost ready to give up when I glimpsed a light. It was about time. My sapped energy regained its vigor then and finally got me into that place that had become so important to me. First I looked around, searching for the cause of all the pain and effort. A bed with the curtains drawn gave me hope that my desires would be answered. If I followed through on my first move, I would have gone there right away. But alas! I got hold of myself and stayed back. What fright would my monstrous appearance cause? Wouldn’t I freeze the blood in her veins, supposing it was my dear wife in the bed? A snake of my size was a dreadful sight. I could barely look at myself, so how would she react? But I was bent on resolving my suspicions. In the end I found no way more natural than to slide deftly into the bed next to the wall and from this hiding place see who was there. I slithered over, but for nothing—it was empty. Soon I heard moaning again, coming from a closet and I knew my speculations were not idle. It was Clemelis. I saw her come back into the room. In spite of the sadness and depression in which she was sunk, she still had all the grace that distinguished her above all other women.
Oh Heavens, how hard it was for me just to look at her! She wept bitterly and whispered sweet words that struck my heart: I was the reason for her tears—she was calling upon me for help, promising she had always been faithful and tender in her love for me and without any explanation I had every reason to believe that my honor was safe from the horrible stains that the traitorous Zelimon had hinted at.
The charm of recovering such a lovely wife had blurred all my thoughts and I could not think straight. But a few minutes later I did and was cast into dire straits. My transformation should have stopped on meeting a chaste and loyal woman. I was with Clemelis, but I was still a snake. Heavens, what was going to become of me after that! My senses slowly chilled; the fire went out in me; and I completely lost the good feeling.
I mentioned that I had slid into Clemelis’ bed. Obviously the spell that was meant to give me back my original form needed her to touch me! In any case, clearing my head, I found myself again as I used to be, but completely naked except for a snakeskin belt. My first reaction was to thank the Heavens for this singular favor bestowed on me; my second was to gaze upon my Clemelis. I was transported by the purest joy. What had just happened to me proved her wisdom and fidelity. I started running around her room to express all the feelings inside me, but alas, my tragedy was not over. Clemelis was gone. I could not understand what new miracle had made her disappear like that. It was like some fatal destiny was constantly opposing our reunion.
So, my joy was short-lived. When I knew for sure that my lovely wife had vanished, I struggled in vain to untangle the mystery that had taken her away from me. Everything was so tightly sealed that except for imagining a transformation like mine, I could not figure out how she could have left in a normal way. The thought threw me back into sorrow. “Oh Heavens,” I shouted, “when will you stop persecuting me?”
Really, could my fate have been any more deplorable? I saw myself again in the grip of an awful death, imprisoned naked as the palm of my hand, with no food to prolong my wretched life. What was to become of me? And what did the Heavens have in store? Imagining the worst finally got to me. I breathed faster and heavier and felt like I was suffocating until I broke down and cried bitter tears, which helped to comfort me.
I spent three days and nights in this awful state. Toward the end of the fourth, I heard the door open. I raised my head, anxious to see who was paying me a visit. For a minute I thought it might be Clemelis, but what a surprise when I saw in the open door none other than Sinouis, the erstwhile owl whom I thought was dead. He was chained up like a wild beast and followed by a troop of culambis,286 but what really threw me for a loop was that he still had his owl’s beak. As soon as he saw me, he cried out in joy and astonishment, lifted his arms (weighed down by irons) and tried to come closer. I went up to him instead.
“What’s this? I’ve found you again, my dear Sinouis” I hugged him tightly. “I thought you were dead. I cried so h
ard for you.” The culambis gave us no time to talk. They ran in, slapped heavy irons on me and left without saying why I was being treated so inhumanely. Everything that happened to me was so extraordinary and so unlikely that I was less surprised at it than I should have been. But then again, Sinouis was taking up all my attention.
We stared at each other for a long time without saying anything. Finally he broke the silence to ask me how I came to be locked up in the place. I told him everything that had happened to me since our separation, but instead of making him feel better, it made him cry.
“Oh Lamekis, what are we destined for? What do all these trials and tribulations mean? Will we always be struggling? Is there no end?” He sighed heavily and told me what had happened to him.
Sinouis, the hunter and the cellar
After you saw me shot by an arrow, Lamekis, I fell into a lake that was behind the rock. It saved my life. A fisherman in his bark was casting his nets and I fell right next to him. He lifted me out of the water and gave me to his little boy as a toy to dry up his baby tears. The boy pulled out the arrow and in the course of torturing me woke me up. But the cruel kid made me pay dearly for the favor. He started his fun by ripping out my feathers one by one and every time I yelped in pain he busted a gut laughing. If I had any strength left in me, I would have pecked his face off, but I could barely breathe. He did not stop plucking me until I was completely bare in his hands.
I do not know what the wicked little kid had in mind by putting me in such a state, but I was getting anxious for him to stop torturing me when he started blowing on a little stove and telling the fisherman that he was going to roast me and eat me for lunch. And he really did lay me out on the coals, but the extreme pain gave me strength. I shrieked and made a lucky jump that landed me in the lake.
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