That means he has a strong will.
A strong will is very important: if you’ve decided to do something, then go ahead and do it, and if you’ve started, you must finish. Kaytek has decided not to waste his spells on nonsense. He’ll build his castle on the river as soon as he has worked out all the details.
One time, purely as a test to assure himself he could do it, he tried to conjure up some treasure.
He’s all alone in the apartment.
Make a box full of gold and a sack of ducats appear here in the corner of the room, he thinks, and repeats the command again.
There’s a roaring noise in his head and he feels an acute pain. Sweat breaks out on his forehead and a shudder runs through him.
Kaytek isn’t a coward, but he feels scared when, between the table and the window in the dark room, he sees a large black wooden chest; next to it there’s a sack tied with string and a red seal.
They’re so heavy the floor has begun to creak under their weight.
I want the key to the chest. I want the key to the chest, he thinks.
He has no trouble opening it. He raises the lid and finds gold. It lights up the room like a flash of lightning.
Then he feels the sack: it’s full of hard, round ducats.
He hears familiar footsteps on the stairs.
Make it disappear. Make it disappear, he thinks.
Then Mom comes in.
“Why is it so dark in here? Why haven’t you lit the lamp? Why are you so pale? Do you have another headache?”
Nowadays Kaytek looks at things completely differently when he’s out and about.
In the old days, the houses didn’t really interest him, but now he takes a good look at them.
“Hmm, I’d like to have a small deck like that,” he thinks. “And a little round window like that one, a small roof above the entrance to the castle, and a gate like that one set in the wall. I’d like flowerboxes in front of the windows, just like this house has.”
Formerly, he never considered whether the houses were pretty or ugly. He never used to look at store window displays with furniture, carpets, lamps, stoves, and mirrors. Now he spends ages standing outside them, looking at it all, and choosing things.
“I’m going to hang curtains like those in my windows. I’ll put a bearskin on the floor like that one. I’ll put that kind of inkwell on my desk.”
He sees a comfortable armchair and a table, but they’re too high for him. He wants smaller ones to suit his height, because in most houses and apartments everything’s made for grown-ups – it’s too big and too heavy.
“That small wardrobe will be good. And that bookshelf.”
By now Kaytek knows what the windows will be like, and which stove he’ll have for the winter. He chooses a white washbasin with two faucets: one for cold water and one for hot.
“It’ll be good to have hot water when I get my hands dirty digging in the garden.”
He once went on a school trip to see an exhibition of paintings. He’s been to the gallery before, but he can’t remember much, because there were so many different paintings in there. That time he actually got bored looking at them all.
But now when he goes there he looks at things in a different way; he compares, selects, and makes a mental note. He chooses four fine paintings, none of them very big.
“Why are you noting down the picture numbers?”
“Because I like those the best.”
So, little by little, making progress in his thoughts, Kaytek builds and furnishes his future residence.
Until finally the time has come.
The hour has struck . . .
He takes a deep breath and repeats twice: Make an island appear in the middle of the River Vistula.
The water becomes turbulent and a wave rises. The River Vistula starts shuddering and is covered in froth. And there in the middle of it, instead of a sandbank he sees an island.
And there are seven stone steps leading from the island to the riverbank because that’s just how Kaytek wanted it. That’s because in spring the amount of water in the river increases, so the island has to be high to save it from flooding.
“There, I’ve made a start,” he thinks. “And now I’ll wait for three days to see what people will say.”
But people are just people, they don’t really know much about anything. Maybe the river engineers have built a dam, maybe they’re going to construct a pier for a new bridge, or maybe it’s to regulate the river – perhaps they want to divert the current or something?
People are just people – if something doesn’t bother them, they don’t spend much time wondering about it.
Kaytek can see the situation is calm, so he waits for three days and then gives the command.
And a castle appears on the island. Exactly the way he wanted it to be – not too big or too splendid.
It’s surrounded by just the right sort of stone wall, with just the right sort of iron gate, a terrace, and a small tower.
I want to see what it’s like inside.
But he doesn’t repeat the command, because people have started to gather on the riverbank and point.
“Now there’s going to be an uproar,” thinks Kaytek.
But there wasn’t – in fact it was strange.
The newspapers reported that one of the foreign visitors had decided to stay in Warsaw forever. He likes it here, and the climate is healthy. And the foreign millionaire suffers from asthma, so he needs fresh air, because he has trouble breathing. That’s why he has built a castle on the river, and the eccentric fellow intends to live there on his own.
The papers published photographs showing what the little castle looked like inside. One of them published a made-up interview with the rich man. Others expressed surprise at the fact that someone had gathered items from various shops during the night, and that all these things had ended up in the castle. Four fine paintings had also disappeared from an art gallery.
We are in no doubt, wrote the newspapers, that Warsaw’s new friend will pay for everything. The Americans say that “time is money,” so clearly the millionaire didn’t want to waste his time on unnecessary conversations and shopping. He sees, he chooses, he pays. Some people talk a lot, others just do it. In a single day, a new building has gone up in Warsaw which will be an ornament for the city. Here is a fine example for our ineffectual city council that it is possible to build something that looks good, and it can be done quickly.
Kaytek put some money in a large envelope and sent it to the bank with a request to pay everyone twice as much as they were owed.
And when his school organized an expedition to the River Vistula, Kaytek went along with all the other boys to admire his own creation. And it really was a very fine sight.
And suddenly he thinks:
Maybe I should fly onto the island, bow to the whole school, and wave my handkerchief?
But he doesn’t repeat the wish. He’ll wait three days again to give people time to get used to the wonder: they’ll come and see it, and feel calm about it.
To raise funds, the Society for Summer Camps* arranged tours of the castle, for a zloty per ticket. A hundred thousand people visited Kaytek’s island by boat and by ship. Then the Society published their thanks for giving poor children the chance to go on holiday to the countryside.
But afterward, Kaytek found his island all covered in litter. The shameful truth is that there were bits of paper, fruit pits, cigarette butts, and broken bottles scattered about the place. Even the papers wrote that the public had shown a lack of good manners. But Kaytek wasn’t bothered; his foreign servant had it all cleaned up in an instant.
Finally, on a Sunday evening, for the first time, the lights are turned on in the tower, in front of the gate, and in all the windows. It looks lovely.
“That sort of guy is lucky,”
people say when they bring their families to the riverbank to admire the castle on the River Vistula.
Kaytek tells his lookalike to go home, and spends his first night in his new house.
He’s feeling happy, and now he’s thinking about other things: how he’ll invite his friends, the headmaster (he’s kind), the nurse (she’s kind), and the lady teacher (she’s very kind). He’ll invite everyone, and even forgive the boys who teased him.
The servant brings dinner: there’s chicken salad, stewed fruit, cake, and tea. Kaytek eats it up, because thanks to the fresh air, he has an excellent appetite. As he eats heartily, he starts making new plans.
Once they see he’s a wizard and a good prince, he’ll bring a whole mountain from the Tatra range** so the children can ride on sleds and go skiing. He’ll make a skating rink for everyone to use. There’ll be fun and games and treats.
All Poland will be rich. One day even the Chinese and the Eskimos will be too.
There are some things he’ll do himself, by magic, and others he’ll pay for, so people will have jobs and an income.
For dessert, Kaytek eats a sweet juicy pear, and then he goes up the spiral staircase to the very top of the tower and looks out at the city.
To the right he can see the Royal Castle, defending the houses that climb up the hill; he can see the lights in their windows coming on and going off like small stars. The glow of the street lamps along the boulevards is reflected in the river like golden sparks.
He feels as if he’s looking through a telescope. He can see people like small, dark dots on the riverbank.
He remembers how once, during a school trip, there was music playing on a boat.
Why not give it a try? He could start today. He can entertain Warsaw with some music.
So he gives the double command.
And at once Warsaw hears the concert to end all concerts.
The cars have stopped to silence their engines. People are standing still in the streets and squares, or opening their windows to hear better. Afterward the experts said they had never heard such beautiful music in their lives before.
And Kaytek the Wizard goes down the steep staircase to his bathroom, takes off his shirt, and washes himself with scented soap.
“Sau adan ra?” asks the servant.
“I don’t understand.”
“May I help you, my Prince?”
“There’s no need. You can go to bed.”
Kaytek laughs out loud because he has just remembered how when he was little, he once said to his mom: “If I was a wizard I’d do a spell so I’d never have to wash my ears or neck, or brush my teeth.”
Kaytek spent four days and four nights in his castle on the island. He only went to the city once.
He clapped his hands, and a motorboat appeared. He boarded it, and put on his Cap of Invisibility. But he didn’t play in the city for long. He went home. He prefers to be in his garden. He has added a summer house, and told the birds to sing. He has a dog, rabbits, and a hedgehog (quite like Robinson Crusoe). He has lowered the wall so it doesn’t block the view. Why have fortifications if no one’s bothering you? He changes details in the rooms too, corrects and moves things. He wonders what kind of new surprise to prepare for the evening, and what he’ll arrange for Sunday.
Kaytek reads because he has some fine books; but now and then he keeps putting his book down because all sorts of thoughts are preventing him from reading.
When and where will he make his first public appearance? On the island or up on the castle tower? Or in the balcony at the theater? In the square or at the town hall? Or in a parade through the city streets?
What will he say, what kind of speech will he make?
It’ll be a short speech. He’ll apologize for everything he did when he was just a frivolous boy: he’ll ask each person to say what losses they suffered and what compensation they want.
He’ll threaten Poland’s enemies, just in case they try to attack or cause harm out of jealousy.
Let them be patient. Kaytek will do his best to make it all good.
He’s surprised the newspapers aren’t writing about him. It’s as if they’d forgotten or didn’t know about him.
“When I did stupid things, they printed special supplements, but there hasn’t been a single word about the concert.”
It’s just like at school. There they only shout and make threats when something gets lost or the boys have a fight or break a window or spill some ink. No one says a word about a nice, quiet day. There’s only ever a commotion about something bad. But not everything results from idleness and carelessness – there is also effort and good will.
What Kaytek doesn’t know is that the newspapers have been forbidden to write about him. He’ll find out soon enough, poor guy.
On the second evening, as well as the music, Kaytek provides a display of dancing on the walls and the terrace. There’s a beautiful ballet lit up by Bengal lights, and there are tableaux vivants.***
On the third evening he projects a movie on an enormous screen so it can be seen from far away.
The citizens of Warsaw stand on the riverbank for hours. Even the children are allowed to stay up late.
“Let them have some fun,” thinks Kaytek, pleased his plan is working so well.
But throughout the fourth day he felt sad, as if he could sense something bad was going to happen – as if he could sense what was going to happen in the night.
That night Kaytek has a headache. He’s feeling sleepy and downhearted. The servant gives him a sad look. The dog licks his hand and rests its head on his knee. Even the River Vistula seems to be flowing more slowly. Kaytek doesn’t eat the delicious dishes served to him on porcelain and silver plates.
The people have gathered on the riverbank, waiting for a show. But finally they disperse and go home. The millionaire’s not in a good mood today, they think. Or maybe he’s had enough?
“You can’t rely on rich men’s favors,” they say. “He should have given warning so we wouldn’t have come and waited in vain. I’m not coming tomorrow – what do I need music for anyway? The police should ban it; the children should be kept home – they’re not getting on with their studying and they’ll catch cold out here.”
“I’ll go to school tomorrow,” thinks Kaytek. “A wizard’s life is hard. I’m tired. I need to rest. Or maybe I’m sick? Do wizards live forever? In the books it says they’re old, but it doesn’t say if they die.”
He went to bed early, but it took him a while to fall asleep.
When suddenly . . . amid the silence of night there was cannon fire.
Then came more cannon fire, like thunder and lightning. The windowpanes were shaking.
Kaytek jumps awake. He sits up and tries to put on the light, but it’s broken. He runs to the door, but it’s locked.
There’s a second and a third salvo. Now the whole island is shaking.
He runs to the window.
Now there’s single fire. He sees a bullet fly straight at the window. Suddenly it stops in mid-air. There’s not a moment to lose. Wanting to jump out the window, he breaks the glass with his hand. He’s injured and he’s bleeding.
Then the door crashes open.
“Run for it!”
He runs.
Boom! Bricks go flying in all directions. By now, Kaytek is on the stairs. Now he’s outside the house. It’s cold and he isn’t properly dressed.
Someone touches him with the end of a stick, and suddenly he’s fully clothed.
“This way. Faster! Over here!”
Someone pushes him, and he thinks he’s falling into the water. But he isn’t – instead he’s sitting in the motor boat. It lurches and then drives away.
Boom, crash! Now it’s as if all the shells have hit the island.
And then it’s dark; all he can hear is the water.<
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Now he’s finally fully awake from sleep and from his terrible experience.
Who on earth was shooting at him? Who broke the light? Who locked the door, and who opened it? Two forces had been fighting over him; one had been trying to destroy him, and the other had rescued him.
Kaytek reaches the riverbank, and sinks the boat as soon as he notices the silhouette of two soldiers on horseback.
I want, I demand my Cap of Invisibility.
I demand, I order my Cap of Invisibility.
At once he’s invisible, and just in time, because suddenly an electric light illuminates the spot where he’s standing.
“Did you hear that?” says one of the soldiers. “Someone came on shore.”
“Yes, I heard, but there’s no one here,” says the other.
“No, there isn’t – no boat and no person.”
Now the huge military floodlight is lighting up the river, searching the shore.
“Look at that! They’ve wiped out the island and the castle. What a pity, it was a fine building.”
“It was. But I thought they’d missed.”
“How could they miss? It’s flat as a table top. An island isn’t a battleship or an airplane. They aimed straight at the lighthouse. Our artillery’s good.”
“They’ve wiped out the wizard.”
“Do you believe it was a wizard?”
“That’s what the experts are saying. Either a Star Man from another planet, or a wizard. The sergeant said so.”
“But why did they have to get rid of him? He was just sitting there quietly, playing music and singing – people had a jollier time of it.”
“It’s not my responsibility. The authorities know what they’re doing. What about the time he made the bridge stand upright and turned the trees upside down? Who knows what might happen next with someone like that around?”
“You could try talking to him. Poland could do with a wizard.”
“Give it a rest. Be slaves to someone like that?”
“Apparently our guys refused to shoot again, the sergeant said. It was the Germans who insisted.”
“Well, they’ve drowned him and that’s the end of it.”
Kaytek the Wizard Page 12