The Wanderess

by Roman Payne

  “She shows it very strangely,” I said, “She won’t even look at me or offer the slightest sympathy as I stand before her in chains, awaiting execution.”

  “Yes, Saul, you and I both know… Women have a strange way of showing their love!” Dragomir’s witticism made him laugh all the more loudly, while I meanwhile cursed him, shaking with fury, my chains a rattling cacophony of clanging metal. The sound reminded me once again how heavy my chains were, I could never break them. And so I asked kindly of my executioner, “Dragomir, please… I request to speak to Saskia now.”

  “No requests, Saul.”

  “You are an unnatural creature! I am a man condemned to death, and I can make no requests? Damn-you, insect! Let me talk to Saskia”

  “There will be time for that.”

  “When?”

  “We are going on a little boat ride now.”

  “What do you mean a little boat ride?”

  “A little boat ride in the name of your king.”

  ‘A little boat ride in the name of the King of Tripoli!’ …That horrible phrase sent my mind flashing back to the story my mother told me as a boy of the execution out at sea, when she was taken on a boat to witness the death of a young nobleman, ordered by the adolescent king. I would have nightmares of that execution when I was a boy… they were so vivid, I had given faces to all the characters: the sister who was shot in the head when she refused to kill her brother, the second son whom the condemned brother convinced to shoot him to save their family—he shot his brother, then he turned the gun on himself—I imagined all their faces, right down to the face of the condemned man himself. Now I was to enact my childhood nightmares for real… the thought sent me into convulsions, I admit I was seized with horror. And in my panic, I struggled to free myself from the iron handcuffs.

  “Don’t do that, Saul. You’re just going to scrape up your wrists.”

  He then walked to the door and called the two guards back in. “Take the prisoner to the boat,” he ordered, “Lock him in the cabin.”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  The chief guard, along with his two pockmarked henchman, led me from the palace down a deserted street until we came to a beach, where a jetty of sandy stones stretched out into the sea. It was an unpopulated beach and there were no boats or people or signs of habitations visible either up the beach or down… only in front of us, that single stone jetty with crystal blue water lapping gently around it. This view before my eyes had an unreal, dreamy quality, as though it were a pastel landscape painting. The only movement in the painting was the gently lapping blue water. So had it looked since I was a boy in my dreams and nightmares of that execution out at sea my mother witnessed. It was a scene painted in pastels. It was a day just like this day: clear skied, the sand bright orange, and the Mediterranean whose waters are often so wild, on this day were still and as calm as a puddle of glass.

  At the end of the stone jetty stood a magnificent boat with enormous white sails puffed-up with wind. The guards escorted me down the jetty, and once we reached the boat, they slackened the irons on my ankles so I could cross the gap from the jetty to the boat deck. I was somehow not surprised to see that Saskia and Adélaïse were on the boat. I had begun to believe evil things by then. I believed that they themselves desired to be the ones to actually kill me, to spill my blood and watch me die. Saskia and Adélaïse were sitting together on the floor of the deck holding hands and whispering to each other. They looked so happy in their little white matching linen dresses, their feet dangling over the side of the boat. They might as well have been having a picnic together.

  Saskia only glanced at me for a moment when I came onto the boat. She didn’t look into my eyes. She only looked at my chains: at my bleeding wrists and my feet. There was a look of both reassurance and love in her eyes. I was sure she was reassured to see me bound in irons, that she could feel safe knowing that I could not escape to harm her, nor escape my death. But the love in her eyes was the most painful. I felt that even though she had sold my life for money or for whatever reason, she still loved me in some part of her. And with that thought, the most painful realization dawned on me: that the only person living in the world who loved me, and whom I loved, wished me to die!

  And so that was the moment that I wished the world to die: every memory, every creature, every breath that makes us creatures… every trace of life… to die and never be reborn!

  If ever I had been happy in this world, if I had ever admired the universe and all that was created within it, that admiration vanished the moment Saskia let it be known that her wish was for me to die in front of her… and for what sake? For the sake of her friendship with Adélaïse.

  The guards escorted me into the cabin of the boat. In the center of the cabin room there was a table. On one side of the cabin were bunk beds. On the opposite side was a window looking out onto the deck to where Saskia and Adélaïse sat together talking. Finally, at the back of the cabin, next to the window, there was the bench to which I was chained. The guards attached each of my ankles to a leg of the bench. The bench legs were nailed solid into the wooden planks of the boat. The cuffs on my wrists were unlocked long enough for the guards to chain my hands behind me; thus if I decided after all to deprive the executioner of the pleasure of killing me by strangling myself, I was now out of luck. I looked out the cabin window then and watched Adélaïse and Saskia as they spoke to one another on the deck. I could hear every word they said…

  Adélaïse was laughing. “We’re finally together again, Saskia! I can’t believe it! It’s been a crazy long time!”

  “I can’t believe it either…” There was melancholy in Saskia’s voice.

  “Why are you sad?”

  “I’m just nervous. I just want it all behind us. I just want it all to be over, so we can move on.”

  I repeated Saskia’s words over and over again in my thoughts. Several times over and again, I repeated, ‘I just want it all to be over, so we can move on.’ … ‘I just want it all to be over, so we can move on.’ … ‘I just want it all to be over, so we can move on…’ ‘Yes,’ I thought, ‘After I’m gone, she will finally be able to move on…’ I now truly feared death. Footsteps approached the cabin from outside. Then the voice of Dragomir…

  “Clara, come now… we’re going, it’s time… Guards, see to the comfort of Adélaïse until we get back… make sure she’s in want of nothing. Oh, and make sure the prisoner behaves himself.” Through the window of the cabin I observed Adélaïse as she watched her friend walk off the boat at Dragomir’s side. I could see Saskia and Dragomir walking down the jetty towards the city.

  I waited in that cabin for what seemed about two hours. I struggled with my chains and tried to loosen the bench, but I knew it was no use. All my ideas were stupid… I thought to shout to Adélaïse through the window for help. But what on earth would I say to her?… ‘Hey Kid! If you help me get untied, I won’t tell anyone!’…? She was busy sunbathing, she wouldn’t bother with me. As you can see, I was facing the pathetic ending of an otherwise beautiful life.

  It was late afternoon when Saskia and Dragomir came walking back down the jetty towards the boat. Dragomir was pushing some kind of a wheeled cart, from what I could see through my cabin window. The sun had fallen low, and all I could see outside were silhouettes. Yet as the sea was calm and quiet, I could hear every sound and word perfectly. Dragomir stopped at the end of the jetty by the boat, and handed something to each of the guards…

  “One gold louis for each of you. Good work, boys. I won’t need you for anything more. Just help me get this cart aboard. Then stay on the jetty and help me untie the ropes at your end, we’re shoving off for a little boat ride.”

  The guards moved the cart onto the boat and I could see clearly now, the cart was carrying sacks of lemons—‘Why lemons?’ I wondered. Back on the jetty, the guards untied the ropes and pushed the boat adrift in the sea. The sails caught the wind, and the four of us: Dragomir and Saskia, Adélaïse
and me, started sailing slowly but steadily out into the vast and fabulous Mediterranean Sea.

  Now I could see Saskia clearly in the sunshine from my prison bench. She passed in front of my window and went to Adélaïse and hugged her and smiled. “Oh, Adélaïse! I’m so glad that’s over with! Now we’re sailing… Soon we will be all together and happy.”

  “Soon they will be all together and happy,” I repeated in a mumble, “I hope Saskia pulls the trigger…” With the guards back on the shore, who else would do it? It seemed like Dragomir’s style to give the honor of executing me to the woman I loved. Dragomir came into my cabin that moment followed by Adélaïse…

  “Unfasten his chains from the bench,” he said, “But leave his wrists chained together behind his back.”

  “Do we keep him in the cabin?”

  “Please, no… Don’t keep me here! Let me see the sun a final time before I die!”

  “Alright, do as he says… bring him out to the deck to see the sun.”

  Saskia was standing at the bow on the deck. She was staring at the coast of Libya as it grew gradually fainter. One could still see the tiny dots that were people, milling around on the piers of Tripoli that jutted out from the stretches of beaches. One could still make out the palm trees, and the houses were still rather large.

  “We are not that far away,” Saskia said and turned around to face the cabin door from which I emerged, still in chains, led by Adélaïse. Saskia acknowledged me this time, but she did not look at me long. She seemed more fascinated with the landscape. She turned around to face the sea again and shouted, “Oh hurry up! Let that horizon disappear from sight forever!…”

  Dragomir, meanwhile, seemed extremely gay of spirit. He was laughing, making boyish jokes, leaping around the deck. I stood stoically and gloomy, my back to the mast.

  “It’s time to taunt you, Saul!” Dragomir laughed. He tore the lemons out of the four sacks with joy—tossing them wherever they might land: on the deck or in the sea. After a while of that, I saw that in the sacks, underneath the lemons, were brilliant gold pieces. “The sacks are filled with louis d’or!” Dragomir laughed. Then he explained his ruse, “I covered the coins with lemons to look like a citrus merchant. Smart, huh? While we were walking through the poverty of Tripoli, all the people were staring at Clara here. No one cared about my lemons! Ah, but if they’d seen the flesh and the gold, those poor devils would have stolen both— there’s enough here to make the whole city rich! Not to mention those greedy guards. Why do you think I didn’t bring the guards on the boat? Who would be able to stop them from taking all!, what, with the pistols and swords they carry… “Look at all this money, Saul! …You see what I get for killing you? There are twenty-five thousand of these beautiful gold coins. All divided amongst these four sacks. Each sack weighs almost fifty kilos!— can you imagine that?! Did you know that your head weighed so much?!…”

  Dragomir was euphoric with laughter. “Hey Clara!” he yelled over to Saskia, “Stop looking out at that sea and come feel this gold!” She didn’t turn around or respond to him, she kept at the bow, staring out at the horizon. Adélaïse, at that moment, came to me where I stood at the mast and she stood beside me. She gave me a thoughtful and serious look. She seemed to want me to know something… but what? Was she sorry she had to execute me?

  “Clara!” Dragomir yelled again, “You can come over here now. Leave off your watch! Tripoli is finally out of sight… the horizon officially shows water in every direction!” And with more loud laughter, Dragomir resumed playing with his gold. He was paying so much attention to his riches that I thought I just might be able to slip my legs through the chains on my wrists; I could then leap on him and try to strangle him with the chain joining my wrist. ‘If I can’t strangle Dragomir,’ I thought, ‘I might succeed at the very least to throw the sacks of gold overboard before he had the chance to kill me. I’d be dead, but they’d be poor…’ And so I tried that desperate plan and began struggling with my chains, pushing my hands low enough to get around my feet; yet I stopped when I felt Saskia’s hand touch softly my wrist. I hadn’t noticed that she had come from the bow. I looked at her with malice and resumed struggling with my chains, but she now held both her hands on my wrists—not with force, but with tenderness, with compassion; and she said, “Stop, Saul.”

  “You stop, Saskia!” I cried quietly to her as cold sweat poured down my cheeks, “Stop this is what I mean… After all we have meant to each other, you owe me at least the decency of helping me to die right now. Don’t make me stand here through all this humiliation. It is because of my death that you are rich, so treat me with respect: tell the executioner to do his work and quickly!” She didn’t say anything to all this, she just looked at me.

  “The way you look at me now, Saskia! It is compassion you have… You know that this is the first time you’ve looked at me for more than a second since I arrived in Tripoli? Please continue looking at me until I die. Look at me with compassion while the executioner does his dirty work. At least then, I can forgive for what you’ve done to me. With my forgiveness, you can live with a clean conscience after my death.”

  Dragomir heard me say this and he lost all interest in playing with his gold. Saskia looked at Dragomir at this moment and a tear rolled down her face. “Dragomir,” she said to him, “Please, Dragomir, the horizon is out of sight. No one can see our boat. Can we tell him now? He is suffering too much. Why must he wait so long?”

  “My God, you both are so serious!” said Dragomir, “And you, Saul, you poor, poor man! What you must be going through in that head of yours. I think I’ll give you the last revelation now, so as to make your burden less heavy. It all begins with a story that you will think is funny.” So saying, Dragomir came close to me. I noticed Adélaïse stood only a few steps away, watching and listening. As for Saskia, she still had her hand affectionately on my wrists that were bound in chains.

  “Saul… Do you remember that gentleman you met on the boat from Italy? The one who vaguely looked like you… Except he didn’t have quite so nice of a face as you. What was his name? Alfred, I think it was. Yes, that’s it, Alfred Pion. A Frenchman. Well, it’s a funny thing about Monsieur Pion, you see. He couldn’t manage to stay alive too long… I paid a couple ruffians to stab him with a dagger and then stuff his body in a coffin. After that was done, I had him brought to your king…

  “‘Voilà, Your Highness, Your Grace!’ I said, ‘You asked for him, and I brought him! The son of Solarus—stone dead!’ That idiot king trembled with such delight as he looked at the coffin; and when he opened it, he exploded with pleasure, as though he were a child opening the world’s greatest Christmas present. He saw his salvation in the dead face of Alfred Pion…

  “The king never saw you, the real son of Solarus, not once in his life, consequently, he quickly turned to his court advisors and asked if the dead body was really you. The advisors looked at each other with embarrassment. They also were unable to respond in the affirmative or the negative—for none of them had ever seen you either!… They talked amongst themselves and then responded by saying, ‘Your Highness, this man looks exactly like the portraits of the son of Solarus in circulation.’

  “And the king had to agree,” said Dragomir, ‘And so much was true! The portraits in the press did resemble Alfred as much as they resemble you. The king was easily convinced—so much so, that I wonder why no one over these past five years ever tried and succeeded in bringing a corpse that vaguely resembled you to the king to collect the twenty-five thousand gold louis. I certainly lucked-out, because your king really is a fool!”

  “He’s not my king,” I told Dragomir.

  “That’s right, you are exiled, aren’t you. Right now, you have no country. But the king of Libya is one of the biggest fools I ever met. He was so happy once his advisors identified the corpse properly as being you, he cried to me, “You lifted the curse, Monsieur! You saved my life! No wild-man’s son will take my power! I shall always be king!�
�� The fool then took me in his arms as though I were his son… How do you like that!—and the best part of it was your girl here… Boy, this Saskia is a brave and clever little one! I had no idea! It is thanks to her that we got the money as easily as we did. I was expecting to have to resort to some risky tactics in order to leave that palace with even a portion of the twenty-five thousand louis. Here’s what she did…

  “The king’s men closed the lid on the coffin, and began to talk about how ‘that affair was solved,’ and how now they could move on to other business. It was then I asked for my payment. I mentioned the reward offered not only in the press, but on documents carrying the royal seal. The king responded in a lukewarm tone, “Oh, yes, about that…” and he turned to his advisors, apparently to discuss the matter of whether I should be paid. Meanwhile they asked me to sit over in a chair a little ways away. I knew that kings are notoriously bad at keeping promises, especially when they involve giving money or property away, so I expected the worst and plotted my next move to get revenge and get my money…

  “It was while I was plotting away, that I was surprised to see Saskia enter. Your clever girl managed to get into the throne room to see the king without an introduction! She walked right over to him and knelt to kiss his hand. The two then began talking. I don’t know what her trick was to befriend him, but within minutes, she had him completely charmed! She then let him know all the details of her love affair with the ‘deceased’ son of Solarus: Your meeting in Barcelona, your life together in Paris, your trip to London together—although I know you two never did go to London together, did you?—as well as your romantic tour of Tuscany. All of that charade your girl was playing happened just a few paces from where I was sitting, waiting for the king. It was true she had him charmed, but I didn’t believe it would lead to anything. But then she really stole the show…