B008GRP3XS EBOK

by Wiesiek Powaga

  "Oh, my heart, how it's pounding," the king muttered to himself as he sat in a chair. "He has me scared now, damn him. Hold my hands, I may forget myself when the time comes, lose my strength and presence of mind, and who knows, maybe even my soul."

  Twardowski drew a circle on the ground with a long staff, muttered some magic formulae and ordered the last lamp that was giving faint light in the huge room to be taken away. It was dark as in a grave. The king was silent, trembling with anticipation. By his side stood the two footmen holding his hands and the old jester; the rest were sent away. At first they heard a distant murmur, like the surging of spring rivers, then a howling wind, so strong it seemed to be pushing the old Wawel castle off its granite bedrock. The magician's voice rose and fell, some inhuman force tugged at the chains and clasps of the great book as he turned its pages covered with fiery characters. Then the gale abated. The castle clock began to chime the midnight hour. Augustus felt weak. He squeezed the hand of one of the lackeys and cried out: "Help me!"

  The astrologer pronounced his terrifying formulae again in a great voice. The huge doors burst from their hinges and a great gust of wind brought into the middle of the room a woman's figure, clad in white and luminous, as if bathed in Bengal light. It was the late queen. She looked just as she had that last evening: lilies at her side, hands crossed on her breasts, a -smile from beyond this world and eyes closed.

  For a brief moment Augustus lost his senses, but he came around before his courtiers hurried with smelling salts. He saw the ghost; his face turned white as a sheet, veins bulged on his brow, his eyes burnt with unearthly fire. He jumped to his feet, stretched out his hands and threw himself forward, falling, ready to press the ghost to his heart, to pour his own soul into it: "Barbara! My dear wife!"

  The servants who, frightened by the vision, had forgotten their duties, managed to catch him just in time, one by the coat, the other by the hand. The spectre disappeared; only the voice of angry Twardowski echoed between the walls.

  "Light! Bring in the light! The king's passed out. Call in the doctor. Quick! Help!"

  Soon a crowd of woken courtiers poured into the room with lamps and torches, the whole castle was up on their feet. Strange rumours were being passed from mouth to mouth; Augustus was carried senseless in his chair back to his bedroom where Simon of Ginzburg waited by his bedside.

  Every night, till the end of his life - or as the folk tales have it, until the devil, on the strength of the verbum nobile given to the seven year contract, laid his hands on him in the inn called Rome and dragged him to Hell - Twardowski visited the king in his royal chambers where both discussed weighty and mysterious matters. He foretold the king's death at the age of seventy two, and so the young monarch thought it safe to enjoy life while he could, putting off his penance for the sins of youth till later. But after years of indulging in all the worldly pleasures his vital powers were soon diminished and he joined his forefathers twenty years earlier than predicted, that is in 1572, at the age of fifty two.

  The virgin maid rescued by Twardowski from the mob's frenzy, spent the following years hidden in the cave on Krzemionki, and to her master's surprise made great progress in the art of magic. In one respect, his prediction came true: used by the king in alleviating his various weaknesses, which she cured with herbs and magic, showered with gold and precious stones, she ruled the court, as well as the king's heart for a long time, and like an evil spirit stayed with him at the hour of his death. She was well known from our secret history, the king's favourite, Barbara Gizanka.

  I ran into Doctor M., our district physician, in Witebsk where we both happened to be on business. After a chat about this and that the doctor said:

  "And where are you going to dine?"

  "Wherever the good Lord will serve me," I said. "With money one can easily find dinner in a town."

  "Let's go to the Karlissons', his food is always first rate."

  "But won't it be too dear for a nobleman?"

  "No dearer than anywhere else, and even if it is it'll be tastier. No need to stint oneself."

  I agreed. And so we entered a huge room where we found a small group of guests. They were eating, drinking, smoking pipes, laughing at each other, imitating and mocking all the vices and eccentricities of the people they knew, jeering at everybody, sparing neither women nor the old.

  Seated at a table I observed those jesters with surprise as, roaring with laughter, they showed off their wits, all the while examining themselves from top to toe in the mirror. "It's good sometimes to visit a tavern," said the doctor. "People are quicker to take off their masks here and one can get a good look at who they really are."

  He had scarcely finished saying these words when a man entered the room. He was tall, with bristling, thick hair, restless eyes and a round but pale face, as if it contained only bile and water. All turned their eyes on him while he sat on the sofa and, holding his head, moaned: "Oh, they give me no peace." He asked for a glass of rum, drank half of it and, as if sunken in thought, sat in silence for a few minutes; then he got up and looked at himself in the mirror, put a hand on his head and said: "Oh, now at last they are still and have gone quiet for a while." While everybody looked at him in astonishment my companion said:

  "You're sick, it seems to me, you must have a headache. I don't think the rum is going to help, more likely it'll do you harm."

  "No one asked your advice."

  "I'm a doctor, it's my duty."

  "You may be a doctor but you haven't guessed the nature of my suffering. You'd better tell me what's the easiest way to die, as I've no hope of getting better and I'm sure to die soon.

  "My science aims to prolong human life and doesn't advise on death, for death will meet us anyway."

  "Death will meet us, true, who doesn't know that?"

  "Yes, that truth is known to all, but not everybody likes to think about it."

  "Sure, when life is kind. But anyone who suffers as I do, will have no regret in leaving the world."

  "So, pray, what is the nature of your suffering?"

  "Hair! Hair has poisoned my life!"

  As he said that, the circle of merry guests at the other side burst out laughing and one could hear their voices saying:

  "Eh, and wasn't it a lovely tress?"

  "Shouldn't have cut it off, should you? There's a good reason here, they say, that in doing that you cut the bond of mutual feeling."

  "But it did bother him though, the hair, so he cut it off and it came back to life in the moonlight."

  "Had no respect, and it was lovely singing hair."

  "Look, look - even in the sunshine it moves as if it's alive."

  Hearing these jests the suffering man looked at them in anger, jumped up from his chair and started pacing the room silently.

  Then the company of men left, and on leaving one of them said:

  "Good health, dear Henry, drink some more rum and all will be well."

  "That's what I've come to," said Henry turning to the doctor. "I've become a laughing stock for callous people who take delight in making fun of someone else's misery. Everywhere, wherever I meet them, they try to increase my torment by mocking the awful events in my past."

  "Your nerves are too sensitive if you take offence from such people," the doctor said. "Sitting here I was able to observe what they were like, and with no shame they heaped stinging and unkind words on everybody they knew in town."

  "I was a different man once, indifferent to laughter and mockery alike, nothing offended my sensibilities. It's the hair, it has ruined my whole life!"

  Presently he fell silent as if listening to something, and suddenly pointing to his hair, "Here," he said, "one has just sung and the others are moving, soon they'll be crying out all together. You cannot see what is happening on my head!" And having said that he turned back to his glass and quickly finished off the rum.

  "Listen to my words," said the doctor. "Ask for some water and sugar and mix them together, at least that w
ill do less harm. My advice is to relinquish your present treatment altogether."

  The man took his glass and stood in front of the mirror touching his hair. Then he turned to the doctor and, measuring him up with an anxious eye, he said:

  "I'll give it up if you find a better one for me. However I shall not disregard the first part of your advice." And having said that he asked to be served water ... and drank a glass of punch.

  "Tell me the story of your life. If I know how your suffering began it may be that I can find a way to help you."

  "Can you find a way to bring back the past?"

  "The past teaches us how to use the present."

  "My illness is new, neither simple people with their instinct nor the medics with their science have yet discovered the herb that can cure it. But I see in you a sincere desire to help me in my misery and so I shall tell you the more important incidents that have befallen me in my life:

  I was my parents' only child. In childhood I did not know what it meant to be refused anything. Servants attended to my every whim and a home tutor taught me the basics of French in a most gentle way, so as to avoid unpleasant thoughts and stimulate happy ones, a state of mind which our worldly society holds in higher esteem than a thorough learning in the sciences.

  When I was fifteen my father sent me to Riga for a year so that I could improve my acquaintance with the French and German tongues from the best teachers, and acquire a proper taste in all the things which find approval in the eyes of the luminaries reigning in the salons.

  He gave me more money than my needs warranted and I encountered none but the flower of youth as I led a merry life. Nobody told me then that time passes without returning, that man's health is weak and succumbs to sorrowful changes, and that the joy of happy years is but a dream.

  Following my return home I spent my time hunting from dawn to dusk. My father spared no expense in the upkeep of rifles, greyhounds and dogs, and I was allowed to make use of them for as long as I wanted; I had beautiful horses and would buy fashionable carriages.

  After a few years my fellow citizens elected me to office in the district. In town I found many friends, my house resounded with fun and parties during which my guests often greeted the dawn, drinking wine and playing cards.

  Thus four years went by; then my parents passed away. I returned home resolved to take care of the estate and found it weighed down by debt. My father's creditors were arriving from everywhere demanding their money with threats and the courts were asking for unpaid taxes. I realised the danger and for the first time turned my attention to the future.

  "You have to marry," said my neighbour, "Miss Amelia, daughter of the commissioner who administers the estates of G., a beautiful girl, well brought up and, from what I hear, with a dowry in excess of ten thousand silver roubles. Her father put away a handy little fortune as a commissioner and an administrator, and it is a matter of little concern that he is not connected with the local gentry who elect themselves as they please to the district offices. In your circumstances money is needed, not family connections, which, in my opinion, are of no consequence anyway." I saw that my neighbour's advice was truth itself, agreed to the choice and asked him for help in urging my suit. Ten thousand silver roubles, or even less, would be enough to relieve the estate of the burden of debt and moreover, the many virtues of the commissioner's daughter were well known in the district. And so, to bring these arguments to the right conclusion we both went to pay her parents a visit.

  Seeing Amelia for the first time I noted the full extent of her beauty - her lovely figure might serve as the model for a most beautiful painting, her face radiated mildness of temper, her blue eyes reflected quiet melancholy and a pleasant dreaminess. Conversing with her about the future and the changeable fortunes of this world I learnt that through the influence of upbringing and inborn humility she believed in intuition and the unfathomable mysteries of nature. My neighbour candidly informed her mother and father of the needs of my estate, and both Amelia and her parents agreed to the match. After the wedding I was the happiest of men; I brought my wife into my house and paid off all my debts.

  "Ah, why didn't I believe in intuition? Doctor, will you agree that in an angel's quiet voice a sensitive human soul can hear a warning far better than the wisdom acquired through experience and science?"

  "One can see it often enough," said the doctor, "but not everybody possesses such an instinct."

  "Why did I refuse to believe Amelia's loving heart?"

  "On what account? And with what consequence?"

  For three years we were both happy, and even though on occasions our thoughts and ideas crossed in conversation we always managed to make peace, as Amelia, in answer to my stubbornness, would quickly choose another subject to avoid a quarrel.

  One fine spring evening we went out for a stroll to the nearby woods which were full of singing birds. Amelia, walking along the path, would often grow silent.

  "I observe," I said, "that something must be whispering in your ear, for you don't answer me and you drift away with your melancholy thoughts."

  "Indeed, some kind of longing comes upon me, I don't know why."

  "Is it the songs of the cuckoos and nightingales that affect you so?"

  "It may be," she answered in a quiet voice.

  As we were talking I saw a hunched old man dressed in black coming down a little path which crossed the wood from the left. He had a pale face, clear bright eyes under his bushy eyebrows, and on his back hung a basket covered with a black russet cloak. I was curious to know who this strange man was and from where he was travelling. When we met I asked him:

  "Who are you and where are you coming from, little father?"

  He took off his old, crumpled hat and bowing low he said:

  "I live in the wide world, looking for kind benefactors, warring against the prejudice and human folly of dreams." This answer stirred in me a need to pursue the conversation further.

  "And for what reasons," I said, "have you waged this war against prejudice and human dreams?"

  "For the reason that people failed to understand me and their own advantage. I have travelled around the world, learnt all about human needs and studied the most secret mysteries of nature. I wanted to bring solace and relief to the inhabitants of this poor and barren land, but instead of a reward they threw curses at me, denying me a peaceful refuge."

  "What did you do," I asked, "for the inhabitants of this land?"

  "I wanted to do good but was twice repaid with persecution. I cannot forget it though more than twenty years have passed since. I discovered a method of producing gold and wanted to improve and share it with the local citizens. Lord X, a rich man, had an estate near Polock and a house in town where he lived, and where he also gave me a small room to pursue my work. But, a terrible accident happened there. I once left the door to my room open and on the table, wrapped in a piece of paper, was a special white powder used in many applications of this science. Lord X's wife came into the room and took some of the powder thinking it to be a medicine for headaches. She asked for a glass of water, poured in the powder, drank it and soon died. Persecuted by the courts I, an innocent man, had to flee and find myself a refuge elsewhere. I turned to Lord Y, offering to disclose to him my wonderful secret. We arranged for a test at midnight at the cemetery but this gentleman and his servant whose assistance was needed, lacked the strength to withstand the test of the great work and fainted. Fearing to be persecuted anew I left them there, lying in the cemetery, and escaped. I never returned to those parts and made a resolution never to disclose my secret to the world again."

  "And what do you have concealed in the basket?"

  "I carry rabbits with me," he answered. "If a kind master will let me have a simple house somewhere for my lodgings I'll start breeding them; they breed fast and in no time I shall have good sustenance in my poor state."

  "Lift the cloak and show me your rabbits." Scarcely had he done so when Amelia backed off and cried ou
t with fear:

  "Ali! Ali! what horrible bats! Cover them, cover them quickly, I can't bear to look at these monsters."

  I looked at her in astonishment for, truly, all I could see were young black rabbits. The old man gave her a quick, sharp glance and said:

  "Look closer, my lady, these are young black rabbits. They haven't grown up properly yet." And holding one of them by the ears he took it out of the basket.

  "Ah! Ali! what a horrible bat! Have mercy on me, please don't show it, put it back in the basket. I don't want to, I can't look at such a monstrosity."

  Thinking that in this exaggerated fear there was only Amelia's fancy and stubbornness, I invited the old man to spend the night at the Grange and promised him that next day I should give him his own lodgings. He bowed and made his way towards the manor. We walked home in silence. Amelia looked unusually worried; she was pale and had tears in her eyes. I was looking at her in surprise, searching my mind for possible reasons why she should be denying such an obvious truth - for with my own eyes I had seen only young rabbits. In the end I broke the silence and said:

  "Well, Amelia? Do you still insist that the old man had bats in his basket? It's a strange caprice to mock an old man and accuse him of lying."

  "I didn't mean to mock him," she said, "but I trust my own eyes.

  "I am sorry that you offended the poor man. You could see yourself from his conversation he is a naturally intelligent man, and a scholar. It's a shame he should be so unhappy."

  "His gaze and that terrible face ... Why did we have to stop him? W e should have let him go...

  "Your strange mood today surprises me. I mean to keep him here for much longer. I intend to give the poor soul a refuge and let him stay on the estate for as long as he wants."

  Amelia said not a word. The quarrel was over and we returned home in silence.

  Not far from the manor house, near the river, stood a lone house surrounded by fir-trees. In my father's day it was occupied by a serf and his family, but later I moved them to a nearby village, incorporating into the estate the land they had worked. The following day I rose early and took the old man to this house where he might have a quiet refuge in his last years. He thanked me and once inside let his rabbits out of the basket. He lived alone. Sometimes he wandered about the fields and shady woods, not sleeping at night, often appearing in different places in his black cloak like a terrible spectre. Seeing him in the moonlight the villagers were afraid to approach and would run away from him as if from a ghost. Strange stories began to circulate about him in the neighbourhood. People were telling each other that at midnight they saw a flock of bats above his roof, and that owls and ravens were at his beck and call.