by Dino Buzzati
The Secret of Artichoke Park.
“One evening,” said the Professor, “as I was going for a stroll in Artichoke Park…”
“Where my Chamberlain, Saltpetre, lives?” interrupted King Leander.
“I know nothing of that,” said the wizard. “I only know that while I was wandering through the shrubbery I suddenly raised my eyes above the treetops, and you will never guess what I saw!”
“A bird?” suggested Leander, gripped by curiosity, “or a monster, perhaps?”
“I saw a palace, all of marble, illuminated in every window and gleaming in the night. Pricked by curiosity, I approached. Music and laughter sounded from the windows, as if a great feast were in progress. Then at ground level I noticed other illuminated openings. I bent down to inspect. And there I saw an immense cellar, bigger than a church, and along the walls there were huge barrels from which the wine was pouring out. And laden tables, and bottles of spirits everywhere, and musicians playing, and servants coming and going, carrying monumental cakes – and seated at table—”
“Who? Who?” interrupted Leander again.
“Your bears, Your Majesty, your bears! Drunk as lords, every one of them, and bawling out improper songs! Some dressed in rich cloaks, some in evening dress, some sprawled out in indecent postures, some broaching the barrels so as to let the wine pour straight down their throats, some unconscious under the table!”
“It is a slander!” panted King Leander.
“I saw it with my own eyes – I swear I did!” protested the wizard.
“Very well, I shall go and see for myself at once. And if I find you’re making it up, I’ll make you pay for it.”
The King wasted no time. Night had already fallen. Accompanied by a bodyguard, he went to Artichoke Park – and there, above the heavy darkness of the trees, he beheld the gleaming domes of a fantastic palace, with lights twinkling like stars. Foaming with rage he advanced, hoping to catch the drunkards red-handed. But when he emerged from the midst of the wood and reached the road, the marvellous palace had vanished. In its place was a wretched hut with one small lit window. The King went closer.
He burst open the door and found his Chamberlain, Saltpetre, reading a large book by the light of an oil lamp.
“What are you doing here at this hour, Saltpetre?”
“I am studying the laws of the Constitution, Your Majesty, and this is my modest abode.”
But Leander was sniffing about the room. There was such a curious smell in the air… strange… one would have said a smell of flowers, food and good wine. The King began to have his suspicions.
But what could he say then and there? “Goodnight, Saltpetre,” he stammered. “I was just walking this way by chance, you know, so I dropped in to pay you a short visit.” And he went out, somewhat embarrassed, and returned to his palace brooding on the mystery.
All that night he could not sleep. Tormenting doubts rolled round and round in his mind.
Had the wizard lied?
But if so, how had he, Leander, also seen the palace beyond the trees?
But then how had the palace managed to vanish so suddenly?
Was it an enchanted palace?
But who could work spells except the wizard?
But had not the wizard’s magic wand been stolen?
Then who could work such magic except the thief?
And what was Saltpetre doing in that solitary hut? And how to explain that strange smell of roast meat and wine?
Was Saltpetre implicated in this wretched affair?
But Leander’s indignation reached its peak at dawn when they came to announce the third mysterious event to him, namely:
The Robbery of the Great Universal Bank.
Armed and masked bandits had assaulted the palace by night, killed the security guards, forced the iron doors and made off with the hoard. There wasn’t a penny left in the state coffers.
And the culprits? Saltpetre demonstrated with very convincing arguments that they could have been no ordinary criminals. They were certainly criminals under the leadership of a cunning man who must be versed in mechanics and knowledgeable in science. One man only, according to Saltpetre, could have organized such a crime. And his name was Ambrose.
It seemed to Leander then as if a veil had fallen from his eyes: why had he not realized it sooner? Why had he not thought of it himself? But now all was explained: Ambrose was jealous of the bears on whom he had used up his two spells; Ambrose had pretended that his magic wand had been stolen, in order to prevent the King asking further favours of him and in order to bring discredit on the animals. Ambrose, still in order to slander the bears, had invented the story of the nocturnal banquet in the cellar (and if he, Leander, had thought for an instant that he too had seen the palace, he must have deceived himself). Finally, Ambrose, avid for power and wealth, had organized the bank robbery!
Ambrose was arrested half an hour later, at the express command of the King, and all his protests were in vain. They loaded him with chains and locked him up in the deepest and darkest dungeon.
But meanwhile – let’s just see a minute – what is a certain bear called Dandelion doing, looking all round the bank, among the comings and goings of the policemen charged with the inquiry? He usually wandered round the city with such a silly expression on his face that people thought he was soft in the head.
“Off you go, quick march!” the security guards shout at him.
But instead, he stays put. He giggles stupidly as if he has not understood, and meanwhile he contrives to peer around, especially where the thieves’ footprints are most evident – that is, in front of the iron doors of the treasure chamber, which are lying on the ground, torn off their hinges.
“Was it Ambrose?” Dandelion asks himself incredulously, and he bends down to pick up from the ground six or seven hairs which have escaped the eye of the local police. He sniffs them and looks at them against the light.
“Put that down, nosey!” shouts a man on duty to him. “What was that you just picked up?”
“Nothing, only some hairs.”
“Hairs? Let me see at once,” and the detective had barely seen them before he began to shriek: “Hairs from the beard of the wizard! Chief Inspector! Chief Inspector! Here’s the decisive proof.”
Yet Dandelion still laughs his silly laugh. They have nothing to do with a beard, nothing to do with the wizard! He has recognized them at once: they are bears’ hairs – he would stake his life on it.
Alas! Is it the bears after all who have committed this crime? Then Ambrose is innocent. But now, how to put King Leander on his guard? How to persuade him? How to save Ambrose from the gallows? Dandelion has been keeping his eyes open for a while now. He knows many things in addition to this business of the treasure, of which King Leander hasn’t the faintest notion. And now there is not a moment to lose. At the risk of giving him a rude shock, the King must be warned. Dandelion decides to send him a letter.
Chapter 10
So, by first post next morning King Leander received the following note, which we transcribe word for word with all its spelling mistakes (for at school Dandelion had always been something of a dunce).
“Dear King, You have a frend you should not trust,
And now he wants you to comit injus-
Tice, for an inocent is being locked up
And so of course the theef is verry bucked up.
You say: “Why don’t you give the name you’ve writen of?”
And I reply: “My head might well get biten off!”
But some fine evening shortly when you have a new
Suit on, go down to 5 Acacia Avenue,
And you’ll be grateful you were sent to spy on
Such doings, Yours sinserely,
Dandelion.”
What fresh devilry was this? A new mystery? Were there not enough already? The King hardly
knew where to turn. But he had always liked Dandelion and he decided to follow his advice. When it was night he put on an evening dress for the first time in his life (for he detested clothes of any sort) and went entirely alone to the place indicated. The streets were all deserted.
No. 5 Acacia Avenue was an elegant villa. The King knocked, the door was opened, a liveried major-domo conducted him up a flight of stairs, and at the top of the stairs – wonder of wonders! – there was a great hall. There Leander, paralysed with amazement, saw scores of highly elegant bears – some even wearing monocles – playing at cards and gambling. A hubbub of voices was heard. “Well played! Capot!” cried one. “Ten thousand – no, twenty thousand to me!” And another cried: “Curses on it, they’ve broken the bank! I’m ruined! Brutes!” Piles of gold coins kept changing hands, passing from one to another with extraordinary rapidity in this capricious game of chance. Here and there quarrels broke out. Depravity and disgrace! But the King’s blood froze in his veins when his gaze reached the end of the hall. Do you know what he saw? Tony, his son, squandering his princely revenues and already down to his last few pennies. Seated with him at the table were three sinister bears who looked real ruffians. One of them said: “Get a move on, youngster, you still owe me five hundred ducats” – and he said it in such a way that Tony, frightened and without a penny in his pocket, took from his neck a precious gold chain given him by his father for his twenty-first birthday and threw it down on the green cloth.
“You wretch!” cried the King at this point from the doorway, and he dashed across the hall, seized his young son by the collar – paying no attention to the protests of the gamblers, who did not recognize him – dragged him first to the exit and then, without saying a word, straight back to the palace. Little Tony, humiliated, was sobbing.
And now for energetic measures. The very next morning, the shameful gambling house was raided by the police, but only the staff were there, and nobody knew who the proprietor was. The house had three storeys.
Ground floor:
Roulette room, bar and cloakroom.
First floor:
Large room for card-playing and strong room where the mysterious proprietor amassed his gains.
Second floor:
Kitchen and banquet hall.
Third and last floor:
Pantry, servants’ hall with a billiard table and a punishment room where gamblers who were found out cheating were first beaten with carpet beaters and then obliged to learn improving poetry by heart such as ‘The Grasshopper and the Ant’ (this was because the establishment, with great hypocrisy, took pains to make it appear that the house was frequented only by respectable bears).
All this staggered King Leander. So the arrest of the wizard had not been enough to stop the rot. Who was really the owner of this gambling house? And why had Dandelion not had the courage to explain himself more clearly? The more the King thought about it, the more confused his ideas became. But he always returned to one conclusion: someone, who was not Professor Ambrose, was sowing crime and corruption among the bears. There must be someone rich, powerful and very cunning at work behind the scenes, taking good care not to be discovered. If they did not unmask him forthwith, farewell peace and tranquillity!
Then King Leander, in order to take counsel and explore his options, ordered a general assembly. Men and bears, leaving their amusements or their business, met together in the square, where the following dialogue took place:
The King, in tragic tones:
Respond! Which of you stole the magic wand?
The men in chorus:
No, not we!
The bears, ditto:
Nor me, nor me!
The King:
Saltpetre, can you guess
Who started all this wickedness?
Saltpetre:
I wonder, Sire, to see you waste a thought
Upon such trifles. It is really nought.
The King:
And I suppose you think they wove a spell
To steal the treasure from the bank as well?
Saltpetre:
Enough, enough, Sire, kindly disabuse
Your mind of such sad thoughts. I bring good news.
The King:
First let me finish, you can tell me then.
Who is the owner of that gambling den?
The Men in chorus:
O King. ’twere best to let things be,
It can but bring you misery.
Saltpetre (holding up a sheet of paper):
I wonder how this monument will strike you,
Is it not like you?
It was a drawing of an immense statue representing King Leander himself – and as even bears have their share of vanity, all the King’s worries vanished in a trice. “Oh, my worthy Saltpetre!” he cried, much moved, “it is only now that I realize how fond you are of me. To think that I ever doubted it, even for a moment!” And he at once forgot all the problems.
This time – and I am sorry to have to admit it, but it is true – King Leander really behaved like a great simpleton. The thought of the monument made him forget himself completely. His other preoccupations vanished as if by magic. Who cared about Ambrose? Who cared about the crimes? Who cared about the gambling den? Leander at once sent a battalion of bears to quarry marble from the mountains, engaged engineers, masons and stone-cutters and ordered work to be started.
In a short time, the immense statue began to rise upward stone by stone, on the top of a hill commanding the city. From there it could be seen scores of miles away. Hundreds of bears laboured at it day and night, and every so often the King visited the site, where the chamberlain explained everything to him. Very soon, stone by stone, they reached the head. The muzzle of a gigantic bear began to appear against the blue skyline. Engineers flew over the city in hot-air balloons or small airships to judge the effect.
“But why is the muzzle so long?” thought Leander. “My muzzle is nothing like as long as that. One would really think it was Saltpetre, seen from a distance.”
However, he had not the courage to say so openly, in order not to hurt anybody’s feelings. The majestic statue towered over the city, the bay and the distant sea, and in three days it was to be unveiled.
But as it is one of the laws of existence that we can never sit back and live in peace, a little group of fishermen came running into the marketplace in the grip of terror: “Help! help!” they cried. “The end of the world is coming!”
They said that an immense sea serpent had appeared – who, rearing his gigantic head and neck from the waves, had swooped down on the shore and already devoured three houses and a church, including the parish priest and the sacristan.
Chapter 11
Men:
Monster of the deep
From the world outside,
What do you betide,
Joy or tears to weep?
The Serpent:
No, my fatal hiss
Speaks of tenebrous
Mysteries none knows
From the black abyss.
Men:
From the black abyss
Jesus crucified,
Who for our sake died,
Will bring us all to bliss.
The Serpent:
Hear the passing bell,
Death and doom are yours
In the venomed jaws
Of the gates of hell!
Men:
Fiery pestilence
O’er the kingdom runs.
Fly, you mothers, hence!
Save your little ones!
Then all the mothers ran out of their houses on the shore, carrying their children in their arms; and the men too took flight – and so did the dogs, and so did the birds who can fly! But to save the city King Leander went down to the sea with his
bravest bears and boarded a barque to fight the monster. He himself was armed with a powerful harpoon, the others with firearms and arquebuses. Saltpetre was there too, with a large rifle: although the King had told him he might stay at home, he had absolutely insisted on coming too. While an immense crowd gathered on the shore watching with bated breath, the little ship, vigorously propelled by the oarsmen, left the shore and approached the terrible serpent which alternately raised and lowered its head among the waves foaming with terror.
Leander, standing right on the bow, lifted his harpoon, ready to strike the first blow.
And behold: there rose from the waves a great round neck as thick as a tree trunk, ending in the most terrifying head it is possible to imagine. The serpent opened his mouth like an enormous cavern and threw himself upon the fragile bark. Then Leander hurled the harpoon.
Whistling through the air, the shaft went swift as lightning and buried itself in the monster’s throat at least three spans deep. A loud detonation followed – the King’s companions had fired simultaneously, to deliver the final blow.
For a moment the barque was hidden in a dense cloud of smoke from the firing. Then, while the sea serpent sank in a fountain of blood and a tremendous shout of joy echoed from shore to shore, the wind blew the smoke away. And then they saw.
In the bow of the little vessel, King Leander lay on his back, a rivulet of blood trickling from between his shoulder blades. At the same time, one of the oarsmen threw down his oar, jumped to his feet brandishing an axe, sprang towards the Chamberlain, Saltpetre, and with a single stroke severed the head from his body. It was the bear Dandelion.
Tragedy!
Having embarked on purpose to keep an eye on Saltpetre, the gallant detective bear had witnessed everything: profiting by the general confusion, the Chamberlain had fired not at the monster but at his King. Alas! the timid Dandelion had suspected the truth for some time, but had not had the courage to tell his sovereign: namely, that it was Saltpetre who had stolen the magic wand, Saltpetre who was responsible for the banquets in the cellar of the enchanted palace, Saltpetre who had robbed the bank, Saltpetre who had organized the gambling den, Saltpetre who had plotted to destroy Leander and usurp his crown. Even the statue had been meant for him, Saltpetre, and not for the King, who had never had such a long muzzle. But Dandelion, always hoping that the Chamberlain would betray himself of his own accord, had contented himself with telling Leander about the affair of the gambling den. And now it was too late.