The Traveller had to suppress a smile. So the work which he had considered so difficult was easy. He said evasively, ‘You’re exaggerating my influence. The Commandant has read my letters of recommendation. He knows that I am no expert in judicial processes. If I were to express an opinion, it would be that of a lay person, no more significant than the opinion of anyone else, and in any case far less significant than the opinion of the Commandant, who, as I understand it, has very extensive powers in this penal colony. If his views of this procedure are as definite as you think they are, then I’m afraid the time has surely come for this procedure to end, without any need for my humble assistance.’
Did the Officer understand by now? No, he did not yet grasp it. He shook his head vigorously, briefly looked back at the Condemned Man and the Soldier, who both flinched and stopped eating the rice, went up really close to the Traveller, without looking into his face, but gazing at parts of his jacket, and said more gently than before: ‘You don’t know the Commandant. Where he and all of us are concerned you are – forgive the expression – to a certain extent innocent. Your influence, believe me, cannot be overestimated. In fact, I was blissfully happy when I heard that you were to be present at the execution by yourself. This arrangement of the Commandant was aimed at me, but now I’m turning it to my advantage. Without being distracted by false insinuations and disparaging looks – which could not have been avoided with a greater number of participants at the execution – you have listened to my explanation, looked at the machine, and are now about to view the execution. Your verdict is no doubt already fixed. If some small uncertainties still remain, witnessing the execution will remove them. And now I’m asking you – help me against the Commandant!’
The Traveller did not let him go on talking. ‘How can I do that?’ he cried. ‘It’s totally impossible. I can help you as little as I can harm you.’
‘You could do it,’ said the Officer. With some apprehension the Traveller observed that the Officer was clenching his fists. ‘You could do it,’ repeated the Officer, even more emphatically. ‘I have a plan which must succeed. You think your influence is insufficient. I know it will be enough. But assuming you’re right, doesn’t saving this procedure require one to try everything, even those methods which may possibly be inadequate? So listen to my plan. To carry it out, it’s necessary, above all, for you to keep as quiet as possible today in the colony about your verdict on this procedure. Unless someone asks you directly, you should not express any view whatsoever. But what you do say must be short and vague. People should notice that it has become difficult for you to speak about the subject, that you feel bitter, that, if you were to speak openly, you’d have to burst out cursing on the spot. I’m not asking you to lie, not at all. You should give only brief answers – something like, “Yes, I’ve seen the execution” or “Yes, I’ve heard the full explanation.” That’s all – nothing further. For that will be enough of an indication for people to observe in you a certain bitterness, even if that’s not what the Commandant will think. Naturally, he will completely misunderstand the issue and interpret it in his own way. My plan is based on that. Tomorrow a large meeting of all the higher administrative officials takes place at headquarters under the chairmanship of the Commandant. He, of course, understands how to turn such meetings into a spectacle. A gallery has been built, which is always full of spectators. I’m compelled to take part in the discussions, though they make me shiver with disgust. In any case, you will certainly be invited to the meeting. If you follow my plan today and behave accordingly, the invitation will become an emphatic request. But should you for some inexplicable reason still not be invited, you must make sure you request an invitation. Then you’ll receive one without question. Now, tomorrow you are sitting with the women in the Commandant’s box. With frequent upward glances he reassures himself that you are there. After various trivial and ridiculous agenda items designed only for the spectators – mostly harbour construction, always harbour construction! – the judicial process also comes up for discussion. If it’s not raised by the Commandant himself or does not occur soon enough, I’ll make sure that it comes up. I’ll stand up and report the news of today’s execution. Really briefly – just this announcement. True, such a report is not customary there; however, I’ll do it, nonetheless. The Commandant thanks me, as always, with a friendly smile. And now he cannot restrain himself. He seizes this excellent opportunity. “The report of the execution,” he’ll say, or something like that, “has just been given. I would like to add to this report only the fact that this particular execution was attended by the great explorer whose visit confers such extraordinary honour on our colony, as you all know. Even the significance of our meeting today has been increased by his presence. Do we not now wish to ask this great explorer for his appraisal of the execution based on old customs and of the process which preceded it?” Of course, there is the noise of applause everywhere, universal agreement. And I’m louder than anyone. The Commandant bows before you and says, “Then in everyone’s name, I’m putting the question to you.” And now you step up to the railing. Place your hands where everyone can see them. Otherwise the ladies will grab them and play with your fingers. And now finally come your remarks. I don’t know how I’ll bear the tense moments up to that point. In your speech you mustn’t hold back. Let truth resound. Lean over the railing and shout it out – yes, yes, roar your opinion at the Commandant, your unshakeable opinion. But perhaps you don’t want to do that. It doesn’t suit your character. Perhaps in your homeland people behave differently in such situations. That’s all right. That’s perfectly satisfactory. Don’t stand up at all. Just say a couple of words. Whisper them so that only the officials underneath you can hear them. That’s enough. You don’t even have to say anything at all about the lack of attendance at the execution or about the squeaky wheel, the torn strap, the disgusting felt. No. I’ll take over all further details, and, believe me, if my speech doesn’t chase him out of the room, it will force him to his knees, so he’ll have to admit it: “Old Commandant, I bow down before you.” That’s my plan. Do you want to help me carry it out? But, of course, you want to. More than that – you have to.’ And the Officer gripped the Traveller by both arms and looked at him, breathing heavily into his face. He had yelled the last sentences so loudly that even the Soldier and the Condemned Man were paying attention. Although they couldn’t understand a thing, they stopped eating and looked over at the Traveller, still chewing.
From the very start the Traveller had had no doubts about the answer he must give. He had experienced too much in his life to be able to waver here. Basically he was honest and unafraid. Still, with the Soldier and the Condemned Man looking at him, he hesitated a moment. But finally he said, as he had to, ‘No.’ The Officer’s eyes blinked several times, but he did not take his eyes off the Traveller. ‘Would you like an explanation?’ asked the Traveller. The Officer nodded dumbly. ‘I am opposed to this procedure,’ said the Traveller. ‘Even before you took me into your confidence – and, of course, I will never abuse your confidence under any circumstances – I was already thinking about whether I was entitled to intervene against this procedure and whether my intervention could have even a small chance of success. And if that was the case, it was clear to me whom I had to turn to first of all – naturally, to the Commandant. You have clarified the issue for me even more, but without reinforcing my decision in any way – quite the reverse. I find your conviction genuinely moving, even if it cannot deter me.’
The Officer remained silent, turned towards the machine, grabbed one of the brass rods, and then, leaning back a little, looked up at the Inscriber, as if he was checking that everything was in order. The Soldier and the Condemned Man seemed to have made friends with each other. The Condemned Man was making signs to the Soldier, although, given the tight straps on him, this was difficult for him to do. The Soldier was leaning into him. The Condemned Man whispered something to him, and the Soldier nodded.
The
Traveller went over to the Officer and said, ‘You don’t yet know what I’ll do. Yes, I will tell the Commandant my opinion of the procedure – not in a meeting, but in private. In addition, I won’t stay here long enough to be able to get called in to some meeting or other. Early tomorrow morning I leave, or at least I go on board ship.’
It did not look as if the Officer had been listening. ‘So the process has not convinced you,’ he said to himself and smiled the way an old man smiles over the silliness of a child, concealing his own true thoughts behind that smile.
‘Well then, it’s time,’ he said finally and suddenly looked at the Traveller with bright eyes which contained some sort of demand, some appeal for participation.
‘Time for what?’ asked the Traveller uneasily. But there was no answer.
‘You are free,’ the Officer told the Condemned Man in his own language. At first the man did not believe him. ‘You are free now,’ said the Officer. For the first time the face of the Condemned Man showed signs of real life. Was it the truth? Was it only the Officer’s mood, which could change? Had the foreign Traveller brought him a reprieve? What was it? That is what the man’s face seemed to be asking. But not for long. Whatever the case might be, if he could he wanted to be truly free, and he began to shake back and forth, as much as the Harrow permitted.
‘You’re tearing my straps,’ cried the Officer. ‘Be still! We’ll undo them right away.’ And, giving a signal to the Soldier, he set to work with him. The Condemned Man said nothing and smiled slightly to himself. At times he turned his face to the Officer on the left and at times to the Soldier on the right, without ignoring the Traveller.
‘Pull him out,’ the Officer ordered the Soldier. This process required a certain amount of care because of the Harrow. The Condemned Man already had a few small wounds on his back, thanks to his own impatience.
From this point on, however, the Officer paid no more attention to him. He went up to the Traveller, pulled out the small leather folder once more, leafed through it, finally found the sheet he was looking for, and showed it to the Traveller. ‘Read that,’ he said.
‘I can’t,’ said the Traveller. ‘I’ve already told you I can’t read these pages.’
‘But take a close look at the page,’ said the Officer and moved up right next to the Traveller in order to read with him. When that didn’t help, he raised his little finger high up over the paper, as if the page must not be touched under any circumstances, so that using this he might make the task of reading easier for the Traveller. The Traveller also made an effort so that at least he could satisfy the Officer, but it was impossible for him. At that point the Officer began to spell out the inscription, and then he read out once again the joined up letters. “Be just!” it states,’ he said. ‘Now you can read it.’ The Traveller bent so low over the paper that the Officer, afraid that he might touch it, moved it further away. The Traveller didn’t say anything more, but it was clear that he was still unable to read anything. ‘“Be just!” it says,’ the Officer remarked once again. ‘That could be,’ said the Traveller. ‘I do believe that’s written there.’ ‘Good,’ said the Officer, at least partially satisfied. He climbed up the ladder, holding the paper. With great care he set the page in the Inscriber and appeared to rotate the gear mechanism completely around. This was very tiring work. It must have required him to deal with extremely small wheels. He had to inspect the gears so closely that sometimes the Officer’s head disappeared completely into the Inscriber.
The Traveller followed this work from below without looking away. His neck grew stiff, and his eyes found the sunlight pouring down from the sky painful. The Soldier and the Condemned Man were keeping each other busy. With the tip of his bayonet the Soldier pulled out the Condemned Man’s shirt and trousers which were lying in the hole. The shirt was horribly dirty, and the Condemned Man washed it in the bucket of water. When he was putting on his shirt and trousers, the Soldier and the Condemned Man had to laugh out loud, for the pieces of clothing were cut in two up the back. Perhaps the Condemned Man thought that it was his duty to amuse the Soldier. In his ripped-up clothes he circled in front of the Soldier, who crouched down on the ground, laughed, and slapped his knees. But they still restrained themselves out of consideration for the two gentlemen present.
When the Officer was finally finished up on the machine, with a smile he looked over the whole thing and all its parts once more, and this time closed the cover of the Inscriber, which had been open up to this point. He climbed down, looked into the hole and then at the Condemned Man, observed with satisfaction that his clothes had been hauled out, then went to the bucket of water to wash his hands, recognized too late that it was disgustingly dirty, and was upset that now he could not wash his hands. Finally he pushed them into the sand. This option did not satisfy him, but he had to do what he could in the circumstances. Then he stood up and began to unbutton the coat of his uniform. As he did this, the two lady’s handkerchiefs, which he had pushed into the back of his collar, fell into his hands. ‘Here you have your handkerchiefs,’ he said and threw them over to the Condemned Man. And to the Traveller he said by way of an explanation, ‘Presents from the ladies.’
In spite of the obvious speed with which he took off the coat of his uniform and then undressed himself completely, he handled each piece of clothing very carefully, even running his fingers over the silver braids on his tunic with special care and shaking a tassel into place. But in great contrast to this care, as soon as he was finished handling an article of clothing, he immediately flung it angrily into the hole. The last items he had left were his short sword and its harness. He pulled the sword out of its scabbard, broke it in pieces, then gathered up everything – the pieces of the sword, the scabbard, and the harness – and threw them away so forcefully that they rattled against each other down in the pit.
Now he stood there naked. The Traveller bit his lip and said nothing. For he was aware what would happen, but he had no right to hinder the Officer in any way. If the judicial process to which the Officer clung was really so close to the point of being cancelled – possibly as a result of the intervention of the Traveller, something to which he for his part felt duty-bound – then the Officer was now acting in a completely correct manner. In his place, the Traveller would not have acted any differently.
The Soldier and the Condemned Man at first did not understand a thing. To begin with they did not look, not even once. The Condemned Man was extremely happy to get the handkerchiefs back, but he was not permitted to enjoy them very long, because the Soldier snatched them from him with a quick grab, which he had not anticipated. The Condemned Man then tried to pull the handkerchiefs out from the Soldier’s belt, where he had put them for safe keeping, but the Soldier was watching carefully. So they were fighting, half in jest. Only when the Officer was fully naked did they start to pay attention. The Condemned Man especially seemed to be struck by a premonition of some sort of significant transformation. What had happened to him was now taking place with the Officer. Perhaps this time the procedure would play itself out to its conclusion. The foreign Traveller had probably given the order for it. So that was revenge. Without having suffered all the way to the end himself, nonetheless he would be completely avenged. A wide, silent laugh now appeared on his face and never went away.
The Weird: A Compendium of Strange and Dark Stories Page 33