The Gothamites

by Eno Raud

  Copyright © Eno Raud, 2016

  Copyright © Priit Pärn ja Tänapäev, 2016

  Originally published as Kilplased by Tänapäev, 2000, Estonia

  English language translation © Adam Cullen, 2019

  first Elsewhere Editions printing, 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available upon request.

  Distributed by Penguin Random House

  www.penguinrandomhouse.com

  This work was made possible by the New York State Council on the Arts with the support of Governor Andrew M. Cuomo and the New York State Legislature.

  Elsewhere Editions also gratefully acknowledges the generous support of the Carl Lesnor Family Foundation, Lannan Foundation, the Estonian Cultural Endowment, Traducta, the National Endowment for the Arts, and the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs.

  Ebook ISBN 9781939810298

  v5.4

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  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  How the Gothamites Became Stupid

  Building the Council Chamber

  How the Gothamites Gathered Light and Heat

  How the Gothamites Farmed Salt

  The King Comes to Gotham

  The Dreadful Beast

  How a Gothamite Took Eggs to the Market

  The Long Sausage

  The Story of the Kind-Hearted Miller and the Downcast Hazelnut Tree

  What Became of the Crayfish in Gotham

  The Story of the Mousing Dog and How the Gothamites Left Gotham

  How the Gothamites Became Stupid

  ONCE UPON A TIME in faraway Turkeyland, there lived a people called the Gothamites. The Gothamites were famed near and far for their sensibility and keen wit. As a result, the leaders of the world’s greatest and smallest nations alike would constantly send emissaries to ask the Gothamites’ sage advice on one matter or another. In the end, things got so out of hand that not one important leader could get by without the Gothamites’ help. Since it became troublesome to dispatch a messenger over every little matter, the leaders started hiring the Gothamites as their personal advisors. One after another, the Gothamite men received messages inviting them to start working as aides in foreign lands. Before long, there wasn’t a single Gothamite male left. They had all journeyed abroad to share their wisdom.

  The women of Turkeyland realized life couldn’t go on like this any longer. So, they gathered at the village square one day to consult one another on how to get their lives back on track. After long hours of thought and debate, they found no better proposal than to call the men back home. Having come to this unanimous decision, the women wrote a long letter expressing their worries and woes, asking the men to return home at once. They dispatched the letter to every nook and cranny of the world where they knew a Gothamite man to be.

  As soon as the men received the women’s appeals, they felt a sudden pang in their hearts. They regretted having been away from home for so long, and asked their employers permission to leave their posts. Although this came as an unpleasant surprise to the rulers and leaders, the Gothamites were graciously allowed to go home at last. They were given a fortune in pay and expensive gifts to boot. Yet before leaving, the Gothamites had to vow that they wouldn’t decline to give their wise advice in the future if the rulers should need it.

  So, the Gothamite men returned to their homeland. But once they arrived, they found so much disorder and so many things in disarray that their spirits sank quite low. In spite of all their wisdom, they couldn’t cease to be amazed by how life at home could have gone so awfully awry. Now, it was necessary to consult one another about what to do to ensure that foreign leaders and rulers would never entice them to leave home again.

  The very next day, the wise Gothamites gathered in the shade of the lindens on the town square and put their heads together. They discussed the matter this way and that, weighing their options from one angle and another, but even so, they just couldn’t seem to figure it out.

  Finally, an old Gothamite stood up and spoke:

  “Our very own wisdom and limitless knowledge is to blame for everything. It’s only because of our bright intellects that foreign leaders unleashed their envoys upon us in the first place, hoping to coax us to faraway lands. If we stay just as smart as we are now, then we can’t hope to have much of a future for ourselves. That being said, it’s crystal clear that there’s no better means than stupidity for countering the damage wisdom can cause. Therefore, in my opinion, there’s no better alternative than to start doing foolish and stupid acts in place of our earlier wise deeds. And just as how we were once famed for our wisdom, so will the Gothamites’ name be a beacon of infamy around the world for our stupidity.”

  The Gothamites discussed the old man’s wise words every which way, and agreed unanimously.

  Building the Council Chamber

  THE VERY NEXT DAY, the Gothamites reconvened to discuss what kinds of follies should usher in their new way of life. They decided first and foremost to build a new council chamber at the community’s expense, where they could come up with all sorts of follies and lunacies in a cozy setting.

  The Gothamites’ former wisdom wasn’t snuffed out immediately, but rather faded away over a long time like the wick of an oil lamp when the oil runs out. Thus, they still had enough sense at first to realize they would need logs for the building. They trekked to the woods on the other side of the hill, chopped down several trees, stripped the branches, and peeled off the bark to make the logs nice and smooth. Next came the question of how to transport the logs to the construction site. Some of the Gothamites reckoned they should get a huge crossbow and use it to fling the logs into place like arrows. However, there wasn’t a crossbow big enough for the task to be found anywhere, so the Gothamites had to do the job themselves.

  Straining and struggling, they lugged the logs up the hill one after another, then carried them back down the other side. Finally, the very last log was being hauled down the slope. The Gothamite hefting it suddenly lost his grip, and the log rolled down to the construction site all on its own.

  Seeing this, one of the other Gothamites exclaimed:

  “Oh, how daft we’ve been! We’ve been toiling away here for ages, but it never crossed our minds that the logs can roll themselves down the hill much easier!”

  “Not to worry,” another said, “we can still fix our mistake. Let’s carry the logs back up to the hilltop and then we can roll them down all nice and easy, making our job a breeze.”

  A few days later, the building materials were all stacked and ready: logs, stones, plaster, sand, and everything else that might come in handy. The Gothamites didn’t spend long celebrating, but got right down to construction. They laid a triangular foundation because they didn’t want a regular four-cornered building, but rather a three-walled structure, the unusual shape of which would stand out to every stranger. With consensus and hard work, the three walls were stacked and finished in no time. A fine three-sided shingled roof was added just as quickly, and they hewed a gate that was both tall and wide into one of the walls.

  How the Gothamites Gathered Light and Heat

  ONCE THE COUNCIL CHAMBER was complete, the Gothamites crowded inside. Yet as soon as the gate shut behind them, it was so pitch black that they couldn’t even see far enough to stick their own fingers into their mouths.

  The poor Gothamites were stupefied by this strange turn of events! They thought long and hard, wonderi
ng if they’d miscalculated something during the building process, but in the end, they were still none the wiser. No one realized that they’d forgotten to make windows.

  The Gothamites exited and inspected the building from outside, but everything looked as right as rain there, too. The three walls and the roof were as sound as ever. There wasn’t the smallest crack to be seen anywhere, and they noticed no flaws or other possible causes of the lack of light.

  So, what were they to do? The Gothamites had no choice but to call another council meeting and rack their brains over the bizarre, lightless situation together.

  On the agreed-upon day, the Gothamites shuffled briskly to the chamber, each holding a torch so they could recognize one another’s faces in the darkness. They discussed the problem once more from every angle and so hard that their heads started smoking. Most of them already reckoned it would make sense to build an entirely new building, though much more carefully, when suddenly, the Gothamite who had once been the wisest of them all stood up and spoke.

  “Out there in the world, people try things all sorts of different ways,” he said. “What if we were to try carrying the light inside in a sack, just like fetching water from a well in a bucket? If we pulled that off, then we’d have accomplished a feat like never before, in any case.”

  All agreed with the plan.

  When the midday sun was shining brightly in the sky, the Gothamites gathered in front of the chamber, each carrying a sack or a suitable container. There were even some wielding a shovel, a rake, or a pitchfork to help chase down the light.

  And then it began! Some opened their sacks to the sunlight, then quickly tied them off and sprinted into the chamber to scatter the light across the room. Others did the same with milk pails, butter churners, and other wooden vessels. One man heaped light into a basket with a pitchfork while another scooped it into a tub. Meanwhile, the smartest Gothamite of all tried catching the sunlight in a mousetrap. In the end, the men were so exhausted that they couldn’t lift their arms or legs, but the council chamber was still as dark as ever.

  A wayfarer happened to walk past the building and witness the Gothamites’ amusing attempts to capture the light. That evening, he asked them to explain what was going on.

  “Oh, my,” the stranger exclaimed when he heard what was worrying them. “It’s too bad you didn’t ask for my advice earlier.”

  Hope budded in the Gothamites’ hearts and they promised to pay the stranger if he taught them how to coax light into the room. They led the wayfarer to the chamber and showed him every part of it.

  Alas, this stranger was a cunning trickster. After a moment’s thought, he told the Gothamites to climb onto the roof and take off the shingles.

  To their delight, the stranger’s instruction truly worked! They paid him a large sum of money for the wise advice and gratefully sent him on his way.

  The Gothamites’ joy knew no bounds. All summer long, they sat in their roofless chamber that was now flooded with generous sunlight and discussed whatever needed to be discussed. Luckily, that summer was so dry that not a single drop of rain fell until autumn.

  Yet as time passed, the season of wind and of rain, of fog and of snow arrived. The Gothamites had no choice but to stack the shingles back onto the roof.

  They entered their dark chamber with torches in hand again. Once more, the men conferred for hours about how to bring light into the space.

  One day, a Gothamite was feeling his way to the gate through the darkness after his torch burned out. He suddenly noticed a tiny crack in one of the walls, through which enough light seeped for him to see his own beard. The Gothamite had a sudden flash of his former wisdom, and with a sigh, he turned to face the others.

  “My dear neighbors! It seems we’ve become rather dimwitted indeed, for how else could we have forgotten windows!”

  Hearing these words, the Gothamites stared at one another with mouths agape, thunderstruck. They all rushed to make holes in the walls and in the end, each man had his own window to allow light into the chamber.

  With that, the Gothamites’ great conundrum was finally solved.

  Yet new troubles were just around the corner. One cold winter day, the Gothamites each brought a log of firewood from home to heat the chamber. The men were astonished to discover that the building had no stove, nor could they find a suitable place to put one!

  Nevertheless, they came to a sensible solution after long hours of debate. The Gothamites figured the best strategy would be to put a stove outside next to the building, and then let the heat inside whenever they wished. One old dunderhead was afraid this might waste too much precious warmth, but the Gothamites found a way to avert that danger as well: another fine man promised to bring his old rabbit snares from home and lay them in front of the stove. That way, they could rest in peace knowing the warmth wouldn’t escape and run off on its own.

  So, it was decided: the Gothamites built a stove next to the outside wall and laid the rabbit snares neatly in front of it. Now, their council chamber was finally finished.

  How the Gothamites Farmed Salt

  AT ONE POINT, WARS WERE RAGING around the world and the price of salt skyrocketed in Turkeyland as a consequence. The Gothamites badly needed good advice on how to get salt on their tables for not as dear of a price. After much thought, they finally reckoned that the most worthwhile thing to do would be to plant salt in a field, then harvest it in the fall like rye or barley and store it in a shed. That way, they also wouldn’t have to worry about foreign merchants cheating them by blending the salt with pole-dried snow, thereby making it blander.

  The plan was set into motion. A big tract of communal land was carefully plowed and fertilized, then sowed with thick rows of salt seeds. From that day forward, the Gothamites took very good care of their salt field. An armed guard was placed at every corner of the field so that birds wouldn’t be able to swoop down and peck at the grains.

  It didn’t take long before the salt field started turning nice and green. Every day, the Gothamites went with a spring in their step to check on how the salt plants were sprouting, and declared to one another that they could hear it grow with their very own ears. They then stationed even more watchmen around the salt field to make sure that cows and other animals wouldn’t ruin their precious crop. The guards themselves were given strict orders not to take a single step onto the field, either.

  Yet one morning, something awful happened. All the guards accidentally drowsed off, and when they awoke, a whole herd of strangers’ cows was stamping around the field.

  This naturally came as a great shock to the Gothamites who came to relieve the guards. Frightened out of their wits, they ran around like chickens with their heads cut off, and had no idea what to do. They couldn’t drive the cows off the field because every guard was strictly forbidden from walking upon it. What’s more, the men themselves realized that the damage would swell even further if they started trampling the salt plants in addition to the cows.

  Finally, the poor men worked up their courage and hurried to the village to tell the others of their misfortune. Great dismay and disbelief erupted at the news. The distinguished counselors convened and discussed the matter this way and that, crisswise and crosswise, through and through.

  A few of the men were already on the verge of going gray-haired from intense thinking when they finally came up with a way to rid themselves of the uninvited guests. Four counselors lifted the chief watchman onto their shoulders using a big frame and carried him onto the field. The chief watchman had the men haul him from one cow to another and lashed each one with a long riding crop until the very last one had been driven away. That way, the guard’s legs never touched the ground and did no damage at all to the growing salt!

  Days went by and finally, the salt crop was ready. All the Gothamites gathered at the edge of the field carrying scythes, rakes, and other necessary tools. Yet when the firs
t man wrapped his fingers around a salt stalk to start slicing, he yelled and pulled back his hand. The ripe salt was so burningly bitter that it stung his fingertips!

  So, in the end, nothing came of the salt crop, because no one was itching to blister their hands. The Gothamites certainly racked their brains trying to understand why the salt had grown so bitter on their field, but couldn’t work it out, regardless. Ultimately, a few of them reckoned too much manure had been dumped onto the field in spring, and that was how the salt acquired such excessive might. Therefore, they decided to try planting salt with no manure at all in one part of the field the next year.

  The Gothamites glumly trudged homeward. They’d sown the very last of their salt supplies into the dirt with high hopes that spring, and now, none of them had even a pinch of the expensive stuff left over. With heavy sighs, they took one last look back at their spoiled salt field. If they’d only taken a closer look at their dear handiwork, they would have realized there was only nettle growing there.

  But what was to be done? The Gothamites’ grains of wisdom had already gone quite bland.

  The King Comes to Gotham

  WORD OF THE GOTHAMITES’ foolish deeds soon reached the ears of a king: the chief of Utopia. The king was astonished by the stories he heard, especially since the Gothamites had been such a wise people before. Therefore, he resolved to travel to Gotham himself and inspect the situation with his own eyes.

  The king of Utopia sent an envoy to inform the Gothamites of his arrival at once. He likewise had the messenger tell them that when they came to meet him on the road, they should be half on horse and half on foot.

  When the Gothamites received the king’s message, they immediately started making speedy preparations to welcome the great leader with dignity. They took care to feed their horses and made sure that their cellars and pantries were short on nothing their visitor might be served. Since the chief Gothamite had already turned into quite a simpleton, the Gothamites chose a swine herder to take over the important position, as they believed he would be the most suitable man for dealing with the king.