by Ivo Andrić
out his duties with satisfaction and conscientiousness; and certainly he was
exceptionallyswiftandskilfulatthem.Thetownsmenusedtosaythathehada
lighter hand than Mushan the town barber. Both old and young knew him, at
least by name, and that name excited awe and curiosity at the same time. On
sunnydayshewouldsitorliealldaylongonthebridgeintheshadeunderthe
woodenblockhouse.Fromtimetotimehewouldrisetoinspecttheheadsonthe
stakes,likeamarket-gardenerhismelons.Thenhewouldliedownagainonhis
plank in the shade, yawning and stretching himself, heavy, rheumy-eyed and
good-humoured, like an ageing sheepdog. At the end of the bridge, behind the
wall,thechildrengatheredinquisitivelyandwatchedhimtimidly.
But when his work was in question, Hairuddin was alert and precise to the
minutest detail. He disliked anyone to interfere with his work, a thing which
happened more and more often as the insurrection developed. When the
insurgents burnt some of the villages above the town, the anger of the Turks
passed all measure. Not only did they arrest all insurgents and spies, or those
whomtheyconsideredsuch,andbroughtthemtotheCaptainonthebridge,but
intheirrancourtheyevenwantedtotakepartintheexecutionofthesentence.
Thus one day dawn revealed the head of the Višegrad parish priest, that same
PopMihailowhohadfoundstrengthtojokewiththe hodja andtherabbionthe nightofthegreatflood.InthegeneralfuryagainsttheSerbshehadbeenkilled,
eventhoughinnocent,andthegipsychildrenstuckacigarinhisdeadmouth.
Hairuddinstronglydisapprovedofsuchactionsandpreventedthemwheneverhe
wasable.
WhenonedaythefatAnatoliandiedunexpectedlyofanthraxanewheadsman,
in truth far less skilful, continued his work and went on doing so for several
years, and until the revolt in Serbia had died down there were always two or
threeheadsexposedonthe kapia. In such times people quickly grow hardened
andinsensible.Theysoonbecamesoaccustomedtothemthattheypassedthem
by indifferently and paid no more heed to them, so that they did not at once
noticewhentheyceasedtobeexhibited.
WhenthesituationinSerbiaandonthefrontierdieddown,theblockhouselost
itsimportanceanditsreasonforexistence.Buttheguardwentonsleepingthere,
althoughthecrossingofthebridgehadlongbeenfreeandwithoutsupervision.
IneveryarmythingschangeslowlyandintheTurkisharmymoreslowlythanin
any other. And so it would have remained for God alone knows how long had
not a fire broken out one night because of a forgotten candle. The blockhouse
wasmadeofresinousplanksandwasstillwarmaftertheheatoftheday.Itburnt
toitsfoundations,thatistosaydowntotheflagstonesofthe kapia.
Theexcitedpeopleofthetownwatchedthehugeblazewhichlitupnotonlythe
bridgebutalsothemountainsaround,andwasreflectedinwaveringredlighton
the surface of the river. When morning broke, the bridge again appeared in its
former shape freed from the clumsy wooden monstrosity which had for years
concealedits kapia. Thewhitestonesweretarnishedandsooty,buttherainsand
snowssoonwashedthemcleanagain.Thusnothingremainedoftheblpckhouse
andthebloodyeventsconnectedwithitsaveafewbittermemorieswhichpaled
and finally disappeared with that generation, and one oak beam which had not
beenburntasitwasfixedintothestonestepsofthe kapia.
Sothe kapia onceagainbecameforthetownwhatithadformerlybeen.Onthe
leftterraceasonecamefromthetownacoffeebreweronceagainlithisbrazier
andsetouthisutensils.Onlythefountainhadsuffered,forthesnake'sheadfrom
whichthewaterhadflowedhadbeencrushed.Thepeopleonceagainbeganto
dallyonthesofaandpassthetimethereinconversation,inbusinessdealsorin
drowsytime-wasting.Onsummernightstheyoungmensangthereingroupsor
sat there solitary suppressing their love-yearning or giving way to that vague
desire to go out into the distant world to do great deeds and take part in great events which so often torments young people brought up in a narrow milieu.
After a score or so of years a new generation grew up which did not even
rememberthedeformedwoodencarcassoftheblockhouseortheharshcriesof
theguardstoppingtravellersbynight,orHairuddinortheexposedheadswhich
hehadcutoffwithsuchprofessionalskill.Onlysomeoftheoldwomen,driving
awaytheurchinswhocametostealtheirpeaches,wouldshoutinloudandangry
curses:
'MayGodsendHairuddintocutyourhairforyou!Mayyourmotherrecognize
yourheadonthe kapia!'
But the children who ran away over the fences could not understand the real
sense of these curses, though they knew, naturally, that they meant nothing
favourable.
Thusthegenerationsrenewedthemselvesbesidethebridgeandthebridgeshook
from itself, like dust, all the traces which transient human events had left on it andremained,whenallwasover,unchangedandunchangeable.
VII
Timepassedoverthebridgebyyearsanddecades.Thosewerethefewdecades
about the middle of the nineteenth century in which the Turkish Empire was
consumedbyaslowfever.Measuredbytheeyeofacontemporary,thoseyears
seemed comparatively peaceful and serene, although they had their share of
anxietiesandfearsandknewdroughtsandfloodsandepidemicsandallmanner
ofexcitingevents.Onlyallthesethingscameintheirowntime,inshortspasms
amidlonglulls.
The border between the two pashaluks of Bosnia and Belgrade, which passed
justabovethetown,beganinthoseyearstobecomeevermoresharplydefined
andtotakeontheappearanceandsignificanceofastatefrontier.Thatchanged
the conditions of life for the whole district and for the town also, influenced
tradeandcommunications,andthemutualrelationsofTurksandSerbs.
The older Turks frowned and blinked in incredulity, as if they wished to drive
away this unpleasant apparition. They threatened and discussed and then for
monthsatatimeforgotallaboutthematter,untilharshrealitywouldonceagain
remindthemandalarmthemoncemore.
Thus,onespringdayoneoftheTurksfromVeletovo,upthereonthefrontier,sat
onthe kapia andwithdeepemotiontoldtheleadingTurksgatheredtherewhat
hadbeenhappeningatVeletovo.
Sometimeinthewinter,themanfromVeletovosaid,therehadappearedabove
theirvillagetheill-famedJovanMičić,the serdar ofRuyan,whohadcomefrom
Arilje with armed men and begun to inspect and mark out the frontier. When
they asked him what he intended to do and why he was there, he replied
arrogantly that he had t
o give account to no one, least of all to Bosnian
renegades,butiftheyreallywantedtoknowhehadbeensenttherebythePrince
Miloštofindoutwherethefrontierwastorunandhowmuchwastobeincluded
inSerbia.
'Wethought,'saidthemanfromVeletovo,'thattheVlachwasdrunkanddidnot
knowwhathewassaying,forwehavelongknownhimasabanditandarascal.
Sowerefusedtolethimstayandthenforgotallabouthim.Butnotmorethan
two months later he came again, this time with a whole company of Miloš'
soldiersandadelegateoftheSultan,asoftpalefellowfromStambul.Wecould
notbelieveoureyes.Butthedelegateconfirmedeverything.Heloweredhiseyes in shame, but he confirmed. Thus, he said, it had been ordered by Imperial
decree that Miloš should administer Serbia in the Sultan's name and that the
frontier should be marked out, to know exactly to what point his authority
stretched. When the delegate's men began to drive in stakes along the crest
belowTetrebica,Mičićcameandpulledthemupandthrewthemaside.Themad
Vlach(maythedogseathisflesh!)flewatthedelegate,shoutedathimasifhe
were a subordinate and threatened him with death. That, he said, was not the
frontier;thefrontierhadbeenfixedbytheSultanandtheRussianTsarwhohad
given a ferman to Prince Miloš, it now ran along the Lim down as far as the VišegradbridgeandthencedowntheDrina;thusallthislandispartofSerbia.
Thistoo,hesaid,isonlyforacertaintime;lateritwillhavetobeadvanced.The
delegate had great trouble in convincing him and then they fixed the frontier
aboveVeletovo.Andthereitremains,atleastforthepresent.Onlyfromthenon
wehavebeenfilledwithdoubtandasortoffear,sothatwedonotknowwhatto
doorwheretoturn.WehavediscussedallthiswiththepeopleofUzice,butthey
too do not know what has happened nor what to expect. And old Hadji-Zuko
who has twice been to Mecca and is now more than ninety years old says that
beforeagenerationhaspassedtheTurkishfrontierwillbewithdrawnrighttothe
BlackSea,fifteendays'marchaway.'
TheleadingTurksofVišegradlistenedtothemanfromVeletovo.Theyseemed
calm to all outward appearance, but inwardly they were shaken and confused.
They squirmed unintentionally at his words and caught hold of the stone seat
withtheirhands,asifsomepowerfulandinvisibleforcewereshakingthebridge
beneath them. Then, mastering themselves, they sought words to lessen and
diminishtheimportanceofthisevent.
They did not like unfavourable news or heavy thoughts or serious and
despondent conversations on the kapia, but they could see for themselves that thisbodednogood;norcouldtheydenywhatthemanfromVeletovohadsaidor
findwordstocalmandreassurehim.Sotheycouldscarcelywaitforthepeasant
whohadbroughtthisunpleasantnewstoreturntohisvillageinthemountains.
That, naturally, would not lessen the anxiety but it would remove it far from
them. And when in fact the man went away, they were only too pleased to be
able to return to their usual habits, and to go on sitting peacefully on
the kapia without conversations which made life disagreeable and the future
terrifying, and to leave it to time to soften and ease the weight of the events
whichhadtakenplaceovertherebehindthemountains.
Timediditswork.Lifewenton,toallappearancesunchanged.Morethanthirty years passed since that conversation on the kapia. But those stakes which the Sultan's delegate and the serdar of Ruyan had planted struck root and brought forthfruit,late-ripeningbutbittertotheTurks.TheTurkshadnowtoabandon
even the last towns in Serbia. One summer day the bridge at Višegrad was
burdenedwithapitiableprocessionofrefugeesfromUzice.
Itwasononeofthosehotdayswithlongpleasanttwilightsonthe kapia when
theTurksfromthemarketplacefilledboththeterracesoverthewater.Onsuch
days melons were brought there on donkey back. The ripe canteloupes and
water-melons had been cooled all day long and in the early evening people
wouldbuyandeatthemonthe sofa. Usuallytwoofthemwouldbetwhetherthe
insideofacertainwater-melonwereredorwhite.Thentheywouldcutitopen
and whoever lost paid for it and they would eat it together, with talk and loud
jokes.
Theday'swarmthstillbeatupfromthestoneterracesbutwiththetwilightthere
wasacoolrefreshingairfromthewater.Themiddleoftherivershone,andnear
thebanksunderthewillowsitturnedashadowydullgreen.Allthehillsaround
werereddenedbythesunset,somestronglyandothersscarcelytouched.Above
them, filling the whole south-western part of that amphitheatre which could be
seen from the kapia were summer mists of continually changing colour. These mistsareamongthemostbeautifulsightstobeseeninsummeronthe kapia. As
soonasthedaylightgrowsstrongandthesunleapsup,theyappearbehindthe
mountains like thick white silvery-grey masses, creating fantastic landscapes,
irregularcupolasandcountlessstrangebuildings.Theyremainthusalldaylong,
heavyandunmovingabovethehillssurroundingthetownwhichsweltersinthe
sun. The Turks who in early evening sat on the kapia had those mists always before their eyes like white silken Imperial tents which in their imagination
evoked vague shapes of wars and forays and pictures of strange and
immeasurable power and luxury, till darkness extinguished and dispersed them
andtheskiescreatedfreshmagicfromthestarsandmoonlight.
Never could the wonderful and exceptional beauty of the kapia be better felt thanatthathouronsuchsummerdays.Amanwasthenasifinamagicswing;
heswungovertheearthandthewatersandflewintheskies,yetwasfirmlyand
surelylinkedwiththetownandhisownwhitehousethereonthebankwithits
plum orchard about it. With the solace of coffee and tobacco, many of those
simple citizens, who owned little more than those houses and the few shops in
themarketplace,feltatsuchtimestherichnessoftheworldandtheillimitability
ofGod'sgifts.Suchabridge,lovelyandstrong,couldofferallthistomenand wouldcontinuetoofferitforcenturiestocome.
This was just such an evening, an evening filled with chatter and laughter and
jokesamongthemselvesandthepassers-by.
Thesprightliestandloudestjokescentredonashortbutpowerfulyoungmanof
strangeappearance.ThiswasSalkoĆorkan,One-eyedSalko.
SalkowasthesonofagipsywomanandsomeAnatoliansoldierorofficerwho
hadatsometimebeenstationedinthetownandhadleftitbeforethisunwanted
sonhadbeenborn.Shortlyafterwards,hismothertoohaddiedandthechildhad
grownupwithoutanyoneofhisown.Thewholetownfedhim;hebelongedto
everybodyandnobody.Hedidoddjobsaboutthe
shopsandhouses,carriedout
taskswhichnooneelsewoulddo,cleanedthecesspoolsandstreetchannels,and
buriedanythingthathaddiedorhadbeenbroughtdownbythewaters.Hehad
never had a house or occupation of his own. He ate whatever he happened to
find,stillstandingorwalkingabout,sleptinattics,anddressedinparti-coloured
ragsgivenhimbyothers.Whilestillachildhehadlosthislefteye.Eccentric,
good-humoured,merryandadrunkard,heoftenworkedforthetownsmenfora
wordorajokeinsteadofpay.
Around Salko had gathered a number of merchants' sons, young men who
laughedathimandplayedcrudejokesonhim.
Theairsmeltoffreshmelonsandroastingcoffee.Fromthegreatflagstones,still
warmfromtheday'sheat,andsprinkledwithwater,rosemoistandscentedthe
specialsmellofthe kapia whichfilledmenwithfreedomfromcareandevoked
livelyfancies.
It was the moment between day and night. The sun had set but the great star
whichroseoverMoljevnikhadnotyetappeared.Insuchamoment,wheneven
the most ordinary thing took on the appearance of a vision filled with majesty,
terrorandspecialmeaning,thefirstrefugeesfromUziceappearedonthebridge.
The men were for the most part on foot, dusty and bowed, while the women
wrappedintheirveilswerebalancedonsmallhorseswithsmallchildrentiedto
thesaddlebagsortoboxes.Nowandagainamoreimportantmanrodeabetter
horse,butwithloweredheadandatafunerealpace,revealingevenmoreclearly
the misfortune which had driven them hither. Some of them were leading a
singlegoatonashorthalter.Otherscarriedlambsintheirlaps.Allweresilent;
eventhechildrendidnotcry.Allthatcouldbeheardwasthebeatofhorseshoes
andfootstepsandthemonotonouschinkingofwoodenandcoppervesselsonthe
overloadedhorses.
The appearance of this overtired and destitute procession dampened the gaiety
onthe kapia. Theolderpeopleremainedseatedonthestonebenches,whilethe
younger stood up and formed living walls on both sides of the kapia and the procession passed between them. Some of the townsmen only looked
