The Wanderer

by Mika Waltari

  So Giulia and I set forth alone together on an arduous climb to the summit. We found there two marble columns whose capitals had fallen to the ground and been buried under sand and grass. Behind them stood the bases of many square pillars and the ruins of a temple doorway. Among the ruins of the temple itself a larger-than-life-size statue of a goddess stood on a marble pedestal. She gazed upon us in regal beauty, her limbs covered by the thinnest of veils. The temple had fallen in ruins about her, but still in her divine loveliness she surveyed us mortals, though one thousand, five hundred and twenty-seven years had passed since our Saviour’s birth.

  But I was thinking neither of my Saviour nor of the excellent resolutions that had moved me to undertake my long journey. I seemed transported into the golden, pagan age when men knew neither the thorns of doubt nor the anguish of sin; in the face of this potent spell I should have done well to flee. I know I should have fled, but I did not. I did not, and more swiftly than I can write the words we had lain down to rest in the warm grass. I caught Giulia in my arms and besought her to uncover her face, so that no chilling estrangement should linger between us. My boldness was encouraged by the conviction that Giulia would not have been so ready to come with me to this lonely place unless in her heart she had shared my desire. Nor did she resist my lips and hands, but when I would have torn the veil from her face she grasped my wrists with the strength of despair and begged me most movingly to desist.

  “Michael, my friend, my beloved, do as I say. I too am young, and we live but once. But I cannot uncover my face for you, for it would part us. Why can you not love me without beholding it, when all my tenderness awaits you?”

  But I could not be content. Her resistance made me the more stubborn, so that by force I dragged the veil from her grasp and bared her face. She lay in my embrace with her fair curls over my arm and her dark-lashed eyes tightly closed. Her lips were like cherries, and my caress had brought a warm glow to her cheeks. I was at a loss to imagine why she had so long and so tantalizingly veiled her features from me, for they were beautiful. But she kept her eyes closed, and covered them with her hands; she was unresponsive to my kisses.

  Ah, that I had been content with this! But I urged her wildly to open her eyes. She shook her head violently and all her joy had melted away; she lay in my arms like one dead, and not my most daring caresses could revive her. Dismayed I released her and begged her earnestly to open her eyes and look into mine, that she might read there the intensity of my longing.

  At length she said sadly, “Then it’s over between us, Pilgrim Michael, and may this be the last time that I seek love. You’ll soon forget me when our voyage is ended. Let us hope that I shall forget you as easily. For the love of God, Michael, don’t look into my eyes. They are evil.”

  I knew of course that there are people who without any malicious intent can injure others with their gaze. My teacher, Doctor Paracelsus, believed that the evil eye could cause a fruit tree to wither. But it was on account of such beliefs that my wife Barbara was beheaded and burned in a German city, although she was relatively innocent. In my despair I rejected all the evidence that had been heaped against her as malice and superstition, and so incurred the guilt of heresy. Nor did I believe now that Giulia’s fair face could be marred by evil eyes, and I laughed. Perhaps my laughter was a little forced, because of her grief, but when I swore that I did not fear her gaze she turned pale and at last withdrew her hands. Her frightened eyes, clear as raindrops, looked into mine.

  My blood turned to ice, my heart stopped, and I stared back, as mute and horror stricken as herself.

  Her eyes were beautiful indeed, yet they lent a sinister look to her face, for they were of different colors. The left eye was blue as the sea, but the right was nut brown; I had never before seen such a thing-I had never even heard of it-and I sought in vain a natural explanation.

  We gazed long at one another, face to face, and instinctively I recoiled and sat a little distance, still gazing, until she too sat up and covered her breast. All warmth had drained from my body and cold shivers ran down my spine; what malignant planets must have presided at my birth! The only woman I had ever loved was beheaded and burned as a witch, and now that another had captured my heart, she too was cursed by God and must veil a face that brought horror and consternation to all beholders. My life was accursed; it might be that within myself there lurked some fatal affinity with what we call witchcraft. I remembered how Giulia’s presence, from the time I first beheld her, had attracted me like a magnet, and I could no longer feel that this was merely youth calling to youth. In my heart I suspected some dread mystery.

  I was in no condition to express my thoughts to Giulia, and when she had sat for a little while with bowed head, twisting a grass blade about her slender fingers, she rose and said coldly, “Well, Michael, you’ve had your way and it’s time for us to go.”

  She walked away with her head held high, and I leaped up to rejoin her. Without turning she said in a hard voice, “Master Carvajal, I rely upon your honor not to betray my secret to the ignorant people aboard our ship. Although life is indifferent to me, although it might be better for me and my fellows if I died, yet I long to reach the Holy Land now that I have undertaken the pilgrimage. I want no superstitious seaman to throw me overboard.”

  I caught her wrists, and turning her to me I said, “Giulia, don’t think that my love for you has died; that is not true. Indeed I feel now that fate intended us for each other, for I too am different from other people, though I bear no outward sign of it.”

  But Giulia said in derision, “You’re kind and courteous, Michael, but I don’t need your false words; your eyes have clearly spoken your horror. Let it be as if we had never met, for that is the best and kindest thing you can do.”

  Her bitter words sent a wave of warmth through my heart and I was ashamed. To prove to myself and to her that nothing had changed between us I put my arms about her and kissed her. But she was right, for I no longer felt the same trembling delight. And yet perhaps my embrace held a deeper meaning than before, for now I held a defenseless creature like myself, whom I would comfort if I could in her most dreadful loneliness. Perhaps she understood, for her coldness melted, and pressing her face against my shoulder she broke into silent weeping.

  To accustom myself to her strange beauty I begged her, when she had composed herself, to remove her veil and without fear walk with me down the mountainside. The longer I beheld her face and her remarkable eyes the more deeply was I aware of the profound attraction that bound me to her, despite my repugnance; it was as if two people walked beside me, and that in touching one of them I touched both. And so, unknown to me, her evil eyes cast their slow spell upon my soul.

  Down by the pools we found Andy and Johanna sleeping heavily, and there was nothing left in the basket but a gnawed bone and the vine leaf that had covered the food. The sun was already sinking; we returned in haste to the port and signaled to the ship to send a boat for us.

  At dusk the war galley returned from her vain pursuit, but two days and nights passed before the wind blew freshly from the northwest and we were able to row out of the harbor and hoist sail. I had spent these two days in wholesome reflection, and my proud and chilly demeanor gave place to kindliness. I shared out medicine and bread among my poor fellow passengers and did my best to help them as they lay weeping and praying on the evil-smelling straw. At night I lay awake brooding over Giulia and my own life. For since I had seen her eyes all joy had left me, and I sought oblivion in thinking of others rather than of myself.

  But repentance came too late, for the day after our departure from Cerigo the wind freshened, the seas rose, and by evening the sky was filled with flying storm clouds. The ship groaned in all her timbers and began to leak worse than ever, so that all able men were set to the pumps. What with the plunging and creaking of the vessel, the crack of the sails, and the lamentations of the seasick, I confess I trembled in every limb, expecting every moment that we should found
er. Yet, rotten and worm eaten though she was, our ship was a sturdy product of the Venetian dockyards, and by daybreak we had suffered no damage. When the sun came out and gilded the foaming crests of the waves we felt we had good reason to give thanks to God and join together in a song of praise.

  But to the captain’s way of thinking our rejoicing was premature, and when we had ended our thanksgiving he roared at us to take to the oars, for in driving before the wind we had lost touch with the convoy. Neither sail nor land was now in sight, but by hard rowing the captain strove to alter course and so bring us up with the other vessels.

  At midday the wind had dropped, although the ship still rolled in heavy seas. A sail was now descried on the horizon, and to avoid an encounter the captain again altered course and we tugged at the oars with the strength of terror. But it was too late, for by the time we could see the low sail, our lofty masts had long been visible to the stranger, who with terrifying speed approached to intercept our flight. On seeing this the captain ranted and swore and consigned all the rapacious ship owners of Venice to the nethermost pit.

  “That craft bodes us no good,” he said. “If you be brave men, grasp your weapons now and fight beside me. Women and the sick must get below.”

  My inward parts contracted with fear when I heard his words and watched the narrow enemy ship cleaving the foaming seas toward us, impelled by many pairs of oars. It was not long before two puffs of smoke burst from her bows; one cannon ball had plowed a hissing furrow through the waves and the other had ripped our sail before the wind had even brought us the sound of the shots.

  Andy said, “This battle’s lost already, as we have no more than fifteen able-bodied men among us. According to all the rules of war-on land, that is; I know nothing of the sea-we should lay down our arms and negotiate for honorable terms of peace.”

  But the pock-marked captain said, “Let us trust in God and hope that the war galley is not far off, and already searching for us. If I surrender this ship without a blow struck I shall incur black dishonor, and the Signoria of the Republic will move heaven and earth to seize me and string me up at the yardarm. But if I fight bravely and survive, the Signoria will buy me out of slavery. And if 1 should fall in battle against the infidel, I have good reason to hope that my soul, freed from sin, will fly straight to heaven.”

  Brother Jehan, hoarse with terror, brandished a copper crucifix and yelled, “He who falls in battle against the followers of the false prophet is worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven! He who while on pilgrimage dies at the hands of infidels wins the glorious crown of the martyrs! And truly that crown has never been nearer to us than now. Let us therefore do battle like brave men, and may the name of Jesus be our war cry!”

  Andy scratched his ear dubiously, and thrust his fist into the mouth of our only cannon, which was green with age and neglect. There was nothing in it but bits of old birds’ nests. From his cabin the captain threw out an armful of rusty swords, which clattered to the deck, while the crew sullenly picked up their iron pikes. The captain also brought out a big harquebus and I tried to load it, being used to handling such weapons, but the powder was damp. The strange vessel was by now so near that I could distinguish the green and red flags floating from the mast, and we saw also the dread turbans of the crew and the dazzle of many keen scimitars.

  At this moment several sharp shots rang out. Two men fell bleeding to the deck and a third seized his wrist with a howl. Then a shower of arrows sang toward us, and many men were hit. When Brother Jehan saw the blood and heard the heart-rending cries of the wounded he was thrown into an ecstasy of sheer terror; he leaped about the deck, tucked the skirts of his habit into the rope girdle, exposing his hairy legs, and shrieked in tones of triumph, “See the blood of the martyrs! This day we shall meet in Paradise, and before God’s throne there is no more precious jewel than the martyrs’ crown.”

  Other pilgrims too began madly jumping about the deck and brandishing their weapons, while the invalids gave tongue in a quivering psalm. But Andy drew me into the shelter of the deck house where the captain joined us, shedding tears and crossing himself repeatedly as he said, “May the Virgin and all the saints pity me and may Jesus Christ forgive my sins. I know that ship; she’s from the island of Jerba and is commanded by a pirate named Torgut, who shows no mercy to Christians. Let us sell our lives as dearly as we may, since we’re bound to lose them.”

  But any attempt at defense against this seasoned pirate could only result in useless bloodshed, for at a given signal the rowers drew in their oars, leaving their vessel with way enough on her to glide alongside. Numbers of grapnels caught our rail, the two hulls ground together, and we were fast bound to our assailant by countless lines and chains. Our captain, like the honorable man he was, dashed sword in hand to the encounter of the pirates who were now swarming in over the side. But there were few who followed him, and he fell with a cloven skull before he had inflicted a single wound. Seeing his unhappy end his men flung down their pikes and showed their empty hands in token of surrender; in another moment those pilgrims who still showed fight were cut down, and so we won small honor in this unequal struggle.

  Andy said, “Our last moment has come. The rules of war require resistance only while the least chance of success remains. Let us not kick against the pricks, but rather die, if need be, like meek Christians.”

  To the last Brother Jehan assailed the infidels with his copper crucifix, but they never gave themselves the trouble of striking him. One of them simply snatched the crucifix and threw it into the sea, which so enraged the monk that he hurled himself at the man and attacked him with nails and teeth until a kick in the belly sent him rolling and howling on the deck. Andy and I allowed ourselves to be thrust in among the other prisoners, while the pirates poured all over the ship. Their easy victory had put them in a good humor, and at first they showed us no great hostility. But when they discovered that we carried no valuable cargo, they shook their fists at us and uttered threats in every language under the sun. To my amazement I noticed that they were neither Africans nor Turks, and that despite their turbans the greater number were Italians and Spaniards.

  These cruel men belabored us with their fists, spat upon us, and tore off our clothes, leaving no more than a rag to cover us. They snapped up our purses and with practiced fingers felt each garment for any jewels or coins that might have been stitched into its lining. But at that moment I cared nothing for my lost possessions, and feared only for my life. Such valuables as they found they threw onto a piece of cloth spread upon the deck.

  When they had made an end of this vile work, there appeared among them a dark-skinned man whose large turban was adorned with a bunch of feathers. His silk coat was heavy with silver brocade, and in his hand he carried a curved blade whose hilt was set with dark jewels. Seeing him, our robbed and denuded seamen began eagerly striking their chests and displaying their muscles, but he never so much as glanced at them. His subordinates showed him the negligible spoils, and at a nod from him began to run along our ranks, pinching our muscles and inspecting our teeth, and rapidly weeding out the weak and infirm among us. At this I was even more dismayed, and asked what it could mean, since we had already surrendered. The sailors answered, “Pray that we may find favor in their eyes. They pick out those who are fit to pull an oar, and the rest they kill.”

  I was seized by such overmastering fear that my tongue swelled in my mouth and I could not even stammer. But just then these cruel men dragged Giulia forward, laughing and shouting because she had my dog Rael in her arms. The dog snarled, showed his teeth, and snapped at them valiantly when they teased him, and they were surprised that so small a dog could display such fury.

  The sight and smell of carnage did nothing to soothe Rael, who was a seasoned warrior. He grew anxious on my account and having caught my scent, struggled so violently in Giulia’s arms that she was forced to release him. He ran straight up to me, jumped about me and licked my hands to show his delight at finding me stil
l alive.

  The infidel captain made a gesture of impatience and at once the chattering and laughter ceased; the wailing captives also fell silent, so that sudden and utter stillness reigned. The leader had Giulia brought before him, tore away her veil and first looked upon her with approval. But when he noticed her eyes he started back with a cry, and his men too made horns with their fingers to avert evil.

  Even the men of our own ship forgot their plight and pressed forward past their guards, shaking their fists and crying, “Let us throw the woman overboard, for her eyes have led the ship to disaster.”

  From this I realized that they had long guessed her secret. But their rage was the best thing that could have befallen her just then, for to show contempt for them the leader of the infidels signed to his men to take Giulia to the round-topped tent on the quarterdeck of the pirate vessel. I felt deeply relieved, although I suspected that only violence and slavery awaited her.

  Once more the haughty commander raised his hand, and a gigantic coal-black slave stepped forward, naked to the waist and carrying a flashing scimitar. His master pointed to the aged and feeble, who had already fallen to their knees, and then turned his back. He surveyed the rest of us disdainfully while the black headsman approached the pilgrims and, ignoring their terrified cries, swept their heads from their shoulders.

  At the sight of these heads rolling over the deck, and the blood spurting from the bodies, the last of my strength left me and I sank to my knees with my arms about my dog’s neck. Andy stood in front of me, feet apart, but when the infidels had patted him on the thigh, impressed by his powerful frame, they smiled at him and bade him step to one side. Thus I lost my only support, and since I had continually hidden behind the backs of others, I was the last to be inspected. They dragged me impatiently to my feet, and pinched me with looks of contempt. I was still emaciated from the plague, and as a scholar I could naturally not compete in bodily strength with seasoned mariners. The commander lifted his hand in dismissal and my guards forced me to my knees, that the Negro might strike off my head, too.