The Wanderer

by Mika Waltari

  The ensign listened open mouthed and protested eagerly that the name of Bock von Teufelsburg was familiar to him. He repeated his instructions to report at once to the town hall for further interrogation. Then he seemed to hesitate; he bit his lip in some embarrassment and said, “The prosecutor and provost marshal are somewhat severe, as is natural, in view of Turkish cunning. They would rather hang ten innocent men than allow one suspect to escape. Nor are deserters kindly received, and as a good Christian I warn you that you’ll be imprisoned in any case until you can find someone to vouch for you. Failing this you will be hanged.”

  Then in a burst of candor he went on, “You and your comrade would be wise to shun the town hall and the provost marshal’s men like the plague until the Turks have withdrawn. You’ll have no difficulty, for there are many other deserters hiding in taverns and in the lodgings of softhearted women. Go in peace and fortune go with you. Drink a cup now and then to my health and success.”

  With that the good-natured boy threw us a silver schilling and left us. Andy and I slipped away into the October mist.

  I was for seeking out Aaron at once, but Andy, holding my arm negligently between finger and thumb, trudged along the filthy streets under the blank gaze of charred, roofless houses, and as he went he sniffed the air. Just as a compass needle quivers to the north, so Andy amid the desolation of this city made unerringly for a tavern, whither a mob of drunken, quarrelsome, boastful, dicing Germans, Spaniards, and Bohemians had preceded us. When we had setded ourselves on two empty barrels with a stoup of wine before us Andy said contentedly, “I feel a better Christian every moment, and can hardly believe that only yesterday I wore a turban and washed my head and neck five times a day.”

  “I’ve nothing against a morning draught,” I said with some reserve, “but the task we’ve been set weighs on my mind. No doubt we should be wise to buy up straw, wood, and pitch in good time, so as to make a fine blaze of this sour and squalid city.”

  But Andy with a rattle of his purse called for more wine and said, “The hairs of our head are numbered and not a sparrow falls to the ground unless shot, so it’s needless to take thought for the morrow today.”

  He was soon chatting with a couple of scoundrels who peered greedily into his purse, embraced him, and swore he was their best friend. Andy flung down three Hungarian gulden and ordered the innkeeper to serve drink to both these brave defenders of Vienna. But a pock-marked, villainous fellow with a bloodstained Turkish kaftan thrown over his shoulders resented Andy’s openhandedness and in his turn poured a heap of gold onto the slimy, bespewed table, coughed hoarsely, and cried, “In the name of Christ, the Virgin, and all the saints! I will pay, for I’ve escaped from Turkish imprisonment, killed one of their pashas, and performed such feats as no one would believe were I to relate them. Let these Turkish coins speak for me; I take it as unfriendly that anyone should seek to forestall me.”

  Andy quietly swept his coins back into his purse, declaring that he had no wish to insult so great a hero.

  In time all were thoroughly fuddled, and the ruffian with the gold ordered the tavern keeper to bar the door. He then delivered the following speech.

  “Are we not all brave men? Have we not all done deeds that for a thousand years will be praised by Christians everywhere? But who thanks us? We’ve had neither pay nor the smallest chance of plunder-yet is not the town ours, since we preserved it from destruction? It is but fair that the inhabitants should pay us what we’re owed, and as soon as the cavalry have set off in pursuit of the Turks we shall have our chance.”

  The topers roared that this was the most sensible talk they had heard since the siege began. But, said they, we’re few and the provost marshal is a ruthless man. Rope and stake await everyone who seeks justice.

  The pock-marked man lowered his voice and his eyes glowed as he said, “Let us bring the good news to all trustworthy comrades, and tomorrow evening after vespers set fire to the city! The marshal’s men will be too busy quenching the flames to hinder us in our good work.”

  The soberest of the company fell silent and began looking about them for a way of escape. But others reflected, and admitted that the plan was a good one. The speaker went on, “We’re not alone in this. We’re many! I have comrades who will speak of this elsewhere, and certain bold warriors are at work even now recruiting for the cause.” He drew forth another purse and emptied it upon the table. “I’ll pay five gulden at once to anyone who will promise to set fire to some house he knows of.”

  At this point the tavern keeper abandoned the wine cask to its fate and slunk out, followed by one or two of the less inebriated. But Andy, to my great dismay, turned crimson in the face and roared, “This man is a spy and a traitor and offers Turkish gold to brave men! Strike him on the mouth and hand him over to the provost marshal!”

  In vain I tugged at Andy’s sleeve and sought to silence him. When the pock-marked man dashed at him with drawn sword, Andy overturned the table, hurled an empty barrel at his head, snatched his weapon, and began roaring for the marshal. In the ensuing confusion the drunken soldiers rapidly grabbed at the spilled coins that were rolling all over the floor, and then with savage imprecations hurled themselves upon the agitator to seize and bind him. Outside could be heard the drum of the marshal’s men and soon we were following the unhappy traitor, with oaths and clenched fists, to testify against him at the town hall.

  It was not only in our tavern that such incidents took place, and the provost marshal’s men, reinforced by a few armed troopers, marched through all the streets of Vienna, raiding every alehouse and arresting all who scattered money in too ostentatious a manner. When we reached the town hall we found a crowd there already, bawling death and destruction to all traitors. We yelled as loudly as the rest. Andy said, “It was a pity to break up the party so soon, but the fellow was too talkative and would have been caught anyway. There are enough witnesses without us, but let us stay here in the background, for no one would dream of seeking us in this place.”

  I said bitterly, “You should have let him talk on, for then we might have waited with folded arms till all was ready. Now there’s no time to be lost and we must quickly buy our fuel, or incur the Grand Vizier’s displeasure.”

  Andy stared at me goggle eyed and said, “Are you out of your wits, Michael? This man has disclosed the whole plot and we’ve no chance of taking the authorities by surprise. All that’s left to do is to save our own skins. The Grand Vizier should have remembered that too many cooks spoil the broth.”

  Meanwhile the questioning went on, and to the people’s great delight two deserters found skulking in a tavern were hanged at once. Five suspects who had been too free with their money were put to the torture. Their howling penetrated the massive stone walls and could be heard out in the market place. It was not long before proclamation was made from the doors of the town hall that these five had confessed to having been bribed by the Aga of Janissaries to return

  and fire the city, and in the confusion open the gates to the Turks.

  To pacify the people the five men were dragged into the market place-for they could no longer walk-to be broken on the wheel and then quartered; their dismembered bodies were then impaled on stakes in the sight of all. When these stakes were set up I felt very cold and spewed up my wine, and in a faint voice I pleaded with Andy to take me away.

  But the crowd was now in an ugly mood. Men looked askance at one another and soldiers began shouting that the Jews must be in league with the Sultan since they had crucified our Lord. They set upon a terrified Jew who had strayed by chance into the market place, stoning him and hurling him to the ground to kick his yellow face,. before streaming away toward the ghetto.

  Heedless of my pitiable state Andy gripped my arm and soon we found ourselves before the barred gate of the City of Affliction, which from what we could see well deserved its name. Sunlight could never penetrate the stinking alleyways, all doors and windows were shut, and not a living soul was to be
seen. As soon as the soldiers began breaking into the houses the rabbis and elders who had fled to the cellars sent a swift messenger by secret ways to the Christian duke, to offer him the customary protection money.

  When the officers had allowed their men to wreck the houses, throw out and smash the furniture, and violate two luckless Jewesses, they sent mounted men to put an end to the tumult and drive the excited mob back into the city. The horsemen took their time over this and addressed the pillagers in a friendly tone, explaining that while they would not seem to defend the butchers of Christ, yet it was wise to let them survive because they were useful, and a Christian could always squeeze a few coins from them at need. Meanwhile Andy and I hid ourselves under some straw in a stable, and having emptied the last drops from a little Hungarian keg he had brought with him from camp, we sank into the deep sleep of exhaustion.

  It was night when we woke, but the Jews were still singing songs of lamentation and strewing ashes in their hair as they examined their ravaged dwellings. So mournful and eerie was the sound in the darkness of night that cold shudders ran down my spine, but Andy said, “That’s an old song. I’ve heard it in every Christian city where Imperial troops have been quartered. Let us seek out Aaron, for hunger rumbles in my belly.”

  I went with him to the house whence came the terrible lamentation, but the singing died away when we appeared among the crouching figures and asked for Aaron. I believe they were accustomed to the sudden arrival of strangers in their midst at night, for they were not at all alarmed. Having assured themselves that we were to be trusted they opened a secret trap door and took us down into a cellar, from which through evil-smelling underground passages we came to Aaron’s house.

  Aaron was an emaciated man with an expression of suffering. He seemed unsurprised at the sight of Ibrahim’s ring, but kissed it reverently. Bowing deeply before us, he said, “We hoped for a miracle from Jehovah and believed that the new Solomon would ride into the city on a white horse; we would have welcomed him with green boughs, as a conqueror. But Jehovah would not have it so.”

  He rubbed the diamond against the sleeve of his black kaftan and admired its brilliance in the light of a smoking oil lamp. Then he sighed, “Keep the ring, if you think it safer with you than with me. I should only send it back to the Grand Vizier, for I can do nothing in this matter.”

  We spent the night in Aaron’s house and the following day also, for we did not know what else to do. But with the approach of night-the night which the Grand Vizier had appointed for the fire-Andy said, “I should like to do at least something to deserve the ring that Aaron refuses to take, and am weary of being cooped up in this miserable house. Let us go back into the city, brother Michael, and inspect the King’s powder magazine and grain store. Perhaps we could manage at least a small fire, though the Grand Vizier can have little use for it now.”

  To avoid the soldiers posted at the gates of the ghetto, we crept out of the place through the sewers, according to Aaron’s directions. I should mention that this honest Jew refused to take a penny for his help and protection, and merely begged us to speak a good word for him to the Grand Vizier. We found that the powder magazine and the duke’s stables were guarded by numerous sentries; we had no chance, therefore, of starting even the most innocent little fire and so fulfilling in part our promise to the Seraskier.

  In the market place a great crowd of women had assembled about the cooking pots from which compassionate monks were distributing food to the fugitives, who would otherwise have perished from hunger. But on the doorstep of a deserted house I saw a young girl; she had thrown her petticoat over her head and was rocking silently to and fro. Her mute distress so moved me that I spoke to her and offered alms; but she looked up and retorted sharply that she was no trollop to be bought with money. I was startled to see how beautiful she was and to learn that she was one of those who thanks to Andy had escaped from the Turkish camp. She recognized us too, and with a cry of surprise asked how we had come off with our lives, when all other escaped prisoners had been hanged for deserters.

  I begged her to be silent for the love of God, and not attract the attention of the guards, for our lives were now in her hands. She was very lovely, though her hair was soaked with rain and her clothes tattered and muddy. We learned that she and her parents had fled from Hungary-where her father owned an estate near the Transil- vanian border-to join King Ferdinand, but during their flight to Vienna the akindshas slew all the household save herself, whom they led away into slavery.

  When she told her name and sought protection with the military authorities in Vienna, she was received with scorn and her dead father reviled as a rebellious Hungarian. Every Hungarian herd maid, they told her, who escaped from the Turks became a nobleman’s daughter as soon as she entered Vienna. However, for her beauty’s sake one of the court gentlemen promised to take pity on her and sleep with her regularly, provided she would enroll herself among the prostitutes and earn her bread honestly like other fugitives. Twice, because of her hunger, she had spoken to soldiers in the street and begged them for the love of God to give her food and shelter. But these men, having eagerly promised their help, merely led her into some side alley to debauch her, and then left her lying in the mire. She said, “I would give anything to return to my home and seek the protection of the Turks and King Zapolya. Perhaps he would let me keep my father’s estate since I am the only survivor, and then marry me to one of his followers. Not even Turks could treat me as badly as Christians do.”

  Just then heavy raindrops began falling. Andy looked up at the murky clouds and said, “We’re in for a sharp storm, so let’s seek shelter. There we can discuss the matter further, my fair young lady, for your youth and your distress have cut me to the heart.”

  But the poor girl crossed herself and vowed that never again would she go with strange men into alleyways, but would rather perish of cold and hunger where she sat. But we reassured her so earnestly and the rain came down so hard that after anguished hesitation she agreed to go with us. With lowered eyes she told us in a faint voice that her name was Eva, and gave her family name also, but it was one of those heathen Hungarian words that no one can pronounce. We knocked at the doors of many houses but no one would let us in. Fortunately we met one of the hucksters who supplied the landsfaechts, pushing his handcart along the street and looking about for shelter. He sold us bread, meat, and cheese and told us of a respectable brothel-the only place where we could be safe from the provost marshal’s men, as the mistress of it paid the marshal a substantial sum to be allowed to carry on her business in peace.

  The brothel keeper received us cordially as soon as she saw that we were well supplied with money, nor did she try to foist her own girls upon us. Judging by the noise, they were busy enough already. She gave us a clean attic room with the assurance that no one would disturb us before the morning; she even lit the fire so that we might dry our clothes. In return, and to ensure that she would not inform against us, we bought a pitcher of wine from her at an exorbitant price. Brothel keepers are as trustworthy in business matters as Jews, and for the same reason-their lives depend upon it. Not that fools cannot lose their money there as easily as anywhere else, and even be thrown into the street in their underclothes with a chamber pot over them for good measure. Such things must happen when one fails to observe the customs of the house.

  We ate, drank, and warmed ourselves, and when Andy and I had removed our clothes to dry them at the stove, our companion ventured to do the same, retaining only one of her petticoats. Although her clothes were torn I saw that they were of durable and costly stuff, which went far to strengthen my belief in her story. I lent her my comb, and now that wine had brought color to her cheeks I saw that she was an unusually charming, bright-eyed, and clear-skinned beauty. Andy, too, when he had eaten, gazed long at her while the rain drummed on the roof above our heads. At length he said, “Your other petticoats will be dry by now, and you’d better put them on. The Scriptures tell us not to
lead one another into temptation, and I should be loath for my thoughts to go astray because of your bare shoulders.”

  Yet he gazed with ever increasing rapture at the lovely girl, who had evidently been well brought up, for she kept her long-lashed eyes modestly lowered and ate very delicately. As he gazed his eyes grew rounder and he began to fidget and breathe heavily. I had never seen Andy so discomposed in the presence of a woman. He drummed on his knees, clawed at his neck, or scratched his back; for a time he strove to keep his hands demurely folded and when all else failed he thrust them resolutely beneath him and sat upon them with all his weight. Feeling that he had eaten and rested enough I said, “I fancy I hear the vesper bell, so now is our last chance to carry out our plans.”

  At that moment a violent thunderclap resounded above our heads; heaven’s sluice gates were opened and hailstones the size of pigeons’ eggs clattered upon the dripping roofs and flooded streets. After listening to this din for a while Andy said with a sigh of relief, “It was not Allah’s will. This deluge would quench the fiercest fire in a moment and had we foreseen it we need never have come to this devil-ridden city.”

  The storm showed no sign of abating, and indeed grew more violent. For some reason I was beginning to feel much irked by Andy’s presence, and I said, “Perhaps it would be well if you stood guard outside the door, for this shy and charming girl would no doubt like to discuss with me in private how best we may help in her great need.”