Antek looks at her sadly and waits.
“While Andrew was cleaning your clothes, these things fell out of your pocket. Can you tell me what this means? You’re going all that way alone with no suitcase and no overcoat. And you have a large sum of money, more than grown-ups usually entrust to children, and if they do have that much cash, they usually hide it very carefully. I don’t suspect you of anything, Antek, but I need to know. I’m not going to withdraw my invitation, but I’m sure you understand . . .”
There’s a silence.
“I’ll tell you what my Grandma used to say about me: I am a troubled, very troubled, but honest boy. I like you, because you have a kind face, so I broke off my long journey. Today, at once, or tomorrow with your permission, I’ll continue on my way. A great wrong has been done to me. If it weren’t for you, I’d have left Poland with a grudge against the whole country. But you have reconciled me with my homeland. I’m grateful to you for that. And that’s all I can say.”
He stops talking.
Just then the pony trap drives up to the porch.
“All right, then. Stay until tomorrow. But before you leave, please let’s have another chat about your secret. Remember that whatever you choose to tell me or keep to yourself, I will still be your friend. And remember that in case of need, you’ll always be able to come and visit us. We aren’t rich, but you’ll always find good advice and a friendly welcome here.”
They’re sitting on a bench in the garden. Zofia is weaving a garland and singing. They start to chat.
“It was a fairy godmother who gave me the bouquet of heather. Where else could those flowers on the train seat have come from?”
“Maybe it wasn’t a fairy godmother, but a wizard?”
“No, no. Wizards take things away, they don’t give them. They cause people harm, but fairy godmothers help them.”
“Do you help people?” asks Kaytek.
“Yes, I do, if I can.”
“So you’re a fairy godmother. And I’ve often played nasty tricks on people, so I must be a wizard.”
“No, Antek, you’re not bad, but you need a fairy godmother to take care of you.”
“So please take care of me.”
“I don’t know if I’ll manage. Fairy godmothers don’t have that sort of power. A fairy godmother only appears for a short while, helps someone, and disappears again. And she only comes when someone has been badly wronged or is in great danger. Do you know the fairy tale about Cinderella?”
“Yes.”
“Wizards want to destroy all the fairy godmothers. Dwarves help fairy godmothers, but they don’t have much power . . . The fight will continue for a long time, until the moment comes when a good wizard rebels and becomes leader of all the fairy godmothers. He’ll capture the fortress where the wizard chief is hiding and free all the imprisoned fairy godmothers.”
“So who’s this wizard chief? And what does he look like? Where’s his fortress?”
“Beyond seven mountains, beyond seven rivers and seas, there is a gloomy castle surrounded by a high wall. In a dark room, on a golden tray, lies a head that gives orders – the wizard chief has no arms or legs or heart or eyes, because long, long ago a rebel wizard cut his head off his body, but the head is still alive.”
“How do you know all this?”
“My nursemaid told me some of it, I dreamed some of it, and I made the rest up myself.”
“Everything you’re saying is so strange.”
“Yes, every human thought is strange and mysterious. The world is strange and mysterious. Life is strange and mysterious; it’s often sad, but it’s sometimes so beautiful and so full of joy.”
That night, Kaytek quietly opens the window.
He jumps down into the garden.
The dog begins to bark. Kaytek orders him to be quiet.
He goes into the depths of the garden and stops under a tree.
He concentrates and gives a deep sigh. His head begins to spin.
I want, I command a chest full of gold to appear, he says, and repeats it.
The familiar box appears.
I want a spade. I want a spade.
Night. Silence. Darkness.
Kaytek starts digging, but the ground is hard. Soon his hands are aching. It’s hot. He throws off his jacket. He digs, overturns earth, and measures the hole to see if it’s deep enough.
By now he has forgotten where he is and what he’s doing. He just keeps digging doggedly, just to make it deeper, just to dig harder, just to throw more earth out of the hole. He doesn’t rest for a moment.
Finally he has finished.
A cat runs across the path.
Kaytek pushes the heavy box – one, two, three! It shudders and wobbles. He tries again, and it starts to slide.
Something glitters on the ground. He picks it up and looks at it: it’s the two twenty-groshy coins he earned at the market that time and kept as a souvenir.
He breathes on them. “For luck!”
He throws them onto the lid of the box and covers it with earth.
Then he gives a careful command: Let no one know someone was digging here. Let the grass grow over this spot.
And it happens, just as he has ordered.
He goes back to the house.
He reckons this buried treasure will be his entire reserve when he comes back from his travels, and that Zofia’s house is like a quiet haven where he’ll be able to rest after the labors of his long journey.
“So you’re leaving? Haven’t you changed your mind?” says Zofia’s mom the next morning.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Go, then, and keep your secret. Thank you for not telling me lies. I don’t like fibs and excuses at all.”
They give him a basket of food.
“Here you have some eggs from our hens, and here’s some cheese, some jam, and some honey from our hive.”
That’s probably just what it was like at Grandpa’s house.
“Well, off you go, Andrew, or you’ll be late for the train.”
Zofia waves her handkerchief.
“It’s a pity you’re leaving, young master,” says Andrew. “Our Zofia would have some company if you stayed, because she’s all on her own. She’s a good child, our little miss. We were sorry when Madam took her off to the city. They say there’s a war on there – lots of people have been killed. God forbid any misfortune should happen to our Zofia. Yes, yes, Madam is a good woman, and the late master was a good man too. They’re a noble family.”
“It’s rare for anyone at home in the city to talk so well of people,” thinks Kaytek.
As he says goodbye, he gives Andrew a gold coin.
“What’s this for? You can’t give me this, young master.”
But Kaytek swiftly jumps out of the pony trap because the train is pulling in.
The train lets out a whistle. And it moves away.
The compartment is crowded, full of unpleasant people talking about uninteresting things. At the fifth station Kaytek starts hearing foreign speech.
He gives a command to change his clothes, then conjures up a leather suitcase and a first-class ticket. Then he demands: I want to understand foreign languages.
Just then the experts were traveling home from Warsaw on the very same train.
“I’m afraid we did the wrong thing,” says the Frenchman “We shouldn’t have opened fire.”
“That’s definitely incorrect, my dear colleague,” says the Italian. “Mr. X, as we called him, drowned the island himself. I examined the spot with extreme precision. If the cannonballs had destroyed the castle there would have been more rubble left.”
“But maybe the water carried it away?”
“No. It happened in some other way.”
He takes a piece of rock out of his case.
&
nbsp; “Look through the magnifying glass, my friend. There are crystals here that do not exist on our planet.”
And they begin a scientific discussion which Kaytek can’t understand and doesn’t find very interesting.
“Ultimately we can agree we are dealing with a creature from another planet, where the inhabitants know more and can do more than we can. What we think of as magic, for them is as simple and easy as lighting a match.”
“What? Students at school don’t like new tasks and exercises either. Nor do we scientists like new things that are difficult and incomprehensible. How can we admit that we believe the ghost of Copernicus reincarnated itself as the Star Man and overturned the trees in the park?”
“And yet seeking out what’s new, unknown, and ever better is actually the path for us scientists to follow.”
Kaytek feels like having a bite to eat.
He opens the basket full of provisions, and right at the top, he finds a sprig of heather and a note saying:
A keepsake for Kaytek the Wizard from Zofia the Fairy Godmother.
Chapter Thirteen
Paul and Pete – Kaytek fights the African – In the prince’s hotel – The newspaper reporter
They say Paris is the capital of the world.
People go there from all over the entire planet to study, to work, and to play.
So Kaytek arrives in the capital of the world.
He stands helplessly outside the station, not knowing what to do or which way to turn.
Thanks to his magic powers he can understand what the people around him are saying, but he feels strange surrounded by a foreign language, as if he’s in tight, borrowed clothing.
Crowds rush by, vehicles speed past. No one takes any notice of him.
So he’s amazed and pleased when he suddenly hears his own name.
“Look at that – it’s Kaytek. I’m sure I recognize him.”
“You dope. How could he have gotten here on his own? And so smartly dressed, with a fancy suitcase?”
“All right then. Let’s ask him – we’ll see.”
“You ask if you want to. I’m not going to make myself into a laughing stock.”
That’s what two boys are saying – one the same age as Kaytek, the other older.
They’re staring at him, and Kaytek is staring back.
“Don’t I know them? I’m sure I’ve seen them somewhere before,” he thinks, but he can’t remember where.
“Excuse me, but have you just come from Warsaw?” asks one of the boys in French.
“Yes, sir,” replies Kaytek, also in French.
“Excuse me, but have you always lived in Warsaw?”
“Yes, since birth.”
The older boy comes up and says to his brother in Polish: “You see, you dope! Kaytek can’t speak French, can he?”
“Maybe he learned it. We haven’t seen him for three years.”
“And he’s already learned French. He was a great one for learning, all right. He was even more of a lazybones than us.”
Kaytek feels awful.
“Wait, let’s ask. Maybe he understands? Excuse me, sir, but do you speak Polish?”
“Of course I do,” admits Kaytek, weary of the long preamble and curious to know who they are.
“So you’re Kaytek?” they both cry.
“One and the same. And who are you?”
“Don’t you remember us? The time we went to the River Vistula together and some boys stole your clothes?”
“And the time we snitched apples from a stall and a policeman chased you?”
“It wasn’t like that – it was you the policeman caught.”
“Maybe. It’s so long ago. I got a thrashing from my dad that time. Do you remember how we used to smoke cigarettes in the garage, near the gas?”
“And how we put out the lights in the hallway?”
So they laugh and chat. Passers-by politely walk around the jolly trio.
“You know what, come to our place. Leave your suitcase at the station. Why should you drag it around with you? Give me a franc and I’ll go fetch you a receipt. You can pick it up tomorrow. Wait here for me, you two.”
“There’s nothing like old friends! Fancy that, Paul, Pete, and Kaytek together again. Let’s go to the circus today.”
Paul and Pete pick up the suitcase and the basket. They swap glances, wink, and fail to hand the receipt to Kaytek.
They didn’t actually like each other much in Warsaw. Kaytek was a rascal in those days, it’s true, but those two were sneaky little thieves. If he weren’t a wizard, he’d have to take better care of himself. But it’s all right, because they’ll show him the way – real people whom he knows, not a conjured-up guide.
They go down some stone steps, deep under the ground, and there, below the street, beneath the houses, is a train station, all lit up.
It’s the metro! An underground electric tram system.
They hear a thudding sound, then a bang, a crash, and the train thunders in.
The carriage doors open automatically. They only just have time to jump on board.
They speed down narrow tunnels underground, station after station, stop after stop. A crowd of people gets off, another one gets on. It all proceeds quickly and efficiently.
“Watch out – we’re changing trains here.”
“Why is everyone in such a hurry?”
“Because this is Paris, brother.”
They change trains. They go up one flight of stairs and down another; even though there’s a crowd of people, they all carefully pass each other without pushing.
“Get in quickly or the doors will slam shut on you. In Paris you don’t have time to stop and stare.”
Now Kaytek remembers everything.
“So you left for France, didn’t you?”
“Yes. First our father came here, then we left with our mom and we were all together again. Then our father ran away from us and we were left alone. After that our mom found a new husband, a Frenchman. Then our mom died, and we were left with our stepdad, the Frenchman.”
“Does he look after you?”
“What does he care about us? He’s out all night, and we’re out all day. He’s a boozer but he’s a jolly guy.”
“You’re jolly too.”
“Why not? Should we be weeping for Mom? Waste of time. Gotta earn a living. We feed the Frenchman more than he feeds us. He’d rather see a franc than see us. So do you have plenty of cash?”
“Yes.”
“Because you see, we could go see the boxing at the circus. Today the African is fighting the Turk. The African’s real strong – he sure hit the Turk on the nose yesterday, he must have lost a bucket of blood. Hats off to you, brother! What great boxers. Today’s the big fight. Now we’ll show you Paris – you’ll see our apartment at the hotel.”
“You live in a hotel?”
“Mais oui! Like every deadbeat in this town. When our dad wrote that he was living in a hotel, our mom thought he was rich. But the bedbugs sure can bite! In America, every hobo has his own car. Every country has its own customs. I ain’t gonna be a chauffeur – it’s no better than being a coachman. I’m gonna be a pilot. This is where we get off.”
They emerge from the metro into the street and start walking along.
They come to a dirty house on a narrow street.
“Here we are! Come and have dinner with us.”
There’s a small, dark, shabby room with a narrow bed, a little table, and two chairs.
They fetch a bottle and some glasses. They cut three slices of bread.
“Have a drink. Eat.”
“What is it, wine?”
“You’ll see. In Poland, the beetroot soup is better than this wine; it’s cheap and sour, but it makes your head spin. If you give us a few francs,
we can go buy some cold meat.”
Kaytek puts fifty francs on the table.
“I’ll go buy some,” says Paul.
“Wait, I’m coming with you,” says Pete.
“No need for that. I’ll be back in a moment.”
“He won’t be back,” says Pete, as soon as Paul has shot out of the room like an arrow.
“Why not?”
“It’s very simple – because he has fifty francs. I know him well; he is my brother, after all.”
He’s right. They wait in vain.
“Let’s go to a restaurant. Don’t be afraid. On your first day in Paris you’re sure to spend more money, but once you get to know the place, you won’t spend as much.”
So they eat dinner at a restaurant.
Kaytek sees the Eiffel Tower, the boulevards, squares, and big stores. He has always liked looking at the stores in Warsaw too, and walking along the streets where colored lights keep flashing on and off. All Paris is full of lights and colors.
“Well, that’s enough for today. Shall we go to the circus?”
“If it’s a long way, we’d better take the metro.”
“Oh, so your feet are hurting. That’s Paris for you, brother. You’ll soon get used to it.”
So they arrive at the circus.
“Give me some cash,” says Pete. “Wait here while I go to the box office for the tickets.”
Kaytek gives him a hundred francs.
“Ho ho, that’s a really fine banknote!” says Pete, and goes.
Kaytek waits in vain. He smiles – he can guess what has happened.
“They’ve relieved me of some cash. Well, good luck to them.”
He goes and stands in the ticket queue by himself.
“Where is everyone going to fit?” he wonders.
But they all fit inside the huge building like sardines – it looks as if there are no seats left at all, yet more and more people keep pouring in, spreading onto all the floors in the auditorium, into the boxes, the stalls, and the gallery.
Until there’s just one empty seat left – next to Kaytek.
The band starts to play and the show begins.
First on are the performing horses. Second are the acrobats. But the audience is waiting impatiently for the boxing match to start. Kaytek is curious too. He wonders why no one ever claps – maybe they have a different custom here in Paris.
Kaytek the Wizard Page 15
