Baudolino

by Umberto Eco

  Only at the end of this princely meal did Praxeas give a sign, and some nubians arrived to pour a white liquid into some minuscule goblets. The Poet drained his with one gulp and immediately turned red, emitted a kind of roar, and fell as if dead, until one of the youths sprinkled some water on his face. Praxeas explained that in their land the wine tree did not grow, and the only alcoholic beverage they could produce came from the fermentation of the burq, a berry very common in those parts. But the strength of that drink was such that it could be tasted only in tiny sips or by barely inserting the tongue into the goblet. A real pity that they did not have here that wine so often mentioned in the Gospels, because the priests of Pndapetzim, every time they said Mass, plunged into the most unsuitable drunkenness and had trouble reaching the Ite missa est.

  "When it comes to that, what else were we to expect from these monsters?" Praxeas said with a sigh, moving off to a corner with Baudolino, while, with titters of curiosity, the other eunuchs examined the iron weapons of the travelers.

  "Monsters?" Baudolino asked, with feigned ingenuousness. "I had the impression that here no one noticed the amazing deformities of the others."

  "You must have been listening to one of those," Praxeas said with a scornful smile. "They have lived here together for centuries, they have grown accustomed to one another, and refusing to see the monstrosity of their neighbors, they ignore their own. Monsters, yes, more like animals than men, and capable of reproducing faster than rabbits. This is the people that we must govern, and mercilessly, to prevent them from exterminating one another reciprocally, each race beclouded by its own heresy. This is why, centuries ago, the Priest had them live here, at the confine of the kingdom, so their odious sight would not trouble his subjects, who are—as I assure you, Lord Baudolino—men of great beauty. But it is natural for nature also to generate monsters, and it is indeed inexplicable why the entire human race has not become monstrous, since it committed the most horrendous crime of all, crucifying God the Father."

  Baudolino was coming to realize that even the eunuchs thought wrong, and he asked his host some questions. "Some of these monsters," Praxeas said, "believe that the Son was only adopted by the Father, others wearily debate who precedes whom, and each, monster that he is, is drawn into his monstrous error, multiplying the hypostases of the divinity, believing that the Supreme Good is three different substances or even four. What pagans! There is a single divine substance that is manifested in the course of human vicissitudes through various means or persons. The only divine substance in that it generates is the Father, in that it is generated it is the Son, in that it sanctifies it is the Spirit, but it is always the same divine nature: the rest is like a mask behind which God hides. One substance and one triple person and not, as some heretics affirm, three persons in one substance. But if this is so, and if God, all entire, mind you, and not delegating some adoptive offspring, was made flesh, then it is the Father Himself who suffered on the cross. Crucify the Father! Do you understand? Only an accursed race could arrive at such an outrage, and the duty of the faithful believer is to avenge the Father. No mercy for the accursed breed of Adam."

  Since the beginning of the story of the journey, Niketas had listened in silence without interrupting Baudolino further. But now he did, because he realized that his interlocutor was uncertain how to interpret what he himself was saying. "Do you think," he asked, "that the eunuchs hated the human race because it had made the Father suffer, or that they had embraced that heresy because they hated the human race?"

  "That's what I asked myself, that evening and afterwards, never finding an answer."

  "I know how eunuchs think. I encountered many at the imperial palace. They try to amass power to escape their fury towards all those capable of reproducing. But often, in my long experience, I sensed that also many who are not eunuchs use their power to express what they would otherwise be unable to do. Perhaps commanding is a more overwhelming passion than making love."

  "There were other things that left me puzzled. Listen: the eunuchs of Pndapetzim constituted a caste that reproduced itself by election, inasmuch as their nature did not allow other ways. Praxeas said that generation after generation the elders chose comely youths and reduced them to their own state, first making them servants and then heirs. Where did they find those youths, so lissome and well-made, when the entire province of Pndapetzim was inhabited only by freaks of nature?"

  "Surely the eunuchs came from a foreign country. It happens in many armies and public administrations: those who hold power must not belong to the community they govern, so as not to feel tenderness or complicity towards the subjects. Perhaps this is what the Priest wanted, to maintain in subjection that deformed and unruly people."

  "To be able to send them to die without remorse. Because from the words of Praxeas I sensed two other things: Pndapetzim was the last outpost before the beginning of the Priest's kingdom. After it, there was only a chasm between the mountains that led to another territory, and on the cliffs that dominated the pass the nubian guards were stationed, ready to provoke landslides of boulders on any who ventured into that narrow gorge. At the other end of the pass a swamp began, endless, a swamp so insidious that whoever tried to cross it was sucked under the muddy terrain or sand in perpetual movement, and after he sank up to his calves, he could no longer extricate himself, and then he vanished completely like someone drowned in the sea. In the swamp there was only one safe path, which permitted crossing, but it was known only to the eunuchs, who had been trained to recognize it by certain signs. Thus Pndapetzim was the gate, the defense, the access that had to be breached if one were to enter the kingdom."

  "Since you were their first visitors in God knows how many centuries, that defense didn't represent a heavy task."

  "On the contrary. Praxeas was very vague about this question, as if the very name of those who threatened them was covered by some veto, but once, in an aside, he decided to tell me that the whole province lived under the threat of a warrior people, the White Huns, who could at any moment attempt an invasion. If they were to arrive at the gates of Pndapetzim, the eunuchs would send skiapods, blemmyae, and all the other monsters to be slaughtered to arrest the conquest for a bit, then they would have to lead the deacon to the pass, send down from the peaks enough boulders to block every passage, and withdraw into the kingdom. If they failed and were captured, and because the White Huns might force one of them, under torture, to reveal the only true path to the land of the Priest, they had all been trained so that, before falling prisoner, they would kill themselves with a poison each kept in a little bag hanging around his neck, under his tunic. The horrible thing is that Praxeas was sure that they would be saved in any case, because at the last moment they would have the nubians as a shield. It is fortunate, Praxeas said, to have some Circoncellions as bodyguards."

  "I have heard mention of them, but referring to a time many centuries ago on the coasts of Africa. There were heretics down there then known as Donatists, who believed that the church should be a society of saints, but that sadly all its ministers were by now corrupt. Therefore, according to them, no priest could administer the sacraments, and they were constantly at war with all the other Christians. The most determined of the Donatists were, in fact, the Circoncellions, a barbarian people of the Moorish race, who roamed through fields and valleys in search of martyrdom, flung themselves down from cliffs on wayfarers with shouts of " Deo laudes," threatening them with their clubs, ordering them to kill them, so that they could experience the glory of sacrifice. And as the others took fright and refused to do it, the Circoncellions first robbed them of all their possessions, then bashed their heads in. But I thought those fanatics were extinct."

  "Obviously the nubians of Pndapetzim were the descendants of those people. They would be, Praxeas told me with his usual contempt for his subjects, invaluable in warfare, because they would gladly allow themselves to be killed by the enemy, and during the time it would take to fell them all, the eunuch
s would be able to block the pass. But for too many centuries the Circoncellians had been awaiting this event; no one had arrived to invade the province, and they were champing at the bit, unprepared for living in peace. Because they couldn't attack and rob the monsters they were ordered to protect, they vented their impatience by hunting and fighting barehanded the wild animals; sometimes they ventured beyond the Sambatyon, in the rocky wastes where chimeras and manticores were waiting, and some of the nubians had had the joy of meeting the same end as Abdul. But that didn't suffice. On occasion the more convinced among them went mad. Praxeas had already learned that one of them, that afternoon, had begged us to decaptitate him; others, while they were on guard at the pass, flung themselves from the peaks, and, in short, it was hard to restrain them. Only the eunuchs could keep them in a state of vigil, warning them daily of imminent danger, persuading them that the White Huns were really at the gates, and so the nubians often roamed the plains, narrowing their eyes, leaping with joy at every cloud of dust they could glimpse in the distance. They awaited the arrival of the invaders, in a hope that had been consuming them for centuries, generation after generation. Meanwhile, since not all were truly prepared for the sacrifice, but announced in loud voices their yearning for martyrdom in order to be well-fed and well-clad, they had to be kept content with delicacies and quantities of burq. I understood how the resentment of the eunuchs increased from day to day, forced to govern monsters they hate, and having to entrust their lives to fanatical gluttons perennially drunk."

  It was late, and Praxeas had had the nubian guard accompany them to their quarters, opposite the tower, in a stone hive of modest size, though its interior provided space for them all. They climbed those airy ladders and, exhausted by that singular day, they slept until morning.

  They were wakened by Gavagai, prepared to serve them. He had been informed by the nubians that the deacon was ready to receive his guests.

  They returned to the tower, and Praxeas personally led them up the broad outside steps, to the last floor. There they stepped through a door and found themselves in a circular corridor from which many other doors opened, one beside the other, like a set of teeth.

  "I realized only later how that floor had been conceived, Master Niketas. It is hard for me to describe it, but I will try. Imagine that this circular corridor is the perimeter of a circle in whose center there is a hall, also circular. Every door that opens into the corridor leads into a passage, and each passage should be a radius of the circle, leading to the central room. But if the corridors were straight, anyone from the outer circular corridor could see what happens in the central hall and anyone in the central hall could see someone arriving along a passage. On the contrary, however, each passage began in a straight line, but at the end it bent, making a curve, and then led into the central hall. So no one from the outer corridor could glimpse the hall, guaranteeing the privacy of the one inhabiting it...."

  "But the inhabitant of the hall could not see anyone arriving, either, except at the last moment."

  "True, and this detail struck me immediately. You understand: the deacon, master of the province, was shielded from any intruder, but at the same time he could be surprised without advance warning by a visit of his eunuchs. He was a prisoner who could not be spied upon by his guardians, but could not spy upon them either."

  "Those eunuchs of yours were more clever than ours. But now, tell me about the deacon."

  They entered. The great circular hall was empty, except for some cupboards around the throne. The throne was in the center, it was of dark wood, surmounted by a baldachin. On the throne sat a human form, wrapped in a dark garment, his head covered by a turban, with a veil that fell over his face. His feet were shod in dark slippers, and dark also were the gloves that covered his hands, so nothing could be seen of the seated figure's features.

  At either side of the throne, crouching next to the deacon, were two other veiled forms. One of them from time to time handed the deacon a vase in which perfumes were burning, so that he could inhale the fumes. The deacon tried to reject this, but Praxeas made a sign to him, imploring, commanding him to accept, and hence it must have been some kind of medicine.

  "Stop at five paces from the throne, bow, and before offering your greeting, wait for his invitation," Praxeas whispered.

  "Why is he veiled?" Baudolino asked.

  "That is not asked. It is thus because it pleases him thus."

  They did as they had been told. The deacon raised a hand and said, in Greek: "From my boyhood I have been prepared for the day of your coming. My logothete has already told me everything, and I will be happy to assist you and to have you as my guests while you await your august companion. I have also received your incomparable gift. It is not merited, all the more so in that it comes to me from donors themselves so worthy of veneration."

  His voice was unsteady, that of someone in pain, but the sound was youthful. Baudolino was profuse in greetings so reverent that no one could later have accused him of having boasted of the dignity that was being attributed to him. But the deacon observed that such humility was the obvious sign of their holiness, and so there was nothing to be done.

  Then he invited them to be seated on a circle of eleven cushions that he had had prepared at five paces from the throne; he had them served with burq along with some sweet cakes that had a stale taste, and he said he was eager to learn from them, who had visited the fabled West, if truly there existed in that land all the wonders of which he had read in so many books that had passed through his hands. He asked if there were truly a country known as Enotria, where the tree grew which drips the beverage that Jesus had transformed into his own blood. If in that land the bread was not pressed flat, half-a-finger thick, but swelled miraculously every morning at the cock's crow, in the form of a fruit, soft and light beneath a golden crust. If it was true that churches there were to be seen built free of the cliffs, if the palace of the great priest of Rome had ceilings and beams of perfumed wood from the legendary island of Cyprus. If this palace had doors of blue stone mixed with the horns of the cerastes, which prevented anyone entering from bringing poison inside, and windows of a stone that allowed the passing of light. If in that same city there was a great circular construction where now Christians ate lions, and on its vault appeared two perfect imitations of the sun and the moon, as large as they really are, which followed their celestial arc, amid birds made by human hands that sang the sweetest of melodies. If beneath the floor, also of transparent stone, porphyry fish swam freely. If it was true that this construction was reached by a stairway where, at the base of a certain step, there was an aperture from which one could watch all the things that took place in the universe as they were occurring, all the monsters of the depths of the sea, dawn and evening, the multitudes that live in Ultima Thule, a cobweb of moon-colored threads at the center of a black pyramid, flakes of a substance white and cold that fall from the sky on Africa Perusta in the month of August, all the deserts of this universe, every letter of every page of every book, sunsets the rose color above the Sambatyon, the tabernacle of the world set between two shining slabs that reproduce it to infinity, expanses of water, like lakes without shores, tempests, all the ants that exist on earth, a sphere that reproduces the movement of the stars, the secret throb of one's own heart and viscera, and the face of each of us when we will be transfigured by death...

  "Who's been telling these people such whoppers?" the Poet, shocked, asked himself. While Baudolino was trying to reply prudently, saying that the wonders of the distant Occident were certainly numerous, even if surely their fame, which passes valleys and mountains enlarging them, loves to amplify and surely he could bear witness that he had never seen, there where the sun sets, Christians who ate lions. The Poet snickered, whispering: "At least, not on fast days..."

  They realized that their mere presence had kindled the imagination of that young prince perennially shut up in his circular prison and that, if you live there where the sun rises, you
cannot help but dream of the marvels of the sunset country (especially, the Poet went on murmuring—luckily in Teutonic—if you live in a shit-ass place like Pndapetzim).

  Then the deacon understood that his guests also wanted to know some things and he remarked that perhaps, after so many years of absence, they did not remember how to return to the kingdom from which, according to tradition, they came, also because over the centuries a series of earthquakes, and other transformations of that land of theirs had profoundly altered mountains and plains. He explained how difficult it was to proceed through the pass and cross the swamp, he warned them that the rainy season was beginning, and it was not wise to set off on their journey at once. "Furthermore, my eunuchs," he said, "will have to send messengers to my father, to tell him of your visit, and they must then return with his consent to your journey. The road is long, and all this will take a year or even more. In the meantime, you must await the arrival of your brother. I may tell you that here you will be given lodging worthy of your rank." He said this in an almost mechanical voice, as if he were reciting a lesson just learned.

  The guests asked him what was the function and the fate of a deacon John, and he explained that, perhaps in their day things did not yet proceed thus, for the laws of the kingdom had been in fact modified after the departure of the Magi. It should not be thought that the priest was a single person who had continued to reign for millennia; it was a high position. At the death of each priest, his deacon ascended the throne. Then, immediately, dignitaries of the kingdom went out to visit all the families, and they identified, by certain miraculous signs, a boy-child not yet three months of age, who became the future heir and putative son of the priest. The child was joyfully given up by his family and was immediately sent to Pndapetzim, where he spent his childhood and youth being prepared to succeed his adoptive father, to fear him, honor him, and love him. The young man spoke with a sad voice because, he said, it is fated that a deacon cannot remember his carnal father, nor see his putative one, not even on his catafalque, because from the moment of his death to the moment when the heir reached the capital of the kingdom, as he had said, a year went by, at least.