House of Day, House of Night

by Olga Tokarczuk

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  age. For man by his nature i s a peaceable being, seeking the company of others, not solitary and wild . . . What is more fitting ro our nature than to enter into union with another, beloved person, to

  love him, to multiply and acquire land, as Our Lord has enjoined?

  Did not the Son of God tell us: 'By this shall all men know that ye are

  my disciples, if ye have love one to another'? And Kummernis

  replied: I already have a beloved husband for evermore and I am

  united with him. To this her father cried out: What? You have a

  husband without my consent?

  Father, restrain your anger, your son-in-law is jesus Christ, replied

  Kummernis.

  Kummernis is basely kidnapped and imprisoned

  by her own father

  XIV The baron returned home crestfallen, but it was not melancholy that was poisoning his heart, not unrequited love, but anger and resentment that anyone should dare to oppose his will. So he

  incited Wolfram and together they committed a terrible sacrilege - by

  force of arms they attacked the convent where Kummernis was

  living, recaptured her, tied her to a horse and kidnapped her. Despite

  the faa that she begged and implored them, reminding them O'er

  and over that she no longer belonged to the world but ro jesus Christ.

  they ignored all her pleas. locked her up in a windowless room and

  left her alone for some time, so that her will would be crushed and

  her belief in marriage would return. Every day her father came to her

  and asked if she had changed her mind yet. And the longer and the

  more steadfastly she persisted. the greater was his rancour and

  hatred towards God. For nothing had come of the wars. his castle and

  property had fallen into chaos, and he no longer had a family.

  Therefore he kept her without food or drink, imagining that through

  hunger and thirst he would break her will. But for whole days on end

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  she lay prostrate on the flagstone floor and prayed, and no hint of

  hunger could touch her. Even Wolfram grew disheartened and started

  asking the baron to renounce his obduracy.

  Sometimes Wolfram looked through his future wife's keyhole and

  he always saw her in the same position - lying with arms outstretched, face up towards the vault. Her eyes were fixed on a single point and remained motionless. And how beautiful she was.

  Kummernis's prayers in imprisonment

  XV. She remained without stirring and prayed: I have spurned the

  kingdom of the world and all its finery, but not out of fear of sin nor

  out of pious self-interest, only out of love of my Lord Jesus Christ,

  whom I saw and fell in love with, of whom I am enamoured for

  evermore. I sought Your countenance, 0 Lord, and in myself I found

  it, so that the world is no longer necessary to me. You provided me,

  0 Lord , with my sex and my woman's body, which has been a bone

  of contention and a source of all manner of desire. Deliver me, 0

  Lord, from this gift, for I do not know what I am to do with it. Take

  back my beauty and give me a sign of covenant that You love me

  too, unworthy as I am, and have destined me for Yourself since

  birth.

  The miracle of Kummernis

  XVI.

  must bravely continue my account of the life of Saint

  Kummernis and approach the day of her death, though it will be

  hard for me to write about it, and even harder for you to believe.

  As the baron and the knight Wolfram were waiting for some sort

  of change, the fear grew in them that they had presumed to alter

  something over which they had no influence. In order to dissolve this

  fear and for a while at least to forget about the imprisoned girl, they

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  went hunting and held feasts. In the mornings the horns rang out,

  and in the evenings music resounded.

  During one of these feasts the baron said to Wolfram: If you

  were to go in there and take her by force, then she, who does not

  know the taste of love, would realize what she is giving up. and

  would throw herself into your arms. Do you think she is any different

  from these harlots who are willing to pull up their skirts at every

  demand?

  Wolfram obediently stood up, staggered, but took himself in

  hand and set off straight for the door. The baron pushed away his

  harlot, ordered his beer to be poured and waited. But only a

  moment had passed when Wolfram came back again. His face was

  the picture of horror - he was opening and closing his mouth, and

  pointing behind him. The din in the hall fell completely silent. The

  baron sprang to his feet and rushed in the direction of Wolfram's

  pointing finger, and after him slipped the curious guests. servants

  and musicians.

  XVII. In the windowless room stood Kummernis. but it was not

  the same woman that they all knew. Her face was covered with a

  silky beard and her hair fell flowing to her shoulders. From the tattered bodice of her dress there protruded two naked, girlish breasts. The gaze of her dark, but gentle eyes moved across the

  faces of the inquisitive onlookers and finally came to rest on the

  baron. The harlots began to make the sign of the cross and knelt

  down one after another. Kummernis. or whoever it was, raised her

  hands, as if to enfold them all to her breast. In a quiet voice she

  said: My Lord has delivered me from myself and has bestowed His

  face on me.

  That same night the baron gave orders for the freak to be walled

  up in the room. Wolfram mounted his horse and. without taking his

  leave, departed.

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  The second coming of the Devil and his three temptations

  XVIII. On the first night the Devil came to Kummernis in the form

  of an infant. When she stopped praying for a moment, she found a

  cradle by the wall, and in it a tiny child, whining helplessly.

  Surprised to see the child, Kummernis interrupted her prayer, took

  it in her arms and nestled it to her breast. The devil burst out laughing in a gruff voice and said triumphantly: Now I've got you. But at once she replied: No, it is I that have got you. And nestled him yet

  more closely to her breast. The Devil tried to tear himself away, but

  he couldn't, so he decided to change his shape again. But the force

  radiating from the breast of the saint was so powerful that it stupefied the Devil and weakened him. He realized that he was contending with a being as powerful as he, maybe even more powerful because

  of her union with the Lord. Yet he did not renounce his resolve, but

  simply changed his approach.

  You could love and be loved, he said.

  I could, she replied.

  You could bear a child in your womb, and then bring it into the

  world, he said.

  Indeed I could, she said.

  You could bathe it, feed it, swaddle it and caress it. You could watch

  it grow and become like you in body and soul. You could dedicate it to

  your God, and other children too, and He would be gratified.

  So I could.

  Look at me, said the Devil.

  She clasped him more tightly to her breast. Tenderly she stroked his

  smooth skin. Then Kum
mernis drew forth her breast and set the Devil

  to it to suck. The Devil struggled and vanished just as he had appeared.

  XIX. On the second day when she paused in prayer he appeared to

  her as a Bishop and delivered a speech of the kind that Bishops are

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  in the habit of making. He said to her: What are you trying to show

  them? That God has literally fulfilled your request and changed you

  into a monster? You should know him a little by now. He does not do

  such things.

  They do not understand what has happened. They are ashamed

  of you and will forget you. They will curse you and laugh at you.

  This miracle will fill them with dread. They will not believe that it

  comes from Him. Miracles are meant to be beautiful and sublime,

  to spread sweet odours and to shine with heavenly radiance, to the

  sound of angelic music. But what have you become? A woman

  with a beard. Now you are only fit for the circus in the marketplace.

  Your obstinate sojourn here, in solitude, with an alien face instead

  of your beautiful countenance, is senseless. You are not Him. He

  has made a joke of you and is no longer concerned about you. He has

  forgotten you, He has gone to create new worlds. Do you really think

  you have a place in His thoughts? He has left you among the

  common rabble, who are just as likely to demand your sanctification

  as your burning at the stake.

  No one will remember you. You are here in vain and your suffering is in vain. Are you trying to teach God about Jove? Do you expect Him to fall in love with your wretched person?

  At these words Kummernis made the sign of the cross before the

  Bishop and replied: All of your strength is derived from doubt. May

  you one day come to know the mercy of faith.

  At these words the Devil vanished.

  XX.

  On the third day a holy crucifix appeared in Kummernis's cell.

  and on it the body of the Redeemer, bur without a face. Then

  Kurnmernis's heart was flooded with grief and terrible guilt that He

  had deprived Himself of a face because of her. But Kummcrnis's soul

  was alert - where guilt appears, there He cannot be present. So she

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  realized that the Devil had come to her a third time, and she made the

  sign of the cross three times over the crucifix. The Devil knew that he

  had been recognized and began to tremble.

  What do you want from me? he asked in terror, for it was a long

  time since anyone like this woman had walked in a human body.

  She replied: Make your confession to me. Admit your sins to me.

  The Devil cried out in despair: How can it be? Am I to make my

  confession to a human being?

  But he could see that he had no other way out, so he began to

  speak, first resentfully, then with ever greater humility. And for three

  days and three nights he confessed his sins to her, finally begging

  the whole human race through her to grant him forgiveness for all

  manner of evil that he had done to it.

  Kummernis told him: Are you not also a child of God, just as I am,

  just as all people are?

  And as he answered her, she knew the mystery of God and

  released the barely living Devil from her embrace.

  The martyrdom and death of Kummernis

  XXI.

  In his confusion the baron started to drink even more, and

  when he came to, he found fresh flowers and lighted candles before

  the door of the walled-up room. He also found a huddle of women

  deep in prayer, who at once fled before him, in fear of his anger. This

  infuriated him even more.

  In a booming voice he shouted at Kummernis: Who are you to

  oppose my will?

  She replied: God is within me.

  The baron was overcome with a rage greater than he had ever

  felt before. Neither as a newly born infant pushing his way into the

  world had he experienced it, nor even while massacring the armies

  of the infidels. This was a fury that could only have its source in

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  God or in the Devil. With a single kick he demolished the freshly

  built wall and found himself facing the creature that had evaded his

  will. Blinded by rage, he threw himself upon her, and shouting

  oaths, he stabbed her with a dagger. But even this was not enough

  for him, so he raised her body and nailed it crucified to the roof

  beams, crying out as he did so: If God is within you, then die like

  God.

  Even after death he would not give her peace, and before she was

  laid in her grave he ordered the beard to be cut from her face, but it

  miraculously grew again.

  After that, for the rest of his sinful life, he effaced the beard from

  images of the saint. But the memory of the saint survived and

  inspired much hope in people's hearts, spreading throughout the

  country and abroad, where she was given many names, for each

  land engenders new names.

  Conclusion

  XX/l All that is related here I took from the inspiration of the Holy

  Spirit, from the works of Kummernis, as well as from the archives of

  the Benedictine convent at Kloster and from tales that I heard about

  her.

  Whoever you are, as you read these words, I beseech you to

  remember the sinner Paschalis, monk, who - were God to grant him

  the opportunity to choose - would far more willingly choose the body

  of Kummernis, with all its suffering and merits, than the honours of

  any kingdom.

  Tell this story to future generations, so that they may know that

  no evil can subjugate the human soul, and that a person united with

  Christ may die, but can never be defeated.

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  T h e w i g m

  -

  a ll e r

  Last year Marta showed me her wig-maker's chest. She keeps it

  under the window in the main room. It is lined with old newspapers, in which all the necessary equipment is also wrapped.

  She has ready-made wigs in there, on wooden heads stored in

  cellophane to prevent even the tiniest speck of dust from landing on them, and she also keeps skeins of unprocessed hair, waiting to be transformed into wigs.

  She unwrapped the newspaper and showed them to me. 'Feel

  how soft and alive it is,' she said. 'Hair goes on living even after

  being cut off. It doesn't grow any more, of course, but i t goes on

  living and breathing. It's like people whose bodies have stopped

  growing - that doesn't mean they're dead, does it?'

  But I didn't dare touch it. I felt disgusted.

  'Where did you get it from?' I asked, and she told me she'd

  had a hairdresser friend who had died and left her the most

  beautiful tresses from girls who had got bored with their mermaid hairstyles. He had picked them up from the floor for Marta, wrapped them in paper and kept them in the drawers of his

  hairdressing tables, to give her later as a present. Sometimes he

  had taken orders for Marta from women who had lost their hair

  because of illness or old age, or from men. Baldness affects them

  more often, though maybe less pa
infully. Marta said that a growing hair gathers a person's thoughts. It accumulates them in the form of indistinct particles, so that if you should want to forget

  something, or make a change or a new start, you should cut off

  your hair and bury it in the ground.

  'What about a person who wears a wig made of someone

  else's hair?' I asked.

  'It takes courage ,' said Marta . 'They have to take on the

  thoughts of the person the hair came from. They have to be

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  ready for someone else's thoughts, and they must be strong and

  impervious by nature. And they have to be careful not to wear

  the wig all the time.'

  Marta once used to make a lot of wigs, five or six a year,

  almost always to a specific order. She starts by matching the

  hair of the person placing the order - both its texture and

  colour, because dyeing is out of the question. She places the

  skeins of hair so that they lie in the same direction, then soaks

  them in soapy water to clean them. Once they're dry she rolls

  them up on her fingers and casts them on to a hackle, a wooden

  base with metal prongs used for disentangling. During the

  combing, some individual shorter hairs fall out, and she is left

  with a clean, shiny skein, as even in length as freshly mown

  grass. Then she uses the drawing brush, which consists of two

  little boards and a brush and holds the hair in place while the

  wig-maker weaves it. Then Marta pulls from the hackle a very,

  very fine strand, a few hairs thick, like the sort that sometimes

  falls in your eyes, and which you impatiently Oick aside, and ties

  the strand on to the threads of a weaving frame. She demonstrated this to me. The hairs are attached with special knots, like macrame. Long strands have to be tied double or even treble.

  After that, Marta stretches these fringes out in her main room , so

  the hair won't get crumpled or broken. This is when the actual

  wig-making begins. Evenings are the perfect time for weaving

  threads of knotted hair into a fine piece of gauze . Mana does it

  with a crochet hook, exactly as if she were making a woolly cap.

  Her thin fingers with their pale nails work the threads nimbly

  through the tiny holes. She begins with a little circle that will

  eventually be at the very crown of the head, then adds more littlr

  holes, gathering them together so that a close-fitting, semicircular shape begins to emerge beneath her fingers. For specific orders you have to be very accurate, so Mana keeps an exercise