The Man Who Spoke Snakish

by Andrus Kivirähk

  “We saw from the tree how the wolf was attacking her,” Pirre said now. I hadn’t noticed him at first. The Primates were sitting in the shade of a tree; they had been walking on two legs again and were now massaging their cramp-stricken toes. “We came straight here and the louse ran ahead of us. He loved Hiie very much. Let him lie there beside her.”

  “Let him lie,” I repeated, and then I blacked out.

  Twenty-Eight

  was ill for several months. I simply had no desire to get well; it was so good to remain in feverish unconsciousness, without any thoughts, any memories. Dreams came and went, but if there was anything bad or alarming in them, it didn’t remain in my mind and quickly dissolved into new dreams. I liked to keep my eyes closed and the colorful apparitions, without name or clear form, swam around in my head in a kind of luminous haze, as if warning me not to wake. Even when I felt that someone—probably Mother—was spooning broth into my mouth, I didn’t want to return to the real world. My pharynx was working, but my brain remained hidden like a child, crouching in the forest in the shade of branches that reach the ground, hearing the call to come home but not coming, not letting itself get caught and pulled indoors. Being there in the forest under the branches was best, I sensed; indoors, only anxiety and oppression awaited me. I hovered in the middle of a nonexistent space, like a bird that has emerged on the other side of the clouds and is now suddenly separated from everything earthly.

  This game of hide-and-seek lasted a long time and I would gladly have made my illness permanent. But it couldn’t be helped: my body betrayed my hiding place, someone’s strong arms pulled me out from under the spruce branches, and although I kept my eyes tightly closed as before, as if hoping that would make me invisible, the world and its sounds and colors gradually began to encroach on me. From time to time I found myself staring at the ceiling; turning my head I saw Mother, tending the fire and boiling something in a pot. Sometimes I also saw Salme and her bear, sitting at the table and gnawing on venison bones with a crunch. I tried to swoon away again, to escape, but the fever had receded; it had slipped away from me like a warm animal skin, and without it I felt naked, cold, and terrible. For days on end I had to listen to Mother’s and Salme’s conversations, mostly revolving around Mõmmi’s activities, occasionally diverging to the state of my health, and floating me on a wave of upsetting sympathy. I tried to seek a way out of sleep, but that was a miserable substitute for the splendid state of unconsciousness that had protected and soothed me for several months. Ordinary sleep now seemed too brief to me; it was merely like a little puddle into which I could at best dip my head, whereas I longed for a deep lake of dark water, into which to dive, and stay.

  Morning arrived over and over again; Mother started clattering and preparing food. Soon Salme and Mõmmi would arrive too, and I knew that the moment was not far off when they would all gather by my bed, look at me tenderly with pity in their eyes, and ask, “Well, dear Leemet, how do you feel?” I didn’t answer them, not because I couldn’t, but because I feared the intoxicating joy that my first words after a long illness would excite in them. I feared that if they started clapping with excitement and congratulating me on my recovery I would resist, leap out of bed, and bite them; yes, I believed I was capable even of that. So I simply closed my eyes whenever they gathered to look at me again, drank the hot broth obediently, and listened to them sadly sighing. I felt Mother stroking my head. It annoyed me; I wanted them to move out of the shack and leave me in peace. At the same time the head stroking made me tearful, which irritated me even more; that was why I yearned to get back to my long sickness, where there were no tears, there was no anger, no pain, only silence and drowsing on the border between life and death.

  Finally I understood that I could no longer stand the constant chatter that surrounded me day in, day out. There was only one way out of this: I had to get to my feet. Then I could escape from the shack if I wished, spend a day somewhere in the forest, far from all the botherers, and return home only at night, if at all. I assumed that I was well enough by now; only the fear of the burst of joy that would follow my getting out of bed kept me back a couple more days, but then I took courage.

  One morning I pushed the animal skins aside with a rapid movement, sat up in bed, and said to Mother: “Mother, listen to me! I am well, but you mustn’t say anything to me, not a single word. I’m getting dressed, eating, and going out. I don’t want to hear a single shout; I don’t want to see a single tear. I want silence. Do you understand, Mother? Don’t say anything.”

  Mother nodded dumbly and looked at me with round eyes. She had covered her mouth with her hand and her eyes glistened, so that I understood: she could control her voice, but not her tears. This worried me; I wanted to get dressed as quickly as possible and escape from home at once. Getting dressed wasn’t easy at all. I was still very weak and clumsy—and driven wild by the knowledge that now Mother certainly was weeping. I didn’t look at her, just grabbed a bit of cold roast goat from the table and rushed out of the door.

  The sun dazzled me. I shaded my eyes with my hand and stumbled deep into the forest, into the shade of the trees. I was seeking a lonely spot where no one ever went, somewhere I could throw myself down and see out the day until the evening. I was very pleased that I still had the courage to get out of the house. I really couldn’t stand the discussions about whether Mõmmi had worms in his stomach or not, and if so how to get rid of them. Of course I did understand that life in the forest goes on, and that worms in the stomach are the most burning issue for some people and animals, but this chatter was driving me mad.

  It was not easy to find a lonely spot; everywhere there was some bird hopping or hare jumping, and this confused me. I kept moving forward, until I reached the edge of the forest. There I saw some village girls.

  Magdaleena was not among them I soon established. Actually I should have gone away, for the village girls were undoubtedly more befuddling than any titmouse or hare, and they weren’t appropriate for a man seeking solitude. But I stayed there, getting down on my stomach among the bushes, watching the girls.

  They had brought some sheep with them, and now were intending to let them stay and eat grass in the meadow at the forest’s edge.

  “But what happens if a wolf comes?” asked one girl.

  “There’s a medicine against that,” answered another. “Don’t you remember what Elder Johannes taught us? You have to take that belt that you wear to church and draw a line with it around the pasture. A wolf won’t be able to cross that sacred line, because Jesus won’t let it.”

  “Do you have a belt like that?” asked the first.

  “Of course, I always think before I leave home,” said the other girl, glibly. She undid a long colorful band from around her smock and began tracing an invisible ring through the meadow around the sheep. The first girl followed her friend’s action with reverence.

  “Next time I’ll bring my belt with me,” she promised. “Just think how simple it is to fight off wolves! Jesus can do everything.”

  “Yeah,” agreed the second girl, who had completed the protective circle and was now tying her belt back on. “This is the foreigners’ wisdom; life is much simpler if you know it.”

  They set off, carefree in the certain knowledge that the sheep were protected from all danger.

  Naturally a wolf was soon on the scene. Strangely, the sight of it did not excite any feelings in me, although it was the first wolf I’d encountered since that evening. I had no desire to kill it or pour out my wrath on it in any way. Actually there was no hatred in me, only indifference. What could this wolf do to me? Attack me? I wasn’t even sure that I could be bothered to defend myself.

  But the wolf didn’t come up to me; it was more interested in the sheep. Naturally it didn’t notice that the girl had waved a belt around; that strip of clothing probably hadn’t even left a scent. The wolf leapt on the neck of one sheep, brought the animal down, and dragged it off among the trees.

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nbsp; The sheep all bleated anxiously for a little while, then carried on eating the grass; then a second wolf came and carried off the next sheep. I didn’t care to look at this massacre any longer; there was no doubt that if the girls didn’t come back soon the wolves would polish them off. It might of course also happen that when the girls came back, they would also be eaten up, along with Jesus and the belt.

  I suddenly found this idea very unpleasant. I didn’t want to see that; I had to prevent it! Let the wolves gobble up the sheep; I didn’t care. But the idea of another girl between those creatures’ jaws made my head spin with rage. So I stayed on the spot and looked on while the last of the sheep were slaughtered.

  Some time passed before the girls came back. They didn’t come alone; with them were Elder Johannes and Magdaleena.

  I crouched down as low as I could. I had not seen Magdaleena since the time when I walked home that evening in love with her; that seemed to have been in another life. After that had come the escape with Hiie, meeting Grandfather, and everything else—but that world had now vanished, cut from under me like Grandfather’s legs.

  What had become of Grandfather, who had promised to fly in after us soon? Had something happened? Had he not been able to get the last essential bones?

  At the same time I was dreaming of Grandfather on his distant island and thinking of Magdaleena, who was standing right here, so close to me that if I had stood up she would have seen me immediately. She had grown a little plumper, but was still wonderfully beautiful, and I felt to my own amazement that I still loved her.

  I tried to ward off that feeling; it seemed obscene to me. I had come to the forest to seek solitude, to mourn in silence then melt into the moss like Meeme, for what could life be without Hiie, whom I had loved so much—but I caught one glimpse of Magdaleena and couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  All these feelings that had seized me by the monastery as we listened to the monks’ singing, the desire to touch her, to sit in her presence, smell her, came roaring back like an unexpected cloudburst.

  But—it also occurred to me—Grandfather did not lose his mind after he lost his legs; he started building wings. If things don’t go one way, you have to try another.

  That train of thought seemed repulsive to me. My only consolation was that I could nonetheless acknowledge it.

  And yet I yearned for Magdaleena. I liked her. In fact I was in love with her.

  How repellent it all was! How good it would be to smolder in a fever, without a single thought, without a single doubt!

  While I was at war with myself in the bushes, the girls and the village elder were dealing with the sheep. Or rather with their absence. The traces in the grass left no doubt that the sheep had fallen victim to wolves.

  “But I drew a sacred ring around them with my belt,” wept one girl. “It was supposed to help!”

  “It does help,” Johannes assured her. “But it protects only against ordinary wolves who are subject to God’s commands. In the case of a werewolf, a belt is no help; Satan helps it to jump over it.”

  “Did a werewolf come here then?” screamed the other girl, shrieking with terror.

  “There’s no other explanation for the sheep disappearing,” replied the village elder. “The church belt keeps all ordinary wild animals away; that wisdom has been known for centuries in Germany and in the holy city of Rome. Consequently it must have been a werewolf doing the mischief here.”

  “Can’t Jesus do anything about it?” sobbed the second girl.

  “Oh, he can!” said Johannes, consoling her. “But against a werewolf you need more effective weapons than a belt. I’ll have to consult with the holy monks and ask what they recommend doing. There must surely be some prayer or relic to ward off that servant of Satan.”

  “I’m afraid!” said the first girl. “Let’s go home!”

  “Yes,” agreed Johannes. “A shame about the sheep; we don’t have any more of them in the village. But God will help us in time!”

  They set off, and I stretched out to look at them leave, to see more of Magdaleena before she disappeared from view. But Magdaleena did not go to the village. She said something to her father, turned aside, and started going a different way. Then she slowed down her pace, looked around, as if wanting to make sure that her father and the other girls no longer saw her, and ran back to the edge of the forest. I thought she had lost something, but to my great surprise I heard Magdaleena quietly calling: “Leemet! Are you there? Leemet!”

  I got up and stepped out of the bushes.

  “Hello,” I said. “Did you see me?”

  “No, but I knew you must be somewhere nearby,” replied Magdaleena, coming up to me and putting her hands on my shoulders. She looked into my eyes and smiled slyly. I felt her scent and it made me weak in the knees. I pulled Magdaleena to my breast and kissed her.

  Magdaleena didn’t resist; I felt her licking my lips with her tongue.

  “You killed the sheep!” she whispered.

  I pushed her away in amazement. “What did you say?”

  “Your lips don’t have the taste of blood, but I know it was you,” giggled Magdaleena, as if anticipating a lot of fun. “You know how to change into a werewolf. Who else does?”

  “I told you, a human being can’t change into a wolf. That’s rubbish,” I explained. “They were quite ordinary wolves that ate up the sheep. I saw them myself.”

  It was clear that Magdaleena didn’t believe me.

  “I understand that you can’t tell me all your secrets,” she said. “In church, too, there’s plenty that I don’t understand, because the monks talk in Latin. Powerful spells have to be well hidden away. I don’t want you to teach me to change into a werewolf anymore. I don’t have time for that. But I want you to teach my child.”

  “Your child?” I repeated, astonished. “You have a child, Magdaleena?”

  “Not yet, but I soon will!” replied the girl. “Listen, I’ll tell you. I don’t want to keep it secret, and besides, it’s not something that can be hidden. It can’t be hidden; quite soon it will be clear to everyone how things are with me. I’m so happy! You know it happened that last evening when you and I saw each other. You went off to the forest and I walked back toward the village. Do you remember, just before that we’d seen a knight riding by so grandly on his stallion? Can you imagine? As I was trudging back to the village I met him again! This time he came right up to me. I bowed and greeted him in German. I don’t know much German, but enough to greet someone. The knight stopped his horse, looked at me, and asked me my name. I was so excited I could hardly reply. I’d never talked to a knight before. I told him my name and then the knight took me by the chin and looked at my face. He tousled my hair, felt my breasts, and then—can you believe it?—pulled me onto his horse’s back and carried me straight to his castle. How splendid everything was there! Pure silver drinking cups, a bed covered with expensive drapes … He slept with me! Leemet, you understand a foreign knight slept with me! He made a child inside me!”

  I looked at Magdaleena as she glowed with pleasure as if she were demented, but I have to admit that her story aroused me and I would gladly have liked to follow the knight’s example. In some way Magdaleena now seemed a lot more worldly. If a foreign iron man had been allowed to fondle her hair and breasts, then why not me too? The only thing that slightly disturbed me was the knowledge of the child hidden inside the girl; it was as if a third person was looking on, keeping a watchful eye on Magdaleena.

  “So do you live in the castle now?” I asked. “You’re this knight’s lover?”

  “No, what do you mean?” chuckled Magdaleena. “Of course he took me home the next morning. Why would he keep me at the castle? There are so many village girls that he can make happy. Although I hope he won’t. I haven’t heard of any other girl from our village getting into a knight’s castle. I’m the only one he chose. I’m the only one he gave a child to! You understand, Leemet. I’m giving birth to a jesus!”

 
“I don’t understand, no. Is this jesus of yours something like a sprite? God, or whatever you call him in your village.”

  “Yes, he’s a god, but the knights are God’s friends and pupils. To me they’re as good as Jesus himself. God has taught them all sorts of wisdom and made them strong and handsome. He can do that to us too, if we all listen to his word, but it takes time. The child I’m carrying in my womb will be like them from birth, because his father is one of the jesuses! His blood is flowing in my child! Jesus’s blood! What a privilege that is for me, what an honor! He’ll become a knight and I think he’ll start speaking German right from childhood like his father. Fortunately he’s sure to learn Estonian as well, because I’m his mother. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to talk properly to my own child. That would be sad!”

  Magdaleena shook her head and carried on talking.

  “My father is terribly glad too,” she said. “For him it’s enormously important for our family to get ahead as much as possible. He was born in the forest himself, but I’m a village girl, and my child will go out into the wide world and become a famous man. Maybe he’ll even go to the holy city of Rome and settle down there. Why not? He won’t be a peasant anymore, he’ll be a jesus, and jesuses rule the world right now.”

  “Congratulations from me too, then,” I mumbled. I was beginning to feel that I wouldn’t get to sleep with Magdaleena after all. What could a forest boy like me do for her, when she already had an actual jesus, a future ruler of the world, living in her tummy? Clearly it was the fashion these days to get your child from a knight, not from some stale Snakish-talking man. Again I felt that my insides stank of decay; the stink was so strong that it was downright incomprehensible that Magdaleena couldn’t smell it.

  “Thank you, Leemet,” said Magdaleena. “But now I want to ask you a favor. I want you to be my husband.”

  This was so unexpected that I simply stared at Magdaleena. “Why me?” I finally managed to utter.