ղľáԾ
Translated by Heather Trebatická
Suddenly I’m aherdsman of cows, sheep and goats. My brain can’t grasp and decipher what is going on down there in the village. People assembled with their overflowing rucksacks, suitcases and bundles. Troops, hustle and bustle, weeping and spread-winged eagles. Blank faces, pleading, men and women on their knees, clasped hands, wailing children, startled animals, shots fired in the air. Irun into the shepherd’s hut and hide in the tangled pile of birch twigs and branches in which Iwanted to wait until all these strange things had passed. Someone discovers Iam not among the rest and sends asoldier to get me to join the others. Icould have fled much, much further into the depths of the forest, crawled into an animal’s den under arock or climbed atree and tied myself to it. Become part of its crown, catching open-mouthed the rain and snow, the light of the moon and sun, other stars and planets, meteors and comets, swallowing mist and clouds, gradually merging with the flowing resin, and lived there safely for the rest of my life. And then gone up unharmed to heaven. But perhaps Ibelieve that this peer of mine will bring me deliverance with an incomprehensible beginning, but possibly acalm continuation. Which is why Idon’t resist and in answer to his scared, squeaky calling Icome out of the forest and walk up to him. Perhaps Iexpect ashaking of hands, perhaps an explanation. Istand right in front of him and say nothing. Nothing. For amoment we are silent. His frightened, trembling hands suddenly lift his rifle. I’m taken unawares and that prevents me from assessing the situation, in which acouple of seconds later the butt lands on my right temple. Ifall, Ifaint, but amoment later Icome to with my hands tied behind my back. Ihave to get up and walk along the dusty path. In his high-pitched voice the soldier begins to curse me, calling me abandit and murderer. Ican’t make sense of it, Idon’t understand. Iwalk on, still hoping that when we get to the village everything will be explained. Then abig black horse comes into sight with amiddle-aged soldier in the saddle. He shouts something and only now do my knees begin to give way under me, butstill I manage to stumble on. Ihope this soldier has come to rescue me. That he has come to explain it all to this confused young man and Iwill be free again, just as Ihad been all my life until afew minutes ago. But acouple of metres before we reach him comes another blow. The rifle butt again. This time Idon’t regain consciousness. The older soldier throws arope down on me. The younger one understands immediately. His previous external and internal trembling does not change. All that disappears is its original cause. Asecond later he realises what he is going to do. All of asudden he must shit. My death is accompanied by the murderer’s brief runny shitting in the ferns. Then he vomits. The firm tightening of the rope just above my ankles will deny my legs their mortal convulsions. They should follow in aminute. The horse is whipped into amad gallop. Flying stretched out, my body leaps behind it. It wafts. Wafts in the heat of the passing day. It’s like that transparent plastic sack, once filled with ammonium saltpetre, but now with hay. It is tied to our dog’s collar by astring and he runs after me up asnow-covered hill. Then Isit on it and ride down the icy slope in what was once Weinberger’s orchard and then repeat it over and over again. Now, though, my body is flying after the horse and my face, head, the whole of my body leave their last visible traces on this earth. Just alast red line. And Iam already dead. At last. Right now. Now. It has happened this very moment. My earthly existence has finally ended. Ihave often thought about it. How will it all happen? What will Ibe aware of at that particular moment? Astrange moment of adefinitive end;.a horse running on and on. We stop just before we get to the village and the horse breathes in my death through widened nostrils. Amoment later the young soldier catches up with us. He looks down at my body for afew seconds more. He considers apointless, breathless, shaky shot out of mercy. Nothing. He does nothing. He walks away. From the surrounding meadows aherd of grazing animals now come running up to my body. Dozens of bodies jostling each other and forming athick matted ball of animals. They are mostly lambs, their fathers and mothers, which together with other beasts set up aconstant bleating. Athunderous parting with the soul of aherdsman reverberates across the land for hours on end. Which is why someone will soon decide to rename deserted Rychwald “Owczary”.[1]
