The Man Who Spoke Snakish (24 page)

“Do we take them with us like that, on the end of a rope?” I asked.

“No, not like that,” replied Möigas. “A wind is smart and cunning, like a living creature. As long as he’s in my hand, he
keeps still, because he recognizes that I’m a wind-sage and I’m not going to play tricks with him. But if he understands that some ordinary person is holding the end of the rope, he’ll start to struggle and push, and try to tear himself from the rope end. No, I’ll put them in a bag, so they won’t get out and you can get back nicely to Grandfather’s place.”

From under a table the sage took out a pouch, sewn together from several skins, the mouth of which was pulled shut with a rope. He took hold of the first wind and carefully undid the knots that held it in a bunch. Suddenly the air in the room started to move, and Hiie’s hair started fluttering, as if a sudden gust had tangled it. Then Möigas pushed the wind into the bag. He did the same with all the other bundles of ropes, and by the end the pouch was quite fat. If you pressed your ear to it, you could hear a muffled whooshing and roaring, as if a storm were raging inside.

“Now it’s ready,” said Möigas. “Now there’s nothing more to do than to carefully open the mouth of the bag and let out just enough wind as you need. Your grandfather will know what to do. Yes, he’s one fine man, and he raised his children to be sensible. See, I couldn’t do that with my son; he went bad, so it’s terrible to look at him. Oh, spare me! He’s singing again! I told him that if he isn’t quiet, I’ll box his ears.” A wail could indeed be heard from the yard. Mixed with the monk’s high-pitched singing someone swearing could be heard. We rushed outdoors and saw the monk arguing with a short but horribly fat old man, who was brandishing a stick furiously and yelling, “Will this whining stop for once? I can’t get peace; you’re always opening your jaws and howling like a wolf! What’s wrong with you, Röks? Are you in pain or something?”

“Dear old neighbor,” replied the monk, piously rubbing his hands slowly together, as if washing them with sunshine. “You could be a bit more agreeable. This kind of music is what the young people appreciate these days. You’re old; you have your own favorite tunes. But you should understand that times move on, and what you don’t like might provide happiness for a new generation, who take their example from Christ.”

“It was Christ that taught you to sing like that, was it?” shrieked the stocky neighbor.

“Of course,” replied the monk. “He is my idol, and the idol of all young people. These songs are sung by the angels in paradise; they’re sung by the cardinals in the holy city of Rome. Why shouldn’t we sing them too, as the whole Christian world does?”

“My backyard isn’t the Christian world!” interjected Möigas now. “I’m sorry, Hörbu, that you were disturbed. You must have been having your noontide nap.”

“Well, of course I was having my noontide nap!” complained Hörbu the neighbor. “And just when the sleep was sweetest, your useless son started whining. Why do you let him come here at all? Let him sit in his monastery if that’s what he’s chosen.”

“He’s my own flesh and blood,” sighed Möigas.

“So what if he’s your son! I told my daughter: ‘If you ever become a nun, you slut, don’t ever show your face in my house again!’ The whore!”

“You didn’t have to bless your daughter with such ugly words, dear neighbor,” countered the monk. “Johanna is a very exemplary nun. I meet her often. Why should she have stayed in this wild place? There’s no better way for a modern girl of today to get into the wide world than by becoming a bride of Christ!”

“She should’ve got married!” shouted Hörbu. “There are fifty of those brides of Christ there in the nunnery. It’s a disgusting obscenity, and it’s putting everything upside down!”

“You’ve misunderstood everything,” sighed the monk sympathetically. “Pious nuns live out their days in deep virtue and have nothing to do with men.”

“You go there yourself! You said yourself that you meet her often!”

“I’m a monk. Oh, neighbor, you don’t understand anything about young people today.”

“I don’t understand, and I don’t want to,” declared Möigas. “And don’t speak in the name of all young people! Leemet is young too, and he isn’t involved in that kind of filth.”

“He’s from the forest, completely uneducated,” replied the monk, with scorn in his voice. “It’s a shame, Daddy, that for you there is more value in spiritual darkness and clinging to past times than in ambition and the desire to learn.”

“If you’re so keen on learning, why didn’t you want to learn to catch the winds?” asked Möigas sadly. “This ancient art will now go to the grave with me. You would’ve had an honorable profession, one which would always keep you fed.”

“On the contrary, Daddy, there’s no future in that profession. You don’t need to catch the winds; it’s enough to humbly turn to God in prayer and he will roll the winds toward you where you need it; he quietens the storm and calms the tempest.”

“Sadly it’s not so simple,” sighed Möigas. “But you believe only in what you’re told in the monastery, not what your own old father says.”

“Forgive me, Daddy, but there in the monastery they read books printed in Latin. When the wise men in foreign lands
wrote them, our ancestors were still running around the forest with the foxes,” said the monk with a smile, as if feeling pleasure that he had raised up such great wisdom from such harsh circumstances. He shook his head in a saintly way, looked at us all in turn, and rose with a sigh.

“I shall pray for you, poor heathens, and especially for you, dear father,” he stated. Then he looked once more at Hiie and me and added, “If you start to take an interest in Jesus Christ, then you know where to find me. Sharp young men are always welcomed with open arms to our monastery.”

I didn’t reply. The monk nodded again, made the sign of the cross in the air, and left.

Hörbu spat on the ground.

“Forgive me, Möigas, but that son of yours is as mad as a polecat.”

“Yes,” sighed Möigas bitterly. “In his younger days he was such a sweet little boy. These new winds, they’re changing people.”

“My daughter was such a strong little grasshopper,” said Hörbu. “But then she started hanging around that monastery. I forbade her. I even gave her a hiding, but she kept on going where she wasn’t allowed. What was driving her there? Why did she become a nun? Perhaps we really are old and we don’t understand a thing about the new world?”

In my nose I smelt again the carrion stench that assaulted me from time to time. I would have liked to open the windbag and let out all Möigas’s storms and tempests, to scare away the rotting odor, let myself be cleaned by the airs. But these winds were intended for Grandfather. So we said farewell to Möigas and Hörbu and sat down in the boat.

On the way to Grandfather’s island we saw one of the iron men’s ships passing on the horizon.

“Ahteneumion rose to the surface a bit too early,” said Hiie. “Now he would have seen the iron men, and the iron men would have seen him. But now they’re sailing there and they don’t even know what’s lying on the sea bottom under his own beard. Only we know. Isn’t that exciting?”

At that moment it seemed to me that we knew perhaps too much that others didn’t know, and on the other hand too little that was known to everyone else, but I said nothing to Hiie.

fter we got back to Grandfather’s island, the first thing we noticed was a strange boat drawn up on the shore, which Hiie thought she recognized. She shrank from the sight of it, clinging to my sleeve and, without saying a word, beckoned me back toward the sea.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Let’s go away, back to Saaremaa. It doesn’t matter where; let’s just go,” whispered Hiie, looking at me with troubled eyes. “Please, let’s go, quickly!”

“Whose boat is that?” I inquired, guessing the answer already.

“Father’s, of course,” whimpered Hiie in a tiny voice. “Don’t you recognize it? He’s come after us, he’s chasing us, he still wants to kill me, he’s mad! Leemet, let’s go! Let’s row far from here, as far as you possibly can! Please!”

I have to admit that the knowledge that Tambet was somewhere here filled me with dread. This crazed old man couldn’t rest with having failed to save the world. An obsession, once taken into the head, grows in it like a horn. I wasn’t at all sure
how well I could defend Hiie if her father were to suddenly leap out of the bushes and wanted to carry her off. Tambet was a big strong man; compared to him I was like a young rowan beside an oak. I tried to awaken in myself the rage and courage that had sustained me that evening when I stole Hiie from the sacrificial grove, but the flame inherited from my ancestors this time didn’t want to catch fire. I was also overtaken by dread when I looked into the forest and on the shoreline and tried to guess whether Tambet was lurking in it now and whether he’d already noticed us. I began to feel that Hiie’s plea to get into the boat and row to some safe place wasn’t such a bad idea. Hiie was already in the boat, weeping and shouting, “Come on! What are you waiting for? We’ve got to go before he sees us. You won’t get away from him on the sea he rows so fast! I know.”

I had just about agreed to do as she wanted. Only Möigas’s windbag held me back. I had to take it to Grandfather! There was a chance that if we left now, hid somewhere for a couple of days and quietly rowed here to the island, Tambet might have left, the coast would be clear, and I could calmly hand over the windbag to Grandfather. But it was shameful to run away like this, to admit our own weakness and fear, while my grandfather had fangs in his mouth and was preparing for an air war with the whole world. When I started thinking about Grandfather, one thought occurred to me: with him I could perhaps even overcome Tambet. After all, Grandfather had built himself a real fortress, to withstand a siege. If we could get there without Tambet noticing us, we would be in quite a secure place. And yet—would it not be better to row back to sea in fright, as Hiie had suggested? Or was it wiser to stay on the island and fight Tambet with Grandfather, to tell him that
Hiie was now my bride, and that there could be no talk of a sacrifice? Let him go back to his forest; we would stay here on the island. We wouldn’t argue with him; we would just wish him to leave us in peace.

“Why don’t you come?” asked Hiie from the boat. She must have wept and cried herself out by now, for now she was sitting very quietly and looking at me with sad eyes. The first wave of terror had passed, Tambet had not appeared yet, and Hiie wearily awaited developments.

“We’re not leaving,” I said. “We’ll look for Grandfather. I have to give him the windbag, and then we’ll ask him to talk to your father himself.”

“Father won’t listen to anyone,” said Hiie.

“Well, my grandfather will force him to listen,” I said boldly, trying to encourage Hiie. I took the girl by the hand and dragged her up.

“Come on now. The most important thing is to get to Grandfather’s house. Once we’re there, your father can’t do anything more.”

Hiie didn’t protest, but only sighed, kissed me unexpectedly and very hard, and stood up next to me.

We sneaked through the bushes, and every time a branch cracked or leaves rustled, we had the feeling that Tambet was just behind us, ready to grab us by the elbows and drag us to his boat like a couple of hares. However, that didn’t happen. We didn’t encounter Hiie’s father and perspiring with fear we made it to Grandfather’s house.

Grandfather was sprawled in the middle of the grass and was boiling something in a big pot.

“Grandfather!” I cried, rushing up to the fire. “We’re back!”

“I know,” said Grandfather. “I heard you sneaking through the forest. Did you get the windbag?”

“We did,” I replied, handing Möigas’s bag to Grandfather. “But—”

“Aha!” interrupted Grandfather with a triumphant roar. “The windbag! At last! Now just a few more bones to collect and a suitable spot to find, then look out, iron men and monkish rubbish! I’ll be flying on top of you, as if the moon had fallen from the sky, to flatten you to a pulp!”

“Grandfather, my father is here on the island,” said Hiie. “Remember, we said he was chasing us? Now he’s come here.”

“Yes, he did have that misfortune,” replied Grandfather, fishing from the pot a huge skull. “This will make the biggest drinking bowl I’ve ever had,” he added proudly. “I would otherwise give this bowl to you, girl, since it’s your father’s head, but what would a woman do with such a big beaker? A woman can’t drink that much at once.”

We were dumbstruck. Tambet, whom we had feared so much and from whom we were almost ready to flee back to Saaremaa, was boiling here in a big pot, chopped to pieces like a goat. His skull really was enormous and thick; no wonder that new ideas had such trouble getting into it, and that every idea that did finally enter that hard shell stayed forever like a bird caught in a trap.

I looked at Hiie, because I wanted to see her expression when shown the skull of her father in the flesh, which was almost ready to be a splendid drinking bowl. She eyed the skull, bit her lip, and finally covered her face between her knees.

“Are you crying?” I asked quietly.

“No,” replied Hiie without raising her head. “Why should I? He wanted to kill me; he was mad. I simply feel exhausted.
The fear has worn me out. I was so horribly afraid when I saw Father’s boat I thought that, that now I’d be taken back home, and even if I wasn’t sacrificed to the sprites, everything would be just as before, so cruel, so sad, so bleak. But now I know that nothing will ever be the same again. He no longer exists; he’s been turned into a beaker. I’m now so peaceful that I feel sleepy. You won’t be offended if I go off and sleep for a while?”

“Why would we be against that, dear child?” replied Grandfather. “Go and have a doze as much as you like! We’ll be getting you up by suppertime.”

Hiie got up, smiled at us, and disappeared into Grandfather’s cave. Grandfather accompanied her with a friendly look, while stirring her father’s remains with a big ladle.

“She’s a good girl,” he said. “Doesn’t make a quarrel about nothing. I really needed a lot of bones; I just couldn’t let that thickset bloke walk away. Anyway I recognized him and I knew straight away that he was on your tail, so it made sense to strike him right down. I didn’t attack him without warning, though, because after all he was a human being, not some shitty iron man who’s worth nothing more than an insect. I hissed at him: “Careful! I’m going to bite you!” so he’d have a chance to defend himself. But he didn’t take any notice, as if he hadn’t understood; he just kept on wading forward through the hay, with a grim expression on his face. Well, there was nothing to do about it. I crawled on his heels and when there was a suitable moment, I bit him through the left knee. When he fell down screaming, I bit into his throat, and the thing was done. I flayed him, cleaned the meat off the skeleton, and got rid of most of the offal, and now I’m boiling the bones so they’ll be white and clattering when you strike them together. By the way, Hiie’s father had splendid
shinbones; I’ve been looking for ones like these for ages, but you don’t get ones like them from iron men. Their legs are curved, because they sit on horseback all the time.”

Grandfather turned Tambet’s head bone around in his hand. “But best of all is this skull,” he said. “I don’t get tired of admiring it. This will be my victory mug; from this I’ll start drinking the blood of my slain enemies in war. To ancient freedom!”

Tambet could not have wanted a better fate for his bones, I thought, smirking bitterly. His bones would bring wings to carry my warlike grandfather to the land of the iron men, while his huge skull would be used as a victory chalice. In his blindness Tambet wanted to sacrifice Hiie to the sprites, but it was he that was sacrificed. His strong skeleton could now carry the last army of the Estonians into battle. True, it consisted of only one old man with fangs, but it was still better than nothing.

Tambet had always hoped that one day people would live in the forest in the ancient way again, and now he had happened on an island where undoubtedly the most ancient living Estonian was crawling around. Tambet should have been happy here, but it turned out that he too had become too modern. He had forgotten Snakish! Or he simply didn’t care about it, regarding Grandfather’s warning as just an annoying hiss, and believing, no doubt under Ülgas’s influence, that his fate was directed by the sprites, not the adders. Tambet did not get a foothold in his primeval world; he didn’t understand its language: that is why he was killed and boiled and had his skull made into a drinking bowl.

“Come, I’ll show you my wings,” said Grandfather and wriggled behind the bushes. I followed him and saw two big white lattices, carefully put together out of larger and smaller sets of
bones. They were like two bushes in hoarfrost—dense, yet so thin that you could look through them. Building wings like these was undoubtedly complicated work; Grandfather had not been lazy all these years. To me these wings seemed perfect, but Grandfather assured me that some important bones were still missing.

“Here and here and of course here,” he declared, pointing with a finger. “Everything has to be precise; otherwise I’ll fall from the sky like a dead crow. I don’t need many more bones, but a couple of iron men will come in handy, to be on the safe side. Just let them come soon!”

He stroked his handiwork tenderly.

“And once I’ve risen into the sky,” he said, “then I’ll make up for all those years I’ve spent squatting like a badger stuck in its burrow.”

His head turned up to the moon, which had risen in the sky, and he cackled from the base of his throat, which sent cold shivers up my spine.

“I’m going to bed,” I said to Grandfather, but at that moment he wasn’t listening to me.

“There you are,” said Hiie, when I crawled into Grandfather’s cave.

“You’re not asleep?” I asked, throwing myself down beside her.

“No, I’ve woken up already,” replied Hiie. “What are we going to do? Are we going home? Now we can.”

I hadn’t even thought about that, but when Hiie put it that way, I understood that indeed we could go home now! Grandfather had solved all our problems with a couple of bites. How simple it actually was! How ridiculous our plans now seemed—to convince Tambet to leave us in peace, and agree that we would
move somewhere far away and never disturb one another again. How stupid! It was only necessary to get rid of Hiie’s father and everything was all right.

Grandfather was aware of this, and that is how he ruled over the whole island and was seething with vitality even in old age. He really was the root in which flowed all the juices that give a tree its strength. We were the crown, only rustling at a whisper while Grandfather roared. Maybe in the final analysis there was no more use in this roaring than in our modest rustling, but at least his roar resounded over the forests and hills, giving gooseflesh to the skin. His roar contained life and rage; it was haughty and heedless of all consequences. Grandfather had the force and fire of the Frog of the North; in us it had extinguished. But perhaps it could be rekindled?

Lying next to Hiie in Grandfather’s cave, I started to feel a force bubbling inside me, the force that had filled me the night I saved Hiie from Ülgas’s knife. I’d go back to the forest with Hiie, set up home there, and live as I want to, a man who knows Snakish and is capable of chopping someone to pieces, with the wolves, all the iron men, monks, and villagers. For the first time I truly understood this power given to me by the Snakish words in a world where all other humans have forgotten them. I could send the snakes to bite them and could still save them even after death by asking the snakes to suck the poison out. I could do anything I liked, just as my grandfather did what pleased him. True, I didn’t have fangs, but I could grow them.

Of course I would love to go back to the forest! I hugged Hiie, laughed in her ear, and whispered, “Let’s go home tomorrow and you’ll be my wife!”

Hiie pressed her nose against my chin.

“That’s wonderful!” she said. “The only thing that worries me is Ülgas. He’s still in the forest and he might still want to sacrifice me. Of course now that Father isn’t …”

“And soon Ülgas won’t be a problem either,” I declared. “If he dares to show me his face, I’ll knock his head off, boil his corpse, and send the bones to Grandfather. Ülgas is very old and rotten, but perhaps there’s still a healthy bone left in him that can be used. We won’t be making a drinking cup from his head, because it’s certainly decayed with stupidity, everything would just drip through.”