Elisabeth Kostova - The Historian

“‘This was my situation in life when I met Professor Rossi. It was unusual for strangers to come to our village, especially anyone from far away, but one day everyone was passing around the news that a man from Bucharest had come to the tavern, and with him a man from another country. They were asking questions about the villages along the river and about the ruined castle in the mountains upriver, a day’s walk above our village. The neighbor who stopped by to tell us about this also whispered something to my father as he sat on his bench outside our door. My father crossed himself and spat in the dust. ”Rubbish and nonsense,“ he said. ”No one should be asking such questions. It is an invitation to the Devil.“

“‘But I was curious. I went out to get water so that I could hear more about it, and when I entered the village square, I saw the strangers sitting at one of the two tables outside our tavern, talking with an old man who was always there. One of the strangers was large and dark, like a Gypsy but in city clothes. The other wore a brown jacket in a style I had never seen before, and wide trousers tucked into walking boots, and a broad brown hat on his head. I stayed on the other side of the square, near the well, and from there I could not see the foreigner’s face. Two of my friends wanted a closer look and whispered to me to come with them. I went reluctantly, knowing my father would disapprove.

“‘As we walked past the tavern, the foreign man glanced up, and I saw to my surprise that he was young and handsome, with a golden beard and bright blue eyes like the people in the German villages of our country. He was smoking a pipe and talking quietly with his companion. A worn canvas bag with straps for the arms sat on the ground next to him, and he was writing something in a cardboard book. He had a look on his face that I liked immediately-it was absentminded, gentle, and very alert all at the same time. He touched his hat to us and looked quickly away, and the ugly man touched his hat, too, and stared at us, and then they went back to talking with old Ivan and writing things down. The large man seemed to be talking to Ivan in Romanian, and then he would turn to the younger one and say something in a language I could not understand. I walked quickly on with my friends, not wanting the handsome stranger to think I was more forward than they were.

“‘The next morning it was said in the village that the strangers had given money to a young man in the tavern to show them the way up to the ruined castle called Poenari, high above the Arges. They would be gone overnight. I heard my father tell one of his friends that they were looking for the castle of Prince Vlad -he remembered when the fool with the Gypsy’s face had been there once before, looking for it. ”A fool never learns,“ my father said angrily. I had not heard this name-Prince Vlad-before. People in our village usually called the castle Poenari or Arefu. My father said the man who had taken the strangers there was crazed for a little money. He swore no payment would ever make him, my father, spend the night there because the ruins were full of evil spirits. He said that probably the stranger was looking for treasure, which was foolish because all the treasure of the prince who had lived there was deeply buried and had a wicked spell on it. My father said if anyone found it, and if it were exorcised, he should have had some of it himself, some of it belonged by rights to him. Then he saw me and my sisters listening, and he closed his mouth tightly.

“‘What my father had said reminded me of the little coin the old woman had given me, and I thought guiltily that I had something I should have given to my father. But a rebellion rose up inside me, and I decided to try to give my coin to the handsome stranger, since he was looking for treasure at the castle. When I had the chance, I took the coin from its hiding place and knotted it in the corner of a kerchief, which I tied to my apron.

“‘The stranger did not appear again for two days, and then I saw him sitting by himself at the same table, looking very tired, his clothes dirty and torn. My friends said that the city Gypsy had left that day and the stranger was alone. No one knew why he wanted to stay longer. He had taken the hat off his head and I could see his rumpled light brown hair. Some other men were with him, and they were having a drink. I did not dare come close or speak to the stranger because those men were with him, so I stopped to talk with a friend for a while. While we were talking, the stranger got up and went into the tavern.

“‘I felt very sad and I thought it would be impossible for me to give my coin to him. But luck was with me that evening. Just as I was leaving my father’s field, where I had stayed to work while my brothers and sisters were doing other chores, I saw the stranger walking by himself at the edge of the woods. He was walking along the path to the river, walking with his head bent and his hands clasped behind him. He was completely alone, and now that I had the chance to speak with him, I felt frightened. To give myself courage, I grasped the knot in my kerchief where the coin was hidden. I walked toward him and then stood in the path, waiting for his approach.

“‘It seemed to take a long time, while I stood there waiting. He must not have noticed me until we were almost face-to-face. Then he suddenly glanced up from the path, looking very surprised. He took off his hat and stepped aside, as if to let me pass him, but I stayed very still, gathering my courage, and said hello to him. He bowed a little and smiled, and we stood staring at each other for a moment. There was nothing in his face or manner to make me feel afraid, but I was almost overcome by shyness.

“‘Before I could lose all my courage, I untied the kerchief from my belt and unwrapped the coin. I handed it to him, silently, and he took it from my hand and turned it over, looking at it with care. Suddenly a light flashed over his face, and he glanced at me again, very sharply, as if he could look through my heart. He had the brightest, bluest eyes you can imagine. I felt a trembling all over. ”De unde?-from where?“ He gestured to show me his question. I was surprised that he seemed to know a few words of our language. He tapped the ground, and I understood. Had I gotten it out of the earth? I shook my head.”De unde?“

“‘I tried to show him an old woman, kerchief on her head, bending over her stick-I showed her handing me the coin. He nodded, frowned. He made the signs of the old woman, then pointed along the path toward our village. ”From there?“ No-I shook my head again and pointed upriver and into the sky, to where I thought the castle was, and the old woman’s village. I pointed to him and showed feet walking-up there! The light came into his face again, and he closed his hand on the coin. Then he handed it back to me, but I refused it, pointing to him and feeling myself turn red. He smiled, for the first time, and bowed to me, and I felt as if heaven had opened up to my eyes for a moment.”Multumesc,“ he said. ”Thank you.“

“‘Then I wanted to hurry away, before my father missed me at the supper table, but the stranger stopped me with a quick motion. He pointed to himself.”Ma numesc Bartolomeo Rossi,“ he said. He repeated it, then wrote it for me in the earth at our feet. It made me laugh to try to pronounce it after him. Then he pointed at me.”Voi?“ he said. ”What is your name?“ I told him and he repeated it, smiling again.”Familia?“ He seemed to be groping for words.

“‘”My family name is Getzi,“ I told him.

“‘Surprise seemed to fill his face. He pointed in the direction of the river, then at me, and said something again and again, followed by the wordDrakulya, which I understood to meanof the dragon. I could not gather his meaning. Finally, shaking his head and sighing, he said, ”Tomorrow.“ He pointed at me, at himself, at the spot where we stood, and at the sun in the sky. I understood that he was asking me to meet him there at the same time the next evening. I knew my father would be very angry if he found out about this. I pointed to the ground under our feet, then put my finger to my lips. I didn’t know another way to tell him not to talk about this to anyone in the village. He looked startled, but then he put his finger to his lips, too, and smiled at me. I had still felt somewhat afraid of him until that minute, but his smile was kind and his blue eyes sparkled. He tried again to return the coin to me, and when I again refused to take it, he bowed, put on his hat, and went back into the woods in the direction he had come from. I understood that he was letting me return to the village alone, and I set out quickly, without letting myself look back at him.