Arkady Strugatsky - Hard to Be a God

The guardsmen by the table greeted Rumata with cheerful shouts. Rumata gave them a friendly wink and started making the rounds of the guests. He bowed to the old dandies, paid a few compliments to the confidantes, who immediately started staring at the white feather behind his ear, patted the royal’s fat back, and headed toward Don Ripat and Don Tameo. As he walked by the window recess, the duenna swayed again, reeking of wine.

When he saw Rumata, Don Ripat took his hands out of his belt and clicked his heels, while Don Tameo cried softly, “Is that you, my friend? I’m so glad you came, I had already lost hope. ‘Like a broken-winged swan calls wistfully to a star…’ I was so lonely. If not for our dearest Don Ripat, I would have died of misery!” It was clear that Don Tameo had almost sobered up for dinner but still hadn’t been able to stop.

“Is that how it is?” Rumata said with surprise. “We’re quoting the rebel Zuren?”

Don Ripat immediately drew himself up and gave Don Tameo a predatory look.

“Er…” Don Tameo said, flustered. “Zuren? Is that so? Well, yes, I meant it in an ironic sense, I assure you, noble dons! After all, what is Zuren? A low, ungrateful demagogue. And I just wanted to emphasize—”

“That Doña Ocana isn’t here,” continued Rumata, “and that you’ve been lonely without her.”

“That’s just what I wanted to emphasize.”

“By the way, where is she?”

“She should be here any minute,” Don Ripat said with a bow, and walked away.

The confidantes, mouths identically agape, kept staring at the white feather. The elderly dandies snickered coyly. Don Tameo finally also noticed the feather and began to tremble. “My friend!” he whispered. “Why are you doing this? You never know when Don Reba might come by. True, he’s not expected today, but still…”

“Let’s not talk about it,” said Rumata, impatiently looking around. He wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. The guardsmen were already approaching with cups.

“You’re so pale,” whispered Don Tameo. “I do understand, love, passion… but, Holy Míca! The state is above… and finally, it’s dangerous… to offend his feelings…”

Something changed in his face, and he began to retreat, depart, move back, bowing the entire time. Rumata was surrounded by guardsmen. Someone offered him a full cup.

“For honor and for the king!” a guardsman declared.

“And for love,” another one added.

“Show them what the guardsmen are made of, noble Rumata,” said a third.

Rumata took the cup and suddenly saw Doña Ocana. She was standing in the doorway, fanning herself and sensuously swaying her shoulders. Yes, she certainly was good-looking! At this distance, she was even beautiful. She wasn’t at all to Rumata’s taste, but she was doubtlessly good-looking, the silly, lascivious bird. Huge blue eyes without a shadow of thought or warmth, a soft and extremely experienced mouth, a gorgeous, skillfully and carefully exposed body. The guardsman behind Rumata’s back apparently couldn’t control himself and smacked his lips rather loudly. Rumata shoved the cup toward him without looking and took long strides toward Doña Ocana. Everyone in the room looked away from them and started assiduously talking nonsense.

“You’re stunning,” Rumata muttered, bowing deeply, his swords clanging. “Let me lie at your feet… like a greyhound lies at the feet of a nude and indifferent beauty…”

Doña Ocana covered herself with the fan and slyly narrowed her eyes. “You’re very brave, noble don,” she said. “We poor provincial women cannot hope to withstand such an assault.” She had a low, husky voice. “Alas, all that remains for me is to open the castle gates and let the victor in.”

Rumata, gritting his teeth from shame and rage, bowed even deeper.

Doña Ocana lowered her fan and yelled out, “Noble dons, enjoy yourselves! Don Rumata and I will be back soon! I promised to show him my new Irukanian rugs.”

“Don’t leave us long, enchantress!” bleated one of the old men.

“Seductress!” another old man said in a honeyed voice. “Nymph!”

The guards clattered their swords in unison. “His taste isn’t bad,” the royal said, too audibly. Doña Ocana grabbed Rumata by the sleeve and dragged him along. When he was already in the hallway, Rumata heard Don Sera declare in an injured tone, “I see no reason why a noble don shouldn’t look at some Irukanian rugs.”

At the end of the hallway, Doña Ocana came to a sudden halt, threw her arms around Rumata’s neck, and with a throaty moan that was supposed to indicate a burst of passion, pressed her mouth hard against his. Rumata stopped breathing. The unwashed nymph reeked of body odor mixed with Estorian perfume. Her lips were hot, wet, and sticky from sweets. Making an effort, he attempted to return the kiss—and apparently succeeded, because Doña Ocana moaned again and fell into his arms with her eyes closed. This lasted an eternity. I’ll show you, whore, thought Rumata and squeezed her in his arms. Something cracked, either her corset or her ribs, the beauty gave a plaintive squeak, opened her eyes in astonishment, and thrashed around, trying to get free. Rumata hurriedly let her go.

“Naughty boy,” she said with delight, breathing heavily. “You almost broke me.”

“I’m burning with love,” he mumbled guiltily.

“Me too. How I’ve waited for you! Let’s go faster.”

She dragged him behind her through some cold, dark rooms. Rumata took out a handkerchief and furtively wiped his mouth. The plan now seemed completely hopeless. I should do it, he thought. But there are all sorts of things I should do! I won’t get off with just talk. Holy Míca, why do they never bathe in the palace? What a temperament. If only Don Reba would come by. She dragged him along silently and persistently, like an ant dragging a dead caterpillar. Feeling like a complete idiot, Rumata went on with some gallant nonsense about fast feet and red lips. Doña Ocana just giggled. She pushed him inside an overheated boudoir—which really was hung with rugs—flung herself onto the huge bed and, sprawling on the pillows, began looking at him with moist, protuberant eyes. Rumata stood stock-still. The boudoir smelled distinctly of bedbugs.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered. “Come to me. I’ve waited so long!”

Rumata closed his eyes; he felt sick. Beads of sweat started to roll down his face with a repulsive tickle. I can’t do it, he thought. Damn the information. A she-fox… a monkey… It’s just unnatural, it’s dirty. Dirt is better than blood, but this is much worse than dirt!

“T-To hell with this,” Rumata said hoarsely.

She jumped up and ran over to him. “What is it? Are you drunk?”

“I don’t know,” he managed to force out. “It’s stuffy.”

“Should I order a basin?”

“Basin?”

“Never mind, never mind… It’ll pass.” Her fingers shaking with impatience, she began to unbutton his waistcoat. “You’re beautiful,” she mumbled breathlessly. “But you’re as timid as a virgin. I would have never guessed. It’s adorable, I swear by Holy Bara!”

He was forced to grab her hands. He was looking down at her, seeing the untidy hair shining with pomade, the round, naked shoulders dotted with clumps of powder, the small red ears. It’s too bad, he thought. I can’t do it. It’s a pity—she must know some things. Don Reba talks in his sleep… He brings her to interrogations—she is very fond of interrogations… I can’t do it.

“Well?” she said irritably.

“Your rugs are beautiful,” he said loudly. “But I must go.”

She didn’t get it at first, then her face contorted. “How dare you?” she whispered, but he had already felt for the door with his shoulder blades, run out into the hallway, and quickly walked away. Starting tomorrow, I’m not taking any more baths, he thought. This place needs hogs, not gods!