Ismail Kadare - Three Arched Bridge

That is what people are like. It sometimes occurred to me that if the bridge were conscious, it would be more disgusted than amused by us and would take to its heels like a frightened beast. A rainbow, the bridge’s model and perhaps its inspiration, is something that, thank God, nobody yet knows how to build, and still less to chain in fetters; but is it not also something frightening, fragile, and incomprehensible to people?

AT THE END OF THE WEEK the two representatives of the bridge owners, mounted on mules, turned up again after being absent for so long* People gaped at them openmouthed when they arrived, as if they were seeing shades. People’s eyes followed them, as if asking, Still on this earth?

They themselves did not show the slightest curiosity in glancing at the bridge, not even at the dead man in the first arch, but applied themselves immediately to the task for which they had come, They dug two holes, one at the entrance and the other at the end of the bridge, fixed iron stakes in them, and fixed metal signs on the stakes, like those that “Boats and Rafts” had once used. It was understood at once that these were tables of tolls for crossing the bridge, Everything was set out in detail; the toll for individuals, reduced rates for whole families and clans, the toll for the crossing of each head of livestock, reductions for herds, the toll for individual carts, reductions for caravans, and so forth.

People looked at the sign as if to say. We turned our noses up before at crossing for free, and now we have to pay!

The two employees of the road and bridge company did not leave after erecting the signs but took over the ferryman’s small abandoned lodge, which, it seems, the company had bought some time before. They began to do duty at the bridge in turns.

Surprisingly, people began to cross the bridge more and more often after the toll was imposed.

AVENETIAN MONK on his way to Byzantium brought more bad news from the Vloré base. A Turkish imperial decree had just been issued, removing the base’s old name of Orikum and renaming it Pasha-Lima, This was a terrifying and in any event an extraordinary name, since in Turkish it meant “port of ports,’ “chief port,’ or “pasha of ports.” It was not hard to imagine what a military base with such a name would be used for. This was a great harbor opened by the Ottomans on Europe’s very flank.

As the monk told me, Albanian and Turkish soldiers provoked each other daily at the boundary dividing the base. Dim-witted as he was, Balsha II could easily fall into a trap.

After the monk left, I went for a long walk on the banks of the Ujana e Keqe, and my thoughts were as murky as its waters. Time and again, that music of death I had heard weeks previously on the border came to my mind. Yes, they were trying to shackle our feet with that attenuated music. And after halting our dances they would bind our hands, and then our souls,

The hunger of the great Ottoman state could be felt in the wind. We were already used to the savage hunger of the Slavs, Naked and with bared teeth like a wolfs, this hunger always seemed more dangerous than anything else. But in contrast, the Ottoman pressure involved a kind of temptation. It struck me as no accident that they had chosen the moon as their symbol Under its light, the world could be caressed and lulled to sleep more easily.

As I walked along the riverbank, this caress terrified me more than anything else. Dusk was falling. The bridge looked desolate and cold. And suddenly, in its slightly hunched length, in its arches and buttresses, and in its solitude, there was an expectancy. What are you waiting for, stone one? I said to myself. Distant phantoms? Or an imperial army and the sound of nameless feet, marching ten, twenty, a hundred hours without rest? Cursed thing.

NEWS FOLLOWED HARD ON NEWS, as frequent and grim as clouds in a dark season. The Turks had launched a major diplomatic offensive. More than half the Balkan peninsula was now under the Ottoman crescent Three of the eleven lords of Arberia had also accepted vassalage, Throughout the Balkans, Turkish armies were on large-scale maneuvers in order to strike fear into those princes and dukes who still hesitated, The famous “Arbanon Line” of seven fortresses from Shkodér to Lezhé, which defended Byzantium from the Slavs, was crumbling. Byzantium itself had lost its vigor, The Balkan nobles — Albanians, Croats, Greeks, Serbs, Romanians, Macedonians, and Slovenes — sent their couriers sometimes to Venice and sometimes to Turkey, and sometimes in both directions simultaneously, to choose the lesser of the two dangers. They said that messengers left by one door, while at another entered drawers of straws and especially readers of shoulder blades, as people had recently called those who predict the approach or retreat of war by the color of a ram’s shoulder blade. It is said that immediately after one dinner, at which the reader of the shoulder blade was horrified by the reddish tinge of the bone, the count of the Skurajs sent messengers to the sultan. The Muzakas were also wavering, The stand of the Dukagjins was unknown. They had withdrawn into the depths of the mountains, as they usually did at such times, and were brooding behind the mists. There is always time to die, their forebear had said. However, the phrase has been considered ambiguous; it is not clear which is considered death, the acceptance of war or of vassalage. They had never been sycophants, but nevertheless at such times you must prepare yourself for anything.

Increasingly I remembered their emblems, with all their lions, manes, fangs, claws, and cockspurs, as if to determine the stands they would take* … Just as often I remembered the laughter of the two countesses on the bank of the Ujana e Keqe, when they flirted with the name of “Abdullahth,” and then their gossip about their sister-in-law Katrina, or “the queen” as they sarcastically called her, because her husband Karl Topia was a pretender to the long-vacant throne of Arberia, I remembered all these things and became as frightened of these dainty women as of the Turkish yataghan. I was frightened of the gifts and silks with which the Ottomans were so generous, and which the ladies coveted so much.

Some time ago, when the count of Kashnjet and the duke of Tepelené had been the first to accept vassalage, they had mocked those who had predicted disaster. You said that the Turks would destroy us and strip us and disgrace us, they said. But we are still masters of our lands.

Our castles are still where they were; our coats of arms, our honor, and our possessions are untouched. If you don’t believe us, come and see with your own eyes,

That is how they, and their ladies especially, wrote to other nobles. In fact it was true in a way. The Turk did not touch them. Nothing had changed, except for something that seemed tiny and unimportant, … This was the matter of the date at the head of their letters. Instead of the year 1378, they had written “hijrah 757,” according to the Islamic calendar, the adoption of which was one of the Ottomans’ few demands.

How unlucky they were, They had turned time back six hundred years, and they laughed and joked, How terrible!

NEVER BEFORE had so many travelers stayed at the Inn of the Two Roberts. They also brought news, most of it, alas, bleak.

The Muzakas had sent back the Ottomans, third deputation. The two barons Gropa and Matranga, on the contrary, had declared their vassalage. So had two Serbian kings in the frontier regions and another Croatian prince. It was not yet known what Nikollé Zaharia and his vassals had decided, nor the Kastriotis. There were whispers about an alliance between the two most powerful nobles, the great count Karl Topia and Balsha II, but this could just as well be wishful thinking as the truth. The question of the crown, to which Topia was a pretender, was an almost insuperable obstacle to such a pact. Others said that Topia had sent his own messengers to forge an alliance with the king of Hungary, As for old Balsha, he had withdrawn to the mountains like the Dukagjins, and besides, he was too old to lead a campaign. Nevertheless, singly and in wretched isolation some in twos or occasionally in threes, the majority of the Albanian nobles prepared for war. Count Stres, our liege lord, also called on all his vassals and knights to stand by.