Ismail Kadare - Three Arched Bridge

Some time ago, I happened to see one of their military units on its homeward journey after taking part in the dispute between the barons of Ohri and the Muzakas. It was a body of mercenaries who had fought for a fixed period for a fee, under a contract. The Albanian princes. like those elsewhere in the Balkans and the Byzantine emperors themselves, have for some years been calling on Turkish units for use in their squabbles among themselves, This was how they first appeared in the Balkan lands, My flesh crept when 1 saw them traveling in formation along the highway with that somber pace that all the world’s armies have. They are leaving us, I thought, but taking us with them. Their eyes roved covetously about^ and 1 remembered the saying of my father Gjorg that every invasion starts in the eyes.

Who first invited them? I fear that many peoples of Europe will one day ask this question. It will be not a question but a shriek. And no one will answer it. Everyone will try to blame someone else, From now on, the truth becomes shrouded in mist. Almost as if it were wrapped in Turkish silk.

And now it was there from which an offer of marriage came, When the Ottoman envoys crossed the river by raft to visit the county laden with expensive gifts, they were all charm. Their breeches whispered with the stealthy swish of silk, But they returned despondent, with overcast features, The henna glowed threateningly on their short beards* Our liege lord had not agreed to grant them his daughter. In order not to anger them, he had said that his daughter was too young to be engaged, and besides, had been lying sick for some time. In fact the girl was seventeen, and although her sickness had left her rather pale, she was now completely cured. But it was clear that the count did not desire this alliance at all

ALL THAT SUMMER, day and night, the work of erecting the bridge piers continued* They dug pits for the foundations until they struck bedrock, then began filling them with large stones, These were brought by cart from an old, distant quarry and lowered into the pits with the help of a winch that they called a gikrik . Its squeaking did not cease day or night as it lowered sometimes stones slung with stout rope, sometimes buckets filled with mortar.

Lime pits had been dug nearby, and some of the men working on the bridge piers were entirely coated with white. But the color of mud still predominated.

Work proceeded feverishly on the bridge piers. The master-in-chief, with his assistants in tow, spent hours on the wooden scaffolding that surrounded each of the pits. Sometimes they swarmed like demons over the timbers nailed like crosses, and sometimes, when oppressed by the heat, they would plunge stark naked into the river, oblivious to the eyes of the world. They worked swiftly to raise the piers before autumn came, when the Ujana e Keqe would swell The diversion channels for the river were intended only for the dry season, and after the first rains they would be unable to cope with the volume of water, part of which would flow again in the old bed,

Whenever a cloud appeared in the sky, the master-in-chief lifted his sparkling — head anxiously toward the mountains.

In fact, everybody was waiting for autumn to come. Some were curious to see what the river would do when it met the obstacles in its path. Others shook their heads, convinced that the Ujana e Keqe would know how to exact its revenge. It had not earned its name in vain,

People waited for the river to rise, in the way that they wait for someone who has been away from home for a long time, while great changes have taken place in his absence. Although most took the side of the river, and even laid wagers on the scale of its revenge, there were also those who felt pity for the bridge. However, they were still few, and they concealed their sympathy.

The days grew shorten Summer gave way to autumn without anything noteworthy happening, A workman drowned in a lime pit, and two others were crippled by the winch, but these were very minor incidents compared with what had been expected,

NOT ONLY GLOOM-MONGERS, who always crop up on the eve of disasters, but everyone was in a state of fever. One day toward the middle of the first month of autumn, the river was more turbulent than usual There had been a storm somewhere in the mountains.

The new waters surged forward like the vanguard of an army’ but the diversion channels swallowed them with ease, not letting them flood the works,

It was now clear that the confrontation between the river and the bridge builders was at hand.

Some clear days went by, and then the skies filled with clouds, A thin, penetrating drizzle fell that seemed determined not to leave an inch of the world dry, Wrapped in sleeveless black cloaks, the laborers pressed on with their work under the rain, “How can they not be afraid?” people said. “How can their legs keep them there., now that the river is waking from its sleep?”

Yet the river seemed to bide its time, collecting its strength before attacking,

The diversion channels barely coped with one new onrush of water. But the Ujana e Keqe still did not show its mettle. Old Ajkuna said that the river would play with the bridge like a cat with a mouse.

Several more days of rain passed, and now the river’s delay was more alarming than any onslaught, Even the builders themselves, coolheaded so far, seemed to grow anxious, A few cold and distant flashes of lightning, like mute heralds, added to the terror. It has sent every sign, people said. Woe to those who fail to realize that.

The river’s attack was expected daily, even hourly, but still it did not come. “Oh, ‘Wicked Waters, is a good name,” people said. “The river knows many tricks and ruses.”

And indeed it came when no one expected it. After the days of rain the weather unexpectedly cleared, A blue sky spread itself above, blinding the eyes, and nobody thought that the river, so quiet during the days of rain, could attack now. But it struck precisely at this time.

First a roar was heard, like a thunderclap, and the river at once rushed forward. In a furious onslaught the waters overflowed the banks of the diversion channels and surged into their old bed. In moments there was pandemonium. Pits and clay-packed dykes vanished in the twinkling of an eye. The waters made trash of the planks, beams, pulleys, sieves, and general debris, which were thrown nobody could tell where, and then with redoubled force hurled themselves against the unfinished stone piers. They carried with them not only tree stumps and stones, but goats, wolves, and even drowned snakes that resembled the emblems and terrifying symbols of an army. They stormed the bridge head-on, were repulsed, lunged from the left, poured from the right, and foamed wildly below the piers. But the stone piers took no notice, Only then did people notice the master-in-chief still poised above the planks stretching from one pier to another, studying the angry surge of the Ujana e Keqe. Some people claim that he sometimes laughed.

It was clear that the Ujana e Keqe had failed in its first contest with the stone yoke they were casting over it. The debris it had swallowed, along with a drunken mason who the waves seized, I do not know how, were not much of a revenge. The water surged on, wilder than ever, and the Ujana e Keqe, colored by the clay it carried, seemed stained with blood.

People looked at the stone teeth planted in the water, and pitied the river. It will rise again, they said; it will recover from its summer sickness, and then well see what havoc it will wreak.

But two weeks passed, the river rose still higher, its waves grew stronger, and its roar grew deeper, but still it did nothing to the bridge.