Ivan Klíma - Judge On Trial

What was she doing now? he wondered. Sleeping, of course — a great distance away, along with the children. Somewhere in this city Magdalena lay sleeping too; once there was a time she was the person closest to him, though he had never made up his mind to acknowledge her to the world as his wife. And somewhere else in the city slept Karel Kozlík, the bait they had prepared for him. But maybe he too was awake; sleep came hard to one expecting to be condemned to death.

I too was condemned to death, but they didn’t manage to carry out the sentence. How did I sleep in those days? I’ve already forgotten what happens in the souls of the sentenced; what dies or comes to life in their souls during sleepless nights. I used to get up — that I do remember — and creep to the closed and blacked-out window, to catch a glimpse of God’s sign, a glimpse of hope.

Now the window is open and uncurtained, and as I look out, the most that gleams in the darkness beyond is the light from a passing car. Hence my fear.

3

The books on the desk top (he had put them down next to the folder of case notes) gave off a peculiar smell of musty paper and mildew that brought to mind the two rooms that he alternated between when he lived in The Hole.

He opened the first book. Circulis Horologi Lunaris et Solaris authore Wenceslae Budowec, Barone a Budowa. Anno MDCXVI. The author’s name surprised him. He had known it solely in connection with the executions that had taken place below the windows of the house of his birth, long before he was born there. In fact he had never known anything about the man except that he was one of the twenty-eight. (Or was it twenty-seven?) So he had written books. A sad fate for a writer. How much would a prospective buyer pay for a 356-year-old book by one of the executed nobles? And where would he find such a buyer before tomorrow? He’d have to call Oldřich again.

Alžběta Vlková, born Nový Bydžov 6.6.1903; domiciled in Prague at 884/14 Mlandenicova Street:

I know Karel Kozlík only by sight, but would certainly recognise him as he lived in the next door flat at Mrs Marie Obensdorfová’s and I often bumped into him there. On Monday 3rd April at about half past ten at night it must have been as the television news had just finished I heard someone coming up the stairs. As I wanted to see who it was coming in so late I had a look. I used the spy-hole for the purpose and saw Karel Kozlík. On my way out of the lobby I heard a loud noise from the next door flat and the sound of breaking glass. I also heard some cursing going on. The said cursing I could hear through the wall. I could recognise the voice of Mrs Obensdorfova. Among other things I heard the words: you make my life an absolute misery, you scoundrel. You fiend, they should never have let you out. Then I heard the voice of Karel Kozlik shouting abuse. For instance I heard the words: you mean old cow, I’ll smash your face, kiss my a… etc. Then the row calmed down. Later I heard someone opening the door of Mrs Obensdorfová’s flat. I went to see who it might be, because it must have been at least midnight. For that purpose I first used the spy-hole and then a chink in the door and I identified Karel Kozlík, who was going down the stairs dressed in his coat and his checked cap. I had no trouble recognising him, but I don’t think he saw me as he was already several steps below me. Then I went off to bed.

Testimony of another tenant at 884/14 Mladenicova Street:

On 4th April this year I was coming home from work just before three o’clock in the morning as our train was a few hours late. As I came up the stairs I could already smell gas. I dashed into our flat frightened in case my wife had forgotten to turn off the gas. As soon as I made sure there was no gas escaping in our flat I went back out into the passage and discovered that the gas was coming from Mrs Obensdorfova’s flat and I started banging on her door without delay. As soon as I realised that no one was coming to open up I went down to the cellar and turned off the gas at the main. Then I went straight off to phone the police. But as none of the telephone booths in the area were working and all the pubs were closed by then I walked to the casualty post on Koniev Avenue. All that took me about twenty-five minutes. I immediately phoned from there and then the doctor drove back with me in the ambulance, where, with the police officers who had meanwhile arrived, the door was broken in. When asked by the police officers if I recognised the deceased I replied…

He felt like resting his head on the desk top and having a nap. They had reached Magdalena’s home at two o’clock in the morning. Her husband had turned out to be a bald, tubby fifty-year-old, who walked around the flat in baggy trousers and a shirt with a threadbare collar and patched elbows — a fact that Adam found surprisingly gratifying. One only needed to look at the man to see that he would be the last person to take part in subversive activity. To persecute him on political grounds was clearly an act of pure vindictiveness.

Having no wish to be present while the two discussed it, he told them he would like a short rest.

They had left him alone in the room. It was lit by a standard lamp with a familiar lampshade (except that the green had faded to a sort of dirty yellow). Beneath his feet there was a carpet with a familiar pattern and in a corner he was astonished to recognise one of the Chinese vases. Only at that moment did it come home to him that she had really been alive throughout the last thirteen years, continuing her existence somewhere, surrounded by her things.

Then they had come back in to tell him they had decided to sell the old books and if necessary the Chinese vase, and he had rashly offered to help them.

During the body search the following property was impounded:

1. 1 pocket-sized address-book with 20 pages, red covers

2. 1 wallet containing nine hundred and thirty crowns and vouchers for the canteen in Krč Hospital

3. 5 photographs 4x4 cms. showing the faces of a woman and child

4. 1 dagger with a horn handle inscribed To thine own self be true

5.1 postcard of a pornographic nature showing intercourse between a man and a woman

6. 1 Premium Savings Book No. 3286540 issued by the Czechoslovak State Savings Bank in the name of Marie Obensdorfová and registering a balance of 1250 crowns

7. 1 key-ring with four keys

The pornographic postcard was an amateur copy of an original that had obviously been many times reproduced. A fat woman was spreading her mighty thighs in a repulsive fashion. On two of the photographs he recognised the pregnant woman who had visited him a few days before. In the others, a little girl was smiling, her features nondescript. He spent a few moments flipping through the savings book. The first deposit had been made fifteen years ago. Several further deposits followed. Since March 1967, however, there had been only withdrawals, usually four or five hundred crowns once a year before Christmas. On the final occasion someone had taken out two hundred and fifty crowns at the beginning of last December. During those fifteen years, inevitably, no premiums had been won on the book, and at least three thousand crowns in unpaid interest had thereby accrued to the State.

Was it possible that two people had been killed for twelve hundred crowns, when for the mere promise that someone might keep his (essentially paltry) job a sum more than ten times greater was being demanded? In this world anything was possible, but it was more likely that the money was a side issue. But no one could ever prove it. And in fact it would be immaterial, as it did not render the deed any less dreadful.