Ivan Klíma - Judge On Trial

‘Take your hands away from my eyes, then!’

‘No! Guess!’

‘Honza!’

‘Don’t be silly; he can’t sleep here!’

‘So it’s someone sleeping here? It’s Daddy, then. Hooray, Daddy! When did you come?’

‘Stop yelling! Can’t you see Daddy’s sleeping?’

‘We can go swimming, then, now that Daddy’s here.’

‘Don’t be silly! Honza can’t go in the water.’

‘So what, now Daddy’s here?’

‘You’re a nice one. When Honza made you a boat you sucked up to him then.’

‘No, you’re the one that sucked up to him. And you played cards with him.’

‘Fibber!’

Thump. Thump.

‘Hey, Manda! Can you hear? Honza’s getting up.’

The bed next to him was empty. He got dressed. Not only was Alena already up, but breakfast was ready on the table. Five mugs and plates (why five? oh, yes, five, of course: they had a guest), five egg cups, and what’s more a knife and two spoons at each place. He couldn’t recall when his wife had last laid the table in such exemplary fashion. Wasn’t she rather overdoing it just on account of some student? He gave her a kiss. ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’

‘I’d slept enough.’

‘It’s just that I thought we went to bed quite late…’ Above, the stairs creaked; her guest was apparently coming to join them for breakfast.

He entered at the same time as the children, rather as if they had carried or propelled him through the door. They danced all round him. The student seemed even taller and skinnier than the night before — there was something about him Adam found inimical. But it was less his appearance than the fact that it was here he had decided to take his overdose, or even taken the pills at all. He didn’t like people who couldn’t even see out the few years one was allotted on earth.

‘Good morning!’ the student bellowed, as if addressing an entire platoon.

Alena was pouring the tea. ‘How did you sleep?’

‘It’s nice of you to ask, Alena, but you know I don’t sleep very much.’ He buttered himself a slice of bread. ‘But I did see the sunrise.’

‘Honza, you promised you’d tell us about how you jumped with a parachute.’

‘Shush, Martin!’ Alena scolded him. ‘You know you mustn’t talk with your mouth full.’

‘You did parachute jumping?’ asked Adam incredulously.

‘Yes, when I was taking flying lessons,’ he said, blushing slightly.

Why did the student tell lies? He was used to all sorts of people lying to him; indeed most of the people he met in court did. But they generally lied to some purpose — to conceal or fabricate something. Those people were trying to avoid suspicion or punishment, but what could this young fellow hope to achieve, apart from the admiration of a six-year-old boy?

Alena got up from the table. Though normally she took even longer over her food than the children, this morning she had been the first to finish her breakfast — if she’d eaten anything at all. And now she was hurrying to wash the dishes.

He sensed the tension in the room and would happily have done something to ease it if he’d known the cause. The only thing he could do was to leave the table and go out.

The elm outside the window was bathed in sunlight and the scent of flowering meadows wafted in. He stood up. ‘I think I’ll go and see if there are any mushrooms growing. Coming with me?’

‘I’m not sure.’ She was making such a clatter with the washing-up that he scarcely heard her. ‘I thought I might drive Honza to the bus stop now.’

‘The bus doesn’t go till this afternoon.’

‘Oh, yes, I hadn’t thought of that. But what about the children? And here…’ She gave the student a disconcerted look.

‘Off you go, Alena!’ Honza replied condescendingly. ‘I’ll look after them.’

They walked along a grassy path that sloped up steeply towards the forest. He took her hand; he knew she liked him to. She walked without speaking at his side — she always panted when going uphill.

He could still feel tension in her silence. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘No. It’s just I’m still het up about what he did.’

‘The student?’

‘Why do you keep calling him a student?’

‘Sorry.’

‘I got a terrible fright. But there’s no need for you to upset yourself.’

‘It peeves me that you’re in a bad mood on his account.’

‘I’m not in a bad mood.’

It seemed to him she was fighting back tears. ‘Look, you don’t have to come with me. I know you’re not interested in mushrooming.’

‘That’s not true. Why are you always getting at me?’

He stopped. They had almost reached the brow of the hill. When he turned round, he could see a broad hollow below him. On the horizon, the ruins of Trosky stood up like two monster teeth. ‘But I don’t get at you.’ He sat down on a flat, warm stone. She stood over him in confusion for a moment, then put on her sunglasses and sat down also.

‘When I was at Petr’s it struck me things can’t go on much longer like this.’

‘What things?’

‘I mean I can’t go on hanging around with them all, acting as courier for money and messages, and continue working as a judge.’

‘Why not?’

He caught a surprising note of relief in her voice.

‘So what do you want to do? They are your friends, after all.’

‘I’m giving it a lot of thought. I can’t see how I’ll manage to keep my position, but then I can’t imagine what else I’d do if I had to leave.’

‘We’d make a living somehow,’ she said absently.

‘That’s not what worries me. Everyone manages to make some kind of living. And I might not even have to measure water like Matěj — but what would be the point of being an industrial lawyer, filing suits about delivery dates and damages? It’s something that never interested me.’ He sensed that her thoughts were elsewhere. She never was one to share his concerns particularly, but on this occasion he had clearly chosen the wrong moment.

‘It’s wrong to desert anyone,’ she said. ‘Even your friends!’

‘I’m not deserting them. It’s just that I felt odd in their company all of a sudden. Not because I was still somewhere that they had had to leave, but it seemed to me that with them I would be going back to somewhere I never wanted to see again.’

‘Where didn’t you want to return to?’

Her voice sounded to him just as indifferent as before. ‘To the ghetto. That state of constantly waiting for miracles and liberation. But at the same time, among the ones at work I feel even worse. A complete alien. It suddenly hit me that I didn’t belong anywhere. It was an odd sensation.’ He waited for her to say: But you belong here, or something similar, but she remained silent.

‘In the past I always thought I knew where I belonged and what I wanted. Maybe I was wrong. But now…’

‘People should act according to their conscience!’

He glanced at her in surprise. ‘I’ve always tried to, my whole life!’

‘No you haven’t… Your decisions have always been to do with tactics. One should be true to oneself.’

‘That’s something I was told in that place — when I was a little boy. A clown said it to me.’

‘You think you have to be a clown to be honest.’

He noticed that tears were trickling from under her sunglasses. ‘Why are you crying?’

‘We never talk about anything but you,’ she sobbed. ‘You’re only interested in yourself.’

He couldn’t remember when they last talked about him, but before he could respond, she stood up and dashed down the hillside.

2

He arrived at the courthouse direct from the country. He was in a bad mood and felt tired. He had had to get up early and on such occasions he always woke up even earlier than necessary. During the two days he had spent at the cottage, he had not had much chance to relax — the tension he had felt on his arrival had not dissipated. Perhaps it had only been his impression, only the presence of the Honza fellow getting on his nerves. It might well have been that the others had felt nothing.