Wojciech Zukrowski - Stone Tablets

“Finally the last tonga rolled by and they let us go. The boss was furious. He pushed me away with his elbow, roared like a buffalo, and sat down behind the wheel. As soon as he started the car I knew that something would happen. He was running it at better than eighty miles an hour. Even in the villages he never slowed down. ‘I will show you how to drive,’ he wheezed.

“And then the cow scrambled out of the bushes. She walked onto the middle of the highway and looked around in our direction. She felt that something was wrong. She hesitated; should she turn back? ‘Pass a woman from in front, pass a cow from behind’—I remember the ambassador saying that to himself, not breaking his speed, aiming for the tight space between her hindquarters and the ditch. I was afraid a wheel would go onto the sand and pull us down. He must have thought of that, too, for he pushed harder on the gas, and then that man jumped out—”

“Man?” the counselor asked hoarsely, and a chill went down his spine.

“He wanted to drive the cow away. He waved a stick and stared at us. It all happened in a fraction of a second. We knocked the cow’s hind legs from under her. Glass shattered on the road. I did not even feel the car strike the man. He hit his head lightly and was thrown into the ditch like a cat. We drove a hundred meters more, perhaps farther, before the boss put on the brakes. We leaped out. The cow raised herself on her front legs and dragged her broken back. A little feces dribbled from her. She opened her muzzle but no sound came out.”

“And the man?” he asked, hardly able to breathe.

“I ran to him, but I knew at once that he was done for. He lay twisted, with his head down, in the ditch. The boss knew, too, for he stopped a long way from the ditch and stretched out his hands as if he wanted to push away what had happened. ‘Don’t move!’ he cried. ‘To the car!’ Peasants were running from the field with rods and hoes. They had only seen the cow, but that was enough to put them in a frenzy. They would have beaten us if they had caught us. They threw stones but we got away.

“The ambassador ordered me to drive. He did not even look around; he only swallowed very noisily. Then he said, ‘Krishan, you were driving. I will protect you. We will get a good lawyer. I will make it worth your while.’ I was afraid of him then and I agreed. He wheezed again and seemed to be planning something. Then he laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘There will be no problem,’ he said. ‘Only be quiet and listen to me. You will not regret it.’”

“I got some anise candies, uncle. Try one!” Mihaly burst in. Gleams of sunlight played on his bare legs, and his eyes were full of happiness. He looked with surprise at the somber men and the woman who was curled up, resting her elbow against the edge of the bed. The tent breathed lightly under a wave of humming noises punctuated by clanging cymbals.

“Well done. Have a munch. Don’t bother us just now.”

With the candies in a little horn of twisted leaf, the boy went over to the bed on which the stunt rider was resting, but Krishan forestalled him.

“No, Mihaly. I told you about the horoscope. I have to beware of sweets. Give them to her. She will eat for me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before, Krishan?” The counselor steered the conversation back to the confession Mihaly’s return had interrupted.

“I wanted to. I tried. But you said that you knew the whole truth, sir, so what was I to do?”

“It’s well that I know now.” Terey sighed deeply. “But what can be done? They will believe him, not me.”

“And that is not all,” said the driver, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “We went straight to the governor and the boss filed a complaint that the peasants had been lying in wait for passing automobiles and throwing stones. He named me as a witness. We went outside so the governor could look at the broken headlight and bent fender. He apologized profusely and sent out a truck with police. I sat by the driver. I had to show them where it had happened.

“The peasants were still standing on the road. Some were praying. The cow was lying under a canopy with garlands of flowers. Little lamps were burning all around her. When they saw us, they began running toward us and shouting. They surely wanted to make accusations. But the driver charged at them with the truck and they had to move aside. When we had barely passed them he stopped, and the police jumped out of the truck with bamboo sticks and began beating. I only heard cries and the thwacks of the sticks on their backs. People were running in all directions. I stole a look at the ditch — the man was not there. Probably his family had taken his body.”

He breathed uneasily as he relived the incident, and rubbed his forehead and the back of his neck with a towel. “Just as they had chased the peasants away, the officer summoned the head man of the village and filled out a report. The policeman shouted at the man so that he could only bow and apologize. He spoke endlessly about the cow — well, because that to them is the most sacred object—” he thrust his lips out scornfully and rubbed his brush-like mustache with one finger—“and I eat that sacred object.”

“Perhaps that man is still alive?” Terey asked without much confidence.

“No. I heard what the women were saying. I wrote down his name and the surname of his father. They were poor people. They did not even know that they could institute a claim for damages. All their lives they have had their noses in the dirt. When we went back, I told him everything.” He looked at Mihaly’s rapt face and wrinkled forehead. It was clear that the little boy was struggling to understand the meaning of what was being said, so he did not mention the ambassador, but looked significantly at the counselor. “He only said, ‘I will not give a penny. It is very bad to begin that way, for then I will never extricate myself.’ He reminded me, as you did, that I had signed a statement — that I should not change it, because it was there in black and white — that I was driving the car. And then, as if he had lost his trust in me, he set Ferenc on to throw me out at the first opportunity.”

“But why did he do that?”

“Because then if I retracted the statement, it would seem that I was getting revenge for being fired from my job. That is perfectly clear.”

The counselor sat hunched over. I know the truth, he thought bitterly. That is what I wanted. And I could have lived on without knowing anything. Ignorance is bliss. After all, I cannot change anything! I have no proof. They will believe the ambassador, not me.

And who would benefit, now that the matter was closed, if an investigation were begun all over? To be silent so no one would speak ill of us, of the embassy…to be silent for the good of Hungary? He clasped his hands and clenched them until it hurt. When all was said and done, this was evil! Does the law in this world always serve to entrench the injustices of those who know how to use it to their own advantage? And suddenly he thought of Chandra and was tempted to lay the whole affair before him. There was the man, he felt, who would be able to catch the culprit by the throat, perhaps force him to request to be recalled, to flee. The man who would flay him, fleece him of his last rupee, poison his life.

They gave a start: shrill, imperious bells clanged. The requisite number of viewers had arrived and it was time for Krishan’s next appearance. He raised himself reluctantly. His wife handed him his jacket, gently pulled it together in front, and did up the zipper. He stood suddenly stiff as if in a suit of armor, adjusted his helmet, and put on his goggles. The wings, the fluttering strips of leather, rustled dryly.

Before he left the tent Istvan saw that the young woman knelt, seized her husband’s hand, pressed it to her cheek and kissed it with her eyes closed.