Andrus Kivirähk - The Man Who Spoke Snakish

“No, Father hasn’t talked about it,” replied Magdaleena. “I have to go home now. I’ve got a lot to do there.”

“Well, so have we,” agreed the trio. “We grabbed some time to listen to music, but now we have to get back to work. You have to earn your bread. God doesn’t just give you anything.” I wasn’t in any hurry, on the other hand. I knew there was a whopping hunk of venison waiting for me at home, but I wasn’t hungry yet. And I didn’t have the heart to leave Magdaleena; this sudden rush of love was like a leaf attaching me to her skirt tails, and I couldn’t and wouldn’t tear myself away. “I’ll come with you,” I said to Magdaleena.

Pärtel chimed in enthusiastically, “Right, the village elder can give you the best advice about how to start a new life.” The five of us traipsed toward the village.

When we got to Magdaleena’s house, Johannes was just coming out of the cottage, a sheath knife in his hand.

“What are you doing, Father?” cried Magdaleena.

“Miira is worse,” replied Johannes anxiously. “She won’t take to her feet anymore.”

“Is there something wrong with the cow?” asked Pärtel.

“Yes, she’s been sickly for a week or so,” said Magdaleena. “She won’t eat or anything, just lows quietly and sadly. Poor creature. Father’s been treating her, but nothing helps.”

“Never mind. I haven’t tried the best arts of doing it yet,” said Johannes. “I was taught those by one of the knights’ stable hands — a genuine German. This was the way he treated his master’s horses, so it’s a tried and tested trick. Not homespun wisdom, but knowledge figured out in foreign lands.”

“Can I look on?” asked Jaakop. Johannes was happy to agree.

“Of course, come with me, young men! This wisdom might be of use to you. As long as you live you learn.”

We all went into the barn. Miira the cow was lying on the straw and looked really pathetic and starved. It was immediately clear to me that this beast’s days were numbered. She was simply too old. Not even a human lives forever, let alone an animal. Johannes had talked about treating the cow but I hoped that he would just cut the animal’s throat and end the creature’s suffering. Johannes evidently didn’t think so. He had such faith in the German stableboy’s teaching that he apparently thought he could wake the dead. He went up to the cow, took the knife, and made a deep incision in the animal’s tail. The cow lowed in pain.

“Ahhaa!” said Johannes triumphantly and then split the cow’s ears with the knife.

“What are you doing?” asked Andreas respectfully.

“I’m making slits in her body, to let the disease out,” explained Johannes, and jabbed a little hole in the cow’s udder. Blood started to trickle and the poor cow cried out.

“Keep in mind, boys, you have to make holes in the udder, under the tail, and in the ears!” instructed Johannes, and Pärtel, Jaakop, and Andreas repeated those words in a murmur, so that it would all sink into their minds. It was horrible for me to watch this animal torture, but I didn’t intervene. What business was it of mine what the villagers did to their own animals? What I knew for certain was that in the forest no human would have cut into his wolves like that. But that wasn’t everything. The German stableboy had taught Johannes many tricks.

Johannes fetched out a tub, in which a strange substance was glistening.

“This is seal blubber,” he said. “The cow must eat it.”

Naturally the cow declined this confection. Even though dying, she was still strong enough to press her jaws firmly together and turn her head away when she was offered the blubber. Johannes sighed.

“Stupid creature, you don’t know what’s good for you,” he said, a gentle rebuke in his voice. “The seal blubber will drive the disease out through the wounds in your skin. Boys, come and help! Pull her jaws open with the knife, so I can put the blubber in.”

After a moment the four of them had forced the cow around; only Magdaleena didn’t take part in torturing the animal. True, Magdaleena scarcely regarded it as torture; she was keeping away so as not to disturb the men’s important work. In my heart I hoped, though, that the cow would die and once and for all escape all this mauling. You could see that her life was only hanging by a thread.

Nevertheless it wasn’t easy for the men to force her to eat the seal blubber. With great effort they had managed to get the knife between her teeth; now Pärtel was holding the animal’s jaws open with it, while Jaakop and Andreas sat astride the sick cow’s neck, so that she wouldn’t flinch. Elder Johannes had dipped a piece of seal blubber inside, and was now forcing it into the cow’s throat, with the other hand tugging the long dark tongue out of the way. The cow made a terrible noise, as if starting to choke, and this was no wonder, because it’s hard to breathe when a stick is poked down your throat. Johannes twisted the stick back and forth, until he was convinced that the seal blubber had passed down the cow’s throat. Then he pulled the rod out; the cow choked and her eyes turned inside out. But she still wasn’t able to die and that was her misfortune, for the German stableboy really had taught Johannes many frightful things.

“The blubber pushes the disease out, but there needs to be some force from the outside too,” explained Johannes. “One medicine pushes, the other pulls! For the pulling we use steam. Magdaleena, go to the inglenook and fetch the little pot that I put on to boil there. Quickly! I can see that the blubber has started to do its work and is scaring away the disease with full force.”

Johannes pointed with satisfaction to the cow’s wounds, which had started to bleed profusely from the great mauling. Andreas and Jaakop, who were still mounted on the cow’s back, were spattered in blood. They looked at their blood-flecked clothes suspiciously.

“The disease won’t go over to us, will it?” asked Andreas.

“Don’t worry, it won’t! It has lost all its power and strength. Soon we’ll put hot steam on the wounds and then the cow will be perfectly well.”

I was perfectly sure that the cow would not survive this torture. Magdaleena had come with a steaming pot, and Johannes set about throwing some straws in it.

“Take notice, boys, which plants I put into the hot water!” Johannes instructed. “This is a great art, and not a single herb may be left out. Everything has to go in the right proportion. Look, I’m putting in thyme and finally swallowwort too. That is what you have to put in last, so the stableboy taught me. It’s a sure cure; the whole world uses it. Now try to raise the cow’s arse a little. I want to put this pot under her tail.”

Pärtel and Jaakop started levering the poor cow’s arse up from the ground with two poles. The animal was already unconscious, breathing heavily. Nevertheless, when Johannes shoved the hot pot under her tail, she managed a last bellow. Then she died.

I was the only one who noticed it; Johannes carried on treating the cow.

“The disease is almost conquered!” he remarked with satisfaction, eagerly attending to the expired cow. “Now we’ll let some smoke into the cut in the udder; that’s where the disease is flowing out fastest. That must have been the biggest seat of the disease.”

He scorched the carcass all over, muttered some words, patted the corpse, and only a while later did he start to realize that something was wrong.

“Miira!” he cried, and with his thumb opened the cow’s inverted eye. “Miira, what’s wrong?”

“She’s dead,” I said.

“What are you saying?” Johannes shouted, only now letting go of his pot. At first he looked quite disappointed, but he soon conjured up a humble expression and piously turned his eyeballs heavenward. “Indeed, you’re right. Well now, what’s to be done? Evidently God had other plans.”