Andrus Kivirähk - The Man Who Spoke Snakish

“Pärtel,” I mumbled, spitting blood. “Don’t you remember? This is Ints! She used to be your friend!”

“A snake can’t be a Christian’s friend,” said Pärtel. “You’re the one who makes friends with snakes, because you’re a pagan. That’s why you’re going to be burned at the stake!”

“You’re a monster,” I said quietly. Pärtel’s words didn’t frighten me. They could burn me if they wanted to; everything was finished anyway, and now they had killed my mother and Ints’s whole family and all my old friends the adders. There was no one left, only Ints with her broken back; no doubt they were about to make an end of her as well. Very well, let them do it; it was painful for me to watch Ints wriggling helplessly in the dust like some miserable earthworm.

“Hold on, friend!” I hissed to her. Ints looked at me; she understood what I had said, but she was no longer able to answer. Spasmodic convulsions ran through her body. I could see she was in great pain.

“Shall we throw the snake in the fire?” asked Jaakop, stepping closer and shoving Ints with his foot.

“No, better to take it to an ants’ nest,” answered Pärtel. “Then you can see some fun; the ants will pick the flesh off the bones so clean as if the damn snake was boiled in a pot.”

“You wretch, you beast, you turd!” I screeched on the ground, as Pärtel, accompanied by the village men, lifted Ints’s twitching body on a forked branch and took her away somewhere. I recalled how scornful Ints used to be about ants’ nests, and now she had to fall into such filth. Those same repulsive and stupid tiny insects would eat her flesh, carry her off bit by bit into their tiny passageways and leave only a white skeleton. Those wretched little creatures did not know Snakish — just like the villagers, thanks to whom they now had such an abundant meal to eat. The villagers had grown bold. They had summoned the courage to kill the adders, and now there was nothing left to impede the onslaught of the new world. To their deaf ears Snakish words were of no use; they offered no defense against something so crude as a stick, with which it is so easy to smash the delicate back of an adder.

Pärtel had said I would be burned at the stake, and I had expected to be thrown into the fire there and then. Evidently the village men had other plans. Johannes stepped up to me, looked at me seriously for a while, then bent over me, and said, “Now you see, Leemet, what happened to you because you rejected the sign of the holy cross. If you had let the reverend brothers christen you, the devil would not have got you in his power.”

“I am not in anyone’s power,” I murmured.

“But why did you attack us then?” asked Johannes. “Why did you kill so many honest Christians?”

“Because those Christians killed my friends,” I retorted. “Do you know, you stupid old man, that you murdered my mother today?”

“Your mother? We were destroying snakes, Satan’s most loyal servants. Yesterday evening those disgusting animals killed two of our village people, young Andreas and dear Katariina. That crime could not go unpunished, so we suffocated the whole damned lot of them in their own cave.”

“My mother was in that cave too,” I said.

“In the snakes’ cave?” cried Johannes, brandishing his cross. “Then she was like a snake herself — or worse still, a witch! In that case she got her rightful fate!”

“Old man,” I said. “Today I ripped out the guts of a fairy-worshipping misfit like you. I’d sorely like to plunge a knife into your belly too and yank your liver out, and then bash you in the face with it.”

“You talk like a wild animal,” said Johannes scornfully. “And that’s what you are. Your soul is so strongly in the grip of the devil that you have no hope of partaking of God’s mercy and appreciating his grace. You attacked us together with your friend, the diabolical snake, but God protected us and guided the hand of bold Jaakop, who threw a stone at you. Your demonic lord is powerful, but he can’t prevail against God. Soon, at dawn, we’ll burn you, up on the hill of swings. Magdaleena can pray for you, but I’m letting you perish. For too long I’ve allowed a henchman of Satan in my own house; I have been weak and sinful myself.”

I burst into bitter laughter, although I would rather have wept — but I had no more tears.

“Magdaleena won’t be praying for me,” I screamed into Johannes’s face. “Don’t you worry about that! Ah, so that’s why you weren’t at home when Death came visiting your house! You were in the forest, killing snakes! Indeed your God did keep and preserve you and led you out of great danger. Rejoice now, old man, and thank your merciful God, who loves and protects you so much!”

“What are you talking about?” asked Johannes uneasily. “When did Death visit my house?”

“In the night, of course!” I sneered, sobbing. “Death comes at night and asks, ‘Knock-knock, is Elder Johannes at home?’ But he isn’t. So where is he? The elder is cooking adders in the forest! He has much work to do; his God has chosen him for it! But Death doesn’t want to go home with empty hands; he wants to fill his mouth with something! There’s no Johannes, no Leemet. But Magdaleena and Toomas are at home! Oh how nice! A beautiful girl, a little boy! How tasty! The sprites and the dogs of the grove also want to eat! God is busy gobbling up the adders that Johannes is cooking for him; well then, the sprites and the dogs can taste human flesh. All these beings are so hungry! They have such big bellies they’re never filled!”

The last words I absolutely roared, rolling on the ground as if I were on hot coals. The villagers stood around me in astonishment, not knowing what to do. Johannes was trembling.

“Have you …” he stammered. “Have you done harm to my child?”

“Not I!” I bellowed. “It was the dogs of the grove, the sprites and the other gods! They drink blood. Not I! I only know Snakish, nothing else, and I’m the last one who does. The very last. For there aren’t even snakes anymore!”

I burst into laughter, and the next moment I tried to bite the leg of the man standing nearest to me. The man leapt aside in alarm.

“Don’t be afraid, you bastard! My teeth aren’t venomous; you won’t die of them!”

“He’s gone mad,” said Johannes, his face pale. “Let’s take him with us and go quickly to the village. I’m very worried about Magdaleena.”

“Too late, you old idiot, too late!” I brayed in a truly demented way, smashing my head against the ground. “Too late!”

“Faster!” screamed Johannes, tearing at his beard. “Faster!”

hen I now think back to that night, the only feeling that prevails in me is a slight embarrassment at my own wild behavior. So much needless shouting and desperation! After the wolf bit Hiie to death, I should have been used to all those close to me being lost. The people and animals that I cared about were disappearing like fish that had swum too close to the surface; a single flash of the fin and they were no longer visible. One by one they were diving to a place I couldn’t follow. That is, of course, I could have followed them, just as it is possible to fling yourself into the sea to try to catch a fish, but you never will. One day I will follow all my dear ones, but although we’re heading in the same direction, we will never meet again. So great is the sea and so tiny are we.

Today I can think about it completely calmly. I’m not happy to recall the memory of losing Magdaleena and little Toomas, Ints and the other adders, and my mother all on the same night. But that was how it had to go, for the death of a rotten tree is always rapid: one violent shake and over it goes. Its broad canopy, which for many years rose up in its place in the forest, has suddenly vanished. For a while there is a space in the forest cover, but soon the space is filled by new growth, as if nothing had happened.