A picaresque novel about a girl in a male costume and her journey through multicultural fifteenth-century Europe
A picaresque novel about a girl in a male costume and her journey through multicultural fifteenth-century Europe
(For excerpt in Spanish, please, scroll down)
LETTER VIII
My dear Enneleyn, I can’t wait to get your reply, even though I know that the letter which will come must have been written before you received my last letter – the one about my principal and I drinking the whole jar of Malvasia wine, and him pouring his heart out to me about the Mayor’s wife’s belated anguish. While I’m on it, let me add that Philip seems to have finally accepted the fact that his untimely amour had come to a definite end, and he even mentioned that before he left Thorn, he had managed to ask the bank of the Papens to sell both of his properties there, which he had bought at bargain prices less than six months earlier from some canon crazed with a ruinous passion for the game of dice. The financialists have supposedly managed to get quite a good price for his townhouses, despite the fact that, as you know, the grander one of them was in the process of a renovation, or perhaps exactly because of that.
Let us however leave Callimachus’s business and follies to the side, because there is something very important I need to tell you about. I have already mentioned, as you may remember, the new disease which is proliferating here with more and more audacity. I admit that up until recently I was not paying too much attention to the gossip about its spread in the city. Isn’t there plenty silliness that men like to repeat to one another with increasing agitation? As far as I am concerned, I was convinced that the illness, like many other ones, is just something that affects some people, leaving others safe, and even among those who do get ill, most have a good chance to recover. Which indeed seems to be the case with this new disease – our doctors call it “pockes” – since only every fourth person who catches it dies. However, to dismiss it because of that is like saying that one shouldn’t be afraid of a wild storm, since it’s a rare thing for a man to be hit by lightning. I admit it, there are other, more terrifying illnesses, but this seemingly insignificant pockes can kill within a week – and on top of that it spreads more easily than fluff from a poplar tree, so it will surely reach you in not too long a time. Therefore I beg you, in the name of our everlasting friendship, my dear Enneleyn, take good care of yourself, because this disease truly is no laughing matter! Best for you would be to stock up on food, so that you have enough for at least a month. On top of that, please gather supplies of wood, water and anything else you need for life, because when this illness reaches your area, the best thing to do is to lock yourself away at home and avoid any contact with people until the plague dies down on its own. At my, that is Callimachus’s place, we have already started stocking up, although I’m beginning to think we might have waited too long to do it. For example, there are no peas to buy at any stall, and the farmers sell sauerkraut at truly brazen prices. You need to pay at least a grivna and a half of silver for a barrel of salted herrings, which is twice the amount it cost only a week ago. The prices will surely still go up, because the supply is disappearing.
Going back to the pockes itself, you should know that at the beginning it was difficult to single it out, as it starts – just like many common illnesses – with a feverish body and general malaise, which is often, but not always, accompanied by the need to heave all the stomach’s contents. Only on day three or four a rash appears – these are reddish, yellowish or whitish spots which look like grains of barley stuck under the skin. As I already mentioned, some of those who get sick – though not all – die within ten days, but most of the sick slowly recover, though the skin all over their bodies is often carved with wounds where the stinging spots used to be. In time these wounds close, but when the scabs fall off, they leave scars, ugly-looking ones, especially on the face. Who knows whether they will ever fully heal?
So be careful, my dear Enneleyn, keep your eyes open and pay attention to what people say, so that you know in time what is going on, should similar symptoms show up in your – that is our! – lands.
It’s easy for me to advise you to stay at home and turn it into a fortress, but do I do that myself? No, of course not! After all I have to go out, at least to lectures and study groups, where I witness the helplessness of the entire respected group of highly educated medics. I pray quietly for them not to agree on the bathing ban, since many of them are inclined to introduce it in the face of the advancing plague. This kind of Danzig law would not personally affect me too badly, since, as you know, I go to bathe to Kazimierz, where the power of the Kraków council does not stretch, but it is not just about me, after all. You see, I’m not too happy about being in the company of people who have not bathed for God knows how many weeks.
Translated by Anna Blasiak
***
SEGRETARIO
CARTA VIII
Mi adorada Enneleyn, estoy impaciente por recibir tu respuesta, aunque sé que la que llegará tuviste que escribirla antes de recibir mi última carta en la que cuento cómo, una noche, mi patrón y yo, apuramos ambos una garrafa de malvasía, mientras él se me quejaba de los escrúpulos tardíos de la esposa del alcalde.
Ya que me remito a ello solo añadiré que Filip, por fin, admitió el final ineludible de aquellos amoríos e incluso, como me mencionó de pasada, que antes de abandonar Toruń, resolvió dar orden al banco de los Papen de vender las dos casas que tenía allí, compradas a muy buen precio hacía cosa de un año y medio, a un cierto canónigo cautivo de la nefasta pasión por el juego de dados. Aparentemente los banqueros consiguieron por las casas una cantidad nada despreciable, a pesar de que, como sabes, la más grande estaba en obras: o quizás precisamente por eso.
Dejemos, sin embargo, de lado los negocios y las debilidades de Kallimach, porque he de decirte algo muy importante. Te mencioné, lo recordarás, la enfermedad nueva que aquí señorea con cada vez más descaro. Confieso que hasta hace poco no daba mayor importancia a los chismes sobre este tema que rondaban por la ciudad. ¿Cuántas estupideces pasan obsesivamente de boca en boca? En lo que a mí respecta, estaba convencida de que esta dolencia, al igual que muchas otras, afecta a algunos y evita a todos los demás, e incluso la mayoría de aquellos que no logran esquivarla completamente, tiene la posibilidad de librarse. Es lo que ocurre con la nueva enfermedad que nuestros doctores llamaron “krościca”, porque apenas muere uno de cada cuatro que la pillan. Mas, frivolizarla por ello es como afirmar que no hay que temer a grandes tormentas si los rayos alcanzan a alguien muy raras veces. Lo reconozco, hay enfermedades más terribles, pero también la modosa “krościca” es capaz de matar en una semana, y además se expande como la pelusa de los álamos de modo que llegará a vosotros en un tris tras. Por eso, Enneleyn, te ruego y te imploro por nuestra amistad eterna, cuídate mucho, porque no hay bromas con esta peste. Lo mejor es que hagas acopio de alimentos para al menos un mes, al igual que de leña, agua y de todo lo necesario para la vida, porque cuando llegue allí, lo mejor será encerrarse en casa y no tener nada que ver con la gente, hasta que la epidemia se extinga por si sola. En mi casa, es decir la de Kallimach, ya hemos empezado a hacer tales reservas, aunque no estoy segura de si ya no es demasiado tarde porque, por ejemplo, no queda ni rastro de guisante seco en los tenderetes del mercado y los paisanos piden precios del todo desvergonzados por la col fermentada, sin hablar ya de los barriles de arenques salados que no los compras por menos de libra y media de plata, dos veces más que hace una semana, y todo seguirá encareciéndose ciertamente porque, en general, no hay mercancía en ninguna parte.
Volviendo a la dichosa “krościca” debes saber que al principio es difícil reconocerla ya que comienza como muchas otras dolencias: ardor del cuerpo y dolor general, a veces, no siempre, se regurgita todo el contenido del estómago. Solo al tercer o cuarto día aparecen forúnculos de color rojizo, amarillo o blanco, que asemejan pequeñas semillas de cebada bajo la piel. Como ya te he dicho, algunos de los que caen enfermos, no todos, mueren en diez días, aunque la mayoría recupera la salud lentamente, aunque con la piel de todo el cuerpo, y especialmente de la cara, surcada de heridas causadas por los forúnculos que escuecen. Estas heridas se cierran con el tiempo, pero cuando caen las costras, quedan (especialmente en la cara) repugnantes cicatrices que, quien sabe si algún día se alisarán. De modo que estate alerta, mi Enneleyn, mira bien en derredor y escucha atentamente lo que dice la gente, para saber a tiempo lo que se cuece, si los indicios de este padecimiento aparecieran en vuestra tierra, ¡qué digo, nuestra tierra!
Qué fácil me resulta aconsejarte que os encerréis en casa como en una fortaleza, mas, ¿acaso yo lo hago? ¡No, por supuesto que no! Tengo que ir a clases y repeticiones, aunque solo fuera para observar allí la completa impotencia de todo el estimado grupo de médicos muy sabios, rezando al mismo tiempo en lo profundo del alma para que no lleguen al consenso y prohíban los baños, hacia lo cual se inclinan muchos de ellos, frente a la expansión de la enfermedad. A mi tal decreto no me afectaría en demasía dado que, como sabes, suelo ir a bañarme a Kazimierz, donde el poder del consejo cracoviano no llega, pero aquí no se trata solo de mí. Te figurarás que no me apetece estar con la gente que prescinde de abluciones durante, quién sabe cuántas semanas.
Traducción: Amelia Serraller Calvo
Selected samples
She climbed her first peaks in a headscarf at a time when women in the mountains were treated by climbers as an additional backpack. It was with her that female alpinism began! She gained recognition in a spectacular way. The path was considered a crossing for madmen. Especially since the tragic accident in 1929, preserved … Continue reading “Halina”
First, Marysia, a student of an exclusive private school in Warsaw’s Mokotów district, dies under the wheels of a train. Her teacher, Elżbieta, tries to find out what really happened. She starts a private investigation only soon to perish herself. But her body disappears, and the only people who have seen anything are Gniewomir, a … Continue reading “Wound”
A young girl, Regina Wieczorek, was found dead on the beach. She was nineteen years old and had no enemies. Fortunately, the culprit was quickly found. At least, that’s what the militia think. Meanwhile, one day in November, Jan Kowalski appears at the police station. He claims to have killed not only Regina but also … Continue reading “Penance”
The year is 1922. A dangerous time of breakthrough. In the Eastern Borderlands of the Republic of Poland, Bolshevik gangs sow terror, leaving behind the corpses of men and disgraced women. A ruthless secret intelligence race takes place between the Lviv-Warsaw-Free City of Gdańsk line. Lviv investigator Edward Popielski, called Łysy (“Hairless”), receives an offer … Continue reading “A Girl with Four Fingers”
This question is closely related to the next one, namely: if any goal exists, does life lead us to that goal in an orderly manner? In other words, is everything that happens to us just a set of chaotic events that, combined together, do not form a whole? To understand how the concept of providence … Continue reading “Order and Love”
The work of Józef Łobodowski (1909-1988) – a remarkable poet, prose writer, and translator, who spent most of his life in exile – is slowly being revived in Poland. Łobodowski’s brilliant three- volume novel, composed on an epic scale, concerns the fate of families and orphans unmoored by the Bolshevik Revolution and civil war and … Continue reading “Ukrainian Trilogy: Thickets, The Settlement, The Way Back”