A Swarm of Dust Page 7

  As they went across the field towards the solitary house, Janek thought that the dogs might have been disturbed by the moon. That’s what farmers always said, and that night the moon was much brighter than usual. He looked at it. It wasn’t full, there was a deep bite out of the right side. Around the illuminated part floated a pinkish halo that also slightly covered the moon’s surface. The sky was completely clear; to the south, over the plain, there was a bluish haze and to the north patchy clouds that were not moving anywhere. The night was so unusually light that it disturbed him. It was as if the light originated from an invisible sun, not from the hazy crescent moon. The bluish haze to the south also bothered him, it kept arousing confused associations that he was violently trying to resist. His thoughts returned to the dogs that barked unnecessarily at night and he began to think about this canine habit in order to halt the flow of unpleasant images. He had the feeling that any kind of memory could transform him in a moment and the whole sense of purpose inside him would collapse, since that evening everything was decided inside him. He was calm, he knew exactly what was going to happen and he had resigned himself to this without knowing why he wanted to take part. In reality, this wasn’t his conscious will, it was something else altogether. He felt an unusual humility before this young woman, before Emma, he bent himself to her will, he was convinced that he had no choice. He didn’t know that this was just an excuse for his inability to resist and free himself from her.

  They crossed the stubble to get to the isolated house at the lower end of the village, then came upon an orchard that lay above the house and rose up the slope. A grass strip ran down the hill. Beside it on the slope were the dark outlines of three poplars. The grass strip ran straight towards the illuminated yard, and was separated from the orchard by a low hedge. Emma gestured for him to jump over. Then she whispered to him what he needed to do. He had to wait for her by the alders, where they had stood before, where the ground descended in steps, she would be quick. Then she went down the grass, across the yard and knocked on the door.

  He moved lower in the thick, long grass, crouched down behind an apple tree and listened. Silence. Emma once again banged on the door. It rattled. Once more all was silent for a moment. Then there was a creaking sound and a man’s voice said something. The door slammed, a key turned – silence. Then the light in the yard went out. The darkness slowly dissipated and the moonlight fell where before there had been electric light. The grass in the orchard was very high, it had not been mown yet, the apple trees were very close together, with low branches, some hanging down to the ground.

  He crossed the wet grass, which soaked his trousers to the knees, and approached the rear of the house, then crouched down behind a dung heap. The back part of the house had a thatched roof that was disproportionately high compared to the walls, as if a small child had pulled a grown-up’s hat onto its head. This place was surely the stables that Emma had referred to. A motorbike roared along the road, and he saw the beam of light go past behind the house. The noise receded to the north. Silence again. A long silence. His legs hurt from crouching. He looked up the hill, at the poplars, then again across the dung heap, towards the door.

  Then there was a rattling noise, a key turned, the door creaked open, a beam of light fell across the yard as far as the dung heap. Janek flattened himself against the ground. Someone laughed in the house. A wooden cover creaked, footsteps went down to the cellar. Silence. The footsteps returned, the wooden cover fell, the light vanished, a key turned – again silence. That’s what Emma had said: someone will go to the cellar for wine, then there’ll be no one, and then …

  The orchard widened to the right, there were cherry and plum trees packed close together, before the road there was a high hedge that had not been trimmed, following the wall of the house. He quietly moved past the back of the stable. At the end of the wall, where the rear part of the house joined the front, there was a window. A light shone through it. The grass here was cut. He wouldn’t need to go so far, just up to … but then he threw himself to the ground. A dog was barking in the yard. It must have been a big one, since its bark was deep and hoarse. When it had barked twice it let out a growl, then it sounded like a chain was being dragged along the ground; evidently it was chained up, just as Emma had said.

  When the dog fell silent, Janek did not move for some time. He raised his eyes and felt for the part of the roof that reached beyond the wall of the house. Yes, there were two beams there and an opening in between through which hay could be thrown into the hayloft in the summer. Beneath this opening a wooden door had been built into the wall, closing the entrance to the barn. This door had strong horizontal laths. He silently climbed up and rolled through the opening into the hayloft, which had a strong aroma of hay. On the right, Emma had said; there was a way through the wooden barrier, then a chimney and next to it a hatch. He crawled across, the hay quietly rustling. Soon he felt the wooden barrier and a wooden handle, the hinges creaked and he stopped breathing. He slowly pushed, but it creaked, so he froze.

  He held his breath. Nothing happened. He crawled to the other side. He felt around in the dark and touched the brick chimney. He embraced its rectangular mass. Then he leaned over and felt on the floor. Only dust. He turned more to the left. Finally his fingers made contact with a wooden hatch and a chain for raising it. He took a few deep breaths. It struck him that it would be worse for him the more he lingered. When his blood stopped pulsing in his head he took hold of the chain and slightly raised the hatch. There was a ladder beneath, leading to a lit hallway. Nothing. He raised the hatch further and leaned it against the chimney. He put his foot on the first rung. Silence. Then the next rung. A cat meowed in the attic. The noise struck him in the chest like a knife. He began to feel afraid. The cat fell quiet. Onwards. His heart was pounding. Forwards. He was in the hallway. The door to a room.

  Now he felt terror. He could no longer control it. His head was buzzing. He was inside the room, he felt for the switch and turned on the light, he looked around and there was the cupboard. The bottom drawer. He pulled from his pocket the key Emma had given him. He inserted it and turned it, the drawer creaked, he snatched the package from the right corner, closed the drawer, locked it, rushed to turn off the light, then he was on the ladder and in the hayloft, he grabbed the chain, it slipped and the hatch fell! A loud crash echoed through the house.

  He felt a chill run down his spine and threw himself down blindly. He found himself in the hay. Below someone was talking loudly, the hatch was raised and a torch shone at the other side of the loft, where there was all sorts of junk. Some planks of wood were leaning against the roof.

  ‘What is it?’ someone asked from below.

  ‘The cat knocked over a plank!’ came a deep voice from the loft. The light flashed and the hatch fell. The voices below fell silent.

  For quite some time Janek crouched in the hay. There was a kind of mental and emotional chaos within him. Only after a while did he realise that he needed to get away. He scuttled across the hay like a rat, through the opening and down the ladder. A light was shining through the window among the plum trees. He felt inclined to see what was going on inside, and hurried over to the window, standing on tiptoe to see inside. In front of the window was a table with a bottle, some spilled wine, glasses. Further away, against the wall, was a bed. On it lay Emma, pulling her skirt up over her thighs. A tall, thin man was standing in the middle of the room, fastening his trousers, another stood by the door. These were the Klemars. Janek had never seen them from close up. The thought flashed through his mind that they were extremely ugly. Once more he fixed his eyes on Emma, who rolled to the edge of the bed and put her bare feet on the floor. Her hair was tousled. Then he hurled himself away from the window, across the orchard, across the stubble. A dog barked after him. He rushed up the hill.

  He fell into the darkness among the acacias. From the valley came a tumult of voices. Before his eyes large round lights flashed on and off, they kept bursting
and flying through the air. Then there were lines of falling snow. Strange images were woven inside him. He uprooted a large tree and kicked it into the air, ran across the river and water beneath his feet felt hard. Then he was buried in gravel. The leaden noise ceased, darkness came, the silence resounded slightly in a metallic kind of way. It was steady and seemed to last forever. And then it burst. Emma was crouching beside him.

  ‘Did you bring it? Did you bring it?’ she asked, grabbing hold of him. She snatched the parcel of money from him and stuffed it inside her blouse. She was breathing deeply, exhausted. Suddenly she threw herself back and opened her arms wide. ‘Now you can,’ she said, gasping for breath. ‘Janek!’

  He didn’t move.

  ‘Are you going to, or not?’ she hissed impatiently, raising herself up slightly. Then she lowered herself again. ‘The ground is cold. I’m cold. Be quick!’

  She pulled up her skirt and spread her legs. ‘Can’t you see I’m waiting? Stick it in! Can’t you do it, or what?’

  She sat and stared at him strangely. Tears were running down his face as he looked at the valley. He was trembling.

  ‘You said you’d like to. I’m here, you can have me. In the future, too. Whenever you want. What are you howling for, you’re not a kid any more … ’

  Her voice had become a whisper. A strange fear was emanating from him. As if she felt he was ashamed, afraid. She wanted to help him, and reached for him briskly in order to undress him …

  ‘Leave me alone! Leave me alone!’

  The yell that was torn from him expressed such anger; it was so hoarse and loud, that it turned her aside.

  ‘I don’t want to!’ he yelled again.

  She hadn’t often heard him speak and did not know his voice, but in that moment it seemed to her horrendous. She didn’t understand what it meant, what was wrong, what she had done, what she should have done. She sat there dumbly, shaking.

  ‘Everyone else would like to and I won’t let them, but you … you don’t want to? But I’d like to do it with you, I really would … ’

  He emitted a throaty, discordant laugh, the laugh of a grown man. Emma unthinkingly turned round to see if anyone else was nearby, for it seemed to her impossible that such a child could laugh in that way. But she saw he was trembling as if the laugh was shaking him deep inside.

  Then he leaped to his feet and ran up the hill.

  She rushed after him. Higher up, on the grass strip, he fell. He pounded the earth with his fists. She threw herself upon him.

  ‘Janek, take me, I said! Otherwise I’ll be angry, I’ll cry. Do you hear me?’

  ‘Leave me alone!’ he screamed. ‘You already did it with them. Isn’t that enough?’

  ‘You saw?’ She crouched down and was quiet for a moment.

  Then she threw herself on him once more.

  ‘Janek, I had to. What are you thinking of? You knew it would be like that. How else could you have taken the money? You’re strange…’

  Her voice quivered. Then she whimpered and whispered in his ear:

  ‘Janek, my little Janek! Don’t be offended. I’ll be yours, I won’t go with them anymore if you’re angry. Do you hear, Janek, I’d like to do it with you. I’d like to!’

  ‘Go away,’ he howled. ‘I don’t care about them! I don’t care!’

  ‘I don’t want to,’ he said more quietly, after a short pause. ‘I don’t want to.’ Then his eyes scoured her face. ‘Why do you do it? Do you enjoy it?’

  She looked at him, startled. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘No!’ They stared at each other. ‘I’m scared.’

  ‘What of?’

  ‘I’m afraid.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Silence.

  And then he sprang up and hit her. Her face, her breasts. He fell on her, biting and kicking and throwing punches.

  ‘Janek!’ she cried out.

  She freed herself, rolled away and got up. ‘Why are you beating me?’

  He looked at her in horror. ‘Don’t you like it?’

  ‘You fool!’ She darted up the hill as if she had seen a ghost.

  She was already far off when he heard her panting and muttering frightened words. She fell and got up again. Then she vanished.

  They came three days later. Emma was taken away. The next day they came for him. He met Emma again in a room with a long table, behind which sat a fat, red-faced man in a blue uniform. Two more of them stood by the door. He’d often seen such people before. But now they had come for him, directly for him. It was hot in the room, and flies were buzzing here and there. It also smelled of varnish, as if the door had just acquired a new layer. The Klemars entered.

  ‘Lad!’ said the fat man at the table. He had a dumb look about him that radiated laziness. He was breathing heavily.

  ‘Lad!’ he repeated. ‘Do you know the farmer Klemar and his brother, here present?’

  Janek nodded.

  ‘Do you know Emma Baranja, gypsy, here present?’

  He nodded again.

  ‘Listen!’ The chubby man raised his voice slightly. ‘If you tell us the truth, you can go home immediately and nothing will happen to you. Understand?’

  Janek nodded.

  ‘Emma Baranja,’ the man continued, ‘gypsy, here present, is suspected of stealing money from the farmer Klemar. She is accused by Klemar and his brother. When questioned, Emma Baranja denied stealing the money.’ Here he fell silent for a moment and stared for some time at the papers in front of him. ‘She said it was like this … You stopped her in the woods when she was returning from the village and you persuaded her to … with you … you know very well what I mean … and you offered her money, quite a lot of money. She asked where you got it from and you said you stole it from Klemar. She grabbed the money from your hand intending to run off, but you attacked her and wanted to … by force … and she barely managed to escape. She wanted to return the money to Klemar. Now lad, you tell us if all this is true. Otherwise you’ll receive a good hiding, you understand?’

  The man struck his fist so hard on the table that the whole room shook. Janek felt a chill.

  ‘Come on lad! Did it all happen as Emma Baranja claims?’

  Janek nodded mechanically.

  The fat man’s face beamed with satisfaction and victory. He puffed himself up, as if he had won a great victory.

  ‘How old are you, lad?’ he said with a gentle voice.

  ‘Fifteen,’ said Janek, hollowly.

  ‘Fifteen,’ repeated the man. ‘I can’t lock you up because you’re too young. We’ll have to punish your mother, we heard that you don’t have a father. We wanted to send you to an institute for young offenders, but it sounds as if you are good at school – probably a mistake if you ask me, but that’s what the teachers say. And the priest spoke up for you, although we don’t place any great weight on what the priest says … and some farmer up there, name of Geder, stood bail for you. He says he’ll send you to the town so you can study. That’s of course nothing to do with us … Geder will answer for any offence you commit. You understand, lad?’

  Someone touched his arm. He turned.

  No one.

  PART TWO

  Seven years later, in Ljubljana, he was walking towards the castle that seemed to float in the air like a silhouette, but he wasn’t entirely convinced that he was walking along the road. He could feel firm ground beneath his feet, while alongside him ran hazy lines that might have been the edges of the road, yet his sense of the hardness beneath his feet came and went. One moment it was stronger, the next it faded, and at times it disappeared altogether. Then he felt nothing. There was a mist before his eyes, in his ears. His thoughts were sinking as into a deep swamp: not a muddy one; more like quicksand. The only thing he could register was the fluctuating rise and fall of the temperature of his blood. It swung from incredible heat to intense cold, and was different in different parts of his body at the same time. As if he had his right hand in boiling water, his left ha
nd in ice. And so he could neither evaluate the strength of his feelings nor identify their exact location.

  He had no sense of time and could not determine how long this absence lasted, this sinking into his own blood. When the temperature fluctuations stabilised, he first of all felt his hearing becoming clearer. He could hear a church choir in the distance, accompanied by an organ, it sounded hollow, as if echoing off the walls of a deep well. The music flowed over him like the waves of hot and cold had before, then it began to settle and intensify, to float. And then the organ keys came to the fore, louder and sharper and crisper. Finally it was all repeated in an even tone. Then there was a sound like human steps. As the sound came nearer, it seemed to him again that he was walking along the road and the hollow steps he could hear were his own.

  Almost at the same time, his sight began to clear. The mist condensed into patches and withdrew: to the left and right there were sometimes pulses of flashing light. He thought perhaps they were puddles and that sunlight was reflecting off their surface. But the mist did not lift completely, so he saw nothing with any clarity. The world intruded on him, but not as sharply as to awaken his tired, sunken thoughts. He had a slight feeling that things were moving in a particular direction, that they were going only forwards and not backwards or in many different directions at once. Objects swam around him like balloons, floating above and behind him, circling, approaching and retreating, sometimes seeming to swarm together. The whole time his perceptions remained coarse, hazy. Nothing around him changed, but rather moved at a certain distance, and if they did come nearer they did so only as outlines, never clearly visible. He perceived the reality around him, but found no connection between the outlines and himself. It was as if he was excluded from the real world; as if he could not touch things; as if he was floating on his own, to an extent determined by the flow of his blood, and that things were also floating independently, without contact with him, remaining outside him.