The Wanderess (25 page)

‘You will never make it on time, Saul. Too many stairs…
Too many to go down, too many to go up; and by the time you
make it to your girl’s room, Pulpawrecho will have had plenty of
time to do what he came for… to rape her.”

“To rape her?!”
My head swarmed with rage. The first
thought I had was to kill Dragomir then and there, to strangle him
with my bare hands, in my bare feet. But I knew I had no time, I
had to hurry to Saskia. I grabbed Dragomir by the throat and
threw him against the wall, then I turned to run out the door… I
didn’t get two steps, however. I heard him picking himself up
from the floor and the distinct ‘
click-clock’
of a loading gun.
Knowing that Dragomir was now pointing a revolver at me, I
stopped—my palms open, slowly, softly, and most carefully I
raised my hands above my shoulders. How ashamed I felt turning
around in submission with my hands raised, palms outwards like
a man who fears death. I had no doubt that Dragomir was going
to put a bullet in my head no matter how I took it. Yet when I
finally turned around to see that it was in fact a revolver that
Dragomir held in his hand, you can believe my shock to see he
wasn’t pointing the gun at me… rather,
he was giving the gun to
me!

“Now do you see what I’m saying about there being no
time to wait on the stairs?” he said, insisting I take the gun, “Here
you are son of Solarus, take this gun and go back to the window—
and keep your eyes peeled! Don’t miss a movement…”

I was struck dumb in astonishment, but I took the revolver
from Dragomir’s hand, thought for a moment to shoot him, then
walked back to the window where I aimed the barrel of the gun at
the lightless form of the women’s quarters across the courtyard.
Perfect timing… a light came on across the way. It beamed from
the window of my belovèd. Just as a flower unfolds to bloom,
Saskia’s room unfolded into a visible scene: Her door was opened,
light infused within from outside. So as a dark insect creeps its
feelers onto the fresh petals of a flower, so did the wretched
Pulpawrecho creep his miserable feelers into the soft innocence of
Saskia’s room. Just like Dragomir, he carried a lantern in front of
his face; and seeing his prey, he advanced slowly: short, rhythmic
steps, one by one.

Saskia who had been in her bed, apparently asleep,
jumped up the instant the light came in from the hall. The
instant Pulpawrecho came into sight, she gave a scream so sharp,
so high-pitched, that even from the other side of the courtyard, I
feared my ears would explode. Back on their side, in the women’s
quarters, the hunched-back, black silhouette of Pulpawrecho, set
his lantern down on a stool in her room to burn steady. This not
only to give light to his conquest, no doubt, but to free his hands
to devour his feast. Yet it also illustrated for us onlookers all of
the colors, tones and shapes of the two bodies—both the human
being, and the insect.

Saskia screamed again—and again—and then again. She
leapt onto her bed, backpedaled her bare legs toward the wall.
Her back was up against the wall at the back of her bed when
Pulpawrecho let drop his potato-sack dress to the floor to reveal
his own bandy pair of legs, and an erect, purple penis that
resembled the horn of a curly ram.

“Shoot now,” Dragomir whispered to me, “Shoot before he
gets too close to her, otherwise your girl will be in danger.”

And so I shot. The moment I saw Pulpawrecho drop his
brown twill robe, the moment I saw his genitals from forty paces
away, I fired a roar of bullets into Saskia’s room, pulling the
trigger:
once, twice, three times, then four!
Four bullets blew
Saskia’s room apart. Four bullets blew butterfly clouds of smoke
in the night air, leaving such trails through the courtyard that it
was impossible to see what I’d done.

There I stood with such fury, with such impatience, with
such terror!
There I stood at the window of our smoldering
hostelry. I stood waiting for the smoke to clear. I stood terrified
that Pulpawrecho had managed to harm the life of Saskia once he
recognized that his own life was in peril. But I considered his
nakedness, and saw no place he could hide a weapon. My
impatience and fury were due to the uncertainty that my shots hit
any flesh. Thus blinded by the smokescreens of my creation, and
deaf from the powder blasts, that wicked beast: Pulpawrecho, he
could have been violating the body of my friend, my child, my
sister, my wife, my spouse, my undefiled Saskia… safe from
anyone seeing or hearing anything.

It seemed to take forever for the smoke to clear. When
finally I could see across to the women’s quarters, I saw a ghost at
the window. She was a pale ghost, white like a gypsy in the
moonlight; though of course it was not a ghost but the body of
Saskia, alive and unharmed. She was standing in her white
nightgown, untorn and untarnished… She stood at her window
across the courtyard looking into my eyes, nodding her head
up
and down
… then again,
up and down,
then again,
up and down.
Then, keeping her head bowed, she raised her eyes to me, raised
her mouth and her spirit, all to show me eternal pleasure and
thanks for what I’d saved her from. The lantern that Pulpawrecho
had brought to her room was still burning. Light flooded Saskia’s
beautiful face as she smiled and closed her eyes. Then she opened
her eyes again, smiled at me more warmly than ever, and with her
summoning hand, she beckoned me to come to her room. She
appeared as ethereal as a cloud.

“Well done, son of Solarus… I think you just killed my
servant.”

I turned away from the window and pulled the curtain
closed. It didn’t instantly occur to me that I might have just killed
a man, or that somebody might come arrest me. As far as I was
concerned, all I’d done was to squash an insect who threatened to
blight a beautiful flower when she was just beginning to bloom. I
thought then of the smile Saskia had given me after it was over:
that eternal pleasure, she gave thanks for what I’d saved her from.

I looked then at Dragomir with a face of profound
confusion. I still held the gun close to me, not sure if I would
need to use again. It confused and surprised me that Dragomir
had helped me to kill his faithful Pulpawrecho. But what was to
stop him from surprising me by wanting me killed as well? I told
Dragomir that I didn’t understand… “Why did you do that,
Dragomir? Wasn’t he ‘the perfect servant!?’”

“He
was
the perfect servant,” Dragomir said, “Still, I
couldn’t risk losing you and your girl. You two interest me
infinitely more than Pulpawrecho ever could—even though,
he
was the perfect servant…
Beyond that, he was my friend. But
business is business, you two are crucial, whereas Pulpawrecho
was disposable.’’

“But why is it so?!”

“You’ll soon see, Saul… You’ll soon see everything. But for
now, let’s be quick! We need to cross the courtyard. We should
go upstairs to get your girlfriend, and to make sure that my
servant is defunct.”

“I can do it all alone.”
“Don’t be foolish. Take me with you. It will get messy if
the police come, I can help with that… poor Pulpawrecho.”

“You can’t help if the police come,” I told Dragomir,
“Everything will be clear if the police come. I am the one who has
fresh powder burns on his hand and wrist. That’s proof that I am
the one who shot the gun tonight. Still, that doesn’t mean I am
going to hand over the gun to you. I don’t trust you, Dragomir. I
am going to keep the gun as we go our separate ways.”

“That is very well!” he laughed, “Whoever told you that
you should trust me?! I am Dragomir!… a dishonest charlatan,
only out for his own gain! Yes, you would be a fool to trust me,
son of Solarus. And if you were a fool, I would be especially
dishonest with you. I don’t have the slightest respect for fools.”

I put the gun in my pocket and told Dragomir to go down
the stairs in front of me. Soon we passed the attendant where he
was tied-up in his box. We then ran through the women’s gate to
find Saskia.

She was standing by her window in the same place that I’d
seen her from my own window. But now she was no longer
nodding ‘yes’ with that ethereal smile playing on her lips. Now
she was standing at the window spouting waterfalls of tears. She
was breathing too fast for her heart, almost hyperventilating; still
in shock. Away from her view, on the floor between the bed and
the door, lay the corpse of Pulpawrecho. I looked back toward
Saskia and pronounced her name and she turned around quickly
and threw her arms around me. She turned her face to the side
and I waited for her breathing to slow down. After a few minutes
of her body pressed against mine, she was as calm as a lamb. It
was then that Dragomir entered the room. She looked at him
strangely at first. Then her eyes glazed over. She was held in a
trance.

“Come now, Clara, you look as though you don’t recognize
me.”
Saskia, hearing Dragomir address her like this, turned to
me… “What is he talking about?”
I shrugged my shoulders.

“You act like you don’t remember when we met, Clara. It
was four years ago in Málaga. You were only thirteen then. Yes,
you’ve changed a lot in these four years. But your basic features
are true as ever. Do you remember, Clara? You came to me one
night in Málaga to have your fortune read. You were lost in life
and needed help. So I gave you a sort of roadmap to follow.”

“Whatever you say, Monsieur. Still, my name is not Clara.
And I’ve never been to Málaga!”

“Oh, come now, gypsy girl!… I know you are the same girl
who came to me in Spain four years ago. You needed direction in
your life. So I told you what I knew about you and your future…
which was, by the way:
everything!
—so you go by the name of
Saskia now? That matters little to me. Today your name means
the same thing it meant back on that fateful night in Málaga:
‘clear, bright, and celebrated!’”

“Hmm,” Saskia frowned her brow… “I’m sorry to have to
end things like this, Monsieur… you are charming and very
agreeable… but I really am not your girl! My name is Saskia. It
means ‘from the Saxon people.’ It doesn’t mean ‘bright,
celebrated, famous, or any of that... So Please, Monsieur, Tell me
why you are here… Did you shoot this man?”

“It was your lover who shot him, and at quite a distance
too! He’s remarkable with a gun. The man who lies dead on your
floor is my servant. He wanted to rape you tonight. I knew this
beforehand, thus I came to furnish Saul with a pistol so he could
kill my servant. That, good lady, was one of the hardest decisions
I ever had to make, please never forget that, Clara—or ‘Saskia.’ I
loved my servant. Dearly, I did. Never will another man walk this
earth who will be as loyal to me as my dear Pulpawrecho who lies
here only to rot and nourish worms…

“Why did I do it?, you might ask. The answer:
Pulpawrecho has already experienced enough of the world. He
lived what you’d call
a life.
His death today means very little in
the grand scheme of things. Clara, I know that you are young and
pure. Why should I let my servant who destroys all he touches
take it upon himself to destroy you too? What I mean to say is,
you have never been in love with a man before; although I feel this
is a sensation that is beginning to form in you towards Saul. So
why should I let my perfect servant take it upon himself to spoil
and tarnish the sweet innocence that belongs to you now and only
at this one time in your life?—when it’s gone, it’s gone forever.
But now, don’t take me for a poet! I had other reasons why I
wanted Pulpawrecho dead and out of the way. His murder was
his destiny. I, myself, read it in his hand the last time he
consulted me as a clairvoyant. It was written. Wrechito is gone,
and you are saved …but don’t waste time, Saul and Saskia… Make
haste! I urge you to both to leave the quarter right away, never to
return. The police will be looking for you in this neighborhood
tonight, you hear?”

“We don’t have any money,” Saskia said, “but we need to
move, Saul! Here we are hanging around in a hostelry with a dead
body that you shot, in my room. We can’t discuss our plans with
this complete stranger.”

“He’s not a stranger to me,” I told Saskia, “I met Dragomir
the clairvoyant at his home in Málaga. And it seems we’ve been
seeing each other ever since.”

“What?!” Saskia cried, “You met him before? …in Málaga?!
And the dead man who wanted to rape me, you met him too?!”

“Yes, him too. In Málaga as well. I met them both the
same night. I’ll tell you about it sometime, but not right now; we
need to find a place of exile right away!.”

“Saul,” said Dragomir with a giant grin on his face, “When
you tell your Saskia about the night you met me and Pulpawrecho,
don’t forget to tell her about the person who brought Pulpy to
me…
that certain girl whose name means ‘clear, bright, and
celebrated.’”

“My name is not ‘Clara!’” Saskia screamed.
“Oh, so you admit that it was
you
who brought
Pulpawrecho to me.”
“I never even met that dead man in my life!”

This was going on too long. “Let’s go,” I said, “Dragomir,
you wanted to check the body. Do it quick or we’ll leave without
you.”

Dragomir went over to look at his dead friend and servant.
“You know,” he said, “Pulpawrecho looks better now than he did
when he was alive.

I quickly inspected the body. I saw that three of my four
shots hit him. Two bullets were in his shoulder, and one was in
the side of his head. Saskia, who had a strong distaste for death,
waited at the door.

Outside on the street, we started walking towards the
Seine. We went undisturbed, we saw no sign of anyone having
sent for the police. It seemed just as well in that quarter. The
neighbors probably don’t want to mix themselves up in anything
when a few gunshots are heard at the hour before dawn.