One December morning in 1455, contrary to his usual habit, Christofer did not leave his bed. He raised himself up and sat on the bed but had no strength to move further. Christofer told those who came to him for certain matters:
Speake not to me of the earthly, for I have no more in common with the living. My weakening members give no doubt of anything excepte quick death and the Savior’s Judgment Day in a future tyme.
And the visitors left.
Toward midday, Arseny helped Christofer go out to the facilities. Only then did he grasp that the old man was already almost unable to walk. Arseny cast Christofer’s arm across his shoulder and dragged him across the yard. Christofer’s legs trailed behind him, powerless. They kept moving, taking turns, as if by old habit, and scraping at the freshly fallen snow. After returning to the house, Arseny asked:
What shall I get you, Grandfather?
Let me catch my breath, child. Christofer was sitting, hunched, on the edge of the bed. Perspiration had formed on his forehead. Let me catch my breath.
Lie down, Grandfather.
Yf I lie down, I will die at that very hour.
Do not die, Grandfather, for I will be left alone on this earth.
And therfore, child, mortal fear took hold upon me. My heart is breaking and I am crushed to leave you, but I cast my sorrow on the Lord, as the prophet says. From this time on, He will be your grandfather. Beholde, therefore I shall leave this world, O Arseny. Heal people with herbs, for you, too, shall make a living from this. But better yet, enter the monastery, you will be ther a lampe unto the Lord. Will you do as I say?
Do not die, Grandfather. Do not die… Arseny breathed in and choked.
But what am I supposed to do, Christofer shouted, with the last of his strength, if I shall die as soon as I lie down?
I will prop you up, Grandfather.
For three days and two nights, Christofer sat on the bed, one foot lowered to the floor, the other stretched along the bench. Arseny helped him maintain his sitting position. He propped up his grandfather’s back with his own back and he regulated his grandfather’s heartbeat with his own heart. And restored his quickening breathing to normal. The boy only absented himself a few times, to have a quick drink of water and use the facilities. On the third day, Elder Nikandr came from the monastery and ordered Arseny to go outside for a while. He sat with Christofer for a fairly long time. As he left, he saw how Arseny propped Christofer up. He said:
Let him go, O Arseny. It is because of you that he lacks the courage to leave.
But Arseny only leaned his back even harder into his grandfather’s back.
Keep vigil with him until midnight, said the elder, and then let him go.
At around midnight, Arseny thought Christofer was feeling better and that his breathing was not so labored. Arseny saw his grandfather’s smile, surprised he could see it with his back. He felt relief as he watched his grandfather walk around the room and touch the bunch of immortelle hanging in the corner. This made all the herbs hanging under the ceiling sway. The ceiling itself swayed, too. As he stroked the sleeping boy’s cheek, Christofer told the Lord:
Into Thy hands, I comende my spirite; have mercy on me and grant me eternal life. Amen.
He crossed himself, laid down beside his grandson, and closed his eyes.
Arseny awoke early in the morning. He looked at Christofer, lying beside him. He inhaled all the available air in the house and shouted. When Elder Nikandr heard this shout at the monastery, he told Arseny:
There is no need to shout so loudly, for his passing was peaceful.
When people in the quarter heard Arseny’s shout, they set aside their day-to-day cares and headed toward Christofer’s house. Their healed bodies preserved memories of Christofer’s good deeds.
And so began the first day without Christofer, and Arseny wept away the first half of that day. He looked at the arriving residents of the quarter but his tears washed away their faces. Worn by grief, Arseny went to sleep during the second half of the day.
By the time he awoke, it was already night. He began weeping again when he remembered that Christofer was now gone. Christofer was lying on the bench, where a candle stood at his head. Another candle illuminated the Eternal Book, which had formerly lain on a shelf. Elder Nikandr held the candle. He stood with his back to Christofer and Arseny, and read the Book to the icons in a muffled voice.
Here, read for a while, said the elder without turning, and I’ll sleep a bit. And be a pal, enough with that howling.
Arseny took the candle from the elder’s hands and stood before the Book. He saw out of the corner of his eye how the elder settled in on the bench alongside Christofer after moving him slightly. Lines from the Psalms kept floating before his eyes and his voice did not obey him. Arseny cleared his throat and began to read. Thou shalt treade upon the Basilisk and Adder, the yonge Lyon and the Dragon shalt thou trample under thy fete. Arseny read and thought about how Christofer might need to undertake the same actions. Arseny turned to Elder Nikandr.
Who is this Basilisk?
But the elder was sleeping. He was lying shoulder to shoulder with Christofer and both had their arms folded on their chests. Their noses dimly gleamed in the candlelight. Both were identically motionless, and both seemed dead. Arseny, however, knew Christofer was the only one of them who was dead. Nikandr’s temporary necrosis was a display of solidarity. In order to support Christofer, he had decided to take the first steps into death with him. Because the first steps are the most difficult.
Christofer’s funeral took place the next day. When they had filled the grave with earth, Elder Nikandr said:
After spending the days of his life in the house by the cemetery, he will spend the days of his death in the cemetery by the house. I am convinced that the deceased will only welcome this type of symmetry.
The cemetery was quiet. It had been visited rarely since the time of the last plague because those who had gone there before now dwelled in other places. Christofer’s repose had become all-embracing after his move to the cemetery.
After the funeral, grateful residents from the quarter invited Arseny to move in with them, but Arseny refused.
Christofer’s memory, he said, should be preserved in his last place of residence, which he had fixed up to the best of his abilities. Here, said Arseny, each wall preserves the warmth of his gaze and the scratchiness of his touch. How, one might ask, could I leave this place?
They did not dissuade him. To some extent, it was easier for them that he stay in Christofer’s house. This way, the physician’s familiar and customary abode remained intact. By continuing to give out needed remedies from Christofer’s home, Arseny himself quietly became Christofer in people’s eyes. And even the journey the villagers had to take to receive the medicine was worthwhile because of the firm realization that everything was remaining in its proper place.
That realization immediately simplified the relationships between the doctor and his patients. Men and the women all disrobed in front of Arseny with the same ease they had formerly disrobed in front of Christofer. Sometimes it seemed to Arseny that the women did so even more easily than the men; he would then experience uneasiness. In the beginning, he touched their flesh with the tips of his finger, but soon after—this was about ill flesh, after all—he would place his entire palm on their flesh without agitation, even squeezing and kneading, if necessary.