After that, they often ran across the wolf in the forest. The wolf sat beside them when they ate lunch. Christofer tossed him pieces of bread and the wolf would catch them in the air, his teeth clattering. He stretched out on the grass and pensively stared straight ahead. When the grandfather and grandson returned home, the wolf escorted them right to the house. Sometimes he spent the night in the yard and the three of them would set out together in the morning to look for plants.
When Arseny grew tired, Christofer would sit him in a canvas bag on his back. An instant later he would feel Arseny’s cheek on his neck and understand the boy was sleeping. Christofer stepped, gently, on the warm summer moss. With the hand not carrying his basket, he straightened the straps on his shoulders and shooed flies away from the sleeping boy.
At home Christofer pulled burrs from Arseny’s long hair and sometimes washed his hair with lye. He made the solution from maple leaves and the white herb called Enoch, which they gathered together in the low hills. The solution made Arseny’s golden hair as soft as silk. It gleamed in the sun. Christofer wove leaves of garden angelica into his hair, so people would love him. While he did so, he recognized that people loved Arseny anyway.
An appearance from the child cheered people up. All the residents of Rukina Quarter felt it. When they took Arseny by the hand, they did not want to let it go. When they kissed his hair, they felt as if they had drunk from a deep, fresh spring. There was something in Arseny that eased lives that were anything but simple. And people were grateful to him.
Before bed, Christofer told the child about Solomon and the Centaur. They both knew this story by heart but always appreciated it as if they were hearing it for the first time.
When the Centaur was brought to Solomon, he saw a person buying himself boots. The Centaur began laughing when the person wanted to know if the boots would last for seven years. As he walked further, the Centaur saw a wedding and began weeping. Solomon asked the Centaur why he was laughing.
I sawe on that person, said the Centaur, that live he will not until the seventh day.
And Solomon asked the Centaur why he was weeping.
How sad am I, said the Centaur, that live this groom will not until the thirtieth day.
The boy once said:
I do not understand why the Centaur laughed. Because he knew the person would be resurrected?
I do not know. I am not sure.
Christofer himself also felt it would have been better if the Centaur had not laughed.
Christofer placed purple loosestrife under Arseny’s pillow so he would fall asleep easily. Which is why Arseny fell asleep easily. And his dreams were placid.
At the start of the second septenary of years in Arseny’s life, his father brought the boy to Christofer.
Rukina Quarter is restless, said the father, people await the plague scourge. Let the boy stay here, far from everyone.
You may stay, too, Christofer offered, and your wife.
I have, O father, grain to reap. Where will we find foode in winter? Arseny’s father just shrugged his shoulders.
Christofer crushed some hot sulfur and gave it to him so they could drink it later at home, with egg yolk, washed down with rosehip juice. He ordered them not to open the windows and to lay a fire with oak logs in the yard every morning and evening. When the coals begin smoldering, toss wormwood, juniper, and rue on them. That is all. That is all that can be done. Christofer sighed. Guard thyself against this sorrow, O son.
Arseny began crying as he watched his father walk to his cart. How short he was, walking with a springing gait. After half-sitting on the side of the cart, he tosses his feet onto the hay. Takes the reins and makes a kissing sound to the horse. The horse snorts, jerks its head, and gently sets off. The hooves make a muffled sound on the tamped earth. His father rocks a bit. Turns back and waves. Diminishes in size and merges with the cart. Turns into a dot. Disappears.
Why wepest thou? Christofer asked the boy.
I perceave on him the sign of death, answered the boy.
He cried for seven days and seven nights. Christofer was silent because he knew Arseny was right. He had also seen the sign. And knew, too, that his herbs and words were powerless here.
At noon on the eighth day, Christofer took the boy by the hand and they set off for Rukina Quarter. It was a clear day. They walked, not trampling any grass and not raising any dust. As if they were on tiptoes, as if entering a room where someone was deceased. On the approach to Rukina Quarter, Christofer took a root of garden angelica soaked in wine vinegar and broke it into two pieces. He took half for himself, giving half to Arseny.
Here, hold this in your mouth. God’s power is with us.
The settlement greeted them with the howling of dogs and the lowing of cows. Christofer knew those sounds well, they could not be confused with anything. This was the music of the plague. Grandfather and grandson slowly walked along the street but only dogs rushed to see them, pulling at their chains. There were no people. As they neared Arseny’s house, Christofer said:
Walk no further. There is death in the air here.
The boy nodded because he saw death’s wings. They hovered over the house. They quivered over the ridge of the roof like warm air.
Christofer crossed himself and entered the yard. Sheaves of unthreshed wheat lay near the fence. The door into the house was open, its gaping rectangle looking sinister under the August sun. Of all the colors that day, it had absorbed into itself only blackness. All possible blackness and cold. What could remain among the living after ending up in there? Christofer hesitated and took a step toward the door.
Stop, a voice rang out from the darkness.
This voice reminded him of his son’s voice. But only reminded him. As if someone, not his son, was using that voice. Not trusting the voice, Christofer took another step toward the door.
Stop or I will kill you.
A crash rang out in the darkness and a hammer knocked against the door jamb as if it had tumbled out of someone’s hand.
Let me examine you, Christofer rasped.
He felt a lump in his throat.
We already died, the voice said. And we have nothing to do with the living. That Arseny may live, do not enter.
Christofer stopped. He felt a vein pulsating on his temple and understood his son spoke the truth.
Something to drink, Arseny’s mother moaned from the darkness.
Mama, Arseny shouted and dashed into the house.
He ladled water from a wooden bucket and gave it to his mother, who had fallen from a bench. He kissed her jelly-like face but it was as if she were sleeping and could not open her eyes. His palms could feel the inflamed nodes in her armpits when he tried to pick her up off the floor.
My son, I can no longer wake up...
Arseny’s father’s hand seized him and flung him toward the threshold. It was Christofer who dragged Arseny away. Arseny shouted as he had never before shouted, but nobody in the quarter heard him. When silence came, he saw his father’s dead body on the threshold.