Yes, you could: inherently, these two histories cannot exist without each other. And here, O Arseny, what is important is that the end of the world for each individual person will come a few decades after birth—each gets however much time is allotted. (Ambrogio leaned toward the horse’s neck and exhaled into his mane.) The overall end of the world worries me, as you know, but I do not dread it. Meaning I dread it no more than my own death.
The road was now wider and the merchant Vladislav pulled up alongside them.
I heard you were talking about death, said the merchant. You Russians really love talking about death. And it distracts you from getting on with your lives.
Ambrogio shrugged.
So, do people just not die in Poland? asked Arseny.
The merchant Vladislav scratched the back of his head. There was a doubtful expression on his face.
Of course they die, but ever less and less frequently.
He spurred his horse and galloped to the head of the caravan. Arseny and Ambrogio silently watched him.
I keep thinking about what you said about time, said Arseny. Do you remember how long the forefathers lived? Adam lived 930 years, Seth 912, and Methuselah 969. So tell me, is time truly not a blessing?
Time is more likely a curse, for it did not exist in Heaven, O Arseny. The forefathers lived that long because a heavenly timelessness still glowed on their faces. It was as if they had grown used to time, see? They had a little eternity in themselves, too. And then their age began to decrease. And when the pharaoh asked the elder Jacob how old he was, Jacob answered: the dayes of my pilgremage are an hundred and thirty yeres. Few and evil have bene the dayes of my lyfe, not attayning the dayes of the yeres of my fathers’ pilgremage.
But Ambrogio, you are speaking of general history that you consider predestined. Perhaps that is how things really are. But personal history is something entirely different. A person is not born ready-made. He studies, analyzes his experience, and builds his personal history. He needs time for that.
Ambrogio placed a hand on Arseny’s shoulder.
O friend, I do not question the necessity of time. We simply need to remember that only the material world needs time.
But we can only act in the material world, said Arseny. That is where the difference lies now between me and Ustina. And I need time, at least for her, if not for both of us. I, Ambrogio, am very afraid that time might end. We are not ready for that, neither she nor I.
Nobody is ready for that, Ambrogio quietly said.
The caravan reached Zhitomir a few days later. After leaving Zhitomir, it headed for Zaslav. From Zaslav its path lay to Kremenets. When they left Kremenets, the merchant Vladislav said:
The Kingdom of Poland begins after this.
He pronounced this so loudly and slowly that those around him turned. They wanted to expect something special from the Kingdom of Poland: after all, this was the first kingdom to appear along the caravan’s route. The mood was animated. The caravan was making progress but the same forest, fields, and lakes that had been accompanying the wayfarers along their route continued to stretch along both sides of the road. Some of them supposed the forests, fields, and lakes were already different. Others, though, noticed a resemblance to what they had seen earlier and explained it by saying the Kingdom of Poland had not yet begun.
Night found the caravan in a deserted territory and nobody, including the merchant Vladislav, was capable of determining if this was already Poland or still Lithuania. A group of horsemen galloped past the caravan. They asked the horsemen what land the caravan was in but they did not know or did not want to answer. These were fairly gloomy horsemen.
They stopped in a field by a forest and built fires. Arseny and Ambrogio ended up by the same fire as the merchant Vladislav and the guardian Vlasy. Before lying down to sleep, the guardian Vlasy asked those present if there exist people with dogs’ heads. The guardian was young and loved edifying conversations.
In traveling east from Rus’, said Ambrogio, the Italian monk Giovanni da Pian del Carpine saw many of those people. Or was told about them, which, of course, is not the same thing.
The merchant Vladislav cleared his throat and joined the conversation.
In the Kingdom of Poland, people have been seen who have a completely human appearance but the ends of their feet were like a bull’s and even though the head was human, the face was like a dog’s, and they would say two words like a human but yelp the third like a dog.
The Kingdom of Poland is extremely interesting, said Ambrogio, and we can only regret that we are passing through without making any lengthy stops.
They have also seen people, the merchant Vladislav went on, whose ears are so great they cover their entire body.
Arseny involuntarily looked at the merchant Vladislav’s ears. They were not so very small, either, but it would be impossible to cover oneself with them.
The guardian Vlasy asked:
And are there people in the Kingdom of Poland who live only by smell? I’ve heard tell about them.
The Kingdom of Poland has everything, replied the merchant Vladislav. There are people with small stomachs and small mouths: they do not eat meat, they only boil it. After boiling up the meat, they lie down on the pot, soak up the steam, and sustain themselves with only that.
And what? marveled the guard Vlasy. Do they not eat anything at all?
If they eat, it is not much at all, the merchant said modestly.
The fire burned down and nobody added any new wood. Everyone, including the guardian Vlasy, began settling in to sleep. Vlasy was not on guard duty that night. The other fires went out, too, little by little, all but one, where several guardians sat. They were supposed to keep vigil until morning. A while later that fire went out, too.
Arseny pulled up some soft grass and ferns and piled them into a bed. He placed his saddle at the head. The saddle smelled of leather and horse sweat. This was especially unpleasant on a sultry night. A vague sense of alarm was entering into his soul. A full moon shone into his eyes. Arseny began turning on his side but then the saddle pressed on his cheekbone. He hesitated and turned onto his back again.
Saddles were invented for a different spot, whispered Ambrogio when he saw how Arseny was settling in. I have something a little better.
He held out a wide, soft sash for Arseny. Arseny wanted to refuse it at first but stopped himself in time. He ached with a feeling of gratitude toward Ambrogio, for looking after him. Arseny lay and thought he was, for the first time in so many years, not alone. He could feel how much he had tired of his loneliness. He began weeping. And went to sleep in tears.
Arseny dreamt of screams. The screams were simultaneously warlike and blood-curdling. It was clear to Arseny that various people were producing them. It was possible they were not even people. Perhaps they were the forces fighting over Ustina. Two opposing forces pulling the soul of the deceased in various directions.
Arseny opened his eyes and knew he had not dreamt the screams. They were coming from the far end of the field where their camp had been pitched. Arseny saw guardian Vlasy run past him, unstrapping the battle ax from his belt. The guardian was running to the place the screams were coming from. Everything in the air was still drenched in darkness and it had only begun to brighten in the east, the direction from which the caravan had come.