What sign do you want and what knowledge? asked an elder standing by the Empty Tomb. Do you not know that any journey harbors danger within itself? Any journey—and if you do not acknowledge this, then why move? So you say faith is not enough for you and you want knowledge, too. But knowledge does not involve spiritual effort; knowledge is obvious. Faith assumes effort. Knowledge is repose and faith is motion.
But were the venerable not aspiring for the harmony of repose? asked Arseny.
They took the route of faith, answered the elder. And their faith was so strong it turned into knowledge.
I want only to know the general direction of the journey, said Arseny. The part that concerns me and Ustina.
But is not Christ a general direction? asked the elder. What other kind of direction do you seek? And how do you even understand the journey anyway? As the vast expanses you left behind? You made it to Jerusalem with your questions, though you could have asked them from the Kirillov Monastery. I am not saying wandering is useless: there is a point to it. Do not become like your beloved Alexander who had a journey but had no goal. And do not be enamored of excessive horizontal motion.
Then what should I be enamored of? asked Arseny.
Vertical motion, answered the elder, pointing above.
In the center of the church’s cupola there gaped a round, black opening reserved for the sky and stars. Stars were visible but they were fading from sight. Arseny understood day was breaking.
By February, the pestilence had begun to abate. Winter’s end was so cold the plague simply froze. And though Arseny began having noticeably less work, it was also in February that he began to feel his strength near its end. Months of fighting the plague had completely run Arseny into the ground, and the usual weakness that comes with the arrival of spring added to that. It became ever harder for him to get up in the morning. When he went out to call on the sick, he would sit to rest several times along the way. When Mayor Gavriil saw Arseny’s exhaustion, he said:
Citizens of Pskov, he has expended all his strength on your numerous recoveries, so look after him, for God’s sake.
By the end of February, cases of plague infection had completely ceased. And when the opportunity came for Arseny to rest, he fell asleep. He slept for exactly half a month: fifteen days and fifteen nights. Arseny knew the strength he had given out during the pestilence had been borrowed from his future, so now he was making up for what had been used up out of turn. Sometimes he woke up to quench his thirst but then he would fall right back to sleep because his eyes would not stay open. He continued to dream of Jerusalem and the journey to Palestine and Ambrogio, who was still completely alive. Arseny’s great sleep ended on the sixteenth day and he felt his strength gradually return.
When Arseny woke up, he understood that spring had arrived. He had become used to measuring the years in springs. Spring differed from the other seasons because its onset was the most noticeable and strident. Arseny usually awaited spring’s appearance, but this time he had awoken in the middle of a spring that had already arrived, just as people suddenly awaken on a lovely day, see the sun is already high, contemplate its glints fluttering on the floor and the silver of a cobweb in a sunbeam, and weep tears of gratitude. At first Arseny thought, based on the smells and overall condition of the air, that this spring was identical to one from his childhood, but he gave himself a talking to right then and there. Arseny was completely different now, so this spring had nothing in common with his childhood spring. Unlike that spring, this one was not filling his whole world. It was a wonderful flower in his world but Arseny had known for a long time that this garden had other plants.
The roadways resounded woodenly in time with Arseny’s movement as he walked through Pskov. Buds were swelling on the trees and the first dust after the winter was floating in the air. As he approached the John the Baptist Convent, Arseny searched for the gap in the wall and found his way into the cemetery. He shed some tears when he saw his trees by the wall because they were trees from a past and irretrievable life.
The abbess and sisters already awaited Arseny in the cemetery. The abbess said:
Foma’s prophesy possesses a quality of necessity. This means it may not be avoided, no matter what your wishes. So you, O man, should head for the Kirillov Monastery. And the sooner the better.
In Pskov’s kremlin, Mayor Gavriil just lifted his hands in dismay. He remembered what Foma had said but deep down inside he had counted on Arseny residing in Pskov until the presumed end of the world. He would feel calmer that way. The mayor was not certain of the practicability of Arseny’s continued presence.
In theory, we are ready to take him in, was the word from the Kirillov Monastery. Tell Mayor Gavriil, would you, that he shouldn’t grumble or put a spoke in the traveler’s wheel, if, that is, we are not talking about travel on foot.
Who would send him on foot after he has been so exhausted? said the surprised Mayor Gavriil. Most likely we will knock together some means of travel commensurate with his services to the burg of Pskov and its environs.
They wanted to offer the mayor’s own wagon to Arseny but he chose a horse. Wagons predominantly served those weak of body, and also women and children. Knowing that, everyone understood Arseny wanted to ride as befitted a man. Though he was not fully healthy, nobody attempted to convince him to refuse to ride on horseback. Mayor Gavriil insisted only on giving Arseny an escort of five men, in the event of unforeseen circumstances. Essentially, the majority of circumstances were unforeseen in this not-so-simple time.