Laurus looked intently at the visitors. He realized that his many-day journey had, in fact, turned out not to be so very long. And that he had gotten lost during his journey but had, as a result, come to the place he needed to come.
Helpe us, O Laurus, pleaded miller Tikhon, for what kind of helper is she at the mill with a hurt foot?
Tears streamed down the miller’s wife’s cheeks because she knew this matter concerned her life, not her foot. Laurus signaled to her to remove the headscarf wound around her hurt foot. After she had done so, Laurus crouched by her feet. Her foot was swollen and had begun to fester. He began slowly probing the foot. Miller Tikhon turned away. Laurus pressed on the foot with both hands and the miller’s wife began sobbing. He again wound the headscarf on the hurt spot.
Do not cry, woman, said Laurus. Your foot will heal and you will return to work at the mill and you will be a helper to your husband.
Will everything be like before? asked the miller’s wife.
No, not everything will be as it was before, answered Laurus, since nothing in the world recurs. I do not think you want that anyway.
And they bowed to Laurus and left.
From that day on, people began coming to him from Rukina Quarter. After seeing that the ascetic monk Laurus had helped the miller’s hurt wife, they understood he would not refuse them, either. After hearing the miller’s story of how Laurus had accepted his bread and how he had thanked him with a low bow, they began bringing him food. And each time they brought food, Laurus asked them not to. But they brought it anyway, maybe bread, maybe boiled turnip, maybe pots of oatmeal porridge. Based on the miller’s story, it followed that these sorts of offerings did no harm. Besides, people in Rukina Quarter had long believed that only paid work brought results. Even if it was the work of healing.
Realizing that it was impossible to refuse, Laurus began sharing the food with birds and animals. He broke the bread in two, flung his arms wide open, and birds landed on his arms. They pecked the bread and rested on his warm shoulders. A bear usually ate up the porridge and turnip. The bear just could not find a suitable den to sleep in, and that made his life miserable.
When he came to see Laurus, the bear complained about the cold, an absence of proper nutrition, and his generally unsettled life. Laurus let him into the cave to warm up on the coldest days, appealing to his guest not to snore or distract him from his prayer. Laurus suggested the bear see their rooming together as a temporary measure. Laurus breathed a sigh of relief when the bear finally found himself a den at the very end of December.
Beginning that winter, Laurus lost track of forward-moving time. Laurus now sensed only cyclical time, which was a closed loop: the time of a day, of a week, or of a year. He knew all the Sundays in the year but counting the years themselves was, for him, hopelessly lost. Sometimes people told him what year was coming up but he immediately forgot because it had been so long since he had believed that information held value.
The events in his memory no longer correlated with time. They quietly spread through his life, falling into a distinct order unconnected with time. Some events surfaced from the depths of what had been lived, some had submerged into those depths forever because the experiences had led nowhere. What had been lived gradually lost its definition, turning more and more into general ideas of good and evil that were devoid of detail and color.
Among temporal indicators, the words one day came to mind ever more frequently. Laurus liked those words because they overcame the curse of time. They also confirmed the singularity and lack of repeatability of everything that had occurred: one day. One day he realized this indicator was quite enough.
(One day) Elizaveta, a Novgorod boyar woman, was brought to Laurus’s cave. She had slipped and hit her head on a rock many years before. Her vision had been dimming ever since; a while after the accident she could see only the outlines of objects. Not long before coming to see Laurus, the boyar woman Elizaveta had ceased seeing even those.
When Laurus came out of his cave she said:
Anoint my eyes with that water you take from the spring, so I may see the light again.
Laurus marveled at his visitor’s belief and did as she asked. Right then and there she saw the outlines of Laurus’s face and, behind his back, the movement of those who had accompanied her. The boyar woman Elizaveta began pointing at them and calling them by their names. She also gave the names of the herbs and flowers growing around Laurus’s cave. Sometimes she made mistakes because there was still a murkiness in her eyes, but she could already see the main thing: light. She kept lifting her head up and looking at the bright summer sun without squinting: her eyes did not hurt and simply could not get enough sun. The boyar woman Elizaveta’s vision had completely returned by the beginning of autumn.
(One day) they led God’s servant Nikolai, bound in chains, to Laurus. Ten men led him because a lesser number would not have been capable of restraining him and controlling his movement. Nikolai was not tall but the demons who had settled inside him gave him a frenzied energy. His appearance was frightening. Nikolai snarled and howled, and gnawed at his chains, revealing teeth broken on the iron. A bloody foam frothed on his lips. He wildly rolled his eyes so only the whites were visible. Dark blue veins bulged on his temples and on his neck. There was barely any clothing on him since he tore to shreds anything he was dressed in. And he was not cold, despite the frosty weather: the alien forces sitting within warmed him.
Let him go, Laurus said to those holding Nikolai.
Those restraining Nikolai exchanged looks. After some hesitation, they tossed away the chains and stepped away from Nikolai. Quiet set in. Nikolai no longer howled and flailed. Half-bent, he stood and looked straight into Laurus’s eyes. His mouth was half-open. Saliva stretched from his mouth, dangling. Laurus took a step toward Nikolai and laid a hand on his head. They stood like that for a time. Laurus’s eyes were closed but his lips were moving. The two men’s heads slowly moved closer together, until Laurus’s forehead touched Nikolai’s forehead.
In the name of our Savior Jesus Christ, I order you to leave God’s servant Nikolai, Laurus said loudly.
At those words, Nikolai extended his arms toward Laurus, as if he wanted to embrace him. His body slackened. Nikolai slowly slid to the ground, his chains clanking. He lay on the snow at Laurus’s feet and nobody dared approach him. Nikolai’s eyes were open, as if he were dead, but he was not dead.
They have abandoned him and his spirit is on the road to recovery, said Laurus. Let him rest until the end of night, he can go take Communion in the morning.
And so they carried Nikolai off to Rukina Quarter and he lay unconscious at the end of that day and through the night. When he opened his eyes early in the morning, there shone in them the light of reason, as befits a person bearing God’s image. Nikolai was still very weak because all the pitch-black energy he had possessed departed with the demons.
With prayers—his own and from people around him—Nikolai found within himself the strength to make it to the church and take Communion. He felt better after taking Communion because a new firmness had entered him along with Christ’s blood and flesh. Accompanied by the public, Nikolai headed for Laurus’s cave straight from the church.
Laurus came out to greet them and wordlessly blessed them. And they all fell to their knees before Laurus because they saw this person’s strength was firmer than demonic strength. After that, they all asked Nikolai why he had resisted so much when they brought him to Laurus’s cave, screaming at the top of his lungs, louder than humanly possible. And then Nikolai answered them: