Suddenly she pushed me away and started to get dressed. I went out of the tent with her. Above us the stars shone and seemed to me unusually bright.
'I'm sorry,' I said. 'But there would be no sense starting again. It wouldn't go anywhere.'
'Who told you I wanted to start something?' she hurled at me. 'I needed to find out if you'd come crawling if I wanted.'
'But I didn't come crawling to you, did I?'
'Oh no? And you dare to say that to my face after what you've just done. You're a vile, disgusting, lying beast.'
Maybe she was right. It struck me that all the time I've been waiting for her to come to me and for us to make love.
At the time when I was striving to become an interpreter of history I once read some medieval legends that dealt with physical abstinence. They decried property, food, drink and also, of course, what is called sexual love — which for their authors was the result of original sin. They went so far in their condemnation of physical desire that the best married couples in their view were those who remained virgins to the end of their days. The hypocrisy of those authors disgusted me. They sneered at the desires of the body without which they themselves would never have been born. But there was one thing I had to grant them: the realization that you have to fix your gaze on something that is above those desires and be responsible for how you behave and the things you do.
I turned away and went back into my tent. I lay down again and tried to think of something nice that had happened to me in the past or something I still looked forward to, but nothing occurred to me.
The next morning we stopped in the town of Rožňava. Soon we split up and we each set off as the fancy took us. I wandered through the sweltering streets and alleyways, where there was little sign of life in the heat of the late morning, apart from the occasional half-naked child running past or a dog with its tongue lolling out. An out-of-the-way sweet shop offered Italian icecream but I was more attracted by a nearby shop sign that advertised the services of a fortune-teller.
As I opened the door, I set several bells ringing at once, but the only living creature to appear was a cinnamon-coloured Persian cat. It jumped up on the counter and gazed at me with its yellow fiendish eyes. A posy of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling filled the shop with a spicy scent.
At last a door at the back of the shop creaked and a smiling woman in a long purple dressing gown appeared. Even if it hadn't been written above the shop, Id have suspected her of engaging in some kind of witchcraft. 'You wish to have your fortune told, young sir?' she asked.
She had long unkempt black hair and dark Indian eyes, and around her neck she wore a heavy chain that seemed to be gold, as did the bracelets on her brown wrists.
I asked her what she used to tell fortunes, and she told me it was inspiration from God. She could take a look at my palm but it wasn't necessary. Anyway she had to look at my aura first before she could raise the blinds that concealed my future. She gestured me to follow her into an alcove where there stood two faded armchairs and a small table with a few scattered dried flowers on it. Amazingly enough the place was pleasantly cool.
She pointed me to one of the armchairs and sat down opposite. She asked me to place my hands on the table palms upwards, to stop thinking about anything else, and to look in her direction. She took my hand for a moment, but she didn't seem to be concentrating on it. She asked me whether I wanted to know both the good and the bad things about myself and I nodded. She let go of my hand, stared at me and then mumbled something incomprehensible. Then she told me my aura was gradually becoming clearer and I was emerging from it and floating upwards. She could see that I was a good man with many abilities, but I had experienced great pain. She could see me crying over a coffin and snakes winding themselves round my legs, but I wasn't to be afraid as they didn't bite.
'You will have a long life, young sir, and the illnesses you will have won't be any threat to you. I can see sparks flying from your
fingertips; you must have touched lots of people with them. Take care, take great care or the sparks from your hands will burn you.'
The cat quietly crept into the room and jumped on to the woman's lap, but the fortune-teller didn't seem to notice, her attention apparently fixed on the images that appeared before her eyes, images that she reported to me. Her concentration impressed me, as well as the fact that she didn't try to baffle me with external aids such as cards or a crystal ball.
In the near future, she continued, she could see many obstacles in my path: they are solid and powerful, but I wouldn't vanquish them, I'd go round them. I would climb into a vehicle that would take me to the royal heights, and no enemies that stood in my way would get the better of me. She told me I had lots of friends, and one friend in particular, who was strong and kind, would stand by me. The disaster that was going to overthrow all the cities around me would pass me by.
I wanted to ask her what disaster she was referring to, but I was afraid of interrupting the flow of her visions.
'I also see a woman,' she went on. 'She is older than you. She is far away and she is waiting for you. But it isn't your mother. Yes, she is looking for you because she is in danger. A great danger that you can save her from. You will be richly rewarded.' She fell silent and raised her hands as if about to give me a blessing. Then she stood up.
I gave her two hundred crowns and went back out into the hot day whose brightness blinded me.
In sudden anxiety I tried to phone Kristýna from the post office but I couldn't get through. When I met up with the others I told them I had to return to Prague by the next train. Věra no doubt thought I was running away from her, but I didn't care what she thought.
In the train my anxiety grew. I knew that someone had been sending Kristýna anonymous threats. Another possibility was that someone who was afraid to attack me directly might attack her as
a way of intimidating me. I thought of how delicate Kristýna was, or not delicate so much as vulnerable. Anyone could hurt her. There were people who, as soon as they detected someone's vulnerability, couldn't wait to hurt them.
There was a time when victims were revered as martyrs, these days it is the torturer who tends to be revered.
In Prague I called her immediately from the first call box in front of the station and asked her if everything was OK.
She said it was and was glad I hadn't forgotten about her yet. She would like to see me but she and Jana were just on their way out. She was driving her to another treatment centre a long distance from Prague. She wasn't sure whether she would manage to get back by evening. But she would definitely be home the following day. I could come there and stay with her now that she was on her own.
I asked her if I oughtn't to travel with her. She hesitated for a moment and then said it wouldn't be necessary.
I ought to have made it more obvious that she was in danger and demand that she take me with her. But I don't know whether the danger is immediate or not. As the celebrated Nostradamus put it: Quod defuturis non est determinata omnio Veritas.
I felt regret that I had come back from my holiday on her account while she seemed in no great hurry to see me, and I told her that I probably wouldn't be able to make it the next day, but that I'd definitely call her.
6
Summer is slowly drawing to a close; the lime trees in the street in front of Mum's house have already finished flowering, and autumnal melancholy has descended on me prematurely, as well as weariness. I drove Jana to that distant spot where I am not to visit her for a whole month and it wouldn't even be a good idea to write to her.
Now I could take a holiday but suddenly I don't feel like going anywhere on my own. Jan talked about us going somewhere together, but we've never even been out for the day. I have the feeling there's something on his mind; he's less communicative. He says he has lots of work on; he wants to go through as many files as possible before they kick him out of his job or he is refused access to top-secret materials. I don't try to talk him round: I'm a bit afraid of us being together all the time; he is full of vigour and I'm a tired middle-aged woman. And besides I've got used to not having a man around full time.