“Not bad!” shouted Grandfather when he saw me stopping in bewilderment. “The best view is from up here. Be prepared. There are iron men riding this way!”
A moment later I could see them too. There were six iron men, in the middle of whom rode a fat man on an extremely fine horse and wearing clothes dripping with jewels, on his face a haughty, disdainful expression. This was undoubtedly some important lord, perhaps a bishop. I didn’t know. He couldn’t be the Pope at any rate, for Johannes had said that the Pope lived in the city of Rome. We weren’t very interested in who precisely he was. I went and stood in the middle of the road, knife in my hand, while Grandfather flew in a great arc up behind the iron men. They hadn’t noticed him yet, and they hadn’t wanted to notice me either; they steered their horses straight in my direction as if I were mere air through which they could calmly ride. Evidently they were hoping that I would humbly step aside, but I didn’t, and I met the enraged gaze of the mighty lord. He had noticed me, screwed up his face angrily, and made a movement with his arm as if to wipe me out of the way like rubbish or a fly. One knight drew a sword from his belt.
Then I hissed — and the horses started to break their stride. Two knights fell right out of the saddle. The others managed to remain on their horses’ backs, but that was their misfortune, for then it was much simpler for Grandfather to strike them on the head with his ax. He came whirling and howling like that ancient bird whose picture I had seen in the Primates’ cave. Twice he struck with the ax, and two iron heads rolled along the ground. He turned right around, and set off again. Meanwhile, I stabbed to death the two knights who had tumbled from the saddle.
The only one left alive was that proud lord in his costly garb. His expression was no longer lofty or scornful at all; now he stared in sheer amazement at the extraordinary winged monster of whose existence he had never heard. This monster looked truly horrifying, with wings made of bones, as well as a long gray beard and two aged, blood-red eyes, sharp crooked claws like a bird’s, and unnaturally short legs, actually mere stumps. This must have been a ghastly, unearthly sight in everyone’s eyes but mine, for whom this monster was my earthly grandfather.
I stepped up to the proud lord and killed him. Grandfather flew to a nearby tree and perched on a branch of it. Now he looked even more like a bird.
“All of them!” he said with satisfaction. “Pretty good for a start. Oh, my boy, how long I’ve waited for this day!”
“What kept you so long?” I asked. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming after all.”
“I couldn’t get those last bones I needed from anywhere!” shouted Grandfather. “It was terrible! After you left, not a single person came to my island. I lay in wait for days on end by the seashore, but not a single ship came. The months passed; a whole year went by. I thought I would go mad. I had these wings nearly ready. You had brought me the windbag, and yet I couldn’t get going. There were animals on the island, but their bones weren’t right, although I did try for a few weeks with deer and goats. Nothing came of it. You know, boy, I tell you honestly so please don’t take offense, but if you and your girl had come upon me at that moment, I would have killed you and put your bones to use. So what if you’re my grandson and dear to me. I was completely blind; I was even thinking of ripping a bone of my own from my side and putting it on the wings, but there was nothing to take. In the end I wasn’t even eating or drinking; I was just sitting like a rock on the shore, staring at the sea. Ten days ago I finally saw, far out at sea, one ship, but it wasn’t sailing toward my island at all, but in the other direction. I jumped into the water, swam like mad, and caught up with the ship. I hauled myself aboard and killed the whole crew, crawling around like a crab, with a long knife in each hand. But then there was a new problem. How to steer the ship to the island? I was alone! Yes, I fumbled around and rowed and tried every trick, but still it took a whole week before I got home. Then I needed another couple of days to clean the bones and finish off the wings. My hands were shaking as I put those little bones in place. You know I had a sort of feeling, like a man who’s been starving for a long time, when finally a decent hunk of meat is put in front of him. Tears of joy came into my eyes. Finally the wings were ready. I tied the windbag on to them and took off. I screeched with joy and slaughtered a couple of seagulls just for the hell of it. I flew straight here and found you on the pyre. Why did they want to burn you?”
“They thought I was a werewolf,” I replied. “A person who can change into a wolf.”
“Why would a being in their right mind change into a wolf?” wondered Grandfather. “That would be stupid. I certainly don’t want to be ridden on or milked.”
He laughed resoundingly.
“Not that you could squeeze any milk out of me!” he roared. “What isn’t there isn’t there! I’m not a wolf, but a proper human, and I’ll carry on raging so the ground is black!”
He looked at me inquiringly.
“Are you coming with me?” he asked. “Are we going off to fight, as we’ve been doing? Or are you stuck to your woman and prefer to sit at home?”
“I have no one to be stuck to,” I said.
“Ah — that girl who came visiting me with you? Hiie, or what was her name? Didn’t you take her after all? She was pretty.”
“She was, Grandfather,” I replied. “But she’s dead.”
Grandfather hummed.
“Oh, I see,” he said. “Well, now … A pity of course, but at least you’re free and you can do what you want. Are you coming with me? Of course, first we have to go home and say hello to your mother, my daughter. We can’t put that off, because who knows what the future may bring.”
“Mother is dead too,” I said. “Just about everybody is dead, so let’s go right away, Grandfather. There’s no point in waiting.”
Grandfather stared at me.
“She’s dead too …” he repeated. “While I’ve been sitting on my island, you’ve been living your whole lives through. Well, what’s left to me but to get even. Let’s go, boy. We’re in a real hurry!”
I stuffed the knife back in my belt and set forth, Grandfather floating overhead like a giant bat. The pile of brushwood lay behind us, as did a heap of dead bodies. In this way in the end the brushwood became an ordinary pyre after all; at least I hope it did. By the time the remaining villagers ventured out of their hiding places and started burning the dead, Grandfather and I were already far away.
Thirty-Five
e went to war. It was an odd crusade, because we had not the slightest hope of winning. In the end there were just the two of us against the whole wide world. We were like two aphids who could gobble up individual leaves voraciously, but with no possibility of felling the whole tree. We moved from battle to battle and had no place to turn back to after a successful strike, to rest and to report to those back home: We won! We were warring only for our own pleasure and because we couldn’t do anything else in the new world. We didn’t need anyone’s gratitude or a place to lick our wounds. We kept rushing onward, attacking everyone who stood in our way, killing, stinging, beating, and bashing. We were both burning with a crazed fever, and we knew that when the fever abated, it would mean death.
We were reckless and we didn’t retreat in the face of any opponent, for we had no thought of saving ourselves. It made no difference whether we fell now or later. We paid no attention to defense. We were indifferent whether an arrow pierced our chests or whether some iron man could run us through with his lance, and this carelessness was to our advantage. We overcame opponents who were several times our number in strength, and we left their corpses stacked on the road. The arrows they fired in our direction didn’t hit us; the sword blows swished past us. We roared with laughter; we howled like wolves and hissed like snakes. We never washed ourselves, and the spattered blood of our enemies covered almost our whole bodies, so that we looked like flayed carrion. We were no longer human, but the living dead, who had risen from death to harass the new world, and that new world could not rid itself of us.