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Plik had put aside his enveloping cloak, though he kept his slouch hat on, just in case.
"Now," he began, speaking in Pellish, "as I said yesterday, the tales of the Meddler come to us originally from j
the Old Country. Here's a short one that demonstrates a at deal about his personality."
"The Meddler and the Thwarted Lovers"
One day as the Meddler was out walking, going about, just seeing the world as he liked to do, he came to a
prosperous farm. The pastures were all fenced in white, the fields were lush with crops. He walked wide stretches
where fat cattle contentedly grazed, and saw ponds where duck swam, and fish glided beneath the clear waters. When
the Meddler came to the main wagon road leading into this fine farm, he paused, wondering whether or not he should
turn in and perhaps ask for a meal and a bed for the night. While he was paused there, he heard the sound of a choked
off sob.
"Who is there?" the Meddler said, casting around, looking beneath the hedges and in the ditches. "Speak up! Are
you hurt?"
A young man emerged from a copse of apple trees, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He was as comely as the sun at
noon, his skin smooth and without blemish, his dark hair glossy, his carriage erect. However, his eyes were red from
weeping.
The young man made a great effort and hid his grief, then he said to the Meddler, "Hello, traveler. Have you
walked far today?"
"Far enough," the Meddler said. "I was in those distant hills when the day began."
"Will you stop and take the evening meal here?" the young man asked. "I am Letu, son of this house, and my
parents would speak sharply to me if I did not make you welcome."
The Meddler's feet were aching, and when he thought of the abundant fields and the fat cattle he had seen, his
stomach rumbled loudly enough for the young man to hear.
Letu's handsome face shed its sorrow for a moment, and he laughed. "Your belly answers for you. Come and dine
with us."
The road up to the house was a long one. Before they had gone many paces, the Meddler pried from Letu what
sorrow had brought him to tears. As Letu told him, his eyes brightened once more with unshed tears, but manfully he
held back his grief.
'Traveler, I will tell you. I love a young woman with all my heart, but never, never will I have her for my own.
My heart breaks as I contemplate an eternity of separation. My despair is so great that my food tastes of sawdust and
my drink of brine."
"She must be an extraordinary young woman," the Meddler said.
"She is," Letu replied, his eyes shining with joy as before they had shone with tears. "You can see her in the
kitchens. Her name is Vitzi."
***
PLIK INTERRUPTED HIMSELF TO SAY, "That's a word meaning 'meadowsweet,' the name of a pretty wild-
flower."
"AND DOES VITZI LOVE YOU AS YOU LOVE her?"
"Vitzi has loved me almost from the first moment we met. My parents will not agree to let us be together. They
say it is not right and proper, not suitable."
Now in his journeys from place to place, the Meddler had seen many young people kept apart by parents who had
ambitions for them. As he looked around him at this large and prosperous farm, he thought that certainly Letu's parents
had ambitions for their son's marriage.
Perhaps there was a neighboring property that was the dower of some plain woman. The Meddler could imagine
her, a spinster, doubtless, with a disposition like sour milk and only her wealth to recommend her.
The Meddler vowed men and there that he would not see the handsome and courteous Letu robbed of the woman
he so clearly adored.
"May I step around to the kitchen and so gain a glimpse of your beloved?"
"By all means," Letu said. "Do so while I inform my father of your arrival, and arrange to have an extra plate set
at the table. Do not speak with her, though. The kitchens will be busy this time of day, and I would not have harsh
words spoken to Vitzi for her inattention."
The Meddler agreed to this condition, and when they reached the farmhouse, he slipped around back to the
kitchens. There was a great deal of activity mere, and he wondered how he might pick Letu's Vitzi from the others.
Then he saw there was no need. Not only was there only one girl beautiful enough to have awakened such a forlorn
passion in a young man's heart, the head cook was busy shouting orders to her staff.
This one was ordered to pull the bread from the ovens, that one to check the pastries. Finally the cook's command
fell on the beautiful young woman.
"Vitzi," the cook said sharply, "put another pie in the ovens. I have just been told another guest will be here for
supper."
Vitzi moved to do as ordered, and the Meddler slipped away, thrilled and delighted by the beauty and elegance of
the young woman. He resolved to repay Letu's hospitality by making it possible for him to join his beloved.
Letu's father, whose name was Olenu, proved to be a man whose prosperity was evident in how his gut slopped
over his belt, but whose calloused hands showed that he still worked hard. He welcomed the Meddler to his table,
explaining that Letu's mother was not present.
"My wife has taken most of our children with her into town for market day. She will return tomorrow morning,"
"Perhaps I shall pass her on the road," the Meddler said, and he thanked the deities for granting him this relative
freedom to act.
When the evening meal was over, Olenu excused himself, repeating Letu's invitation to stay the night. The
Meddler accepted, but he refused a room in the house.
"This is too grand a place for me," he said. "I'd be happier outside."
"We have bunkhouses where the harvest crews sleep in season," Letu offered. "They are empty now."
"That would be fine," the Meddler said. "Come and see me when the sun is set and darkness has come. Perhaps
we can find a solution for your problem. Bring with you a change of clothing, and whatever money you can lay your
hands on without raising suspicion."
Letu looked doubtful, but he agreed. They parted then, and the Meddler went by the kitchens. Vitzi was standing
by herself, eating a slice of the pie that had been served for dessert.
The Meddler walked up to her, and greeted her with a smile. "I am the guest who enjoyed that very pie. Tonight I
will be sleeping in the harvester's bunkhouse. Come and see me when it is dark. I have spoken with your beloved."
Vitzi's eyes had widened at a stranger speaking so familiarly to her, but at the mention of her beloved, the
astonishment vanished.
"I will be there," she promised, and turned away.
The Meddler spent the time before darkness securing a pair of riding horses from one of the fields. He tied them
behind the bunkhouse. He found tack and saddlebags, and packed these with good things from the abundant gelds. He
even made up a cozy bedroll, thrilling a little at the thought of what it would see that night. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]