The Old Tract between the two capitals
Characters: Pan Twardowski, Pagan devil (Piotr Pekelny), Leo Stadnyk
Prehistory: Polish nobleman Jan Twardowski is indebted to the devil. In a moment of despair, he agreed to exchange his soul for eternal youth, a fortune and granting of any three wishes. Via the agreed pact, they were to meet in Rome in order to fulfill the debt. Some time ago a devil, who lives in disguise under the name of a church cardinal Piotr Pekelny, sent his proxy Leo Stadnyk to fulfill the wishes. After fulfilling the last wish, Stadnyk and Twardowski are about to meet at the abandoned inn near a town called White Bridge (Bialy Most).
Under a Violet Moon
The Old Tract between the two capitals wasn’t particularly busy. It was the time of the year when local trade almost stops, leaving the road freely available to the messengers, servants and all kind of wanderers, from musicians and naive townsfolk to the bands of brigands, who were pretty numerous lately. It’s been 15 years since the last war ended, but in the very corner of the country, its bitter spoils could be still seen. Burning, pillage, murder became a common thing, and people were easily enraged by one another.
At the crossroads somewhere on the Old Tract, there once was a tavern. More precisely, it was a huge inn surrounded by a solid palisade, with the main building, two guesthouses and a solid stable, everything wooden. A pond nearby was looking gorgeous, and in better times the area would certainly have been populated. No one knew what happened with the owners, but most likely they simply fled westwards, away from the possible pogroms or looting. It’s been at least five years as they left, but nature wasn’t yet ready to fully reconquer this piece of land from the human race: the stables were full of thickets, several rickety buildings were fitted under birds nests, and the place where once was an entrance sign was overgrown with wild grapes.
To the surprise of any passerby, in the middle of the courtyard was sitting a well-dressed man. His rich garments and fine saber made his presence on the territory of the inn even more grotesque. Leo Stadnyk, once a terror of everything alive between Bug and Narew, was peacefully sitting on a wooden barrel possibly still filled with some mead. His horse was eating grass nearby, and a beautiful violet rose laid next to him at the table. It could have seemed he was waiting for a date, but what lass would be willing to travel such far away to meet him?
Leo seemed bored, yet he was deep in his memories. He was thinking about the estate of his uncle. As a child, he spent a lot of time there, playing with his cousins, hearing stories of the ancient times from the elderly. Uncle’s wife had a good heart and was taking care of noble orphan girls, who were always numerous in the eastern part of the country. She raised them with her own daughters, taught them singing, knitting, dancing. Spending evenings listening to their songs was one most pleasant delights of Leo’s childhood.
The sunset was close, and Leo started dozing off, but suddenly he heard the hoofbeats from the south. Leo correctly guessed that a rider was alone, yet some mixture of anxiety and fear was filling him inside. In a moment a beautiful Arab steed entered the soil of the Inn. Luxuriously harnessed, flawlessly trained, such a horse would be a jewel in any stable. Its horseman, wrapped up in silk and velvet, was worn better than a voivode. Jewels decorated most elements of his costume, and those who saw him whispered about his similarity to the mighty Stephan Bathory. The rider was famous Jan Twardowski, a living hero of townsmen gossip, tales and legends. No one knew who he exactly was, which was giving him even more attention from the public.
Twardowski dismounted almost immediately and approached Stadnyk:
Nice choice of locale - Jan was sarcastic as usual- Couldn’t choose anything nicer?
It wasn’t me to choose the place - Leo wasn’t looking at him - I’ve fulfilled your last wish. The rose you gave to your wife ten years ago - he pointed his hand at the rose with a gesture.
How am I supposed to know you didn’t buy it at the nearby market an hour ago?
Look closely at it. Don’t you see? - Leo was nervous but didn’t show it.
A thorn. - Jan was looking at it as a child - that’s really it. But how is this possible? How did you get it?
Iris gave it to me. - Leo was afraid Twardowski wouldn’t understand it.
What? It can’t be possible. Iris is dead! - Jan’s face suddenly changed
Now she is. - Stadnyk finally managed to control himself
She died ten years ago. I have a letter from her relatives, I sent my servants to find her grave. How is it possible? - Twardowski was certainly nervous.
He turned away from Stadnyk and suddenly saw it all again. He saw Iris at her wedding day, their guests, the music. How beautiful she was when she played the harp, accompanying ancient Greek poetry. They suited each other, as they were the only two people in the country who knew that language and didn’t bear the title of Professor. What happened to him? Why did he close her at the tower for five years, before she died from solitude and loneliness?
Twardowski cursed the day he signed that pact, the day when he got everything, losing his heart instead. He was feeling that the devil was close, but didn’t know what did he need. Yes, Stadnyk managed to fulfill all the wishes, but they agreed that his soul would be taken in Rome, where he’ll never travel by his will.
Bodies aren’t the only place human’s soul inhabits - Twardowski heard the voice he wanted to hear the least - Soon you’ll be sure of that
Jan Twardowski looked around. A creature, known to his compatriots as Piotr Pekelny, was standing before him. The most important of the Catholic bishops of the country, he arrived in the golden carriage with four black horses. Worn in red and purple, he could be seen as a vulgar counterpart of Twardoski. No one accompanied him, yet some part of the nature was certainly livened up by his appearance. Insects started getting off from the ground, crows and bats could be seen in the evening sky. The Moon appeared on the horizon.
Pan Jan Twardowski, Sir. - Pekelny started his speech pathetically bowing- due to the pact that your Grace signed with me by their blood, you Grace is obliged to give me the soul of theirs
What do you want?- Twardowski decided to attack his opponent
Oh, your Grace isn’t willing to meet me? - Pekelny’s great weakness was his love to play with his victims - you, people, are so ungrateful these days. I gave you everything you wanted, and now you are ashamed of my companionship! Well-well, soon you’ll speak to me in another way. Answering your question directly, the only thing I want is your soul
Then wait for me in Rome - Twardowski started laughing
Don’t have to wait - Pekelny pointed his head at the entrance sign. His worms and spiders were quickly removing the grapes from it, and the inscription under the leaves clued a single word: “ROME”.
You… you cheated me… we’re not in Rome! - Twardowski fell on his knees. - we had an agreement, a pact
I gave you what you wished. Here, in Rome, you’ll fulfill your part of the contract - Piotr Pekelny didn’t hear anyone.
Suddenly, Twardowski remembered his young years, his first arrival at Vilno with his mother. He remembered a chant he heard in a Church of St. Francis. Loudly praying, he suddenly felt like he was flying. He saw himself flying towards a Moon, and Pekelny chasing him together with his hounds. Out of the eye, he noticed Leo, who fainted from what happened. Suddenly, he started hearing the voices of his dead friends and family. They were praying for him, repeating his chant word by word, among them was a voice of Iris. Suddenly some force threw Pekelny down, and in a moment he disappeared in the clouds. That moment Jan Twardowski hang in the air.
-You’ll wait here till the Day of the Lord - a mighty voice said.
The Violet Moon was in its zenith.
Epilogue:
Next day Leo Stadnyk woke up surrounded by six horses and a golden carriage, whose owners whereabouts were now an unsolvable mystery
If someone asks me, I got this in Rome. - Stadnyk was always inventive about justification.- If only the road was empty! - he said loudly, hoping someone will help him. The most nervous day of his life was about to begin.
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