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accident,
Budach, in which case your only hope would be the quick wit and cool
head of
your companion to get you out of this calamity. But what if Don Reba
should
be interested in you personally? For Don Reba will occasionally
display an
unexpected concern . . . His spies might report that you are
traveling
through Arkanar, then a detachment under the command of some very
eager Gray
officer will be sent out to meet you. And this Gray cretin of low
rank will
be responsible for your ending up in a bag of stones in the Tower of
Joy...
Rumata pulled once more at the rope, very impatient now. The
bedroom
door opened with a repulsive creak and a thin, somber-looking boy
entered
the room. His name was Uno, and his fate might have served as the
theme for
a ballad. He bowed deeply as he stood on the threshold, scraping
the floor
with his torn shoes, and stepped up to the bed. On the small
bedside table
he put down a tray with letters, some coffee, and a stale bread
crust to be
chewed, which in turn was supposed to strengthen and cleanse the
teeth.
Rumata glanced at him, very annoyed.
"Tell me please, are you ever going to oil that creaky door?"
The boy looked silently at the floor. Rumata threw the
coverlet back,
let his bare feet dangle down over the edge of the bed and reached
for the
tray. "Washed yourself this morning?" he asked. The boy shifted
from one
foot to the other; without answering he wandered through the room,
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Arkadi and Boris Strugatski. Hard to be a god
picking
up the scattered garments that lay on the floor.
"I believe I asked you whether you washed yourself today?" said
Rumata
while he opened his first letter.
"Water won't wash away your sins," muttered the boy under his
breath.
"So why, noble don, should I wash myself?"
"And what did I tell you about microbes?" said Rumata.
Carefully, the
boy placed his master's green trousers over the back of the
armchair, then
passed his thumb in a circle above it to chase away the wicked ghosts.
"I prayed three times last night," he said. "What more could I
do?"
"You numbskull," said Rumata and started to read his letter.
It was from Dona Okana, a lady-in-waiting, the latest favorite
of Don
Reba. She invited him to come and visit her this very evening, and
signed
the letter "amorously languishing for you." The P.S. stated in clear,
simple
language what she really expected from this rendezvous.
Rumata felt
embarrassed; he blushed. Throwing a side glance at the boy, he
murmured:
"That's really too much . . ." He ought to think it over. To go
there was
disgusting; not to go there would be foolish. Dona Okana was a well-
informed
person. He quickly drained his cup of coffee and put the chewing-
crust into
his mouth.
The next envelope was made of heavy paper; the seal was damaged.
It was
obvious that the letter had been opened. The letter was from Don
Ripat, an
unscrupulous careerist and lieutenant in the Gray Militia, who
inquired
after his esteemed well-being, expressed his belief in the imminent
victory
of the Gray Cause, and begged to postpone payment of his debt, by
quoting
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Arkadi and Boris Strugatski. Hard to be a god
various unfavorable circumstances. "All right, all right," Rumata
mumbled
and put the letter aside, picked the envelope up once again and
examined it
with great interest. Oh yes, they were working much more carefully
now; much
more carefully.
The third letter contained an invitation to a duel because of a
certain
Dona Pifa, but the writer was willing to withdraw his challenge
provided the
noble Don Rumata would testify that he was making no claims upon the
person
of Dona Pifa and had never made any such claims. The letter was
typical: the
basic text had been written by a calligrapher and the blanks had been
filled
in with names and times-- in a clumsy hand and full of mistakes.
Rumata put the letter down and scratched the mosquito bites on
his left
hand.
"I want to wash up. Bring the things in!" he ordered.
The boy disappeared behind the door, to return soon with a
wooden
basin. He dragged the tub along the floor, his behind wagging
with the
exertion. Then he ran once more out of the room and dragged in an
empty tub
with a big dipper.
Rumata now jumped to his feet, pulled the elaborately
embroidered
nightshirt over his head, and noisily unsheathed the swords that
had been
hanging over the headboard of his bed. Cautiously, the boy ducked
behind a
chair. For ten minutes Rumata practiced attack and defense; then he
leaned
the swords against the wall, bent over the empty tub, and
ordered: "The
water!" It was rather miserable to wash without soap but Rumata had
become
used to it. The boy scooped up the water with the dipper and poured
it over
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Arkadi and Boris Strugatski. Hard to be a god
Rumata's back, neck, and head. Dipper after dipper filled with
water. All
the while he kept grumbling: "Everywhere else people behave
like human
beings, only here in our house must we bother with such refined
nonsense.
Who has ever heard of such a thing? To wash yourself with two
buckets of
water? Every day a fresh towel . . . And His Lordship jumps around
all naked
with two swords every morning, without having said his prayers
first.. ."
While Rumata toweled himself vigorously, he spoke with an
authoritative
tone: "I am a member of the court, not just some lousy baron. A
courtier
must always be clean and sweet-smelling."
"His Royal Highness will hardly sniff at you," replied
the boy.
"Everyone knows that his Highness prays day and night for us
sinners. And
Don Reba--he never washes. I have it first-hand; his servant has
told me
so."
"All right, don't fret," said Rumata and put on his nylon
undershirt.
The boy regarded the undershirt with dismay. Rumors about it
had been
circulating for quite some time now amongst the servants in
Arkanar. But
there was nothing that Rumata could do about it, for very natural
reasons
growing out of his masculine mentality. As Rumata slipped on his
shorts, the
boy jerked his head to one side, moving his lips as if he wanted
to shoo
away the spirit of impurity.
Still, it wouldn't be a bad idea to introduce here the
fashion of
wearing undergarments, thought Rumata. But such innovations could
naturally
be carried out only with the help of the fairer sex. And in
this area,
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