Anarchistbanjo's World

The Rebirth of Melchior Dronte by Paul Busson and translated by Joe E Bandel

Beneath the well-worn tricorn hat that he wore, grinned a monkey’s face
with a mouth which he could contort in every way, as well as
make his yellow eyes squint in the most ghastly way. His
crooked nose almost touched his chin and gave him an almost
devilish appearance, which was still strengthened by the
disgusting faces, which he made. The people around him found
him less sinister than amusing, and shouted all sorts of coarse
words at him, which he answered with indecent and inviting
gestures.
Then, however, a jerk and a crane of the neck went
through the crowd. The sad procession had returned.
Two servants in dirty red coats led a stout older man with
gray hair onto the scaffold. Behind him the Red Coat climbed
up the steps and immediately stood there with naked arms.
“Heiner has refused spiritual encouragement,” said a
voice behind us. “He thinks, that the great ones are allowed to
do wrong up there in the kingdom of heaven, not only here on
earth and so he has no desire to do so.”
My father quickly turned around. The voice was silent.
“Cursed pack!” he rumbled to himself. “Good that again
an example is made.”
Someone read out something at length in a fat, nasally
and quite indifferent voice. Two pieces of wood flew onto the
scaffold, pieces of the stick which the judge broke. Master
Hans approached the blacksmith and put his hand on his
shoulder. That was now his right, and the blacksmith buckled a
little. Now he saw that he wore a coarse shirt with black
ribbons on it. I had often seen the man working merrily in his
forge. His wife was very beautiful and still young. I saw him
well now. Under his gray, wispy hair stood the bright drops of
sweat on his forehead. Once he opened his mouth and dropped
to his knees.
“Y-i-i-i,” was heard.
“Plumplumplum,” sounded the drums of the soldiers who
surrounded the scaffold.
Then the man stood up, ran his hand over his wet, shiny
forehead and looked around him in amazement. But
immediately the servants threw themselves upon him, forced
him down with ropes and straps. One saw how one leg thrust
up into the air, was grabbed and bent and disappeared.
I could hardly breathe for fear. A woman screamed
luridly. My father was panting heavily through his nose.
The executioner stepped forward, with both hands raised
a wheel with a piece of iron on it, lifted it up high and pushed it
down with all the strength of his fleshy arms.
A whimper -a scream followed -howling –
“O my -God-oh-oh-oh-“
The wheel lifted again.
“Scoundrels! Damned scoundrels!” shouted one of the
crowd. Soldiers rushed to him, pulled him out, and led him to
the side.
Screams – screams!
I vomited.
“Get out of here!” my father hissed at me.
I pushed aside shouting people, pushed, pressed, got
through – ran – ran – as fast as I could run.
In the evening, I had to sit at the long table in the dining
room with my father, and wait until he had drunk his measure
of spiced wine and smoked two pipes of tobacco. I too had to
drink wine, even though it resisted me and brought nausea.
Then I had to walk alone through the corridor where the clock
stood with the little dead man measuring and dividing the time.
I anxiously held my hand in front of my light, so that the
draught would not extinguish it and the old woman jump out of
the cabinet in the darkness. If my father had known about this
fear, a bed would have been made for me just in front of the
closet, and I would certainly have had to spend nights in it.
At the other end of the corridor a steep staircase led to
the maids’ chambers. As I passed by I saw that someone was
sitting at the foot of the stairs, sleeping. It was Gudel, a brown
haired young girl with saucy eyes and pigtails that hung down
to the back of her knees. When she carried the water bucket on
her head, the pointed berries of her breasts almost poked
through the robe. When I looked after her longingly, she
laughed with her white teeth and often turned around.
There she sat asleep, dressed only in a short red petticoat
and a shirt which had slipped half off her shoulder. I could see
the dark tuft of hair in the hollow of her armpit. At my step she
flinched, raised her head and shamefacedly put her hand in
front of her eyes. I grabbed her bare arm, which felt firm and
cool.
“Let me into your chamber, Gudel,” I whispered, and was
quite hot in the face.
She smiled and climbed slowly, moving her hips, up the
stairs. I saw her legs in the mysterious shadow under the red
skirt, and a strong smell as of fresh hay and sweat stunned me.
She slipped into the hovel she inhabited, and held the door shut,
but so weakly that I could push it in without much effort.
“The young gentleman is a nuisance -,” she laughed.
I reached for her, and she giggled softly. I was out of my
mind and grabbed her and threw her onto the blue bedding,
gasping and struggling with her.
“So the Lord put out the light -” she cried, half choked.
I let go of her and blew out the light with an
unnecessarily strong breath. It rustled in the dark, the bed
creaked. The stuffing of the upholstery smelled musty. The
smell of onions wafted warmly toward me. I squeezed my knee
between hers —
“The young gentleman is probably still clumsy -“, she
laughed again and pulled me to her.
Her arms wrapped tightly around my neck —.
“But don’t tell anyone anything,” she said afterwards and
caressed my back with her coarse hand.
That’s when the door opened. My heart stopped. It was
Balthes, the dairyman, with a big horn lantern. Stupid and mute
he looked at us in bed. Gudel took a corner of the sheet in her
mouth. Her whole solid body shook with restrained laughter.
“May a thousand-pound seething thunderstorm -” began
Balthes, but then his mouth remained open. Gudel jumped out
of bed in her shirt, went over to him and said something quietly.
Balthes hung his head, pulled a crooked smile and scratched
behind his ear. I remembered that he considered Gudel as the
house treasure and that they were going to get married.
“Go on, then – go! You know that this is nothing,” hissed
Gudel and pushed him out the door. His broad back, crouched
and strong, had something sad about it. It was the back of a
sorrowful man.
It was dark again, and Gudel crept into bed with a quiet
cracking of the joints and rolled over to me. All pleasure in her
was gone, and I lay very still. Then she kissed me tenderly and
sang softly:
“Oh, my brave little rider,
Your steed snorts freely
You may well trot with him
An hour or two.”
But I pushed my hand away and said, “What did you
whisper to Balthes?”
She laughed:
“You nosy kid -“
And threw herself over me so that her hair tickled my
face.
Then I got angry and pushed her roughly. So immediately
she lay still and was silent.
“What did you say?”
She shrugged and turned away from me in the dark.
“Gudel, I’m going to give you my baptismal dime – but
tell me!”
“Well, what?” she said harshly, “that it’s about our
marriage property, nothing more.”
I did not understand.
“How – about your marriage property?”
“The gracious lord has made it for me, and so I have
done it and will do it again, as often as the lord Squire has a
desire for a woman. In return, Balthes and I shall then live on
the Wildemann fiefdom and be allowed use of the buildings
and lands.”
Now I knew.
“And I even had to go to the Spittel-doctor, where the
free women are lying inside, and have them look at me back
and forth to see if my blood is healthy. I got a note, and the
gentleman has read it and told me to see to it that the
gentleman squire in good time gets his first gallop on the horse
that stretches its legs upwards. So said the gracious lord!”
I sat up in bed. It suddenly stank in the narrow chamber.
The air was hard to breathe, and my throat was choking me.
“Aren’t you ashamed, Gudel?” I felt as if I just had to cry
now.
“Why ashamed?” she cried angrily. “I have to do His
Grace’s bidding and also give the coarse Lord of Heist a warm
bed, as the great hunt goes. I do whatever it takes for me to
create.”
All of a sudden she grabbed me by the shoulders and
shook me with terrible force.
“Spit on me! Hit me! You make dogs out of men, you
cursed, you arrogant devil, and respect a poor woman no more
than a chair for the night, where you do your needy business
when it comes to you!”
Horrified, I jumped out of bed and rushed to the door.
Then she ran after me, threw herself down on the ground
and grabbed my knees.
“Have mercy! Do not listen to what I blabbed, most
gracious nobleman. Do forgive me! I will make it up to you –
kick me – but for the sake of God’s mercy say nothing to the
lord. It would be very bad for me – do you hear, Herr Squire?
And I have done you good this night, my gracious squire -“
“Don’t be afraid, Gudel,” I said, but I couldn’t speak any
more.