By late afternoon, Jakup was finally starting to make headway on the last journey of his life. For an old man–and this may mean nothing to younger men–he had reached that point where going forward is much easier than going backward. These roads, between his former village and the much larger cities to the south, are the best representatives of the Barovian landscape. Sparsely populated by anything other than trees and wide open fields, you were as likely to come upon a abandoned town–where weeds reclaimed structures both modern and medieval–than an actual functioning one. In the fields were strewn scraps of metal, rubber, and burned matter, all remnants of four centuries of war, revolutions, and more revolutions. Still, as dusk set on all of it, filth and nature, Jakup couldn’t help but admire the stubborn beauty of his country.
A young man walked down the road in the opposite direction, approaching Jakup. At first it was unclear what he held in his hand due to the growing darkness. But as he came closer it appeared to be the outline of a large gun, a rifle perhaps. And when he was within full sight of Jakup, a nervous and anxious look appeared on the boy’s face. Jakup stopped in place, frozen by the gun. The young man, clearly having never carried a gun out in the open, also stopped.
“I’m not going to kill you,” the young man said, as afraid as Jakup was.
Jakup nodded, staring at the other with his old eyes. The sweat pouring from the armed boy’s forehead provoked a tenderness in him and, speaking softly, he asked, “What do
you
need a
gun for?What do you need a gun for? There’s nothing to hunt hear–”
“For revenge!” he declared, more trying to reassure himself than anyone else.
Jakup nodded again, sadly.
“Someone from a village across the field insulted her,” he continued, getting more and more upset by Jakup’s failure to understand, “The her I’m going to marry. They humiliated her and, so, humiliated me.”
“But what if ’someone’ also has a gun? And what if their better with it than you are? Then how will you marry this girl who,” Jakup looked down at the rifle, “you must care very much about?”
The boy shuddered slightly, but recomposing himself said, “Well, I must find one who doesn’t have a gun! You see, it makes no difference who it is. I only want to lie down with a beautiful woman, but how can I do that if I don’t get someone’s blood on my hands in honor of her? What would it matter if it was ‘the person’ or not, insulting someone is really no more of a crime then just happening to be in front of me”.
“Then,” Jakup said, throwing his one suitcase to the ground, “Kill me! I’m an old dying man. You kill me and it solves this problem without another young man’s body having to be found in these fields. If it doesn’t matter, than it doesn’t matter.”
The young man finally smiled and laughed, “But we’re friends now!”, he declared, picking up Jakup’s suitcase and dusting it, “I can not kill a friend. The people in that village,” he unknowingly pointed to where Jaukup had come from, “are all dogs anyway. Don’t worry. I like you, but I think you are too old to understand how things work now”, he laughed once more and nodded to his new friend.
“Well, if we are friends,” Jakup replied, seeing as it was getting darker, “then at-least promise me that from this point on the road (he pointed), to when you reach the village, you won’t look at the trees or the fields, but will, instead spend the entire time thinking of how foolish this is and try to convince your self otherwise.” And, as he took back his suitcase, he let out a large sigh.
The boy smiled some more, “Okay, okay. I will do that, old man and friend, but I think the whole time I shall have your voice in my head instead,” he rubbed Jakup’s shoulder, “I do hope we one day see each other again!”
And as they parted ways, Jakup quietly whispered ‘me too’.
Later on, the road Jakup walked down was pitch black and he saw the large flashing lights illuminate the sky and the loud explosive sirens echo throughout the fields. What few police there were in these parts were heading towards the village. Jakup prayed in the old tongue that his new friend was neither dead nor a murderer.
Click here for more of the Jakup Borovsky stories.
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