That’s the purpose of the regulation. And even so, we would be taking on a big risk, because who knows whether your son would have a son himself?”
“And short-term credit?” Borlon asked.
“With what do you intend to pay it back?” the guildmaster asked tersely.
“I’ll tie another carpet,” Borlon assured him hastily. “If I should have no heir, I can pay back the loan with it, and if I actually do have a son, then the credit could be changed over to a long-term loan.…”
The old man sighed. “I’m sorry, Borlon. I’m really sorry for you, because I have always valued you, and I loved the carpet you were making. But I am responsible to my office, and at the moment, I think I have a more realistic view of things than you do. First, you’re no longer very young, Borlon. How large a carpet can you make, even if you work until you’re blind? And a carpet that doesn’t reach the prescribed dimensions will draw an extremely low price, as you know. In most cases, one would have to be satisfied if the trader took it at all. And second, you’d have to do your work on a new carpet frame whose wood still has to settle and which hasn’t yet been under tension for decades. Everyone knows—and you know it, too—that you can’t achieve the same quality on a new frame as on an old one. And you want to build a house, you have to live—I can’t see how you could accomplish all that.”
Borlon listened in disbelief while the guildmaster, whom he had considered a friend in good times and from whom he had hoped for help, delivered blow after blow without mercy.
“But … what should I do, then?”
The guildmaster looked at the floor and said quietly, “It happens from time to time that a carpet maker’s line comes to an end. Some die young or without heirs—that’s always been the case. Then, the guild looks for somebody who wants to fill the vacant position and found a new line, and we take care of his training and so on.”
“And give him credit.”
“If he has a son, yes.”
Borlon hesitated. “One of my wives … Narana … she may be pregnant.…”
It was a lie and they both knew it.
“If she bears you a son, the credit will be no problem, I promise you,” the guildmaster said, and stood up.
At the door, he turned around again. “We’ve talked a lot about money, Borlon, and very little about the meaning of our work. In this difficult time, I think you should try to renew your faith. There’s a preacher in the city, I’ve heard. Maybe it would be a good idea for you to look him up.”
* * *
Borlon sat motionless after the guildmaster had gone and brooded in numb silence. Soon Karvita entered and asked about the outcome of the discussion. He just shook his head angrily.
“They don’t want to give me a loan, because I have no son,” he finally explained when she persisted.
“Then let’s try,” she responded immediately. “I’m not too old yet to have children.” Reluctantly, she added, “And Narana’s not nearly too old.”
Why was everything the way it was? Why did everything have to be this way? You spend your entire life on one single carpet …
“And what if it still doesn’t work? Karvita, why have we been together for so long and still don’t have any children?”
She looked him over while her hands played with a lock of her blue-black hair. “Your son,” she said cautiously, “just has to be borne by one of your wives. But it isn’t really necessary that … you also father him!”
What was she daring to suggest to him? Penniless and battered by fate—now he was supposed to let himself be dishonored?
“It would naturally have to be done with the greatest discretion…,” his wife continued her thoughts.
“Karvita!”
She looked into his eyes and stopped in fright. “Pardon me, it was just an idea. Nothing more.”
“Do you have any more ideas like that?”
She was silent. After a while—after she gave him a cautious glance—she
“And short-term credit?” Borlon asked.
“With what do you intend to pay it back?” the guildmaster asked tersely.
“I’ll tie another carpet,” Borlon assured him hastily. “If I should have no heir, I can pay back the loan with it, and if I actually do have a son, then the credit could be changed over to a long-term loan.…”
The old man sighed. “I’m sorry, Borlon. I’m really sorry for you, because I have always valued you, and I loved the carpet you were making. But I am responsible to my office, and at the moment, I think I have a more realistic view of things than you do. First, you’re no longer very young, Borlon. How large a carpet can you make, even if you work until you’re blind? And a carpet that doesn’t reach the prescribed dimensions will draw an extremely low price, as you know. In most cases, one would have to be satisfied if the trader took it at all. And second, you’d have to do your work on a new carpet frame whose wood still has to settle and which hasn’t yet been under tension for decades. Everyone knows—and you know it, too—that you can’t achieve the same quality on a new frame as on an old one. And you want to build a house, you have to live—I can’t see how you could accomplish all that.”
Borlon listened in disbelief while the guildmaster, whom he had considered a friend in good times and from whom he had hoped for help, delivered blow after blow without mercy.
“But … what should I do, then?”
The guildmaster looked at the floor and said quietly, “It happens from time to time that a carpet maker’s line comes to an end. Some die young or without heirs—that’s always been the case. Then, the guild looks for somebody who wants to fill the vacant position and found a new line, and we take care of his training and so on.”
“And give him credit.”
“If he has a son, yes.”
Borlon hesitated. “One of my wives … Narana … she may be pregnant.…”
It was a lie and they both knew it.
“If she bears you a son, the credit will be no problem, I promise you,” the guildmaster said, and stood up.
At the door, he turned around again. “We’ve talked a lot about money, Borlon, and very little about the meaning of our work. In this difficult time, I think you should try to renew your faith. There’s a preacher in the city, I’ve heard. Maybe it would be a good idea for you to look him up.”
* * *
Borlon sat motionless after the guildmaster had gone and brooded in numb silence. Soon Karvita entered and asked about the outcome of the discussion. He just shook his head angrily.
“They don’t want to give me a loan, because I have no son,” he finally explained when she persisted.
“Then let’s try,” she responded immediately. “I’m not too old yet to have children.” Reluctantly, she added, “And Narana’s not nearly too old.”
Why was everything the way it was? Why did everything have to be this way? You spend your entire life on one single carpet …
“And what if it still doesn’t work? Karvita, why have we been together for so long and still don’t have any children?”
She looked him over while her hands played with a lock of her blue-black hair. “Your son,” she said cautiously, “just has to be borne by one of your wives. But it isn’t really necessary that … you also father him!”
What was she daring to suggest to him? Penniless and battered by fate—now he was supposed to let himself be dishonored?
“It would naturally have to be done with the greatest discretion…,” his wife continued her thoughts.
“Karvita!”
She looked into his eyes and stopped in fright. “Pardon me, it was just an idea. Nothing more.”
“Do you have any more ideas like that?”
She was silent. After a while—after she gave him a cautious glance—she
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