them.”
Martya shuddered. “We should not talk of him.”
“His summer home was near here, on the lake. Someone or something is seen there, in summer particularly. A man, often large, with eyes of fire. Is this a demon, you would say? Or a ghost?”
“I’ve got no idea. What do you think?”
“No more have I. When my grandfather lay dying, he was visited by a small boy with golden hair, also wings like a flying flower. Roque was this boy’s name. I could not see him. You understand this? My grandfather sees him and describes him to me.”
I nodded. “Sure.”
“For his sufferings, my grandfather’s sins had been forgiven by God. Roque told him this. When he is no more, his soul will go to God in heaven where no sickness is, no filth. ‘Always Roque is so happy,’ my grandfather told me. ‘He laughs and makes jokes. Listen, Peterke, and you may hear him laughing.’”
I nodded again. “Did you listen?”
“Yes. I hear the tinkle of a little bell. There is such a bell on the garden gate. It rings when callers come into the garden. It does not ring in wind, unless the wind blows storm. You understand this?”
Martya said, “Many peoples have such bells.”
“I go to a window and look. Never have I seen the bell dance so, but I cannot hear it. The wind does not blow for the trees do not move. I open the window. There is no wind, and still I cannot hear the dancing bell. There is no one in the garden. Is Roque an angel, do you think? Or a fairy?”
I said, “I have no idea.”
Martya shook her head. “I do. It is a fairy”—( Fee )—“your grandfather see.”
“You are young and wise.” The small man shrugged. “I am old and stupid. I do not know.”
I ate another strawberry and asked him why he was telling us this.
“Because of the house you rent. There are many tales. What is it in your country that waits near a treasure to guard?”
“The cops.”
The small man chuckled. “Here, not. They send it to the capital and it is not seen again. Here…” He paused for a wry grin. “Sometimes ghosts, sometimes demons, sometimes fairies. Most often, we do not know. I know a man who saw such a one, a black dog with eyes of fire.”
“Like Vlad,” I said.
He agreed. “But who shall say what it was? The angel drives Adam from paradise with a sword of fire, and fairies take such shapes to frighten us. Who shall say?”
Martya asked, “Where is it he see this dog?”
The small man ignored her. “I have said many things I shall do for you,” he told me. “I will have your baggage returned to you, seek to have your charges dismissed and your passport in your hands once more, and arrange that the rent shall remain unchanged. One thing more I do. There is a priest I shall send to you.”
5
A MAN IN BLACK
When Martya and I returned to the Willows, I took down the mirror. I was on the top step of our stepladder, and it was all I could do to get down the steps holding the mirror out in front of me. Martya screamed and I nearly dropped it.
There had been, just like Martya had told me, a dead woman behind it. She was scooched down in a hollow in the wall, looking like a mummy nobody had wrapped up. She had long, pale hair.
“We must get her down.” Martya was still gasping. “With one of these sheets we will cover her. A Christian burial. She need that.”
I said, “It might be better to leave her right where she is and call the police.”
“What is this! You wish to rot in Herrtay? Never do you get out, fool! Someone they must blame. No!”
It was hard to get myself to touch the dead girl at first, but pretty soon I was worrying about hurting her when I did it. She felt like I might break off an arm or something trying to get her out. Her skin felt like rotten leather and it seemed like she might fall apart any minute. I was about to lay her on the floor when I saw Martya had pulled the dustcover off a narrow couch upholstered in peacock blue silk. As reverently as I could
Martya shuddered. “We should not talk of him.”
“His summer home was near here, on the lake. Someone or something is seen there, in summer particularly. A man, often large, with eyes of fire. Is this a demon, you would say? Or a ghost?”
“I’ve got no idea. What do you think?”
“No more have I. When my grandfather lay dying, he was visited by a small boy with golden hair, also wings like a flying flower. Roque was this boy’s name. I could not see him. You understand this? My grandfather sees him and describes him to me.”
I nodded. “Sure.”
“For his sufferings, my grandfather’s sins had been forgiven by God. Roque told him this. When he is no more, his soul will go to God in heaven where no sickness is, no filth. ‘Always Roque is so happy,’ my grandfather told me. ‘He laughs and makes jokes. Listen, Peterke, and you may hear him laughing.’”
I nodded again. “Did you listen?”
“Yes. I hear the tinkle of a little bell. There is such a bell on the garden gate. It rings when callers come into the garden. It does not ring in wind, unless the wind blows storm. You understand this?”
Martya said, “Many peoples have such bells.”
“I go to a window and look. Never have I seen the bell dance so, but I cannot hear it. The wind does not blow for the trees do not move. I open the window. There is no wind, and still I cannot hear the dancing bell. There is no one in the garden. Is Roque an angel, do you think? Or a fairy?”
I said, “I have no idea.”
Martya shook her head. “I do. It is a fairy”—( Fee )—“your grandfather see.”
“You are young and wise.” The small man shrugged. “I am old and stupid. I do not know.”
I ate another strawberry and asked him why he was telling us this.
“Because of the house you rent. There are many tales. What is it in your country that waits near a treasure to guard?”
“The cops.”
The small man chuckled. “Here, not. They send it to the capital and it is not seen again. Here…” He paused for a wry grin. “Sometimes ghosts, sometimes demons, sometimes fairies. Most often, we do not know. I know a man who saw such a one, a black dog with eyes of fire.”
“Like Vlad,” I said.
He agreed. “But who shall say what it was? The angel drives Adam from paradise with a sword of fire, and fairies take such shapes to frighten us. Who shall say?”
Martya asked, “Where is it he see this dog?”
The small man ignored her. “I have said many things I shall do for you,” he told me. “I will have your baggage returned to you, seek to have your charges dismissed and your passport in your hands once more, and arrange that the rent shall remain unchanged. One thing more I do. There is a priest I shall send to you.”
5
A MAN IN BLACK
When Martya and I returned to the Willows, I took down the mirror. I was on the top step of our stepladder, and it was all I could do to get down the steps holding the mirror out in front of me. Martya screamed and I nearly dropped it.
There had been, just like Martya had told me, a dead woman behind it. She was scooched down in a hollow in the wall, looking like a mummy nobody had wrapped up. She had long, pale hair.
“We must get her down.” Martya was still gasping. “With one of these sheets we will cover her. A Christian burial. She need that.”
I said, “It might be better to leave her right where she is and call the police.”
“What is this! You wish to rot in Herrtay? Never do you get out, fool! Someone they must blame. No!”
It was hard to get myself to touch the dead girl at first, but pretty soon I was worrying about hurting her when I did it. She felt like I might break off an arm or something trying to get her out. Her skin felt like rotten leather and it seemed like she might fall apart any minute. I was about to lay her on the floor when I saw Martya had pulled the dustcover off a narrow couch upholstered in peacock blue silk. As reverently as I could
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