Three Arched Bridge by Ismaíl Kadaré Page B

“voice,”
dhe
, “earth,”
det
,“sea,”
udhe
, “journey,” and
haes
, “eater.” He laid down his spoon.
    â€œEat, ghost,” I said, staring almost with fear at his spoon, which seemed to be the only tool binding him to the world of the living.
    â€œThese are amazing things you say,” he said.
    â€œWhen someone borrows your words for gods, it is like borrowing a part of your soul,” I said after a pause. “But never mind, this is no time for useless boasting. Now the Ottoman language is casting its shadow over both our languages, Greek and Albanian, like a black cloud.”
    He nodded.
    â€œWars between languages are no less fateful than wars between men,’ he said.
    I was saddened myself by the topic I had embarked on,
    â€œThe language of the east is drawing nearer,” 1 repeated after a while. We looked deep into each other’s eyes, “With its
‘-Ink’
suffix,’ I went on slowly, “Like some dreadful hammer blow,”
    â€œAlas for you,’ he said,
    I shook my head in despair,
    â€œAnd nobody understands the danger,’ I said,
    â€œAh,’ he said, and with a sudden movement,, as if freeing himself from a snare, he rose from the table.
    He was now free to become a ghost again.

26
    T HREE DAYS AFTER BROCKHARDT LEFT , the bridge was damaged again. This time it was no longer a matter of cracks and scratches; some stones in its central piers had been removed. The strangest thing was that some of these stones were dislodged beneath the surface of the water, and this, apart from adding to people’s terror, caused great trouble to the builders. It was almost impossible to carry out repairs underwater until the river subsided again next summer.
    This second intervention of the spirits of the water caused general horror. Despite the rage of the master-in-chief and his assistants (the designer’s head might appear like a bolt of lightning at any part of the bridge), the pace of work slackened at once. Instead of the mud from the building site, terrifying rumors spread out from the sand of the riverbank, which now resembled some blighted plain. But these rumors spread faster and farther than the mud.
    Some of the workmen began to abandon their work. Clutching their bags, and with their wages unclaimed^ they stealthily left their work at night, considering it cursed.
    Increasingly, people in their interminable conversations began to voice the opinion that the bridge must be destroyed before it was too late.

27
    T HE BRIDGE’S MASTER-IN-CHIEF left unexpectedly one morning before dawn, Nobody knew where he went or why; it was understood that he himself had given no explanation, On the previous day he had struck his two assistants with a whip of hogshair, accompanying the blows with various strange insults: dog, telltale, liar, mangy cur, arch-asshole, He then threw away his whip and was seen no more.
    Work on the bridge proceeded more sluggishly than even Gjelosh wandered miserably around the master-in-chief s hut, repeatedly putting his eye or ear to the keyhole. The punished assistants turned up here and there with the whip marks on their faces. One of them, the lean one, was bitterly angry, as outraged as a man could be at the marks of the lashes, while the other man, the stocky one, seemed pleased and seized every opportunity to show off his black welts, almost as proud of them as if they had been a certificate of commendation.
    Meanwhile, in the absence of the master-in-chief, work on the bridge slackened daily, Everybody was convinced that he would never return and that nothing now remained but the decision to pull down the bridge, or at least abandon it to the mercy of the waters.
    But the master-in-chief returned as unexpectedly as he had left. A group of official persons accompanied him, They had barely arrived before they went to the site of the damage, where they remained for hours on end. They