Three Arched Bridge by Ismail Kadare

Author:Ismail Kadare [Kadare, Ismail]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Historical
ISBN: 9781611455915
Google: YEX2xBHUtn4C
Amazon: 1559703687
Barnesnoble: 1559703687
Publisher: Arcade Publishing
Published: 1994-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

31

THROUGHOUT THE FOLLOWING DAYS he was always seeking me out, and as soon as he found me he would do what he could to bring the conversation around to the immurement of the bride* He spoke of it as if it were an event that had happened two weeks before, and as if he was charged with its investigation. Gradually he involved me too. For hours on end I could think of nothing but a semidesert place under a scorching sun, where three workmen kept building walls that could never be finished* As we talked about the legend, we carefully analyzed it strand by strand, trying to account for its darker sides and to establish a logical link between its contradictory parts.

He asked me which of the three brides had children, and whether perhaps the youngest had none, as was easy to believe, and whether this was the reason why she was the one who was sacrificed. But I explained to him that all three had children, and I even apologized for not telling him the end of the story, in which the young wife who was immured begged her murderers (1 used the actual word) to leave one breast outside the wall, so that even after her death she could suckle her child. He nearly lost his temper at my omission, shaking his finger almost threateningly at me, and told me not to do such a thing ever again, Because we were both of us at the time steeped in a strange world, his threat made no impression on me, although this is not something that I could normally forgive anyone. At this point 1 also told him about the curse that the sacrificed wife lays on the stonework in the two famous lines:

O tremble, wall of stone,

As I tremble in this tomb!

“This can be taken in a technical way,” he butted in, “Because … at least bridges … every bridge in a way sways all the time.”

This interjection on his part made no particular impression on me, but when a little later he said that immuring a person in fact weakens a structure, I interrupted:

“Tell me, please, whether you are a collector of tales or a builder.”

“Oh,” he said. “I’m in no way a builder, but Tve learned something about the subject from working alongside builders. In fact, all great building works resemble crimes, and vice versa, crimes resemble.” He laughed, “For me, there is no difference between them. Whenever 1 find myself in front of columns I can clearly see blood spattering the marble, and the victim might replace a cathedral”

Whenever he left 1 felt dumbfounded.

One day he knocked before dawn to tell me something new that he had thought of during the night, 1 was still sleepy and could barely take in what he said. Finally 1 understood, He was saying that in his opinion the youngest brother too must have told his wife everything on that unforgettable night before the sacrifice.

“How is that possible?” I said.

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