Three Arched Bridge

3

ASMALL CROWD OF PEOPLE, both familiar faces and strangers, had gathered round the man who had fallen in a fit, He shook and foamed, as if straining to thrust his limbs right across the Ujana e Keqe, while stretching his neck in the opposite direction. Someone tried two or three times to hold his head, as they usually do in such cases, so that he would not crack his skull in his convulsions, but it was impossible to hold still that half-bald cranium,

“It is a sign from on high,” said one of the bystanders. This was a thin man who, when we later asked what his business was, said he was a wandering fortune-teller,

“And what sort of sign is it?” someone else asked.

The man’s blank eyes gazed at the trembling victim, then at the surface of the river,

“Yes,” he muttered. “A sign from on high, Look how his movements span the waters, and the waters pass on their movements to him. My God, they understand each other.”

Those standing around looked at each other. The man on the ground seemed somewhat calmer now. Someone was holding his head,

“And what sort of sign is it, in your opinion?” someone asked again.

The man who said he was a wandering fortune-teller half closed his lifeless eyes.

“It is a sign from the Almighty that a bridge should be built here, over these waters,”

“Abridge?”

“Didn’t you see how he stretched his arms in the direction of the river? And that his body shook, just as a bridge shakes when a number of carts pass over it together?”

“Brr … It’s cold,’ someone said.

The sick man was quiet now’ his limbs only occasionally twitching in their last spasms, as if they had wound down. Someone bent over and wiped the foam from the edges of his lips. His eyes were desolate and dull

“This is a holy sickness,” the fortune-teller said. “In our parts, they call it the foaming. It always comes as a sign. The sign can portend evil and warn of an earthquake, for instance, but this time, praise God, the omen was a favorable one.”

“A bridge … this is strange,” the people standing about started saying. “Our liege lord must be told of this.” “Who is the lord of these parts?” “Count Stres of the Gjikas, long life to him. Are you a foreigner then, not knowing a thing like that?” “That’s right, brother, from abroad. I was waiting for the raft when that wretch …” “This must certainly reach the ear of our liege lord. Well, a bridge? To be honest, we would never have thought of such a thing!”