THE TIME OF CORNSPIKE

During the first autumn full moon Cornspike dug up the roots of herbs – soapwort, comfrey, coriander, chicory, and marshmallow. There were lots of them growing by the ponds in Primeval. So Cornspike would take her daughter with her, and they would walk by night through the forest and village.

One day as they were passing Maybug Hill, they saw a hunched female figure surrounded by dogs. The silver moonlight was making the tops of all their heads white.

Cornspike headed towards the woman, pulling Ruta after her. They went up to the old woman. The dogs began to growl anxiously.

“Florentynka,” said Cornspike softly.

The woman turned to face them. Her eyes were faded, as if rinsed out. Her face was like a shrivelled apple. A skinny grey plait lay on her thin shoulders.

They sat on the ground next to the old woman. They started gazing, as she was, at the great, round, self-satisfied face of the moon.

“He took my children, he fooled my old man, and now he’s muddled my senses,” complained Florentynka.

Cornspike sighed heavily and stared into the face of the moon.

One of the dogs suddenly began to howl.

“I had a dream,” said Cornspike. “The moon knocked at my windows and said: ‘You haven’t got a mother, Cornspike, and your daughter hasn’t got a grandmother, is that right?’ ‘Yes,’ I replied. And then he said: ‘In the village there is a good, lonely woman, whom I once wronged, I don’t even know why any more. She hasn’t any children or grandchildren. Go to her and tell her to forgive me. I am old now and I have a weak mind.’ That’s what he said. And then he added: ‘You’ll find her on the Hill, that’s where she curses me, every month when I appear to the world in my complete form.’ Then I asked him: ‘Why do you want her to forgive you? What do you need a human being’s forgiveness for?’ And he replied: ‘Because human suffering carves dark furrows on my face. One day I’ll be extinguished by human pain.’ That’s what he told me, so here I am.”

Florentynka stared piercingly into Cornspike’s eyes.

“Is that the truth?”

“It is. The pure truth.”

“He wanted me to forgive him?”

“Yes.”

“And for you to be my daughter, and her my granddaughter?”

“That’s what he told me.”

Florentynka raised her face to the sky and something shone in her pale eyes.

“Granny, what’s the big dog’s name?” asked little Ruta.

“Billygoat.”

“Billygoat?”

“Yes. Give him a pat.”

Ruta cautiously held out her hand and put it on the dog’s head.

“He’s my cousin. He’s very wise,” said Florentynka, and Cornspike saw tears running down her wrinkled cheeks.

“The moon is just a mask for the sun. He puts it on when he comes out at night to keep an eye on the world. The moon has a short memory, he can’t remember what happened a month ago. He gets everything mixed up. Forgive him, Florentynka.”

Florentynka sighed deeply.

“I forgive him. Both he and I are old, why should we have to quarrel?” she said quietly. “I forgive you, you old fool!” she shouted into the sky.

Cornspike began to laugh, laughing louder and louder, until the dogs woke up and leaped to their feet. Florentynka started laughing, too. She stood up, spread her arms, and raised them into the sky.

“I forgive you, Moon. I forgive you for all the wrong you have done me!” she cried, loud and shrill.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, from over the Black River a breeze sprang up and ruffled the old woman’s grey locks. A light came on in one of the houses and a man’s voice shouted:

“Shut up, woman! We’re trying to sleep.”

“So go to sleep, sleep yourselves to death!” shouted Cornspike over her shoulder in reply. “Why on earth were you born if you’re only going to sleep?”

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