The Man Who Spoke Snakish

Thirty-Six

e took off our clothes and dried them by the fire, because capes wet with blood would get cold at night. Grandfather fiddled with his skulls, and when he’d got one mug ready, he threw it over his shoulder and started to make a new one. Chalices made from skulls were strewn across the forest floor like pinecones.

I went to sleep, and when I awoke to the first rays of the sun, Grandfather was still awake, still occupied with his skulls.

“Grandfather, you haven’t slept at all,” I said drowsily as I sat up yawning.

“I don’t have time for that,” replied Grandfather. “I’ve been squatting too long on the island; if I wasted my time sleeping now, I wouldn’t get anything done. Boy, eat your fill and get dressed. I’ll soon finish off the last mug and then we’ll keep on going and give the iron men another thrashing.”

“Yes, Grandfather,” I said. “We’ll keep on going.”

Yet it so happened that as we moved ever onward, so we were also moving backward, for the forest roads were circuitous, and we didn’t even try to keep moving in a certain direction, but wandered wherever our feet took us and where there was a chance of meeting iron men or monks. And so I discovered on one such evening that the surroundings were somehow familiar, and having walked a while longer I recognized the place where the wolves had killed the villagers’ sheep, the place where I had met Magdaleena, and fallen in love with her for the first time.

“Grandfather, we’ve come back home,” I said. “Our old shack isn’t far away.”

“Do you want to call in there?” asked Grandfather.

I didn’t.

What would be the point. Mother wasn’t there anymore. Then it occurred to me that Salme should still be in her own cave with Mõmmi. I hadn’t seen my sister for ages. When Grandfather and I last set off from here, I didn’t have the time or the desire to say farewell to her. To tell the truth I hadn’t even thought of her, for in the terrible avalanche that had buried everyone dear to me in the course of one night, I had quite forgotten that Salme was still alive. “Grandfather, how would it be if we went and visited my sister?” I suggested. “You could get to know your other grandchild.”

“The one who married a bear?” asked Grandfather. “Let’s go; you have to be close to your relatives. They’re your own flesh and blood after all.”

We turned off the road into the forest. It wasn’t comfortable at all for Grandfather to fly there, for his wings were too wide and tended to get caught on branches. So he rose higher and hovered over the treetops like an eagle.

“Give me a shout when you get there and I’ll come down!” he called from above.

“I’ll do that,” I yelled back. “We don’t have much farther to go, that is if Salme’s still living in her old cave. Let’s hope she hasn’t moved out.”

Grandfather didn’t reply; he was circling over the forest, swooping down and then rising up again with powerful strokes of his wings.

“Boy!” he shouted. “There are iron men in the forest! I can see them! What do you think? Shall we give them a little flogging? Then you’ll have a few nice skulls as gifts to take, and a couple of shanks for the bear.”

“Why not, Grandfather!” I shouted back. “Where are they?”

“Over there!” he yelled, and in the next instant he was roaring in a terrifying voice, because from “over there” an arrow had come flying from a bow, and pierced his shoulder. Grandfather howled, grabbed the tail of the arrow in his teeth to pull it out, but only bit the arrow in two and fell tumbling out of the sky, catching his wings against the tree branches and ending up lying in the middle of a pile of bones formed from the wings.

“Grandfather, are you alive?” I screamed and rushed over to him, but at the same time the horsemen galloped out from behind the trees, together with their bowmen. They had been hunting in the forest, and their hunt had succeeded, because although they hadn’t found a single deer or goat, they had hit my grandfather. It had been a really good shot, and I had to admit that the iron men’s weapons were effective. At that moment, of course, I had no time to admire their bows; I had to protect my helpless grandfather lying on the ground, and myself, because the iron men were already attacking. I hissed, and the horses started to bolt as always, and iron men tumbled from the saddle. I rushed at them, and in a few moments my knife was red with blood. But there were too many of them and Grandfather was no help to me. I killed at least half of them, but they were all around me, and at one moment I felt something terribly heavy and sharp falling on my head, my skull crackled, and before I lost consciousness I had time to think that my skull would not make a good chalice, because now it had a hole in it. I fell spread-eagled and didn’t remember anything more.

My head hurt terribly. It was the only thing I was aware of. I would have liked to faint again, to be rid of this pain, but I wasn’t allowed to. Someone hurled cold water on my face. I opened my eyes with difficulty and saw the grimacing face of an iron man before me. He said something and laughed.

Seeing that I was conscious, he grabbed me by the collar together with another man and forced me upright. I saw that my clothes were covered all over with blood from my head wound. I was very weak and couldn’t even stand up, but I didn’t need to. The iron men tied me to a tree and the ropes kept me from falling.

Now I could look at my surroundings. We were on the seashore — at about the place where my sea journey with Hiie once began, which took me to Grandfather’s island. Back then, the shore had been full of angry wolves, and somewhere in the waves the malevolent Tambet had stood yelling curses at us. Now instead there were iron men. There were many of them and they were all looking toward me conversing among themselves and seemed to be waiting for something.

“Boy, how are you doing?” asked a hoarse voice. I turned my head as far as the cords allowed and saw Grandfather. He was also tied to a tree, standing upright for the first time since he lost his legs. His clothes were bloody. The broken end of the arrow still stuck out of his shoulder and one of his eyes was poked out.

“Now they’re going to make an end of us,” said Grandfather. “Shitty maggots they are! I got badly bashed when I fell, and when I came around, these badgers had already tied me up. I still managed to bite some of them, so they died on the spot. Then they poked one of my eyes out and bludgeoned me in the mouth to make my fangs fall out — but they have strong roots. Finally they called some fat man with big tongs to pull out my teeth, but I stung him in the hand, and they didn’t approach me anymore. Now I’m going to die with my fangs, as I’ve lived with them. Boy, you and I have had fun. We got properly stuck into these shitbags. A pity that I got this stupid arrow in my shoulder, otherwise we could’ve given them even more pain.”

“Never mind, Grandfather,” I consoled him. “It all had to end some time anyway.”

“I didn’t get to see your sister,” he continued. “That’s a real pity. There are so few of us left and, well, not even those few can get together.”

He was silent for a while, stared at the iron men and hissed loudly. Farther off, some horses tethered to trees started whinnying and trying to tear themselves free.

“No use in Snakish words either,” said Grandfather. “The horses might bolt, but these shitbags won’t sit in the saddle.”

Drums started to roll. Two men came up to us. They had in their hands a leather strap, with which they tied Grandfather’s mouth shut, probably so that Grandfather couldn’t use his fearful fangs. Grandfather whined bitterly. The men untied him from the tree, and without legs Grandfather collapsed onto his stomach. The iron men laughed and hooted with pleasure.

“Hold out, Grandfather!” I said. “You know I’m very proud of you. If there were more men like you, the Frog of the North would be flying in the sky by now and would gobble up these grinning idiots like a swallow eating a gnat.”

Grandfather looked at me and winked his only eye. Then he was dragged away.

On a little mound had been built something like a wooden floor. That was where Grandfather was taken. His clothes were ripped off him and he was shoved onto his stomach. Then his hands were chained to the edge of the floor and one man sat on his stumps, to keep his lower body in place.

Then one of the men took a large knife and cut through Grandfather’s back, starting at the neck and ending at his buttocks.

Grandfather snorted with pain and wriggled.

The man with the knife put his hands inside the wound and rummaged there. Grandfather’s eyes turned inside out, but he did not lose consciousness. Blood flowed across the wooden floor and dripped down onto the sand.

The man on his back had found his ribs. He took a small ax and started smashing them up.

Then he grabbed hold of them and pressed them outward, so that the ribs bristled out of Grandfather’s back like birds’ wings.

The iron men on the shore fell to whinnying approvingly and shouted something, flailing their arms as if trying to take flight.

Grandfather was still alive; he hit his head against the floor. Suddenly the strap holding his mouth shut broke. Grandfather roared and sank his teeth into his tormentor’s leg, which he had inadvertently left in front of his face.

The man shrieked in a strangely shrill voice and collapsed beside Grandfather. The others rushed to his aid, but after several rapid convulsions the bitten man fell silent. He was dead.

At the same time Grandfather hissed frantically, lashing out with his jaws in all directions and spitting dark blood.

One of the iron men leapt up angrily, grabbed a sword, and chopped Grandfather’s head off. It rolled down off the wooden floor and, since it was wet and viscous with blood all over, it was quickly covered with sand, so that it might simply be seen as a large sandy rock.

Grandfather’s trunk was lying contorted in a pool of blood. The body lacked legs and bony wings grew out of the ripped back. These were human bones, and therefore quite suitable for flying; they lacked only a windbag.

But of course there was no longer anywhere to get that from.

Then it was my turn. The men came and untied me from the tree. I was still very weak and started reeling, but they wouldn’t let me fall and dragged me quickly from the tree to the torture rack. One of the men slipped on the large puddle of blood covering it and my wounded head collided with his shoulder. I could not hold back a scream.

The men laughed and said something in their own language, which I didn’t understand, but I assumed they were saying something like: “That was nothing, just a joke. The real pain is still coming!”

I didn’t doubt that, because quite clearly it was going to be horrifically unpleasant to have your back cut open and your ribs bent out. But there was nothing to be done; Snakish would not help here.

They bound me up exactly as they had done with Grandfather and one of the men took up a knife. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lips, anticipating the first flash of pain on the back of the neck and everything that must follow it.

But the jab didn’t come. Nobody touched me, and the strange noises coming from the iron men enticed me to open my eyes again.

They were all still standing just as before — on a wide stretch of the shore, where they could best follow the bloody scene being played out. They were no longer laughing or craning their necks at the murder rack. Their heads were cocked toward the sea, and their necks seemed to have become unexpectedly heavy. There was something uncertain in their stance, giving the impression that their heads threatened to roll off their shoulders, and to prevent that and preserve their balance, they had to take a step toward the sea. And then another. But that didn’t help. Their necks would not straighten up; their heads drew them willy-nilly toward the sea, and though the iron men even tried with their hands to point their own heads in a different direction, they did not succeed and they were forced on the path their heads had chosen.

I looked at them from behind. Even those men whose task was to torture me to death no longer stood on the killing floor, but staggered like the other iron men step by step toward the sea, for that was where their imperious heads were tugging them. Their faces reflected extreme alarm and fear; they didn’t understand what was going on here with their willful skulls and where they were being drawn to. They squealed and clutched their own throats, but an unknown force that at this moment controlled their heads was stronger than they were.

I was still bound up, and couldn’t pull my hands and feet free of my fetters, although I tried with all my might. Here was an excellent opportunity to escape. I could not know how long such a miracle would last, and I struggled for all I was worth. But the fetters were strong, and there was nothing for me to do but lie and hope that this bizarre event would take the iron men as far as possible from me.

Their heads led them farther and farther toward the sea; the first iron men were already standing with their feet in the water and kept having to step ever farther. Now they were screaming in mortal fear. Ever farther into the sea their heads directed them, and they stumbled on like tethered sheep. They struggled to resist, but kept walking, for they had no strength to resist. One iron man of short build had now got so far into the sea that the water was up to his neck: he screamed like a madman but couldn’t stop, and the next moment the water rushed into his mouth. He disappeared into the waves.

Now the iron men all fully understood what kind of end awaited them; they howled and yelped, and one man took a knife from his belt and slit his own throat with it, to rid himself of his own murderous head. Thus he was saved from drowning, but not from death, and his body collapsed into the sea and colored the water red.

The other iron men were not so resolute. They screamed and yelled, waved their arms to heaven, and begged for help from their God, whom they obviously imagined to be lounging up there beyond the clouds, wondering at this peculiar scene. Nothing helped them. One by one they vanished into the sea, and when the waves had taken the last iron man’s head, an unexpected silence fell on the shore.

I took a deep breath. I was alive. I had been saved, though I didn’t understand how. What force had driven these men into the water, to voluntarily drown themselves? I didn’t know, and for the moment that wasn’t my greatest problem. I had to get free of my fetters and get out of this pool of blood into which the iron men had forced me, facedown. I wriggled like a snake, but the fetters would not give way.

“Wait, we’ll help you!” came a voice. I turned my head and saw two snow-white forms lumbering ahead with difficulty. It was Pirre and Rääk! For the first moment it was even difficult to recognize them, so old had they become. Their long white fur fluttered in the sea breeze and turned the Primates into great downy chicks. They were walking heavily, swaying and stumbling, but finally they reached me and with their long yellow paws unpicked the knots.

I sat up straight and groaned, for my wounded head was again hurting and my now-free limbs were throbbing. But that was nothing compared to the happiness that my back was still intact and my ribs still hidden within my body. I embraced the Primates and declared, “I thank you. How did you know to come here just at the right moment?”

“Everything can be seen from our tree,” said Pirre. “It’s only that we haven’t been walking for ages; that’s why it took a lot of time. If we’d been a little quicker, we would have had time to save your grandfather too.”

“Yes, it’s our fault that he had to die,” said Rääk. “We’re too old and terribly slow.”

“What happened to those iron men?” I asked. “What drove them to drown in the sea?”

“Lice,” replied the Primates proudly. “Our dear lice, which we’ve been studying and training all our lives. We sent them into the iron men’s hair and gave the command to move toward the sea. The lice started moving, and drew the men with them. It isn’t possible to stay in one place when a thousand lice want to go somewhere in your hair, not if they are given the power by the right Snakish words, the kind that humans no longer remember, not even you, my boy. Special old Primates’ Snakish words, which have power even over insects. They saved you and led the iron men into the water, sadly together with the poor lice, who sacrificed themselves for you, Leemet.”

“I’m very grateful to them,” I said. “But who will you study and teach now that all the lice perished in the sea?”

“Oh, there’ll be new ones born,” opined Pirre. “But we’re hardly likely to train them any longer. We really are too old. Besides, there would be no point, because after us no one will be able to talk to the lice anyway. Those lice that led the great throng into the sea today were the last ones that could be directed with Snakish words; the lice of the future will live their own lives and won’t obey anyone any longer.”

“So it is,” I replied. “All things come to an end. Today the last human with fangs died, the last human who could fly. In the future they’ll think that such things were possible only in fairy tales.”

I lit a big bonfire by the seashore, on which I burned my grandfather’s corpse. Then I said good-bye to the Primates, promising to come and see them soon, and went into the forest, to look for my sister and think about how to go on living.