PIRIN

From the golden haze

From the golden haze CHAPTER I

An elegant mansion

It was in the sixteenth year of the Eighth Age of the world. The spring was now fading in the summer warmth.

From the golden haze, which as a moist canopy of vapour fluttered on the river in large, slow swirls, there came the shadow of a boat. A raft, more precisely. Long. With a wooden cabin astern, and an oarsman. Well made. It flowed on a shimmering carpet, with the accompaniment of the lilting, gentle, lapping water. In its wake some squawking ducks took flight, and well-feathered herons, and cormorants, which thereafter glided once again on the river, not too far away.

The river Pafantehes-yedo, which, as a quiet herdsman, led southward the waters of lake Pàndihalbar, was elegantly bordered by green cane thickets and tall shady trees. The tree-tops, almost still, only now and then shaken, were superbly pierced by countless blades of light; and with these they played, and danced, creating a carousel of a thousand flashes. When the trees thinned out, there one could see white sheds belonging to fishermen, or the little hunting castle of some nobleman. Peaceful riverside villages, country buildings raised alongside the banks… And then again, thick woods, on a long journey which the raft undertook without ever docking.

Eventually it came close to an elegant mansion lying in the delicate embrace of an inlet of the large river-mouth. The white plasters, the precious roofing in brown tiles, the stony turrets for watch, the put-out torches and the iron-beaten grate whence thin lines of rust would drip, the many porches and the chimneys, the archways… All of them saluted the approaching of the vessel, thereby joining the choir of sweet whispering leaves and the singing of the songbirds, luring the observer’s eye as a great artist’s sculptures would.

The raft came closer to the towering estate, bowing before a bridge of grey stone overcome by moss, and finally docking in an inward dock where the quay and other boats lay unarmed.

The rich landlord was standing on a stairway beside the docks, surrounded by a few servants awaiting his dispositions.

He was a tall man, with long, wealthy,cream-coloured clothes

He was a tall man, dressed in long, wealthy, cream-coloured clothes, enameled with metal-hued arabesques, and bearing many richly-wrought jewels. His hair was smooth, shiny as silk, the colour of winter snow, as his moustaches, the fine goatee and the eyebrows; and golden eyes, like glowing honey-drops. He was looking at the raft-cabin, whence a few servants helped a wheel-chaired boy getting off: olive-skinned, sharp features, black-haired, and a lively brown look in his eyes, alight with amber-like reflections.

The boy’s parents got off as well: a good-looking woman, also brown-skinned, and a blonde man of princely looks and fine hair, both of them richly dressed. They came closer to the landlord, waving their hands enthusiastically in his direction, as people coming back from a long trip, or those who are leaving for one. After their handshaking, the white-dressed man raised his glance to the disabled boy, with the expression of marvel one displays at seeing how much a long-unseen relative has grown, and with a gesture of his hand he commanded his servants to escort the boy inside the estate and to take his luggage from the raft.

The boy’s parents, moved, hugged the landlord and thanked him with great commotion, but, even more than their voices, it was their looks and abrupt silences talking, painstakingly, as it seemed, troubling the witnesses’ mind and filling their hearts with sorrow.

Some boxes filled with goods were disembarked by the servants, then the couple saluted the white-dressed man once more, bidding him their heartfelt farewell with barely a hint of a raised hand, which got lost in an air full of moist, peace and silence.

They got back on the raft and left the estate, sailing up the river and getting soon lost once more in the mist. The white-dressed man was still looking at the profile of the vessel fading on the horizon, after which, with a long sigh, he came back home to his guest.

He put his hands on the boy’s shoulders, then slightly caressed his head. “This is your home, so make yourself comfortable”, he told him. “After you get a change of dress and rest a while, we shall have dinner. Tomorrow I will introduce you to the servants, who are now also your servants. Ask them and you shall have whatever you want”. He halted a while, then added: “Welcome, boy”. The young man nodded and took his leave from the landlord with a look that would have been gratitude, but could not speak anymore. Maybe he had lost his voice. He had just bidden farewell to his mother and father, and he knew he would never see them again.