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Please note: I originally tried to upload the book’s front cover, featuring the author’s own original artwork, but unfortunately it was gently flagged as NSFW 😅. Since the image didn’t make it through, I’ve shared the author’s Goodreads profile instead for anyone curious about both the book and its distinctive cover design. Thanks 😊.
Chapter 1
1890
''... How many would like to get out of this world at the cheapest price?''
It was these fourteen words that took Otto closer to the village until in the end he went to live in it. He had once paid it a casual visit by chance, though chance for him was inexistent. Many years had now elapsed since his artist friend had asked him that specific question.
Otto did not hail from those parts, he came from Munich, the Bavarian capital city, a region containing such cities as Augsburg, Fürth, Regensburg and Nuremberg, some twenty-five kilometers away from which one finds this village amidst hilly countryside.
Forests and streams snaked idly in the vicinity of the village which was rather small compared to with others, with an urban line almost the size of a city.
It was very little known. Sometimes it was not even identified on the map, and the only thing that counted was the diligence of a community absorbed with work. When the day was done, silence once again gained the upper hand, as usual, save for the barking of some dog or the rippling sound of the streams.
A short distance away lay a simple graveyard, sober, contrasting sharply with the vivaciousness of the village-square. Adjacent to the church stood a convent which served as an orphanage. The nuns never let the church lack for anything, with an occasional helping hand from the endearing orphans.
Fr Martin, the parish priest, and his assistant Fr Friedrich where thoroughly satisfied with this. Nothing rendered them happier than the solidarity between the parishioners, and it was not the first time that during the homily, young Friedrich conferred on them some compliment.
Once he even compared them with the first Christians who ere mentioned in the Acts of The New Testament. Such edifying words were balm for those folk just coming back from a hard day's work.
Otto, aged about forty, used to smile at Fr Martin's stories whenever he invited him over to his house. He was not married but he could have well been deemed to be.
Many turned to him for advice, some even giving him precedence over the parish priest. Otto and Fr Martin were the greatest of friends.
The parish priest never minded seeing his parishioners turn to his friend rather than to him, ''No problem, my dear friend... if nothing else, less work for me,'' were the priest's usual comments.
Otto lived alone in a humble house but lacked for nothing. What he held most dear was a small library in his sitting-room which, though not large in size, contained a number of manuscripts and books which would not have compared badly with those in the Vatican archives.
Another thing he held dear was a self-portrait painted by his artist friend who used to dwell in the village, though then he no longer did.
Profession-wise, Otto was a writer, a contributor to a renowned paper which, however, was not sold in the village. He used to take his researched articles down to Nuremberg where the printing-press operated.
A trait of his was his occasional escape from mundane life. The villagers understood him very well, aware that brains such as his needed time to themselves.
To tease him, they used to reiterate that to find peace he had to marry as quickly as possible. ''I used to consider you my real friends,'' he would answer ironically to keep abreast with them.
The orphanage was crowded with children hailing mostly from Nuremberg and from the surrounding area. Amongst them was a girl called Nadia, pretty and as lively as a doe. She was ten years old. Sister Cecilia loved her as if she were her own daughter. The girl was always with her whenever
Fr Friedrich happened to be indisposed. She was deeply attached to him and would never leave him alone when on some outing in the country with the other children.
She would either tease the other orphans or give him a good scare feigning some sort of accident. She used to do everything to attract his attention to which the young priest would immediately succumb.
He used to spend more time with her than with the other children and it was not the first time that this raised protests from the Mother Superior.
The abbess warned him many times not to be preferential with the children though this was hardly of any interest to them. What really mattered to the children was running and jumping about, never caring if the priest bothered with them or not.
These outings were very important even for little Klaus who dwelt with his mother in the village. He was absolutely besotted with Nadia although he had never managed to speak to her. He was twelve, shy, reluctant to socialize with other children. He had lost his father when he was two. He had no other siblings.
Klaus used to look forward to Sunday every day, after having been engaged as an altar-boy thus to be close to Nadia during Mass, besides having a good chance of seeing her in the countryside from behind the rubble wall near the oak tree.
One day the other children intercepted him. He felt miserable but once the teasing was over he swore that if there were another bullying round he would drag one of them into the woods and leave him there.
The wood had a strange effect on the children thanks to a very odd man of about thirty who dwelt in it. The children were wary of Hans with his dense beard and his rumpled hair, living in isolation from the rest of mankind.
They were terrified of him. The sisters were always threatening them with the man from the wood whenever they misbehaved but this blackmail never had any effect on Nadia.
In fact, Hans was an enigma for the locals. He had not been living there for long. They knew nothing about him and this fact caused them more concern. In truth, Hans has led quite a speculative life but had decided to change his ways.
Before going to live there he had resided in Nuremberg. A crucial moment was a hot argument he had had with a miserable wretch which had almost cost him his life. For some time he had dwelt in two rooms in the village, but the locals remained hostile towards him.
He knew nobody, until Otto heard what was being said. It seemed a case of immediate friendship. Hearing his story, Otto advised him to fix up an uninhabited hovel in the midst of the wood, promising him also physical and financial help, which he actually gave. Otto was not the only good Samaritan.
Both the parish priest and his assistant helped him as much as they reasonably could. In a few weeks, the the work was finished. Hans began to till the land it was not long before he saw the first results.
Since he had been living in the wood, Hans had managed to learn carpentry very well. Orders came even from the parish priest. One day, the latter commissioned a new consecration table to be lain in front of the altar. It was a big challenge for him, but he had a will of steel.
During this same time Franz had returned to the village after years studying architecture in town. His mother lived alone having lost her husband when Franz was still a small boy.
On his occasional visit to his mother he always spared some time for his friend Otto, with whom he used to spend hours in discussion. He was about twenty-five, with quite a strong temperament but cultured and well-behaved.
Apart from Otto, Franz admired Karl Marx. Besides architecture he was interested in politics so he could not be but a declared socialist.
Contrary to his mother he was not religious, a total disbeliever. His mother often insisted that he went to Mass whenever he happened to be home. He used to obey her. Then he would go straight to his friend's. 'I cannot invest my time better than being close to Otto's...' the architect used to repeat to himself.
On the other hand Otto, used to attend an occasional Mass or two. In a matter of a few months something really funny occurred.
Otto knew the little orphans very well, he had visited them several times, but knew Nadia more than the others thanks to her seraphic face and captivating hazel-green eyes. At church she was always restless. During Mass, Fr Friedrich saw that everyone paid attention.
On her part, Nadia invariably aped the priest, frustrating altar-boy Klaus since he never succeeded in catching her attention.
This was clearly evident to Otto but went completely unnoticed by the rest of the congregation. He used to smile, but he knew too, that everything carried a price...
Chapter 2
Eight years elapsed. It was 1898.
Klaus grew into a well-built young man. To give his mother a helping hand he had gone to Nuremberg where he tried a number of jobs, but all ended badly quarrelling with his fellow-workers. He was aggressive maybe due to his difficult childhood.
His mother was then quite an aged woman; Klaus was all she had in the world and she was the only one to provide him with solace and a vestige of shelter from a world seemingly set on ignoring him.
He had no friends but with the help of Fr Martin he found a job as a farmhand. He did not like it but a least it provided a steady salary.
Fr Friedrich returned to the village. He had spent some years studying in Munich. There, everything was not always rosy; very often he spoke ardently in favour of the pariahs of society and immediately he was considered a Socialist.
He missed the village a great deal and on his trip back home he expected to see changes but there were none. Somehow the village seemed immune to change.
One day he was in the sacristy preparing for Mass. He had been looking for the censer for over half-an-hour. Its place had always been in the sacristy, but it was no longer there.
''What are you looking for?'' asked the small altar-boy from the orphanage.
''The censer.''
''The last time I saw it, Sister Cecilia was cleaning it.''
''So she just had to choose a Sunday to do so, without telling me?''
''Well, what's that to you... she didn't tell you, she told me instead, which shows she trusts me more than she does you, right?''
''Look, I'd better move on before I vent myself on you, and it's time for Mass,'' mumbled Friedrich more to himself than to the boy.
A few quick strides and he stopped breathless by the sister's cell door. When he went in he found a beautiful girl as radiant as dawn itself. He felt paralyzed, as if he had been bitten by some venomous snake.
She smiled at him. The priest observed her: long chestnut hair and big hazel-green eyes. Friedrich stood gazing fixedly at her snow-white face contrasting with her scarlet lips which were still beaming at the priest.
For a moment he had totally forgotten why he was there. His hearth was thudding madly not just from the breathless run, but at the sight of that beautiful creature, like a painting of Venus by a Renaissance master. It was Sister Cecilia who brought him back to earth.
''Did you want anything Father?''.
''I... I came for the censer.''
''Oh yes, here it is. And by the way... do you remember Nadia?''
''Nadia?''
''Yes Nadia... the little girl you used to so dote upon.''
Nadia flushed him another smile. The priest recalled everything. He dared to observe her a little longer greeting her with difficulty. Then, totally at a loss, he took up the censer and left.
During Mass he could not chase her image from his mind. Then he strode to the sacristy, changed his vestments and fled to the countryside to regain his sanity. In the evening he stayed in his room where the very thought of her tormented him far into the night.
Otto was overjoyed on seeing Franz. The occasions for meeting had then become more rare since the architect had gone to live in Nuremberg because of his work.
''... I cannot understand why the Church is doing nothing to update this frozen Medieval mentality,'' Franz argued hotly, lighting a cigarette. ''How can it possibly keep its mouth shut seeing the signs of the times? It's true then, that from the faithful it demands only abject servility.
Does it behave so because it fears that a schooled, all-knowing flock would become aware that Christ as conceived by the Church and the one mentioned in the gospels are not one and the same?''
''My dear Franz... these things need time to mature. The matter lies in time.''
''I don't really know. But do you know what? Common people have always been manipulated by the powers that be.''
''It's the phenomena of History that dictates this.''
''I think that every phenomena remains such as long as Man doesn't shake off his fears. It is this, my dear friend, the fifth gospel that the Church imposes on its flocks to retain its status quo. I don't agree with you saying such things. Read the Das Kapital and you'll understand correctly what I am saying.''
''I've read the manifesto. It's a huge, complex treatise. Maybe Marx was the greatest thinker who succeeded in analyzing the laws that govern the evolution of History in a meticulous way.
But I also think that his theories are somewhat subjective, and therefore, subject to interpretation. Franz... society is much more complex than a grand-scale philosophical or economical treatise; it doesn't go by theories but according to the experience of this collective human structure.
If I were you, I would invest more in your personal garden than in utopias... these are nothing but imagined island you'd be only animating from your personal shore...''
Later on that evening, Otto looked at his friend's self-portrait, smiled, and went quietly to bed.
Things were not going so well for Klaus. He was nearly twenty. At his place of work he rarely socialized with his mates if it were not necessary. Lately, he had discovered that his mother had contracted and illness with no prospect of a cure, thus, there was more persistence from him to face the counter-currents.
Pressure intensified during the following months and it was not the first time that he spent his entire wages on drink. He did not care for girls. Actually, they did not care for him, although he had been blessed with more than his share of virility.
One day while roaming the countryside, he came upon the children from the orphanage. He had already decided to lower his head and move on but stopped in his tracks at the sight of a most beautiful girl.
Getting nearer he recognized her. 'Nadia!... ' As always Nadia looked lively, spirited, running about playfully with the other children. Klaus had never thought he would see her again, deducing that she had left the orphanage, got married and was living in town.
He gave vent to a fantasy world that absorbed in momentous thoughts and did not notice that Nadia had seen him. Then he got flustered and continued briskly on his way panting like a horse gone berserk.
On the way he reasoned that if he had had some more courage maybe he could have exchanged a word or two. 'What a bloody, idiotic oaf I am...' But the farther away he went the bolder he became. He swore that the next time round he would not waste a similar occasion.
Chapter 3
Fritz became well established in town, receiving as much work as he could handle. His fees were not exorbitant particularly for those financially hard up.
He did not treat everybody the same. From experience he discovered that the dearer the fees for the well-off, the more they sought him out; a rather psychological, erroneous belief of the well-off was that the higher the bill, the better the product. He used to smile at this absurdity.
An intrinsic good communicator, he managed quite a vast clientele, apart from the fact that he resorted to rhetorical arguments to express himself politically.
In his words, his clients detected a man of genuine disposition, if nothing else because normally a professional hardly ever bothered with the workers' class.
For the last few months, he had managed to attract the attention of some of the intellectuals who like him upheld the Marxist ideal. Initially they used to gather in the local breweries. Thenceforth, they organized themselves better.
With the help of some Jewish friends, mostly those linked with journalism, he went on to publish a leaflet with a Leftist message highly attractive in the people's eyes. The articles were well-received even by those whose opinion held water.
When Franz saw the response he decided to establish a movement. A week later a symbolic demonstration was held in the city streets aimed at safeguarding the workers' rights. A Sunday was chosen. The demonstration was to commence in White Tower Square which in those days used to be very crowded.
Those taking part came from every corner of the city. Some carried placards with social messages and critical barbs against the Government's management. They passed through the main streets near the River Pegnitz with Franz at the head amongst the others.
At first everything seemed to be going well until the arrival of the police, armed for any eventuality. The demonstrators became edgy. Insults were hurled, though most of them were directed at the Government.
As soon as military force appeared on the scene things got worse. Provocation was intended to create conflict. Heads got hotter. Some demonstrators started hurling things.
Chaos followed. The fighting lasted for more than half-an-hour before order was once again established, but not before some people were apprehended, Franz included, to be herded to the city's police station. The next day they awoke to possible imprisonment.
On that same morning in the village, whilst on a lesser scale, a veritable pandemonium had been on the verge of breaking loose. Hans had to go down to the village-square to collect the marble-slab for the consecration table which had to be delivered to him by someone commissioned by the parish priest.
Hans waited for him, but for some reason he did not turn up. From the other side of the square the agent made his entry on an enormous cart. Hans thought it was the man commissioned by Fr Martin.
In surly tones, the agent asked him if he were the person concerned. Hans replied in the affirmative. The other advised him not to waste his time and immediately show him the way. Hans told him he was expecting somebody else to do that. The agent, in menacing tones, warned him not to play any tricks on him.
Aggression on both sides gathered momentum. Hans began to see red but warily sought to control himself. People continued to gather around. Hans realized that it would be better to accede to the agent's wish. The villagers appreciated the conciliatory gesture though nobody dared intervene on his behalf.
On the way, the argument continued, the agent complaining about what had happened. It was a challenging feat of self-control for Hans to overcome the provocation. When they arrived home he paid him and the other went on his way.
Amongst those present during the foray was the sacristan. He hurried over to relate everything to the parish priest. Fr Martin was saddened to hear what had happened because of him. He went straight to the wood to find Hans tilling the fields.
The priest got the impression that nothing had happened, though he had expected to find him in a dark and gloomy mood.
Hans asked him in for a cup of tea and told him what had happened. Though he did his best to entertain the priest, it was evident that he was still seething.
Fr Martin got the message perfectly, paid Hans the money he had forked out from his own pocket and promised that on the first opportunity he would seek out the man who was supposed to have carried out the chore.
Chapter 4
Since the day he had met Nadia, Klaus never ceased to dream about her. The flicker in his heart flared into a passionate fire. He deduced that at last there was a glimmer of hope for the future. He dared to dream that Providence was going to turn a benign eye upon him.
The first thing that he wanted to do was to banish his shyness and lack of self-confidence, setbacks which had always been of such hardship for him along the years. He decided to face her.
That day he went out of his way to look his best; he had a haircut, shaved, put on his best clothes and slipped on a pair of shoes as shiny as a coffin.
Then he set out for the orphanage. On his way he sought to calm himself down. He tried, but the beating of his heart showed him otherwise. He arrived at the abbey, gave himself a few last touches, inhaled deeply and knocked.
An elderly nun appeared at the door measuring him up suspiciously. Klaus introduced himself and asked for the girl. The nun reassessed him and told him to wait. He could not make anything of her actions for the nun almost shut the door in his face.
Seconds seemed hours, he felt as if he were facing death on the gallows. He heard light footsteps, presuming they were Nadia's. She appeared before him as beautiful as a blooming tulip.
For him it was an agony to simply greet her. Nadia stood watching him. Klaus took heart. To bypass nervous stammering he went straight to the point. Nadia was as perplexed as a bee taken in by a synthetic flower, as she gazed at him, breathing excitedly, not at his sight, but at what he had said. Klaus forced his eyes to look straight into hers. He could hear his heart thudding.
''... Pardon me, but... what are you saying?'' the girl asked puzzled. ''I don't know what to say, I mean... I was never expecting such a visit. Not that there's anything wrong about it, but... at the moment I feel confused.''
''There's no need to be... after all, you've always known I was attracted to you. I showed you my feelings when we were younger and now that I've grown up I am re-affirming them.
I'm sure that you know perfectly well how I used to run after you all the time when we were children. What I felt for you then, I'm still feeling now. Well... now more than ever.''
Nadia detected a damaging precedent in his words. She reckoned that he was not going to change his opinion so easily. She could not find the right words to bring the situation under control.
''Klaus... I never believed that things would turn this way. You've left me speechless. It's true, I know you have fancied me since we were children and I always admired your occasional prank in those days. We never spoke to each other and so I presume that it needs great courage to declare your personal feelings to someone you hardly know. I admire all this.
But... although what I heard and what you said was so sudden, it doesn't mean that what I'm going to say is a spur-of-the-moment decision. I don't want to hurt you, but I don't want to deceive you either. Klaus... I love someone else. I'm sorry to hurt you but, I wanted to be as frank as you were.''
Klaus felt his soul taking leave of his body. Her rejective words echoed in his ears in sheer torment. The girl was going to say something but he rushed off suddenly, cursing his fate.
After the incident and his arrest, Franz had already visited his mother twice: the first time to set her mind at ease, the second one to see Otto.
''... All the fault lies with this puppet Government dangling on a string wherever the wind sways it,'' murmured the architect. ''Read the papers and see what an odious campaign they are waging against us.
They are making it known that what happened was nothing but a glorification of a totalitarian state described as an attempt against the nation's democracy, you know! How damnably ironic... we ended up behind bars when what we did was for a different reason.
Did you know that nobody had the guts to rebut our thwarted attempt? How decidedly odd! Did you know that while we were kept behind bars two big shots guilty of gross tax evasion but who happened to be close to the state commissioner, were set free? What sort of justice is this?''
''Franz, you cannot find true justice unless you look into yourself. I don't blame your persistence in upholding this reasoning... this is all a question of time. You see... it's so easy to pronounce the word 'justice' but so complicated to actuate it.
And regarding justice, remember also, as I often tell you, that man always ends up looking for it away from him rather than inside him, since it doesn't dwell inside him.''
''Fair enough... but remember also, Otto, that everybody is obliged to pen his personal life in this tragic book of human life, and woe betide him who writes his part with somebody else's pen.''
''You're right, Franz. So it should be... unfortunately...''
Chapter 5
After debating for a long time as to what was best to be done, Fr Friedrich decided to open his heart to the parish priest. Fr Martin understood him perfectly. Ever a practical man, he expounded that his feelings for Nadia were normal and there was no need to worry.
Friedrich felt relieved. But his problems persisted. An obstacle he had to reckon was facing Nadia almost daily. To his credit he tried his best to avoid her, but he felt utterly miserable.
Nadia's charm was not restricted to him alone but also to the man who happened to meet her in the village streets. They almost revered her as she passed by some local bar. Nobody dared pass a single comment; they knew what a kind of girl she was.
Although innately open, as she grew older Nadia realized that she had to behave prudently where men were concerned.
With Fr Friedrich, however, this was not the case. Whenever she met him she seemed as happy as a spring flower. Her eyes shone whenever she saw him. With him she could be explicit, maybe because of the beautiful memories she shared with the young priest in her childhood days.
Fr Friedrich was hardly pleased with all this as the months rolled by. In her presence he experienced heaven and hell.
He felt his heart sailing out of his body each time he saw her looking at him and he had to distance himself from her almost without a word; it was not long before Nadia realized that the young priest was trying to break all contact with her.
He hurt her profoundly and she tried to ignore him too but felt the tremendous emptiness he left behind. She consulted Sister Cecilia but what she heard from her intensified her emotional sufferings even more.
It had been a very long time since Fr Martin had last seen Hans. That day the priest was going downtown. Before doing so he wanted to pay Hans a visit to once again apologize for the incident of the marble-slab. He also wanted to see how work on the consecration table was proceeding.
''What brought you here? You lost your way?'' beamed Hans. ''You know, the fact that you don't like coming down to the village doesn't mean that I can't come over and see you, as long as I am welcome.'' ''You're always welcome... as long as you don't bring over the rest of the villagers.'' retorted Hans jokingly.
''Don't ever imagine it. Let me tell you, however... I like peace and quiet too. I wish I was surrounded by this kind of silence!''
It's not as easy as it seems. To love silence you must first learn Man's distorted vocabulary. Only when you have done so will you appreciate silence.''
''True enough... you are right. As a matter of fact, one of the reasons for my visit is to apologize again for that incident. When I called the other time it wasn't the opportune moment, for you were justly furious. I don't blame you. If it happened to me most probably I'd have behaved the same way, if not worse.''
''No need to... after all, it was none of your fault. Well, it's true that I'm not terribly welcome to the villagers but that doesn't mean they are right.''
''Indeed.''
''Come, let's go and have a cup of tea together... As I was telling you, work on the consecration table is progressing steadily. There's lots of work to do...''
When it was time to go, Fr Martin bade farewell to Hans and resumed his way to the station. After seeing to some business, he went to a particular coffee-house where Franz was waiting for him. He had known Franz since he was two years old.
It was the priest who had given him his first academic and religious lessons as he was grew up since the school was not yet ready and it was amazing that in adulthood Franz was to nurture so much antagonism towards the Church and religion. But he treated Fr Martin with due respect.
''... You're always going on like this with me, dear Franz, to inflate my ego, to extol me. Do you know that you're one of the few who mange to make me laugh with your subtle sense of humour? But do you know that you are one of many who make me cry too?''
''Oh come on, what are you thinking, Father? I am supposed to cry, not you. You are expected to provide me with solace, not the other way round.''
''Franz.. when will you stop worrying me? It would have been better for you to have remained that sweet little boy that you were. Your mother told me to pull your ear for the spiritual indifference you have been adopting. I need not tell you how worried she is about all this.''
''But what can I do? She's my mother, true enough... but she can't expect me to live her way. As for religion, you know my opinion.''
''Why don't you want to open your hear to the Lord but continue harbouring such bitterness for his representatives? Don't you know that those souls are my brothers in spirit? You give too much credit to what people say.
Above all... who is that priest of good will who'd go up the belfry to brag about his good deeds? Humility... it is humility, dear Franz, that makes you silence vanity.''
''Most probably you're right... but humility doesn't bring about changes. Humility doesn't dethrone tyrants.
I'll tell you this... in this world its better to have a just war than an unjust peace. It's true that humility is one of the most beautiful virtues... but don't forget, that when the need arose, even Christ abandoned it an chose the whip instead.
Let me ask you a question: What is best, to be a revolutionary in the name of love as Jesus was or obedient to religion as the Pharisees who betrayed him? Everyone thinks they are telling the truth.
''Buddhists insist that things would work out better if people were to embark on the noble road of Dharma. Christians say that if we trust in the Lord we'd have a better world. Rationalists insist that if the masses resort to reason many problems in this world would be solved.
The problem is, that not one of them tries to solve these conflicts himself. Well Fr Martin... the ways of the Lord are infinite, as you priests like to say. And it seems to be true... for there are some who become disciples of Christ by the grace of the holy water without dirtying their hands, and there are those who don't want to know anything about holy water, but would prefer to become disciples of Christ by baptism in their own blood.''
Chapter 6
On a Saturday afternoon, Fr Friedrich was hearing confession in his small village church. It was a stormy day. Few had ventured to leave home. Snow fell lightly, but constantly from a darkened sky.
The priest huddled cosily in a corner of the confessional reading a book. A light knock at on the small shutter brought him back to reality. A woman's voice asked to be confessed.
''Father... all my life I've always tried to lead a good life, doing my best to resist temptation. But lately, during the last few months
I've felt attracted to a man who changed my life. He doesn't know that I am attracted to him. I love him. But mine is a dream which can never be realized. It's an impossible story.''
''Why are you talking like this?'' asked the priest deceived by the muffled voice of the penitent. ''Maybe he loves someone else or is married, engaged or doesn't hail from the village?''
''Neither''
''Why then?''
''I know he fancies me but... not as I would like him to. What I know for sure is... that this person is hindered by a vow.'' Nadia' heart was thudding madly. She was surprised that he hadn't yet recognized her.
''And what sort of vow would that be, since no woman is involved?''
''Because... he happens to be a priest.''
Fr Friedrich froze. 'Nadia!...' Suddenly he knew who she was, even though her voice was different. The girl's words hit him as badly as an inquisitor's verdict.
''Father Friedr -''
''Shut up''
''No, I won't. I've been keeping this secret for a long time. I just couldn't go on like this. I love you and you know this perfectly well. I never stopped doing so.
I tried many a time to bury my secret but now this love cannot be contained any more in my heart. Tell me... tell me if I'm to blame in any way for this! How can someone decide whom to love?''
''What are you saying my child... what are you saying?''
''I'm asking for nothing.'' sobbed Nadia, anxious to discover what the young priest was feeling though she could easily hear his laboured breath.
I'm asking for nothing save a little compassion. I know that this is an impossible love as much as I know that my words are hurting you. But you must understand that I could no longer lie to myself... I was dying little by little. I don't want to sound irresponsible, but believe me, I have been debating what should be done for months.''
''Nadia, what are you saying?'' What sort of love is this?'' He had a lot to say to her for he felt the same way about her.
''It wasn't easy for me to show you that my heart beats only for you. Now that you know you must understand that it will be equally difficult for someone else to enter my life. I live for you and you must never encourage someone else to take your place hoping that I'll forget you. No man will be able to do this.
Don't let anybody you know dare to do so, only bitterness awaits him. I'm not saying this in spite or rancour, but to allow nobody to experience this same heartache of mine. I never wished for this... surely I'm not to blame.''
For a moment Nadia felt an unusual urge to say whatever she had to say but once she had given vent to her feelings she felt a strong sense of guilt, shame and disgust. Without waiting for absolution she suddenly got up and rushed out breathlessly.
Fr Friedrich seemed to be like a moribund giving his last spasms prior to the departure of his soul down to hell.
The bell chimes beat mercilessly on his heavy hanging head. Having understood everything he wanted to go and seek her out confessing to her that he too felt the same way about her. But fear forbade him from doing so.
A month passed. It was Christmas and Fr Friedrich knew very well that for once that event was to be a miserable one. The festivities brought him face to face with Nadia practically every day.
Since that confession they had scarcely exchanged a word unless in the company of others. Perplexed and pained, he sought again the refuge of his friend, Fr Martin.
''... But what's wrong with all that my pretty boy?'' joked Fr Martin to relieve the great stress the young priest was visibly showing. ''This sort of love between you and Nadia is exceptional, beautiful and pure... and I dare say, extraordinary.
Could it be that even Christ and Mary Magdalene had some sort of similar relationship? Don't you know that you can express love in a hundred ways? If I were you I wouldn't worry so much about such a pure thing brought about by the Almighty... ''
For Fr Friedrich the parish priest's words were like manna from heaven. What he did not know was that Fr Martin was taking the matter more seriously. The elder priest did not dare to ask him if he loved her, but presumed that he did.
To set his mind at ease he reminded him that Nadia was still very young and childish and what she was feeling was rather a passive infatuation which in time would die out.
During the following days, Fr Friedrich felt better and to ease his anxiety, Fr Martin set him a schedule that rarely permitted him time to meet Nadia.
''Klaus, I love someone else... '' This affirmation echoed interminably in Klaus' head. He was now tormented to the point of even envying the past that he had presumed could not be worse.
Knowing that Nadia did not care for him, he started to drink heavily at time blacking out; very often he would wake up in his bed, his mother on a chair nearby after some kind soul had helped him home.
When he imagined the girl in erotic abandon with the man who stole her from him he would feel engulfed in misery and spectral fear.
He became obsessed and often resorted to violence. His mother could do nothing, sick as she was, and she grew worse seeing her only son going from bad to worse.
Klaus could not admit at being rebuffed. Without friends there was nobody he could refer to. He felt the rejection and solitude gnawing inside him like a lethal microbe and became obsessed that people were laughing at him positive that Nadia had made everything known to one and all.
It had been ages since he had last set foot in church, almost since he was an altar-boy. Now he decided to go there and open up to someone who would understand him, preferably to the parish priest. Fr Martin was not there, but Fr Friedrich happened to be hearing confession. Klaus wanted to talk to him face to face.
When he saw him the priest looked stunned. He felt a sense of foreboding about why he was there. He had not seen him for years. Now that Klaus had reappeared before him from nowhere it was not difficult for him to conclude what the matter was apart from the fact that the hearsay had been rampant for some time.
Klaus went straight to the point. Every ''Nadia'' that he uttered was a piercing dagger in Friedrich's heart. Klaus looked desperate. The priest was no less so. The penitent raised his eyes to him. The confessor saw a pair of red-shot eyes staring into nothingness.
He felt tongue-tied when he recalled Nadia's ominous words.
Klaus went on complaining about the girl as if intoning a hymn that exalts the cult of Death. The sweat from the priest's brow trickled into his stole and on his trembling hand.
He took heart and prayed heaven that his words would be as sweet and compassionate as they could possibly be. Slowly he tried to comfort Klaus without revealing who the one who had possessed Nadia's heart was.
''No! Certainly not!'' declaimed Klaus miserably. ''Not this time! Only she can make me happy and I'm going to do everything to attain my goal. I've tired myself out always losing and capitulating and now I am going to do things my way and nobody is going to stop me.''
Klaus rushed out. Fr Friedrich stood petrified.
Chapter 7
Very often, Hans used to invite Otto home. Books were a common link between them.
''... Books look at nobody's face and I seem to be doing the same,'' said Hans jokingly. ''With people you cannot be too good because they soon get to your back. As I once admitted to the parish priest... in this world it seems that everyone is set on passing his misery on to others.''
''Indeed,'' replied Otto, ''you seem to have correctly assessed human nature since you have been living here. Well done... I must say that you've surprised even me.''
''I'm neither a pessimist nor a fatalist', but when I ponder this misery I cannot help but pity myself and others. I nurture a great love for human beings, but sometimes I have to live this love away from everybody to make sense to myself.''
''Oh, how decidedly dramatic!''
''No, I never meant to sound so... this was just a little parenthesis of mine during a conversation with between friends.''
''To a certain degree, Hans, what you declared is true. But wouldn't it be better for Man to enjoy the simple life without going into exorbitant worthless details?''
''You're right''
''Then why are we still discussing this concept? See what we've done in the meantime, our coffee's grown cold. The same happens to Man when he absorbs himself in details.''
''Well said Otto... but don't pin the blame on me, for if there's anyone who is keen on dialogue, it's you.''
''You're right, you know... ''
They took leave of each other.
While Otto was strolling out of the wood he beheld someone coming over. It was Klaus. He did know him personally although many a time he had tried to get nearer and strike up a friendship, but Klaus had always avoided him. Otto greeted him with respect but the other walked on as if there were nobody around.
As usual, Klaus was musing about Nadia. The more he thought about her the more he seethed with envy for the one who was enjoying her favours. He was becoming obsessed as to who the secret lover could ever be.
He could bring no worthy pretender to the mind. He thought it might be some city gallant but few strangers ever came to the village and so he brushed away this conjecture. 'Then who could he be? Dammit... '
When he arrived at a certain idyllic spot, with just a few furtive glances he ascertained that Nadia was there and he crept nearer from the side of a wall near the oak tree. There was a nun with her. He was so close that he could follow what was being said.
''... but why has this happened to me?'' the girl wailed.
''What I can do?'' answered Cecilia patiently. ''I've been telling you repeatedly... you have to look forward. These are circumstances we cannot change. In this case we must adapt to them not the other way round.''
''But I love him... I love him very much.''
''Stop moaning, Nadia. Don't let me chide you like a five-year-old girl. You have to grow up and face reality. You must understand that life's what it is. As I told you last time... leave things to time and you'll see how everything will fall into place.''
''I've always looked for this kind of love and now that I've found it's unattainable.''
''Nadia, are you listening to what I'm telling you?''
''I just can't get over it. Why amongst so many men did it have to be a priest? Why did it have to be Father Friedrich?... ''
Klaus felt himself chocking. 'How could it be?...' He was too shocked to rationalize. 'So it is, then... and fool that I am I sought to open my heart to him, blundering idiot! That's why he advised me to forget her. How could I know that all that admonishment was wisely calculated so that he could get to her without any hindrance. So it's Friedrich eh... what a priest you are! I will get you... I'll show you how to deride a miserable wretch. Some shame, leprous bastard. You'll pay for this... you'll pay dearly... and you too, bloody slut. Both of you will pay... and if I have to go to the deepest regions of hell I swear that both of you will go down with me... '
Chapter 8
Hans's consecration table was finally finished. The parish priest engaged a carter so that they could go and get it together. It happened to be the same man who had been engaged the last time but had failed to appear.
The first thing that he did was to apologize, explaining that that day, a few hours earlier had had to take his pregnant wife to hospital because of complications though later on no problem resulted. Hans told him all was forgotten, congratulating him on the coming baby.
They arrived at the church where the parish priest was waiting for them. In half-an-hour the table was installed. Fr Martin thanked them and invited Hans inside for a little chat. He apologized for the fact that he could not settle the last part of the fee at that time, having no cash in hand. The other told him not to worry.
''... Hmm, this tea is very good.''
''Usually, I brew it badly. I don't know why but when I prepare it for someone else it turns out better,'' said the priest.
''Maybe it's because you brew it with love?'' You can see then, can't you, my dear Father, even a cup of tea brewed with love turns out better. That's why when you prepare it for yourself the result is not so good, since for you anything goes. You're a good man Fr Martin.''
''You think so? Don't you know how many times I sin every day?''
''Yes, as children sin.''
''You compliment me too much. I think you have conceived a wrong idea about me... sometimes I'm prone to devilish bouts of rage.''
''Let the devil be. The only extant devil is the distorted mind of the human being... ''
When Hans went outside some ten steps away he came face to face with Franz. They hardly knew each other though Franz was attracted to him. They stood chatting for a moment than bade each other good day.
From there Franz went straight to his mother's house after a beer or two with some friends.
''... Son, I hope that now you'll quiet down, having learned your lesson and won't resort to some new trouble.''
''Oh come on... what are you thinking, mother?''
''It's not what I'm thinking... I know my thoughts but I would like to know yours. I hope that now you'll do away with your hard-headedness. Keep your father always in mind and what sacrifices we made to raise you up properly.''
''Is this respect, mother... is this what being properly raised and respected means, myself leading an extravagant life while the majority are experiencing pain and social injustice? With all due respect, mother... you don't know what's going on.
The world as you know is not all incense and candles. Well... wouldn't it be better if we changed the subject? Why don't you cook me something to eat, if you feel like it?''
While she was preparing his meal, Franz slumped into his favourite armchair smoking a cigarette, with his legs stretched onto the low wooden table, which was his preferred position, though he was always heedful of his mother's censure.
When he had eaten he informed her that he was going over to Otto's.
When he got to Otto's house, he knocked once, twice, but there was no answer. He knocked again. A neighbour informed him that on that day a man from outside the village paid Otto a visit and later on went to town with him. Franz thanked him. Than he began to wonder who that stranger could have been.
Chapter 9
Once Fr Friedrich's schedule was changed, more work fell on Fr Martin. Lately the parish priest had visited Franz at his mother's house; he also wanted to see how she was faring since she had become sick. That day Fr Martin had asked the young priest to drop by Hans' place to settle the bill for the consecration table. It was a beautiful Saturday morning.
Martin's assistant enjoyed a walk in the country as much as a snail on a rainy day. He took it easy, wanting to enjoy the scenery, and was in no hurry at all.
Half-way there he heard children's voices. They were playing with the sisters. Further on, with the beating heart of a bird trapped in a snare, he saw Nadia watching him. From there on his mind went blank...
Fr Friedrich woke up in the city hospital. His head was bandaged, having sustained two wounds: one to his forehead and another to the back of his head which both racked him with pain. He could not understand what had happened.
A likeable young doctor came over, examined him and asked him some questions. The doctor frowned. Otto, Martin and a few nuns were there. Alarmed and wanting more information, the parish priest asked him how he felt. The doctor turned to the nurse and gave her some instructions. Fr Martin asked again.
The doctor told him that Fr Friedrich condition was not alarming but due to the blow he had sustained he would probably suffer a serious memory loss. Fr Martin felt dejected, as did the others. Fr Friedrich stared at all of them, evidently with no sign of recognition. He looked saddened.
Some police officers approached. Rudi, the practitioner, stopped them in their tracks. The doctor informed them that his patient was still too weak to help in the investigation.
Friedrich made a great effort to recognize someone but it was useless. It had been two days since the accident. What happened in the woods was still a mystery to all, though it had led to the arrest of Hans.
From what he had told them the police deduced that he was the culprit. There was blood on his clothes. Another condemning factor was that the young priest was discovered near his lodge in the wood, unconscious, apart from the fact that Hans was seen rushing out of the wood.
During his interrogation he explained that some time before the incident he had been working in his fields when suddenly he had heard groans coming from the wood. He had rushed there to find, to his surprise, Fr Friedrich unconscious...
Fr Martin and Otto left the hospital in deep thought. The priest went straight to the orphanage. In one of the corridors he came upon an agitated Nadia.
''How is he? Has his conditioned improved? Tell me Father Martin!''
''Calm down my child... I'll tell you everything. In fact, I have news... some good, some rather... ''
''The good one. Tell me the good one at once.''
''Very well. So... at long last, he has regained consciousness. Now he's quite well.''
''Thank the Lord! You don't know how happy I am. And... what's the bad news?''
''Unfortunately... but, we'd better sit down. Listen my child, today I was informed that he seems to have taken a turn for the better.''
''What do you mean by seems? Is he better or not?''
''Yes, yes, he's quite well, but... after a general check-up and some questions, the doctor noticed that, unfortunately... he's probably lost his memory.''
''Oh Holy Virgin, no!''
''There's no need to alarm yourself... the doctor told us that his condition is probably not permanent. But on the other hand he stated that the recovery process could take a long time.
Well... at least he's much better, his condition has improved considerably, hasn't it? It think the biggest problem now is Hans' arrest. I cannot believe that he was behind all this.
How could he possibly harm Friedrich? I'm deeply saddened by this. Some time ago we were in my office chatting and joking. Now I don't know... this is too irrational; it doesn't make sense.''
''It was my fault.''
''What are you saying, Nadia? How could you be to blame?''
''That day Sister Katrin and I were with the children near the wood when I saw Fr Friedrich coming over. I thought he had came to talk to me or at least join us playing with the children. But when he saw us, well... when he saw that I was with them he turned and walked towards the wood. I'm sure that he did so to avoid me.
I was hurt... I was hurt and wanted to know why he had done so. I called him but he quickened his pace. Instinctively I felt like following him. When he saw me he rushed into the wood. I ran too but he was faster. From there I saw him going into the most rugged part of the wood and saw him no more.
A few minutes later one of the children came hollering that there was someone unconscious in the wood. Sister Katrin asked him what had happened and she went down to report the incident. I didn't know what to do, I was confused.
Some time later, don't ask me how long it was, I saw Hans dashing out of the wood to be apprehended by the police who arrested him immediately. As for the rest I can't make anything of it.
That's why I told you that all this has been my fault. I believe that Father Friedrich, running blindly as he was, somehow tripped, fell and hit his head ending up unconscious.''
''I see. Well... at this point I too have to admit to being to blame.''
''Why?''
''On that day, it was I, not Friedrich, that had to go up to Hans'. I asked him to go over to hand him a payment. If I had gone myself none of this would have happened. But now there's nothing we cand do, we cannot return the rain up to the clouds.
Now I feel sorry for Hans, the more so after what I've heard. Naturally, his innocence seems to make more sense. After all, he has always had a good relationship with Father Friedrich.''
''What can be done, then?''
''I'll go and speak to Hans. I think that if there's someone who at this moment needs support, it is him.''
Next day, after Mass, Fr Martin went to the police station where he found Hans in a cell sitting with a book in his hand. He did not seem too concerned about his predicament.
''Hans... I dropped by to see you. Don't tell me that this is a silly prelude, I just couldn't find a better way to open the conversation.''
''I can imagine.''
''Look, Hans... you now know me very well. Many a time I have confessed you, I have great faith in you and I reconfirm it all today. I won't take long... if you're up to it, I would like to know exactly what happened that day. Be sure that I'll believe whatever you'll tell me.''
''I'm not guilty. I said so to the police too.''
''I believe you. But what exactly happened?''
''I don't know... what happened to Friedrich is as obscure to me as it is to you. When I found him he was already sprawled on the ground.''
''What happened before you found him there?''
Hans related all that had happened to him up to the moment of his arrest.
''I know that this confession is incredible as the incident occurred... everything seems to point to my being the guilty one.''
''Since you say so, then we're going to do everything to get you out of here. I never doubted you and when I met Nadia I was convinced more than ever.''
''Why? What did she tell you?''
''I'm not going to keep you in the dark after all what you've been through these last few days especially now as things have evolved. It all started when Nadia and Father Friedrich struck up some sort of friendship and, seeing it growing deeper, Friedrich tried to avoid the girl.
That day he had come to seek you out to pay you... The rest, what happened afterwards, continues where you left off.''
''I see. But I'm going to tell you right away that your version won't easily be credited in court... everything shows that I was behind it all.''
''That's why truth... ''
''I doubt that. The point is that logic shows that everything happened the way I've been charged. Suffice to say that Friedrich was found near my lodge, he had money on him which could indicate a theft motive, I was soiled with blood and the fact that the police saw me rushing out to go and get help could easily be interpreted as a flight from the scene of the crime. We cannot overlook my past which surely won't be giving me a helping hand... ''
Chapter 10
When Friedrich regained consciousness, the doctors carried out some detailed examinations. It transpired that he was suffering from a number of symptoms due to two blows to the head. He had to remain in hospital longer than foreseen.
Ironically, it was Nadia who fared best since she then had the opportunity to tend to Friedrich for long hours on the pretext that he needed continuous attention. To the villagers the girl's attentive care was nothing but an act of charity.
Not a single day passed without her calling on him. In a way, she did the parish priest a favour for he was too busy to call on him daily.
To him, the situation was like a double-edged knife: on one hand he knew that the girl was helping the priest, but on the other hand he was conscious that in those circumstances, the intimacy between them could intensify.
He could not just forbid her to go, he had no right to do so, and secondly, were he to do so he was going to tarnish her name with the villagers. Faced with such a dilemma he resignedly hoped that everything would turn out for the better.
Fr Friedrich was pleased with Nadia's presence. With his suspended memory he felt as much as any lay-man as any other. It was not long before his attraction to the girl soared to its highest peaks.
When he arrived at the hospital, Fr Martin found Friedrich sharing a smile with Nadia. The patient looked happy. When she saw the parish priest, Nadia sobered up, exchanged a few words, then begged them to excuse her.
It was time for her to go back to the village. The elder priest was worried. The intimacy between Friedrich and Nadia was flagrantly evident to all his visitors now.
He did not want the situation to precipitate more than it already had. He started off talking about Nadia to set the argument going.
''... Oh, what can I say about Nadia, Father Martin, other than she's an earth-bound angel? I never hoped I'd be so lucky as to have such a beautiful girl to tend to my needs with so much solicitude.''
''Yes, yes... so it is, she's a very gifted girl,'' stammered Martin.
''But don't you think that she's taking too much interest in you?''
''What do you mean? I mean, what's wrong with that?''
''Friedrich... I'm going to talk to you as if you were my son... after all I always bore you a parental love. What I'm gonna to tell you is for your own good. You must draw a definite line as to the extent of this friendship.
I ask you to be prudent. I see that this intimacy has flourished too much and I don't think it will prove beneficial when one day you resume your priestly duties.''
''But what are we doing that's wrong? Why should I feel guilty that I am happy? Don't you know that this is an act of charity?
''In fact, it is this sort of charity that is worrying me... It's not what it's supposed to be. I think you know more than I do what I mean.''
''What sense is there in what you're saying? Don't you consider it a blessing that Nadia is helping me out of this mental labyrinth?''
''Listen carefully... you know perfectly well what I mean as much as you know that what you're trying to tell me is simply a defensive argument. If I were you I'd be much careful... you know, someone who capitulates to passions ends up finally being their slave.
I'm sorry for taking the inquisitor's role, but I beg you, don't complicate things further. Try to understand what I'm saying... for a moment, stop thinking you're a layman and reflect as a priest.''
''But how can I believe as such when I don't even know what being a priest entails? If there's someone who at present needs help it isn't the priest from the lost past, but the poor wretch of the present.''
''I understand... and I cannot fail but sympathize with you. But you vowed before God that first and foremost you were to live for him... you're bound by holy orders. Presently you're still confused and so you have to rely on those who wish you well, at least until you can decide for yourself.''
''But what do you want me to decide? And what sort of love is this that I must render to God if I don't even know who He is? I mean... I don't know. But... who can interfere if He happened to change this priestly love into one between a man and a woman? Who can say that what has occurred wasn't also a part of his plan? If love is reciprocal, nothing an no one is going to stop it, not even religion.''
''Listen to me, Friedrich... you know that Nadia isn't in position to fathom the depth of this problem. To please ourselves we mustn't avail ourselves of such situations.
True enough, memory loss makes it natural for an individual to identify himself with the first enjoyable stimulus to establish his identity, but this doesn't mean that he is of that particular world.''
''I'm seeking no particular world. All I want is love and compassion, nothing else. But is it possible that you don't realize that the sole link that binds me to the past is her? It is this girl who is giving me hints as to who I was prior to the accident, besides helping me to live the present with dignity and to look with optimism to the future.''
''Friedrich, why are you so afraid? You know that the chances of recovery are great. The doctor said so. But if you have to use this pretext to justify your romantic story, well that's another matter.''
''In my present condition I cannot invest in what I've been, but in what I can become. Whatever I had in the past is lost... I've lost everything. What must I do then: ignore the only source that is making me feel human? Why don't we admit that things are no longer the same? How do you expect me to change when I have already changed? Only love doesn't change and I'll prove it to you.
You remember when you brought me some personal documents to help me regain some of my past? Well, what I found really impressed me particularly what I had written about Nadia prior the incident.
Reading those lines I felt like re-discovering myself as if I had awoken from a limbo of darkness. Of course, I never told her anything but I did this for the sake of prudence not because I no longer believed in what I have written. Now, if you'd like to read them, it's up to you.''
Fr Martin took out the diary, unfolded a sheet of paper and started to read. What he read was romantic, erotic and scandalous. He had known that his assistant was attracted to the nineteen-year-old girl but never imagined he was so besotted with her.
''Do you understand now what Nadia means to me? I fancy you ask why I'm saying all this now, bedridden in a hospital. I'm not sure... maybe because I've lost all sense of fear that memory carries with it? Father Martin, I know that God is love and so I ask, who are we to modify this love that the Lord demands of us? Don't you know that where there's love there's also change ready to accommodate it?''
''Yes. But let me tell you also, my dear Friedrich... that if you truly loved the priesthood, there's also change ready to re-accommodate it as well... ''
Memories of Recurrent Echoes by Anton Sammut — Available on Amazon
Notable Quotes from the Historical Novel Memories of Recurrent Echoes and Other Books by Anton Sammut (2026)
