Armin E-Book

Joanna Pettersson

• Herausgeber: Europa Edizioni
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Amid Armin's pages, from the first to the last one, there is a lingering sense of cooperation, where people's traditions and stories seem to share a universal experience. The magic that permeates the work of Pettersson, who is already accustomed to transferring to paper the notions learned during her academic studies (and whose story represents the sequel of 2022’s highly appreciated Alter), is not only visible in the clear references to local beliefs, the languages of the peoples, and the rituals that also do not spare taboos, but flows in the words, chosen with poetic precision, in the gestures, sometimes unexpected, and in the thoughts, simple and yet full of meaning, of its characters, who in the bond of friendship eventually find the fraternal strength of collaboration towards a common goal, with all the conflicts, disagreements and misunderstandings that make even what is not so verisimilarly human. In this tale with a universal scope, the stories eventually intertwine in a web of correspondences intended to enhance the sense of roots and community. The story of Armin, shattered in the soul by bereavement and yet resilient in the face of adversity, expectations, as well as responsibility and moral sense, is not so different from that of his fellow travellers in the unsettling world somewhere between dream and reality created by the author, who nonetheless addresses issues relevant to the modern world, such as research ethics, genetic experiments and the creation of artificial life. Above all, Armin's story is not so different from those who strenuously lead a difficult existence in the name of truth and with respect for life.
Pettersson's work invites just that: finding the courage to exist. No matter what.

Joanna Pettersson (pen name) comes originally from Poland, but she has lived in Scandinavia for many years. Currently, she teaches Linguistics and Translation Theory at a Norwegian university. 
In her free time, she writes fiction. She published three novels and several short story collections in Polish. Her novel from 2020, Alter, appeared translated into English in 2022, 
published by Europe Books. 
Her literary work was described as magical realism and psychological fantasy. She finds inspiration in the Medieval history of Europe, Nordic and Slavic myths, and Scandinavian ballads.

Leseprobe

Joanna Pettersson

Armin

© 2023Europe Books| London

www.europebooks.co.uk | [email protected]

ISBN XXX-XX-XXX-XXX-X

First edition: XXXX 2023

Printed for Italy by Rotomail Italia

Finito di stampare

presso Rotomail Italia S.p.A. - Vignate (MI)

Armin

Translated from Polish by

Susan Erdmann and the author

Chapter one

A myth

My father was a myth. He was a hero, almost a demigod, and protagonist of numerous troubadour songs. Sometimes, I wondered how it was possible that he had committed such a commonplace act as begetting a son with an ordinary earthly woman.

I was five when he died, but I didn’t remember him at all. Perhaps some memories would have surfaced if I had not been persecuted at every step with stories about Prince Malager, who was called the Just or the Magnificent. If on the anniversaries of his birthday, flowers were not placed in front of the marble statue in the castle courtyard, a procedure accompanied by combat marches. And if Uncle Stellan had not decided to complete the procession of Kharidian rulers on the fresco in the throne hall with the image of Malager the Just.

“My father was not a Prince of Kharida,” I remarked as I studied the picture appearing on the wall. “I think, Uncle, that you should paint your self-portrait there.”

Uncle Stellan turned towards me and rubbed the brush on his cloak that was stained with all the colours of the rainbow.

“I prefer that my heir paints my portrait,” he said and patted Lothar on the shoulder. Then he stared into my eyes.

“Your father was Prince of Sangoria by birth, but he had held Kharida’s regency before I came of age. He deserves a place among the images of my country’s rulers: a place of honour,” he replied firmly. “It is almost unbelievable that a blind man could manage the two largest countries on the continent and do it so efficiently.”

I had heard this last statement from so many people, in so many variations, that it was hard not to look a bit bored.

“Armin, your father’s place among the rulers of Kharida is undisputed. I need to talk to you about something else,” my uncle said sternly. “Without you.” He raised his hand towards Lothar. “Follow me to my study, Armin. You, my son, shall in the meantime finish off the blindfold on Prince Malager’s face. May all gods protect you if you mute this shade of gray!”

***

“What’s up?” asked Lothar when I came back.

“They plan to get me a stepfather,” I answered glumly.

Lothar must have guessed what Uncle Stellan told me: that my mother was too young to stay widowed; she has mourned much longer than the law requires. After nine years, she should get married, especially as there was an opportunity for a profitable alliance.

“That guy from Auguria?” Lothar broke the silence.

I nodded.

“We could get rid of him,” my cousin suggested.

I shrugged.

“Eh... you’re right.” Lothar agreed with what I did not say aloud. “Your mother accepts the proposal, and my father supports it; thus, there is not much we can do. If Aunt Sanna doesn’t marry that Augurian fellow, another one will come and get her, even if we played the meanest pranks.”

We used to influence the politics of our countries, Kharida and Sangoria, by slackening saddle girths on the horses of certain ambassadors or by luring envoys we didn’t like into marshes during hunting parties. We carefully chose swamps that were not deep enough to drown in, but sufficient to scare foreigners not acquainted with our woods, and to make them scream for help. Most of the unsympathetic diplomats left for their home countries shortly after such disgrace. Our fun was sometimes a bit spoiled by Chancellor Aulus’s meaningful gaze. However, from time to time we read a kind of approval in his eyes.

Lothar’s thoughts were apparently wandering in the same direction as mine. He asked:

“What does Lord Aulus think about this?”

“It was his idea,” I replied grimly. 

“Everything indicates that soon, we are going to Sangitoria,” Lothar concluded. “Courting a duchess dowager must take place in her capital. We’ll figure something out, Armin,” he added in a rather unconvincing tone.

***

Lothar usually shared my feelings, but during the trip to Sangitoria I had the impression that this time, he didn’t. He chatted about the Sangitorian stables, pondered how many foals had been born since our last visit, and whether there would be any moose in the woods east of the city. He seemed to have forgotten my mother’s marital plans. This matter bothered me more and more, as we approached the capital.

For this reason, after the first supper in the Sangitorian castle, I slipped out for a lonely stroll.

If my mother marries, children will probably be born, I thought. They will be much younger than me, but eventually they will grow up. The Augurian Prince will wish to secure the throne of Sangoria to his offspring. Everyone knows what troubles stepsiblings can cause. My granduncle, Vice-Duke Stellan Senior, was killed by his half-brother, Thorleif, and the other half-brother, Haldor, conspired against Kharida’s most famous ruler, Stauron the Great.

I looked around and found that my feet, without consulting my mind, had carried me to the ruins of the old castle.

The rubble was overgrown with grass and thorny bushes. Fragments of shattered pillars could be seen among the thorns. From the top of one of the columns, a mockingly twisted face stared at me. It belonged to some mythical creature, probably a faun.

Walking among the ruins of the old castle was strictly forbidden.  Allegedly, my father had decided so in his last words, but I did not believe it. The whole story of Prince Malager’s farewell to his subjects was improbable. I supposed that it must have arisen in Lord Aulus’s imagination.

Chancellor Aulus was quite a peculiar person: he was completely sober in his mind while performing his state duties, but after working hours he let his fantasy run wild and could tell you totally incredible things. I liked to listen to his stories, but common sense told me that daydreams should be kept apart from reality, and this was clearly an issue for our kind Lord Chancellor.

The story of my father’s death, although it sounded like a legend and was probably lavishly coloured by Lord Aulus, held a core of truth. Malager the Just died during an earthquake. He was crushed by the old castle’s ceiling when it was falling into ruins. Thus, I was standing at my father’s grave. His body was buried somewhere deep under the stones.

Even if my father really had forbidden approaching the castle hill, this ban could not apply to me. A new ruler makes new laws! Although I was still in care of my guardian, Uncle Stellan, I was the Prince of Sangoria. Nobody could forbid me from visiting my father’s tomb!

I climbed up the ruins. On the way, I slapped the cheekily smiling faun on his ugly nose. I sat down on what appeared to be remains of a stone portico. There were weathered rests of ornaments on it: bas-reliefs of leopards. And suddenly...

I saw a tall figure leaning slightly while passing under the door frame adorned with stone leopards. How immensely big this man was! I was very small, but I wasn’t afraid of the giant. He could not see me – he wore a blindfold – but somehow, I knew that he had noticed my presence. He was smiling so kindly! That was my real father, not a statue, a fresco, or a myth!

“Armin!” I heard, but my name was not called by my father’s voice. 

The vision faded.

Lothar stood at the foot of the hill, waving his arms.

He was looking for me! In an instant I forgave him everything that had irritated me during our journey from Kharida.

“I, Armin, the Prince of Sangoria, invite the Kharidian throne heir to step up onto the tomb of my ancestors,” I said solemnly. “If the curse from years ago does not frighten thee, noble Lothar, then accept my invitation and enter the mound of Malager the Magnificent!”

My cousin started climbing the hill without hesitation. I noticed that on the way, he slapped the ear of the stone faun. I felt warmth around my heart.

“I’m not sure if this is really your father’s tomb,” Lothar said as he reached the top of the hill. He looked at the stone I was sitting on.

“I remember that door,” he added. “In the chamber behind it, your father used to dictate letters to Lord Aulus. There was a large tapestry with hunters and falcons on the wall opposite his desk.” 

Yes, Lothar was right. I closed my eyes and saw the smiling blind giant again. Next to him stood the Lord Chancellor who, surprisingly enough, had quite a lot of wavy auburn hair on his head. My father took a step towards me, and I threw myself into his arms. Suddenly I was high in the air, close to the ceiling. I saw a small bald spot on the top of Lord Aulus’s head and burst out laughing.

“You remember too,” Lothar stated.

I came back to reality and nodded.

“I was thinking...” My cousin continued. “I was really thinking a lot about that Augurian fellow while we were travelling, even though I talked rubbish. You see, perhaps we will manage to get rid of him. There is no evidence that your father is dead.”

His words took my breath away.

Lothar sat down beside me.

“No one witnessed Prince Malager’s death, no one saw his body, there was no funeral, there is no grave,” he stated. “There are only stories.”

I shuddered. What Lothar had said appealed to my innermost dreams.

“But so many people say my father’s ghost appeared in the temple.” I referred to the legend in which I didn’t quite believe. I hoped Lothar would counter my doubts with strong arguments.

“How do you know it was a ghost?” My cousin asked rhetorically.

***

We put together an action plan. We decided to question some elderly servants and soldiers, and even some craftsmen and peasants, about the events that took place nine years ago in the Sangitorian temple of Asanda, the Goddess of Earth and Life. We agreed to make notes after every interview.

***

Three days later, in the evening, we went back to the castle ruins. Nobody could eavesdrop on us there.

We compared the results of our research.

All our interlocutors, regardless of age, gender, profession, and education, told us almost the same story as Lord Aulus did. 

On that memorable night nine years ago, when the inhabitants of the capital were gathered in the temple, prayers were suddenly interrupted by a bloodcurdling rumble, as if a lightning had struck nearby.

Through the screams of terror, a resonant, determined voice echoed – a voice that everybody knew very well. The words reached the most distant corners of the temple courtyard:

“Do not be afraid, my people! After the service, go quietly home, Sangorians! There is no danger. The princely castle fell down, but this was the will of the gods. The castle was built on bad foundations. I repeat: You are in no danger! You are safe!”

“A miracle! A miracle! Our Prince has got his eyes back!” A murmur spread through the crowd.

Malager stood on a dais in front of the sacrificial table, dressed in the most impressive of his gala black and scarlet robes. His face was not covered by the gray blindfold that everyone had been used to see for so many years. The Prince’s eyes shone as silver moons, but there were no silver threads in his black hair.

He held up one hand to silence the growing murmurs and shouts of amazement.

“I must leave you, my dear people,” he said. “Until my son comes of age, Prince Stellan Kharian will act as his guardian and the regent of Sangoria. In his absence Lord Chancellor Aulus will watch over you. I leave you in good hands. Don’t try to rebuild the castle. I repeat, it stood on bad foundations! Let the ruins overgrow with grass and do not approach them. Prince Stellan will build a new castle in Sangitoria, a more beautiful one. This edifice will stand on safe ground. Farewell, my people! It’s time for me!”

***

The accounts of our interlocutors were consistent up to the words “It’s time for me”. As for the later events, stories diverged. Some people claimed that Prince Malager had simply disappeared in front of everyone. Others said that he had made his way towards the temple gate through the spreading crowd. There were other discrepancies concerning the details: according to some of our interlocutors, Malager walked alone; other elderly men claimed that the Prince was flanked by two slender youths, one wearing blue, the other – silvery robes. Both young knights were surrounded by moonlight. A few witnesses (probably those gifted with vivid imagination) added that after these three personages had left the temple yard, three luminous clouds shaped as winged horses appeared in the sky. They were mounted by equally radiant knights. The horses and their riders were lifted by the wind and flew towards the moons.

***

“We’ve talked to more than thirty people.” Lothar began to summarize the results of our investigations. “It’s improbable that a swineherd, an innkeeper, an old cook, and several servants of various ranges could invent exactly the same story as the Chancellor and the Guard Commander. They all really saw your father in the temple and listened to his farewell speech. It became so imprinted in their minds that they repeated it in almost identical words.”

“They saw a ghost,” I said. “It must have been a phantom, because everyone claimed that my father had regained his sight. Ghosts can’t be invalids, can they?”

“Why a ghost?” Lothar shook his head. “The fact that Prince Malager had gotten back his sight is strange indeed, but not more peculiar than the miracles that Stauron the Great is said to have performed. Stauron could stop arrows and spears in the air, and inflict plague on his enemies... He was no doubt very learned and knew ancient methods of influencing reality. Maybe he cured his friend’s eyes? It didn’t have to be magic. He might have known certain treatments forgotten by modern medicine.”

“But Stauron was dead back then! He died many years before we were born!” I objected, again hoping Lothar would convince me of the opposite.

“Did he?” Lothar did not disappoint me. “Who, apart from your father, witnessed his death?”

“Yeah... Nobody but – supposedly – my father saw his dead body, there is no grave, there was no funeral…” I repeated parts of my cousin’s earlier statement.

“Colonel Samos of Galdear swore to all Gods that he saw Stauron that night,” my cousin continued. “He said that your father was accompanied by Stauron the Great and someone who looked like the Kharidian Prince. That must have been my grandfather, Stellan Senior, Stauron’s twin.”

“Samos is one of the few Sangorians who knew Prince Stauron personally,” I remarked. “And the Colonel has no tendency to fantasize.”

My heart was beating faster and faster. I was bursting with joy.

“The discrepancies in the endings of the stories can be explained,” I added after a while.

“Sure!” Lothar smiled triumphantly. “Think, Armin: it’s the middle of the night, people have been called to the temple, although no holiday is due. Suddenly the earth shakes, thunders roar, the previously blind Prince appears with perfectly sound eyes in his face… Who in such a situation could be sure how Malager left the temple, whether he went away alone or accompanied by somebody, on horseback or on foot? People must have crowded, screamed, almost fainted with fear and amazement... I believe in Samos’s story. The Colonel is good at keeping his head calm even in most tricky circumstances.”

“At dawn, everyone saw that the castle had collapsed.” Absentmindedly, I stroked one of the stone leopards. “And the Prince disappeared without a trace...”

“Thus, people invented different explanations of what had happened.” Lothar also stared at the ornaments on the battered doorframe. “I suppose there were no ghosts nor winged horses.”

“Do you think...” I struggled to pronounce the words that expressed my greatest hope. “Do you think my father is alive?”

“I don’t know.” Lothar looked straight into my eyes. “A lot of things could have happened in the course of nine years. But I’m sure that he was alive that night in the temple. Both he and the Kharian brothers. Stauron and Stellan must have had some very compelling reasons for faking their deaths, and your father joined his friends.”

Now, I was no longer holding back my imagination. My father hadn’t been killed by the earthquake, I thought frantically. He and the Kharidian Princes had been fighting some very dangerous enemy... Many of the stories we had heard mentioned demons, but in the reality, there might have been some strong army stationed somewhere in the caves beneath the Onyx Mountains. This gloomy rock massif hid many secrets, so there might even have been four-armed giants in these troops. All Sangorians of the older generation talked about the four-armed. My father had found out that the enemies were approaching the capital...

Here, both my imagination and logic failed me. If my considerations had anything to do with the truth, then Sangoria should have been occupied by hostile forces for the last nine years. Three men, that is Malager, Stauron and Stellan – even if they were extremely wise, strong, and skilled – could not stop a mighty army, capable of destroying the largest fortress on the continent.

“But somehow they stopped the enemies,” Lothar said. He used to hear my thoughts so often that I wasn’t surprised by his words.

“Armin, you have a more vivid imagination than I have,” my cousin added. “Put it in motion, and I will try to check if your visions are consistent with rational thinking.”

I closed my eyes and ran my hand over the stone leopards.

I saw my father again. He turned away from me and walked back into his study. He had to bow, since he was so tall... He disappeared from my sight. I heard a slight creak, as if someone were closing a door.

Despite all effort, I couldn’t see anything more. Darkness surrounded me. There was something hiding in the black mist, something horrible, but I knew I could overcome it. I would win if I cut off the demon’s way. If I made the castle fall into ruins.

I heard a deafening roar.

I blinked and came back to the real world.

“Did you see anything?” Lothar sounded impatient.

“I did, but it was strange and unclear.” I replied. “My father... I believe that he had destroyed the castle himself!  He made it collapse and did something with the ruins, something that could hold back the enemy. That’s what I felt, but it does not make any sense!”

“Hmmm…” Lothar shook his head. “What you say sounds peculiar, but it makes sense in a way.”

My clever cousin was able to assign logical explanations to many seemingly inexplicable issues, but how was he going to deal with my mysterious vision?

“What we believe we know about ancient history,” Lothar began, “is based mainly on legends and fragments of old holy scriptures, since there are no other sources. Further, what is considered scientific knowledge depends on who holds the chair at the university. The professor’s interpretation is believed to be true until some other scientist gains a better reputation. And as for how university chairs are obtained…”

“Don’t lecture me about obvious things,” I interrupted. “Skip the introduction and get to the point, please.”

“The point is,” Lothar continued, not upset by my remark at all, “that some ancient parchments found in the quarries near Landershavn mention a substance which explodes on contact with fire. Not the kind of cannon powder we are acquainted with, but something much, much more dangerous…”

Something started to dawn in my mind.

“The founder of your dynasty, Malager the First, allegedly used this stuff almost a thousand years ago during the Coastal War.” Lothar continued. “Because of this, the sand spit on which the Kharidian army camped collapsed into the sea.”

“Professor Werion claims that it was an underwater volcano eruption, but superstitious people believe that Malager the First possessed magical powers,” Lothar went on. “But that explosive substance might exist, and your father might have known how to produce it.”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“Usually, I am responsible for visions, and you for logical thinking,” I said. “Have our roles changed?”

“No, they haven’t.” Lothar looked very stern. “My version of events explains how the enemy was stopped and why Prince Malager forbade approaching the castle ruins.” 

He paused.

“Armin!” He suddenly shouted out. “We may be sitting on a depot of explosives! There is probably so much of this special substance in these ruins that a tiny spark of fire could cause a new earthquake. That’s why the enemies withdrew from Sangitoria. They were afraid that they would all be blown up into the air along with the castle!”

Now there was a full balance between imagination and logic in my mind.

“That sounds convincing,” I agreed. “You think that my father did not die in the ruins? That he had managed to walk away to a safe distance, then had somehow set fire to the explosive stuff...”

“He must have used a long rope, like Malager the First did,” Lothar said. “And later he went to Asanda’s temple, safe and sound, and averted the general panic that might have followed the disaster.”

“But why did he disappear? What has become of him?”

“That’s the problem. I believe we’ll find a clue. We can’t give up.”

“These enemies… It was a very strange thing with them…” I said after some consideration. “Nobody saw them. It is impossible not to notice approaching troops... unless you believe Chancellor Aulus.”

“He insists that an army of underground demons was on its way against Sangitoria. You can forget about demons, but it’s fully possible that, under the castle, there was a system of underground passages, and that some spy revealed to the enemy how to reach the capital through them.”

“If we found out how to get into the old dungeons, maybe we would understand more,” I pondered.

“It would be quite a dangerous venture...” Lothar smiled cunningly. “That’s why we must try it. There is no other option!”

“But before we do it, we must talk a little more to Lord Aulus, very diplomatically of course,” I concluded, and we set off back to implement our new plan.

***

It was easy to make the Chancellor talk about the old castle. He loved recollecting the years when Sangoria and most of the continent were ruled by my father.