of this?!” “I must say I’d be pretty surprised if you weren’t shitting yourself,” Irimiás replied, annoyed.‘Would you like some paper to wipe yourself with?” Petrina shook his head. “It’s no joke. I’d be lying if I told you my sides were splitting with laughter. .” “In that case shut your mouth.” Irimiás gazed haughtily down the road fading in the distance up ahead. He stuck a cigarette in the corner of his mouth and lit it without breaking step. “If I were to tell you that this was precisely the opportunity we had been waiting for,” he confidently declared, looking deep into Petrina’s eyes, “would that reassure you?” His companion flinched a little under his gaze then bent his head, stopped and thought a little, and by the time he had caught up with Irimiás again he was so nervous he could hardly get the words out. “Wha. . wha. . what are you thinking?” Irimiás made no reply but continued gazing mysteriously down the road. Petrina was so tortured by anxieties that he tried to seek some explanation for the profoundly meaningful silence and so — despite knowing the effort to be vain — tried to delay the inevitable disaster. “Listen to me! I have stood by you all this time, through good times and bad times. I swear, if I do nothing else with my miserable life, that I will flatten anyone who dares to be disrespectful to you! But. . don’t do anything crazy! Listen to me just this once! Listen to good old Petrina! Let’s forget it, forget it now, immediately! Let’s hop on the first train and get out! These people will lynch us the moment they discover the dirty trick we’ve pulled on them!” “No chance,” Irimiás mocked him. “We are taking up the demanding, indeed hopeless, cause of human dignity. . ” He raised his famous forefinger and warned Petrina, “Listen, jackass! This is our moment!” “God help us then,” groaned Petrina, seeing his worst nightmares realized. “I’ve always known it! I trusted. . I believed. . I hoped. . and here we are! This is how it ends!” “You must be joking!” the “kid” behind them butted in: “Can’t you take things seriously for once?” “Me?!” squealed Petrina, “me, I’m happy as a pig in shit, you can practically see me drooling. . ” Grinding his teeth he looked up to the heavens and shook his head in despair. “Be honest with me! What have I done to deserve this? Have I ever hurt anyone? Have I spoken out of turn? I beg you boss, have some regard, if for nothing else, for these old bones! Take pity on these gray hairs!” But Irimiás was not to be swayed: his partner’s words went in one ear and out of the other. He just smiled mysteriously and said, “The network, jackass. . ” Hearing the word, Petrina immediately perked up. “Do you understand now?” They stopped and faced each other, Irimiás slightly leaning forward. “It’s the network, that enormous spiderweb, as woven and patented by me, Irimiás. . Am I getting this through your thick head? Has a light come on there? Anywhere?” Life began to seep back into Petrina, first as the faint shadow of a smile flickering across his face, then as a distinct sparkle in his beady eyes, his ears reddening with excitement until his whole being was visibly moved. “Somewhere. . wait. . Something rings a bell. . I think I’m getting it now. .” he whispered hoarsely. “It would be fantastic if. . how shall I put it. .” “You see,” Irimiás gave a cool nod. “Think first, whine later.” The “kid” was following at a respectful distance behind them but his keen ears helped him pick up their conversation: he hadn’t missed a word and because he had not the slightest idea of what they were talking about he quickly repeated it all to himself so he shouldn’t forget it. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it and, like Irimiás, slowly and deliberately pursed his lips and blew out the smoke in a faint straight line. He did not try to catch up but followed, as he had done, some eight or ten steps behind because he felt ever more hurt that his master had not chosen to “let him into the secret’, though he should have known that he — unlike the constantly complaining Petrina — would have given his soul to be part of the plan: he had, after all, promised to be unconditionally faithful to the end. The tortures of jealousy seemed infinite, the bitterness in his soul growing ever more bitter since he was obliged to see that Irimiás thought him unworthy of a single remark, not one! His master ignored him altogether, as if “he simply wasn’t there’, as if the idea, “Sándor Horgos, who is not after all a nobody, has offered his services” meant absolutely nothing to him. . He was so upset he accidentally scratched an ugly acne spot on his face and once they reached the fork at Póstelel he could bear it no longer but rushed to catch up with them, looked Irimiás in the eyes and, trembling with fury, cried: “I’m not going on with you like this!” Irimiás regarded him with incomprehension. “What was that?” “If you have any problems with me tell now, please! Tell me you don’t trust me and I’ll get lost right now!” “What’s up with you?” Petrina snapped. “Nothing in the world is wrong with me! Just tell me whether you want me with you or no! You haven’t said a single word to me ever since we set out, it was always just Petrina, Petrina, Petrina! If you’re so fond of him, why invite me along?!” “Now hold on a second,” Irimiás calmly stopped him. “I think I understand now. Listen hard to what I tell you because there won’t be time for this later. . I invited you because I need a capable young man like you. But only if you can do the following: One, you only speak when I address you. Two, if I entrust you with anything you’ll do your best to get it done. Three, get used to the idea of not giving me lip. For the time being it is up to me to decide what I tell you and what I don’t. Is that clear?. .” The “kid” lowered his eyes in embarrassment. “Yes, I just. .” “No “I just”. Act like a man. In any case, I know what you’re capable of, my boy and I don’t think you’ll let me down. . But enough now. Let’s get going!” Petrina gave the “kid” a friendly slap on the back but then forgot to remove his hand and propelled him along. “See here, you little piece of shit, when I was your age, I didn’t dare open my mouth when there were adults present! I fell silent, silent as the grave, if an adult was anywhere near! Because in those days there was no back talk. Not like today! What would you know about. .” He suddenly stopped. “What was that?” “What was what?” “That. . that noise. .” “I don’t hear anything,” the “kid” said, puzzled. “What you mean you don’t hear anything! Not even now?” They listened, holding their breath: a few steps ahead of them Irimiás stood stock-still too, listening. They were at the Póstelek fork, the rain gently pattering, not a soul to be seen anywhere, only a few crows circling in the distance. It seemed to Petrina that the noise was coming from somewhere above him, and he silently pointed to the sky but Irimiás shook his head. “From there, rather. .” he pointed towards the town. “A car?. .” “Maybe,” his master answered, clearly troubled. They did not move. The humming neither strengthened nor weakened. “Some kind of plane, perhaps. .,” the “kid” tentatively suggested. “No, not likely. .,” said Irimiás. “But in any case we’ll take the shorter route. We’ll go down the Póstelek road as far as Wenkheim Manor, then we’ll take the older road. We may even gain for or five hours that way. .” “Have you any idea how muddy that road is?!” Petrina protested in fury. “I know. But I don’t like this sound. It would be better for us to choose the other road. There were are sure not to meet anyone.” “Meet who?” “What do I know? Let’s get going.” They left the metalled road, and set off toward Póstelek. Petrina was continually looking back over his shoulder, nervously scanning the landscape, but didn’t see anything. By now he could have sworn that the noise was coming from somewhere above them. “But it’s not a plane. . It’s more like a church organ. . ah, that’s crazy!” He stopped, went down on hands and knees and put an ear to the ground. “No. Definitely not. It’s crazy!” The low hum continued, no nearer, no further away. However he searched his memory the humming wasn’t like anything he had ever heard before. It wasn’t the roar of a car or a plane or of distant thunder. . He had a bad feeling about it. He swiveled his head left and right, sensing danger in every bush, in every scraggy tree, even in the narrow wayside ditch covered in frogspawn. The most terrifying thing was that he couldn’t even decide whether the menace, whatever it was, was close at hand or at a distance. He turned a suspicious eye on the “kid.” “Look here! Have you eaten today? It’s not your stomach rumbling?” “Don’t be an idiot, Petrina,” Irimiás remarked over his shoulder. “And get a move on!”. . They were some quarter of a mile from the fork now, when they noticed something else beside the worryingly continuous humming. It was Petrina who first became aware of it: incapable even of saying a word, it was only through his eyes he could register the shock. His dull eyes started from their sockets, gazing at the sky, indicating the source. To the right of them above the marshy lifeless ground, a white transparent veil was billowing in a particularly dignified fashion. They hardly had the time to take it in before they were startled to see the veil vanish as soon as it touched the ground. “Pinch me!” groaned Petrina shaking his head in disbelief. The “kid” stood there open mouthed with wonder, then, seeing that neither Irimiás nor Petrina were incapable of speech, firmly remarked. “What’s up? Never seen fog before?” “You call this fog?!” Petrina snapped nervously back. “Jackass! I swear it was a kind of. . a wedding veil. . Boss, I have a bad feeling about this. .” Irimiás was staring puzzled at the place the veil had disappeared. “It’s a joke. Pull yourself together Petrina and say something sensible.” “Over there!” cried “the kid. And not far from the last sighting of the veil, there was a new veil slowly drifting in the air. They stared mesmerized as it too touched down and then, as if it really were fog, disappeared. . “Let’s get out of here, boss!” Petrina urged, his voice shaking. “The way I see it, it’ll be raining frogs next. .” “I’m sure there’s a rational explanation for this,” Irimiás firmly declared. “I just wish I knew what the devil it was!. . We can’t all three have gone mad at once!” “If only Mrs. Halics was here,” remarked the “kid” grimacing. “She’d soon tell us!” Irimiás suddenly raised his head. “What’s that?” Suddenly it was quiet. The “kid” closed his eyes in confusion. “I’m just saying. .” “Do you know something?!” Petrina demanded in fright. “Me?’, grimaced the “kid.” “Course I don’t. I was just saying it as a joke. .” They walked on in silence and it occurred, not only to Petrina but to Irimiás too, that it might be wiser for them to turn back immediately, but neither of them was up to making the decision if only because they couldn’t be sure that retracing their steps would be any less dangerous. They started to hurry and this time not even Petrina complained, quite the opposite in fact: if it was up to him they’d have broken into a run, and so, when they saw the ruins of Weinkheim ahead and Irimiás suggested a brief rest (‘My legs have completely gone to sleep. . We’ll build a fire, eat something, dry out, then go on. . ’) Petrina cried out in despair, “No, I couldn’t bear it! You don’t imagine I want to stay in this place a moment longer than I need to? After what’s just happened?” “No need to panic,” Irimiás reassured him. “We’re exhausted. We have hardly slept in two days. We need a rest. We have a long way to go.” “OK, but you go ahead!” Petrina demanded, and gathering up what courage he had left followed some ten paces behind the other two, his heart in his mouth, not even prepared to respond to the teasing of the “kid” who, seeing Irimiás calm, relaxed a little and aspired to be regarded as “one of the brave”. . Petrina waited till the first two turned down the path leading to the manor then, carefully, anxiously glancing left and right, scurried after them, but as he came face to face with the main entrance of the ruined building all his strength left him — and he saw in vain how Irimiás and the “kid” had quickly ducked behind a bush — he himself was incapable of moving. “I’m going to go mad. I can feel it.” He was so frightened his brow was covered in sweat. “Hell and damnation! What have we got ourselves into?” He held his breath and, with muscles tense to the point of snapping, he finally succeeded in sidling — literally sideways — behind another bush. The sound of something like sniggering grew louder again: it was like a cheerful bunch of people having a lark nearby, it being perfectly natural for such a jolly crew to seek out this particular deserted spot, and to spend their time carousing here in the wind, rain and cold. . And that sniggering — such a strange noise. Cold shivers ran down his back. He peeped out to the path, then, when he judged the moment to be opportune, set off like a lunatic and bolted over to Irimiás the way a soldier might leap, under enemy fire and at risk of his life, from trench to trench during battle. “Here pal. .,” he whispered in a choking voice as he settled by the squatting figure of Irimiás. “What’s going on here?” “I can’t see anything at the moment,” the other answered, his voice quiet and steady, in full control of himself, never taking his eyes off what used to be the manor gardens, “but I expect we’ll find out soon.” “No,” grunted Petrina: “I don’t want to find out!” “It’s like they’re having a proper party. .,” said the “kid’, excited, breathlessly impatient for his master to entrust him with something. “Here!” squealed Petrina: “In the rain?. . In the middle of nowhere?. . Boss, let’s run now before it’s too late!” “Shut your mouth, I can’t hear anything!” “I can hear! I can hear! That’s why I say we — ” “Quiet!” Irimiás thundered at him. There was no sign of movement in the park where the oaks, the walnuts, the boxwood and flowerbeds were all densely overgrown with weed so Irimiás decided, since he could only see a small part of it, that they should carefully creep forward. He grabbed Petrina’s wildy waving arm and dragging him behind him they slowly made their way to the main entrance, then tiptoed along the wall to the right, Irimiás at the head, but when he reached the corner of the building and warily looked towards the back of the park, he stopped dead in his tracks for a moment then quickly drew back his head. “What’s there?!” Petrina whispered: “Shall we run?” “You see that little shack?” Irimiás asked, his voice tense. “We’ll make for it. One by one. I go first, then you, Petrina, and you last, kid. Is that clear?” No sooner had he said it than he was off in the direction of the old summerhouse, running, keeping low. “I’m not going!” muttered Petrina, clearly confused: “That’s at least twenty yards. We’ll be shot full of holes by the time we reach it!” The “kid” pushed him roughly forward — “Get going!” — and Petrina, not expecting to be pushed, lost his balance after a few steps and lay sprawled in the mud. He immediately got up but then within a few yards threw himself face down again and only reached the summerhouse by crawling on his belly like a snake. He was so scared he didn’t even dare to look up for a while, covering his eyes with his hands, lying perfectly still on the ground, then, once he had realized that “thanks to God’s mercy” he was still alive, he plucked up his courage, sat up and peeked at the park through a gap. His already wrecked nerves were not up to the sight. “Down!” he screamed, and once again threw himself flat on the ground. “Don’t scream, you idiot!” Irimiás snapped at him. “If I hear another peep out of you I’ll wring your neck!” At the back of the park, in front of three enormous naked oaks, in a clearing, wrapped in a series of transparent veils, lay a small body. They might h