He sighed and coughed so hard he had to hit himself in the chest with his fist because something got stuck, then he coughed it up and spat it out and he turned back around to the wagons and carried on:
“One time, you know, my grandfather Mikołaj told me how long ago God was handing out riches. He called all the people that lived on earth because he wanted to give things out fairly. But first there came the princes and judges and merchants and other rich folk. They arrived in all different kinds of carriages. And, they were racing each other, the drivers were lashing the horses so hard their whips snapped. And the peasants, like you’d expect, even if some of them had a horse they didn’t want to tire it out if they didn’t need to, so they came on foot. And even though it was God they were visiting, it was still a ways. So when they got there God had already given everything away to those other folks. God was really upset that there were still some other people, because the rich men had told him that was everyone. Also, he could see the peasants were dressed in rags. They had shoes made of linden bark, and coarse shirts with rope belts. They didn’t even have caps to take off when they came into God’s presence. And so God was even more troubled.
“ ‘What have I got for you, my little golden people?’ he says. ‘I’ve given everything away. All I have left is the crown of thorns on my head and this cloak you see me in. I’m as poor as you are.’
“He sat there, he rested his chin on his hand, lowered his head, and thought and thought. The peasants reckoned nothing would come of it and one of them says:
‘ “All right, we’ll be on our way, God.’
“But God says:
‘ “Just a moment. I’ll give you a little of my patience. If you take it, you’ll be able to put up with anything. Because people are going to have more need for patience than for riches.” ’
Kuś fell to thinking and stared at the passing cars. All of us on our wagons followed suit and stared at the cars like he was. And maybe they were even a bit less mad at them. All of a sudden Kuś pointed at the road with his whip and shouted:
“Hey, two hundred!”
“What about two hundred?”
“That’s how many have driven past.”
“What are you counting them for? It’s a waste of time. They’re not worth it.”
“Well, when there’s nothing else a fellow can do, he can at least count. My old father, God rest his soul, he’d always tell me, count, son, keep counting, you never know when it’ll come in handy. One time, you know, in the summertime we were lying under this apple tree in the orchard of a Sunday. I was already grown up. Father wasn’t saying anything and I wasn’t saying anything either. Father let his hat slip down over his forehead, I thought he was asleep. So I closed my eyes a moment too. Then all at once he says:
‘ “Three thousand five hundred and eighty-three.’
‘ “What do you mean, three thousand five hundred and eighty-three, dad?’ I ask, I thought he was dreaming.
‘ “That’s how many apples there are on the tree.’
‘ “How do you know?’
“ ‘I counted them. I always count things when something’s bothering me. You should too. Start with raspberries. There aren’t that many raspberries on a bush, so it won’t be too hard. After that, try counting the sloes on a sloe tree. Then break open a poppy head and count the seeds. Go up on a hill and count the fields and meadows and field boundaries. Count whatever you see in front of you, pigeons, clouds, people at funerals, posts in a fence, rocks in the river. Just never be idle. And if one time you can count all the stars in the night sky, then you’ll be able to say you have patience and you can overcome anything. I never was able to, but you should try. Maybe you’ll manage it.’ ”
“Hey there, Bartłomiej!” someone called from one of the wagons down the line. “I think there’s a gap, get going now!”
But there wasn’t any gap to be seen. The cars were closer and closer together. They were starting not to have enough space, they were honking at each other and flashing their lights and braking.
“The bastards won’t even let you take home a wagonload of sheaves!” said Wicek Marzec behind me. “Not that it’ll stop them eating the stuff. They can’t get enough of it!”
The men on the wagons started getting riled up again.
“They’re breeding like reptiles!”
“You know what, Wincenty, they’re not reptiles, they’re germs!”
“Can’t God do something?”
“What can God do? God made the world without cars! Cars must have been made by the devil.”
“Never mind the devil. I wish a big tree would just fall across the road and kill them all, damn them.”
All of a sudden Stach Brożyna, who was standing up astride his sheaves, started waving his whip in the direction of the road.
“Hey, you there! Stop for a minute, you sons of bitches! We’ll get across and you can all be on your way!” He was jumping about so much his horses took fright. They jerked forward, and Stach toppled over and landed on the sheaves. Everyone roared with laughter. Stach didn’t let up though. He got back on his feet. “Hey, you!” But he realized shouting at the cars wasn’t going to do any good, and he started firing up the other men:
“Come on, guys! Are we sheep or what? Someone ought to go up onto the road and wave his arms. Maybe they’ll stop!”
“That’s not gonna happen. Now if we all went out, maybe we could block their way.”
“What are they, water, that we have to block their way? What we should do is take our scythes and pitchforks to them! With them folks that’s always the only way!”
“Or throw rocks at their windshields!”
Anger swept along the line of wagons. Even Kuś got carried away and shouted:
“A cross is what you need! Across would stop them! No one can stand up to the cross. Nip over to the church, you know! It’s a hop and a skip. Bring a cross and go out on the road with it! The priest won’t mind. Tell him we can’t get over the road with our wagons.”
“That’s bullshit! A cross? You might as well just spit on the ground in front of them.”
“Don’t you blaspheme now! The cross is bullshit?” His voice even got hoarse. “You’ll be begging at that cross yet, damn you. Why do you think people put crosses and chapels and shrines by the roadside? So nothing bad will happen when you’re walking or driving there. Or at a crossroads? So you’ll know which way to go when you’re lost! You know, one time in the first war we were marching down a road just like this one. We were soldiers, not civilians. And it was a whole lot narrower. There was no blacktop back in those days, just dirt. From the other direction there was a funeral procession with the cross at the front. We’d barely heard them saying the ‘Eternal Rest’ when our CO gives the order, Don’t kick up dust! Pick your feet up high!”
At that moment Stach Brożyna, who’d been standing taking a piss by his load, ran up to Kuś’s wagon, buttoning himself up as he came.
“You’re talking crap! Goddammit!” And just like that he lashed out once and twice at Kuś’s mare. “It’s because of you, it’s because of you we’re waiting here! Gee up! Gee up!”
The mare took the strain and jerked forward. Kuś pulled back on the reins with all his might till the animal’s head twisted, and he didn’t let go.
“Whoa! Stop! What fault is it of hers, you son of a bitch!”