Broken April by Ismaíl Kadaré Page B

Diana’s handsome features offered him no reassurance.
    They had been travelling for some hours when their carriage halted at the side of the road. Before they had had time to ask why they had stopped, they saw the coachman come up to the window on Bessian’s side and open the door. He said that this was a place where they might have lunch.
    Only then did Bessian and Diana notice that they had stopped in front of a steep-roofed building that must be an inn.
    â€œStill another four or five hours to the Castle of Orosh,” the coachman explained to Bessian. “And I think that there is no other suitable place for refreshment between. Then, the horses need a rest, too.”
    Without answering, Bessian stepped down and stretched out his hand to his wife to help her. She steppeddown nimbly, and still holding her husband’s hand she looked towards the inn. Several people had come to the threshold and were staring at the new arrivals. Another man, the last to emerge from the inn door, approached them with a halting step.
    â€œWhat can we do for you?” he said respectfully.
    It was clear that this man was the innkeeper. The coachman asked him whether they could eat lunch at the inn and whether there was fodder for the horses.
    â€œCertainly. Do come in, please,” the man replied, pointing to the door, but looking at a different part of the wall where there was no door nor any kind of entrance. “Enter, and welcome.”
    Diana looked at him astonished, but Bessian whispered, “he’s squint-eyed.”
    â€œI have a private room,” he explained. “It so happens that the table is taken today, but I’ll arrange another one for you. Ali Binak and his assistants have been here for three days,” he added proudly. “What did you say? Yes, Ali Binak himself. Don’t you know who he is?”
    Bessian shrugged.
    â€œAre you from Shkoder? No? From Tirana? Oh, of course, with a carriage like that. Will you stay the night here?”
    â€œNo, we’re going to the
Kulla
of Orosh.”
    â€œOh, yes. I thought as much. It’s more than two years since I saw a carriage like that. Relatives of the prince?”
    â€œNo, his guests.”
    As they passed through the great hall of the inn on the way to their private room, Diana felt the stares of the customers, of whom some were eating lunch at a long, grubby oak table, while others sat in the corners on theirpacks of thick black woolen cloth. Two or three, sitting on the bare floor, moved a little to let the small group through.
    â€œThese past three days we have had a good deal of excitement because of a boundary dispute that is to be settled nearby.”
    â€œA boundary dispute?” Bessian asked.
    â€œYes, sir,” said the innkeeper, pushing open a dilapidated door with one hand. “That’s why Ali Binak and his assistants have come.”
    He said these last words in a low voice, just as the travellers crossed the threshold of the private room.
    â€œThere they are,” whispered the innkeeper, nodding towards an empty corner of the room. But his guests, now used to the innkeeper’s squint, looked in another direction, where at an oak table, but smaller and somewhat cleaner than the one in the public room, three men were eating lunch.
    â€œI’ll bring another table right away,” the innkeeper said, and he disappeared. Two of the diners looked up at the newcomers, but the third went on eating without lifting his eyes from his plate. From behind the door, there came a grating noise punctuated by thumping sounds, drawing nearer and nearer. Soon they saw two table legs, then part of the innkeeper’s body, and then the whole table and the innkeeper grotesquely entangled.
    He set down the table and left to fetch their seats.
    â€œPlease be seated,” he said, arranging the stools. “What would you like?”
    After asking what there was, Bessian said at last that they