though more often heâd wipe the floor with them. Got quite a reputation for it, at so young an age. A real reputation. Still carries it with him in this village.
âBut young Anna never loved him for that, Galileo. You see, Anna was always chiding him and slapping him about the head and making him blush for it. Annaâs always been the only one who could keep the reins on him. No, she loved him for reasons all her own. Everyone could see she wouldnât even look at another man, despite everything she could have had from them. Despite her beauty. Not another single man. In truth it was Anna and PaweÅ together always, as if they were the very model of love, as if their names had been written together in the book of love. Or in the stars, eh, Galileo?
âAnyway, your brother had been learning leatherwork since he was fourteen or so, but all the trouble he got himself into and those own natural habits of his put him far out of favour with the man he was apprenticed toâold Manasik, who died a few years ago from too much vodka. Manasik kept telling your brother to calm himself down or he would withdraw the apprenticeship with his shop, and what with so many men unemployed and what with him still living under your familyâs roof that would be a thing worth regretting for the rest of his life. PaweÅ was sixteen when Manasik started his threats. He put up with it for half a year, and then finally his patience crumbled just like coal under rotting brackets, and one afternoon he threw the saddle he was making half finished right at Manasikâs belly, laying him to the floor. If he wasnât such a fat beast, I think he would have been crippled or even worse by the force of it.
âSo PaweÅ left the leather trade.
âThing is, Galileo, your mother and your father, they never knew of this. Francesca found out later, but she didnât tell them, didnât want to cause them upset. Your mother and your father only knew when it was too late. Thatâs the next thing you have to understand about all this. Because PaweÅ told them he had left Manasikâs employ, true enough, but then he also told them that a hidesman near Pietraszowice, your motherâs birthplace, wanted his labour. This was a lie. This was the lie your brother told. And he worked hard and with great cunning to maintain that lie. You see, boy, PaweÅ did begin to work around Pietraszowice, but not in the way he told your family. And he came home the hours you would expect for a hardworking apprentice, often staying overnight on account of the travel distance. He made sure too that if your mother or your father had cared to make enquiries, a man who called himself Jorg Mroncz, bag-maker and saddlesmith, would vouch for himâas indeed would many others, for PaweÅ had made a lot of connections where he needed them and made them fast.
âNow you must understand that PaweÅ did not start this new venture all by himself. Even one such as PaweÅ could not have the knowledge to do it, or necessarily the will. To gain will, you must have others around prepared to foster it in you. So this is what happened: After Manasik kicked him out onto the street, PaweÅ fell in with a bad crowd. Not from this village, mind you, but from neighbouring parts. A wandering group of petty criminals and malingerers, Galileo, a no-good bunch. One or two of them had heard of PaweÅâs troubles and had heard too of his street brawls and his surly reputation. They approached him, invited him to drink a bottle or two of vodka and to smoke with them, and persuaded him to join their team. And though great worry would be brought upon your own family, boy, by your brotherâs decision that day, if the truth be told I never really blamed him for it. What could he do, without a job and a means to help the family thrive? Unemployableâin this village, anyway. Keen to keep Annaâs love, and young; young and filled with
âBut young Anna never loved him for that, Galileo. You see, Anna was always chiding him and slapping him about the head and making him blush for it. Annaâs always been the only one who could keep the reins on him. No, she loved him for reasons all her own. Everyone could see she wouldnât even look at another man, despite everything she could have had from them. Despite her beauty. Not another single man. In truth it was Anna and PaweÅ together always, as if they were the very model of love, as if their names had been written together in the book of love. Or in the stars, eh, Galileo?
âAnyway, your brother had been learning leatherwork since he was fourteen or so, but all the trouble he got himself into and those own natural habits of his put him far out of favour with the man he was apprenticed toâold Manasik, who died a few years ago from too much vodka. Manasik kept telling your brother to calm himself down or he would withdraw the apprenticeship with his shop, and what with so many men unemployed and what with him still living under your familyâs roof that would be a thing worth regretting for the rest of his life. PaweÅ was sixteen when Manasik started his threats. He put up with it for half a year, and then finally his patience crumbled just like coal under rotting brackets, and one afternoon he threw the saddle he was making half finished right at Manasikâs belly, laying him to the floor. If he wasnât such a fat beast, I think he would have been crippled or even worse by the force of it.
âSo PaweÅ left the leather trade.
âThing is, Galileo, your mother and your father, they never knew of this. Francesca found out later, but she didnât tell them, didnât want to cause them upset. Your mother and your father only knew when it was too late. Thatâs the next thing you have to understand about all this. Because PaweÅ told them he had left Manasikâs employ, true enough, but then he also told them that a hidesman near Pietraszowice, your motherâs birthplace, wanted his labour. This was a lie. This was the lie your brother told. And he worked hard and with great cunning to maintain that lie. You see, boy, PaweÅ did begin to work around Pietraszowice, but not in the way he told your family. And he came home the hours you would expect for a hardworking apprentice, often staying overnight on account of the travel distance. He made sure too that if your mother or your father had cared to make enquiries, a man who called himself Jorg Mroncz, bag-maker and saddlesmith, would vouch for himâas indeed would many others, for PaweÅ had made a lot of connections where he needed them and made them fast.
âNow you must understand that PaweÅ did not start this new venture all by himself. Even one such as PaweÅ could not have the knowledge to do it, or necessarily the will. To gain will, you must have others around prepared to foster it in you. So this is what happened: After Manasik kicked him out onto the street, PaweÅ fell in with a bad crowd. Not from this village, mind you, but from neighbouring parts. A wandering group of petty criminals and malingerers, Galileo, a no-good bunch. One or two of them had heard of PaweÅâs troubles and had heard too of his street brawls and his surly reputation. They approached him, invited him to drink a bottle or two of vodka and to smoke with them, and persuaded him to join their team. And though great worry would be brought upon your own family, boy, by your brotherâs decision that day, if the truth be told I never really blamed him for it. What could he do, without a job and a means to help the family thrive? Unemployableâin this village, anyway. Keen to keep Annaâs love, and young; young and filled with
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