and create mischief abroad, but always only in a circle around her. And when she felt it was time she would draw the falcon back in, remind him whose care he was under and upon whom he relied. And then he would become as harmless as a common cockerel. Of every man in the village, PaweÅ understood this best. He knew his calling to her.
âAnd because of that young woman, that young man PaweÅ Sófka, barely older than you, remember, agreed to find another way to live. Perhaps if he had been quicker about it things would have continued harmlessly, with none offended. Who can tell with such things, like guessing the outcome of a rolling die? No one, not even me. Because Annaâs pleas came only a few days too late.
âPaweÅ was already committed to one more night run through the forest, on the midnight between Saturday and Sunday. A small contraband, fruit and fish. He had given his word to the others, and you know PaweÅ is a man of his word. For PaweÅ, his word is his act; no gap exists between the two. Furthermore, if you ask me, he must have known full well then that to bow out of a smugglersâ pact is like signing the warrant for your own death.
âWithout telling Anna, he made what was to be his last illegal border crossing. Now, the way that team did it sometimes, especially with the smaller contrabands, was to divide the run between two men. One would take the goods halfway, meeting another man at the border point, often marked in the forest by only a few stakes, painted Polish colours on one side and German on the other, and sometimes even left unmarked. The second man would then finish the job. This is how it was arranged on this occasion. PaweÅ was to do the first part, the Polish run.
âAnd so he arrived at the forest at midnight, resolved to make this the last time he would come to this place. He carried two loaded sacks and a pistol. The route he would take was imprinted on his mind; if he closed his eyes he was already running it. On the stroke of midnight he began his trip. I dare say, Galileo, that he thought of many things as he ranâof Anna particularly, and of the new kind of life they might soon begin together. It would have been a warm night, despite the hour.
âEventually he reached the rotted border stakes, bent in the earth by crawling tree roots. He had no light. The darkness of the forest whispered around him. And the second man was not there. Only empty night, waiting. Well, PaweÅ stood and waited too, growing nervous. Still the second man did not turn up. PaweÅ was just about to turn back, relieved, Iâm sure, that nothing had happened, so nothing could go wrong, when he heard a noise coming from beyond the borderline on the German side. The noise came and then vanished and then came again. PaweÅ hesitated. He took one step into German territory. Then another and another. The noise seemed always ahead of him and he took more paces to follow it, always ready to run the short distance back to safety.
âAnd then from the darkness emerged men, three or four of them. Men with torches and guns, German police. Your brother turned around and saw more behind him. Trapped. No going back.
âMen whose business is deception often betray each other. The second man had done just this. Perhaps he had got wind of PaweÅâs plans to quit the team and wished to punish him or cut him off before he became a dangerous liability. Perhaps he had simply made some deal with the German authorities. It is impossible to tell. Whatever the truth was, PaweÅ had no choice now but to run, ever further into German soil. He dropped the sacks and bolted, and the police gave chase. He sprinted until his lungs must have felt like bursting. Sprinted and sprinted. He knew much of the forest, which gave him the advantage. And he was fast, fast like a startled wild horse. He ran through the night and the torches grew smaller behind him. Then they started
âAnd because of that young woman, that young man PaweÅ Sófka, barely older than you, remember, agreed to find another way to live. Perhaps if he had been quicker about it things would have continued harmlessly, with none offended. Who can tell with such things, like guessing the outcome of a rolling die? No one, not even me. Because Annaâs pleas came only a few days too late.
âPaweÅ was already committed to one more night run through the forest, on the midnight between Saturday and Sunday. A small contraband, fruit and fish. He had given his word to the others, and you know PaweÅ is a man of his word. For PaweÅ, his word is his act; no gap exists between the two. Furthermore, if you ask me, he must have known full well then that to bow out of a smugglersâ pact is like signing the warrant for your own death.
âWithout telling Anna, he made what was to be his last illegal border crossing. Now, the way that team did it sometimes, especially with the smaller contrabands, was to divide the run between two men. One would take the goods halfway, meeting another man at the border point, often marked in the forest by only a few stakes, painted Polish colours on one side and German on the other, and sometimes even left unmarked. The second man would then finish the job. This is how it was arranged on this occasion. PaweÅ was to do the first part, the Polish run.
âAnd so he arrived at the forest at midnight, resolved to make this the last time he would come to this place. He carried two loaded sacks and a pistol. The route he would take was imprinted on his mind; if he closed his eyes he was already running it. On the stroke of midnight he began his trip. I dare say, Galileo, that he thought of many things as he ranâof Anna particularly, and of the new kind of life they might soon begin together. It would have been a warm night, despite the hour.
âEventually he reached the rotted border stakes, bent in the earth by crawling tree roots. He had no light. The darkness of the forest whispered around him. And the second man was not there. Only empty night, waiting. Well, PaweÅ stood and waited too, growing nervous. Still the second man did not turn up. PaweÅ was just about to turn back, relieved, Iâm sure, that nothing had happened, so nothing could go wrong, when he heard a noise coming from beyond the borderline on the German side. The noise came and then vanished and then came again. PaweÅ hesitated. He took one step into German territory. Then another and another. The noise seemed always ahead of him and he took more paces to follow it, always ready to run the short distance back to safety.
âAnd then from the darkness emerged men, three or four of them. Men with torches and guns, German police. Your brother turned around and saw more behind him. Trapped. No going back.
âMen whose business is deception often betray each other. The second man had done just this. Perhaps he had got wind of PaweÅâs plans to quit the team and wished to punish him or cut him off before he became a dangerous liability. Perhaps he had simply made some deal with the German authorities. It is impossible to tell. Whatever the truth was, PaweÅ had no choice now but to run, ever further into German soil. He dropped the sacks and bolted, and the police gave chase. He sprinted until his lungs must have felt like bursting. Sprinted and sprinted. He knew much of the forest, which gave him the advantage. And he was fast, fast like a startled wild horse. He ran through the night and the torches grew smaller behind him. Then they started
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