III THE LONG VERSION
Sunday 10th February 1923
Ceremony: The Cigani arrive in the village led by their matriarch, Luminitza Vencovic. The villagers gather in the street brandishing burning torches. Expectation is palpable. A young girl of teenage years is thrust forward by the Cigani, dressed in a skirt of leaves and skin covered in dirt. She enters the mayor’s cottage and proceeds to sway in rhythm to some low indiscernible chant beneath her breath. She moves about the house and when her cavorting is complete the mayor’s wife, Illya, tips a ladle of water over the girl. As the girl exits the house, Nedic presents her with a small package which she places in a basket.
House-to-House: The girl moves to the cottage next door and the process is repeated. She goes on to visit almost every house throughout the village, everyone following in procession. The girl emerges from each home getting notable wetter and her basket filling with more trinket gifts. Rather than a fertility rite, it seems to us more like a blessing being conferred upon each home. The only places not visited are the village church and the home of its priest. Anna, the priest’s wife, attracts the attention of Ludwig. She implores him to come away from the crowds and join her in prayer at the church; to pray for the souls of the villagers. She clearly is uncomfortable with pagan ritual.
Epiphany: In the street Letty notices the Cigani wise-woman, Luminitza, wears a cord around her neck from which hangs a bone-whistle identical to the one given to Ludwig by Nedic. The wise-woman stares directly back at Letty. Upon eye-contact, Letty stands entranced, struck with sudden vision and terrible understanding: The Cigani ritual is a ward against Shub-Niggurath, a dreaded entity known also as the Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young. When she snaps back to her senses, Letty is in a state of shock; unable to account for where and how such blasphemous knowledge could have been drawn to her mind.
Retiring for the night: The ceremony and its procession draws to a close. The young Cigani girl is wet through and dithering with cold. She is given dry clothes before the Cigani take their leave of the village. Letty does her best to explain her revelation to the rest of the investigators. The explanation however is cut short as Nedic intervenes to invite Cartwright and Pierre back to his home to stay overnight. Ludwig, Banks, Father Mika and Letty head over to Father Kristijan’s place.
At the Priest’s house: Conversation is subdued in the quiet and solemn atmosphere of the Filopovic house. Everyone decides to retire early. During the night, Ludwig is woken by a noise. He opened the door of his guestroom a crack and peeped out. He saw George Banks creeping down the stairs. Banks had been roused by the sound of voices downstairs. The talking came from the kitchen in hushed tones and an unfamiliar speech, but he determined that there must be at least three speakers. Pushing open the kitchen door he found Anna standing there alone. There was nobody else. Banks excused his intrusion; he didn’t mean to startle her. Anna simply smiled saying she too was unable to sleep and had come down to make a hot drink. She offered him some tea. During small talk, Anna warns Banks not to trust anybody who has truck with the Cigani.
At the Mayor’s House: Music, drink and raucous laughter fill the packed Nedic family cottage. Pierre and Cartwright dance wildly with the family and imbibe home-brewed alcohol with free abandon. The party continued into the early hours, until the revellers succumbed to drink-induced slumber.
Monday 11th February 1923
The morning after the night before: Pierre and Cartwright awoke in rough cots, fully dressed, with a number of Nedic’s pet hounds curled up with them. They had just arisen from their pits when Banks, Letty, Mika and Ludwig arrived at Nedic’s cottage looking much refreshed after a good night’s repose. The same cannot be said for the embarrassing state of Cartwright and Boudin-Noir. The pair was suffering from pounding heads and their clothes stank of unwashed dog. Illya Nedic cleared empty booze bottles from the table and served us all a hearty breakfast.
Our guide: We informed Nedic of our intention to visit the Grandmother in the woods. Nedic offers the services of one of his sons, Petrov, to guide us. Petrov though, he warns us, will not accompany us into the woods; he will only show us the way. Petrov speaks no English. We set out. Petrov leads us into the countryside, across fields and gullies under a brilliant blue sky and a dazzling sun. The temperature is an improvement on yesterday. The country is scenic and verdant. We soon spy wisps of smoke rising from the nearby Cigani camp. Petrov shows no interest in taking us anywhere near the Cigani. Less than an hour after leaving Orašac, Petrov abandons us in sight of the tree line of a great forest. Our guide will not take a step closer. On the steppe before the trees is prime grazing land, but no local it would seem dares to let his animals roam under the shadow of the brooding forest.
Into the forest: The evergreen forest is a great pinewood. There are no paths. We stumble over roots and wade through undergrowth. The air is thick with humus—the smell of earth and organic decay— and the penetration of daylight is restricted by the closeness of the trees. And then, a new smell comes to our senses—the smell of freshly baked bread. We spy a clearing ahead, in the centre of which stands a wooden cottage with a thatched roof. Surrounding the cottage are tended gardens of saplings skirted by a briarwood fence. We get an unnerving feeling, like something watches us from the periphery of our vision—but there’s nothing there to see.
Knock, knock: We approach the cottage. Banks inadvertently cuts his hand on thorns sticking out from the briar fence. We rap at the door and call out in English. A sweet voice from within bids us enter. The interior of the cottage is a single large space. The walls have many shelves adorned with fragments of worked stone—Roman and Byzantine works abound, rescued, we imagine, from classical ruins. Our attention is mostly fixed upon the sole occupant of the cottage; a stunningly beautiful young woman who introduces herself as Kcerca. Seemingly unfazed by our visit she gestures to the fresh bread cooling on the table should we wish to help ourselves. Kcerca is sat on a stool with a wooden frame before her. She continues to busy herself with her needlework, passing a needle deftly back and forth through the tapestry she is weaving.
The right arm: We inform Kcerca we are here to see The Grandmother. Kcerca smiles sweetly. "Grandmother will be back soon”, she replies. “Please, make yourselves at home”. We peruse the shelves. Ludwig spies an interesting piece near the ceiling rafter, a right arm with a porcelain veneer. He nudges Letty and indicates to what he has seen. When we enquire about the possibility of purchasing some of the pieces Kcerca confirms Grandmother would be pleased to negotiate with us.
What was I doing? Banks tries to negotiate directly with Kerca for the porcelain arm. He looks deep into Kerca’s eyes and instantly forgets what he was asking about. Cartwright is mooching around when Kcerca invites him to inspect the tapestry she’s weaving. He doesn’t want to look but feels strangely obliged to do so. Cartwright stares at a village scene depicting Orašac. The figures in the village are so life-like and detailed that he can recognise the people. Cartwright feels utterly mesmerised. And then we all find ourselves imbibing tea that Kcerca has poured for us—though none of us is sure why we assented to sit and drink.
Grandmother: There’s the sound of a flapping breeze outside followed by footsteps on the path. The cottage door swings open and a draught gusts through the cottage. An old crone steps in wearing traditional embroidered skirts and cloak. Her ancient face is wrinkled and her chin is marked by a large protruding mole. Kcerca greets her in a strange language. Banks notes the similarity of the language to the speech he heard in Anna’s kitchen last night. We introduce ourselves and explain our presence. We have mutual friends in Filopivc and Todorivic. Like them, we are interested in purchasing classical pieces from her collection.
Such a kind old lady: Kcerca busies herself with pots and tins and then begins to chop vegetables in preparation for an evening meal. We’re invited to stay but we wish to be away before dark. We turn to the crux of our purpose. We perceive there’s no point in deceiving Grandmother, we tell her as much of the truth as we dare. We are collecting broken pieces of an artefact that, if made whole, would form a malevolent item so terrible that it must be denied to evil-doers. We intend to destroy the item forever—but we need all the pieces to achieve this. We ask Grandmother, will she sell us the porcelain piece and help us save the world? To our surprise Grandmother agrees – and she asks only for the paltry sum of 300 dinar. Perhaps she truly understands the importance of what we do?
Oh!: Banks climbs up to retrieve the right arm of the Simulacrum, but as he touches it his world goes dark. Grandmother stands up and begins to sing. The stone fragments of hands and legs on the shelves close to Banks come to life and grip him tightly. The reeds of the thatched ceiling suddenly become a writhing mass of tentacles reaching down to him. Grandmother cackles. She wields a large baking shovel used for fetching hot loaves from the bread oven. She expertly slips it beneath Banks’ feet and flips him so that he falls toward the oven which has animated into a greedy gaping maw of black-iron teeth with a throat of orange fire. Banks twists at the vital moment to avoid the snapping mouth and an awful fate.
Time to leave: Kcerca raises the large chopping knife she’s been using and threatens to gut Ludwig. Before she can swing the blade however the whole cottage lurches and Ludwig falls backwards. Everyone clings on to whatever they can as the cottage pitches one way and another, as if the whole building has come to life and is rising up. We all dash in panic to escape through the only exit. Pierre, in his alarm cannot see the door. He cannot perceive the way out. Cartwright grabs Pierre’s wrist and pulls him through the door. In turn, we each either leap deliberately or tumble uncontrollably through the cottage doorway. All six of us crash to the path below. Though hurt and far from safe yet, we are at least pleased to see that Banks has, in his grasp, the right arm of the Simulacrum.
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