Part11.
The
strange adventure she had experienced in the rain had an extraordinary effect
on Dada's mood. All night long, wrapped in strange dreams, she floated among
the clouds and slept so deeply that she first missed breakfast and then almost
missed lunch as well.
As
for the Padrone, he had barely managed to fall asleep. He had not closed his
eyes until dawn, thinking about Dada's future. He had never seen her eyes shine
like that before.
Suitors
for Dada's hand were not infrequent, although no one who pleased the girl had
appeared yet. There were plenty of stuck-up young men, puffed up by their
fathers' money, who would cast a calculating glance at the estate while
enjoying Dada's beauty with satisfied expressions.
The
girl was indeed extraordinarily beautiful, yet for some reason, she often
behaved tactlessly at the table, which greatly surprised the Padrone; however,
he bore it calmly and said nothing.
Once, a
guest suggested that the young people should go out separately, take a walk in
the garden, and get to know each other better.
However,
the candidate for mother-in-law proudly arched her neck and replied in a
mocking tone:
- Hmm!
And what would they even talk about?
Dada,
as if she had not even heard the insult directed at her, started stirring her
tea with a spoon so loudly, with such a carefree and cheerful expression, that
she nearly cracked the bottom of the cup.
"So,
that’s why she was behaving like that! She was taking revenge on all those
people who mocked others' misfortunes! Hmm!"
The
Padrone smiled to himself.
"Dada
may seem like a flighty little girl, and yet... why do they assume that because
a girl cannot speak, she must be mentally impaired? In reality, they are the
dull ones! She is quite clever and expresses exactly what she wants!"
The
Padrone turned over in bed.
"She
doesn’t like Zeki either, and I certainly don't want them paired up. Their
child, hmm! The child of a killer! A carrier of terrible genes! Saturated with
the sins of Zeki and his ancestors! It is a very good thing that Dada doesn't
like him! That is exactly what I want! The servants are always flirting with
her, but I haven't noticed anything. Perhaps she hasn't liked anyone yet, and I
wouldn't stop her if she were happy. But today, her eyes were shining in a
different way. I have never seen them like that. Could it be that she likes our
gardener? But when did they even become friends? Maybe he came specifically to
seize the estate? Still, he is a wonderful young man, quiet, not afraid of
work, and he doesn't find the work of a gardener—the least paid job on our
estate—demeaning. Any other man would surely have demanded different work,
something more 'manly' with a higher salary. Yet he says nothing. He is
satisfied with everything. Perhaps he has his eyes on Dada's wealth and that is
why he acts this way? If he makes her happy, then why not! Dada doesn't lack
wealth; let them live sweetly! No! I must speak with him! I must find out who
he really is and what he wants! And why did he pretend to be such an old,
frail, helpless man?
Tomorrow
I will speak to him! I will definitely speak to him and demand answers!"
The
Padrone thought, and eventually, he drifted off to sleep.
The
gardener was the only one who didn't sleep that night. He had tossed aside the
clothes gifted to him by the Padrone and lay there wrapped in a blanket,
shivering from the cold. The frost would not let him sleep for a long time.
"It
will probably snow,"
he
thought to himself, and his shivering intensified more and more.
"I
wish it would dawn soon..."
In the
morning, it did indeed snow. The courtyard covered in a white blanket was a
beautiful sight.
Dada
was sleeping peacefully.
The
Padrone got up. He had to put his thoughts from the night into action; he
needed to get to know the gardener well. He had to clear up everything—who he
was and where he had come from.
Usually,
it was the Padrone's custom, when accepting a new servant, to first give them a
trial period. In the meantime, he would get to know them well himself, while
sending loyal people to find out about their past, and only then would he
decide whether to keep them or not.
But
with the gardener, things had happened quite differently. It was Dada herself
who had demanded he stay on the estate. At that very time, the Padrone was
expecting business guests, and then he simply forgot, and everything resolved
itself quite suddenly.
However,
the old beggar, that seemingly insignificant poor old man bustling about,
turned out to be much younger.
"Could
he be a spy after all? But he had never even come near the house before. Or
perhaps Dada had noticed him earlier, and then he just feigned misery?"
The
Padrone smiled. He was not a man easily deceived, and he would put an end to
this uncertainty right now. He got up at dawn and headed to the servants to
find out the gardener's history.
The
Padrone was surprised when he did not find the gardener in the servants'
quarters. "Were the rooms not enough for you?" he seemed to scold the
servants, but they reported: "What can we do, Master? He himself wished to
live in that hut."
The
Padrone, fuming, made his way along the snow-covered path. At the end of the
courtyard, near the tool shed, the gardener had put up a wooden hut for himself
and was living there; he even ate there, refusing to stay in the large kitchen
designated for the other servants.
- What
the devil does he want here?! - the Padrone grumbled as he opened the door, and
was left stunned.
Wrapped
in an old, faded plaid blanket, his face barely visible, the gardener was
slumped over a large crate that served as a bed, moaning with a muffled voice.
The Padrone pulled back the blanket; his face was flushed with fever. He was
just as pitiful a sight as when he had first seen him.
The
gardener was moaning with a look of terrible suffering. The Padrone let go of
the plaid blanket; it seemed somewhat overly wet, and he looked down at his
bloodstained hand in surprise. Now he pulled the cover back further, and at the
sight of the gardener's blood-soaked body, he jumped back.
The
Padrone barely restrained himself, then called his loyal servant and ordered
him to keep silent, instructing him to quietly inquire who could have committed
all this. He himself did not leave the hut while waiting for the doctor,
checking the wounded gardener's breathing from time to time.
"What
on earth happened?! Who dares to do this here, on my estate! Without my
knowledge! What is going on here at all! I must re-examine everyone from the
beginning! I must check them one by one!"
A
thousand thoughts were swirling in his head, and he was barely holding back
from shouting aloud at the servants.
"If
only this man survives now... and then I will show them!"
The
doctor intended to go into the house, but the servant signaled for him to go
the other way. The doctor was very surprised and not at all pleased.
"What
a strange man; he dragged me out for the sake of a servant, so early in the
morning, and in such heavy snow."
The
doctor was fuming, but when they passed the servants' quarters and headed
toward the stables, he was completely beside himself.
"Does
he think I’m a veterinarian or something?!"
Furious
as he was, he didn't even want to enter the hut, but he noticed the Padrone
right at the door and could not retreat out of fear. He looked around the hut
with dissatisfaction, glanced at the abandoned gardener with disdain, and cast
such a look of disgust at the Padrone that everything was clear: the doctor not
only had no desire to treat the patient, he didn't even want to go near him.
The
Padrone met him with a furious glare:
- Shall
I remind you of the Hippocratic Oath, Doctor? - He emphasized the last word
quite sternly and cynically, and an evil spark flashed in his eyes.
The
doctor was startled, but when he looked at the blood-stained body, his fear
grew even more; he thought, "They won't let me out of here alive
either," and having no other choice, he began to examine the patient.
The
gardener had a fairly deep wound; it had missed his heart by just a hair's
breadth. This time, the doctor looked around the place carefully; there was no
trace of blood on the floor, only the gardener was swimming in blood, and even
the plaid blanket was undamaged.
The
Padrone watched in silence, tracking every movement of the doctor.
- Are
you thinking what I’m thinking? - he said to the doctor in a low voice.
The
doctor nodded.
- If he
was stabbed while sleeping, they must have pulled the blanket back first and
then covered him up again. Probably so that no one would notice for a long
time.
- That
means this is no accident; he was doomed to die! - the Padrone hissed through
his teeth, turned his back on the doctor, and began staring outside. His gaze
was terrifying. Just like it had been before, a long time ago. Just like in the
old days, in his old life.
"I
don’t want to think it, but it looks like Zek’s work. A cleverly devised,
cunningly executed crime..."
Zek
even had his own room here; he could spend the night whenever he wanted, off
the main entrance, on the other side of the corridor. He could come and go at
any time without the Padrone ever seeing him.
"I
won’t forgive him if he tries to overstep me!
I won’t forgive him!
I won’t
forgive anyone!"
He was
startled out of his thoughts by the doctor's voice:
- He
has a high fever and has lost a lot of blood; it is impossible to keep him
here. We must rush him to the hospital!
LEX. February 7, 2016, Sunday.
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