Viktor the Impaler
Dining amidst a field of gallows and impaled prisoners. Ilona read the line a few times by candlelight, letting it sink in; as if she was hoping, it would change or disappear. A reputation for excessive cruelty. Was she really reading this or was it a dream? A few days after the lovemaking and the army's departure, Ilona had grown bored with the inactivity in the settlement and had begun reading. Janos had decided to delay the departure until he felt "at peace" with the surrounding forests energy, whatever that meant. She had since run out of books to read and had stumbled upon a hidden wooden chest of Janos'. There had never been any secrets between her and Janos, until now of course, so naturally she began to read the texts that were the contents of that barely locked chest.
It turned out that most of the texts were detailing the mortal history of Viktor - a tyrant that took sadistic pleasure in torturing and killing, a monster so cruel he needed to be stopped. Ilona felt like she could not make the connection with the written words to her brain anymore, the connection to the man she knew, the man she thought she loved. She did not know any of this. Yes, she knew Viktor was a determined leader and fighter, but she did not know any of this. Of course, she knew that everyone who knew him was frightened of him, but she thought it was more respect then plain out fear. Apparently, according to written word, Viktor's actions went beyond justice or fairness.
Some of the stories said the number of victims he had killed was more than Ilona could imagine. In addition to those victims, he also had whole villages and fortresses destroyed and burned to the ground. All this in the name of peace? This was not peace, thought Ilona, this was just raw power. An invading army turned back in fright when it encountered thousands of rotting corpses – on the banks of this very settlement that Ilona, Elek and Janos had come to live. An enemy noted for his own psychological warfare tactics, returned after being sickened by the sight. Ilona felt like she was going to throw up. The macabre sketching in these texts did not help, let alone the factual detail she could see in the Warlord's armour, the very armour she had taken off only a few nights ago. Ilona ran from the clearing where she was reading the books to fall on her hands and knees, her stomach promptly emptying itself of a bottle of wine.
Like a soldier, Ilona wiped her mouth and the tears that were trying to invade her weary eyes. The books were like a drug and she forced herself to read them, full of self-hatred and feelings of betrayal. They are all lies, they are all lies, they have to be all lies, Ilona kept repeating to herself in her mind. "You know this is not truth," she murmured to herself. However, if that was the case, then why did she feel so ill? Why did she want to keep on reading and question Janos on the books as soon as she saw him?
Reading the locally written stories about the Warlord was a little like a salve on the wound. They seemed to portray him in a much more positive light: depicting him as a great ruler, a hero, a brave soldier and justly reigning. The stories of atrocities in these volumes were justified as the actions of a strong ruler, using harsh yet fair methods to reclaim land from the corrupt and rich. And he hated evil so much that, if anyone committed some harm, theft or robbery or a lye or an injustice, none of those remained alive. Even if he was a great or an ordinary man, or even if he had a great fortune, he could not pay himself from death. Ilona thought of Andras sadly.
Viktor sat on the throne and all came to pay respect, and brought many gifts and they went back to their houses with great joy. Viktor with the help of Heavens grew into much good and honor as long as he kept the reign of those just people.
Then Ilona found the poetry, which was her favorite form of writing to read. In these Romanian poems, he was painted as a fierce warrior, a figure to contrast with decay of society, suffering of the poor and that his violent methods were a cure. To come, to sort the contemporaries into two teams: fool and rotten and then set fire to the prison and to the fools' home. Ilona had a cold shiver to that. Setting people alight, impaling them and decapitating them was not a cure for anything, she thought, rolling up parchment and calmly throwing it back into the chest. She sat there in silence for a moment. She truly did not know what to think. She was really too drunk to think at all, she thought. Damn drunkard, just like your parents, damn whore – the words echoed through her head, hollow, they lost their sting a long time ago but she still liked to kick herself in the teeth now and again.
Before she had time to argue with herself, hate herself even more, or feel nauseous about Viktor's recorded pastimes, she was having her hair scuffed up by a rough brutish hand. "Reading old war stories and drinking out here in the forest Miss Imre, what have I done to you?" Ilona recognised Janos' voice and his rich laughter, "Bit of a character, our late ruler."
"Late?" Ilona questioned, tilting her head back awkwardly to gaze at the unkempt creature that was Janos, her oldest friend.
"Well, he might as well be dead really... the trading of his soul for personal gain is an obvious event and when we move on from this place, we will never have to see him again or hopefully hear about him." Janos sat down on the wooden chest next to Ilona, patting her on the shoulder in what he thought was a comforting way as she looked at her feet. "What's up dearie? Do you have the spins? You don't look well." Janos held her shoulders, turning her to face him and trying to look into her eyes. Ilona continued to look at her feet. "There's something you're not telling me, spit it out Illy."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"A problem shared is a problem halved."
"I don't have a problem."
"I know what you did. I know how you feel. I know it is all just part of their cursed nature... these unnatural creatures."
"No, you don't. You don't know of anything!" Ilona suddenly shouted and standing up so suddenly that Janos, the big man, almost fell off his chest. She stared down at him angrily, shaking, on the verge of tears, but too stubborn to cry.
"Illy, come on. You can talk to me. It's Janos here, remember?" he reached out to hold her hand, "I am your best friend. I love and care about you."
"Please," a tear ran down Ilona's face, "Please, just leave me alone. I know you mean well, but just leave me alone."
Janos stood up and brushed his garb off, as if cleansing himself of some evil, "We're leaving in the tomorrow. Elek, Zsuzi and I," he had obviously had enough and was raising his voice, "whether you come or not is your decision, but I will not let you put yourself, or all of us really, in danger. I know you haven't been well, I know you haven't been well for a long time, but you've got to fix up the holes in your mind before the demons crawl into them and nest."
Ilona snorted with almost hysterical laughter, "Demons! There are no demons Janos, only men. Evil does not exist, only good choices and bad choices. Morality, it's all just a concept isn't it?"
"I don't want to fight with you. You are drunk. You do not even know what you are saying anymore or what you are doing. You are not well enough to know what you want Illy, or what is best. Let me look after you."
"Seriously, go away Janos. Just leave me alone. I am well and truly sick of your nonsense, is what I am. I can look after myself well enough; I have been doing it long enough." Ilona pushed the bigger man away as he stared dumbfounded at her, "You can't take Elek away from me!" She finished for effect.
"You smell like vomit, dirt and wine," Janos spat and turned to leave, "Clean yourself up and come back by the morning, I mean it. Do not throw away everything you have strived to protect for a monster. You may have lost your mind Ilona, but you are not stupid and I know you care. I know you will do what is right." Janos left, leaving Ilona alone in the forest, feeling more lost and confused than ever.
Ilona did what seemed reasonable to her intoxicated mind and kicked the chest. She then proceeded to rip up and burn all of the texts on Viktor.
As if it would make it all go away, as if it would make it all right.
