Читать книгу Nikolaos The Man Of Dreams ...and The Legend Of Santa Claus - Armando Lazzari - Страница 11

Chapter 1

Myra, Turkey.

Two hooded men moved swiftly through the cobbled streets of the city. One of them seemed highly doubtful.

"But are you sure this holy man can help me?"

The other, now fed up with the paranoia of his traveling companion, replied annoyingly.

"Again? I've told you countless times! When he was in captivity by order of Diocletian¹, his hands were wounded by blessed irons. It seems that these chains were nothing less than those that imprisoned the Nazarene before the crucifixion. From then on his soul was deprived of the ugliest part, and he was transformed into a holy man. If anyone can help you, it's him!"

"You must know that a few years ago there was an onerous matter nagging the blacksmith day and night. In fact, he had promised his three beautiful daughters in marriage to three brave young men from good families. The boys were over the moon because they were madly in love and couldn't wait to fulfil their dream and live a peaceful life together. The blacksmith was so happy, his thoughts so high that, alas, he forgot a cloth near the fire in the workshop. The flames, spreading rapidly, destroyed the place, reducing the blacksmith to misery and desperate for the impossibility of offering his daughters a decent marriage. At that point our dear benefactor came into play, who having always been his client and good friend, decided to help the blacksmith. He was so disinterested in his work that he wanted to help him without people noticing and admiring him, or as he says: 'that your left doesn't know what your right does'. He therefore wanted his action to be known only to God and not to men, for if it had emerged and had the honours of men, he would have lost the merit.

The man listening kept nodding with his head as if he had understood well, but in reality he still missed the meaning of the speech.

"He had great financial means and decided to act in the favour of the night, so he took some gold coins and enclosed them in a cloth, went out of the house and reached the dwelling of the unhappy maidens. As he approached the house, he passed his hand through the window grille and dropped the large bag on the ground. The sudden noise woke up the father who, having discovered the treasure sent from heaven, picked it up and organized the wedding of his eldest daughter."

"Well, I admit it was a very nice gesture..."

"Yes, but that's not the end of it!" he interrupted the other one to resume. "In fact, seeing that the girls' father had made good use of the money he had given them, he decided to repeat the gesture. You can well imagine the blacksmith's joy when he discovered a precious bag again. Thanks to these coins he arranged the marriage of his second daughter. Intuiting the benefactor's plan and therefore the possibility of a third gesture of charity, in the following days he tried to remain vigilant during the night. He burned with the desire to meet the one who had saved his honour. It wasn't long after that, one night, he heard the sound of the third bag falling down making the classic tinkling noise of coins. When the blacksmith spotted a silhouette that was fleeing quickly, he started chasing it and once he reached it he recognized it instantly. But he made him solemnly promise not to reveal it to anyone. Do you see what kind of man he is now?"

"Yes, yes, admirable... although I suppose the blacksmith's promise wasn't kept, otherwise it doesn't explain how you know about it, but surely you had to make a similar promise, didn't you?"

"Details, details... now, hurry up, we're almost there!"

The holy man was kneeling before the altar, immersed in the silence of prayer.

Although he was genuflected, his great size was evident: much taller and stronger than average, it seemed that his muscles were used to work hard, rather than prayer. The well-groomed blonde beard and long wavy hair, together with his ice-blue eyes, made him look more like a northern barbarian than a citizen of the Empire.

The haste that had guided them until then seemed mystically disappeared in the face of the solemnity of the moment, or more simply, neither of them was so bold as to interrupt it, especially because its enormous bulk, accompanied by the fame of those who know how to use their hands well, aroused fear even before respect.

After what seemed like endless minutes, one of the two sketched a simple cough, just to discreetly notify their presence, but the attempt did not bring the desired results.

The two of them, exchanging glances in agreement, gestured to encourage each other to try again with more emphasis. Thus they delivered ever more violent blows, until the Bishop was obliged to pay them attention.

"Brothers, do you need warm milk and honey, or did you want to tell me something important?"

The one who had addressed the needy lowered his head and clutching his hat tightly in his hands began to babble awkwardly.

"Yes, Excellency, it's like you say... I mean no, we don't need honey, although I agree that milk with honey is a great remedy for coughs and that's why I always keep some in the pantry... honey I mean, because milk after a while becomes sour and it's not good for cheese either, while honey..."

The other, seeing that his friend had become bogged down, decided to intervene to stop the river of absurdity that, overflowing, was uselessly flooding the ears of the holy man.

"I need your help! Last night, demons broke into my house, plundered everything, and before they left, they took the souls of my three children!"

The giant, grasping his eyes so much that it almost seemed as if his orbits were about to come out, rose up and, grasping the heavy bishop's staff with one hand, swirled him whirling in the air, thundering his disappointment.

"What? What were you waiting to tell me? Come on, lead me in haste to those children, and on the journey pray to God that he will come in time to save them, or I will vent my wrath upon your empty and useless heads with this stick!"

In a hurry the three of them left the temple, while the Bishop, still incredulous of the stupidity of the two peasants, grumbled with narrow teeth.

"Unconscious lunatics! There are children in mortal danger and they get lost in useless shacks!"

When they reached their destination, signs of devastation from the raid were clearly visible. The hiccups of the mother of the children could be heard distinctly, bent over their bodies lying in thatched beds and immersed in a deep sleep.

"Here they are, Your Excellency. They are wrapped in an endless sleep..."

The Bishop bent over the children and, as he did, unfortunately, those who had already seen such symptoms began to examine them.

"It's just as I thought... the souls of the boys are relegated to limbo halfway between life and death, we must act soon or... the worst will prevail."

The door suddenly opened wide and sneering monstrosities appeared on the threshold, maliciously peering at them.

"Oh my God, the demons! They're back!" cried the man.

Everyone gasped and fled back in terror. All except the holy man, furious at the mere sight of intruders. Foreboding what was going to happen, he grabbed his stick and prepared himself for the fight.

The monsters, whose leader of the pack was supposed to be the biggest, came boldly and showed the worst intentions.

"Nicholas! You finally fell into the trap! The time has come for you to pay your debts to our master, with your blood!"

The other hideous creatures, snickering, foolishly echoed their leader's last words.

"Eh! Eh! Trap! Trap!"

"Your blood... your blood!"

Nicholas, revealing his perplexities, frowned upon his forehead.

"And you think a shabby bunch of Krampus can really bother me?"

"You're a regular loudmouth! However, while we will tear you to pieces, the souls of the little angels you wanted to save will fly straight to the lands of my Lord, slaves for eternity, and you will not be able to avoid it!"

Anger took hold of Nicholas and the hand guided her.

"No more words!"

Swirling the stick in the air, he struck a violent blow on the muzzle of the first Krampus, who, unfortunately, had inadvertently crossed the threshold of safety distance. The jaw, broken on impact, distorted the creature's face in a comical grimace. The creature, pirouetting on itself, headed at great speed on the opposite wall. The others, without further delay, threw themselves screaming at the enemy trying to knock him down, those with nailed clubs, those with spears or sharp sickles. Every attempt to hit him generated skilful parades and quick responses that at first disarmed and then inflicted painful blows. Nicholas alternated the use of the crosier with his fists and slaps, settling them with great satisfaction and with all the power that his enormous bulk made available to him. Whenever one of the evil creatures was put out of action for good, it would dissolve, leaving a greyish dust and disappear forever into the limbo of evil. Much of the furniture was destroyed in the fight, used mainly by Nicholas both to defend himself and to put the enemy out of the game. During the clash, the Bishop had the impression that this group of Krampus was not particularly trained for battle, given their lack of ability to coordinate with each other, and it did not add up. This was also confirmed by the ease with which he disengaged from attacks and how easily he managed to bring them down. One after the other all eleven demons were sent into the underworld, leaving only their wounded and crawling head in the corner of the room under the threat of the giant's coup de grace.

"You think you've won, don't you?" the Krampus insisted.

"Correct me if I'm wrong: you're alone, unarmed and on the ground, what do you think?" replied the man with the confidence of the winner.

Panting despite his condition and panting for his wounds, the creature spat a blackish mush into the ground.

"I may disappear from this world to the underworld, but you, dream man, will never find the way to bring the children back in time!"

The Bishop bent over the demon, grabbed him by his lapel, lifted him up to threaten him more closely.

"Indeed, I believe you will lead me down the right path."

In a grimace the being expressed all his hatred.

"I wouldn't swear to it, Your Excellency!"

Pressing a claw on the abdomen, the Krampus self-inflicted the fatal blow and dissolved in the hands and astonished glances of those present, while a last malignant giggle echoed in undefined points of the room.

"No! Damn him!" he yelled at Nicholas.

While not fully understanding what had happened, others did not escape the concern that appeared on the Bishop's face. Breaking the silence created, the father of the children dared to express his fears.

"Your Excellency, can you still do something for my boys?"

The holy man, although he sought concentration by squeezing with his thumb and index finger the area between the bridge of the nose and the eye cavities, had to surrender to the evidence of the facts: he had fallen into the trap! That group was only sent to slow him down.

"I... I'm sorry, but that thing was right, I don't think..."

As he was about to announce his defeat publicly, the unexpected solution arrived from the front door: a last Krampus burst in, upset by the long wait.

"So? How long does it take to... to..." the little dark demon abruptly suspended the sentence when he entered the room. Noting the absence of his companions and the presence of the Bishop towering imposingly, he sensed that something had gone wrong and decided to improvise.

"...to sell those branches? Yes, good cleaning branches! But I can see you're all very busy, so if you don't mind, I'd like to get out of your hair and..."

Nicholas' heavy stick fell to the ground a few inches from the demon, as a clear warning not to move.

"The next shot will go straight to your ugly face."

The black leprechaun began to sweat cold and, swallowing with difficulty, tried to pity the man with the furious look by kneeling at his feet.

"I beg you, Excellency, show mercy and magnanimity for an unfortunate being who begs for mercy! I'm a simple, pointless mistake! I shouldn't have become a Krampus, I'm too cowardly and incapable, think that they never let me take part in any armed confrontation!

The master only recruited me because there was one missing to form the group of thirteen and I was looking for mushrooms that day. It's the truth, I swear!"

The giant grabbed her by the lapel of his shirt and gnashed his teeth like a furious mastiff and pulled against his face.

"No one can become a filthy Krampus unless he has first soiled his soul, but you're right, leprechaun, your gaze is that of a coward. Relax, your arrival was providential, and I need you, so I won't eliminate you. Not yet at least..."

"Oh, thank you, mighty and wonderful lord, I will do anything you command me, you'll see, you'll trust me, I'm just a lost sheep and..."

"Now, little monster, you must sleep" he warned him.

"Huh? I beg your pardon? Sleep? I don't mean to be irreverent, but I'm having trouble sleeping at this hour..." he tried to apologize for not understanding, but he knew there was nothing good in those words.

"No problem, I'll gladly help you," the bishop made clear in his own way.

A well-aimed fist in the head was enough to knock the creature out.

"Well, sleeping pills administered, now it's my turn."

Noting that another bed had been set up next to the children, probably for the night vigil of the mother, he lay on his back holding the forehead of the Krampus with one hand and the crosier with the other. A white patina covered his eyeballs: a sign that the journey had begun.

Those present watched in silence without commenting, but confident that the Bishop knew what he was doing. Despite this, however, apprehension and anguish weighed on the hearts of the parents, only partially relieved by hope and prayer.