especially from suspect foreign blood. They used as a warning to naysayers the plight of coastal towns like Durrës and Lezhë, where the noble race of the Arberësh had been obliged to mix with all kinds of newcomers. Their prime example was Maria Matrenga, a woman famed for her beauty, who had married a man from another county, and as a result of the distance, the different climate and different customs of her husband’s abode, had wilted and finally faded away.
Those who favoured distant marriages made the opposite claim. They invoked the ancient kanun , the customary law that prohibited marriage within the four-hundredth degree of relatedness, and scared folk by hinting at the results of inbreeding. To counter the sad story of Maria Matrenga, they reminded people of Palok the Idiot, a seventeen-year-old retard whose parents were close cousins, and who could be seen wandering around the village at all hours.
The two camps fought it out for a long time. At times it seemed that the celestial tale of Maria Matrenga, sprinkled with gold dust like an icon, was in the ascendant, especially at twilight and at the change of seasons; but along came damp and smelly days, when the spittle and stutter of the poor cretin struck fear into people’s hearts.
The distant marriage faction had begun to gain ground, but although those who feared inbreeding wereeasily dissuaded from local marriages, they were equally pained by the prospect of separation. In the beginning, then, the distances were kept small, and marriages two, four, even seven mountains away were countenanced. But then came the striking separation with Doruntine, divided from her family by half a continent.
Now, as the throng following along behind the procession of invited guests headed slowly towards the church, people talked, whispered, recalled the circumstances of Doruntine’s marriage, the reluctance of her mother and the brothers who opposed the union, Kostandin’s insistence that the marriage take place and his besa to his mother that he would always bring Doruntine back to her. As for Doruntine herself, no one knew whether she had freely consented to the marriage. More beautiful than ever, on horseback among her brothers and relatives – who were also mounted – misty with tears, as custom requires of every young bride, she was a wraith already belonging more to the horizon than to them.
All this now came to mind as the procession followed the same path the throng of guests had taken then. And just as crystal shines the more brightly on a cloth of black velvet, so the memory of Doruntine’s marriage against the background of grief now gained in brilliance in the minds of all those present. Henceforth it would be difficult for people to think of the one without the other, especially since everyone felt that Doruntine looked as beautiful in her coffin as she had done astride the horse caparisoned for the wedding. Beautiful, but to what end? they murmured. No one had partaken of her beauty. Now the earth alone would enjoy it.
Others, in voices even more muted, spoke of her mysterious return, repeating what people had told them or denying it.
“It seems,” someone said, “that Stres is trying to solve the mystery. The prince himself has ordered him to get to the root of it.”
“Believe me,” a companion interrupted, “there’s no mystery about it. She returned to close the circle of death, that’s all.”
“Yes, but how did she come back?”
“Ah, that we shall never know. It seems that one of her brothers rose from the grave by night to go and fetch her. That’s what I heard, it’s really astounding. But some people claim that – I know, I know, but don’t say it, it’s a sin to say such things, especially on the day of her burial. We should rather pray for the poor girl, let the earth not weigh on her too heavily!”
Talk turned once again to the wedding of three years ago, and many felt that the funeral was only its extension, or, more
Those who favoured distant marriages made the opposite claim. They invoked the ancient kanun , the customary law that prohibited marriage within the four-hundredth degree of relatedness, and scared folk by hinting at the results of inbreeding. To counter the sad story of Maria Matrenga, they reminded people of Palok the Idiot, a seventeen-year-old retard whose parents were close cousins, and who could be seen wandering around the village at all hours.
The two camps fought it out for a long time. At times it seemed that the celestial tale of Maria Matrenga, sprinkled with gold dust like an icon, was in the ascendant, especially at twilight and at the change of seasons; but along came damp and smelly days, when the spittle and stutter of the poor cretin struck fear into people’s hearts.
The distant marriage faction had begun to gain ground, but although those who feared inbreeding wereeasily dissuaded from local marriages, they were equally pained by the prospect of separation. In the beginning, then, the distances were kept small, and marriages two, four, even seven mountains away were countenanced. But then came the striking separation with Doruntine, divided from her family by half a continent.
Now, as the throng following along behind the procession of invited guests headed slowly towards the church, people talked, whispered, recalled the circumstances of Doruntine’s marriage, the reluctance of her mother and the brothers who opposed the union, Kostandin’s insistence that the marriage take place and his besa to his mother that he would always bring Doruntine back to her. As for Doruntine herself, no one knew whether she had freely consented to the marriage. More beautiful than ever, on horseback among her brothers and relatives – who were also mounted – misty with tears, as custom requires of every young bride, she was a wraith already belonging more to the horizon than to them.
All this now came to mind as the procession followed the same path the throng of guests had taken then. And just as crystal shines the more brightly on a cloth of black velvet, so the memory of Doruntine’s marriage against the background of grief now gained in brilliance in the minds of all those present. Henceforth it would be difficult for people to think of the one without the other, especially since everyone felt that Doruntine looked as beautiful in her coffin as she had done astride the horse caparisoned for the wedding. Beautiful, but to what end? they murmured. No one had partaken of her beauty. Now the earth alone would enjoy it.
Others, in voices even more muted, spoke of her mysterious return, repeating what people had told them or denying it.
“It seems,” someone said, “that Stres is trying to solve the mystery. The prince himself has ordered him to get to the root of it.”
“Believe me,” a companion interrupted, “there’s no mystery about it. She returned to close the circle of death, that’s all.”
“Yes, but how did she come back?”
“Ah, that we shall never know. It seems that one of her brothers rose from the grave by night to go and fetch her. That’s what I heard, it’s really astounding. But some people claim that – I know, I know, but don’t say it, it’s a sin to say such things, especially on the day of her burial. We should rather pray for the poor girl, let the earth not weigh on her too heavily!”
Talk turned once again to the wedding of three years ago, and many felt that the funeral was only its extension, or, more
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