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When Narziss opened his eyes again, he saw the seventeen-year-old Goldmund—youthful and green, his golden hair bright as sunlight, a faint flush on his cheek.
A daze came over him, and a sharpness stung his eyes unbidden.
“Narziss, what’s wrong?”
Narziss was about to speak when Abt Daniel walked into the classroom. He looked at the two boys and smiled a kind smile. “Narziss, do not be so hard on the new boy. It is time for lunch; let him go.”
“Very well.” Narziss nodded, still lost in his thoughts.
“Narziss, what is it? I have never seen your eyes red-rimmed before. Is something troubling you?”
Narziss shook his head. “I simply do not understand. I seem to grasp it, yet not fully. Perhaps it is that Dum ille errat, vita mea currit.” He shook his head, bowed to Abt Daniel, and left.
On the way to the refectory, Goldmund could not fathom how he had returned to his seventeenth year. His body brimmed with a long-forgotten strength, and he ate in a daze, not even stirring when his classmates jeered at him.
It was just like the day they had fought, a brawl only stopped by the priest—and he had been taken to Abt Daniel afterward.
Abt Daniel had not scolded him harshly, only asked his questions with the same kind smile he gave everyone.
“Goldmund, go to Brother Narziss this evening. I think you owe him an explanation; after all, this fight started because of him.”
“Yes, Father Abbot.” Goldmund agreed, his heart a flutter of fear and excitement. He longed to see his dearest friend again.
As dusk fell, he finished his supper and hurried to Narziss’s room. The corridor was lined with flowers and grass, their green leaves and pale yellow stamens just as they had always been.
Narziss was already sitting at his desk, his face giving nothing away. “Goldmund, Abt Daniel sent you, I presume. You have some explaining to do.”
“Brother Narziss, I—I am sorry. I should not have fallen asleep in your class and fought with the others.”
“That is not what I mean. I wonder what you thought of as you died.”
Goldmund’s head shot up. Died?
“But how do you plan to die, Narziss? Have you no mother? A man cannot love without a mother, nor can he die without one. Is that not true?” Narziss said.
Silence hung between them. Then Narziss spoke again: “Goldmund, we were not yet friends then.”
Goldmund froze, still stunned. Before he could move, Narziss stood up and kissed his lips. Goldmund pushed him back into his chair and unfastened his robes.
He straddled Narziss, his chin tilted high, humming as if chanting a hymn.
“Narziss, did you find anything after I died? Not the young men and women you spoke of, not the sun or moon of the desert, not you and I. Did you find my mother?”
A faint flush tinged his cheeks, like the slow-falling sun and the rising glow outside the window. Narziss pressed the back of his hand to Goldmund’s face, his other fingers brushing through his golden curls. He spoke in the calm, steady voice he used in the lecture hall:
“I did. First, I went to see your father, Goldmund. After he sent you to the abbey, he set out to find your mother. He journeyed to the busiest deserts and the most desolate cities, yet he never found her.”
“When I met him, his hair was white as snow, aged a thousand times over, ten thousand times over. We talked for a long time—so long that the leaves fell from the tree outside his house, baring the mottled branches beneath. He said he had gone to all the places a dancer might wander: the prosperous yet decaying quarters, the proper yet wanton haunts of noble ladies. He searched for more than a decade, and as I said, he found nothing. Only I found him.”
“After that, I walked the same path he had taken to find your mother, retracing every step he had made. There, I prayed for the rich, blessed the poor, and listened to the confessions of sinners.”
“Nearly twenty years passed, and your father came to find me. He was radiant, his eyes kind as he looked at me, and asked if I had found you. I said ‘no,’ and he laughed, his white beard like the branches of a birch tree, fluttering in the wind.”
“His deep voice said to me: ‘You have found him, my boy. If you look hard enough, it is my son—Goldmund. Have you not been walking the path he once walked all along? You prayed for the families of those who died of the plague, for the rich who once laid eyes on him, and you listened to the confessions of those who wished him harm. You even met the Virgin Mary, do you remember? You have found him.’ When your father said those words, I fell into thought. Had I truly been following in your footsteps all this time? Had I met everyone you had ever met?”
“At last, I forced my ailing body to stand and asked your father: ‘Then have you found Goldmund’s mother?’ He admitted it at once, without hesitation. You are just like your father, Goldmund. He told me that after I left, he saw your mother. She wore a long black dress, her curly golden hair falling down her back, and her eyes—bright, kind, and gentle—as she looked at him. As your father spoke those words, I saw you standing before me. I was back in my lecture hall, and you stood there, shy and guilty, and in that moment, I wept as you see me weep now.”
“I understand now—Jesus’s beloved was his mother, your father’s beloved was your mother. Clear-headed yet unbridled in love. We come from our mothers, and we return to them. The one I have been searching for all these years was my mother, and it was you. You loved me with such passion, yet I could only whisper a feeble ‘I love you’ as you lay dying in your bed. After you said ‘I have always loved you too,’ I could only watch helplessly as your hand slipped from mine, like cold waterfall water flowing through my fingers.”
“I only now understand how that felt—it was tears. I have shed tears only four times in my life. The first was when I was born, and my mother patted my bottom; those tears gave me life.”
“The second was when my godfather baptized me, my cries echoing through the whole church, my tears mixing with the holy water. My family rejoiced, birds sang outside like a hymn, and the wind rustled the trees, making them dance in your eyes.”
“The third was when you died. That was when I truly understood what it means to be human. The Lord created man and bestowed upon him seven emotions and six desires. Some learn this early and leave early, to be with the Lord, their lives twisted and full of earthly pleasures—that is you. Others only learn it when they die, only understand what love is then—that is me. When you died, I knew love for the first time. That is why I was able to die nearly forty years later. The journey I took after your death was a gift from those tears; it was my second birth. When your father came, when I saw you standing there, shy and reserved, I knew this would be my third birth.”
“The Lord has given us the right to live and the right to love. You used these to drown yourself in joy and repay it all with pain. I used them to record every step of your journey. Only then did I know that life and death are one, that clarity and decadence are one. Your mother is you, and your father is me. And now, I shed my fourth tears. Two of my births have been because of you. I think, in these two lives, I have found your mother, and I have found you—just as I hold you in my arms now.” Narziss’s hands left Goldmund’s face and hair, wrapping tightly around his waist instead. Outside the window, the world was black, and his slender, dark hands clung fast, afraid he might slip away like sand in the next moment.
“Goldmund, I have no more words to say. This is all I have to tell you.” When Narziss finished, his face was streaked with tears, yet he wore his usual calm expression.
His tears fell, soaking Goldmund’s robes, and Goldmund’s sweat trickled down his neck into the same fabric.
Goldmund was held fast in Narziss’s embrace, and he too wept, his tears the brightest spark in the dark room.
Narziss kissed away the mixture of tears and sweat on his face. “I love you with all my heart. Your lonely soul is perfect in mine, a comfort to me. I no longer long for young men and women, nor for the sweet water of the desert, nor the flowering trees of the wasteland.”
“I want to be with you always.” Narziss buried his face in Goldmund’s shoulder and spoke his final words.
“I am so tired.” Goldmund spoke slowly in the darkness. His lips had not fallen for a single moment during their hours of confessions, yet now he could not hold back his sobs.
He wept again, like a dry waterfall in the drought, shedding tears of pity. “I cannot find the words. I do not know what to say, Narziss. Those twenty years of yours were so full of suffering, and I did not know where I was—hell or heaven, I suppose. I could not even brush a speck of dust from your face. I died with you by my side, but you died without me saying a single word to you.”
“Then sleep.” Narziss kissed his eyes gently, rocking him slowly, softly, in his arms.