Master Thapeus, or Smugglers, Lions and Tapirs

„Pan Tapeusz, czyli przemytnicy, lwy i tapiry”
by Piotr Fryczkowski





A fantasy tale full of humour and amusing ideas, with a smart message and absorbing plot. It tells of the power of magic, of wandering along misty swamps, a gang of smugglers, a guinea pig hooked on food, a brawny sister, an officious father who is a general, and love worthy of Romeo and Juliet, even though it is all about… a tapir and a lioness from two feuded nations. The story will leave the young reader amused, interested and touched. Adults will discover it to be charming literary fun, sparkling with nonsensical jokes, paradoxes, and plays on words and conventions.

Polish rights sold. Published by Cursor, Warsaw, 2009.



“Don’t think about her,” said aunt, and stroked his head. “Lions are boring. They aren’t fond of water, loneliness and vegetables. And lionesses! All they do is preen themselves in trinkets and gold - you wouldn’t be able to earn enough for such stuff in your entire life. Now go and play water polo with your friends, it will help you get over it.”
Tapczy lived in the luxurious Fume district, full of fumes and marshes, in which were hidden both marvelous residences and old burrows, once beautiful but now gloomy and covered with roofing paper. Violet Street, where he dwelled, was tidy and well-kept. The tapir elite - the celebrities and the distinguished ones - lived there, together with the less-known but very rich ones.
Tapczy loved nothing more than to bury himself in the milk-thick fog. To be, and simultaneously not to be, to walk forward with the wind-blown trumpet to meet surprises…
At the age of fourteen he discovered that love could be easy, difficult, and… impossible.
“Love comes down on you like a passing bird’s poo on your new suit,” he explained to himself. “It will pass after some time. Yes, it will pass.” He nodded his head and went to the pitch, half-immersing himself in the warm water.
Tapirs adore water polo, and so in almost every district the government had built some pitches, half-filled with warm water. Tapczy casually scored a few goals, but it didn’t make the feeling go away at all. He went back home, washed himself and threw himself on the bed. And this thing, this stupid feeling threw itself along with him. So he stood up and came to the window, but nothing enchanted him there either. This thing walked and walked along with him and never wanted to go away.
“I’ll go mad from this,” he moaned and went to the river.
The banks of the Tapena River were the stamping ground of couples in love, and also of pickpockets, who took advantage of the inattention of the lovers. In the thick fumes and fogs, the restaurants and bars seduced everyone with their colourful neon signs. Music, humming quietly, recalled the murmur of the streams, the breath of the wind and the warbling of birds. This music didn’t pour into your ear, it was already there, nesting like a bird, and stayed there forever. It wasn’t necessary to remember it, nor to know who had composed it, but just to immerse yourself in it like in the depth of a lake. Tapczy was fond of all those sounds and sighs, he enjoyed this place where nobody was surprised by anything and nobody asked for anything. He drew the riverside thicket apart and cast a glance at the other bank. Plants were growing there too, but rather sparsely, and there was no fog. He saw the sun reflecting in the domes of the houses of Lwiów – the capital of Lionsland.
Suddenly he felt somebody’s eyes on him. And when he looked at the other bank he saw her, in an immaculately white dress, fragile and golden like an intricate necklace.
As when the wind stands still, not moving even the most fragile leaf, time slowed down for them. They both froze. They were not prepared for meeting each other. They had thought this would never happen. They were looking at each other and wishing they weren’t just looking. Dusk was approaching quickly. Stars, like luminous breadrolls, poured out into the sky. Tapczy couldn’t see her any more, just felt her standing on the other side and waiting, just like him. If someone had asked what were they waiting for, they wouldn’t have been able to answer.

Fragment of „Pan Tapeusz, czyli przemytnicy, lwy i tapiry” translated by Jacek Wojciechowski