Aferim! Page #4

and Lady Smaranda Vacarescu.

- Lies, Gypsy.

- I swear!

I was looking after the horses...

I even went with him to Paris,

to Leipzig. To Vienna, too...

I've seen the world.

- Did you f*** Lady Smaranda, too?

- No way!

She hardly even looked at us Gypsies,

she only talked with her sly crones...

So, how does lady Sultana go when she fucks?

Does she moan and move?

She moves her big buttocks hard.

She doesn't moan,

for fear someone might hear...

And she whispered in my ear:

"Psihi-mu, I like your cock so!

Stick it deeper!"

And after I let myself go,

she'd whisper:

- "Mashallah, Gypsy!"

- I see...

So how's the world?

Big and beautiful...

Not like here.

He knows his stuff!

So, what's it like in Vienna?

I've never left our county

except for father's work.

I don't know what to say...

Like three of our towns, only with palaces.

- How 'bout Leipzig?

- It's smaller. But prettier than anything here.

- And Paris?

- Big, like ten Viennas...

Cobbled roads,

countless princesses.

- And they don't beat their servants.

- Lies!

It ain't lies!

When lady Manu

married that dumb Russian prince,

she asked as dowry

for a Vienna carriage.

In exchange we, thirty souls of Gypsies,

were given to boyar Filipescu.

The beatings we got there with ox sinews...

Three months ago,

master Filipescu auctioned away

some five hundred Gypsy souls.

Master Candescu bought me from him.

I asked him to buy my family too...

We have no concern

with your life...

We're hardworking...

Make Way!

- What's this?

- Vasilache and Marioara.

I'm a man, not a mouse.

Take this, if you're a man!

'Tis like they's real men.

No, you dimwit, they's dolls,

with people moving them!

Crack the stupid b*tch's head!

Will you be quiet now?

Now she's upset.

Get up, Marioara!

- F*** her!

- Shut up! She's dead!

The priest!

...let's give her a funeral!

What funeral?

You're drunk!

Go to hell with your Marioara!

Look at him beating that priest!

Whosoever buys us,

we will be slaves to his house,

we and our offspring,

just save us from hunger...

Back off, everyone!

Take pity on me, master!

Didn't you say you don't want

to go back to the merchant?

Who will buy me?

I might end up with one

who will beat me to death.

We'll find you a good man.

- We won't give you to just anyone.

- Good, then...

Buy me, honourable lords!

I'm a hardworking, obedient slave!

- Is the small darkie for sale?

- For sale he is.

Take us, master!

We are freed slaves.

- How many of you?

- A clan.

Back off!

- How much?

- Almost nothing. Ten piastres.

Expensive!

For that I can buy two big ones.

This is the price of the market.

I know the worth of a slave...

Let me see your beak, crow.

- Doesn't even have all his teeth.

- Bey-mu, they'll grow. He's a child.

- Thin as a rake, too.

- No, he has iron bones.

He's sturdy stock.

- Come to the scalesmaster.

- What for?

To see how much he weighs.

- Where is he?

- There.

Where are you taking me, master?

Buy us, bright lords!

- Three stone and a half.

- See, he's in excellent condition.

I want to give him to our holy church.

- Drop it three piastres.

- No more than one.

Do you have papers?

Or is he stolen?

No one will find him.

I'm a lawkeeper.

Without papers, four piastres.

What is he, a chicken?

He's a slave!

Let's see who will give you more.

At least five.

- Deal.

- Don't give me away, master!

They're not forged, are they?

- How much for the one on the horse?

- Two piastres.

He's not for sale.

A pity, he was a good one.

Come on, crow!

Good luck, Tintiric!

What are you meddling for?

Father! Come on up!

No, it's not for me.

Come on!

- Is that good?

- Yes!

Amazing!

Money wasted...

What can I do, Carfin?

You made your own bed.

Have pity, constable, set me free!

Ionita!

I can't deceive the boyar...

But I'll tell him

how that b*tch jumped you...

He will lock her up in some convent.

So what?

He'll still kill me.

Enough whining,

he won't kill you.

I'll ask him to just beat you a little.

He'll kill me, master!

- Will you buy me some sweets?

- No money for that.

Come on, crow!

How much to sleep here?

Twenty for a man,

five for a horse.

Bring us ham

and some cheap wine.

A starving dog

dreams of nothing but bones.

- Lica ate, drank, and didn't pay.

- Nevermind.

What did that crow do?

Ran away from a boyar.

If he was my crow,

I'd have blinded him

and cut off his legs.

Go to hell!

Dig in.

The rich look in the mirror,

the poor - in their plate.

Damn good.

You're badly ill, father.

I have this nixis in my chest.

My teeth rattle,

the shovel is waiting...

How about the doctors in Bucharest?

It's your turn to live, Ionita...

Feels like yesterday I was serving

under bailiff Vladimirescu.

What a life, f***...

Sigh louder, crow!

I was storming women away

during the uprising.

We would enter a village,

kill their cattle and party wildly...

- When was that?

- Around 1821. You were a babe.

You know what our song was?

Seven vales and seven hills,

F*** the boyars to the gills.

Soon I'll catch you by the mane,

Mash you bloody with my cane...

We were feared,

we killed them like pigs.

We were as wild as leopards.

I was a mercenary...

I had a c*nt in every village.

Don't tell your mother!

- Sure.

- You're a big boy now.

You know how crazy she gets.

My life's all done...

All our lives flow like a stream,

It all passes like a dream.

Eat some!

The good stuff passed like the wind.

- Want a drop of wine?

- Sure!

While drunk, don't give gifts,

nor do harm.

If you do want to give,

then give while sober.

Hey, innkeeper!

Bring us a whore.

Right away.

Zambila, get over here!

I don't want no Gypsy.

I want a clean woman!

Clean she is, man.

Take my son

and do what you know best.

I will.

Innkeeper! I want this pretty one!

Oi, that's my wife.

Let go!

- You got the French disease?

- Of course not.

- What's your name?

- Zambila.

- How much for you?

- Fifteen.

That's a lot.

Come with me!

Don't embarrass me, lad.

He's not a bad boy,

but he's girlish,

his mother's too soft with him.

He's not very respectful...

He's a good lad.

That's how I'd like

my children to be.

- You got children, Carfin?

- No.

Maybe next year,

if my wife doesn't die.

You came here from England

to teach us your f***in' ethics?

What's that idiot say?

You, go away!

Dumb outlanders!

- How's 'bout playing an otuzbir with us?

- No.

- Then five dime for one?

- I don't have money.

- Then spit on us and let us be.

- Spit on you?!

I could trim you

with this sword.

It's a saying from Targoviste, you know?

Small town, great poverty!

True, constable.

They say two youngsters

went to get married.

But the priest read them

the last rites instead.

Then the baptism rites.

When he was supposed

to blow over them,

the youngsters,

disgusted with his stupidity, said:

"After such a mess,

better spit on us and let us be."

Stupid priest!

Spit on us and let us be.

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