Chapter 5 Stasya
5
Stasya
A shadow had fallen over Heartwood settlement. Strong women were pale and drawn. Young women looked old beyond their years. The oldest folk cooked, cleaned, tended to infants and vegetable gardens so their daughters and granddaughters could keep farm, workshop or smithy running. Women shod horses, ground wheat into flour and killed stock for meat – tasks which, in ordinary times, would either be performed by the men of the settlement or at least shared by them. And all the time there was the knowledge of what those men were suffering. On the hillside above the settlement there was stark evidence of the vile, backbreaking work they were doing.
Some returned home at night fit only to collapse into exhausted sleep. Some paced, muttering words of rage and despair. Some could not find a kind word for wife or children. Some woke at night, weeping or shouting. Many bore bruises. Some did not come home.
A place had been established, high-fenced and heavily guarded, where those who had defied their captors, shown disrespect, refused to work or challenged their orders were placed. Some were there only a day or so, emerging white-faced and silent. Some, like Farmer Jurgis, had been confined there for many days. Rasma had approached the guard at the entry, and with her clenched fists hidden in her apron pockets asked with careful courtesy when her husband might be released. The man replied that it was for the Commander to say. Anyone who continually spoke up against the authorities and stirred others to dissent could expect a long stay in the lockup. Rasma wanted to punch the fellow in the face. But she held back. With three girls at home, the eldest of whom had already attracted unwanted attention from some of the Commander’s men, and the work to be done without her husband or her son, she could not afford to get into trouble.
Stasya heard this story from Irina. Of Lukas, she saw almost nothing. She glimpsed him occasionally when a working party headed up to the forest edge in the morning, implements of destruction in hand, or returned, shoulders bowed and eyes on the ground, at the end of the long working day; that was all. Once or twice, when she was free in the late afternoon, she went to sit in their favourite spot overlooking the grazing field. Perilous, perhaps; if one of them happened to see her apparently doing nothing, she might be punished for idleness. But she needed those precious moments of peace. To remember good times, and try to believe they would return. To hope that her friend would survive this ordeal and not be too much changed by it. Now nobody was bringing the goats here for their time of sweet grass and sunshine. And the herd was dwindling. The demand for meat was high with so many men in the settlement, and she’d heard that even the milk goats might be under threat. It seemed these people didn’t know much about farming.
There came a day when, by some quirk of fate, Irina didn’t need her and nobody else had asked her to work. Someone would probably want her later. But she would not wait to find out. It was barely light, and all was quiet save for the voices of birds in their dawn conversation. Awake! they called. Yes, yes! The sun!
Stasya had been longing for such a day. She packed a small bag with some provisions, thinking how lucky she was to have bread. How long before Irina ran out of flour? How long before someone had to take a cart over to Vita’s Hope and trade some goods for what was needed? What would happen when there was nothing left to trade?
A walk? Flip had been eyeing the preparations from her spot on the bed. Toad Rock? The image the little dog shared with Stasya was unmistakable: the two of them atop the outcrop, looking out over Heartwood Forest. The view from that place gave joy to the heart. Getting there was more of a climb than a walk. The paths were a haul and a scramble, more suited to wild creatures than men and women. But she and Flip had done it many times before, often with Lukas. It was too long since they’d been into the forest. Stasya felt a weariness in her bones that went far beyond the aftermath of hard labour. This would lift her fading spirits. And Flip would love it. Yes, that’s where we’ll go. Ready?
Flip responded by leaping off the bed and scampering to the door, where she stood waiting. She might have been any ordinary dog eager for an outing.
Shimmering birches fringed Heartwood settlement, with here and there a stately oak. Beyond this the great forest was mostly pine and larch. Juniper clung hard on the steeper ground, finding a purchase between rocks, seeking the sunlight of more open places. Moss and lichen crept over the great stones and formed delicate carpets near the small waterways that threaded the forest. Ferns and grasses grew in abundance.
The day brightened. The air warmed, though under the taller pines it was shadowy. As Stasya climbed, many voices came to her. Frogs were busily announcing their presence to prospective mates. Birds exchanged calls high above. And there were the voices in her mind: not cries for help, but the thoughts of a wolf on the hunt, senses attuned to every smell, every small sound; a marten scaling a pine, confident on sharp claws; a hedgehog nosing out delicious beetles part-hidden under a decaying log. The forest was a place of wonders, great and small. Sorrow and death, too. A wolf or a marten did not eat without first killing. Even the hedgehog crunched the life from its wriggling prey. As with Lukas and the goats. A cycle. That did not make it easier to kill, even in mercy. It did not lessen the terror of a creature facing death. Stasya knew that feeling well; had shared it often. She wondered what she would do if that creature was a human being dying in agony, desperate for the end to come. Would she find the courage to wield the knife? Would it feel the same, when she lacked the ability to share her thoughts with her own kind? Perhaps she would not even find the right words to say.
They stayed awhile on Toad Rock, enjoying the food and the sunshine, gazing out over the folds and rises of Heartwood with its many shades of green. If there were unwelcome sounds, the shouts and axe blows and sawing that meant the men were back at work, they did not reach Stasya here. She practised the breathing Grandmother had taught her as a child, whispering her way through the old verse, line by line. In her mind, she thanked Grandmother for her wisdom and kindness, and for teaching her the art of storytelling and the lore of the forest. Might Grandmother still be watching over her in some form? A spirit? Maybe a bird? If you’re there, she thought, please share some wisdom with me now. What can I do? How can I save Heartwood? Or was the vision true? Will the forest fall, and will these cruel people win?
She closed her eyes for a while; opened her mind to answers. But there was nothing.
Flip nosed her arm; made a little sound.
‘Mmm, we should go back.’ Stasya rose to her feet; slung the bag over her shoulder. ‘I hate being helpless, Flip. I wish I could make that man see sense.’
—
She heard the knocking before her cottage came in sight. Sharp, insistent. And a man’s voice. ‘Are you there? Open up! You’re needed!’
That sounded like Kiril, Vidas’s farmhand. She’d heard he was one of the few men spared from the Commander’s control, perhaps because he walked with a limp. Not that it slowed him down much.
‘Coming!’ Stasya called back. The feeling of wellbeing was already fading. After the freedom of the forest, she had no wish to go and help on the farm. At least, in the bakery, she could be behind closed doors and with folk she trusted. In the open, the Commander’s men were everywhere, and they didn’t need much of an excuse to strike a person or drag them away to the lockup. That filled Stasya with horror. She’d seen how that place could turn a man into a walking ghost.
Kiril looked upset. And she was starting to feel it, in her spirit, in her bones: an animal in utter panic, at its wits’ end, driven mad by pain. Now she could hear something too, faintly. Was that a horse screaming? ‘What’s happened, Kiril?’ She opened the door, let Flip inside, set down her bag.
‘There’s a lot more men down in the settlement. Horses and carts, same as before. Came in not long ago. Men-at-arms, like the others. Some folk from Sweetwater too, brought here to work, I think. But … there’s a cart horse, one of theirs, a big strong fellow, and he’s gone crazy. Still in harness, with the cart half in the ditch, and there’s a man trapped underneath. Nobody can get close.’
Stasya was glancing around while he spoke, wondering what might be useful to take. A sharp knife, yes. No time to make up a calming herbal mix. That could come after she freed the horse. ‘Where is this? On the farm?’
‘On the road. Blocking the way, near Vidas’s main gate.’
That was close to where the Commander’s men were lodged – they’d taken over Vidas’s barn. There’d be people everywhere, an army of onlookers. The thought made her heart shrink. But that horse needed her. He was calling her. ‘Ready,’ she said. ‘Flip, stay.’
As they headed along the forest edge, then down the track, Kiril glanced at her, frowning. ‘Might not be safe. Not even for you. Never seen a horse in such a state.’
‘What set him off? Is he injured?’ The closer they came, the louder the screams, and the stronger the silent message beneath. Stop! It hurts!
‘Don’t know. The fellow that was driving the cart, he was talking about putting an arrow in the creature before he kills someone. Be a shame. Fine horse. Besides, if he collapses, the man who’s underneath could be crushed.’
Every instinct told Stasya to run, run like the wind before someone made a stupid decision and a life was lost for nothing. But if the Commander’s men were down there and she came sprinting onto the scene, they might decide to turn that arrow in her direction. Besides, Kiril couldn’t run.
‘Go on ahead if you want,’ he said, as if reading her mind.
‘Best if I go with you.’ She took a breath. ‘You could help me, Kiril. If you will. Once I’ve got him calm, someone may need to cut whatever part of the harness he’s caught by. And keep folk away while we walk him to safety. I know you’re good with the horses.’
He was silent for a while. Then he said, ‘If I can. And Lukas could help.’
‘Lukas is there?’ Stasya’s heart lifted. ‘I thought he was up the hill, with the …’ She couldn’t make herself say it.
‘Think they were called back down. When these other folk came in.’
The horse’s screams were piercing now; Stasya felt them right through her body. Her head was full of a stabbing pain. It was hard to keep walking. She doubted the creature would pick up her thoughts when it was in such a state of distress, but she tried anyway. I’m coming. Stay strong, beautiful one. I will help you. And did not share what was foremost in her mind: I only hope I can.