Chapter 6 Lukas
6
Lukas
As Stasya stepped closer, there was a buzz from the crowd. He could hear it even with the noise the animal was making. Part of him wished they hadn’t called her in. This would be hard for her, with so many folk watching, including the so-called Commander, who stood unmoving with his feet planted apart and arms folded, looking as if he expected her efforts to be a complete failure. Lukas longed to wipe the smug expression off that man’s face. As for the arrival of all these new men, the carts, the horses, what on earth did that mean? Weren’t there enough of them here already, crammed into the makeshift living quarters, eating their way through stores that should have supplied the village for months ahead, making each day a grinding misery for men, women and children alike?
The horse’s frenzied kicking had damaged the cart it had been drawing; splintered timber added another peril. The Commander wasn’t giving any orders, but another man was: one of the newcomers, with the emblem of a dragon on his tunic. At a nod from this man, two of the guards gestured to the crowd to move further back and to keep quiet. Lukas and his fellow workers had been called down from the forest when the new convoy came in, to help unload things. But this cart had come to grief before they could even start. The trapped man was ghastly pale, struggling to breathe; his position was such that nobody could get close. There would be no freeing him until the horse was out of the traces and off the scene.
Stasya hardly seemed aware of what was around her. She was standing very still, as if gathering herself. She was getting ready to do what she did when someone in the village needed to move a bull with a bad temper, or help a cow or ewe with a difficult delivery, or tend to a dog with an injured foot. The way she could calm a disturbed creature went far beyond the skill of an ordinary farmer. He’d watched her a few times, and it had looked like she’d moved into a place where there was only her and the animal. In this case, the massive, agitated horse. Now, as Stasya moved closer little by little, the horse began to quiet. The screams grew less; the thrashing slowed.
The cart was half-off the road and the horse had twisted in its harness so it was facing almost backward. The sharp ends of the broken timber were dangerously close. The animal was struggling for balance on uneven ground; slip any further and it might break a leg or crash right into the ditch. That man’s life hung by a thread. In the crowd, a woman was sobbing. ‘Hush,’ someone said. That man; the one wearing the dragon.
Stasya edged forward, her eyes always on the horse, until she was close enough to touch. The noise had stopped, but the animal’s laboured breathing showed it was in trouble. Its mouth was open, frothing. Stasya reached up to lay her hand on its neck, as gentle as a mother soothing a child. Lukas wanted to move in, to help her, but if she wanted help she would say so. She knew what she was doing.
Now she was simply standing there, both hands touching the horse’s face. The animal shuddered, then heaved a great sigh. Stasya looked at Kiril then; he’d been the one sent to fetch her, and he’d been waiting close by. With a quick movement of her head, she showed him she needed him nearer. Lukas wasn’t sure if she knew he was there, until she turned to look straight at him and mouthed, ‘Come in on that side.’
Kiril had a knife in his hand. Lukas drew out his own knife, and they both moved in from behind the cart. While Stasya held the horse’s attention, the two of them cut away the tangled harness strap by strap, until the animal was all but freed.
‘Wait,’ Stasya said, keeping her voice soft and calm; she spoke only for her helpers. ‘I need some more time.’ The silence drew out as they stood there still as statues. Someone in the crowd called out, ‘Get on with it!’ and was quickly hushed by his neighbours. More time passed. Lukas could hear the Commander muttering under his breath.
A great shudder ran through the horse’s body, breaking the stillness. In a flash something flew out of the animal’s nostril and away, buzzing. A wasp. The horse whinnied, tossing his head. Stasya stroked his neck, and he quieted again. How had she known the insect was there? By her own magic, Lukas thought. She always knew.
‘We should be able to move him now,’ Stasya said. ‘Kiril, come in slowly and take hold of the halter. Lukas, once he has a good hold, you cut that last strap. Someone be ready to move in quickly and support the cart before he does that. Farmer Vidas, please make sure the gate is open and keep people out of the way. We’ll move this handsome fellow up to your stable and you can do something to ease the swelling. I think he’s all right to walk.’ As Kiril moved cautiously up to the horse’s head, she coaxed the animal onto level ground and Lukas cut the final strap. Vidas motioned folk out of the way, checked the gate, waited in position as the two men guided the horse forward. Stasya led them, walking backwards, holding the animal’s gaze. His gait was unsteady, as if he still felt pain, but he did not resist his keepers. From behind them, Lukas could hear activity. Folk moving in to support the broken cart, to get the injured man out and onto a stretcher of some kind.
‘Wait!’ The voice was the Commander’s. Lukas had good cause to know what could happen if a person did not obey such an order. But Stasya kept moving; her gaze did not falter. He and Kiril and the horse followed as if nobody had spoken. ‘I said wait!’
How long before some of the many armed men close by came after them, clapped them all in the lockup, ruined this remarkable rescue? Did that man not understand that at least two lives had just been saved, thanks to Stasya?
Another man’s voice came now, quiet, authoritative. ‘The Commander asks you to disperse. We don’t need a crowd here. Make sure the injured man gets the attention he needs. Pavel, find some men to see to this cart, will you? Get it off the road, have someone check whether repairs are possible. The horse is no longer a threat.’
They’d paused at the farm gate. Stasya was speaking to Farmer Vidas, who was waiting to take the horse up to his stable.
‘You! Girl!’ It was the Commander again, now striding toward them. Two of his guards followed in his wake. ‘Come here!’
Stasya was pale as chalk and unsteady on her feet. Anyone could have seen that she was exhausted. What she needed after that effort was to sit down in the quiet somewhere, have a drink of water, be given time and space to recover. But these brutes were blind to her needs. One of them seized her arm, and she made a little sound, wincing as if it hurt. How dare they lay hands on her when she’d done exactly what she’d been asked to do?
The second guard grabbed Stasya’s other arm, and she cried out in pain.
‘Let her go! You’re hurting her!’ Lukas lunged forward, thinking to topple at least one of the pair, but the long day’s hard labour, on top of the beatings he’d received any time he spoke out against the new rules, had weakened him. A fist caught him on the jaw, and a moment later he was on the ground. Booted feet all around. More guards. Now they were dragging him away.
‘What are you doing? Where are you taking him?’ Stasya’s voice, shouting. Scared, angry. And he couldn’t do a thing to help her. There was dirt in his eyes, dust in his mouth. Everything hurt.
A different voice spoke. That other man’s, cool and controlled. ‘By your leave, Commander, we should perhaps retreat to a more private place to question this young woman. Are your headquarters nearby? Matiss, we might need your help.’
The dragging stopped. His captors hauled him upright but did not release their grip. Through slitted eyes Lukas saw a very large man approach. One of the newcomers? The fellow went straight to Stasya and spoke to her quietly. Her captors had backed off, but whatever he was saying kept Stasya standing by him. Vidas was leading the horse away; the animal, at least, would be safe. Kiril went with them.
There was something wrong with Lukas’s eyes. Everything was blurry, and his head felt odd. He saw Stasya grab the amber owl, which was hanging against her chest in full view after the rough treatment. She stuffed it back under her clothing. A moment later, the blurring turned to shadows and then to utter dark.