34

Anna was jostled into consciousness when the peasants carrying the litter placed her near a hearth in a large stone and timbered room. With his blue eyes, somehow less opaque now, the leader of the men stared down at her. “You will be safe now, Countess. I leave you to our women.”

Anna made an effort to speak, but her throat had closed.

He put his finger to his lips. “There, no talk. Only rest.”

Anna closed her eyes. She was aware that many had come to see her. She sensed them hovering over her, speaking in low tones. She did not try to understand what they said.

She slept deeply, feeling herself being moved about at some point, but she did not allow herself to come fully awake.

When Anna did awaken, only one other person remained in the huge room. A woman stood a few feet away busily preparing something at the hearth. No sooner had Anna opened her eyes than the woman hurried over to her. She was blond, not yet forty; Anna thought her attractive. She spoke in the same strange dialect as the men. “I am Lucyna.… Does the Countess wish to use the chamber pot?”

Had Anna the strength, she would have laughed at the greeting. As it was, she could only shake her head: her throat, like her forehead, felt as if it were on fire. When Anna raised her hand in a gesture of refusal, she saw that she had been dressed in a peasant nightdress.

Lucyna seemed to read her thoughts. “We women dressed you, Countess.”

Soon other women in colorless, sack-like dresses came into the high-ceilinged room, setting to work around the huge hearth. Their ages varied. They seldom spoke to one another, and when they did it was in a quiet, respectful tone. Anna sensed they occasionally chanced to steal furtive looks at her.

When the meal was prepared, everyone gathered in this room that served both as kitchen and dining hall. Clearly, several families lived and worked together in what seemed to be a very large dwelling. It was a clan, Anna realized, and for all appearances, a rather harmonious one. She had thought clans such as this belonged to some bygone era, but here was proof to the contrary.

“Does Countess wish some soup?”

“Will Countess eat?”

“Some milk, milady?”

Anna was too ill to answer. She put her head to her pillow and fell back into a feverish sleep.

The next thing Anna knew someone was gently shaking her. The clan’s meal had ended. “Open your mouth, child. Open your mouth.”

Anna looked up to see a thin old man whom the others called Owl Eyes. He pinched her cheeks, inducing her to obey. He peered into her mouth. He squeezed her cheeks again. “Open wider, child.”

Anna silently cursed him, wishing he would go away.

He placed a vile smelling herb against her nose, and she immediately sneezed. The paroxysm racked her body. A woman held a cloth over Anna’s mouth and nose, wiping away the matter that escaped. Anna sneezed again and could taste blood in her throat.

The old man made soft-sounding comments as though pleased. “Now, Countess,” he said, “baby tears will better your wind-sore and bleeding throat.”

Anna could not imagine what he meant. She wished only to be left in peace.

His thin but authoritative voice called out to one of the women: “Sylwia, bring your child here.”

When Anna opened her eyes, she was startled to see Owl Eyes holding a naked baby above her. He slapped its rump now and the straining and reddened face was held over Anna. One of the women held Anna’s mouth open.

Anna could taste the warm, brackish tears falling onto her tongue and trickling to the back of her throat. She tried to resist this old folk practice, but the hands holding her head and mouth were strong.

Owl Eyes struck the child until Anna thought the shrill and pitiful cries would drive her mad. Soon, a second child was employed in this same manner.

Afterwards, Anna lay physically and emotionally exhausted, the cries still ringing in her ears. She recognized, though, that the sprinkling of salty tears had given blessed relief to her mouth and throat. She slept again.

A heavy knocking, a persistent metal-against-wood thudding, resounded through the cavernous dwelling.

Anna huddled at her place by the hearth, fearing at once that the safety the clan had afforded was to be taken from her.

A huge stone-faced man stood before her now while the roused peasants clustered behind him in the chilled room. He was Russian.

“I’ve come for you, Countess,” he said in poor Polish.

“Who are you?”

“I’ve been sent by your husband to take you on to Opole.”

“Like the others?”

“Unfortunately, they met up with highwaymen.”

“It was not the highwaymen who poisoned Louis and Babette!”

“You must come, Countess. The Grawlinski family awaits you.”

“No, you mean to kill me.”

“Come along quietly, Countess.”

“I will not go quietly!” Anna pulled herself to her feet and ran to the clan leader. “You mustn’t give me over to this man. He has been hired by my husband to kill me.”

The leader did not appear to understand.

Anna’s desperate eyes scanned the room for the others’ faces. The peasants’ expressions were inscrutable. She ran from one to the next, begging their help.

They stood unmoved and unmoving. They did not understand. Suddenly, Anna thought that perhaps they did understand: perhaps they were merely relishing the sight of a countess, a member of the often-hated nobility, receive her comeuppance. Her heart dropped in despair.

The ugly Russian moved toward her. His massive arms, like a vulture’s wings, swooped down and upon her.

Anna awoke in a sweat. The women were starting to quietly filter in to make breakfast.

Physically, however, Anna felt a little better. She could swallow. And for the first time in a long while, she felt as though she could think.

The despair of the dream did not abate, however. She could not forget that her husband had arranged for her death and was responsible for the deaths of two innocents. Anna recalled his warning: he had said that if she dared stand in his way he would kill her. Or had she put those words in his mouth? Whichever the case, she believed it now.

Antoni was serious enough to do it. He wanted only her property and wealth. He did not want her, and he certainly did not want a child not his own. Her death would be a windfall for him. He could do what he wanted with her inheritance, perhaps even realize his dream of catapulting himself to magnate status.

Who were the dead Poles? she asked herself. She knew that they were not highwaymen. They had asked for her. Someone had sent them to rescue her, but who?

How close was she to Opole—and the Grawlinski estate? The thought that one of the Russians had survived sent a chill playing along her spine. That Antoni would soon find out she had escaped the carriage seemed likely. He would then search for her.

As long as she remained here, her identity must be kept secret. She now wished she had not used even her maiden name.

Her return to Warsaw must be arranged as quickly as possible. Out of fear that Antoni would find out, she dared not write for Zofia or Aunt Stella to send a carriage. She knew, too, that she could make no effective accusation in a letter. Her aunt and cousin would be skeptical.

She would get to Warsaw on her own. But what then? Would she be able to convince her aunt and cousin? The authorities? What real proof would she have if she accused Antoni? Who would believe her? Her heart caught at the thought that she might even arrive to find Antoni there waiting for her.

Perhaps she should go to the Lubicki home. The banking family had always been close to her parents. But would they believe her? Might Antoni have thought of that? He would have prepared a story already.

Neither would going to Sochaczew be wise. At her family home she would be isolated and an easy target.

What about Jan Stelnicki? A message might be sent to the Queen’s Head. But what assurance did she have that he would be in the capital? She could not just wait about on the chance that the letter got to him.

Anna’s head spun. The possibilities had come full circle with each cancellation. No, she would find her own way to Warsaw. But she knew that once she got there, Jan was the only one she could safely seek out. He would know what to do. Her heart warmed at the thought of him.

Anna suddenly felt the baby kick. It was the first time she actually felt the life within. It seemed the best of omens. Her whole body seemed to pulse with warm life. She smiled to herself. I must get well. After eating a breakfast of milk and buttered bread, she slept.

When Anna awoke at mid-morning, she was startled to find that there was only one other person in the hall, a young man of eighteen or nineteen. He sat with a steaming mug, staring at her.

She sat up slowly, warily, the aroma of his chicory reviving her.

He put down his mug, stood, and approached Anna.

“Who are you?” she asked. He was shaven and well dressed. He was no peasant.

Anna’s stomach tightened. She feared that he would start speaking Russian, that he had been sent by Antoni, that her dream was becoming reality.

He smiled, still moving closer.

Finally, he stood before her. “I am sorry if I alarmed you, Countess,” he said.

His speech was Polish—high Polish.

Anna sighed. “Just for a moment.”

“I’m sorry. My name is Antek.”

Anna nodded. “I am Countess Anna Maria Berezowska.”

“Hello, Countess.” He bowed. “May I sit down?”

“Of course.” Anna watched as he fetched a stool. He was a handsome young man: muscular body, brown hair, good features.

“You’ve come from Warsaw?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you going?”

“I only wish to go back to Warsaw now.”

“I see,” Antek said. “I’ve not been to the capital. I imagine life there is very different. I should very much like to see it.”

“I’m sure you will one day. Just how far am I from Warsaw, Antek?”

“Five or six days in this weather, Countess.”

Anna let out a little gasp. They had come farther than she had imagined. Had they been traveling east as she supposed, they would have been into Russia by now. How am I to get back?

“You look stunned, Countess.”

“What? Oh, I’m sorry. Just distracted for the moment. Tell me, Antek, where are you from?”

“Why, this is my home.”

“What?”

“You’ve met the patriarch here, Witek?”

“Yes, though I didn’t know his name.”

“He is my father.”

“Your father?—But surely you are not—” Anna could not find the words.

“Like the others? A peasant, you mean? Ah, but I am.” He smiled boyishly. “You are mystified by my clothes and speech?”

Anna nodded.

“I must explain. My mother died giving birth to me and my brother. Oh, I have a twin: Stefan. Witek was devastated by my mother’s death, and I think intimidated by the prospect of raising two infants. As it happened, Baron Galki, the landlord of this old ruined castle and all the land you can see from its tower, struck up an agreement with Witek. He and the baroness were childless. Stefan and I were given over to them and, in return, the clan is allowed to make their home here and live in freedom.”

Anna had never heard anything quite like it. But the young man seemed beyond deception. “So you don’t live here, then?”

“No, I live at the Galki family manor several miles south.”

“You came to visit Witek?”

“He sent for us, so that we might discuss what to do with you once you are on your feet.”

“I see. Stefan is here, too?”

“He’ll arrive tonight.”

Anna let out a nearly silent sigh. Here was hope on the horizon. “How far are we from Opole?” she asked, attempting a casualness she didn’t feel.

“Opole is the nearest city. It’s under a day’s journey west.”

Anna was relieved. She wished it a hundred days’ away, but one was enough distance between her and Antoni.… For now, she hoped.

“Is there a city or town nearby?” she asked.

“Just south of here is Częstochowa.”

Anna felt her jaw go slack. “Oh, Antek, have you seen it? The Black Madonna?”

“Of course. Many times.”

“They say the painting has miraculous powers.”

“So they say.… Tell me, Countess Berezowska, are you in need of a miracle?”

“What?” Anna smiled. “Perhaps, I am.”

“Don’t worry. Stefan and I will devise a way for you to return to Warsaw. Is that the miracle you need?”

If only that would be miracle enough, Anna thought. “Perhaps,” she said. “It is funny, Antek. You’ve seen the Black Madonna and wish to go to Warsaw. I’ve seen Warsaw and would like to see the Black Madonna.”

They laughed together like old friends. The name Antek, Anna suddenly realized, was the diminutive for Antoni. How strange that it only just now came to her. She had never called her own husband Antek. She doubted that she ever would.

After Antek left, Anna thought about the Black Madonna. More than any fairy tale, more than any of her favorite myths, it had always fascinated her. Originally a Byzantine icon, it found its way to the cloister of the Pauline Fathers in the fourteenth century. During the next century, it was painted over after it was damaged by the Hussites, thus accounting for the darkness of the picture and the two sword cuts on the Lady’s right cheek. In 1655 the site of the cloister provided the turning point in the war against Sweden. Since then Poles looked to the Black Madonna as Queen of the Polish Crown and patron saint of Poland. For the moment Anna forgot about her many difficulties and longed only to see the Dark Lady.

Later, the hall became a hive of activity. Some women prepared sausages. Others cleaned fowl that had been newly caught. Three or four older women sat sewing and talking in the warmth of the hearth. While Lucyna and another woman prepared the noon meal, Owl Eyes stood—at some distance—hunched over a table, cutting leather.

Only one person was watching Anna: an old woman sitting alone working on a piece of leathercraft. Anna had noticed her before. Unlike these other women, she hadn’t shown Anna the slightest deference or courtesy. The many lines of her weathered face seemed to meet in a scowl at her thin lips. Whenever she chose to speak to the others, it was with a quick and slicing tongue.

Anna returned her gaze. Even a smile did not break the ice. In time, the woman looked away. But every so often, Anna could sense the saucer eyes beneath sparse and wiry hair spying in her direction. She was like an old cat, Anna thought, half-frightened and half ready to pounce.

Lunch and supper were substantial meals, and Anna ate what she could. Her health was slowly mending.

In the evening, Stefan arrived.

Anna sat at her place by the hearth. She stared in amazement as Antek introduced him. He was the mirrored reflection of his brother: the same brown, wavy hair, sculpted features, muscular physique.

“One of you must grow a beard immediately,” Anna said. “Otherwise, I shall not be able to tell you apart.”

The twins laughed.

Stefan kissed Anna’s hand. “You don’t see any difference between us?” he asked.

“Let me see,” Anna said, her eyes moving from one to the other. “Of course! Antek, you have a little mole on your cheek. Stefan, where is yours?”

“I was cheated, if you must know,” Stefan said. He draped his arm around Antek. “You see, the girls adore that little mole, don’t they, brother?”

Antek colored in embarrassment.

Anna silently concurred that the mole did give Antek the advantage, but she sensed immediately that Stefan possessed a gregariousness and forward sensuality that probably more than evened the score. Both brothers were striking. They had gotten their height, strength, and masculinity from Witek, she supposed, but it must have been their deceased mother who had willed them her good looks.

“I was sorry to hear of your accident,” Stefan said.

Antek shot a sidelong glance at his brother, a reproach that only Anna noticed.

“A tragic thing,” he continued. “I understand two children died at the site. They were not yours, were they?”

“No, but they were in my care. They were innocent victims.”

“It is all very sad, but it is in the past now,” Antek said, attempting to sideline his brother’s conversation. “The countess is expecting her first child and must only look forward.”

“Of course,” Stefan said. “Forgive me. I trust you are feeling better.”

“I improve a little each day,” Anna said, “though you wouldn’t know it to look at me.”

“Nonsense,” Stefan said. “You are very beautiful. Wouldn’t you say, Antek?”

“Indeed.”

“Thank you.” It was an awkward moment. Anna had not meant to fish for compliments. “Now if you both don’t sit down, I shall get a stiff neck looking up at you.”

The brothers drew up stools. While they did so, Anna noticed for the first time that they were not alone in the hall. A movement in the shadows near the far door drew her eyes to a shrouded figure there. An inner sense told Anna it was the old woman who had seemed to take an instant dislike to her.

Anna ignored the chill her presence inspired and addressed the twins in a serious tone. “What is to be done about the bodies at the carriage site?”

“That has already been seen to,” Antek said. “They have been given burial. You are not to worry.”

“It is at least one worry I can put aside,” Anna said. “Please thank those men responsible.”

“I understand you want to return to Warsaw,” Stefan said.

“Yes, as soon as possible.”

“Is that where your husband is?” Stefan asked.

Husband. Anna felt her face flush hot. “No, he will not be found in the city.”

“Is there someone there who would send a carriage?” Antek asked.

“No.”

“We would take you ourselves, Countess,” Antek said, “but our father will not allow it. He’s afraid the city life would be too appealing to two country boys.”

“Men!” Stefan countered. “We are eighteen.”

“I would gladly pay for the carriage and driver’s service, of course.” Anna was trying to hold back despair. The longer she stayed here, the greater the chance of Antoni’s finding her.

Antek could see her concern. “There is the monastery at Częstochowa, Countess. They have carriages and the abbot does go to Warsaw on occasion.”

Anna’s heart lifted.

“Father Florian, a priest from the monastery, will be here on Sunday next,” Stefan said. “He comes every other Sunday to attend to the clan. He holds Mass in the old chapel.”

“We’ll approach Father Florian with your situation,” Antek explained. “I’m certain he’ll help you get back to Warsaw.”

Thank God, Anna thought.

The old woman came out of the shadows now. Shouting what seemed gibberish to Anna, she seemed to be upbraiding Antek and Stefan. She fired off a question, spit out a retort to their answers, then demanded something else.

The twins answered her respectfully in the low dialect, nervously casting glances at Anna. They were embarrassed.

At last the old woman’s babbling exploded into a barrage of curses leveled at the brothers.

Antek grew angry now. He spoke sharply to the old woman.

She shrank back slightly at his words, the cat’s eyes assessing the situation.

She turned on Anna, pointing an accusing finger and letting fly another spate of unintelligible syllables. Then she wheeled about and fled the room.

Anna stared after her.

“I apologize for Nelka, my lady,” Antek said, turning to Anna. He seemed upset and humiliated.

“Who is she?” Anna asked.

“She is Witek’s mother,” he said, his eyes lowered, “our grandmother.”

“It would seem she doesn’t like me,” Anna said.

“Don’t worry about her, Countess,” Stefan said. “She doesn’t like anyone not of the clan.”

“My brother understates the case,” Antek said. “The fact is, Nelka has difficulty getting along with a good many people in the clan.”

“But what is it that she harbors against me?”

“It is only that you are an outsider,” Stefan said.

Anna was doubtful. “Isn’t it that I am a noblewoman?”

The twins looked shamefaced.

“Yes,” Antek said. “Her one experience at the hands of a noblewoman… well, it’s useless to go into. It led to tragic consequences.”

“And,” Stefan added, “she has never gotten over Witek’s giving us over to Baron Galki.”

“I see. But I am sure I detected some specific animosity toward me.”

The brothers hesitated to speak.

Anna’s questioning eyes persisted.

Antek finally spoke up. “She was listening to our conversation. When Nelka learned that your husband would not be coming to take you home, and that he was not to be found in Warsaw… well, she has quite an imagination.”

“And what does she imagine?” Anna asked.

“She suspects,” Stefan said awkwardly, “that you are not wed at all and that you are running away because of your fatherless baby.”

“Oh.” Anna was stunned. “You can be certain that my husband does exist.” It was strange, she thought, to attest to a marriage she wished did not exist.

Still, Anna could not help but think there was more. “When your grandmother pointed at me, what was she saying then?”

The twins were silent. Stefan’s face was a mask, but Antek wore his heart in his hazel eyes.

“Countess,” Antek said, “I beg you to overlook Nelka’s eccentricities. The clan still holds to many old and groundless superstitions. What she said can only hurt you. It is better to—”

“I want to know,” Anna insisted.

Antek grimaced in defeat. He sighed. “She said that your child was sired by the devil and…”

“Go on.”

“… that such a one as you should be treated as witches once were by the ancients—driven out with lighted candles and a hearth poker.”