CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Marytè

Marytè hacks, phlegm rising in the back of her throat. She swallows it back down but it wedges in her throat, so her words come out strangled.

‘In the bucket, Danutè.’

Her youngest daughter is swirling around the plot with two large beetroots sitting atop her head as if the stalks are big floppy rabbit ears. Her shoulders droop and she places them into the bucket. Marytè sighs. She forgets Danutè is just eight winters old. Sometimes it feels as if yesterday she was toddling about and other times it’s as if she is on the cusp of being a Marti, like her sister. How can children grow so quickly and yet so slowly at the same time? If Baltrus were here, he’d have propped beets on top of his thick mane and bounced about with her. Austėja would’ve rolled her eyes, but there’d have been a hint of envy behind them.

How long has it been since Marytè had let go in that way? Or her children? There has been a heaviness upon the cottage since their two men left the family. Heavier still when Stanislaw’s body was discovered and the taxes were raised. If her worries were a solid mass upon her shoulders, Marytè would fail to walk. She’d sink into the earth and disappear. But the worries aren’t a physical, external thing; they sit inside her, squeezing her gut, clenching her lungs, and compressing her muscles. She coughs again but tries to hide it by turning away from the girls and muffling it against her shoulder. She thought the tickle in her throat would’ve settled by now. It usually bothers her in spring when the pollen is high and the winds are fierce. But it’s summer, now.

Marytè stands, collecting a turnip as she does, and dropping it into the bucket. At least her knee has improved in the warmer weather. Apart from a little stiffness in the mornings, it doesn’t seem to bother her much these days. The crops look good. A little rain, but not too much, and plenty of sun. The sky is clear and the air is still. Marytè wants to make the most of this healthy weather. ‘Danutè, will you fetch the bread and honey from the cottage? Let’s eat beneath the Scots pine today.’

They set up an impromptu picnic in the canopy’s shadow and devour honey-drizzled rye bread followed by the juniper berries Austėja collected from the grove. She returned on her own, despite Danutè’s pleas to go with her. Austėja has been very protective of her younger sister in the weeks since the snake bite. Marytè hasn’t wanted her to stray too far either. Even if she kept her emotions intact, when Austėja carried Danutè home she was truly frightened. But she knew it was no use getting caught up in the panic: it would not help Danutè. They were lucky it was a young snake and the fangs had barely pierced her skin. Next time she may not be as lucky.

Senelè returns from her walk around the marsh: determined to keep her ageing body lithe, she has taken to walking each day. Some days she is gone for so long, Marytè worries she has fallen or taken ill, but then, as if she senses her unease, she shuffles into sight, taking careful steps around the wetland.

When Baltrus and Marytè wed, Senelè complained about the site they’d chosen to settle on in Musteika. They were one of four young couples granted to settle in the area after moving from larger settlements in the north. Had they known they would be at the whim of the Duke they’d have remained in the area where Baltrus grew up. They had both given up their hollows to start afresh.

Marytè liked the marshes. She still does. Sure, they’re damp, and biting insects are plentiful, but she enjoys watching the birds and frogs and other creatures leaping around the swampland. She likes that their home is close to the river and the church, but not so close to the church that the priest would be considered a neighbour.

Smilte and Krystupas were the last to arrive and they settled the furthest away. While Smilte enjoyed the company of others, her husband favoured his own. Smilte was pregnant with Tomas when Marytè was due to deliver Azuolas. They bonded over the pregnancies and the little boys that followed. Tomas was a timid child, his father at times overbearing and tough. Smilte quietened whenever her husband was about. It wasn’t quite fear, but a watchfulness. Yes, that’s it: she was always cautious in Krystupas’s presence and so too was Tomas. As more boys came along and Smilte was busy with the children, her confidence grew and the watchfulness became less noticeable. It’s still there. Marytè noticed it when Smilte looked at Krystupas in the church to gauge his knowledge of the Duke’s announcement.

Marytè has always felt grateful that she found a warm and kind man. There are many men who are neither. She hopes the boys take after their mother and not their father, but she has never seen any violent tendencies or any behaviour of concern. They all seem pleasant enough. Austėja will be well looked after.

‘Are you okay, Motina? You sound chesty,’ Austėja says, drawing Marytè’s attention back to the present. She’s been coughing again and forgot to conceal it.

‘I’m fine.’

Senelè joins them on the soft grass, dropping beside Marytè with a congested eruption. It is far worse and sicklier than Marytè’s and it reassures her that her own is of no concern. Senelè’s health, on the other hand, is worrisome.

‘That was so delicious.’ Danutè licks honey residue from her fingers with a grin. ‘Can you imagine living in one of the cities and not having honey every day? Unless you’re wealthy, of course. We are so lucky.’

‘We are, indeed,’ Senelè says.

Marytè’s body feels relaxed as she watches the women in her life enjoying the very foundation of their livelihoods. Honey. Warm bread. Fresh air and sunshine. It is the first time in a very long time that Marytè is contented. We’ll be okay. We can make a life without Baltrus. We all miss him, but we will be okay.

As if reading her thoughts, Austėja speaks. ‘I wish Tévas were here with us right now.’

‘Me too,’ Marytè says.

‘He is,’ Senelè says. ‘Don’t forget he’s just up there on the High Hill.’ She points across the marsh and the girls look at the forest hiding the church and High Hill from sight. ‘He’s always here and I bet he’s enjoying delicious honey-bread too.’

Marytè wants to believe he is here, but she finds it difficult to reconcile the idea of someone being here without being physically present. She thought she would feel his presence, but she feels nothing. No sense of him at all. She supposes he is in heaven, looking down upon them. Yes, that makes more sense.

‘Motina,’ Austėja says hesitantly, ‘why didn’t Tévas tell you that he spoke with the Duke in Alytus? He didn’t tell us about the taxes being raised. We could’ve done something earlier.’

Marytè shakes her head. ‘He didn’t know. He’d have told me. I am sure of it.’

Austėja frowns. ‘But he did know. The Duke told me.’

Marytè shifts to ease pressure off her knee which has spontaneously spasmed. ‘The Duke is dishonest. I spoke to the women and none of their husbands knew. Baltrus knew nothing, Austėja.’

Austėja bites the inside of her cheek and turns to face her squarely. ‘Jonas told me too.’

‘He told you what?’ The tension creeps back into Marytè’s muscles, digging in deep, gripping her gut and making her queasy.

‘Jonas said he and his father met with the former Duke and his nephew that summer. All the men were there. Maybe not all at the same time, but at some point, over the summer. They were told the taxes would be raised the following season, though it was never meant to be as high as half. That was something the new Duke took upon himself. He is ambitious, he told me so – he wants to impress the Duchy.’

‘No,’ Marytè says more to herself than anyone else. ‘No, I don’t believe Baltrus would deceive us.’

‘Certainly not,’ Senelè says.

‘He may not have meant to deceive us, but he kept this news from us. Speak to the Duke and Jonas yourself. I believe what they say.’

‘You believe strangers over your own father?’ Senelè asks.

‘Tévas isn’t here to tell his side,’ Austėja says, her voice on the rise. ‘But I think he kept some things from us.’ She seems on the verge of saying something else; instead she holds back, and stares out at the forest. There is something about her demeanour and the suspicion she holds about her father, the man she has idolised her entire life, that sobers Marytè. She rubs the tendons above her knee as Senelè launches into a coughing fit and then excuses herself, wheezing and whooping back up to the house.

Danutè, losing interest in the conversation, wanders off in the clearing. She’s caught sight of a frog and has crouched down beside the marshes to inspect it.

‘When I spoke to Smilte, she told me none of the men knew about the taxes,’ Marytè says, thinking aloud.

Austėja looks over her shoulder and shifts on the grass to face her mother once more. ‘Motina, Jonas knew. Krystupas knew. The Duke says all the men knew but none of the wives. Why?’

Marytè shakes her head. ‘Perhaps they struck some kind of deal with Stanislaw. I think he was under-reporting the number of hollows that were registered under the statute.’

‘He was trying to … help us?’

‘It’s possible.’ Then it dawns on her. ‘The mead.’

‘Huh?’

‘It was barter.’ Stanislaw would never do anything out of the kindness of his heart.

‘Oh, so that’s what Tévas owed him.’

‘What do you mean?’

Austėja slumps. ‘Never mind.’

Austėja bites her lip and when she releases it a toothy indent remains on her bottom lip. ‘And now Stanislaw is dead. There are only a few people I can think of who would not be happy with the Hollow Watcher’s behaviour.’

Marytè shivers, the sun no longer warming her skin. The chilling realisation seeps in. Her knee throbs and she coughs. Austėja looks at her with concern, but Marytè ignores her, her thoughts drifting over innumerable worst-case scenarios. The tension she felt earlier has gone; in fact her body feels weighted down with a sense of impending doom. An overwhelming force, extracting energy from her body like a blood-sucking mosquito. Baltrus did not protect them. Stanislaw could not protect them. If they do not produce what is expected of them at harvest, there might be dire consequences.

How far would the Duke go to prove himself to the Duchy? If the men of the settlement could not stop these bad things from happening, then can she?

How is she meant to keep her girls safe?