CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Austėja

As the sun descends into the canopies, there’s a different kind of buzz in the air. It is the final night of harvest festival. The big one, when everyone gathers, exhausted and relieved, ready to celebrate another successful collection.

And it does feel like success. The new Hollow Watcher and his helper retrieved our tax barrel and half our wax without any complications; the priest took his ten per cent also. The wax will be sent off to the ovens in Kaunas or Vilnius. My hard work to be exported across Europe, wax turned into candles and whatever else rich people need. I waited with bated breath as they inspected the two barrels, but they nodded with satisfaction and went on their way.

We had concealed Motina behind the house. Senelè thought it best to keep her away from the Hollow Watcher. She’d been sweating, shaking and throwing up – nothing but water, as she’d refused to eat breakfast.

‘There’s no need to worry,’ Senelè said as she shuffled my mother out the door. ‘It will pass quickly.’

I don’t know what is in Smilte’s mead, but it turned my mother into someone unrecognisable. No more of that! I was firm and, to my surprise, as Motina sobered she agreed.

I scan the skyline from the doorframe, and Margusz approaches. ‘Austėja.’ He dips his head as if bowing to me. ‘I want to thank you for your contribution to the church.’

‘You’re welcome,’ I say. Relief sweeps through me like an autumn breeze. We did it. We survived our first harvest.

‘May I come in for a moment?’ he asks.

I hesitate, glancing back over my shoulder. Danutè’s eyes widen, and she rushes to Motina’s bedside, pulling the blanket up to her chin as if it will screen the priest from her sins.

‘I will continue to pray for your mother, for her to heal,’ Margusz says. He stands beside me, watching her. ‘To heal in both body and mind.’

I’m not surprised he can see her suffering. It is his job, after all. To read people and guide them, keep them on a righteous path.

‘I will call on her in the coming days.’

‘Thank you, Margusz.’ I am relieved she will have someone to talk with; she misses Tévas so dearly.

Deep in thought, watching the crackle of the hearth, he speaks in a faint voice. ‘Does that flame ever go out?’

I swallow. ‘Yes,’ I say and for once it is not a lie. ‘Senelè just rekindled it this morning. A tradition for harvest,’ I add.

His eyebrows draw in. ‘Even on the warmest of days, like this one?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Even so.’

He dips his head, looks at Motina one last time and then strides out of the house.

⚜

‘Austėja, will we be okay tonight?’ Danutè asks.

I lean into her. ‘Yes. Just don’t mention to anyone about what happened with Motina, or how Jonas helped us pay our taxes, okay?’ I confided in Senelè and Danutè about Jonas’s generosity.

‘I won’t.’

‘Good: now let’s take the food up to the church.’

She grins. ‘I can’t wait to eat all that food.’

I laugh. ‘Me too. Come on, we must take it now. Senelè and Motina will meet us there.’ Whatever was in Senelè’s herbal concoction added a little colour to Motina’s cheeks as the day wore on.

Danutè and I carry three dishes, which each family is required to bring. Twelve dishes to share for dinner. No meat, eggs or dairy products. It is the time we ‘fast’ from meat and give thanks for a good harvest and welcome in the next season. We eat rye, fish, grains, field mushrooms and berries. And honey, of course. The best of summer and autumn wrapped up in supper.

Danutè carries the boletus mushroom soup, and I have Senelè’s buckwheat cake, rye bread and tasters of our honey in separate pots to gift our neighbours. For without the trees and flowering plants throughout the forest our bees would not have thrived. It is tradition to swap and share honey at the festival.

There is a lightness and liveliness in the church clearing this evening. Cheery chatter and a relaxed demeanour from the beekeepers as they prepare for a hard-earned feast. I join Aldona and Elena, who stand by the table.

‘This looks wonderful,’ I say.

A long oak tabletop has been brought out for this special occasion, resting now on stumps and laid out with various pots and bowls. Danutè and I add ours to the assortment.

‘Oh, girls,’ Aldona says. ‘You should be so proud of yourselves. This harvest must have been very difficult without your father, and with Marytè’s injury.’

‘It has been tough,’ I say, exchanging a glance with Danutè. She shrugs and runs off to join Elena’s children, who are running around the candlelit clearing. ‘But I’m proud of what we’ve achieved.’

‘So am I.’ She pauses. ‘How is your mother?’

‘Better. She’ll be here soon, but she’ll have to keep her leg elevated.’

I’ve not spoken with my mother about what happened yesterday. I do not know why she did it, or why she blamed it all on Albertas. He was a nice priest, more friendly than Margusz, but I suppose that’s because he’d been here longer. He knew everyone well and he was accepted as part of our community. There was no separation between him and us. That was how he liked it. But there is separation now. The priest and the Duke and his men on one side, and then there’s the rest of us. I suppose this is how it will be from now on.

‘Of course. It will be good for her to be here.’

She strokes my arm and smiles and looks to be about to say something else but stops herself. Smilte arrives and Aldona helps her lay out her substantial contribution to the feast. More than her three allotted dishes. Smilte always brings more on account of having three grown boys who eat a lot.

And they are all here. Petras ventures off towards the children, stopping to talk to Elena’s oldest boy. Tomas and his father stand apart from the gathering, both watchful, silent.

‘Evening.’

My heart flutters as I face Jonas. ‘Hi,’ I say in a low, shaky voice.

‘Did everything go okay with the Hollow Watcher?’

‘Yes,’ is all I can say, though I want to say a lot more. I pass him one of our pots of honey. ‘This is for you and your family. Happy harvest.’

He takes the pot and his fingers brush against mine. I catch my breath. He holds the jar up; it sparkles with hints of gold and amber and chestnut. Honey collected from different sides of the forest, blended as one. There’s a little of me and a little of Jonas in that jar.

Our secret.

‘Jonas, will you help Margusz bring some things out from the church?’ Smilte asks in a pleasant tone.

His eyes flick to me and there’s the hint of a smile before he lopes off to the church.

‘He’s a good boy,’ Smilte says, more to herself than to me.

‘Yes, he is,’ I say.

Smilte chortles. ‘Oh, cheer up, Austėja.’ She places an arm around my shoulder, and it doesn’t feel as comforting as it did when I was wrapped up in her embrace at my father’s wake. So much has changed since then.

I have changed.

‘Once you’re wed to Tomas, everything will all fall into place. It did for me. You can leave behind any troubles and face them as a couple. That is the most rewarding thing about marriage. Someone to rely on. Not everyone is fortunate enough to have that.’

I smile weakly and glance up at the church. There is only one person I can think of on whom I can rely and it is not the man I am meant to marry.

‘Those feelings you have, my dear, they will weaken over time.’ She dabs the dampness on my cheek. ‘Trust me.’

She puffs up her chest with a big intake of air, lets it out in a sharp huff through her nose and then returns to arranging the dishes on the table.

No longer in the mood to mingle, I find myself wandering up to the back of the church, into the clearing where the children play. The sun dips behind the stand of pines beyond and throws shadows on the grassland.

‘I’ve been looking for you.’

My stomach drops. ‘Good evening,’ I say to the Duke.

‘A good evening, indeed.’

‘I believe it was a very successful harvest for us, which means a successful harvest for you.’ I am unable to hide the disgust in my voice.

He chuckles. ‘You know, Austėja, I am not here to torture you all. But this is the way of the future. If it were not me coming down here swelling the taxes, it would be someone else. I am merely the conduit for the Duchy. We all have roles in life, some which we choose and some which we do not. We make the best of what we have.’

‘Says the Duke, who has more choices than all of Musteika put together.’

He grins and there are remnants of the young man I met in the forest. ‘I like your honesty.’

There’s a drop in temperature and the forest quietens, lending me its intuition of what is to come. I step backwards.

He studies me. ‘I return to Alytus the day after tomorrow.’

‘Well, I wish you safe travels.’

His face hardens and the charming young man is no more. He clears his throat. ‘I’d like you to join me.’

I glance back at the gathering. ‘At the feast?’

His brows draw in. ‘No. I mean in the city, as my wife.’

‘Oh. Oh.’ My mouth hangs open and I can’t think of anything more to say. There was a time I wanted to be whisked away to the city but that was the old Austėja. This new one knows the importance of family. Of belonging. Staying connected with the old and the new. Nurturing the forest. And this Austėja has no interest in abandoning the bičiulystè for a dangerous traitor!

‘No, I must stay here with my people. I want to stay.’

His eyes narrow and it confirms I am not, and will never be, seen as an equal. To the Duke, I have only ever been an amusement, an outspoken girl from the land of honey. A silly girl under his power.

‘You know, dear Austėja, most women would not dare refuse me. I wield a lot of power in these districts. I could take you as my wife, whether it pleases you or not.’

I grip at my chest, for the pressure makes it hard to breathe. As if the forest were embracing me with everything it has. I draw in the forest air, the forest magic, and allow it to expand my lungs, my breath, once more.

I gaze down. ‘Of course, Duke, it’s just that I am already betrothed.’ His eyes widen and I am pleased to have surprised him. ‘And to break a betrothal would bring much unwarranted attention from the settlers, who you have so generously honoured as the most successful harvesters in the district. It would be unwise to further upset your hardworking employees.’

‘Who is it?’ he barks. ‘One of those big bear men?’

‘Uh, yes. The eldest.’

He smirks. ‘Hmm. Interesting choice.’

‘How do you mean?’ My stomach twists in a knot. He is not my choice at all.

‘I just mean you should be careful.’

‘Be careful? You mean you don’t trust Tomas?’

‘Oh.’ He guffaws. ‘I trust him. After all, we’ve struck a deal. But you, as a wife-to-be, should keep your guard up.’

‘I don’t know what you’re saying. What deal?’

I hate the hint of panic in my tone, how he has managed to rope me in at the very moment I want to sever all ties with this man.

He looks across at the gathering, people sitting at the table. The feast is about to begin. ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’