CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Austėja

I see it now. How all the signs – with a nudge from Stanislaw – had led me here.

I knew it the moment the Duke told me a deal had been struck. The moment Krystupas was led away in disgrace. The moment Tomas approached me. I knew.

His eyes twinkled with satisfaction, and he walked with the swagger of a man who’d captured a fat forest beast. All he needed was the corpse of a bison, sprawled out behind him, to add more drama to his arrival.

‘I cannot talk to you right now,’ I said, unable to look at him. ‘I need a moment on my own.’

I did not wait for his response, though he mumbled something and his easy confidence transformed into a deep scowl. As if the crown had fallen from his head.

I wandered into the forest, where my feet always lead me, where my heart is at home.

I arrive at the oak, of course.

The forest chose me to seek the truth and so here I am.

Did Krystupas really take Stanislaw’s life?

He’s a believable suspect. Krystupas remains on the outskirts of our community, rarely joining the festivities. He is a hard man but is he violent? Could he really have done this?

I lean against the oak and there’s a gentle hum from above. I press my ear against the trunk. I may be imagining the vibrations, the busy chatter of a family after being at a feast with my own, because this hollow is burned out. Perhaps it is the voices of my bičiulystè that echo in my mind.

The wind shifts, altering direction. The oak crackles as if puffing up its chest and stretching out its limbs to protect me. Only it cannot.

I am no longer alone.

I knew when I crossed the bridge that it would happen this way. Danger was ahead and yet I came here anyway. Because part of me needs to know, needs to understand what happened here. I do not yet have the truth and I need it. Stanislaw needs it. Isn’t it better to risk myself now than marry a violent man – one who may put my family and any children we have at risk of harm?

An image of Stanislaw creeps in, but not one of blood – one of … fear? Bruised and nose bloodied, an arm shielding his face. A shadowy, menacing figure standing over him. I turn and there he is.

‘It was you.’

Tomas steps into the moonlight, his face expressionless, watching me. ‘What was me?’ he says, drawing out every word as if they were each a sentence on its own.

‘You killed Stanislaw.’

He raises his chin.

The wind circles me, the forest buoying me with courage. Whispering to me. I am speaking on behalf of Stanislaw. The oak. The forest. We all want answers.

‘No. You saw them take him away. It was my father.’ There’s no concern in his voice, only irritation. ‘It comes as no surprise to me. He has always been a cruel man. Belittling me, punishing me when I don’t meet his expectations. I was never good enough for him. Jonas was his favourite.’

I shake my head. ‘I don’t think that’s true. Jonas feels the same way about your father as you do.’

A flicker of surprise and then another scowl. ‘He always treated me differently, because I am.’

‘What do you mean?’ I ask, wanting to draw out the conversation. Sensing the tension, the danger, the hairs on my arms standing up, the shiver on the back of my neck. The air and the wind, Vejas, warning me.

He lets out a breath, as if to shake himself free. ‘You don’t need to worry about any of it. We should be thinking only of our future.’ He steps forwards.

‘Why? You don’t even like me.’

He frowns. ‘What does that matter?’

‘It should matter in a marriage.’

‘My brother likes you well enough so that makes it worth it for me.’

‘You’re cruel,’ I say, and he flinches at the word he’s used to describe his father.

His fists close, but he remains still. ‘Don’t you say that to me again. I do what I must for my family.’

‘How does having your father arrested help your family? You did it for no one but yourself!’

‘That Hollow Watcher was badgering my father about the mead. He’d sent him on his way, but he was causing trouble for us. Threatening to spill secrets, my mother’s secrets. He started on me then. More mead, more taxes. He was greedy. A drunken moron who should never have messed with us.’

‘What happened?’ I ask. The forest quietens.

‘I tried to strike a deal with him. If he put in a good word to the Duke when he arrived, then I’d sneak him more mead. He’d have none of that. Didn’t want the Duke to know he’d been striking deals with the settlers.’

My heart thumps in my chest; I know I must tread carefully. Tomas killed Stanislaw because he felt disrespected. He may kill me too.

‘He didn’t take you seriously.’

‘No!’ He steps forwards, his face red. ‘He said he’d only deal with my father from then on. Didn’t respect me at all. Neither did my father, or Jonas. I’d had enough.’

I shuffle back a little to put distance between us. ‘What happened then?’

‘I took matters into my own hands.’

‘You killed him.’

‘I didn’t mean to.’ His shoulders slump. ‘We had a fight. He fell back and hit his head.’

Flashes of Stanislaw’s last moments come to mind. Him looking up at Tomas, falling. Dark raven’s eyes, blood trickling down his face. Insides spilling outwards.

Tension builds in my body; my voice is thick with disgust. ‘And then you covered your tracks. Told people it was a thieving traveller. Now you frame your father.’

He storms towards me; a tight grip claims my upper arm. ‘I did what I had to and now I have the respect of the Duke. Finally, someone sees me as more than just a beekeeper.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with being a beekeeper,’ I whisper as tears sting my eyes. For the first time I feel as if the beekeeper way of life may be enough. It’s enough for me. If I survive this moment, I will be the best beekeeper I can possibly become.

‘For a moment there I thought you understood me. But you are just like everyone else.’

‘So it was you who killed my bees?’

Tomas spins around and I stumble in his grip. Motina steps out of the shadows, a branch alight in her hand. She hobbles closer. Tomas glances between us, calculating whether she’s a threat.

He pulls me closer. ‘Why is everyone so obsessed with the bees?’

Motina sighs deeply, her impatience evident.

‘What about us?’ he continues. ‘We’ve been stuck in this antiquated forest forever. There is a whole world out there. Why should we be stuck here scooping out globs of honey, when people like the Duke are living in castles in civilised towns, devouring our delicacies?’

I realise we are not all that different. We both wanted something more than this place, we both wanted to escape. To be free of the rigid rules and obligations. The only difference is, Tomas was willing to kill for it.

Motina spits at his feet. ‘I knew you were a bad person. The bees are wise.’

‘The bees know nothing.’

Motina sneers. I attempt to flee to her, but he pulls me back, his arm pressed against my throat, my back against his pounding chest. Grip tightening, my feet lifting off the ground. My toes scratch at the earth, an attempt to stay grounded. Connected to the forest.

‘No. I can’t let you go and tell everyone what happened.’

‘What are you going to do, then? Kill me like Stanislaw? My mother too?’ I am short of breath, but a surge of adrenaline inhibits the pain. ‘When will it end, Tomas?’

‘It won’t take much for your mother to look like she’s had a fall in the dark. But you: no, I need you. A wife will bring me status. I will finally be considered a respectable man. A husband, beekeeper and Hollow Watcher. I will begin my rise.’

‘I will not marry you.’

His grip on my throat tightens.

‘I think you should listen to the lady.’ The Duke steps out of the shadows, Jonas by his side. ‘It’s clear she won’t be marrying you after all.’

Tomas eyes the men, assessing how much they’ve heard. ‘You have no say in who I marry.’

‘We all heard your confession,’ the Duke says.

‘It wasn’t me,’ Tomas says and throws me aside. I drop to the ground behind him, digging my fingers into the soil. The cool earth calms me. I take deep, ragged breaths.

‘It was her fault.’ Tomas growls at me. And I can see it in him now, the rage, the violence. The intent to kill. In that instance I am Stanislaw. Afraid and aware my time is limited. But Stanislaw didn’t have anyone to rally around him, to protect him, fight with him. He didn’t have bičiulystè.

He leans over me. ‘Your grandmother. It is all her fault!’

Senelè? ‘How is my grandmother responsible for your behaviour?’

He turns to the Duke now, pleading. ‘She’s a witch. Everyone knows she is into sorcery. She hasn’t let go of the old ways. She put a spell on me.’

‘Oh, please,’ Motina scoffs.

I crawl backwards, give myself space to get to my feet. My voice barely containing the anger raging inside.

‘Are you claiming a spell made you murder Stanislaw?’ the Duke asks as his gaze flickers to me.

‘Yes! She should be arrested for her pagan ways and so should Austėja. She is just like her grandmother.’

‘This is a serious allegation, Tomas. Austėja’s grandmother could go on trial for this.’ The unsaid words are left hanging in the cool air … I could be put on trial too.

Jonas shakes his head, disappointment and shock carved into his expression. ‘How could you take another man’s life?’ He has paled.

‘I was under a spell,’ Tomas repeats.

I find my voice. ‘And were you under a spell when you ripped his guts out and tied them around the trunk of this tree? When you covered your tracks and framed some make-believe honey thief? And then your own father! Were you under a spell then?’

‘He betrayed the Duke.’ Tomas turns to him, trying a new tactic. ‘I am loyal to you, can’t you see?’

‘Stanislaw was trying to help us,’ Jonas says with a sideways glance at the Duke. ‘You betrayed our father, Tomas. How could you do that?’

Tomas scowls. ‘We both know he is not my real father.’

And there it is. The truth of it all.

It comes as no surprise. There are glimpses of Smilte behind his features, and his brothers too, but none of his father. Smilte was heavily pregnant when she moved to Musteika with Krystupas. She’s hinted at the truth and so has Tomas. No one questioned the paternity of the firstborn son, not when she’d set up house, among strangers, with Krystupas. Her new husband.

Perhaps it explains his hardness. Had Smilte betrayed him? Had he known of her pregnancy and married her anyway? Or did she deceive him? Whether he knew or not, there was bitterness there. Deep-seated resentment that had never been spoken about. Until now.

Jonas stumbles as if the truth is a physical blow. I want to move towards him, but Tomas pushes me aside. Jonas’s large frame deflates, but not from shock. Relief? It makes sense to him now, why his father has always been so hard, controlling. Distant.

The fight has gone from Tomas too. There’s no more hiding behind a facade: he is who he is. And so, when the taller of the Duke’s henchmen appears in the depths of the forest to march him away, he does not resist.

As he disappears into darkness, I am relieved there will be an end to our betrothal. But intertwined with relief is fear. For I am once again a Marti, a young single woman, and I must still find a husband. Not to mention the allegation of witchcraft and threats of trials over our heads.

‘Come,’ Motina says. ‘Let’s return to our bičiulystè.’ Away from the oak she guides me, trailing behind Jonas, who trails behind the Duke. As if sensing my fear, the Duke glances back over his shoulder, his face shadowed by the flame in his grasp.

Around me the forest shudders; leaves shiver and the temperature drops.

Even in the half-light, his expression is clear. Watch out, Austėja, it says.