But it was a fool’s notion. The woyak would be on her before she’d managed to get to her feet. I must stay, still as the hiding deer, soft as the grass in spring.
At the end of the great clan meet, after the solstice and the rituals of Kupała had been observed, the men would chase the maidens into the forest in a mock hunt.The children often practiced a similar game of their own, watched over by the old ones, who made sure that they didn’t stray too far or anger the goddess by interfering with the main rites. Even those too young to be interested in girls were keen to practice their hunting skills and show how well they could track through the forest.
Since she was six she’d taken part, and she’d been good at it too, but she’d never imagined that the game would ever be practiced in such deadly earnest.
‘A hunter,’ Alia said, placing the marjoram in her basket, ‘would never be so careless.’ But the woyak didn’t take his eyes from the ridge, his spear drawn as Alia came up to him.
‘The trees have you jumping at shadows,’ she whispered over his shoulder. ‘If it was one of the clan you wouldn’t have heard a sound until his blade had slit your pretty white throat. And your demon can only come out at night. See, the Leszy is kind, can you not hear her laugh in the breeze?’
Still he didn’t move, his spear held out before him as if ready to stab at the trees. ‘You can carry the basket if you wish,’ Alia nudged him. With one final glance, the woyak moved quickly, his free hand reaching out for her. ‘Leave me alone, you idiot!’ she said as she twisted out of the woyak’s grasp, but her voice was playful. ‘Do you think of nothing else? One moment you were ready to jump at shadows and already you’re—’ Giggling, Alia had no chance to finish the sentence before he grabbed at her again.
This time she twisted easily out of his grasp and stepped away, her face twisted into a look of mock disdain as she slapped at his hand.
‘Who would be interested in herbs when there’s such as you about?’ He was playful too now, relieved that there really had been nothing to trouble him, but there was still an edge to his voice, a trace of fear as if he was trying to mask his feelings.
With studied casualness he looked the girl up and down, her body swaying behind that tight white dress, with only the occasional fretful glance to the forest to betray his true feelings. This place smelt too much of sap for him, sap and death. How could anybody live surrounded by trees? And if it hadn’t been for them he would have taken this girl long ago. But this place had unnerved him and, behind his playful grasps, he was angry at her teasing and the fact that he’d been caught out so easily.
But that Wislaw was right. Give the old priest his due for knowing his art. There was something about the trees. All these strange scents, the herbs and grasses which smothered the air in a thick choking pall. How did the clean wind ever get in past the trees, except from the river of course, and then it would carry the chill of the waters.
He gave one last glance at the bracken. At least there was still time before the darkness. Even now, with the sun still high, the thought of it made him shiver, so he reached out to her and hoped that she wouldn’t realise his fear.
‘And what if that precious Grunmir of yours catches us?’ Alia’s voice was light but maybe she too was hiding something. For all her outward gaiety there was a trace of sadness, her movement more slow and laboured than usual to Iwa’s knowing eyes as she looked for more herbs.
‘What do I care for that?’ he laughed.
‘Oh, you would if he were here. I have seen how you all bow and scrape to him: “Yes, Grunmir, no, Grunmir, at once, Grunmir”.’
‘The others, maybe, but not me.’
‘Don’t you lie to me,’ Alia said as he made another lunge for her. ‘You woyaks are all so very brave behind his back, but it’s a different story to his face.’
‘I wouldn’t count on that where I’m concerned. Grunmir has no hold over me.’
Alia turned to face him, her fingers lingering across his jaw. ‘My valiant little woyak,’ she said, bending forward to give him a quick kiss, but her gaze carried past his shoulder to linger on the trees. ‘I don’t know what I would do without you, my brave boy.’ He bent over to return the kiss, but she had already eluded his grasp again.
‘Don’t play games with me,’ he said, a touch roughly. ‘I’m as much of a man as any of them.’
But Alia had picked up her basket and held it out between them like a shield. ‘I’m sure you are, my battle-hardened woyak. You just happen to do whatever Grunmir says out of your own free will.’
‘That Grunmir is nothing but an oaf.’
‘And you are the one to tell him that to his face, I suppose?’ Alia turned to walk away, but the woyak caught her and spun her round.
‘If you wish, I would, and I’d not have any fear of Grunmir.’
‘Perhaps… I’d like to see that.’ Alia stroked his chin playfully. ‘But then again, maybe not: I’d hate to see how Fang would carve that pretty face of yours.’ She leant in to whisper in his ear but again her gaze strayed to the forest. ‘I would have you intact, my pretty young woyak.’
‘And I always thought that you women like to drool over the odd battle scar or two.’ The woyak’s laughter was cut short as Alia pushed him away.
