I walked all the way down to the village. Behind the carved gates of each smallholding, cows lowed and chickens squawked. Here and there, a woman swathed in shawls and scarves could be seen on the muddy pathway, carrying a bucket or a bundle. A long cart loaded with logs passed by, pulled by a pair of heavy horses. Red tassels dangled from their bridles, a charm against evil spirits. The logs would be from Cezar’s plantation, and destined for Bra?sov. I stopped by Judge Rinaldo’s house to offer his wife our regards. She invited me in for a glass of rosehip tea and expressed the hope that Aunt Bogdana would be ready for visitors soon. I did not tell her that even we had been told to stay away.
The village church stood on a little hill, its pointed wooden roof reaching toward heaven. I wavered outside, tempted to seek out Father Sandu, but not sure exactly what I wanted of him. I could not speak of Night People. I could have asked him to pray for Father’s recovery, but in the end I walked past, for it was early and I did not wish to disturb the priest without good reason. The shutters of his little house were closed fast. I headed back past Ivan’s place and his wife gave me a small pot of honey. I suspected that she could ill spare it, but it was impolite to refuse such a gift. Iulia would be happy, I thought—Tati or I could use this to bake something sweet.
Maybe Florica had some nuts hidden away.
Gogu and I made our way back into the castle courtyard 132
under a light falling of snowflakes. I was planning what I needed to say to my sisters. I’d start with an apology to Iulia for hitting her. What she had said to me last night, about letting Gogu go, had made perfect sense. She could not know the mixture of grief and guilt that had made me strike out at her. I would tell them how sorry I was that I hadn’t specified we were not supposed to mix up the funds. I would explain truthfully that we had been quite short on both foodstuffs and silver even before Cezar had walked off with our two coffers, and that I had no intention of begging from him. Then they could give me their ideas on how we might get through the winter. I began to feel a little better. Admitting I was wrong did not come easily to me; I preferred not to make errors in the first place. But today, with the echo of Tadeusz’s soft voice in my ears and his touch fresh on my skin, I knew I must make peace with my sisters and allow them to help me.
“What?”
Gogu was right. Tied up before our front door were my cousin’s black gelding and two other mounts.
“A pox on Cezar!” I lengthened my stride, putting a hand up to balance the frog. “He’s the last person I want to see this morning.”
The morning after Full Moon wasn’t the best time for us to receive visitors. We tended to be tired and cross after too little sleep. In the kitchen Florica was brewing fruit tea and Iulia was slicing a loaf of bread while Paula put out dishes of plum 133
preserve. Stela was setting out glasses and plates—she looked so weary, she could drop something at any moment.
Cezar was talking to Tati, who was pale and drawn and did not seem to be paying much attention. My cousin’s two friends sat at the table. Cezar had met Daniel and R?azvan during the years of his formal education in Bra?sov. They were landholders’ sons, the kind of young men deemed suitable to be future husbands for girls like us. I thought Daniel supercilious and R?azvan rather slow. Both were of solid build, like Cezar, and their interests ran along similar lines: hunting, drinking, and discussing their own exploits loudly and at length.
The kitchen was full of their presence; I felt as if we had to shrink to make room for them.
“Cezar.” As I walked in, the eyes of the three young men traveled from the frog on my shoulder down to my wet boots and the sodden hem of my gown. “Another surprise visit?” I saw something on the table next to Tati’s tea glass, and my heart lurched. Instantly, Cezar was forgiven. “A letter! A letter from Father?”
My cousin had risen to his feet as I came in. Now he stepped forward and took both my hands in his. I resisted the urge to snatch them away. “It is from Constan?ta,” he said. “But this is not Uncle Teodor’s writing. Paula tells me it is that of his secretary.”
“We waited for you, Jena.” Paula was solemn. In her eyes I read the unspoken message: if it was bad news, it would be best if we all heard it together.
“Father often gets Gabriel to address his letters,” I said, 134
picking up the folded parchment and reaching for the bread knife. I willed my fingers not to shake. “Thank you for bringing this, Cezar.”
“I’m at your disposal, as you know. This came with a repre-sentative of my agent in Constan?ta. The man had not seen your father, only a messenger, who left this with him. I have no further news for you.”
“Excuse me.” I couldn’t ask him and his friends to leave the room, although I dearly wanted to be able to read Father’s letter in private, with just my sisters around me. I went over to the stove, my back to everyone, and slit the seal.
I saw immediately that the message, too, was in Gabriel’s writing. My heart plummeted with disappointment. I scanned the letter quickly. If it was the worst news, I needed a moment to collect myself before I told them. I cleared my throat, swallowing tears.
“ ‘My greetings to you, young ladies, on your father’s be-half,’ ” I read aloud. “ ‘Teodor is still too unwell to write. The cough has deepened and is causing his physician grave concern.
Rest assured that everything that can be done will be done.
“ ‘Your father is not able to send any instructions for the conduct of his affairs while so severely debilitated. I am aware that you have Salem bin Afazi’s consignment in storage. . . .’ ”
As I spoke, my eyes were scanning the next section of the letter, in which Gabriel suggested that I ask Cezar to deal with the selling of Father’s precious goods. I decided I would not read this part aloud. “ ‘A decision was made not to give your father the news of his beloved cousin’s tragic and untimely death as yet. His physician believed that such a blow could well prove 135
fatal. I would ask that if you write to your father, you take care to shield him from this news.
“ ‘I will dispatch this by Cezar’s agent and hope it reaches you safely. Of course, I will remain by your father’s side through this difficult time. As instructed, I have sent word to Dorin that he should not return to Piscul Dracului until he hears from me again, since, in your father’s absence, there will be little employment for him there. Your obedient servant, Gabriel.’ ”
