I was rarely alone during the day, as it was my usual place aside my father in the fields. But one unusually hot day I took it upon myself to fetch a bucket and head to the stream, my intention to bring some cooling waters to my family. The Feigl boys were out in front of their cottage. When they saw me, they moved out onto the road to block my path.
Perhaps it was the atypical heat of what should have been a spring day, but their humors were especially foul as I came upon them. I do not recall the words that were spoken, though I remember they were intended to hurt and humiliate as they always were. I do not remember whether it was something I said, some nearly imperceptible gesture or some perceived slight, but I remember the sting as I was pushed from my feet to the dusty road, my bucket clattering off. I recall the humiliation as they laughed and the fear as they loomed above me, speaking to one another of what they could do to me, of what they would do to me.
You must pay the toll, the littlest one said, to pass on this road. What struck me about Symeon’s saying it was how ugly the child was, deformed-almost from where the midwife had crushed his head. That he should say it, demanding it on behalf of himself and his brothers, as a troll in one of Maleva’s tales would demand some exaction for passage over its bridge, little ugly Symeon, it seemed so apropos. But I was frightened. It was broad daylight and someone would be about shortly, passing on the road, coming in from the fields. These execrable boys, knowing this, and still undaunted. And me, only nine.
This is our road, snarled Ezra. Gerald looked amused by their toying with me, but I am sure he would rather be visiting some indignity on Leonid or Mina as they were older and their discomfiture all the more gratifying to his sadistic soul. Yes, our road, piped up the little ugly one. What capitation do you bear to grant your passage? This from Ezra.
It came to me then, as I sat in the dust, my body shivering, fear coursing through my body. I remembered I did bear a thing of not inconsiderable value that might assuage their depravity and hasten the cessation of this cruel-hearted intimidation. I reached into my breeches and offered them a gold coin I kept with me. Their eyes immediately lit up. Suddenly Gerald was interested. He snatched the coin from my hand and stood there studying it, holding it up to his eye, biting it, shaking his head, wondering where I had gotten such a treasure. Let me see it! Let me see it! Symeon was dancing around his brothers. Ezra reached out to touch the coin and Gerald slapped his hand away. Where did you get this? He turned to demand of me but I had already retrieved my bucket and scurried off, back to the fields, abandoning my pride and my plan to bring fresh water from the stream to my family.
My troubles that day were not over, but they came from an unexpected quarter. After supper my father was drinking, which was not unusual in itself, when he asked Leonid to take the other children from the cottage. Leonid looked at me, and the look he gave me was concerned, but he gathered Mina, Viktor and Sasha and took them from our home. My father was sitting at the table, gazing at me. I waited, disconcerted. How did you pay for the shoes your sister wears? he asked. I was suddenly very scared of my father and for him. Of him because, though my father was no cruel man, he did not hesitate to take the switch to us when he felt it called for. For him because no matter how hard he worked he had not been able to afford a decent pair of shoes for his youngest child. But here, so unexpectedly, without warrant or visible means, I had done so. I, a nine-year-old child. My action had affronted his pride, though I had never intended such.
I could have told my father the truth. I could have told him of that first night at the stream, of meeting the lord. I could have told him of the feast Vinci had prepared, a feast he had invited my father to. I could have explained how the lord offered my employ, asking me to greet wayfarers, to direct them to partake of his bounteousness. I could have been completely honest with my father and told him of the rider-less steed in the dead of night, of my mounting suspicions that those I directed to the manor house did not leave as they had arrived. But I did not.
I lied to my father.
Feigl, I told him. I had earned the shoes in the domestic employ of Feigl, cleaning his cottage, sweeping the floors, mucking out their nags. I knew the answer would hurt my father’s pride as assuredly as the truth, perhaps more so. But I was also aware that my father would accept this explanation, that his pride—coupled with his disdain for the Ashkenazi—would keep him from confronting the other. When was this done? he asked me. I compounded my lie, saying it was at night when we went to the stream, that I would excuse myself from Leonid and the others and visit Feigl’s household.
My father sat there for what seemed some time, considering what I had told him, considering me. I wondered if he would strike me. I would not begrudge him if he did. Finally he raised his jug and drank, a hearty quaff that he gagged down, the liquid no doubt burning his throat. When he had swallowed he forbade me from visiting the stream ever again, adjuring me that I spend my nights in his company. That was all he said to me, all there was to it. I accepted his punishment with some relief. I had narrowly escaped a second beating that day.
However, I was troubled. Forbidden from visiting the stream, ever again. I was young and had no real idea what forever meant. I imagined the lord would be disappointed. There would be no way I could continue in his service when my evenings were restricted to the four walls surrounding me. The gold has seemed unreal. Yet it was real. I had secured the handful of coins I had already earned in a spot known only to myself, unbeknownst to all others. There would be no new coins, I sighed, looking out the door into the night, imaging Leonid and Mina in the water up to their knees, Viktor turning over rocks looking for fish, and Sasha pleased to be with her brothers and sister in that idyllic spot.
The next morning they rode into our village, boyars from the west. There were eight of them, each with his attendants and personnel and their arrival doubled the size of our village. They wore elegant robes, the richest and most decorated clothing any in my village had ever seen. There were red boots, and yellow leggings under blue tunics. They wore ornately-decorated gorlatnyi on their heads and beards on their faces. On their hips were curved swords and their horses—what fine steads—their horses were plumed and armored. Nothing like them had ever been seen in my land and most of my people, unsophisticated and provincial, shied from these obviously cultivated and urbane visitors.
I was wondering which one or whose attendant I should approach and extend the lord of the manor’s invitation when Feigl took it upon himself to greet them. We watched him bow, groveling low. We watched how he deferred his eyes as he spoke to them. Though we were too far to hear his words, his unctuous manner was conveyed across the distance. Only one of the boyars spoke to Feigl and at the end of their short conversation the riders rode on and Feigl returned to the small crowd of us that had gathered.
They were returning delegates from the Boyar duma in far off Muscovy, Feigl lorded the information over us, like a cat with a particularly scrumptious bird in its mouth. There was a question of the land ownership following the death of the former lord, and these men were here to settle it. A question of the land ownership? I wondered to myself. How, when the proper lord of this land was ensconced in the splendid manor house? The lord Vinci. I was a child. It would have been inappropriate to speak these thoughts unbidden in the company of adults. I had no desire to converse with Feigl. If I did, and my father espied it. I had already wounded his pride, in truth and with a fabrication.
The boyars and their entourage settled on the land behind Feigl’s cottage. They erected enormous, colorful tents and their cooks began at once to stoke a mighty fire for their noontime repast. They were the talk of our village until there was no one left in our village to talk, an event whose propinquity was upon us.
Emboldened, perhaps, by the encampment of boyars behind his home, Feigl’s imperiousness increased ten fold in the days following their arrival. Daily he rushed about the village, barking orders to others, directing the women and children to haul water fro
m the stream to the boyar camp, brokering a purchase price for the few emaciated goats owned in our village, a sale none had asked him to adjudicate. His officiousness in those days knew no bounds. No doubt he received some remuneration for his efforts, though he offered no compensation to those whom he directed about. This is our chance, he told anyone who cast him a suspicious eye, our chance for the village to shine in the eyes of the Muscovites! Caught up in the excitement the presence of the strangers engendered, no one pressed the Ashkenazi, though none doubted he was interested less in the standing of our village than his own aggrandizement.
The mood of the father rubbed off on his sons. I had decided that I would bear stoically any indignity Gerald and his brothers visited upon my person, much as Leonid had. But then one morning, two days after the boyars descended on our village, events took a turn I could not ignore. Leonid and Viktor were in the fields with our father. I was accompanying Sasha and Mina to the stream to fetch water for the boyar camp. We were taken with the foreigners and needed no excuse to get as close to them as we could, whenever we could. Their manner of speech, their dress and fearsome horses, all were magnets drawing us to their bivouac. Enheartened, no doubt, by Feigl’s mood, Gerald, Ezra and Symeon waited for us as we struggled to the camp, water sloshing in the wooden buckets we hauled.
Bid your father avoid the spirits on the evening after the morrow, Gerald sneered at Mina, as my father will call upon him. The way he ignored me, as if I were not worthy of notice. I was the oldest male present on our side, and his disregard was purposeful. I cannot imagine what our father would discuss with yours, was Mina’s riposte, and for a moment I was cheered by her sass. But then Gerald spoke and his words deflated my spirits. He calls upon your father to discuss the terms of your dowry. The way Gerald said it, the ice in his voice, the lasciviousness. Mina was visibly taken aback, but she gathered herself and managed to ask the terms of what dowry?
The endowment for your hand, a vile grin crossed Gerald’s face, and that of your sister’s.
Sisters? Sasha stood there, all of five years, clutching her single bucket. Did she comprehend what was said and its import? I could only hope not. Father has decided, Ezra spoke up, his tone no less rancorous than his brother’s, that we should be wed. Come, Mina hurried us along, ignoring Feigl’s boys. But I could tell, she was distressed. Surely, I thought, our father would rebuff any offer Feigl made. But would he? Our father was not an old man but life on the land sapped one of his vitality quickly. This, coupled with the death of our mother and his having to raise the five of us alone, had aged him beyond his years. His incessant drinking did not help.
Mina was of marrying age. Mother had been betrothed to father at an age younger than she. And Feigl was materially stable, if not prosperous, if not desirable. Mina may not know happiness beside Gerald, but nor would she know hunger and deprivation. I shuddered to think that my father would find the offer attractive. I looked upon Sasha, little Sasha, my dearheart. No! I vowed to myself silently as we delivered the water to the attendants. It must not come to pass. I would not allow it.
I spent the remainder of the day considering. How could I derail this plan before it had a chance to reach fruition? I could not talk to my father. I was a child. He was their guardian and this was not my place. I thought of running away with Mina and Sasha, but Mina would never leave my father and the village. Sasha and I would not survive long in the inhospitable mountains with their wolves and other inhabitants. I thought about it long and hard, and then, quite serendipitously, it came to me. Feigl’s avarice, a greed he had passed down to his sons, would be their downfall. I knew what I must do.
The next day I hurried off to the stream before my sisters, filled my buckets, and made for the boyar camp. There were rumors of talks, of discussions in the evening between the boyars and the lord Vinci. The talks were held outdoors, in the camp. Feigl whispered, to all who would listen, that if the lord of the manor, this Italian dog, Vinci, did not turn the estate over to this nobility it would be taken from him.
Gerald and his brothers were gathered outside their cottage, doing no work, as usual. Look, Gerald, Ezra’s words were a taunt meant for my ears, our future brother-in-law. I veered from my path and approached the three. Ezra and Gerald looked at one another and the latter snickered. Symeon had his hand in the pocket of his breeches and was amusing himself with something there.
I spoke before they could find the next insult. If we are to be family, I said the words like I accepted their inevitability, then our time would be better spent seeking some accord than bickering. Gerald looked at me, immediately suspicious. What do you have in mind? he asked guardedly. My father is a poor man, I admitted. He will never be able to offer yours a dowry worthy of my sisters. I continued before they could comment. But I know where great wealth may be had, like that which I bore the other night. At the mention of a bounty the faces of Feigl’s boys lit up, even little Symeon’s. Whatever suspicions Gerald harbored were banished by his cupidity. Of what do you speak? he pressed, enmeshed in my deception.
I told them that the gold coin they had taken from me, I had stolen from the manor house. It is as I thought! Ezra blurted but Gerald hushed him. Go on, the eldest of Feigl’s three louts encouraged. I told them of vast riches unsecured in the stately house, of an abundance of treasure. A surfeit, whose slight diminishment would surely escape attention. The look in Gerald and Ezra’s eyes told me I had them. Tonight, I confided, the lord will be away, will he not? Negotiating with the boyars. The manor house would be unattended. There was no need for me to say any more.
Gerald and Ezra talked excitedly among themselves in their father’s language. The little one, Symeon, made a show of understanding the matters of which they spoke, but he was daft and would be drawn along into scheme. I continued along my way to the camp, satisfied that I had done my part.
I sat in the dirt and tossed pebbles at twilight, watching my brothers and sisters walk off to the stream. I felt a certain sense of satisfaction knowing that even now Feigl’s sons were plotting what would be their demise. My father sat in the cottage and drank until he snored. I waited in the night for Leonid, Mina, Viktor and Sasha to return, and when they did we retired for the evening.
The entire day and the next the village was abuzz. Feigl’s boys had disappeared overnight. They were nowhere to be found. Where had they gone? Voices were hushed less Feigl overhear. Perhaps a demon had absconded with their souls? If such were true, it was asked, then whence the bodies? There were some who suspected the boyars. But Feigl had insinuated himself into their camp, and it was felt that even if they recognized him for a sycophant, they would not harm his children. Could the boys themselves have snuck out into the night? Was this possibly some practical joke on their part?
There is one detail I have left out of my account and a second that was unknown to me. A day or two before they disappeared, Gerald and his brothers had accosted my siblings on their evening perambulation. This was nothing new. What was unique and noteworthy was Sasha’s response. The constant indignities aimed at Leonid, Mina, Viktor, and—when I had accompanied them—myself, were not lost on our littlest sister. Though but five herself, and a delicate five at that, she understood well the intent of their barbs and minacity. And that night, a night I was absent, my youngest sister rose to the occasion when Feigl’s boys assailed them.
Maleva had spoken of the evil eye once when she regaled us with her fables. None of us truly understood the evil eye, but we knew it was supposed to visit misfortune and woe to the one upon which it was cast. As Mina would later recount, Gerald, Ezra and Symeon were barring the road before my family. No doubt Gerald hoped Leonid would offer some demurral, which Feigl’s eldest could conflate to some prevarication for whatever abasement he already bore in mind.
It was Sasha who responded first. She stepped forward, hands fisted on her small hips, head cocked, eyes locked on their tormentors. Gerald and Ezra laughed at what he must have considered Sasha’s impudence. S
ymeon chortled because his older brothers did. He had his hand in his pocket and was stimulating himself.
And just like that Sasha, with one eye lidded, tendered the evil eye. Ezra, being younger and more prone to the fears instilled by superstition, ceased his laughter first. Gerald was brought up short when he realized his brother had quieted. Symeon laughed for some moments afterwards until he noticed his brothers standing stock still in the road, regarding the little girl posturing before them with a mixture of uncertainty and disquiet. Sasha held her ground, and as she did so their unease gave to timidity and this to discomposure. Without a word, Gerald turned and stalked off to his father’s cottage, his brothers in tow. Only the little misshapen one glanced back, not quite comprehending what had transpired, angry that his attention had been diverted from his trousers.
Early in the afternoon following their disappearance, Symeon reappeared. There was a cry from the road as a peasant woman ran past. Her babushka had come undone. Men, including my father, came in from their fields immediately to investigate. They did not have to proceed far down the road to discover what had frightened her.
Some wretched creature had dragged its broken body down the road. The woman had stumbled upon it and been scared half to death. I overheard my father describing its appearance to some other men later that day. The beast was naked and covered in mud and bracken. It was near death and bore wounds that told of a savage attack. A hunk of meat had been ripped from its shoulder and neck, revealing the tendons of the throat and its breastbone. Large chunks of flesh had been torn from its ankles. Smaller bites peppered its limbs. These latter looked like the gnawing of some canine animals. The thing has been gelded.
I Kill Monsters: Fury (Book 1) Page 23