Storm Wolf

by Stephen Morris

  “That sounds like the weddings back home in Estonia.” Alexei laughed heartily.

  “No doubt you had a similar practice of escorting the newlyweds to their bedroom—in the house where Benedikt and Sybilla will live as man and wife—and tucking them in for their first night together!” Zygmunt winked at Alexei. “We will all stand outside their window and serenade them, of course, in case they need any help to figure out what to do together for the first time!” All the men laughed, Benedikt blushing brightly.

  “Back home on the farm, a wedding would go on for three days and nights of eating and drinking and celebrating,” Zygmunt finally went on. “But we must do tonight and tomorrow what would have been done over three days at home. There will be another wedding supper tomorrow afternoon, at our home, where everyone will gather to greet the newlyweds after their first night together. Then, at the conclusion of the supper tomorrow, Sybilla will be given her married-woman’s cap to wear for the first time, and that, as much as the ring on her finger, will mark her as one of the married women in town.”

  Alexei nodded. “We have similar ways in Estonia.” He recalled the first time he saw his Grete wearing her cap.

  “And then it will be just Beatrycze and I—and you, of course!—living in our parents’ house.” Zygmunt sounded wistful, almost like the father he would be standing in for at the wedding.

  “But first, we celebrate!” Benedikt clapped Zygmunt on the back and the men hugged each other.

  Freshly washed and dressed in their new garments for the wedding—borrowed finery had been found for Alexei in the past few days—the men emerged from the rooming house to find one of the mine’s supply wagons and an old wagon driver waiting for them in the street. The wagon was festooned with ribbons. A crowd of villagers—men, women, and children—were waiting for them, joking and singing. There were a half-dozen men with fiddles and an accordion, some of them warming up or practicing while some were already playing together with the singers. Benedikt climbed into the back of the wagon with Alexei and Ctirad while Zygmunt sat on the bench next to the wagon driver, who was also wearing his finest shirt and hat.

  The wagon driver snapped the reins, adorned with bells for the occasion, and the horses pulled the wagon away down the street, followed by the villagers and musicians. Just as Zygmunt had told Alexei, the wagon made its way across town to the house of Zygmunt and his sisters. There was a crowd of people there as well, waiting for the groom to fetch his bride. Beatrycze, standing in the yard, went in to fetch Sybilla as the wagon pulled up outside the yard. Amid more music and joking, Sybilla climbed into the wagon next to Benedikt, followed by Otylia and Renia. Beatrycze climbed into the back of the wagon last of all, bringing a basket full of bread and pierogi and other samples of the food prepared for the wedding feast. The wagon driver snapped the reins again and the horses trotted off as the bells jingled merrily. Still followed by the crowds of villagers, the wagoner directed the horses out of the village a short distance until they pulled up at the cemetery gates.

  Benedikt helped Sybilla climb down from the wagon. Together with Zygmunt and Beatrycze, they brought the basket of wedding foods to a pair of gravestones. Alexei could not hear what they said, but could see that Sybilla was addressing the stones, no doubt hoping that her parents could hear her, wherever they might be now. She set out the foods atop the two graves and then she briefly rested her hand atop each headstone, as did Zygmunt and Beatrycze. Benedikt seemed to be saying something to the headstones, probably making his own request for the parents’ blessing on his union with their daughter. Then all four came back to the wagon and climbed aboard. The wagoner managed to get the horses, reins a-jingling, to turn the wagon around and head back into the town.

  Music and laughter and smiles filled the late afternoon until the wagon finally pulled up outside the church near the entrance to the mine. The shadows were growing longer as the sun was nearly set now. The doors of the church stood open, and the priest, surplice and stole stirring in the breeze, stood beside them as he waited for the bridal party to arrive. Alexei helped everyone climb down from the wagon and then stood aside as everyone—bridal party, villagers, and musicians—streamed into the little wooden church. Finally the wagoner snapped the reins for the last time and the horses set off towards their stable. Alexei, the last to enter, closed the church doors behind him.

  Following the last “Amen!” of the service, the church doors burst open as the newlyweds and the bridal party emerged into the square, surrounded by cheering friends and guests. The crowd made their way into the tavern across the square. Alexei, helping Beatrycze to organize the children and youth of the village who would be serving the food to the guests, finally took the last seat available and found himself next to the door.

  The newlyweds sat in the middle of the table furthest from the door. The bridal party sat on either side of them. The guests were singing and laughing, drinking mug after mug of beer. Even though the songs were all different from the ones he knew, Alexei couldn’t help but try to sing along.

  Candles and lanterns adorned the tavern. Musicians played. Guests shouted toasts and well-wishes to the newlyweds from across the room between verses of songs. Platters of food appeared on the tables, brought from the kitchen by the younger folks. Beatrycze was still in the kitchen, overseeing the feast as her mother would have done if she had still been alive.

  Without warning, the door beside Alexei creaked open. It hung there, showing the darkness of the evening outside, ignored by everyone but Alexei. Ignored until the unmistakable thump of Frau Berhta’s cane and the rough grating of her club foot dragging behind her made everyone turn and quietly stare as she made her way down the central aisle of the tables filling the tavern until she stood directly before the newlyweds.

  “Long life to the newlyweds!” Frau Berhta toasted Sybilla and Benedikt, holding out an empty hand until someone thrust a mug of beer into her grasp. She lifted the mug towards the newlyweds and then sipped the frothy draught.

  “Thank you, Frau Berhta,” Benedikt replied, raising his own mug towards her. “We had not thought you would care to join our celebration,” he went on hurriedly, “or we certainly would have included you.” He looked around anxiously. Someone stood and offered his seat to the old woman, but she shook her head.

  “No, thank you… Benedikt,” she answered him. “I cannot stay this evening. My old bones do not permit me to join in such festivities as I would like. But I did want to toast you and your happy bride on the occasion of your wedding.” She raised her mug of beer and then touched it to her lips again.

  “Long life to you as well, Frau Berhta.” Sybilla struggled to stand beside her new husband and raised her mug to toast the old woman in return. Alexei could sense Sybilla’s tension and suspicion. The whole room was full of it.

  “I know we did not part as… friends,” Frau Berhta went on. “I did not wish to have such… animosity… between us. Every young woman should begin her new life as a good wife without such things in her background. Do you not agree?”

  Sybilla clearly wanted to answer. She chewed her lower lip.

  “I do agree, Frau Berhta,” she said at last. “It was a kind and decent thing for you to come to my wedding feast to offer your apologies.”

  Alexei heard nearly everyone in the tavern catch their breath. He suspected that few had ever spoken to Frau Berhta in this way, in public, before.

  “Oh, no, child,” Frau Berhta chided Sybilla. “I did not come to apologize, for I have nothing to apologize for. I came so that you might apologize to me, an old and unjustly maligned woman, and start your married life out properly with no animosity and a healthy respect for your elders. Your betters.”

  The mug of beer flew from Sybilla’s hand toward Fray Berhta before she even seemed to consciously throw it. It smashed on the floor, splashing beer on the hem of Frau Berhta’s dress and shoes.

  “Me? Apologize to you?” roared Sybilla, shaking with fury. She leaned forward, resting h
er knuckles on the tabletop. “How dare you… on my wedding day… come here and expect me to apologize to you, when you… you were the one—!”

  Benedikt rested his hand on his bride’s shoulder and gently pulled her back. “Frau Berhta,” he began, clearly struggling to think of something to say.

  “He’s afraid the old woman will demand that all the men here be fired,” Alexei realized. “She’ll want the men to choose between her and the bride at her own wedding.”

  “Get out!” Sybilla wrenched her shoulder out from under her new husband’s hand. “Get out!” she demanded again.

  “Of course I will go,” Frau Berhta answered, so sweetly that it sent shivers down Alexei’s spine. “I was never one to stay where I was not welcome. I simply came to offer you a chance to make your peace with me, child. If you do not choose to begin your new life properly, well then. What can an old woman do about that?” She turned and made her way back towards the door, dragging her twisted foot behind her. “I thought that you Poles and Silesians would have greater expectations of yourselves… and of each other.” She cast her eyes over the wedding guests. “I had thought that the girl would behave properly, if only because it was expected of her by the rest of you. But I can see that I was mistaken. I was foolish to expect good German manners from a rabble such as this.”

  She stepped out the door and another mug of beer came sailing through the air, smashing against the door as it swung closed.

  Frau Berhta paused outside the tavern. She heard the mug smash against the door behind her and then the guests all break out into a confused thunder, all talking together at once. Musicians struck up a tune to distract the guests and restore the festive mood. She slowly made her way across the square to the church.

  “It will be quite some time before they come out,” she calculated to herself. “Shall I wait here?” Her old bones would be much more comfortable at home. There was no denying that. She thought a moment.

  “There’s little chance anyone will find it,” she decided. “And even less chance that anyone will take it somewhere. It will be safe. I can return later to fetch it.” She headed off towards her own front door.

  The wedding festivities gradually resumed. Frau Berhta’s appearance and Sybilla’s outburst seemed to be forgotten as the guests began to eat and drink again, singing and even getting up to push back some of the chairs and tables to make room for dancing. Eventually Sybilla sat down again and laughed about “the crazy old woman who expected me to apologize to her!”

  Alexei observed that Benedikt also seemed to relax between the toasts and the ribald jokes. At least Frau Berhta had not demanded that the miners all leave the wedding if they wished to keep their jobs. Alexei feared that there would be other repercussions of the argument between the old woman and Sybilla, but those could be faced another day. The worst had passed, at least for now.

  Finally Benedikt took Sybilla’s hand and stood. A cheer went up.

  “My friends,” Benedikt announced, “as much as I would like to stay and continue drinking with you, I am afraid that my bride and I are tired and that the time has come for us to bid you a good night!”

  “Tired? I don’t doubt it! But you’ll be even more tired in the morning!”

  “A good night? I should hope so!”

  “With any luck you’ll be inviting us back to celebrate your first child’s baptism—nine months from tonight!”

  The air was filled with double entendres and good-natured jokes about the first night the newlyweds were about to spend together.

  Zygmunt and Ctirad stood as well, with Otylia and Renia, to escort the newlyweds out of the tavern. It was still too crowded to make all abreast, so the three couples made their way through the guests in single file, embracing and kissing well-wishers as they passed them.

  Alexei stood from his seat by the door, pushing the door ajar so the newlyweds could make their way out more easily.

  Sybilla, her hand nestled in the crook of Benedikt’s arm, leaned over to kiss Alexei on the cheek.

  “Thank you, friend Alexei,” she whispered. “I know how much you helped Beatrycze earlier, organizing the serving of the food. I am so glad that you’ve made your way to our house!”

  Alexei nodded, smiling and drunk, unable to think of a suitable reply.

  Benedikt and Sybilla, arm in arm, stepped out the tavern door, and as the door began to swing shut behind them, Alexei saw the newlyweds fall forward onto their hands and knees in the form of wolves.

  Turning from greeting other friends, Ctirad and Otylia reached out and pushed the door open again. Laughing and joking about the newlyweds’ first night, they stepped out, and Alexei saw them also tumble down the steps in the form of wolves.

  Before he could think to say something or stop them, Zygmunt and Renia had also stepped out the tavern door, and Alexei saw them become wolves as well.

  The other guests began to come forward, all intending to escort the newlyweds to their bed and then stand in the street to serenade them until nearly dawn. Alexei pushed his way past the first of them and out the door, slamming the door shut behind him and leaning against it, hoping to prevent anyone else from coming out.

  As he stepped over the threshold, though, he felt the familiar popping and stretching of ligaments and tendons. Cartilage cracked. He felt the sharp points of claws push out through his hands that were becoming paws and saw the fur sprout all along his arms. His wedding clothes tore and ripped, falling beside him to join the other tattered garments lying there.

  The six wolves, a rainbow of silvers and grays, shades of blacks and browns, but all with bright blue eyes, all stood together in the square between the tavern and the church, staring about themselves in confusion and fright. Seeing Alexei standing up against the door but slowly becoming a wolf himself, one of the smaller ones howled in anguish.

  “No!” Alexei shouted. “I cannot let this happen!” He always lost control of himself and killed when the wolf magic transformed him. He could not allow that to happen now. But even as he fell forward onto his front paws, he was struck by the possibility that there was some hope, however slight. He was changing more slowly than the other six had; could his own wolf magic, trapped inside him and subjecting him to unexpected and unwanted transformations, overcome what was evidently Frau Berhta’s wolf magic?

  Falling onto his paws, he quickly turned in a circle, wedging his massive shoulder against the door. People inside the tavern were pushing and shoving, clamoring to get out and follow the newlyweds.

  Alexei, leaning against the door as heavily as he could, peered down at the threshold of the tavern door. The source of the magic had to be there! Even in the dark, he knew that she must have left it stretched out along the threshold when she had left the tavern… That must be why she had not demanded all the miners leave with her. She had known that there would be few miners left in the village after they’d all stepped over the tavern’s threshold.

  There! He saw it! The wide belt of leather that Beatrycze had described as having transformed Ferdynand and Gosia! He snapped it up with his teeth and leaped away from the door.

  Guests came spilling out the door, falling and tangling themselves together. The six wolves in the square saw what was happening and all began howling and yelping, pairs of wolves running off in different directions.

  The leather strip—where was the buckle, if it was a belt? Alexei wondered—sailed over his shoulder as he leaped off the tavern porch into the side road. Glancing back over his shoulder in an attempt to watch where the other wolves were running, the leather strip snapped back over his broad shoulders, whipping around his back and wrapping itself back around his chest.

  As he landed, his cheek crashed into the road and his face tumbled into the dirt. He skinned and dirtied his knees. He was a man again, Frau Berhta’s strip of leather wrapped around his body. He stared at himself in amazement and then scrambled to his feet and trotted into the darkness as the wedding guests argued about who had been unable
to open the tavern door and then made their way towards the house where they expected to find Benedikt climbing into bed with Sybilla.

  Naked and alone, Alexei made his way back to the house at the edge of the village as quickly as he could.

  Exhausted, filled with worry and fright, Beatrycze stepped into her house. Dawn was still hours away.

  Alexei, in his work clothes, was sitting at the table with a mug of tea. A single lantern illuminated the room. He looked up from his tea as she entered, and gestured for her to sit at the table.

  She pulled out a chair and he rose, going to the stove and pouring a mugful of tea for her from the kettle. He placed it before her and sat beside her.

  “What happened, Alexei?” she wanted to know. “It was you that tried to block the door of the tavern, wasn’t it? No one could get out behind my sister and Benedikt, and then all of a sudden the door gave way and then no one could find them. Or my brother and Renia, or Ctirad and Otylia. Everyone went to the house where Benedikt and Sybilla were supposed to spend their wedding night, but no one was there. All the guests waited awhile, thinking that somehow we had arrived there first, but Benedikt and Sybilla and the others never arrived. Finally everyone grumbled and complained about what a strange wedding it had been—Frau Berhta’s strange toast and Sybilla’s argument with her, the tavern door getting wedged shut somehow, the missing newlyweds—and began to go home.

  “I didn’t know what to think,” she told him. “But I was afraid that what I had seen happen to Ferdynand and Gosia had happened again to Sybilla and Benedikt, Zygmunt and the rest. Is that what happened, Alexei? Have they been transformed into wolves as well? But if they were, how is it that you are here and that you were not transformed? How did you stop that?”

  Alexei stared into his cup of tea before answering her. “Yes, I am afraid that Sybilla and the rest were all transformed into wolves,” Alexei admitted. “I saw it happen as they stepped over the tavern’s threshold, so I pushed myself out after them and tried to stop anyone else from coming out and being transformed as well. But, of course, the transformation came over me as well. As it had all the others. But I knew what to look for because of what you told me about your cousin. I saw the belt stretched out along the tavern threshold, and so I snatched it up with my teeth and jumped away from the door because I couldn’t keep it shut any longer.