by Adele B.
“Do you wish to find out the history of this river?” she asked. They were now walking along its shore, seeing the fast furious waters run downhill as if in a hurry to reach some important appointment, drawing over stones and tree branches.
“I would be curious to hear it” he answered. He was sure a strange sort of tale would be offered. The people here were renowned for their superstitious nature and their desire to link every mountain peak, every river valley to a story. This had been going on for hundreds of years, and the stories were told and retold, each generation adding a little bit to the original.
“This river's story is a sad one. See, there in the distance, a frighteningly steep mountain peak?! On that crag over there was once a fortress, more than four hundred years ago. Its ruins can still be seen. It was inhabited by Lady Elisabeth, the wife of Vlad Dracul – the Devil. As the Turks were drawing near, rather than fall into their hands she threw herself from the highest peak, she became one with the rocks below, and her blood turned the river water red.
Every time I come here I can't help thinking with a lot of compassion about this poor Princess. It is said that even now Vlad Dracul's soul is despairingly haunting the place where his beloved wife died” finished Livia, gazing towards the rising moon. The same moon had shone upon Elisabeth's last seconds of life; now, it was lighting up her love.
“Let's rather think about more cheerful things; tell me about Vienna” she continued, bowing gracefully to avoid a bent branch.
“I've been always fascinated by this city” she went on. She had seen many photographs and chromolithographies of its large boulevards bordered by imposing buildings, rich parks, monumental churches, interesting theatres and museums – the luxury and the attention paid to every detail.
Edward stopped suddenly and looked straight in her eyes. He had barely listened to her words, he was preoccupied by an important decision, perhaps the most important in his life so far. When she had bent to avoid the branch her hair had brushed over his face and the scent of lavender and roses had made his heart skip a beat.
This perfume brought back long-forgotten memories of time spent with his family. Very few memories, and therefore all the more precious to him. His mind's eye saw a blond lady with kind blue eyes and the same rose scent reached his nostrils as she bent to take him in her arms. A portly man with blonde moustaches was running towards him through some castle park, and a small fluffy dog was following him around, barking happily. Then he saw again the tearful faces of the servants, the cold lonely bed in which a little boy was sobbing, the long trip to Vienna at the early age of nine. All of a sudden Scotland and the lost castle didn't seem so far away, and he suddenly understood that Livia was all he needed for the present and the future, but also for making peace with his troubled past.
“You will go there with me, my forest nymph. I'll rent an apartment outside Vienna, in a forested glade where you'll feel quite at home. I love you, Livia. I plan to come and ask for your hand in marriage tomorrow, and if your parents agree we will get married and leave for Austria as soon as possible. I don't think I am able to live without you, or to leave here without taking you with me!”he said, taking her small hands in his.
“I like Vienna, but I'm not sure I can come with you” answered Livia, taken aback by his reaction. “You could not understand. My life is here, amongst these hills and these downtrodden peasants who are my countrymen. In all the years I spent in college I felt like a foreigner, alone and despised. Here I feel at home. In Vienna I would be just a Romanian, patronized by the Austrians- here I can be myself, with no obstacles and no fears! “
“Are you in love with me, Livia?”he asked while continuing to stare at her.
“You ask whether I am in love ? All the pain I feel inside when you are not with me, all the anticipation, all the happiness I feel whenever I set eyes on you – I believe this is called love. I even started to love the German language. I had learned it without great pleasure, it seemed a harsh tongue but now it has become the most wonderful language in the world, because it's the language I use when I speak to you! Nevertheless, I cannot come with you. Forgive me- I am too cowardly!”
Overcome by the burden of confessing her love for him, she was in tears now as she was sure that by her words she had lost him. She gazed upon his pale face, as ethereal as one of the young saints painted on Orthodox church walls. The blonde hair, covering his high forehead; the strange blue eyes in the moonlight. He had just told her he loved her. It all depended on her – and she had just said “no”.
They stopped and sat on a fallen tree trunk. With his arm around her, they silently watched the shining river by the light of the full moon, listening to the secret language of nature and searching for answers. A frog leapt from the water and an owl hooted on a high branch. Edward would have liked to stop time's flow, to just stay here forever, in each other's arms.
“Then I have to ask for a transfer to Transylvania”. He had taken this decision suddenly, while gazing at her tearful face. He had to admit Livia was right. In Austria she would just have suffered, all alone, waiting for him to return from the regiment. He now knew this was the right decision; he didn't want to lose her.
“Truly?” asked Livia, expansively throwing herself in his arms. To stay here in her beloved Transylvania, together with the man she loved!
Their lips melted in a first kiss from which they drew back happy and relieved.
They knew they had reached a decision which was going to change their lives forever.
A rustle sounded from the nearby bushes, and the hence peaceful horse started to bow its head and neigh, as if understanding the importance of his master's decision.
“Please take me home. It is not seemly for a young lady, and a priest's daughter too, to be seen in the woods late at night accompanied by a young and handsome Austrian officer!” she jokingly said.
He untethered the horse and, encircling her waist, started for the village, asleep under the moonlight. Laughingly they passed the Gypsy encampment, where a big camp fire was burning bright. Livia gazed towards its light, but could only see faceless shadows, darkened by the flames' power.
An old woman rose to stir the embers, and as she did this Livia could see her face. It was the old Gypsy woman who had told her fortune a few days ago.
She recognized Livia and smiled with a large toothless mouth.
Scared by so much ugliness, Livia started walking faster.
# # #
Livia lithely climbed the hillock leading to the church. She had still time before seeing Edward, but this time she wished to speak to her father about it all. After the promises they had made to each other the night before, she needed her parents' blessing. She would start by telling her father, who was always easier to face; later, she would try to tell her mother too.
She neared the little shed next to the church, where her father was painting and sculpting crosses which would be given as gifts to the peasants on different occasions, births or weddings. He was always giving gifts and loved doing it.
She paused at the door and watched him apply a touch of colour to the kind face of a Virgin holding her child. Her father's face seemed relaxed, far from his wife's constant nagging and the peasants' problems, as if he had left behind him any daily cares and was concentrating just on the easel.
Watching him, Livia felt a wave of love; she remembered long winter evenings when he was reading fairy tales next to the friendly stove, long summer days spent strolling through their beloved woods.
He had been the one to teach her not to attach any importance to the love of luxury or womanly trinkets, but rather to search for the inner beauty of the heart or the pure one of nature. Contrary to her mother, who was always advising her to cultivate physical beauty in order to make a rich marriage.
She sat next to him, on a small wooden chair. The priest smiled lovingly.
“Good day, Father” she said, starting to clean the paintbrushes. “For whom are you painting this icon?�
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”Next Saturday I'll officiate a wedding. It's my gift for the young couple” he answered, mixing a few shades of blue.
“But how are you going to finish it? You just painted the faces” asked Livia, looking at the half-drawn icon. But she already knew that even if he had to stay up all night, her father would have finished it.
“I can help if you wish” she offered. She had often done this as a child, handing him things he might need, and she was glad to be able to just sit beside him, quietly, looking at the painting which started to slowly take shape.
The priest paused in his work and looked at her with enquiring eyes.
“Are you sure you have nothing better to do in the afternoons? Perhaps a walk with a young man through the forest glades ?!“
Livia turned beet-red and hung her head. So her father already knew it all, perhaps some peasant had seen them and told him everything. For sure the whole village was talking about the priest's daughter and the foreigner.
“This is just why I came here for, Father. I have to tell you all. You know, I think I've fallen in love and it should be the most wonderful moment of my life – but it seems this love is more of a pain. He is an officer in the Austrian army, he is of a different religion, my love can only bring suffering to everyone- to you, to Mother, to me “she said with tears in her eyes. She knew her father's opinions about conversion to Catholicism.
The priest looked at his daughter with a serious face. Although he liked the Count and he appreciated his noble heart, the difference in religion was not easy to accept. It would have sent all the wrong signals towards the peasants; he was a resolute fighter against Catholicism; but the desperation and suffering so clear on her face made him stand up and hold her protectingly in his arms.
“Livia, do you remember that once, long ago, I promised you I'll do anything to make you happy?! Now is the moment to fulfill this promise.
My love for you will make me overcome my religious prejudices. I have just one fear- that your mother won't agree with all this; she has other plans for you.”
It was enough for Livia.
“Thank you Father” she said, kissing his hand.
“As for Mother, she will be hard to convince, but not impossible” she continued, and forgetting all about the offer of help she hurried towards the meadow.
# # #
Sitting on an old gnarled tree trunk, distractedly looking at a delicate white flower, Livia was wondering whether Edward might not have started to regret the promises he had made the previous evening. She had been waiting there for more than an hour and not a sign of him; nothing interrupted the ominous silence. The sun had disappeared behind some clouds, and a chill wind made her shiver in her fine silk dress. The little meadow suddenly looked sinister and forbidding. She rose, crossing through the woods in a hurry to get to the cherry orchard. From there it was just a short way to the village.
She had just crossed the little road and was entering the orchard when she saw a horse and rider drawing near.
“Excuse me Livia, I couldn't leave the castle until now” he hurriedly said, as he was dismounting and tying the horse to an old cherry tree.
“The Grof wanted to play cards and I had to comply” he continued. He had teamed up with Karl against the Grof and the Archduke, and to Karl's great despair, their team had lost! His mind was far from the aces and the jokers, he was afraid that Livia would get worried waiting for him in the meadow. At long last Karl had understood what the problem was and accepted defeat, giving up any chance of taking their money back.
“I am so happy now that you are here” she answered as he embraced her. She felt the heat of his body warm up her shivering flesh, as the cold wind rose and shook the cherry blossoms from the branches.
Entangled in each other's arms, the two lovers watched a swirl of white and pink petals cover them as the sky grew suddenly dark and a distant peal of thunder resounded from the mountains. They broke their embrace just as a quick and violent spring storm was about to begin.
“Hurry, you might still make it to the village in time” Edward said, fearful she might get drenched by the sudden downpour.
“I'll see you tomorrow around the same time” he continued, holding the rearing horse.
She left with a vague wave of her hand, and he hurried towards the castle.
A thick rain cloud had been covering the castle and was now headed for the valley. The storm lashed at his face, but he welcomed it, raising his face to the falling drops and letting them wet him all through. He saw with amazement a rider heading towards him just as everyone else seemed to be running for shelter. As the mysterious rider drew near, he saw it was Ilona, her cheeks rosy under a thick wool hood.
“I brought you an overcoat” she said, handing it to him. From her room at the top of the castle tower she could see over the treetops all the way to the orchard. She had noticed the approaching storm, the feminine shadow hurriedly running through the trees, and without giving it a moment's thought she had grabbed the coat and hurried to meet Edward.
Edward accepted the overcoat with a puzzled frown and thanked the girl; she was already leaving, proud on her horse, her dishevelled hair streaming behind her. As he looked at her, he told himself that only a Magyar woman would be able to handle a horse in such decisive and forceful manner – it was in her blood.
They returned to the castle, met with puzzled looks from the few servants who still tried to shelter the animals and goods from the storm.
He took his leave of her with a smile, and she answered in kind, her look telling and promising much more than her lips had ever said. A bit mystified, Edward retreated to his room. He was wet, cold and thankful for the brisk fire in the stone hearth.
In the castle's grand hall, in the imposing stone fireplace whole tree trunks were slowly burning and filling the room with a pleasant warmth. The guests raised wine cups and toasted each other, choice morsels of food covered the tables and conversation was heated.
Karl's eyes strained more and more often towards Ilona, who timidly inclined her head.
Drawing near, Edward enquired
“Do you know how long are we going to be at the castle, Karl?”
“A day or two, no more” this one answered, his eyes never leaving the beautiful Ilona who sat near the fire with an embroidery in her hands.
Edward smiled; whenever Karl looked towards a girl in this certain manner, his intentions were obvious, he thought.
Later that night, dizzied by the warmth of the fire and feeling drowsy after too much food and drink, he was heading towards his room when he noticed two persons in what seemed to be an overheated discussion.
They were Karl and Ilona, and although he was unable to hear anything he had the clear impression Ilona was refusing something with a decidedly brutal “no”. She left with a straight back and a proud attitude, while an angry Karl gave the stone wall a good kick.
# # #
The next day Edward found Karl on the ramparts, studying the valley below with a far-away look in his eyes.
The rain had stopped but the weather was still close.
“Get ready, Edward, the Archduke wants to leave today. Even if the rain has stopped, the hunt is compromised – too much mud in the forest! If we leave around ten o'clock we will reach Grof Gabor's castle just in time. And the day after tomorrow, we'll head straight for Vienna!”
“Karl, I really need half an hour!” retorted Edward. “If anybody asks about me, don't answer; just tell the Archduke I'll be back in time“ he continued, hurrying along the wet street.
“Fine, fine, but don't be late” replied Karl with an ironic smile. He had guessed from the panic on Edward's face that he was running to HER. So it really was a serious thing?! He was extremely curious now, he really wanted to find out where this strange love-story was headed, and above all, how the whole thing would end.
In the village happy children were jumping and running through the muddy flakes of water left by the rain. Women w
ere hanging washing out on the clotheslines, embroidering in front of their houses, gossiping a bit and keeping an eye on the children. The men were pottering about, repairing broken fences, mending their shovels and scythes, enlarging the ditches so that rainwater from the slopes could pass through without flooding the courtyards.
As the fields were all covered in water, everybody was using this respite from daily chores to catch up on small jobs around the house and the courtyard. They all were amazed to see Edward on the main street, in full uniform of the Austrian Empire, proudly riding his majestic horse.
Men and women stopped in their tracks, and the children were still.
The small ones, scared by the strange rider and marked by all the stories people were telling about the Austrian soldiers, took refuge in the nearest courtyards- although a few stood their ground just to prove their bravery in front of their playmates. Edward asked for directions to Livia's house, and even though no one spoke the language, they all pointed in the good direction. Her name alone had been indication enough.
Edward stopped in front of the house. A little bigger than the neighbouring ones, but still small compared to Austrian dwellings, it looked quaint, with its wooden balcony covered by climbing roses, and with the little garden overgrown with a variety of flowers.
“Good morning Madam. I would like to speak to Livia, if I may” he articulated, hoping the woman would understand his German.
Catrina, usually a slow person, headed now towards the house in a hurry and disappeared into Livia's room.
As it was facing the woods on the opposite side of the house, Livia had been unaware of both Edward's arrival and the commotion it had caused.
As soon as her mother told her about it, she ran towards the little gate.
Drawing near, she fearfully gazed into his deep blue eyes.
“Hello, Livia - I just came to say goodbye. Unfortunately, our short stay here is finished – but I promise I'll be back. As soon as I reach Vienna, I'll ask to be transferred in Transylvania. Then I'll come and ask for your hand in marriage, according to custom. I would be honoured if, from this moment on, you would consider yourself my fiancee.”