The Girl on the Stove

by M. Wiklund

  "You forgot a cup."

  "Well, I am not terribly smart," Elena said with a smile. "They will tell you that back in my village unanimously, so you may know it is true. Even my brothers would agree."

  "You have brothers?"

  "Certainly," Elena said. And for the first time since Galina had entered the room, she began to speak at length about something other than knucklebones.

  *~*~*

  Elena had two brothers, in fact, both of them older. She was the youngest of her family, born when her parents were so old that they had not expected to have any more children. All through the pregnancy the family and their friends worried, afraid of a miscarriage or a child born ill and weak who might not survive outside the womb. They prayed long and hard about the matter, and they also went to the town's wise woman, midwife and rumored witch to ask for advice and perhaps a magical blessing for their unborn child.

  The midwife said to them, "I cannot give you a magical blessing, for all of my remedies are entirely natural, fruit of the earth and air. I do know how to improve luck, but that is not magic of my working, only knowledge of the ways of the world."

  The parents nodded, pretending they believed it. Everyone in the village agreed it was more than that.

  The midwife gave them a look, knowing what they thought. And she said to them, "First of all, you must not raise your hand above your head, good woman, for that will cause your daughter to get tied up in your umbilical cord, which does not make for an easy birth. And you must not sit with your legs crossed, for your daughter will be born with crooked legs."

  Well, everyone knew at least that much wisdom.

  "Do not cut your hair," the midwife continued. "And do not allow anyone to swear around you—if anyone should be so crude near a new-formed baby, it is all too likely the baby will be marked by it, either physically or spiritually. And when the baby is born you should not show her around for two days—but then I will be with you and I will help you along."

  And she also offered much medical advice, on what to eat and drink, what position the mother ought to sleep in and what prayers to offer to the saints. All of it was standard, information the parents had heard when their sons were born – though much of it they had forgotten, as a result of the passing of years.

  But one final thing the midwife said to the couple. "Your daughter, when she is born, is like to be headstrong. She will have certain ideas about the way she will live that you may not agree with. Still, you ought to be patient with her, and she will be a blessing to your family in time. This wisdom is not about your pregnancy but about your life thereafter—still I hope you will heed my words."

  "We will," the parents promised. "But how do you know such things?"

  "Call it an old woman's intuition," the midwife said. "Or whatever you like, but there are things I know that I may not explain. And," she added with a dire look, "It is good not to be too curious."

  So the parents did not ask any more questions, though in fact they wondered how the midwife knew it would be a daughter, and whether it really was a daughter or the midwife merely assumed it was. The mother, however, rather hoped it would be a daughter, having only sons as yet. It would be nice not to be the only woman of the house, and she rather hoped Elena would help her with the chores and women's work.

  Elena's birth was hard but she was a surprisingly healthy baby. She cried often but not so often as to cause concern, fed regularly and overall caused very little trouble. And so her parents called her their easy child and disregarded the midwife's warnings…until Elena grew a little older, and they started asking her to work.

  And here Elena began to show that rumored headstrong side. For whenever her parents asked her to work, she would say, "No, thank you," as if it were a simple request. And if they continued to insist that she work, she would cry and run into a corner of the room and hide, or she would climb onto the stove and not get off. And this continued for many months and even years, despite whatever punishment her parents would threaten or whatever reward they might promise.

  So then, her mother said to her father, "It is as the midwife said. We have a stubborn daughter who will live her own way. I wish it were otherwise, and that she might help me in the kitchen and around the house, but we can force her to do nothing—else, having heard the predictions of the midwife, I would fear for her future."

  And her father said, "Very well, my wife, I cannot but agree with you. We must be patient with Elena and let her be, and sooner or later she will prove a blessing to our house."

  And so they did. Elena spent her days playing with the children around town or, more often, by herself, for the other children often had chores to do and taunted her for being lazy. Much of her time she spent playing solitary games, knucklebones being one of the best. And as she grew older and the girls in town grew busier, she spent more and more of her time alone.

  Until the day they died, Elena's parents were patient with her. Her mother did manage to teach her some simple skills concerning cooking and cleaning, though never as much as she would have liked. But she was not bitter about that lack. She said of Elena, "It was a miracle my child was even born, at the age I was. I will let my miracle be as she is, for I suppose that is how the good Lord meant it." And Elena's father was much the same. And before they died, they made Elena's brothers, Andrey and Illarion, promise to take care of their younger sister and never force her to work.

  Andrey and Illarion were not impressed by any midwife's words or under any impression that their sister was a miracle. They had known her for her whole life, and saw that she contributed little to the household while they had to do all the chores around the house. Nevertheless, they respected the promise they had made to their parents and took care of her.

  All was well until Andrey and Illarion came of such an age that they wished to marry. They were running their father's trading business, which had been doing rather well, and it left them with little time to look after the house, and since Elena would not help they decided it would be best to get themselves wives. That was the sensible side of the matter. Elena, of course, did not buy for a second that this was the real reason. She had seen that more and more they had been staring at certain village women, and more and more often their conversation at dinner would drift back to two in particular: Marfa Alexandrovna and Grusha Makarevna. And when they came to Elena and told her that they intended to go to these ladies' fathers and ask for their hands, Elena sighed with relief that at last they were doing something about their rampant infatuation.

  She soon changed her mind, however, when Marfa and Grusha actually moved into their home. For the state of affairs took a decisive turn then. Marfa and Grusha did, as might be expected, take on the women's work around the house, cleaning and cooking and keeping things in order, and this was a relief to Andrei and Illarion. But they complained constantly about Elena's refusal to help.

  "Elena," they would say, "you are a woman. Come down from the stove and do some women's work with us. It is only right—you are the daughter of the family, after all."

  Elena, however, stayed on top of her stove. One way or another, she would not have a pair of cranky women dictate to her what she should do, even if they were members of the family now. When the pestering became too much to bear, she would run outside and go for a walk despite the cold, which haunted the area. Her brothers told their wives that Elena was a bit slow-minded and lazy, and they would have to put up with it because it had been their dying parents' last wish.

  So they did, but they resented it. Every day as Grusha swept the floor she would sing a song about how industry was the root of all good. Every day Marfa would avoid Elena's eyes as she chopped up vegetables for the soup. They often talked about the work in front of Elena, and it was clear they wanted her to feel guilty.

  And so for years things went like this—not exactly peaceful, but well enough. Although it was true Andrey and Illarion were somewhat disappointed because neither Grusha nor Marfa had conceived a child. Som
etimes Elena overheard them talking about trying to find her a husband, but the talk all came to nothing because as they said, they had so little money and Elena was so lazy that no man would ever find an interest.

  Chapter Three

  Elena stopped her story here because Galina let out a huge yawn. She had been suppressing yawns for a while now, letting them build and disperse in her throat with a hand over her mouth and her lips pressed closed, but this one got the better of her. Immediately she was embarrassed. Yawns were not ladylike, and even if Elena was a commoner, that was no reason for Galina to let down her guard around her. A princess must be a princess at all times.

  Elena said, "So, as you can see, in my village I have something of a reputation because I refuse to do women's work, or work at all for that matter. Andrei and Illarion would tell you I am very slow, and that you must forgive me." She smiled ironically, and Galina almost winced at the smile.

  "I do not find you slow."

  "Ah? Then how do you find me?"

  Galina bit her lip. She had spoken the denial instinctively, politeness so drilled into her it had been impossible not to, but it was true too—judging by her story Elena was a bit of an odd one and intensely lazy, but slow was not how Galina would have described her based on their brief acquaintance, or on the rumors she had heard around court. She said, "Bold. Single minded." Anyone who could be this fascinated by knucklebones clearly had a level of focus that Galina simply lacked. She could maybe embroider a handkerchief for this long, if entertained by conversation, but knucklebones, to her, lacked artistry. She did not understand how it could absorb anyone.

  "You're very kind," Elena said. "Bold. I like that. Now my brothers would tell you that's a kind word for pig-headed and selfish."

  Selfish, maybe not, though self-centered described Elena nicely, too. After all, could anyone who did not have an immense sense of self-importance keep secrets from a king and a princess? Or could they sit with a princess and speak only of themselves? Arrogant, really, to imagine the details of a peasant's birth would interest any lady of the court, even one of far lower rank than Galina. But Galina did not say these things for fear she might offend Elena. Instead she said, "Surely you must be more renowned around the village for your works of magic." It was time to get this conversation back on track.

  "Now, perhaps. Most people think it is very unjust for a girl like me to get magical powers while the hard-working men would never be able to do such feats."

  "Surely magic requires a great amount of cleverness," Galina said coaxingly. "Perhaps men who work the fields all day would find it beyond them."

  "They are good men."

  "I am not insulting them."

  "You are," Elena said. She glared at Galina for a moment before dropping her gaze. "Well, it is true their lifestyle is not like that of a princess." She cleared her throat. "If you think I can do magic because I am clever, you are wrong."

  "Oh? Then how do you do it?"

  Elena opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. "I think you are the clever one, princess. You had me right about to tell. But I will tell you nothing, and I think it is time I left. You are tired, the night is coming on, and this conversation is fruitless. You may give my respects to the king."

  Galina grabbed her arm.

  Elena stared at her.

  It occurred to Galina that if Elena had magic, holding her arm most likely would not prevent her from leaving in a cloud of smoke or forcing Galina off her stove. Also that it was the first time she had touched Elena during the conversation except to climb onto the stove, and that until now Elena had always been the first one to reach out. She let go, and Elena pulled away. But she made no move to leave, and instead sat still, waiting to hear Galina might have to say.

  Galina bit her lip.

  The king would be angry at her if Elena left without Galina learning her secret. But the evening was wearing on, and demanding it of her now would do little good.

  "Stay the night," she said.

  It was a command, but she softened it to sound like a suggestion, a request. That was how to approach someone with power; it was no good to push them too hard. And lowborn or not, Elena had all the power here.

  Elena shook her head. "No matter how long I stay my answer will be the same. I can tell you nothing."

  "Well then, tell me nothing. Only you must stay here for another day at least in any case."

  "And why is that? Prolonging this will not do either of us any good, and I do not think it is good to keep the king's hopes up."

  Whether Galina learned the truth or not, the king would be especially angry if Elena left after a single day and Galina had learned nothing. But she said, "I enjoy your company. I would be happy for you to stay another day."

  Elena stared at her.

  "I'm still bad at knucklebones," Galina said lightly. "Poor me. You must teach me how to do better, Elena."

  Elena laughed. "You are lying to me, princess, but it is a kind lie. Very well. I will stay the night, and tomorrow we will play knucklebones again. It's no hardship to stay in a castle like this one, certainly."

  "Father will provide you with a bed…"

  "Eh. I'll sleep on my stove." Elena shrugged. "I've done so often enough before. And a commoner should not sleep in a room intended for royalty."

  Galina did not insist. Part of her agreed. If anywhere, Elena would have to sleep in the servants' quarters—and that felt wrong, somehow, putting her with the people that served Galina and her ilk, acting like she was less after they had passed the day together so companionably. And yet really they couldn't let her sleep in the bed of some noblewoman, probably sharing a blanket and pillow.

  She wasn't equal, but she wasn't really less either.

  Galina didn't know what to make of her.

  She left her in the chamber still on her stove, and went to see the king. She told him that Elena was staying the night, and she didn't know much about the magic yet, but she would, she would soon. Elena was cleverer than he gave her credit for, but Galina could still sway her. She could feel it in her gut.

  *~*~*

  Breakfast next morning was pudding and bread. Galina ate it in her bedroom and told her maid to make sure something was brought down to Elena. The maid responded it had already been seen to.

  The maid's name was Taisia. She had worked with Galina since forever, or at least since her old maid had gotten too old to work and retired to live with another branch of her family in the countryside. That was a long time ago, and yet Galina didn't know Taisia well. She probably didn't even know her as well as she now knew Elena. That was because Taisia was a commoner. Galina had sometimes wanted to talk to her, in moments of impulse or whimsy, and ask her what she thought of this or that or the other. Taisia was very attractive, too, in a rough and callused sort of way. Galina had sometimes thought about kissing her or asking her to touch her. It was the sort of thing one of the noblemen or even noblewomen might do with their servants that would be only mildly scandalous even if it were found out— a noble's prerogative to use a servant however they liked, although if Galina did such things with someone of her rank she would doubtless be considered a whore. If she were to take Taisia as her lover, no one would question it, and besides, no one would have to know. In her wilder moments she thought of how nice it might be to lie in Taisia's arms, and perhaps to have her as a confidant, someone whom she could love and trust without asking her father's opinion.

  She had never done anything about such thoughts. Taisia had a very bland manner about her, and she always did whatever Galina said without question, and she never looked Galina in the eye. If Galina had kissed her, she might have let her and accepted it as one of her duties, hiding some secret distaste in order to preserve her position. It wasn't a nice thing to think about. In some ways it was frightening.

  No. With Taisia, as with everyone, she judged it wise to maintain distance.

  Today, Taisia said, "I have a message to pass along. The king says he has considere
d the matter and he will give you two more days and two more nights to get the truth out of this girl. If you can do nothing by the end of the third night, he will return to other methods."

  Doubtless harsher methods. And although Elena had stood up well enough to threats and force so far, Galina didn't like the thought.

  She finished her breakfast. "Thank you for telling me, Taisia. Will you help me dress?"

  She put on a better dress than the day before. Today she knew she was going to go see Elena, whereas yesterday it had taken her by surprise. She wanted to look good. Yesterday Elena had called her grand but she hadn't meant it. Galina wanted her to mean it. Of all the people in the country, she felt there was no one she wanted more to impress.

  Well, after all, she had to impress Elena. She wanted to get her to speak, for her father's sake. All this was only in line with her plans. The king had never objected before when for the sake of an influential nobleman, Galina had dressed better than usual or claimed the evening with singing or recitations. He always encouraged her to do her best.

  Today she would do her best, and surely she would win Elena over.

  Elena had eaten by the time Galina arrived. She was already playing around with a bunch of knucklebones, flipping and throwing and catching, eyes narrowed and focused. She gave Galina a look as she walked in the door and, without bothering to even offer salutations or the slightest bow, said, "I've been thinking about you all night."

  From anyone else it would have sounded like an admission of love, perhaps even an overblown declaration. The type of pronouncement Galina usually might hear from an overly perfumed lord, the type of pronouncement that never read as sincere. But Elena sounded more irritated. Galina walked over to the stove. "I'm flattered."

  "Don't be so…diplomatic. Here, let me help you up." Elena gave her a hand, and this time Galina accepted it without hesitation. It was warm and rough, and just how she had remembered it. (She had touched it only the day before, but it already felt like a ritual.)