The Wild Fields

by Purple Hazel

  “He sounds wonderful, Lyev,” she said. “Can’t wait to meet him. I hope he likes me!” And to this, Ludmilla could only chuckle and pat her on the leg reassuringly. “I have no doubt he will,” she said sweetly. Ludmilla told Tatyana about growing up with father and her older brothers: how strict her father was when she was little, and how he worked them so hard—practically year-round—until one by one they melted away to go join the army and never returned.

  “Only I stayed,” said Ludmilla, “and when I get back home, I look forward to giving him a big hug and telling him all about what I’ve been doing.” She also told Tatyana he’d been quite wary about her leaving him alone for two months after she got the fields planted (during the height of growing season no less). There was certainly plenty of work to do even after planting; though certainly not as difficult as tilling and sowing the crops, of course.

  She admitted to Tatyana, “It has really bothered me these past several weeks whenever I remember the expression on his face as I rode away. He had this look about him that seemed so forlorn and depressed—as though he didn’t truly believe I’d come back.”

  She made a good point. After all, her brothers had run off in the same way and, though Father likely considered it to be good riddance in regard to at least a few of them, this was absolutely not the case regarding Ludmilla. She was his favorite. Besides Vladymir who had left years ago, Father loved her the most she could tell. It made her eyes tear up as she spoke. Tatyana noticed this and identified completely with her lover’s sentiments. Tatyana couldn’t begin to imagine being away from her own father for that long. She sighed and rested her head on Ludmilla’s shoulder as they rode in the wagon, then embraced Ludmilla’s big arm and squeezed it tightly, telling her “I know he’ll be so happy to see you again Lyev, and I’m anxious to meet him, too.”

  * * * *

  Sadly though, when they arrived at the farm Ludmilla could tell—even from a great distance—that the place had been raided. Her heart sunk in her chest. Her stomach felt nauseous. Ludmilla could see from far off that the barn had been partially burned, and as they got closer, it looked like the farmhouse had been looted as well. It made her blood run cold. Tatyana saw the look of worry in Ludmilla's eyes and embraced her around the shoulders to comfort her.

  However, even Tatyana could see as they got within a few hundred yards that debris and furniture had been strewn about in front of the farmhouse; and sections of the homestead had clearly been vandalized. Slowing down her old workhorse from a trot to a slow walk, Ludmilla assessed the situation from afar, shaking her head with deep concern as they neared and then entered the yard around the farmhouse. She looked at the front of the dwelling and saw furniture strewn about the porch. The door was open, too, like someone had finished robbing the place and left in quite a hurry. Bits of food and bread chunks could be seen littering the floor and front porch as though whoever had been there was carrying food with them and dropped pieces of it as they scurried away. “Oh, God,” muttered Ludmilla. Tatyana sighed deeply as well.

  She and Ludmilla silently gazed around the front yard of the farmhouse. Birds chirped in the trees as though it was otherwise just another beautiful summer afternoon. But for Ludmilla it was nothing of the kind. Something was wrong—terribly wrong about the situation—and that’s when they saw him. Tatyana noticed him first and gasped in horror. “Oh, my Lord…Lyev. No!” she exclaimed.

  There was Ludmilla’s father, out in the yard across from the farmhouse about a hundred paces in the opposite direction from the barn. That’s where the old tree was that Ludmilla used to climb when she was a little girl, and mother would send her outside to play after her chores were finished. It was also near the spot where they’d buried Mother years ago. The wooden grave marker, Ludmilla could see, was broken in pieces and littered about the ground near her grave. Next to it was a body.

  It was Father, sure enough, though Ludmilla tried not letting herself believe he was truly gone. He was blue and cold. Had probably been dead for several days. What’s more, they could clearly see he’d been murdered, likely by bandits roaming the area. It couldn’t have been Tatars—probably roaming bands of brigands—possibly Turks—who would have been travelling around the area looking for forage and easy opportunities for plunder after deserting the Tatar main army. Maybe they were merely hungry and stopped at the farmhouse for a meal. Maybe they were trying to get information. It was hard to tell. But why kill the old man? It just didn’t make sense…that is, unless one knew the truth about the Bashi-bazook. That was their reputation. Wanton killers, all of them.

  Ludmilla and Tatyana cautiously perused the area, but the bandits were long gone, leaving the evidence of their atrocity scattered before them. Tatyana went inside and finished searching the house while Ludmilla went over to cut down her father’s body. This grim task she knew must be left to her lover. It broke her heart seeing him like that.

  After going room to room, Tatyana concluded that the Bashi-bazook had probably lived there for at least several days, torturing Ludmilla’s father for sheer sport and then finally dragging him outside to finish him. Dried blood stained the floor, and other signs told the grim tale of his ordeal quite vividly. Tatyana could see what they’d used on him during the interrogation and it sickened her. Why in the world would they do this? Just what in the hell could an old farmer tell them?

  “ANIMALS! Oh, my Lord in Heaven, WHAT ANIMALS!” she exclaimed as she crossed herself in the Russian Orthodox fashion, pinching her index and middle finger together with her thumb but gently touching first her forehead, then her belly, her right shoulder, and finally her left. During this she piously muttered the Trinitarian Formula in Greek, “Eis to onoma tou Patros kai tou Huiou kai tou Hagiou Pneumatos.”

  Outside meanwhile, Ludmilla was doing the very same thing, “placing the cross on herself” and stammering out the barely-remembered phrasing of The Trinity. She approached her father’s lifeless body slowly, grimacing at the sight of the horrid scene. He was found in a grotesque pose, tied to the tree near Ludmilla’s mother’s grave and apparently abused mercilessly outside the farmhouse as well before being dragged to the tree. Boot prints were all around the body and also beside the path that his body had made in the mud as they pulled him along. It was too much for Ludmilla to take. Her heart burned with rage and anguish, yet her legs buckled under her from the shock. She collapsed to her knees on the ground next to his lifeless body and sobbed bitterly for quite a while.

  Tatyana came out of the house presently to join her, but there was practically nothing she could think of to say to try and comfort her heartbroken friend. She tried not to look at the frozen expression of sadness on the dead man’s face. Instead she knelt in the drying mud right next to Ludmilla and embraced her around the shoulder. Ludmilla sobbed quietly, then leaned over on Tatyana for a moment, burrowing her face into the base of Tatyana’s neck and shoulder area. Finally she could let it all out. This was what she needed Tatyana to do for her now. She burst out crying like an anguished child, gripping the material of Tatyana’s dress as she wailed in emotional agony. They cried together, too, both knowing Tatyana would never get to meet the man Ludmilla had so idolized growing up and emulated in every way possible.

  After quite a while kneeling beside the body and cuddling Ludmilla’s face in her chest, Tatyana finally murmured. “It’s all right, my love. He’s at peace now. We’ll see him again in Heaven, I promise. But for now, you have to let him go my darling. Please. He’ll still be up there watching over you…just as your mother always has…just like mine always has. It’s going to be alright, I promise.”

  Ludmilla couldn’t speak, still blubbering from the overwhelming emotion. She nodded and pulled away slowly to get up and try to find some tools to bury her father. It was already late in the afternoon, and he deserved a proper burial right next to Mother, just as they had once been in life. That thought was all she could cling to as she tried remembering her lover’s kind words.

 
Tatyana was right after all. Ludmilla knew that. Now Father and Mother could be together with God in His holy kingdom. That’s what the priest would have said, back when Ludmilla was a little girl…back when the family would take the big wagon and she and her brothers would pile into the back to go to church. Father’s time on Earth had come to an end, yes—and now he was with the angels. The priest would have said that very same thing. Nevertheless it was now up to Ludmilla to live the kind of life that would have made Father proud. And she knew he’d see her from up there—up in Heaven—with Mother next to him. Together once again they’d be; finally reunited. That’s what Ludmilla now believed and it gave her a small measure of comfort amidst the terrible anguish of the day’s experiences.

  Ludmilla somberly gathered up a pick and shovel from the remains of the partially burned-out barn and hurried back to dig a grave for him right next to Mother’s while Tatyana created a burial shroud out of bedsheets. Together they sewed the body into the shroud and placed Ludmilla’s father into the ground as the sky began to darken. Evening was now approaching so Tatyana went into the house to throw together some kind of meal for them. Meanwhile Ludmilla continued to work. There was still so much more she wanted to do for him as she endeavored to create a respectable final resting place.

  It would take her well into the night, building a cemetery of sorts around both graves, constructing a fence around it out of broken pickets from the family garden and eventually piling stones on top of Father’s gravesite to keep wolves from digging up the body in the night. Tatyana left her alone, coming outside to check on her periodically and creating torches for her to light up the worksite. Never nagging her to call it a night or even considering urging her to finish in the morning, Tatyana brought dinner out to Ludmilla and let her eat while she made an extra torch to use. Then Tatyana searched for wooden slats in the barn to make new grave markers.

  Meticulously Tatyana fashioned two Orthodox crosses, with a vertical shaft and three cross-pieces. Then she bent the bottom one slightly downward to the right, in the manner of the eastern religion. In the morning, Tatyana also promised, she’d carve their names into the crosses—plus an inspiring epitaph. “Loving Husband and Father…Loving Wife and Mother,” she clarified. “And I’ll pick some wild flowers, too. You’ll love it, Lyev,” she added. “It will give you comfort.” Ludmilla nodded, and tears began to well up in her eyes again.

  It had taken them well into the night, but when finished, Ludmilla and Tatyana looked down proudly upon their handiwork. Ludmilla was now too tired to cry or shed one more tear. Instead she kept reminding herself and even said out loud at one point, “Their together now, finally. And, yes, you’re right, Darling, I will see them both again someday. Thank you, Tatyana. I’m so very glad you were here with me. You’re all I have in the world now, you know?” Tatyana nodded and smiled warmly back at her. “Yes, I know, Lyev…and I'm pleased I was able to be here. But now, darling, let’s go get some sleep. I made a bed for us,” she said with a fatigued smile.

  Ludmilla sighed…then gulped when it sunk in. Sleep together? Share a bed? Ludmilla hadn’t thought about that yet. What if something happened during the night? However, nothing did. They were both too filthy and exhausted to do anything—or for that matter even get close to each other. No, they went right to bed and slept all night in their dirty clothes (with Ludmilla facing the opposite wall for good measure). It was too late to worry about changing or bathing. That, it seemed, could wait.

  Next morning Ludmilla ate a breakfast that Tatyana whipped together for them. She then stole down to the creek to bathe herself privately while Tatyana worked on the house a bit. It was a surreal feeling, recalling the shocking and unsettling imagery from the previous day. It caused her to contemplate things going on in her own life too, and take a good long look at herself and her quality as a person. No doubt about it, if she’d been there absolutely nothing could have been done to defend her father. The Turks would have tortured and killed her too (or perhaps even worse once they’d discovered she was a woman). Still it was so much to bear; the grief and regret.

  Oh, how he must have suffered; and died in his loneliness with his captors tormenting him and torturing him viciously until he thankfully expired. He must have figured by then Ludmilla had run off to the city for good; might never have intended to come back at all. And for that matter even if she ever meant to, he must have thanked the Lord in heaven she’d not been there when those barbarians showed up. She had literally nothing to hold onto now except the hope that her father’s soul was finally at peace. Later after her bath she returned to the gravesite while Tatyana searched for some wild flowers to decorate the graves.

  Yet it was when Tatyana took to carving the inscriptions on the crosses vertically and horizontally to fit all the words in (“Loving Wife and Mother”…“Loving Husband and Father”) that it finally forced Ludmilla to come to grips with her own dishonesty. Seeing the words husband and wife on Mother’s and Father’s grave markers? It seemed the time had finally come to confess her true identity. The lie simply had to end. It was at last time to tell Tatyana everything she'd been concealing: her gender, her real name, how she’d hidden it so well all these years, how she’d lived as a boy and dressed like one since she was in her mid-teens. No holding back either. Tell Tatyana about her brothers, the emotional abuse and the mocking she endured…yes, tell her everything.

  Watching Tatyana working feverishly for quite a while carving out the words, Ludmilla finally took a big long deep breath. She sat down on the ground outside the little cemetery she’d made the night before and spoke:

  “Tatyana…I love you,” she began. Tatyana looked over at her and smiled. “I love you, too, Lyev,” she replied, then went right back to work carving. Ludmilla paused for a short while, then continued, “I've felt this way for you…right from the start, you know? Right from the moment I first saw you.” Ludmilla was starting to tip her hand…starting to reveal how nervous she was beginning to feel. Tatyana looked back at her again and subtly gave out a very soft, happy sigh.

  But Ludmilla clearly looked and sounded a bit imbalanced to her. Realizing her lover wanted to tell her something she felt was important; and sensing it was distressing Ludmilla to get it all said, Tatyana dropped her carving knife and stepped carefully out of the little cemetery plot. She sat down on the ground next to Ludmilla; then hugged her big strong arm. Tatyana put her head on Ludmilla’s shoulder while she continued to speak; but in the back of her mind she had a feeling what this was about. She’d been preparing herself for it—didn’t really know how she’d react until the moment came, to tell the truth.

  “However,” Ludmilla began again, then she paused. “I mean…I should probably finally tell you something. Something about me, I mean.” Tatyana chuckled softly and cut in with, “You mean that you’re wonderful and handsome and caring and amazing? Yes, I already know these things, Lyev. Thanks…but you don’t have to tell me all of that.” Ludmilla chuckled half-heartedly. Then she took another breath, not wanting to be distracted further.

  Sure, she could have stopped right there…accepted Tatyana’s lovely compliment and simply left it at that. But then again what would happen later that night in bed? What if Tatyana became amorous? What if she reached down, between Ludmilla’s legs, and discovered the truth? Because she most certainly would, if things went too far.

  Ludmilla continued, “Yes, I'm everything you say—almost, that is. I'm loyal and hard-working. Reliable. I can take care of you. I can be with you too, right by your side, for the rest of your life. And I will, you see? I love your father and I love everything about you from your toes all the way up to your cute little nose.” Tatyana giggled and squeezed Ludmilla's arm tightly, but the big woman kept talking. “You're beautiful and desirable. I adore you. Really and truly I do. But…well, what I mean to say is…” Ludmilla felt a lump in her throat and it stopped her cold—right in midsentence.

  Then Tatyana surprised her! Tatyana moved in with her f
ace and lips, interrupting Ludmilla’s ordeal with a big wet kiss on the cheek, snickering and then pulling back from her with a mischievous grin. She shocked Ludmilla with what she said next: “It's okay Lyev, I think I already know.”

  Just what did that mean? Ludmilla turned slightly toward her with a wide-eyed look of embarrassment. Tatyana smiled warmly with a look of acceptance and understanding. She nodded slowly while doing so. In Tatyana's mind it all added up to one thing; and she’d pieced it together over the many months she’d known “Lyev”: the smallish hands, the hairless arms and face. Then on top of that there was no Adams Apple in her throat. Dead giveaway! And, of course, Ludmilla had soft whiskerless skin on both her cheeks and neck. Tatyana had noticed these things when she'd brought Ludmilla's dried boots back to her room, and watched her while she was sleeping that first night at the inn.

  No…it hadn't been Bogdan who brought in the boots and the firewood; it was Tatyana. Russian men were usually rather hairy, she'd come to learn by now, from their knuckles down to their calves. Tatyana saw Ludmilla's legs, and she had comparatively very little hair. Suddenly that flash of skin she'd seen in the doorway when Ludmilla's robe splayed open the night before…it all started to seem so very, very strange.

  Then there were the two big fleshy lumps that mashed right up into her face when Tatyana embraced “Lyev” outside her father’s tavern that morning when she left. THAT was not a man’s chest, she immediately realized. And when she had those two months or so by herself during the remaining winter season, Tatyana had used the time to consider her dilemma: was she in love with a man or was she in love with a woman?

  First thing to consider was whether it even mattered. No one had ever made her feel the way “Lyev” had. No one had ever really listened to her. “Lyev” was clearly all that she had ever wanted. Better than those stinky men with filthy beards who came to her tavern. Better than a girlfriend she could confide in and gossip with on occasion. Better than an overbearing husband who might beat her or abuse her. “Lyev,” she concluded—whatever “he” really was under all that clothing—was truly her heart’s desire.