Ancient Furies

by Anastasia V. Saporito

  “And there is the question of shoes. All I have is high heels, and they would be too large for you. I hate for you to put your old shoes back on. There’s nothing left of them. But maybe when you get to Peĉs . . . they have very nice stores, and maybe Rosa, my sister, will help you to get some shoes. This small suitcase will be much better than that old pillowcase. I’ll leave it in the other room so that you can pack your things in it, and you can come downstairs when you are ready.” And she slipped out as quietly as she had entered.

  I hated to leave the warm bath, but got out reluctantly, dried myself, brushed my teeth with real toothpaste for the first time in months, and put on my clothes. Everything was ironed and smelled fresh and clean. I dried my long hair, combed it out, and braided it. I liked to wear either one braid to hang down my back or use two to form a circle on each side of my head. I looked in the mirror, the first I had seen in weeks, and liked what I saw. My cheeks looked rosy, the black eyes even darker now that my hair and face were clean.

  “I’m sure glad I don’t have blue eyes,” I said to my reflection and left the bathroom to walk downstairs.

  “Well, she looks like a new girl,” the General said. “Why, you are even very pretty. In fact, you remind me of my niece.”

  Here we go again. They see blonde hair, and they think pure Aryan blood is running through my veins. I looked up as I neared the bottom of the stairs and saw Lieutenant von Staate standing next to the General.

  “Well, you do look different, ‘wandering stranger.’ Are you ready to once again trust your ‘protector’?”

  “Yes,” I answered with a smile. “I guess I’m ready. My suitcase is packed.”

  “My, my, we are traveling in style. No more pillowcase, but a real suitcase?”

  “Nothing but the best for me!” I answered, pointing at my raggedy shoes.

  “My sister Rosa knows that you’re coming,” Frau Maria said. “So when you get there, she’ll have everything ready. God be with you, my dear. I hope we will meet again. I almost never leave this house now, so I don’t think I’ll be going into Peĉs. But maybe this nice young man could bring you back again.”

  We embraced as she wished me farewell, and I thanked her for all her kindness. I walked to the door, glancing once more at the portraits on the wall, thinking to myself, You’re all stuck here with only Hitler to stare at. You can’t go anyplace else. But I’m as free as a bird. I said good-bye to the raspy-voiced General and walked down the steps to the driveway, glancing around for a last look at the peacocks, but they were nowhere to be seen.

  The Lieutenant drove slowly through the forest, and I looked back to see steam from the pool rising above the pines. Twilight was just beginning. Pines lining the road looked even taller and darker, the fading light giving them a mysterious look. The forest road began to darken as the sun sank lower, when the car suddenly came to a stop. I looked ahead to see a young deer standing in the middle of the road. It turned its head to look at us, its huge brown eyes staring unafraid. With a jump, it disappeared into the thickness of the forest.

  “I wonder if they realize that there is a war raging?” I said, leaning back in my seat.

  “I doubt it. We humans are supposed to be superior,” the Lieutenant answered. “With all our intelligence we are the fiercest of animals, yet so much good could be done if we used our intelligence correctly. So many wonderful things could be accomplished.”

  “Are we going on, or are you waiting for the deer to come back?”

  “I just hate to leave this peaceful place,” he said with a sigh. “I feel my uniform is so out of place in the middle of all this natural beauty.”

  “It’s out of place anywhere. I hate uniforms. I think they deprive a man of his individuality. An army looks like mass-produced factory objects with one name, one purpose, one color, one ultimate end.”

  “But don’t you think that a nation needs an army?”

  “What for? My father was a captain in the Russian army during the revolution, and all of our friends were officers as well, two of them generals, and what did they accomplish? As you said a moment ago, the human brain is capable of so many wonderful things, and if used properly, with a goal of universal peace, there wouldn’t be any need for armies.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, “but peace is just a cliché. Nobody really cares about it or wants it.”

  “That’s not true. We were a peaceful country. At least we had peace before you came, and after you had taken over the country, why do the German soldiers yell, ‘Untermenschen’ at everyone? What makes you all think your nation is superior? Just because you are tall and blond and of German descent? Well, I don’t mean you personally, of course, when I say blond.”

  I felt my eyes blazing as I looked at him, feeling hatred toward him, but still feeling attracted to him.

  “If I thought you were beneath me, do you think I’d be sitting here talking to you like this?”

  “See, that’s exactly what I mean,” I burst out, sitting up and turning to face him. “Even if I were aware of someone being ‘beneath’ me, which as far as I’m concerned doesn’t exist, but if I thought he was less educated than I, or from a poorer origin, how can I . . . what would give me the right to treat that person with less respect than I would a university professor? Given the right education and opportunity, perhaps this person could have become a professor as well. Why can’t all people be given the same opportunity in life? I’ve heard that in America everyone has the same equal rights, opportunities, and that no matter who you are or where you come from, you are treated the same, that no one regards you as a ‘foreigner’ or different. I wonder if it’s true?”

  “Is that why you mastered English, so that you could one day go to America?”

  “My parents expected that I would make a trip there after I had finished my education, to see what the country was like.”

  “Well, aren’t you?”

  “Are you joking?” I asked hotly. “We’re not even supposed to speak the language, let alone think of going there. In fact, my parents made me destroy my American phonograph records just before we were attacked for fear of being labeled spies.”

  “You must have gone through hell for the past three years.”

  “Well, we had better times, but I still consider myself lucky, extremely lucky. You should have seen Belgrade after the three days of bombing. It’s impossible to imagine unless you have gone through it yourself—“I broke off. “I’d rather not remember.”

  The Lieutenant edged closer to me and put his arm across the seat behind me. He sat looking at me for a long time, not saying a word. I finally turned my head to look at him, to see his lips coming closer to mine, and when they were almost touching I suddenly turned away.

  “Do you really hate me that much?” he asked.

  “I don’t hate you. I just have too many painful memories. I just can’t forget.”

  “If I weren’t wearing this uniform, would you have kissed me?”

  I wished he hadn’t asked that question, because when our lips were so close I had wondered the same thing. He was quite handsome, and he had been so very considerate throughout the entire trip. We had been lying side-by-side in ditches together, dodging bullets together, watching together as people died, and sitting helplessly as others were left behind in fields or along the tracks.

  “You haven’t answered my question,” he said, searching my face for an answer.

  “I know.”

  “Can’t you just close your eyes and forget about the uniform?”

  “It’s not just the uniform. It’s what it stands for, what Germans all believe and how they look upon other people. How little regard Germany has for anyone else.”

  “And the fact that I’m Austrian doesn’t change anything?”

  “How can it? You’re wearing that uniform. You chose to put it on, and wearing it means that you agree with everything that Germany stands for.”

  “What makes you think I agree with everything?” />
  “Well, if you do not, then why in God’s name do you just go along with everything?”

  “Survival. If I did not—” He broke off, moved away, and turned the key in the ignition. “I’m sorry, I had no right. As you said, I’m a mass-produced factory object, and you are a person who has definitely not lost her ideals, pride, and self-respect. Please stay that way.”

  “Now you sound like my Papa.”

  “I wish I had met your parents. They must feel very proud and lucky to have you. Are you the only child?”

  “My parents . . .” My thoughts drifted back to Belgrade.

  “Yes, your parents. Your mother and father.”

  “Yes,” I replied. “Are we going to be in Peĉs soon?”

  “See the clearing just ahead? That’s the turnoff, and from there it should be only about ten minutes.”

  We rode the rest of the way in silence—my thoughts back in Belgrade, his perhaps back in Graz. He turned off the path and onto a wide road. A few houses began to appear. The town looked very welcoming with its lights coming on, the cool air and fog lending a wintry look.

  “It will soon be Christmas,” I said.

  “Yes, I wonder where I’ll be . . . and if I will be,” the Lieutenant answered, his voice dropping to a whisper.

  He pulled the car to a stop in front of a house just at the edge of the town. Only one light appeared to be burning, and we found a note pinned to the side of the door, fortunately written in German. “Be back shortly. Gone to town to get a few things. The door is unlocked. Just go on in. The tea is on. Rosa.”

  “She must be a very trusting soul,” I said.

  “I have heard that the people here are extremely friendly and trustworthy, that almost no one ever locks their door.”

  He opened the door, and we walked through a small but pleasant entry hall, into the kitchen to find the walls decorated with corn and dried peppers. A huge old mud-stove painted snow white was built into a corner. It dominated the room, radiating heat in every direction. Benches had been built to extend from the stove along each wall and were covered with small colorful pillows. A table stood on the left, one of the benches extending from the stove serving as seating on one side. Salt, pepper, sugar, and some home preserves stood in the middle of the table. A bench on the opposite side of the table held more colorful cushions. Starched red-checkered curtains adorned the windows, which flanked a door leading to what I guessed was the garden area.

  I sat on the bench opposite the table, leaning against the stove, feeling the soft, pleasant warmth spread over me. The Lieutenant stood for a long time next to the table, looking at me but not saying a word. Then he slowly approached and asked if he could sit next to me. That was something I admired in him. He was extremely polite and gentle; no matter what the circumstances, he never lost his Austrian courtesy.

  “This place is so cozy. I could stay here forever,” I said.

  “Yes, it’s very different from that palace her sister lives in. Maria married a well-known German banker and engineer, and God knows what else he was. They were extremely wealthy. The estate is still hers. It is only temporarily rented, but since her marriage to a German banker, she and her sister have not been close. Rosa, I understand, is a pure farm soul. At least that’s what I heard back at the estate.”

  “I’d like to have a kitchen like this when I marry.”

  “Could you have married me if we had met in Vienna and this war had never happened?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Don’t forget, my grandfather was Italian.”

  “That’s why you’re so nice . . . in spite of that uniform.”

  I looked at him then, afraid that he could read my thoughts. I suddenly wished that he would kiss me. I felt a shiver run down my spine in spite of the warmth of the stove next to me. Would I be destroying my ideals, my beliefs, my principles, and my pride if I were to let him kiss me?

  “What are you thinking about?”

  I felt a warm blush spread over my cheeks and neck, and I glanced away trying to hide my thoughts.

  “My name is Hans. Won’t you tell me your name?” he asked, almost in a whisper.

  “Asya,” I answered, also in a whisper.

  His face was now inches from mine, and he placed an arm across my shoulders. His arm felt like hot coals, the heat spreading throughout me. “Asya,” he whispered, his lips now only an inch away. I suddenly felt weak, helpless, and did not turn away. I closed my eyes as the whole room began to spin. I felt as though I were melting, my head going round and round. My lips parted from sheer weakness as his kiss began to burn all of me. I felt I was on a pink cloud floating away.

  My arms were resting on my lap, but now I raised them to embrace him, holding on to this wonderful trip on a cloud, afraid I would fall off if I didn’t hold him tightly. I felt as though his lips were an oasis in the middle of a desert, and I tried to get every drop of water, trying to satisfy a sudden terrible thirst. He moved gently away and looked into my eyes. His eyes had filled with tears, and it looked as though at any minute a tear would spill over and run down his cheek. I felt as if I were being gently put down on soft cool moss, delivered from my pink cloud. I leaned back and looked at him in amazement, unable to understand what had made me feel this way.

  “I’ll never forget this kiss,” he said. “Please forgive me. I just couldn’t help it. Asya. What a beautiful name. It suits you perfectly. I felt I could compose the most angelic symphony the world has ever heard. Notes exploded in my head with the most brilliant colors. I could have held you forever and just let the whole world go by.”

  He moved away then, lit a cigarette, and stood staring into space, not saying a word. I sat on the bench, in the same place, not moving, my eyes wide, not believing that a kiss could be so wonderful.

  “Are you angry with me?” he asked.

  “No, I wanted you to kiss me.”

  “You’ve never kissed before, have you?”

  “No. Have you?”

  “Yes, but it was never anything like this. I don’t want you to think I’m preaching, but a kiss like that could lead to a lot of trouble. It was a battle for me to stop.”

  “Why, what would have happened if we hadn’t stopped?”

  “Oh, Asya, please don’t ask questions like that. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about . . . or do you?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

  Steps were heard outside the front door, and the Lieutenant, now Hans, went to the door to greet an older lady.

  “Ah, I’m sorry I’m late. Have you had some tea?” Rosa asked, laying a basket and several bundles on the table. “You must be Lieutenant von Staate, and this child must be Asya,” she said, stretching her arms out to me.

  “Yes,” I answered as we embraced. “It is so kind of you to let me stay here until I can leave for Vienna.” Strange, I thought, that her German was so much better than her sister’s, when her sister had been married to a German.

  “We’ll have something to eat, and then we can look at some things I got. Maria told me your sizes. Oh, please sit down, Lieutenant. You, too, Asya. Just make yourselves at home. I’ll be just a minute,” she said, taking off her coat and leaving the room.

  “She is very nice. So are you, Lieutenant Hans von Staate. I’m very pleased to meet you,” I said, smiling.

  “It took us a long time to introduce ourselves.”

  “Yes, but just think. Now I’ll be able to look at the programs of famous symphonies being played all over the world and see that the composer is none other than my old friend Lieutenant Hans von Staate.”

  “It certainly won’t be Lieutenant,” he said as we both smiled.

  “I’m glad you don’t wear lipstick,” he whispered. “I would have had no time to erase it.”

  Rosa came back into the kitchen, wearing slippers and tying an apron around her ample waist.

  “Now I’ll get busy here, and it will only take a minute,” she said. “I prepared dinner ahead of
time. Nothing fancy. It’s just goulash. But the simpler the food, the better it is for you.” She looked like a mother hen gathering bits of grain for her chicks.

  “Can I help? Can I do something?” I asked.

  “No, dear, you just sit down and rest. But maybe the Lieutenant could take this bucket and get some water. You know, we have a well and it’s nice to have warm water to wash up in. I have plenty for drinking on the ice blocks,” she said, pointing to a small room off the kitchen.

  “I’ll be happy to,” Hans said, taking the bucket and moving toward the back door.

  I could hear the bucket being lowered into the well, then the creak of the chain against the wood and the slow squeaking of the wheel as the bucket was raised. I loved sounds like that. They always made me wish that faucets and plumbing and telephones had never been invented.

  “Asya,” Rosa said, “you know we do have a bathroom. Just never bothered to bring the water into the kitchen. It would take so much away from the beautiful, simple life. There’s just something about a well that I love.”

  “Funny,” I said. “I was just thinking the same thing. I love wells and simple things.”

  “But my sister told me that you are very well educated and grew up in a big city.”

  “Maybe that’s why I adore wells and checkered curtains instead of velvet drapes,” I said, remembering Jovanka and Mirko’s kitchen in Yaintse.

  Rosa brought earthenware dishes with a beautiful hand-painted design to the table, just as Hans walked in and placed a full bucket of water on the stove.

  “Here, ladies. I hope it will get warm enough for you to wash up.”

  “Thank you, young man. Now you just go and sit down, and I’ll put some of this goulash in the terrine and we can begin to eat. You know, the air is chilly, and the walk from town and the brisk air made me hungry. And just look at me,” she said, putting both hands on her hips. “You’d think there’s enough fat inside to keep me going for years. But . . . eating is good for you.”

  We all sat down on the bench along the wall, Rosa next to the stove, Hans between us.

  “Lieutenant, is it all right if we say grace?” Rosa asked.