by Chris Mawbey
Janic either hadn’t realised this or had chosen to ignore it.
“We will follow tradition,” he said grudgingly. His smile and joviality slowly began to return but Mickey felt it had a forced quality to it. “The bride and groom will lead us out of the field. The village will want to welcome them.”
Chapter 12
Olga looked at Elena and rolled her eyes. The girl giggled though she was annoyed at her father. Most of the spectators had crowded around Marek’s now defunct body and so had missed the exchange between Mickey and Elena and her family.
As Mickey and Elena left the combat area together they looked, to the small group that had remained, like any other pre-wedding party. Any previous loyalty towards Marek had been swiftly forgotten as the assembled villagers cheered and clapped the couple as they passed. Mickey knew that any goodwill was directed entirely at Elena. Behind Mickey and Elena walked the Kovaks parents. One of these was forcing a smile on a face that refused to wear it. The other one couldn’t have wiped the happiness from their face at any price.
Many people had left the arena as soon as Marek fell and had already returned to their homes. A few stood in their doorways or on their balconies. Some called good wishes on the procession as they went by; most though just watched in silence.
Unseen by all but Mickey, Pester brought up the rear. It wasn’t his job to care about people or form attachments but he was becoming concerned about how things would play out now that Mickey and Elena had paired up together. Two different people with very different previous lives didn’t bode well for the days ahead.
Two more chairs had been occupied by the bandstand. Marek’s body had been cleaned and reclothed and was now sitting in the position that had been allocated for it. Ivan, the defeated claimant for Elena’s hand, had also taken his seat. A handful of people were crowded around him trying to persuade him not to be so premature and to leave his seat for its allotted time. Ivan was adamant though. Whether through the severity of his injuries or the shame of having been bested, Ivan had decided to withdraw from the village completely. Judging by the amount of blood that Ivan had lost and was still losing, Mickey thought that the man may as well stay where he was – he didn’t have a lot of time left.
When everyone reached the Kovaks’ house the neighbours who had formed the returning procession filed past to congratulate Elena and Mickey. They shook hands and kissed the young couple on both cheeks. Last in line was an old woman, the widow Banovic; by far the eldest of the villagers. She had lost the use of her legs long before the mudslide had consigned this section of the village to its living death existence. She was wheeled past Mickey and Elena by an old man who couldn’t have been more than a couple of years younger than the venerable widow. Mickey and Elena greeted the old man then Elena bent down to the widow’s level.
“Oh,” gasped Elena. She looked up at Mickey with tears in her eyes. “She has gone.” She then repeated it in her natural language so that her parents knew what had happened.
A few neighbours came back to confirm the pronouncement. It seemed that she had been gone for some time. Her eyes had already dried and her skin had taken on a greyer hue than those around her. The old man was beside himself with grief. Elena explained to Mickey that the two of them had been companions for nearly twenty years and now he was alone. Mickey gave the man a weak smile of condolence and thought that there would another one taking an early seat at the bandstand.
“Help me take her to the square,” Elena said to Mickey, as the old man was led, weeping into a neighbour’s home.
“What, just like that?” said Mickey. “No ritual or ceremony of some kind?”
Elena shook her head but wouldn’t speak.
Mickey took the handles of the wheelchair, turned the widow Banovic around and started a slow walk back the way he just come.
When the old lady had been seated by the bandstand Mickey spoke again.
“It seems so impersonal. No funeral, no ceremony, no fuss or bother.”
Elena shrugged then sighed. “It is enough that we are on view to everyone. Having a ceremony to say goodbye to people we will see everyday just does not seem right. We have enough reminders of what our fate is without dwelling on it.”
The two turned away from the widow and walked in silence for a short while then Elena spoke again.
“Besides,” she paused, battling with the emotion in her voice. “Our bodies would have been recovered from the mud and given proper burials by now. Why should we do it twice?”
Mickey had no answer to that. He reached out and gave Elena’s hand a gentle squeeze. She reciprocated with a sad smile. As they continued the walk back to Elena’s home Mickey noticed that Ivan had stopped bleeding.
Elena and Mickey climbed the stairs to the living area. The journey back from the village square had taken a long time. Mickey’s injured thigh was getting more painful and the bleeding, though not heavy, was still significant. Olga and three other women were sitting at the table talking. There was a pile of tinned food on the table.
“This is for you,” one of the women told Elena in their native tongue. “Widow Banovic has no more need of it.”
“No,” cried Elena. “That has to go to the store. You know we have so little food.”
“And three less mouths to feed; which will become four when you leave.”
Elena shot a questioning look at her mother, as Mickey shot a similar look at Elena. Pester just stood and watched.
“What’s happening?” Mickey whispered to his guide.
“No idea,” Pester said. “I don’t speak their language.”
Olga was speaking to her daughter.
“We have been talking,” she confessed. “It is best for you to leave. It is what you have wanted to do ever since we arrived here.”
“What’s happening?” Mickey asked Elena.
“This is Widow Banovic’s food store,” Elena replied. “It is supposed to go to the store where it is then shared out.”
“It is for you on your journey,” Olga interrupted. Elena translated for Mickey’s benefit.
“Thank you,” said Mickey. He turned to the other women at the table. “You are very kind.”
The women had no idea what Mickey had said to them but they understood the look of gratitude on his face. One of the women pushed a glass jar across the table and pointed at Mickey’s leg. The jar was filled with a green substance and was sealed by a thick scrunch of cloth, tied around the neck of the jar. Even from where he stood Mickey could detect a fragrant scent coming from the jar. He turned towards Elena in hope of an explanation.
By way of reply Elena thanked her neighbour, picked up the jar and told Mickey to follow her. She took him upstairs and into the long redundant bathroom. She searched through the cabinet, bringing out a bottle of antiseptic solution, some rusty scissors and a roll of bandage.
“We have to treat the wound in your leg,” she said.
Elena explained what Mickey needed to do with the green stuff in the jar. She tutted when she saw the look of horror on Mickey’s face and took control of things. Elena peeled the torn edge of Mickey’s jeans away from the cut in his leg, ignoring the wince of pain the Mickey let out. She took the scissors and began to open up the tear in the fabric. The blades were blunt though and Elena had to work the blades through the fabric. Mickey winced and swore as the action of creating the hole in his jeans opened the wound up further, causing more bleeding.
With the wound fully exposed Elena soaked a facecloth in antiseptic and washed the blood from around the wound. Her touch was soft and gentle. Mickey felt himself begin to stiffen when Elena slid her hand around the inside of his thigh to hold his trembling leg still whilst she cleaned the wound. Mickey was grateful that Pester hadn’t accompanied them into the bathroom. His mood suddenly changed when Elena caught the edge of the cut and antiseptic ran inside the broken skin.
“Fuck...ing hell,” he growled through gritted teeth.
“Sorry,” Elena whisp
ered. She glanced at Mickey’s face to judge how badly she had hurt him. As she looked back down she noticed the emerging bulge in Mickey’s groin. Her gaze lingered there a while. When she returned to the job in hand Elena had a small smile on her face and a glow on her cheeks. She took the cover off the jar that the woman had given her.
“Phew, that’s strong,” gasped Mickey. “What is it for?”
“It is a poultice that one of the old women created when we came over here,” Elena replied. “It slows the bleeding down. Your cut is long but not too deep. This should last you a long time.”
“Why the strong smell?” Mickey asked.
Elena stopped and sighed before answering. “Your wound will never heal. The strong scent is to hide the smell of decay when the flesh finally starts to rot.”
Mickey wished he hadn’t asked.
“This is going to hurt you,” Elena warned.
As if it hasn’t already. Mickey nodded, gritted his teeth and waited. Elena was as careful and as gentle as she could be as she opened the edges of Mickey’s cut and packed the pungent green paste into the wound. Mickey let out a slow hiss of pain and his emerging erection retreated as his thigh felt as if it was suddenly on fire. Elena replaced the flaps of Mickey’s jeans and tightly bound the leg with the bandage, securing it in place with two long strips of sticky tape.
Mickey’s thigh felt stiff and sore but he was able to put his weight on it without the sense that the wound was opening up.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“You are welcome,” Elena smiled shyly, remembering how he had reacted to her touch. “I have to wash this off my hands. It tastes awful.”
When Elena went downstairs to clean up Mickey went into his room. Pester was waiting for him.
“How’s the leg?” he asked.
“Sore, but ok.”
Pester nodded. “You need to get out of here now. I went for a wander round while you took the old woman to the bandstand. I found some of Marek’s friends. Now that they’ve got over the shock of what happened, they’re not too happy with what you did to him. They’re coming for you tonight.”
“Is it just talk?” said Mickey.
“I don’t think so,” said Pester. “You’re an outsider remember. They’re big on honour and all that round here. They’ll come for you, I’m sure of it.”
“How many?”
“Six.”
“Fuck.”
“Aye,” said Pester. “You seem to be a good fighter, but you won’t be able to beat all six of them without getting hurt.” He nodded to Mickey’s leg. “You’re already in enough trouble with that.”
“Yeah,” Mickey said reluctantly. Despite what Pester had said he wasn’t really a fighter. He’d never deliberately gone looking for trouble but neither had he been one to run away from it either. In this case though, he had other considerations. He’d promised Elena that he would help her. He wasn’t going to be much help to her if he was too beaten up to go on with the journey himself.
“I’d better speak to Elena.”
He found her in the living area, deep in conversation with her mother. Mickey explained what Pester had told him. Elena was angry that her neighbours had reacted that way but she was also pragmatic. She needed Mickey to be in good condition just as much as he wanted to be.
“What should I take with me?” said Elena. Now that she was so close to leaving she didn’t want anything to prevent it happening. She had reconciled herself to leaving her parents - much at her mother’s insistence and was ready to go.
“Probably just something to keep you warm at night,” suggested Mickey, even though the temperature didn’t change between day and night. “And perhaps a change of clothes,” he added as an afterthought. He didn’t know why he’d said that. It was just an assumption he had about girls and their clothes.
Elena either didn’t own many clothes or she had already been thinking things through. She was gone only a few minutes and had even had time to change from the summer dress that she’d been wearing. When she returned to the living room she was wearing light brown corduroy trousers and a cream coloured heavy cotton shirt. The shirt was on the tight side and emphasised her small breasts. Mickey felt fresh stirrings in his crotch. On her feet Elena was wearing a pair of stout yet old looking walking boots. In her hands she carried a lightly loaded rucksack and a thick jacket with a fur trimmed hood. The whole set-up made Elena look very young. But then Mickey realised that all of Elena’s clothes were at least two years old so would have been bought for a much younger girl.
“Where are your things?” Elena asked as she loaded the donated food into her rucksack.
Mickey spread his arms and grinned. “This is all I have. I’m travelling light.”
With Elena ready to leave Mickey held a hand out to Olga. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said.
Olga ignored the offered hand and folded Mickey into a hug. Mickey resisted for a second then wrapped his arms around the woman.
“Thank you, my friend,” Olga said, in broken English, when the two broke apart. She’d been practicing the phrase all day.
Mickey smiled and nodded. Then he turned to Elena. “I’ll wait downstairs.”
At the bottom of the stairs Pester was waiting.
“Janic has disappeared,” he said. “We should keep an eye out for him once we get past Marek’s friends. He might be planning something of his own.”
“Why would he do that?” asked Mickey.
“Retribution,” said Pester, smiling. “You’ve embarrassed and dishonoured him remember. He’s a small minded little man. He’ll want satisfaction.”
From upstairs Mickey and Pester could hear the sound of crying. A minute or two later Elena came downstairs. Her eyes were red and her cheeks damp. She had slung the rucksack across her back with her coat tucked under the flap. Though upset, Elena looked resolute.
“Let us go,” she said, without looking at Mickey.
Chapter 13
Pester checked that no-one was waiting for them outside. He turned back and nodded to Mickey who touched Elena’s arm and two of them left the Kovaks’ house.
Instead of walking diagonally across the square, past the dolphin fountain, they kept close to the houses. Pester continually scouted ahead to make sure that Mickey and Elena were not walking into any waiting trouble. They waited at each junction as Pester checked ahead for them. This way they out-flanked the gang that Pester had seen earlier.
They saw no-one else until they reached the edge of the village. The three of them were close to stepping out of Koprno and into the wasteland beyond, a step which Mickey and Elena wouldn’t be able to retrace, when Janic emerged from a doorway and blocked the path. He stood, feet spaced apart, slapping an iron bar into the palm of his hand.
“You brought dishonour on my name, stranger,” the old man said. “You did not show me respect. For this I will take my daughter back and marry her to someone who will respect my name.”
Mickey’s leg was still stinging from the poultice and he was in no mood for fucking about with this old fool. As he stepped forward he felt a hand on his arm.
“Do not hurt him,” Elena ordered. “He has his ways but he is still my father and I love him.”
This gave Mickey pause for thought. Despite the way that Janic had treated his daughter she still cared about him. This was something that Mickey hadn’t been able to claim from the relationship with his own father. He gave Elena a barely perceptible nod and continued forward. Janic lifted the bar in threat but Mickey caught it on the upswing. He easily yanked the bar from the old man’s hand and threw it aside. Without his weapon all courage drained out of Elena’s father.
“I’m leaving now,” said Mickey. “And Elena is coming with me.” He paused and looked towards Elena who was watching him with a little trepidation. Mickey realised that he sounded like both Janic and his own father. He softened his tone.
“She’s coming because she can, not because she has to. She’s co
ming because she has the courage to do what she should be doing - what’s right.”
These words seemed to diminish Janic Kovacs. The old villager tried to argue but couldn’t find the words. He chose to act instead and tried to rush Mickey reaching for his throat. The younger man easily slapped the offending hand down and sidestepped the charge. Janic tripped and sprawled in the dust.
Mickey’s anger flared and he dropped to one knee. “I could end your miserable existence here and now, you sad little man” he hissed. Then he stood and turned to Elena. “We’re going.”
Mickey shuddered inwardly at the venom in his voice. He didn’t mean to speak to Elena like that.
Elena hesitated then walked forward slowly. She knelt and hugged her father. She placed a light kiss on his cheek and tasted tears.
“Goodbye Papa. I love you.” Her own tears began to flow.
Janic tried to answer but only managed a croak. Elena stood up and stepped over the threshold of the village where she had lived and died into the wilderness. This act of finality evoked a strangled sob from Janic and he scrambled to his feet and made as if to follow his daughter. Mickey stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Go home to your wife,” he said softly. “Go home and take care of her for the rest of your days.”
Mickey turned and stepped out of the village, joining Pester and Elena for the next stage of their journey.
Elena looked back. Somehow the village seemed faded. She imagined that if she stood there long enough she would see it get thinner and thinner, becoming transparent until it finally disappeared. It reminded her of a story that her mother used to tell her about a magical kingdom that only appeared when the king was needed to right some wrong. Thinking of her mother made Elena try to take an involuntary step back towards the village. She found that her feet wouldn’t move.
“Tell her that there really is no going back,” said Pester.
