by Adele B.
Sword in hand, following Lina who ran up the stairs, he reached Livia’s room. She was lying as limp as a rag while Petros was hitting her wherever he could, like an animal. Edward desperately lounged towards him and with one strong blow threw him in a corner, dismayed.
Then he carefully took Livia, who had lost consciousness, in his arms and hurried towards the hotel at the end of the street. He carried her as he would carry the sweetest of burdens, precious, covered in blood and so weak - and a tear fell from his eye, a tear which he had unsuccessfully tried to hide between his eyelids. As he was hurrying through the street with unconscious Livia in his arms he felt like a character in a tragic, almost surreal play, with stunned people looking upon him, with the hotel seeming farther and farther away with each step. He smiled bitterly. It was not a play, it was his life, an act in the play of his life - and he had no idea how it was going to end, for it had not been written by him.
He opened the hotel door with some difficulty, holding Livia tightly; then he slowly and carefully crept in, taking care she would not be hit by the rapidly-closing door. Their arrival aroused curiosity and fear amongst the hotel’s guests and hosts; blood drops had left a long trail in their wake, on the floor and on the round carpet.
Upon seeing his Austrian uniform, the owner of the hotel saw him to a room where they sat Livia on a bed, cleaned the blood from her face and carefully covered her.
Edward took in her bleeding elbow, the wounds and bruises visible through the half-opened dress, and feeling scared, anxious, desperate, he sent for a doctor, for he had the clear impression she was more dead than alive.
Luckily, the doctor arrived in a short time - he was visiting a patient in the hotel and he passed from one room to another as quick as he could.
Edward tensely studied him as he delicately examined Livia. He was waiting for a good word, a positive opinion.
But now he could hear voices, swords clinking and heavy soldierly boots treading in the hall. He could guess who they were and who had sent them, but he was afraid they would scare Livia - so he hurried towards the hall.
Seeing it filled with Hungarian policemen, sent by Petros, he took out his sword, saying in a threatening voice; “I am an Austrian officer. You have no jurisdiction over me! Anyone trying to get near me or in this room will have to deal with extremely unpleasant consequences!”
The policemen retreated upon hearing his words; not eager to fight the young Austrian officer in the narrow dark hall at all, and not in a hurry to treat him as any common criminal either.
Edward returned to the room and gazed compassionately upon Livia. She had just awoken from her faint and she hid her eyes.
She was too ashamed to meet his. She felt degraded, numb and humiliated. She was no longer beautiful, she was covered in bruises and felt as if all the bones in her body were broken. Every move awakened a new pain.
Edward gently and delicately caressed her face, so lively and rose-coloured this morning, so swollen and covered in bruises and scratches, now.
“Be still; from now on I won’t ever let you go, we’ll be together forever” he softly said, touching her hair.
Livia smiled without saying anything, then she drew the sheet over her head. She did not wish to see or be seen anymore, she felt as if any moment now she was going to die.
# # #
Livia awoke. She had no idea how long she had slept; one hour, one day?
She studied the unfamiliar room. Her gaze slowly travelled over every object, from the door to the stove and from the wardrobe to the window. Then she started, her eyes fixed. Unmoving, Helga was standing near the window. She had her back turned and was looking intently outside, and although Livia had not yet seen her face she could recognize her – the wide hips, the strawy hair, the proud demeanour.
A few tears rolled on her cheeks, then she started to cry desperately hard - so the torment hadn’t ended, it was all beginning anew? Why hadn’t she died? Why was she in the care of this silent guardian again?
The woman, who had heard her crying, turned and hurriedly approached the bed.
“Good day, Livia, please don’t be afraid; I am here to help you! I asked the Count’s permission, and he agreed to my presence here. You are in dire need of someone, of a woman, near you, my dear child” she continued, while stroking her forehead carefully.
“Edward should return any moment now; he is still in the barracks. Then we’ll have dinner; I ordered lots of good things to eat” she went on as she was straightening the sheets.
“Thank you so much” Livia answered, with a grateful look. She had not expected anything like this from Helga. Even though they had spent quite a lot of time together during those long walks they both enjoyed, they had never spoken to each other, not more than a few essential words. They had never confided in each other, never shown each other the slightest bit of friendship.
It had taken a tragedy to mellow Helga’s heart, to make her look upon Livia with friendship, to force her to give up that impenetrable mask of superiority.
Livia finally was happy; she was not in the pink house anymore, she had escaped Petros’ ownership, she had regained her freedom.
Chapter 13
“Good day, Livia” Helga said as she closed the door carefully, holding a plate of biscuits in one hand. She was bringing in fresh cold snowy air.
“I have bought some biscuits and chocolate and I also found an old German book” she continued while setting the plate on a nearby table.
“Thank you, Helga” Livia answered as she smilingly studied her. Nothing was left of the cold distant woman in the pink house; she was a different person now, full of attention and gentleness. She felt grateful – three months had passed since that horrible day on which Petros had attacked her, and Helga had been a constant presence during all this time. She had taken a room next to their own, in the luxury hotel in the centre of the town. She was affectionate in the absence of the Count, and behaved discreetly when he returned from the regiment.
“You can start eating. I’ll go and find the janitor; I’ll ask him to bring some more wood, you are dying of cold in this room” Helga said, wrapping herself up in her thick shawl. It was the beginning of April, but the snow had not yet relinquished its dominion over the city; the thick stone walls, cool in summer and protective in winter, were colder than ever under the attack of wind and sleet in winter’s last convulsions.
“Then I’ll go to bed, I feel my feet getting numb; perhaps I should give up the evening strolls through the city, they don’t seem to agree with me anymore. I guess I’m getting old” Helga went on.
“Thank you, Helga” Livia replied. She would have liked to show her gratitude in some way, to share most of her fears with her; but although they had grown closer than ever lately, she still could not open her heart to this woman. She could not possibly tell her anything about her fears concerning Edward and their future together.
Closing the door after Helga she drew the shawl tighter against her shoulders; a shuddering fit of the chills had taken hold of her, accompanied by a sharp pain between the ribs. She headed towards the window, gazing over the large plaza where the few passers-by were franticly struggling against the wind, under the cold light of the moon.
Another window now, another house, another life.
She could hear the door open, the well-known, loved footsteps; she felt her shoulders encircled by delicate, long-fingered hands, she felt hot breath on the nape of her neck, and a long shiver ran through her. She covered his hands with hers in a natural embrace and they both stared out the window, as they often did. Just the two of them in the quiet room, listening to the wind shake the panes, strong currents of cold air sneaking in through cracks in the windowsill, making the candle flames flicker.
Slowly Livia turned and gazed long, greedily, into his eyes. She had him now; beside her every evening, every night, every morning.
During the day his duties kept him in the barracks, but the nights belonged only to her,
and there was no greater happiness than to feel his hands encircle her waist. He had taken her with him, saving her from Petros’s devilish hands, spiriting her away to a rich and elegant hotel room. And so, as one thing led to another, Livia had found herself living with the man she had so far treasured only in her thoughts, and whom she barely knew at all.
Now that they were living together, the pains she was feeling in her body were intensified by the doubts creeping into her soul; she had no way of knowing what his behaviour towards her was going to be. For once more she owned nothing, had nothing of her own. As with Petros, she did not have any money, she was forced to accept everything from him; food, clothes, a roof above her head. She planned to tell him she would try to find some work as soon as possible.
Now he had become his, now she had ceased to be just a dream, a desire, Livia was asking herself if, and for how long, his love was going to last. What if in a month or two he would decide to abandon her? They both were head over heels in love, and deliriously happy - but she feared it would not last, it all was almost too good to be true.
“Livia, would you like to go to the restaurant? And then to the cafe?” he asked, caressing her face in a tender and sheltering way, as if divining her thoughts.
“Of course; the weather outside isn’t great, but I’ll dress up warmly and as quickly as possible” she answered, giving him a hurried peck on the cheek, while all her fears melted under his gaze.
He was sweet, caring and very much in love.
They discovered each other day after day, surprised by how much they really had in common, how their tastes matched perfectly. Often she would start a phrase and he would finish it; they guessed each other’s thoughts and wishes, took care of each other, nurtured and pampered each other. Whenever they were together they felt they were finally at peace, like having reached a quiet port after travelling through dangerous, troubled waters. His arms were her fortress, they surrounded, protecting and possessive, and she felt utterly safe and secure. Embracing on the divan, or walking hand in hand through small streets, they were so happy that nothing and no one seemed to exist besides them, as if they were living in another world, separated from the real one and ignoring everybody around them.
They renewed their love oaths in parks and cafes, at the theatre and even on the ill-famed Bridge of Lies, which had already earned its bad name amongst lovers even though it had just been built seven years ago. Meant to link the Grand Plaza to the Huet Plaza, it was the repository of many a sad story, and lots of young girls believed it to be an evil-omened place.
Too many love oaths had been taken on it, and too many of them had been broken. Young cadets arrived from all over the country to enrol in the Military School disappeared quickly after swearing unending love to naive local girls, leaving them in tears, seduced and abandoned. The young girls had started to believe the bridge itself was cursed, hostile and malevolent against their short idylls – and had been the real cause of their broken hearts. Many of them had lived their first sad love experiences on the massive iron bridge, and they had nicknamed it ”The Bridge of Lies” as a warning to other young girls, not to be as gullible as they had been. But although Livia and Edward knew the story of the bridge, they happily strolled upon it while swearing eternal love to each other. They knew their love to be strong and sincere, and they wanted to challenge the so-called malefic power that the bridge was supposed to have upon couples in love.
While they waited for her divorce to be finalised, they would take long rides in the carriage visiting Sibiu’s neighbouring villages, stopping in modest inns to the great astonishment of the villagers, observing the thawing fields which would freeze again the next day, as if preparing for the coming spring. Sometimes Helga would accompany them, but more often she would refuse their invitation, preferring to give them some privacy.
In the evenings they would go to the theatre or a cafe, or take long walks in the streets of Sibiu. Edward tried to turn every moment into something new, just to distract her; in a few days they would have to be in court and he saw her growing more and more preoccupied each day.
# # #
Livia woke up a little unsettled, she had slept badly, thinking about the following day. It was a decisive moment, her one chance to sever any ties she might still have with the past, to begin a new life, a life with Edward. She was hoping that from now on she would become a free woman. Willing to hear the judge’s verdict, but at the same time anxious when thinking she would have to see Petros again. She still remembered his fists drumming on her body, his fierce eyes and his ragged breath.
She watched Edward as he slept peacefully, gazing for a long time upon him as she was in the habit of doing each morning. She studied his aquiline nose, his ample forehead and his red lips, she looked intensely at him until he started to move under her gaze. Then they both looked at each other, smiling, long, inquiring glances. They both knew that whenever two lovers stopped studying each other in this way it was because their love had ended. But they were still studying each other, morning and night, midday or midnight - as if they had just discovered each other for the first time.
Edward lazily stretched under the warm sheets impregnated with their body odour.
“Good morning” he told her with a smile. He drew her near and studied her intently, his gaze descending on the delicate curve of her neck, on the curls surrounding her temples, and stopping at her eyes - those eyes he adored, and who now seemed sad and concerned.
“Never mind, don’ t be afraid, I’ll be with you” he said as he was getting out of bed. They were due in court in an hour. He could understand Livia’s anxieties, but he felt he could control the situation, and meeting Petros did not make him feel anything but impatience; he wanted the whole thing to be over as soon as possible.
# # #
The courtroom, large and dark, seemed even larger and even darker now that it was almost empty. Petros was seated in the front row and he did not turn upon hearing Livia’s delicate footsteps drowned by the decisive, military-booted steps of Edward.
Holding hands, they sat not far from him, also on the front row. The judge started to talk in a severe, important manner but Livia was listening without understanding too much; she was unsettled by the look Petros had given her.
He had insistently searched for her gaze and then had flashed her a ferocious, hate-filled look. It was the only thing he could still do. He had been convinced to accept the divorce, the authorities did not want any scandal, Edward was both a Count and an Austrian officer and all the parties concerned desired the situation solved quietly and quickly.
When the judge handed her the papers, Livia signed with a trembling hand; she felt light and happy. At long last she was free again, as if breaking from under a spell or awakening from a nightmare.
She hurried towards the door, feeling Petros’s eyes burn her back. She hoped this was to be the last time she would ever set eyes on the person who had brought so much suffering into her life.
# # #
It was spring again. A magnificent, late April evening - Nature had stopped being indecisive. The warm, fragrant air, so pleasant after all the cold, was covering the damp earth, imbuing everything with a surreal atmosphere. In the valley columns of smoke rose from village fields, fragrant with damp leaf and vine smells. It was the time of general cleansing, both inside the houses and in the fields.
But a romantic, festive atmosphere reigned in the small village hidden amongst the rocky crags.
Wrapped in her ample wedding dress Livia was studying, from the fortified walls of the citadel she had chosen for her wedding place, the ferment of life in the valleys - a song of life which filled her heart, too.
“Charming, isn’t it?” Edward asked, who had quietly drawn near and was now gazing over her shoulder at the valley below.
“Magnificent” she answered, her hands covering his, which had encircled her waist. This was a fortified citadel, and from its ramparts one could look into vast distances, over fie
lds and hills - a scenery found in all Transylvania - fields and hills embraced by mountains, then other fields and other hills, lakes and waterfalls. Blessed land, where her love had been blessed too, and was now about to become official. She would be a wife again, but this time in the real sense of the word, to the man SHE herself had chosen.
She had fallen for this village in one of their recent trips, and without much ado they had decided they would hold the wedding there. Livia felt sheltered between the thick stone walls, as she felt sheltered in his arms, and the village, surprised by the honour befalling it - to host a Count’s wedding - had embellished its streets with candles, torches and dried flower crowns. Large vases filled with white roses, which Edward had brought from abroad, were adding to the celebratory atmosphere. An orchestra was playing in the citadel plaza, smiling guests were dancing, long tables covered in immaculate cloth were filled with all kinds of refined food.
In Edward’s protective embrace Livia was breathing in the fresh spring air; everything was perfect. The ceremony had been moving, with a handsome, emotion-filled Edward in the small intimate church; the service held impeccably by a young, passionate priest. Edward’s friends, both from the regiment and from Vienna, together with their lady companions, were all there. She would have liked to have her brother near in these moments, but he had been unable to come, because of his work. He had sent all his best wishes, though. She had wondered whether to invite her parents or not, but decided they had no place in her new life, such as it was now. Her mother’s presence would have brought back too many unpleasant memories, and this was the last thing she would have wanted on her wedding day. She had been married without her parents present, like an orphan - like Edward, only in his case the parents were really deceased.
