by Adele B.
He looked at Livia and he did not like what he saw. Her face showed the obvious marks of fatality, and there was nothing he could do about it; there was almost no hope.
“Good morning, Doctor! I don’t feel so well today” answered Livia, forcing herself to smile. She was not well at all, a strange weakness and an unusual sleepiness combined with a feeling of intense cold were plaguing her.
“Never mind, you’ll soon be as right as rain, it’s just a simple spring cold!” the doctor said while he was counting her heartbeats.
He examined her eyes and then asked her to open her mouth. As he was searching her face, trying to give the impression that her disease was an easy one and it was still possible to cure her - even though he clearly knew all this to be pointless - he was amazed by the young woman’s beauty. He hadn’t seem her for a few years. During this time she had turned into a magnificent young woman, and his heart went out to her.
“You need a lot of rest, Livia. I advise you to remain in bed as much as you can” he said while gathering his medical tools. “Good bye” he continued, avoiding her eyes.
“Good bye” Livia answered, although she wouldn’t have wished to see the old morose doctor drop by again; he had always been a figure of dread for her and all the other village children, when they were small.
Looking at her parents’ desperate and scared faces, she understood the diagnosis, whatever it might have been, was unfavourable to her.
But any doubts she might have harbored were dispelled when her brother unexpectedly returned home – now she knew for sure this was not just a simple cold. He wouldn’t have travelled a hundred miles and taken days off from work, had the situation not been really serious.
From the bed, she was gazing at him through half-opened eyelids as he was calmly and painstakingly transcribing some papers, seated at the table near the window. He had brought work for home, maybe this had been the condition the notary had imposed in order to let him leave. His presence made her feel maternal and tender.
Her dear brother, her companion of so many adventures and expeditions through the woods, where they raised shelters and strongholds to fight imagined Magyar enemies. So many warm, summer afternoons spent running through the enchanted meadows, accompanied by their faithful dog Grivei.
Sometimes Ilona would join them too, if she could manage to escape from the castle, on the jaunty horse she alone was able to control. They would then divide into two camps - it was her against George and Ilona. She would represent the Romanian camp, they would be the Turks. Whenever Ilona was present the combatants would silently be changed from Magyars and Romanians to Turks and Romanians - to avoid a real - life fight between the three of them. Ilona who loved horses, George who loved Ilona.
“George, would you do me a favour? Come near me, please” she said while taking a paper sheet from the nearby table.
“Certainly” the young man answered as he got up from the table. He had believed her to be asleep, and her voice had surprised him. “Tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it” he continued in an affectionate voice. He was overcome by the situation, he had no idea how to behave towards Livia - in the tomboyish childhood manner or delicately, as was befitting a young lady of rank.
In the last four years they had seen each other just a few times, during summer vacations, when she would return from college. He had no idea how to face death in her presence, he was desperate, he did not wish to lose her but was under strict instructions not to show his sadness. Everyone in her family had decided to hide the truth from her.
“Please go into the city and send this telegram to Vienna. Please, it is really urgent, hurry as much as you can” she said in a pleading but commanding voice. If her brother was fast enough, she might still have the chance to embrace Edward one time, one last time.
“I’ll leave immediately, Livia, don’t worry, all will be done according to your wishes” he answered, shaken, while taking his coat from the coat hanger. He had cast an eye on the telegram and had understood Livia’s desire. And he was going to do everything in his power to see it reached its recipient as soon as possible.
“Thank you, my dear brother” she told him while looking at him with tears in her eyes. She had seen the look he had cast towards the note, she had seen the terror on his face. Now they shared one more secret, but unfortunately it was a death secret.
Alone now, Livia studied her hand, tired even after the simple chore of writing a few words. She gazed at it for a long time. Frightened, she asked herself how long would it take for her body to turn into a pile of bones, for her flesh to be transformed into black, fertile earth, for her memory to fade from the minds of everyone who had ever known her.
As her powers dwindled day by day, she passed from desperation to resignation. The desperation of not having had a child to cuddle and hold in her arms. A pink, fat child, with eyes as blue as Edward’s. With difficulty, she took another sheet of paper and a pen from the night table. She was going to leave the fortune Agatha had bequeathed her, to Dorina. The money would help her stave off white hair and premature ageing - at least for a while. She would also leave a small sum for the village fool, so that someone might take care of him when he would be too old to wander the streets, shouting “Down with the Emperor!”
She tried to stay awake as much as possible, for every time she slept nightmares would haunt her. Vlad Dracul’s wife throwing herself from the rock; Petros and his horrid laughter; the tiled eyes of the Sibiu rooftops, gazing threateningly at her; her father writing her name on a fresh wooden cross, for who would do this if not him, no one else knew how to work the wood so well. It all was receding now, so far away, so faint.
She asked for another blanket; she felt a cold such as she had never known before, a strange chill.
# # #
From the train window Edward was gazing upon Lake Balaton waters.
It was calm and seemed to stretch forever. Except for the small Hungarian villages appearing on its borders from time to time, one could have very well believed they had been turning in circles for hours and hours. This lake was so vast that it seemed not to have an end at all.
He would have wished his heart and feelings to be as serene as the waters, but he felt his soul in turmoil, not as a lake but as a sea overcome by raging storms. He was feeling anxious and from time to time he would rise and look through the window. He had the clear impression the train was barely moving, and whenever it would stop he would mentally invite the passengers to hurry in getting on and off the train.
His thoughts were now on the audience he was going to have in the morning; he would try and tell the Archduke all, explain personally the Petros incident. He intended to demand a re-transfer to Vienna, for staying with Livia in Transylvania would prove to be impossible now. He also wanted to demand a pay rise, now that he had Livia in his charge as well, and was even hoping for the arrival of a child. He was hoping the Archduke’s feelings towards him had remained the same. He needed the benevolent old man’s understanding, he had no one else to share the burden of his strange situation with.
After the meeting with the Archduke, he was quickly going to look for lodgings, even a temporary solution - then he would hurry back to Livia. He could not stand to know she was far away, without him by her side.
But the train was moving much too slowly, as if not wishing to intrude upon the monotonous, sleeping scenery with its noise.
At long last the lake ended and an endless plain appeared under the placid evening sky. The train was going slowly now in the darkness, and at midnight it entered the imposing Vienna railroad station.
It suddenly stopped with a deafening whistle, making all the voyagers a little unsteady on their feet. Edward rose before anyone else did, saluted his fellow travellers and headed for the carriage exit.
He alighted from the train and a shiver shook him. He was tired and hungry, and the icy air intensified these sensations. Upon reaching the pavement he slithered hurriedly between harassed voyag
ers who were heading for the row of coaches outside the station.
He quickly walked towards the nearby station hotel, where he had already taken a reservation the previous day.
Elegant and sleepy, enveloped in darkness, the hotel was waiting for its customers while an odd-job boy was carrying buckets of food leftovers to the garbage bins outside.
Edward pushed the heavy wooden entrance door, went inside the darkened hall and headed towards the receptionist, who upon seeing him put aside the newspaper he was reading in a slightly bored manner.
He then said politely; “Good evening, Sir! If you want a room, I regret to inform you we are full, unless you happen to have a reservation!”
“Good evening, I have indeed, I made it last night, in the name of Charles Edward. It is for room number twenty-three” he continued, while taking his wallet out from the suitcase pocket. He wanted to finish with these formalities as soon as possible, to take the key and to retire to his room. He felt tired and a little ill, his forehead was burning, his eyes were smarting and he could feel a slight fever start to rise in his body.
“Oh Sir, I believe a telegram has arrived one hour ago; it’s from Transylvania” the old man answered in a suddenly preoccupied tone, serious and compassionate. The words of the telegram had had on him the same effect as on any other human being reading it; faced with the awfulness of impending death, any indifferent stranger turns into a condescending accomplice.
He bent and took it from a drawer, handing it over with a guilty gesture, as if offering Edward not a piece of paper but rather a knife stab in the back.
“Thank you” Edward answered as he was taking the telegram from the elegant old man’s hand. Just by looking at his face he had already understood all. The old man wasn’t a good actor, he told himself while his heart started to pound madly in his chest. He had a premonition that the telegram would bring news of impending death. He suddenly understood why he shouldn’t have gone away, why that disquieting sensation had hovered over him all during the voyage. Her soft calm smiles notwithstanding, there was a pallor and a tiredness on her face, as if her body had completely given up, all of a sudden.
“Please cancel my reservation, I unfortunately have to cancel my stay in Vienna too” Edward said.
The telegram contained just six words, but not the kind of words any lover would ever want to receive from his beloved.
“Come immediately. I am dying. Livia”
Watching the piece of paper he felt desperation, powerlessness, fury.
He felt at the mercy of Fate, which was throwing him here and there on a whim. Vienna-Transylvania, Transylvania- Vienna, as if Destiny wanted to play with his life, a funny, hilarious game devoid of sense or rules.
“I understand” the old man answered. “I wish you good luck!”
“Thank you” Edward retorted as he was heading for the door. Running towards the railway station he did not feel the hunger, the cold or the tiredness any more. He feared the train had already left the station, or that he would be unable to find tickets.
That year was an important one in the history of two countries; proud, magnificent Austria and vainglorious Hungary. These two countries were part of an Empire now; Hungary’s hostility towards Austria was at an end, at least apparently; Transylvania was included in the Hungarian territory. Between Vienna and Buda the traffic was intense. Politicians, lawyers, businessmen - and he was afraid he would not find a place on the crowded train.
He reached the deserted, desolate station, filled with that strange atmosphere all railway stations acquire late at night, after they have been emptied of the noise and agitation of voyagers. The train was about to leave and he got into the carriage just in time, as the long whistle of the engine was breaking the silent night into a thousand pieces.
He went in, saluted men passionately talking about political and economic matters, and sat in the only unoccupied place. He closed his eyes feigning sleep. His thoughts were in turmoil as the train raced through the night, leaving the city and the station behind.
This could not be true, not now when he had finally got a family, after dreaming about it for such a long time; after so much suffering and longing, he was about to lose everything. He had lost his real family once, in childhood, and as if this had been not enough, now he was about to lose Livia too.
Until her, the army had been his sole family, rigid and ordered; he had stubbornly endured all hardships, he had scrupulously carried out orders until he had become the Archduke’s trusted aide. And now, when the delicacy, purity and beauty of his beloved Livia had transformed these last few months into Paradise, Destiny was ripping her away from him, throwing him back into the endless greyness of barrack life.
Thought after thought raced through his mind, he could barely hear the fragmented conversations about harvests and taxes, money lost at the casino, gossip about the town’s adventures. All these conversations seemed horrible, now that Livia was dying.
He fell asleep in the end and awoke as the sun was high in the sky. Again the interminable Balaton lake. His arm was numb and he had an insufferable headache. He opened his eyes and saw that his companions, who had been incessantly talking all through the night, now sat quietly as if finding it harder to confide in each other in the full light of the sun. The two people in front of him seemed to be lawyers or doctors, now lost in their thoughts. As for the one on the right, there was no doubt. He was a politician, he had been talking continuously about politics and economics to his neighbour who seemed to be a tradesman judging from the ease with which he did calculations as he was expounding his ideas. They all avoided his eyes; even though he was trying to hide it, his dismay was obvious to everyone.
He had the impression the train was going much faster, or perhaps it was just a sensation of his, as he knew he was drawing nearer to Livia. He breathed a sigh of relief as it stopped at a railway station in Hungary. He hurriedly saluted the people in the carriage and headed for the door. He alighted from the train, headed for the ticket area, changed a few more times, for trains running through a few more railway stations and finally reached the small town from which he would start the journey towards Livia’s village.
He could see the mountains in the distance, and he knew that was where he had to go; although they seemed near, a stone’s throw away, he was aware the road was difficult, tortuous and long. He absolutely needed a horse. He had to find a horse.
In the small city where everyone was sleepily enjoying their afternoon siesta, the young officer desperately running through the deserted cobbled streets was an unusual sight. Women, attracted by the sound of his military boots on the pavement, looked with frightened eyes from behind curtains and open windows. What news was he carrying, who was this young man and why did he run in this manner?
Edward stopped at an inn and asked in German for a horse. The Hungarian innkeeper, not used to foreigners, hurriedly answered “Nem tudom!” The Austrian uniform and the young man’s desperate figure had filled him with alarm.
Another inn, the same reaction - this time the young, rosy-faced mistress of the place hurried to barricade herself inside and shout “Nem tudom” through the closed door.
Edward headed for the town exit hurriedly, towards the mountains, towards Livia; he was decided to go on foot if need be.
As he was leaving the town he was greeted by thick bushes and trees, small improvised houses surrounded by prosperous gardens. Amongst them he could see a sorry-looking inn, nothing more than a peasant house which necessity had perhaps turned into a makeshift inn.
But what really attracted Edward’s attention was the horse, tethered to a pole outside the house. He headed towards the innkeeper who, softly singing, was tending to his tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers and onions.
The innkeeper gave Edward a puzzled look, as he drew near and tried to explain, using sign language, that he needed a room to wash and clean up a little, and he also needed to buy the horse.
“Ya, ya” the innkeeper answered
, without understanding too much but willing to help this young lost officer who had been separated from his regiment, who knows why, and now was desperately pointing alternately towards the inn and towards the lanky, half-asleep horse chewing hay in the shade.
He accompanied him to his best room, the one he kept especially for distinguished guests - who unfortunately never stopped at his inn. He brought a wooden tub and hot water. From the officer’s gestures he had surmised he was all dusty and wanted to clean up a little. He watched him as he meticulously pulled an immaculate change of clothes from his small case. He headed towards the kitchen, for although the young man had not asked for it, he was going to prepare some food.
Edward felt the water refreshing his face and body, it was a real pleasure. Ha had been on the roads for two days, he could feel now an intense weakness take hold of him. He hurriedly dried himself, then put on clean fragrant linen and left the room. Not touching any of the food the innkeeper had prepared and set on a table in front of the inn, he headed directly for the horse. From his wallet he took a thick wad of banknotes which he placed in the embarrassed innkeeper’s hands; the innkeeper would have liked to tell him the nag was good for nothing, he occasionally would use it just to carry water. But Edward had already thanked him and jumped into saddle, galloping away to the great amazement of the innkeeper.
“Come on, my dear, please help me” Edward said while caressing the thinning reddish mane. And the horse, as if listening to his prayer, seemed to know the route by heart, galloping at full speed, avoiding holes in the road, economizing his energy on the slopes and running downhill like a ghost, while Edward stoically endured branches whipping his face and tree stumps hitting his shoulders as he was carried along narrow mountain paths.
Evening had already fallen, the horse showed signs of tiredness, foaming at the mouth and slowing down, when finally Edward could see Livia’s village amongst the hills. It seemed frozen in the darkness, no lights except for her window which shone like a beacon in the night.
