I am so sad today that I cannot even be angry.
I am banished to my room & the door has been locked, & the key to my own bedroom is now in Masko’s fat, sweaty hand, which is humiliation enough! – and Damek is beaten and silent & locked in his own room in turn. That coward doesn’t dare beat me! – But today he ordered that Damek be beaten, and that sour old demon Kush thrashed him until the blood came & Damek never made a sound. But he was shamed, he was shamed in his soul, so that he wouldn’t meet my eyes even when I rushed to him, and he pushed me away when I sought to comfort him. – & now we are not permitted to speak together. That makes me sadder than anything, to see my dear Damek humiliated – and because he dared to outface Masko, to defend me against his foul, wicked words.
I wish I really were a witch. But I’m not a witch at all. I daren’t tell anyone, not even Damek: not being a witch is a worse shame than the mark of magic. I cursed Masko two months ago, and nothing happened: where are the boils & the wasting sickness? – each day I look in hope and I see no mark, not one single sign that the gods heard me and took my part. I think it is I who am cursed.
Masko sits all day in the drawing room, where he has taken down the beautiful paintings that my father set there and instead put up his vulgar daubs in cheap gilt frames, so it is now ugly & graceless. And there he drinks glass after glass of porter and gobbles his messes of pigs’ trotters & goose-fat pancakes, and all you can hear is his heavy breathing and slobbering; and then he gets on one of the poor horses, and he goes out to play cards. He is a poison, he makes everything around him vile. I see him looking at me sometimes, his sly eyes rolling in his puffy cheeks: he stares at my front in a way that makes me feel very hot. – Once when my skirts were hitched up to milk the goats – because I am just a servant now! Me, of the royal blood! – I turned around and there he was, not five paces away, and I knew he had been looking at my ankles, and it made me feel filthy, as if I had just rolled in all the dirt in the yard.
I think he is a little afraid, a little, that my words were potent and that he is cursed: and I think that is the only thing that stops him from following his eyes with his fat greasy fingers. I swear if he touched me I would kill him, I would drive even a butter knife through his windpipe, and I would stab out both his eyes with a fork – and it would so please me to see the blood splattering down his ridiculous shirtfront!
There! – I am feeling angry now. And now I am not so sad.
MONDAY
Damek still lies abed, but I was able to creep in this evening while Masko was out playing cards. He told me to stop crying, and that we should wait until we both grow up, because then we will take our revenge on Masko. He had on his black face when he said that! – He seems then as stubborn as the mountains themselves & as merciless. If I were Masko, I should be very afraid of him! I believe he would follow Masko into the very pits of hellfire itself, to exact his retribution. It comforted me, but all the same, it is such a long time before I grow up! – I might even be dead by then, and I would much rather see Masko at my feet sobbing & wailing for mercy right this minute. I said so to Damek, and he told me not to be foolish.
He knows my curse didn’t work, although he loves me too much to say so out loud. – Time will restore all, he said. If it were anyone else speaking, I would believe he was telling me to be a lady and to forget my anger. Damek would never say such a thing to me.
We are still young and we have no money of our own. Damek says he knows how to get rich. He thinks about money all the time, even when I laugh at him & tell him it’s vulgar – he just shakes his head at me and tells me I’m thoughtless & the only way to get back at Masko is to be richer than he is. But even if Masko were in his grave now, the king would not allow me to inherit the estate. Where do you find money? Damek will not tell me. He is very vexing when he chooses to be.
He still cannot lie on his back, but he is so patient & good in his pain! – Truly, he is an angel. Even Anna’s ma says so, and she never praises anybody. She’s even worse since Anna left, she’s all puckered up like a prune, but I can’t blame her for that. Everyone in the village says that Anna was only a daughter, and that daughters will always leave their mothers, but that shouldn’t mean that a daughter is nothing. In our house it has always been different, at least up to now; but I suppose neither Anna nor I had brothers, and perhaps were more loved – no, I can’t think of that! It is too painful.
It is very dull doing chores. I wonder how Anna bore with it all those years. I have to wear such ugly dresses: all my good clothes have been packed away. I wonder that Masko dares to treat me this way! Even Fatima says it is an insult. The people of the village still feel loyalty to the House of Kadar, and do not like to see the family honour smirched – and by such a buffoon! I do not understand why the king hated my father so, that he would send such an heir. What did my father do to merit such ill-treatment? He was a good man, the best of men; and he loved the villagers. I have never seen anyone so upset as when the vendetta came here: his face was white, and he struck his forehead with his hand, & I swear there were tears in his eyes, to think of all the sorrow that would be visited upon his people.
I know why the king hated him, although I do not like to own it. It is because of me & my mother. Anna thought I didn’t know what is said about me: if I mentioned it, she always talked about something else until I stopped asking. But I know. I see the fear & contempt in their faces, as soon as they see my eyes, and I hear the murderous thoughts inside their empty skulls, as clearly as if they spoke them. I know perfectly well that if it weren’t for my father, the villagers would drive a stake through me as quick as thinking. If only it weren’t the eyes! If witches had strange ears or an extra finger, I could hide those, or chop them off; but I cannot conceal my eyes unless I blindfold myself.
No one dares to say it straight to me, because of the royal blood: at least, until now they did not dare. Masko makes no bones about calling me a witch, and all but calls for my blood, and some cowards follow his lead: Johka of the Low Pastures spat and made the Devil sign when I walked past him today, & I heard the girls giggling in their hands when they saw me in my old clothes, which are covered in darned patches!
The humiliations every day are like burning coals, they scorch me to my very marrow. – But I pretend not to notice, I make sure I walk as proudly as if I were still a princess. Already there are those who forget to call me Miss Lina, who only a short time ago were plucking at my skirts begging to be noticed. I abhor them all – they are small, worm-minded creatures, & they deserve worse than the flames of hell. If I were God, I would lock them in a bathhouse for ever and ever. I can see them already, squashed together in a tiny freezing cold room which stinks of their own rank odours so they cannot escape them! – and I would set them to work sorting pins until their fingers bled and they were mad from tedium, and I would never let them sleep or stop working. That would serve them right.
I was afraid yesterday, when I saw Masko in the square, talking to the Wizard Ezra: my first thought was that they were plotting to kill me, since both would like to see me dead. Masko looked very nervous: he was bobbing up & down with his stupid lace collar flapping up into his face, so that if I had not been so anxious I would have laughed out loud. Then he glanced across the square and saw me there holding my basket, watching the both of them. I swear that he jumped, as if he were guilty, so I am quite certain that he was speaking about me.
Then the most astonishing thing happened: Wizard Ezra, who had his back to me, turned around and stared at me. He had his usual cold sneer on his face, but I refused to look away: and for the first time in my life, he met my eyes and nodded civilly, as if in greeting. Old Yiru saw it too – I saw him standing stock-still with his mouth open in shock! Ezra has never so much as deigned to notice my presence, unless it were to call me a wickedness & a walking blasphemy, or some such vileness. I was never so surprised! – I almost didn’t respond, but I remembered in time to make a quick curtsey and then went quickly
about my business, as both of those men make my innards boil with contempt & I do not like to be near them.
All the same, I take some hope from what I saw. I believe the Wizard Ezra dislikes Masko even more than he does me. He might refuse to countenance killing me out of spite for Masko. It is almost a good joke. Damek thinks that might be the case, but he tells me to be careful. I no longer have the key to my bedchamber, but now I put a chair under the handle each night.
I am wondering if it is true that I am not a witch. I am almost sure that I am not. – & yet it would be so unfair, to have all the appearance of it, & yet none of the power! If I am to be burned on a stake or stabbed through the heart, then I ought to have some joy of it. – This morning I was serving Masko his breakfast (and trying not to vomit at the sight of that repulsive face, his jowls wobbling like jelly & covered with little beads of sweat as he chewed on his fried kidneys) – I studied him as I always do, and I thought that he seemed a little haggard, as if he had slept restlessly, and I am certain there is a sore upon his lip. Maybe curses take a while to work. I don’t care how long it takes, as long as he dies as horribly as he deserves.
WEDNESDAY
Life has been so boring that I have had nothing to write about. I’ve been feeding chickens & chopping vegetables & running stupid errands for ever and ever. Mrs Anna has been kind to me, insofar as she can be kind: at least, she does not chide me for my clumsiness, or not very much.
Something interesting happened this morning. Mrs Anna gave me back my good clothes, and told me that I need not serve in the kitchen any more! Masko told her last evening that my “punishment” is over. He saves face: we all know it wasn’t punishment, it was to be my fate in this house. – I think the Wizard Ezra let it be known how little the village people admire his treatment of me. How strange, that my bitterest enemy should speak up for me! I do not trust the wizard any more than I ever did – I’m certain he wishes me no good. But I am so happy to be free from peeling turnips & shelling peas. I have cut my fingers so many times.
It is now two weeks since Damek arose from his bed. Until today, we were not permitted to sit together or even speak – he could leave the house but I was forced to stay at home – I watched him through the windows as he strode out & away into the plains, all alone – although he would always turn and look to see if I was watching through the window. This morning, I put on my prettiest dress and knocked on his door as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And then, as if he were already grown up, he offered me his arm, and we high-stepped out of the house like a lord & lady – I could barely keep my laughter inside me! No one made to stop us. Masko was still abed, snoring to wake the dead, and the day was yet early and fresh. When we were out of sight of the house, we ran & ran & ran until we were out of breath, all the way to our secret place by the river, and there I stood by the willows and looked over the plains to the mountains and the black clouds lowering over them, and wept from happiness.
It feels years that I have been cooped up in that house! – It was as if I had been blind & deaf & dumb, and all of a sudden God lifted the blindfold from my senses – I could smell the earth itself, and all the rich rot of autumn, and the seeding grasses, and the clean air sweeping down from the mountains with the rain on its wings. The colours burned my eyes, such rich ochres & browns & ambers & endless shades of green – and the sky was every blue there is, from black to the finest most delicate shade, like the shell of a duck egg – and the shadows stretching long and sharp under a lemon storm light –
Everything else has changed, but this place is constant. All my living is here, all my childhood and all my future – here Damek and I are the same as when we first found it all those years ago, pure and whole and free, and nothing mars us. It all belongs to me – and Damek belongs to me – this land and this love are mine, and they can never be taken from me – one might as well steal the blood from my veins! – Not even death will change that! – When I am buried, all these things will still belong to me, and I to them – I will be the sky and the rock and the trees and the wind, and they will be me, and Damek in all, because my heart beats in his breast and his in mine.
Damek says I must not speak of dying. He doesn’t believe in God or heaven or even hell, & he claims that death will simply be an endless darkness where there is no thought or light, & that the afterlife the priests speak of is a lie that makes us bear with the hell we know on earth, instead of seeking to change it. I don’t know why he thinks these strange things – he sometimes frightens me a little. There is only now! he said – and he took my arm and squeezed it so hard he bruised me. Only now! – and I cried out: Today, I will live for ever! – and I laughed at him and ran away.
Then the wind died down and we knew the rain was coming, so we must needs run home – the clouds burst halfway there. I was wet through at once, and when we arrived home my best dress was all filthy with dirt, but I don’t care! – It is too small for me anyway. Mrs Anna told me off roundly. Masko didn’t see us – he was still abed, and it almost noon! – He has been out late in Dardan playing cards with his filthy friends, & you could still hear his snores from the drawing room.
Mrs Anna sent me to my room for the whole afternoon. She said I should think about what it means to be a lady, especially if I wish Masko to treat me like one. As if it matters what he thinks of me! That fat slug has now lolloped out of bed – I hear him sliming down the hallway calling for Mrs Anna to make his breakfast. No matter what the king says, this place will never belong to him – never, never, never! He understands less than the smallest worm in the soil, because the worm eats the dirt and is part of it. Masko thinks of nothing except money. I don’t care what Damek says. Money doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all.
LATER
Now I am a lady again, I have to eat my dinner with Masko! – It is a sore trial. Damek says I must temper my anger so we might bide our time, so I swallow my pride. It is a good game! – I pretend to be demure & good, and he simpers at me across the table. He has bought a new frock coat, it is made of purple velvet and he wears it with crimson breeches. I never saw anything more ugly & absurd in my life.
APRIL
It is so long since I wrote here, that I had forgot all about it! I was crawling under my bed for a shoe and I found this old book all covered in dust. I am not so unhappy now! – Masko is a fat stupid sot still but we do not need to notice each other, & in any case he spent all winter away in the south. Even though I despise him, I wish he had taken us! – It is so boring here. He came back three weeks ago, but he mostly keeps to his room or is riding off to visit his acquaintances – twice they have come here for dinner & cards, but Mrs Anna makes me stay in my room – she says no good would come of those men seeing me. I hear them laughing & shouting – they drink all night! and last night there was a fight, and I could hear them rolling around and breaking things – but Damek said it was of no account. He says that Mrs Anna is right to keep me hid, and even as bored as I am, I have no longing to see any more of Masko than I do.
Nothing happened all winter. Fatima died of a putrid lung – it was bitter cold this year and she was old. There was no one to take the chickens, for her son was killed in the vendetta last summer and he was yet to marry, and so they were given to us. Her house is empty & sad and already the roof falls in. When the snows came there was no one to shovel the drifts away. She was a silly old gossip but it makes me sad – she never made the Devil’s sign behind my back when I was carrying buckets around in my old clothes, and she always spoke well of Papa, and few enough around here have shewn me kindness.
The snows are gone but it has been raining for five days. – It is so heavy that the river flooded and the lower pastures were washed out. – I laughed because Johka’s house was waist-deep in water & he was perched on the roof in his undergarments calling for someone to come and get him. It serves him right! – he is a mean-faced weasel and always was & he would have me a corpse if he could. Mrs Anna says the vendetta will
likely not touch him, he is last in the list; and it may be that the wizards will find a way to make a truce before then – they often do, she said, before every man in the village is dead. She says that the good are taken & the scum remain.
SATURDAY
Masko says I must give thought to marriage. – So that is what he is plotting! – he will marry me out of the house and so get rid of me. Damek says I am not obliged to marry anyone unless the king says I must, but I fear that Masko will crawl into the king’s ear and that will be that. Damek says that Masko will have a hard time finding me a husband, because all my estates have been stolen & I am poor. And also because I am a witch – no one knows that I lack the powers of a witch, not even Damek, because I dare not speak to anyone about this except myself. But maybe it is as well to look like one, even if I cannot curse.
I ran to the kitchen and cried & cried, and Mrs Anna patted my shoulder and said I am a deal too young to think of such things – I will be but sixteen my next birthday. Then Masko came in and Mrs Anna spoke up for me, and he was angry – he said I am full woman & ready to be paired with any man foolish enough to take me, and he pulled me out of the kitchen by my arm. I did not like him to touch me, and I told him so! He stared at me with his little piggy eyes and I did not like at all how he looked at me. He let go of me at last, but he was still close enough that I could smell his foul breath on my face. – And then he said I was soiled enough, with my bad blood, & it would in any case cost a mort of gold to get any man to even look at me. He kept staring at me – how dare he stare at me like that! – and I slapped his face. He didn’t say anything, he just put his hand to his cheek where it was red with the mark of my hand, and he kept staring at me until I ran away. He makes me want to be sick.
Black Spring Page 11
