3.
“God does not send us despair in order to kill us; he sends it in order to awaken us to new life.”
—Hermann Hesse
The night guided the horsewoman, while the stars and moon illuminated her path. The Empress disappeared without telling anyone where she went…
In the morning, the adulterer returned from Lara to find that his wife was nowhere to be found in their home. He darted from one room to another, from the dining room to the guest room, and from the guest room to the children’s room. The family portraits on the walls and pedestals were gone. Even the smell of perfume had evaporated. The Emperor opened a gilded wardrobe. The precious stones on the dresses mockingly sparkled at him, but his wife was nowhere to be found. SHE HAS LEFT HIM!
“Find her! Now! That’s an order!”
The couriers took off to search in the gardens, parks and templets. But it was all in vain. The Emperor became furious, threatening to execute the good-for-nothing sleuthhounds, and only the kind little hands of his sons held him back from completing this senseless act.
The horse refused to go on. It looked at its mistress with moist, devoted eyes, begging for forgiveness. The Empress stroked the horse’s muzzle and kept repeating, “Let’s go, please, just a little bit more. Don’t leave me…” Perry blinked and tears rolled down from its lashes. The horse was saying goodbye. The Empress sat in the grass, which was wet from the rain, and no longer looked at her four-legged companion. She looked off into the distance. The foggy obscurity seemed less frightening than the pain in her heart.
Without turning back to look at the horse, the lady proceeded by foot, holding up the long ruffles of her dirty, sopping dress. She decided to buy clothing at the first peasant hut she would come across. Remembering something, she felt for her velvet purse, which contained gold coins and was tied at her waist. This would last her for a while.
The chilly jets of the autumn rain beat down on the wayfarer. She walked along the side of the road, trying to make out at least one hut in the vicinity. Towards the evening, she noticed some lights. Warmth and food were just a few steps away, but her feet refused to keep going. The Empress felt that she would fall down right there on the road, like poor Perry.
The night arrived suddenly. The lights went out and the wayfarer lost her reference points. She lifted her head to the sky and cried out, “Why, God?!”
But the sky was silent.
“Look, there’s someone lying on the ground…”
“Yes, it’s a woman. A wealthy one. Just look at her dress…”
“There’s much to be said about the dress, but it looks like the woman isn’t breathing,” said a peasant dressed in warm, decent clothes as he carefully turned the body over. “A pretty lass… at least she was…”
The second peasant bent down to take a better look at the unknown woman. He carefully took her by the hand and pressed his fingers to a vein on her wrist. It turned out that she was young and alive.
“Hey, grampa! There’s a pulse!”
The older man fell to his knees and put an ear to the woman’s chest. “True. We’ll have to take her along, Benson. Let’s take off our coats—we’ll put the damsel on them. You, Lance,” he said, turning to the boy, who confusedly watched what was happening all this time, “Hurry to the physician. If he’s still sleeping, wake him up and tell him it’s an unusual case.”
The boy nodded and nimbly ran towards the village.
The first thing the Empress saw when she opened her eyes was a hay ceiling. “I’m at a peasant home,” she realized. Images began flashing in her memory, which she struggled to escape. But they chased her… “Oh, no-o-o-o…”
Someone placed their fingers on her wrist. Then a warm palm covered her forehead. With an effort, the Empress turned her head.
A man sat next to her bed. He was young, tidy and austere. Kindness radiated from the bottom of his eyes, which made his face appear bright despite his serious expression. His long, dark-blonde hair was gathered into a pony-tail and fastened with a silk black ribbon as was customary among nobles.
“You’re a physician?”
The man placed his index finger to his lips as a sign that the patient was not allowed to speak.
The Empress smiled gently. She liked this man’s austerity ad confidence. She laid motionless, covered with a warm woolen quilt that was slightly prickly. The Empress expected a peasant woman to enter the room any minute, but no one did.
Without saying a word, the physician gave her something to drink from a clay dish and then sat by the window with a book in hand. The Empress tried to make out what was written on the cover, but the sunlight illuminated only the open pages, while the rest, including the man’s face, was hidden in the shadows.
“What are you reading?” asked the Empress, unable to restrain herself. She really wanted to talk and find out where she was and how soon she would be able to get up on her feet.
The man took his eyes away from the book.
“You don’t want to talk?” She supposed that her luxurious dress would put peasants out of their countenance, and that they didn’t understand who she was and how she ended up here. “Please answer me,” she insisted.
The man closed the book, placed it on the wooden table and slowly walked toward the patient.
“How should I address you, miss?”
“Missus,” the Empress nearly blurted out, but caught herself.
“You can call me Eliz.”
The man raised an eyebrow. He had apparently hoped to find out the stranger’s title, but was informed only of her first name. He took some time to think about how ethical it would be to address a damsel such as this as simply “Eliz”.
“And what is your name?” asked the Empress, coming to his aid.
At that moment, someone knocked on the door and it opened with a squeak. The Empress saw a young woman in a dark blue dress, apron and grayish knee-high stockings which had lost their original bright color.
“Good afternoon, madam. Breakfast is ready. Hot buns straight out of the oven and fresh milk. Shall I bring it to you?”
The Empress was taken aback. These people, who picked her up off the road barely alive, were waiting for orders from her instead of words of thanks!
“Please come here, dear,” she said, extending her hand from beneath the quilt and noticing the physician’s worried look. “Why are they so concerned about me?” she wondered.
The young woman obediently approached her, lowered her eyes and slightly bent her knees in a bow.
“Don’t bow, please,” the Empress sincerely protested. “It would be my pleasure to eat your breakfast.” She switched her gaze to the physician, looking for a sign of approval. He nodded. “I must be terribly hungry. And what’s your name?” she asked, smiling at the young woman.
“Katie,” the latter replied. “Your food will be here in just a moment!”
The Empress’ gaze followed the attractive hostess as she hurried away.
“She’s the mistress of the house, isn’t she?” she asked the physician, and then suddenly remembered that she still didn’t find out his name. “What is your name then?”
“Daniel.”
He helped the patient rise to a propped up position, placed a pillow by the headboard, and tucked her in. The Empress sensed the smell of hay coming from the bed. Indeed, peasants were unlikely to fill their pillows with swan down.
For a moment, the woman’s thoughts took her back to her home, where everything dazzled with luxury and cleanliness, but she quickly chased away the visions. Now was no time to be homesick.