Journey 3 - The Fairy

Cumpene

It was about four o'clock in the morning when he heard human talk. There were two of them. And they were approaching. There was the trot of a horse. I wonder who it was? And where did they go off to in the night?

After yesterday's windy day, the forest was quiet again. It was disturbed, as usual, only by the creatures of the night. An owl fluttered its wings, frightened by the approach of humans. A laugh, out on the hunt, was lost unheard in the forest floor.

They stopped right at its foot. There were two of them, as he had sensed them from afar. An older but still strong peasant and a younger one.

- Is that Uncle Elijah?

- That's Spiridoane. I spotted him about three days ago, when I came with the wagon to fetch the wax to decorate the gate. You know my youngest, Irinuca, is getting married. A gentleman from town is taking her.

This tree is only good for pulling up planks to decorate my kitchen and the big house. It's hanging in the crawl space. My grandmother put a sack on it, so we can twist it a little... Give it here, so we can get a neck, and let's get to work, lest the sun get us and catch us, God forbid, protect and guard. Spiridoane, take the axe and let's begin.

That's it for me. Maybe I was meant to leave the woods and move into a house of househusbands. Spiridon puffed out his sleeves, made a big cross, spat in his palms, and the first blow of the axe fell on me.

- But what are you people doing here?

Out of the darkness of the forest a green-clad figure emerged with a gun on his shoulder.

I knew him well. He'd come by a couple of times to measure me with his forestry compass. Other times he stopped at my feet and took a clump of rabbit's foot, which he chewed with gusto. We were good friends.

- Elijah, Spirdoane, is that you?

- Oh, my God, Mr. Face, you've really done us wrong! Now what can we say.

You won't believe us if we tell you we're here for the handcarts.

- I believe you, of course! You've come to the sponges. Spiridon chops them with an axe, you, nephew Ilie.you pick them up with the goat and the horse carries the prey down the creek to the joagăr where you slice them up and make a stew. Isn't that right? Who gives the cream?

- Stop mocking us, Mr. Face. How come you're up all night in the middle of the woods? And how do you know us in the dark like this?

- So you've got it in the neck. He said he was cleaning the altar, in the holy church, when he overheard you talking to the priest about coming to the joagăr this morning to cut some boards. The Venetian's goat. The one who works on the table and the house in Pop Macarie's grove and at his holiness's joagăr. I'm talking about the new joagăr that the two German craftsmen from the city installed last month. You know it, don't you?

- On Guță? I know him, I know him, how can I not know him, give him the disease! I've seen him a few times myself. The babes are saying on the fence that he's with the old lady. Oh, their sins. Well, Mr. Face, what can I say? You've got me in the bag. Yes, we're human beings. You know me well. When it comes down to it, I don't haggle. We'll make peace. You know I'm related to the mayor. A little farther away, but they still call us family.

- I can't, Uncle Elijah. I can't. He came straight to the new postmaster. You know the mayor won't fuck with him either. Remember a couple of months ago he didn't even forgive Vasile, his boyfriend, the town hall secretary, when he started that fight at Ion Huțulul's tavern. He's got a big mouth in town. He told me to let you put the tree down so I could catch you in the act. He said to confiscate your horse too. I'll use my gun if I have to. But I know you're a good man. I pitied your white hair and the name you have in the village. You've only got that string of woods near Chetrosu. How did you get greedy for the good of the state?

- Oh, bad watch, mister.

- Bad watch, if you say so yourself. But before noon, you and Spiridon should come to the station and make a statement.

- But Spiridon is not to blame. He's my nephew from my sister Zamfira. He couldn't say no when I asked him to help me.

- Nephew, grandson, was also at the scene. Look, Uncle Elijah. I'll put in a good word with the postmaster. Talk to the teacher, you're brothers-in-law. Maybe you'll only get away with a fine.

Slowly, slowly, the voices drifted away, faded by the forest's emptiness.

* * *

The sun rose from behind the ridges, drying the dew beads on the blades of grass. At the foot, the bite of the axe filled with golden resin. A curious ant, perhaps attracted by the strong scent of healing tears, had caught itself in the sticky clutch. Perhaps someday, millennia from now, the tear would be reborn as an amber nestemate, as he knew his ancestors had done millions of years ago.