Juliet Marillier - Wildwood Dancing

“You’d do well to let me deal with the lower reaches of the Piscul Dracului forest as well, Jena,” my cousin was saying.

“Since I’ll be hiring men to fell the trees around my own house, 138

they may as well be put to work on Uncle Teodor’s land straight afterward. We could have the immediate area fully cleared by the end of spring. And the timber would fetch you a tidy profit.”

“What?” I must have sounded stupid. I had only just realized what he was talking about.

“My project, Jena.” Cezar’s tone held exaggerated patience.

“Rendering my property, and Uncle Teodor’s, safe from the ma-lign presences that haunt these woods.”

Your cousin wants a hand in everything. He wants control.

“You can’t do that, Cezar. Folk may be afraid of the beings that dwell in the wildwood, but I doubt very much that the people of the valley would support what you suggest.” I glanced at Florica; she had gone extremely pale. “Felling the trees over a wide area would only anger those presences. It could bring down retaliation on everyone in our community.”

Then, seeing the way Cezar was looking at me: “At least, that’s what most folk will believe. As Florica said once, if you give respect, you get respect back. If you offend, you get . . . retribution. Nobody will be prepared to work for you on this. Anyway, you can’t do anything here at Piscul Dracului without Father’s permission.”

Cezar’s mouth went thin, his eyes turned cold. “It offends me to hear such sentiments issuing from your lips, Jena. I will do you the favor of putting it down to your innocence.”

He means ignorance.

“Since you speak of offense and of retribution,” my cousin went on, “I must point out to you that there could hardly be a 139

greater offense than robbing a boy of a beloved brother. I’ve waited years to dispense due punishment for that. The trees are only the first step. As for workers, a man whose family is starving cannot afford to refuse employment on the basis of superstitious fear. Besides, it’s easy enough to bring in labor from farther afield: men who don’t know the peculiarities of this particular forest.”

The atmosphere in the kitchen had turned decidedly chilly.

Nobody else was saying a thing, though I could see that Paula was bursting to speak. I gave her a warning glance. We were all tired and upset; this was the time not for challenges, but for wise silence. Cezar’s friends had the grace to look a little embarrassed as they applied themselves to the food.

“Enough of this,” Cezar said abruptly. “Jena, I want to look over the accounts while I’m here. I trust that your sisters can keep my friends entertained?”

“Of course,” said Iulia, who had seated herself between R˘azvan and Daniel. Now that she had had her treat, she was in the best of tempers and making the most of her position—

smiling shyly, batting her eyelashes, and plying the young men with cakes. I did not like this new behavior at all; I preferred her childish bursts of giggling. Even Cezar was stealing glimpses at her.

“Well,” I said, rising to my feet, “let’s get on with it. I don’t imagine Daniel and R˘azvan will be wanting to stay too long. Florica, perhaps you could make more tea for our guests?

Paula, please come with Cezar and me. Bring a book.”

“Oh, by the way,” Cezar said as the three of us made our way up the narrow stairs to Father’s workroom, “I noticed on 140

the ride here that you’ve had all the fencing repaired up by the top pastures. I imagine you’ll be needing some funds to pay your workers. Who helped Petru with the job? It’s been expertly done— Jena? Is something wrong?”

“Oh—oh, no, nothing.” My head was in a whirl, my stomach churned. The fencing all done between last night and this morning? It was not possible. Petru had been working in the barn when I left on my walk. He had still been there when I returned. Besides, even with two or three men, the fencing job would have taken several days. Grigori? No, I had asked him not to risk his safety, and I knew he would not act against my wishes. My heart sank. Tadeusz. It was the only explanation.

But I had never asked for his help. I had not accepted his offer.

In the back of my mind, I heard his deep, dark voice: If you require proof of my good intentions, I will give it, Jena. “I don’t need funds, Cezar. Some travelers came by and offered to do it for food. I’m glad it was a good job; I haven’t had the opportunity to go up and check it yet.”

Once in the workroom, Paula seated herself at Gabriel’s desk in the corner, while Cezar and I took opposite sides of the table.

“What is it you want to see?” I asked him, reaching for the current folder of receipts and payments. My hands were shaking. I thought of Tadeusz and his pallid crew up on our fields, walking in our world, setting their elegant hands to straighten-ing withes and tying up fencing twine on our very own land, a stone’s throw from where I and my sisters were sleeping. I thought of them prowling around our sheepfolds. What if someone had seen them?

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“Are you sure you’re quite well, Jena?” Cezar was regarding me closely. “You look very pale.”

“I’m fine. There’s no need for this, Cezar. The ledgers are up-to-date and everything balances. There’s absolutely no reason for you to check on me. Especially now you’ve taken away the funds. There will be nothing for me to record until you give control of them back to me.”

He smiled indulgently, as if I were a precocious infant.

Then, as quickly, he was serious again. “I have something to tell you, Jena,” he said. “It concerns the priest’s visits to this house.

I imagine you can guess what it is.”

He had my full attention now. “What have you done?” I asked him, and heard the frost in my own voice. I could not look at Paula.

“I took action, as I advised you I would. I had a word with Father Sandu’s superior. Were you aware that these lessons were never officially approved by the priory? That your father made a private arrangement with this priest to tutor young Paula? Even you must have been aware of how unconventional such behavior was.”

“What do you mean, behavior ?” Paula was on her feet, shaking with rage. “Father Sandu tutors the sons of many families in the district, you know that. How dare you imply there’s something illicit about this? All he does is treat me the way he’d treat a boy student.”

Cezar gave a patronizing smile. His eyes were cold. “Exactly,” he said.

Arrogant fool.

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“Tell us!” I was holding on to my temper by a thread, and willing the frog to keep his thoughts to himself. “What did you do?” In my mind I saw the closed shutters of Father Sandu’s little house.

“I have not done as you seem to believe. I did not request that the priest cease his visits to Piscul Dracului. All I did was let his superior know what was going on.”

“You must have realized that would have the same result,”

I said.

Now the little smile was turned on me. “Well, yes, in fact, the good Father will not be coming here any longer.” Cezar’s tone was rich with self-satisfaction. “A decision was made to recall him to the priory near Sibiu. It happens sometimes: a priest working alone—in a remote corner of the country, out of touch with his brethren—can lose his way a little. I believe they’re sending a replacement to the district as a matter of urgency.”

Paula got up and, clutching her book to her chest, walked out of the room in total silence. Her face was sheet-white, her jaw clenched tight. If she planned to shed tears, it would not be in our cousin’s presence.