Juliet Marillier - Wildwood Dancing

Night People have left the valley. So you see, Gogu, I am being sensible. I’m following your good advice.”

I’m sorry, Jena.

“Sorry? What do you have to be sorry for?”

I’m sorry I cannot protect you.

Unease was plain in the frog’s hunched posture and the forlorn tone of his voice—the voice only I could hear. Abruptly, I was on the verge of tears. “Don’t be silly,” I told him, sniffing.

“Why would I expect that? It’s ridiculous. Friendship and good advice, that’s all I need from you.”

Put me on your shoulder now. I want to go inside.

“Jena! How lovely to see you!” It seemed that Aunt Bogdana was no longer too distressed to receive visitors. Her severe black dress accentuated her pallor and she was looking thinner, but her smile welcomed me as Daniela showed me into the sewing room. “Daniela, we’ll have some coffee, please. Come and sit down, Jena. I’m sorry I have not been out and about. It seems such an effort without Nicolae. Everywhere I go, I feel his absence.”

“I’m so sorry, Aunt Bogdana. I can’t imagine how it feels. If there’s anything we can do . . .” I seated myself on a little chair with an embroidered cushion. From the shelf nearby, Costi’s painted eyes watched me.

“And now there’s this terrible news of the miller’s daughter. . . . It’s as if a curse has fallen over the valley, a kind of darkness. It makes me wonder what we have done to deserve such ill fortune. And Father Sandu is gone. That was a blow.

160

It is at times such as these that a community sorely needs its priest.”

I refrained from mentioning her son’s role in Father Sandu’s departure. “Cezar seems to be doing his best to hunt down the offender,” I said. “They didn’t succeed last night, but I think he will keep going until they do. He’s very determined.”

Aunt Bogdana sighed. “To be quite honest with you, Jena, I’m not at all sure that is the way Nicolae would have gone about it. A blessing on the settlement and on the margins of the forest, the erection of a crucifix, those things he would have done. But this . . .” She shuddered. “It’s answering blood with blood. I fear for Cezar. I fear for all those men. One does not meddle lightly with the forces of the forest.” She cleared her throat; her eyes were on Costi’s picture. “Cezar, of all men, should know that. Ah, here’s Daniela with the coffee. Allow me to pour for you, Jena. How are your sisters?”

“They’re well, thank you. Upset by what’s happened, of course. Aunt Bogdana, there’s something I need to ask you. You must tell me if you think it’s inappropriate.”

“Go on, Jena.”

I stumbled through my proposition, hoping I would not reduce my aunt to tears or make her angry by trespassing on her grief. Aunt Bogdana regarded me over her coffee cup, not interrupting. She did not seem upset, only intrigued. “And so,” I said eventually, “I did wonder if we might have a small gathering, perhaps just a few carefully chosen guests. I know it’s not the best time, but actually it might lift people’s spirits. In fact, I thought the folk of the valley might see it as a good thing to 161

do. A gesture to show we are not afraid, that we are prepared to light lamps against the darkness. You wouldn’t need to do anything, Aunt, just advise me on how to go about it and suggest whom we might invite. I realize we should perhaps wait until spring, but—”

Aunt Bogdana lifted a hand, and I halted in midsentence.

She sipped her coffee, her eyes thoughtful. Waiting, I gulped mine down. Daniela hastened to refill my cup. Gogu had escaped my pocket and was on my knee. He made a sudden leap, landing on the arm of Aunt Bogdana’s chair.

“Oh, I’m sorry—” I began.

“Not at all,” Aunt said absently. “Now, Jena, this is a matter of balancing what is right for you and your sisters with community expectations. It happens that an old friend of mine, a lady with extremely good connections, is staying near Bra¸sov over the winter and is likely to have a significant number of houseguests. I think it is possible we might do something, as long as it is kept sedate. The season being what it is, we cannot expect folk to travel far. And with this new threat, it will be necessary to offer guests a night’s accommodation at Piscul Dracului—nobody will be wanting to be outside after dusk.

You’ll need to clear out your storeroom. It’s the only place where you can entertain so many guests.”

“So many?” I had imagined we might put people in the formal dining room.

“Jena,” declared Aunt Bogdana, evidently warming to the challenge, “there’s no point in doing this if you don’t do it properly. While you cannot expect to find suitors in one evening, if folk see you at your best, they’ll talk. Word will get about, 162

even in winter, believe me. By springtime there will be invitations flooding in for you.”

She had astonished me. I realized I had been expecting a flat refusal. “You think the guests will come?” I asked her. “Even with the Night People in our forest?”

“We can only try, Jena. As long as movement in and out is by daylight, I think we can achieve something. You’ll all need new gowns. My seamstress should be able to do the job, with a little assistance. When did you plan to do this?”

“I thought maybe at next Full Moon.” I imagined explaining this to Tati. “If that allows sufficient time to organize everything. I’ll work hard, Aunt Bogdana.”

“This is quite a change of heart for you, Jena.” My aunt’s eyes were shrewd. “If anyone had asked me last summer whether I would ever persuade you to show interest in such activities, I’d have said I thought it an impossibility until you grew up a little. What has prompted this?” She had crumbled a dainty biscuit at the edge of her plate; Gogu was investigating.

I gave her as much of the truth as I could. “Uncle Nicolae’s death; my father’s illness. We do need to look ahead. And . . .

I do believe in what I said before, about giving the appearance of being strong and brave. I’m as much afraid of the Night People as anyone is. But I think this would be good for the village, especially if we get folk involved. I would need quite a bit of help getting things ready.” I wondered how I might approach the delicate question of payment.

“No dancing, of course,” Aunt Bogdana said. “That’s a shame, really. Nicolae did so love to dance, and I know he 163

wouldn’t mind, yet it would be inappropriate so soon after. . . .

But I think we could invite the village band, just for some quiet tunes in the background. The men could do with a few extra coppers to tide them over the winter. And we’ll ask the women to come up and help Florica with the supper. That way we do everyone a favor, and if they’re all together they will feel safer after dark.”

“Aunt,” I ventured, “I’m not sure whether Cezar will think this a good idea. He has all our funds at present. He’s approving our expenses one by one.”

Her brows shot up. “Really? He can hardly raise any objections to this, as long as it has my approval. Don’t worry about the cost, Jena. Nicolae would have been happy to do this for you. Think of it as his farewell gift.” Abruptly, her brisk manner turned to tears, and I got up to put my arm around her shoulders. “You’re a good girl, Jena,” my aunt said. “Perhaps a little unusual, like poor dear Teodor, but your heart is in the right place. I’m all right, my dear. This will give me something with which to occupy myself. We can start the guest list now.

Daniela, make a note of this, will you? Judge Rinaldo, of course, and his son Lucian . . .”

I had never seen Tati so angry. When I told her we weren’t going across at next Full Moon, at first she thought I was joking. Then, when she saw I meant it, she shouted at me. I had closed the bedchamber door; I’d warned the others to stay away. Tati paced up and down, using all the arguments she could think of, one by one. We couldn’t have a party now, she 164