Act Two: Crossroads (Part 8)

eight

The next morning, they were woken up by Yubi and had to go out before dawn.

No one had ever seen a vampire vomit; it was a truly horrifying sight. Yubi lay sprawled on a crookedly placed fence post by the field path, Schumeer standing beside him, supporting him, his expression like that of a wrinkled old man. The vampire's vomit was dark red, vividly colored against the snow, like a terminally ill person weakly exhaling their last breath. Even Yakov couldn't bear to watch; he guiltily turned his head away, letting his helmet conceal his expression.

“This looks like someone has been murdered…” Schumer clicked his tongue.

“I told you I’d throw up!” Yubi said, panting as she tried to calm herself. “I can’t eat your food. I became like this after I begged the servants for it when I was little and secretly ate some. Don’t ever put blood in my eating bowl again!”

Yakov was using his shoes to cover the bloodstains with snow, letting the red hide in the black earth. It was the dead of winter, and he was thankful no one was out working in the fields early. "You should have told me sooner. Is this what I wanted?" Yakov said sarcastically. He grumbled inwardly, thinking how delicate and troublesome it was to care for a vampire. Ignoring Yubi's angry glare, he pretended not to see it and walked straight to the stable.

“You should say, ‘I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry!’” Yubi straightened up and shouted at him.

Two boxes smeared with horse manure tormented Yakov for a day and a night, appearing repeatedly in his dreams in fear. Seeing them still lying peacefully in the haystack, Yakov secretly lifted the cloth covering them. A sliver of golden light shone through the small crack, calming his mind.

“That’s a lot of money…” Schumeer’s hairy head appeared out of nowhere. Yakov’s hand trembled, and he immediately covered him with the cloth and pushed him aside. The Jew asked furtively, “Have you decided? East or west? Or…”

“Go east,” Yakov interrupted him.

“The east… it’s undeniably a risky yet flexible option. Let’s go for ten days, to Brasov.” Schumer scratched his ear. “We should make a list of what to buy at the market. Going east means you won’t have to worry about etiquette and disguises; we won’t need to buy formal attire or Bibles, and you won’t have to memorize the Templar code… but do you know how to deal with the Tatars? Going east means either bringing more weapons or more men. You’re planning to hire guards? That’ll cost you money like water, and in fact, most of the ones you can hire will be Tatars…”

“I know,” Yakov said. “I don’t hire people.”

“You seem quite confident,” Schumeer raised an eyebrow. “Shall we buy a carriage?”

"A carriage!" Yubi's eyes lit up. "Buy a big one, we'll spend the night in it!"

“The carriage is too slow and picks at the road,” Yakov said. “Besides, we only have one horse. The donkey is no help at all.”

He turned his head and saw Muse chewing oats, her belly bulging. The trough in front of her was mostly empty, while the horse that Yakov had brought just sat there quietly and obediently, unaware of how much of the good oats in the trough had not ended up in its stomach.

"Where will we sleep? In a hotel?" Yubi asked, puzzled.

Yakov glanced at him. "We're camping," he said.

"Camping!" Yubi's eyes lit up even more. "Then we should buy a big tent!"

Yakov said nothing, while Schumeer beside him burst into laughter. The sun rose again on the horizon.

They packed their bags and set off from the stable.

Beside a pillar at the village entrance, a ragged ascetic sat in the snow, tending to a small pile of firewood. The flames were growing smaller and smaller, and he carefully shielded them with his dirty hands, not wanting to lose his last bit of warmth. He had survived the night on this small fire alone; if it went out, he would soon freeze to death.

“God, how can I seek You?” he said. “How can I, in my humble state, sweep away evil, how can I dedicate myself to You? I am small and weak, God. I do not wish to do hypocritical things, to associate with the ungodly. God, please show me a clear path.”

He heard the sound of hooves behind him and turned around. On horseback, a noble hand with black fingernails offered him a clump of edelweiss, upon which bloomed a pure white snowflake. It was deep winter, and he wondered what kind of strong, brave, and lucky flower could survive on a branch. He reached out and tremblingly accepted it.

“We’re going to Brasov.” Yakov’s face was hidden beneath his helmet, which was emblazoned with a cross. He held Yubi tightly. “Which way is the road to the east?”

The ascetic opened his mouth, muttering to himself. "East, east." He looked at the rising sun, then around, and pointed in a direction with a finger as red as ginger.

"Thank you," a young voice said.

He watched the group of people, a horse and a donkey, waddle away into the distance, gradually disappearing from sight. Suddenly, tears welled up in his eyes, and he knelt down on the ground.

“The East!” he cried, prostrating himself on the ground, tears falling into the snow. “I should have understood! You have shown the way to the world, you have told us our duty! My God, I want to draw near to you, to become your saint, to become your embodiment walking on the earth! I want to go to the East! To that sacred land, to the mountain where you suffered, to seek your gospel!”

The sun rose slowly from where he knelt, and the faint sound of a bard's flute drifted over.

Tbc.