Act XV. Hyperborea (Part 8)
eight
Yakov spent the night by the river. At the crack of dawn, the campfire, which he had added fuel to several times, finally went out. He had to get up and gather new branches. He sat by the fire for a while, ate something, wrapped his dried shoes in new moss, and put new grass on his head—but these camouflage tricks were no longer very effective. The beavers had suffered enough at his hands last night, disappearing at the slightest sound. Perhaps they had already abandoned this swamp, Yakov thought pessimistically.
But one of them was injured. Yakov found its blood in the woods—it was from a cut he made with his longsword.
The hunter relentlessly pursued the trail of blood, trekking silently through the cold forest. The trail would sometimes disappear into the stream, sometimes rise again from the bank, and along the way, he found bits of bark and young trunks that had been gnawed away. He didn't know how far he had walked north; his eyebrows and hair were covered in a thick layer of frost, and he was starving and utterly exhausted. By the time he finally found the beaver's carcass following the trail, darkness had fallen.
Yakov felt a surge of joy, but then his heart sank: How long had this beaver been dead? Was it male or female? Would its castor oil still fetch a good price?
He picked up the carcass—much heavier than it looked, fatter than a wild boar—and turned it over to examine its belly. Yakov cut it open with his knife and found its blood was still warm, steaming faintly in the snow. He didn't know exactly where a beaver's genitals should be, only recalling Eudosias's method of castrating piglets: in that pile of bloody entrails, there really were a pair of things that looked like sachets. They were wrapped in a thin membrane, neither frozen nor cut, and emitted a fishy, sweet smell.
Yakov finally breathed a sigh of relief, wrapped the treasure in cloth, and tucked it into his shirt. He'd ask Yubi about what to do with it later that evening, he thought. He gutted the beaver, drained its blood, and soiled a large patch of clean snow. The fur was thick and dense, and wouldn't get wet easily; it could make a better, warmer hat for Yubi, but there was no rush. Perhaps they should camp here and rest, then walk back along the river tomorrow. Yakov planned to gather some firewood.
He turned around and saw a pair of glowing green eyes flashing in the distant forest, and a terrifying, deep breathing sound that made the surrounding leaves rustle down.
Yakov knew that sound all too well: a bear, a fully grown grizzly bear, hunting for food before hibernation, eyeing him and the beaver carcass beside him menacingly.
Was he cursed by the dead beaver? Yakov couldn't help but recall an old superstitious tale: beavers always seek revenge on their killers. Without pausing, he tied the beaver to his back and turned to leave. Bears eat entrails, and Yakov figured it wouldn't follow, so he should stay and eat—that was his initial thought. He walked along the river for a long time, afraid to take any shortcuts in the unfamiliar forest, lest he get lost. Just when Yakov thought the beast had given up, the blood-stained breath would appear behind him, sometimes near, sometimes far, sometimes faint, making his hair stand on end and sweat break out on his back.
Was the creature too hungry, or too curious? Soon, the riverbank was pitch black. Yakov had to stop, gather branches to make a torch, and draw his cumbersome longsword. After what seemed like an eternity, he saw again the abandoned beaver dam and the waist-high cattails. It was close to the old mill, and there were signs of habitation; Kumamoto probably wouldn't dare pursue them any further. What if Yubi and he ended up living here, and encountered a ferocious roaming bear when the snow blocked the mountain pass?
Thinking this, Yakov noticed the wind on his face had changed direction. He made up his mind, roared, and flung the beaver away, pulling his cloak up over his head with his arms. "Get out of here!" he yelled, striking the scabbard of his sword with an even harsher sound. "Go back to your cave! Don't come here! This is my territory!"
Will it be scared off or enraged? Yakov felt his muscles trembling with tension, like an arrow on a taut bowstring, ready to be released at any moment; but it was too cold, he hadn't warmed himself by a fire all day, and he felt his joints cracking, and the blood vessels under his skin tingling and aching as if frozen.
The wool cloak, once torn apart by the beaver, fell limply from his head. Immediately afterward, Yakov heard a frenzied roar, and then saw the burly figure that had been following him rise like a human, its lush fur swaying as it lunged at him.
Without a second thought, the hunter dashed into the woods. He didn't even have time to remove the moss from his shoes; they were slippery and wet, and he was about to be overtaken in no time. Yakov turned angrily, brandishing his torch and longsword, striking the enormous, drooling head, wishing he could cut it down like an armored knight and fight it to the death. His victories were always hard-won, heroic and tragic. But the bear was far stronger than even the most valiant knight, and his blows had little effect, fueling his rage and resentment—Yakov suddenly thought of Yubi. Yubi used to help him fight and heal his wounds, but now Yubi was probably still in his warm hut, picking oats and rye—when would Yubi come to see him tonight? What right did he have to fight to the death? How could he let Yubi, before even having lain in the warmth of the fireplace, see only his foolish corpse, mauled to death by a bear?
For the first time in his life, Yakov saw a "cowardly" fork in the road open up to him. So he ran a few more steps and, in a comical manner, climbed up a "not-so-dignified" pine tree on all fours.
The bear circled under the tree for a while, sniffing and scratching, breaking the bark, but failed to break the thick trunk. Yakov awkwardly perched on a sturdy spot in the tree, grabbing pine cones to smash the bear's head. He saw the bear wait impatiently for a while, then sniff the beaver carcass he had thrown by the swamp—don't damage the fur, Yakov thought helplessly, "I'll eat the meat if I want"—but the bear seemed uninterested, circling back under the tree to guard him, as if determined to wait until dawn.
Now, Yakov's mind was no longer on the crisis, but rather he felt a deep sense of shame: he heard the sound of flapping wings overhead again, this time mixed with uncontrollable laughter.
"What a huge bear!" Yubi tried to sound surprised and worried, but the corners of his mouth kept turning up in a smile. He landed lightly next to Yakov, tilting his chin up with a smug look. "Do you need my help?"
“Yes.” Yakov felt the tree trunk digging painfully into his skin. “Just treat my wounds, as before.”
“That’s great.” Yubi healed all his small wounds again. “Go ahead, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Yakov wiped the sweat and melting snow from his face and adjusted his grip on the longsword. Yubi's gaze was fixed on him, watching him stand up against the tree trunk, scrutinizing his serious expression as he assessed the danger. Yakov pondered for a long time, remaining motionless as if frozen—then suddenly, he kicked the torch down from the tree. Not only the bear below, but even Yubi was startled—in the blink of an eye, he leaped down from the branch, sword in hand, landing on the bear's neck, the blade digging deep into its fur.
The bear roared and stretched its claws behind it, only tearing Yakov's trousers; Yakov roared back, as if trying to outshout the bear, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword and shoving it inwards. His blade struck the hard cervical vertebrae, the steel scraping against bone with a clanging sound that made one's teeth itch—hot blood gushed from the wound, blinding Yakov. His knees slid from the bear's rough fur to the snow, watching helplessly as the beast's life slipped away with each increasingly feeble struggle. It was as if his own long and enduring fear and anger had also drained away with it.
“…You don’t need my help at all,” Yubi said as she fell from the pine tree. “You only have minor injuries.”
"How could that be?" Yakov said dismissively, picking up his tattered underpants. "There's no need for him to lie to me just to make me happy."
“When did I lie to you?” Yubi said indignantly. “Fine, don’t believe me then.”
Yakov smiled with relief, grabbing a handful of snow and rubbing it on his face. "Now we don't have to worry about making a living." He glanced at the enormous beast beside him and the carcass by the river, then pulled out the pair of castor oil from his pocket. "Do you know what to do with these?"
“It needs to be smoked and dried immediately, then ground into powder before it can be used.” Yubi crossed his arms. “It has to be done within a day, otherwise it will stink and rot.”
“There’s no shortage of smoke at home,” Yakov joked. “I’ll go home and get some.”
"I want to go too."
"Then the Chu people stopped ordering you around?"
“…I’ll tell you when we get home.” Yubi took out the ring and slipped it onto her finger, immediately shivering. “Let’s go! I’ll help you carry all the prey back.”
Yakov made a simple, lightweight sled out of tree branches. Just carrying the bear and beaver up there left him and Yubi drenched in sweat. Luckily, they weren't far from the old mill, and the wet mud mixed with ice on the riverbank was relatively slippery. Yakov dropped the sled, leaned his aching arms against the door, and pushed open the door to the old mill.
"Even if my face is blackened by smoke, I just want to go to sleep right now," Yubi complained in a drawn-out voice behind him. "As long as it's warm, anything is fine."
Yakov entered the house carrying a torch and was surprised to find that the stove had been greatly changed: the sleeping area was now higher than before, requiring a ladder to climb; the firebox had been arched, and the flue had been connected to the ventilation opening in the wall. He peered inside and carefully tested the mud with his finger to see if it was dry: his fingerprints were not left on it. Two full days passed, and the new stove was completely finished.
“I’ll test the fire.” Yakov tossed the torch into the stove and added some grass. “Maybe we won’t have any smoke to smoke today.”
Soon, the fire blazed fiercely in the stove, illuminating the interior brightly and warmly. Yakov used a stick to push the firewood deeper inside, and he could vaguely see the thick smoke quickly flowing in through a hidden duct, as if being sucked in—Yakov then pushed open the door and went out. Smoke was billowing from the hole in the wall, not a single wisp of it letting into the room.
"Could that kid be a genius?" Yakov thought to himself. Grikley was truly wasting his talents as a farmer. If he had been born in Constantinople or Jerusalem, and was Greek or Saracen, he would have had the opportunity to become an excellent craftsman.
"It warms up so quickly..." Yubi, already covered in dirt, climbed onto the top of the fireplace, wrapped her coat around herself, snuggled into the middle of the tatami mat, and closed her eyes. "The fireplace is so nice..."
"Don't fall asleep so quickly," Yakov said helplessly, waking him up. "You haven't told me about the Chud people yet."
Yubi reluctantly rolled over. “I’ve been picking through oats and rye all day, my eyes are practically blurry from sorting them,” he said, leaning over the stove with his eyes half-closed. “Then in the evening, I made porridge for Granny Vanella with oats and fed the chickens with rye, just like you told me, right?”
“Hmm.” Yakov nodded.
“Grandma Vanella said the same thing. She said I had finished my work and done it well, and passed her three tests—but she also said that although the payment had been made, I was not allowed to stay there anymore.”
“That’s normal.” Yakov buried his head in sorting firewood. “Three nights should have been enough to fix any kind of stove.”
“Sigh, but you don’t know. She’s old, and there’s not a single part of her body that’s free of ailments.” Yubi shook her head, her hair sticking up in a messy updo again. “Not only her hands and feet, but even her head has several places where blood can’t flow through… If I’m not here, cooking, feeding the chickens, and cleaning will be a burden for her.”
Yakov looked up and stared into Yubi's eyes. "And then?" he asked.
“So… before I left, I secretly took off the ring and cured all her illnesses.” Yubi’s voice softened. “…Do you think there’s anything wrong with doing that?”
"You didn't turn her into your blood slave, did you?"
"Of course not—I removed her mark immediately after healing her. It was just a blink of an eye. She would never know it was me."
Yakov frowned and pondered for a moment. "Once is fine," he replied cautiously, "but don't do it again next time. Otherwise, people will think you're some kind of saint or miracle doctor, and say you've witnessed a miracle."
“She doesn’t believe in Christ!” Yubi laughed, pulling something out of his sleeve to show Yakov. “Look, she said this is her god, and she gave it to me to put in my house.”
What is that? Yakov took it: a round wooden ornament lay in his palm, like a wheel, like the sun—"She wants you to put this in the red corner," Yakov said. "What do you think?"
“What is a red horn?” Yubi asked.
Yakov turned and pointed to the small shelf on the corner of the table opposite the door. There stood a small icon, a gift from the neighbor he'd visited on his first day. "The red corner is where you put your faith," Yakov said. "The Chud and Finns also have these, but they put different things on them."
“Shouldn’t we put this on top?” Yubi suddenly took off her ring. “How about we hide it behind the icon?”
"Put it back on!" Yakov scolded him.
“There’s a whole bear’s blood out there that I can drink.” Yubi rolled her eyes and put the ring back on. “And you still won’t let me sleep.”
"Then you go to sleep." Yakov clapped his hands helplessly and got up. "I'll go do my work."
"What other work is there to do?"
Yakov pulled the pair of beaver sachets from his clothes. “I need to set up another smoking rack,” he said. “Also, I haven’t eaten all day.”
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