Act XV, Hyperborea (Part 6)
six
"Stop yelling!" Yakov snapped. "Wash your face!"
Before they had run far, Yakov grabbed the distraught giant, ripped the earthworm off his nose and threw it away, then dragged him toward the river. The icy water splashed on his face, washing away the blood and bringing him back to his senses. "She's a witch!" he cried out as his first words of lucidity. "We should find a priest to exorcise her… to church now!"
“Fool,” Yakov said. “You’ve never killed a chicken, never seen chicken blood?”
"Is this chicken blood?"
"Otherwise what?"
"This is clearly a terrible potion; it can curse me!"
"If a bowl of chicken blood and an earthworm can curse you, then I can break this curse as well." Yakov casually grabbed a blade of grass from the ground and crossed it on Yakov's face. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, from this day forward you are immune to all poisons and impervious to swords and spears. You are the chosen hero. Now go to the city, and the lord's seat will be yours. Go now!"
He was saddened to see that for a fleeting moment, a look of surprise actually appeared on that honest face; fortunately, after a while, that clumsy and awkward brain was finally jolted awake by the cold and fear. "...It's getting dark, and it's too cold on the road." The big man muttered, looking down, "How could the lord believe such things? He'll definitely think you're a fraud."
"If I'm a fraud, then what about the 'witch'?"
The big man indeed fell silent, only brushing the mud off his trousers as he got up from the snow. He turned and paced back and forth, seemingly deep in thought, while giving Yakov a strange look.
"My name is Grikley." He suddenly extended an inviting hand. "Your family can't burn firewood tonight, why don't you come to my house for the night!"
Grikly lived south of the old mill, closer to the church and town. He had a home that most people in the world would envy: Yakov followed him into the cabin, where the warmth of the lit fireplace immediately enveloped their faces, and the aroma of fish soup from the pot on the stove filled the room. As soon as Grikly stepped across the threshold, his young wife put down their two children, climbed down from the fireplace to him, bent down to help him take off his shoes, and even brought a stool and hot water for him to wash his feet—but unfortunately, their fireplace was also billowing black smoke, blackening the ceiling and windows, and the children coughed every now and then.
"Where have you been?" the woman complained. "Look at you, all filthy!"
“I met a benefactor today.” Grikley patted Yakov on the shoulder and straightened his back. “This is Yakov. He has been to Roman cities and even seen the Holy Land of the Assumption!”
"Really?" His wife placed the warm bowl in his hands again. "Drink the soup!"
"He also said I was the chosen hero and would become a lord!"
No wonder you're so happy.
"He just moved here, and his stove is broken. Go and make a place for the guest to sleep!"
Yakov pursed his lips—he had never told Grikly where he had been or what holy miracles he had witnessed; he didn't know if these words were meant to boast or stemmed from genuine belief. From the moment he entered the house, he felt waves of awkwardness and discomfort creeping over him. When the woman came to him with a bucket of fresh hot water, intending to help him take off his boots, Yakov finally pulled away from her hands, his face darkening.
"Is this your wife or your mother?" he asked sarcastically.
"You...you're really offensive!" The woman straightened up in surprise. "Do I look that old?"
“I see. I’m so sorry.” Yakov stared at Grikli’s feet soaking in the hot water. “I thought he was just a child. He’s grown so fast that his brain hasn’t kept up with his limbs.”
Grik blushed and pulled his two wet feet out of the bucket; his wife, however, winked affectionately.
“It’s almost winter,” he murmured. “I work on the farm every year, growing wheat to feed Dalia and the children. But I don’t earn much; after paying taxes, there’s hardly anything left…”
“He’s doing well, thanks to God.” Dalia wiped his feet with her apron. “It would be even better if he could stay home and spend more time with people instead of always going out.”
“How can you broaden your horizons if you don’t go out?” Grikley retorted. “Maybe one day I can take you to see the Roman cities and make pilgrimages to the Holy Land! Yakov, what do you think?”
Yakov immediately objected to the far-fetched idea without a second thought. "Don't go, there's nothing to see here." But then, pondering the self-satisfied words of his family and recalling his own naive and foolish self before the trip, he quickly added helplessly, "...unless you're really determined. Travel isn't entirely without merit."
Grikry laughed, and his wife Dalia laughed too, along with the two children tumbling and playing on top of the fireplace. "Then you can be our guide!" Grikry put his arm around Yakov's shoulder. "Consider it repayment for letting us stay the night!"
Yakov was laid down by the stove—there was nowhere else to spend a whole night warm except for the stove top and the stove side. He leaned against the hot earthen wall of the stove, and just as he was about to close his eyes, he heard a soft, ambiguous rustling sound coming from the stove top.
Why now, when there are guests? Yakov thought, by next autumn, there will probably be another newborn. The couple finished after a long while, and just as they were satisfied and quieted down, their snoring started again, keeping Yakov awake. Suddenly, a furry thing crawled out from under the tattered cloth covering him—Yubi had transformed back into his naked human form, and without a word, opened his blood-red maw and lunged at his neck.
"What were you doing sneaking out?" Yakov pressed his hand against his forehead quickly. "Where's the ring?"
“I can’t bite Granny Vanella’s neck, nor can I steal her chickens!” Yubi’s eyes gleamed with a hungry red light. “I’ll go back and put on the ring after I’ve drunk the blood, don’t worry.”
Grandma Vanera? Shouldn't it be Grandma Yaga? Yakov thought, Vanera is an Ughur name, perhaps the name of that Chud man. As soon as he loosened his grip, sharp teeth immediately pierced his neck, causing his warm blood to flow continuously into Yubi's throat. When the vampire finally released his grip, Yakov finally felt too sleepy to keep his eyes open, and no amount of noise could stop him from falling asleep.
"Don't sleep, I still have something to ask you," Yubi complained. "My mother-in-law told me to catch ten live piranhas for her... I've never caught those before! Where am I supposed to find them?"
“□□, what do you need that for?” Yakov buried his face in the haystack. “Go look for it by the river.”
“Okay, I’ll try it tomorrow.” Yubi’s voice drifted into his arms. “You go to sleep, I’m leaving.”
The next day, Yakov rushed back to the old mill early in the morning to check on the new chimney. He borrowed an axe from Grikly's family, chopped some new firewood, threw it into the stove, lit it, and checked for any smoke leaks. Unfortunately, although his chimney didn't leak smoke, the temperature inside the room was almost the same as if there was no fire at all; the sleeping area wasn't warm at all—all the heat escaped instantly with the smoke. Such a stove was unsuitable for wintering in Novgorod.
Yakov had to pick up his chisel and break up the patch that had been built yesterday, letting soot cover his head and face again. He desperately tried to recall the ingenious craftsmanship he had seen before, trying to figure out how to build a sturdier and more efficient chimney so that the hot smoke could stay in the room longer. But today, only he and Grikly were there, and the work wouldn't be finished before dark.
"Why don't you just go back to the original one?" Glickman advised him. "Even smoking is better than freezing."
Yakov recalled Yubi's worried expression and simply shook his head. "No," he said. "Try again."
So the two had to carry buckets of water again, make clay pits in the ground, and smear mud onto the stones with their half-frozen hands. Grikli was very talkative, telling Yakov many things incessantly: the outsider quickly learned how often the village collected taxes, how often the church held its fast, and all the gossip and strange tales of every household.
“That Chude family originally consisted of three sisters, but now only one is alive.” Grikley pointed to the birch forest and cemetery in the distance to the north. “They don’t believe in Christ and practice witchcraft, so the monks dare not go there to collect tithes. It’s really annoying.”
Yakov recalled that in Jerusalem, pagans were required to pay an extra poll tax, even passing caravans and travelers were not exempt. What kind of tax-free opportunity was this? "Why don't you all just say you are Chud people, pagans?" He couldn't help but laugh. "That way, none of you will have to pay the tithe."
Glickley was horrified by these heretical words. "That won't do!" he exclaimed, making the sign of the cross. "Then we can't hear the Gospel, we can't go to Heaven!"
Yakov didn't refute him further—by now, he understood the true meaning of those words. A single pagan "witch" living on the outskirts of a village might be tolerable; but if an entire village became a haven for pagan sorcery, what awaited them wouldn't be missionary bishops and monks, but the iron heel of the lord. Sorcery, ultimately less useful than swords and armor, had become evidence of Christ's nobility and holiness. In this light, what was happening here was no different from what was happening elsewhere.
"What kind of witchcraft does she know?" Yakov asked casually. "Turning people into animals, cursing them with disfigured faces and blindness, and what else?"
“There are so many!” Grikley exclaimed, gesturing wildly and smearing mud and ash all over his face. “She loves to eat children, snatching other people’s children and roasting them in the fire; she can also make the forest foggy, and even the most knowledgeable person will get lost if they go in; I’ve also heard that her house can grow legs and run, and her broom and mortar can carry her into the sky!”
Yakov carried his bucket to the river to fetch fresh water—only one night had passed, and a thin layer of ice had already formed on the surface. Suddenly, as he gazed at the icy water, something occurred to him.
"Is there anything related to □□?" Yakov put down the bucket.
“□□?” Grik scratched the back of his head, getting his hair dirty. “...I heard she collects the mucus from □□’s back to make a love potion that makes her look beautiful in other people’s eyes.”
As he spoke, Yakov had already donned his wool cloak and set off along the stream. "You rest for a while and wait for me to return," he said, his voice fading into the dense foxtail grass. "I'll go check the other side of the river."
The river mostly flows from south to north, and Yakov followed its course northward. He first entered the grove behind the old mill, where pine, poplar, and willow trees grew together, and the air was filled with the scent of resin. Then, Yakov noticed that some tree trunks showed signs of being gnawed on, standing precariously, while others had broken and fallen to the ground. Finally, the stream turned into a calm, overflowing swamp, where many tree trunks and roots rotted.
When Yubi was found, he was huddled behind a patch of frosty cattails, his ears and cheeks red with cold under his fur hat. Yakov was furious at the sight of him, yet his heart ached with concern. The Blood Slave took a few steps forward, intending to shout a reprimand—"Don't make a sound, Yakov!" But Yubi gestured urgently, insisting he squat down, "Come over slowly!"
Yakov wanted to do as he was told, but the ice beneath his feet cracked with every step. From behind the cattail bushes, a furry, round animal noticed him, flapped its flat tail fin, and immediately sank underwater, disappearing from sight behind the ice.
Yubi reluctantly moved his stiff legs to his feet. Yakov noticed that his boots were soaked through, having stepped into the dirty, icy water. "What's that? Is it a 'fin'?" the vampire asked. "It has a fish-like tail and smooth, black fur."
“It’s not flippers.” Yakov stepped into the water and pulled him out. “It’s a beaver.”
"A beaver?" Yubi's eyes lit up immediately. "It smells like beaver!"
Yakov roughly pulled off his shoes and dried his feet with his cloak. "Yes," he said, a hunter's smile on his face, "we're really lucky."
"What luck?" Yubi curled his lip. "I didn't find a single [illegible]."
“Now is the best season for catching beavers,” Yakov said. “One beaver sardine can cover our expenses for a year.”
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