4. Consequences

Chapter four

Consequences

Mila

A week after Han's misadventure in Tsebol, I had the house to myself except for Marya Ivanovna. Han and Kyril Kyrilovich had gone into Selyik for the day on business, and I planned to take advantage of the solitude by working in the garden.

I stopped in the kitchen for some bowls, accepting the baked cabbage pirozhok Marya Ivanovna pressed into my hand and grabbing my gardening knife from its hook by the door. Stepping outside, I took a deep breath. The air was crisp and cool, a light breeze signaling the end of summer. Behind the house, in the sun, would be the perfect place to spend the day.

I stepped through the garden gate, scanning my plants for signs of unwelcome intruders. No bite marks were evident on any leaves, so the rabbits and deer hadn't found their way in yet. I set down the bowls and knife and bent down to pull a stray weed that had taken root near a patch of comfrey. I groaned as I did; if I grew much larger, I wouldn't be able to bend over at all. Marya Ivanovna would have to take care of the garden, or we'd have to hire someone from town. Otets knew what a tragedy that would be. I didn't doubt someone else could do the work, but I was protective of my domain. The garden was the one realm of the house Marya Ivanovna would let me exert myself. "A lady's hobby," the housekeeper called it. "It's not right for a lady to do the housework, but a bit of gardening to soothe the mind and make beauty creams is perfectly genteel." Nevermind that I was a farmer's wife. As a relatively wealthy landowner, Han was firmly in the category of "gentility" in Marya Ivanovna's estimation.

I refused to be confined to beauty creams, though. Taking a seat in the dirt, I pulled a small book from my apron pocket. The cover read Tonics and Remedies for the unSanctioned: a Collection of Blood Bastard Writings. Han had bought it for me before he left for the war, and it was my most prized possession. I opened it to a recipe titled "For the Reduction of Pain in Childbirth." The tonic was relatively simple to make, and I had almost everything I needed growing in my garden; Han had collected the final pieces for me in Tsebol after the harvest.

Chamomile flowers, rosebuds, raspberry leaves, and leckozht needles. The leckozht plant was my prized possession. Small and hardy, it had been cultivated by Blood Bastards to help combat outbreaks of Moon Fever throughout the country. It had proven ineffective against the plague, but its pain relief properties had made it highly desired. I used it sparingly—it was too expensive to use for every bump and bruise—but a childbirth tonic seemed a reasonable use for the precious plant.

Once I had gathered all the supplies for my tonic, I moved back to the rosebush. I was running low on rosewater, and I wanted a large supply to get through the winter. I took the most suitable blossoms and placed them in a bowl, then turned to the comfrey. With all the injuries Han formed wrestling with Yakov or working in the field, I was always in need of more comfrey ointment.

Hoofbeats sounded nearby. I looked up, frowning. It wasn't even midday yet. Han couldn't be returning from Selyik already. Likely it was travelers stopping in for a drink. Marya Ivanovna would give them what they needed and send them on their way. I went back to my gardening.

A moment later, I heard a knock, followed by voices at the front of the house. A few moments later, the door to the kitchen opened behind me.

"Mila Dmitrievna?" I turned to see an unusually flustered-looking Marya Ivanovna. "There's a few men here asking to speak to Han Antonovich. A nobleman and two soldiers."

Soldiers. My heart leapt to my throat. They couldn't be here because of the fight in Tsebol. Could they?

"I'll be right in," I told the housekeeper, keeping my voice measured despite the racing of my heart.

I stopped in the kitchen to clean myself up, taking deep even breaths to calm my nerves. They couldn't know it had been Han and Yakov in the inn. There were dozens of survivors of Barbezht. They had to be here for some other reason.

I adjusted my kokoshnik and walked into the sitting room.

Two of the men, both short and stocky, wore red and black kaftans. Soldiers, like Marya Ivanovna had said. The third man was taller, his clothing made of expensive silk, though dust and sweat stained his shirt. His hair and beard were orange, and his heat-reddened face was set in a scowl. I twisted my hands in my skirt to stop them from shaking and made a bow.

"Can I help you, my lord? Sirs?" Thank Otets, my voice sounded almost calm.

The nobleman looked me up and down. "Where's your husband?"

"My husband is in Tsebol for market until tomorrow," I lied, praying Han would stay in Selyik until they left. "I'm sorry you missed him."

The two soldiers shared a doubting look as the nobleman cocked a brow. "Is that so?"

"Yes, but I would be happy to tell him you called. I'm certain he'll contact you as soon as he returns, my lord of…?"

"Arick." He took a seat on the divan without being offered. The two soldiers remained standing. "I take it he didn't tell you of his criminal activity the last time he was in the city."

My mouth fell open. He knew about the fight in the inn.

This couldn't be happening.

I closed my mouth and swallowed hard. "I—I beg your pardon, my lord?"

"Your husband is one of the traitors of Barbezht, yes?" When I opened my mouth to answer, he waved a hand. "Don't bother to lie. He's lucky I wasn't in Tsebol that night. I arrived the next day, and I've had a hell of a time trying to find him since. He attacked the tsar's men. You're aware that's a hanging offense?"

I had to stop him from finding Han. Thinking quickly, I said, "My lord, I—" I let a few tears leak from my eyes, a task which didn't take much effort, given the fragile state of my emotions. "I didn't know. He's been gone for over a week. He—" I shook my head. "Please forgive me for lying, my lord. When he didn't return from market last week, I assumed he was in trouble, but I had no idea he'd done something so heinous." Please, Otets, keep Han away from the house until they leave.

The nobleman watched me impassively, tugging at his beard. "Is that so?"

I nodded frantically. He had to believe me. "If you'll leave your address, my lord, I'll be sure to contact you if he returns."

He stood, and I held my breath. Would he believe me? He stepped closer, holding my gaze.

He smacked my face. I tasted blood.

No. No. He hadn't believed me. Ears ringing, I touched a hand to my stinging cheek. "My lord?"

"Lying bitch. Do you honestly think I'm stupid enough to believe that shit?"

"Mila Dmitrievna?" Marya Ivanovna stood in the doorway, looking between me and the nobleman.

"Where is he?" he snarled.

I glanced nervously at the soldiers, who had both stepped closer. "I told you, my lord. I haven't seen him." This was getting out of hand. I had to get them out, before he turned truly violent. My chin quivered, but I raised my chin and looked into his eyes. "I believe you need to leave."

"I don't believe I will. It seems to me you and your husband both need to be taught a lesson."

"You are no longer welcome here. Leave my home this instant, or I will be making a complaint to the baron." I realized, belatedly, that I didn't know this man's title. For all I knew, he could outrank Lord Ilya.

The nobleman grinned, baring his teeth. "Oh, I hope you do. I would relish the opportunity to expose Ilya Sergeyevich for the traitor he is."

Marya Ivanovna stepped forward. "My mistress has asked you to leave."

"Shut up," he snapped.

She moved to stand in front of me, eyes fixed on him. "Mila Dmitrievna, why don't you go on to visit Anna Ilynichna until these men have gone?"

He grabbed her headscarf and shoved her out of the way. "Shut her up," he barked at the soldiers. They each grabbed an arm, and one of the men put a hand over her mouth.

The nobleman turned back to me. "Now, I'm going to give you a choice. You tell me where I can find the traitors of Barbezht that attacked my soldiers, or I'll kill your housekeeper."

Marya Ivanovna shook her head, eyes wide in warning.

"What's it to be, girl?" He drew a dagger from the sheath at his side.

My heart raced. Marya Ivanovna's life or Han's. An impossible choice.

Han wouldn't thank me for protecting him. Not at the cost of someone else.

Stomach in knots, I hung my head. "He's in Selyik," I whispered.

"What was that?"

"He's in Selyik," I said, louder. "He'll be back this evening."

He nodded. "Good." He turned to Marya Ivanovna and sliced the dagger across her throat.

I screamed, bile filling my throat. The housekeeper's body fell, blood pooling across the floorboards.

He ignored my scream. "I'd rather not spend all day waiting for your husband to return. I've already spent enough time hunting the bastard down. He has to be punished, of course, but I'm not wasting the rest of my day waiting to arrest him. I'll just have to send him a message instead."

He took a step toward me, and I backed into the wall, hands over my belly. The baby. I had to protect the baby.

He grabbed my shirt in both hands and tore it, baring me down to the waist. I jerked away, scrambling to cover myself, and my foot caught on the rug. I slipped, landing in Marya Ivanovna's blood as he kicked me.

I curled up into a ball. Keep the baby safe. That was all that mattered. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream. I looked up at the soldiers, silently begging for help, but they watched with hostile grins on their faces. One yanked my kokoshnik off and dragged me to my feet.

"Please," I gasped. The nobleman smacked me again, knocking me onto the divan.

The two soldiers tugged and tore at my clothing until I was naked before them, bruised and bleeding. I curled into myself again, shielding my stomach. They could hurt me, but not my son. Otets, shield him.

"Now," the nobleman looked down at me with hatred in his eyes, "I'm going to show you what happens when you defy the tsar's men."

***

Gone. They were gone.

Everything hurt.

Han would be back soon. He couldn't find out.

I struggled to my feet. I needed to burn my clothes. I couldn't let him see. He'd blame himself.

The kitchen fire was still burning from earlier, when Marya Ivanovna had made our breakfast kasha. I added the wood and put my torn sarafan on top. The dress caught quickly, despite the blood-soaked fabric.

Clean. I had to clean the sitting room. Han couldn't see the sitting room.

The muscles in my stomach clenched, making me cry out. I had to be more careful how I moved. I didn't want to hurt the baby.

I stepped into the sitting room. Marya Ivanovna. What would I do with the body? Han couldn't see Marya Ivanovna's body.

I'd have to drag it outside. Back to the garden. Kyril Kyrilovich could do something with it afterward. He loved Han. He wouldn't let Han find out.

I grabbed an arm and dragged the body through the kitchen. It was so heavy. My stomach clenched with the movement, and I doubled over. It hurt so much. They must have bruised something in my stomach.

The muscles relaxed again, and I pulled my load harder. I had to get it out before Han came back.

Too slowly, I made it to my garden. He wouldn't look out here. I pushed the body out the door and turned back.

A trail of blood led through the house. I had to clean it. He couldn't see the blood. He'd know something had happened.

Marya Ivanovna had left the dishwater in the big wooden tub. I upended it on the kitchen floor, turning the crimson blood pink.

Rags. I needed rags. Where did we keep the rags?

I found a pile in the corner. They weren't clean, but they would have to do. I started scrubbing the floor. Han would be home for supper. I had to finish before then.

A sound came from the front of the house. Han? I froze. He couldn't find out.

A scream, then a pause. A trembling voice asked, "Hello?"

Not Han. Yegor Miloshovich's grandson. He worked in the stable twice a week. What was his name? I couldn't focus.

"Is anyone here?" the boy called.

I opened my mouth to answer, but my stomach clenched again. The words became a scream.

Quick footsteps sounded, and the boy came into the kitchen.

As the clenching stopped, I realized I was naked. I needed to cover myself, not let the boy see me naked, but I had to finish cleaning before Han returned.

"You're hurt!"

"Not my blood." I kept scrubbing. I had to finish.

The boy stood in the doorway, eyes wide and face ashen. "Han Antonovich is in Selyik, right? I'll go find him."

"No!" Han couldn't see this. He had to stay gone until I finished cleaning.

He stepped closer. "You need help, Mila Dmitrievna. I'm going to get your husband."

I opened my mouth to answer, but another clench of my stomach muscles dropped me onto the ground. "Anna," I managed to gasp. "Get Anna."

He stared at me for a moment, then rushed out the door.

I lay in the puddle of bloody water, my face on the floor. The clenching was happening more often. Something was wrong.

How long had I lain here? Hours. It had been hours. Anna Ilynichna was coming. I had to stay calm until Anna came.

Anna was coming, wasn't she? The boy had gone to get her.

Boy. There had been a boy. Hadn't there?

"Mila, dear, can you hear me?"

Anna. Thank Otets. Her voice was a sip of cool water to my parched ears.

A splashing sound. Someone had stepped into a puddle. No, I was lying in a puddle. A puddle of what?

"Mila? Can you hear me?"

I nodded. My throat was raw, like I'd been screaming. Had I been screaming?

"Can you stand?"

I shook my head.

"Yakov has gone for Han, dear. He'll be here soon."

"No," I rasped. He couldn't see this. Why didn't they understand? I cried out as another clenching pain took me.

A warm touch on my stomach. A hand?

"Mila, how frequent are your pains?"

What did she mean? The clenching? I gasped for air as the pain stopped, but another one started again.

"Mila, dear, the baby's coming."

I shook my head. The baby couldn't be coming. Too early. It was too early. Wasn't it? The baby wasn't due for weeks. Months.

Another pain overtook me.

"Can you get onto your knees?"

I shook my head again.

"What about your back, dear?"

I let out a whimper as I slowly rolled onto my back. Anna propped up my legs so my feet were flat on the floor. "Now, Mila, when the next pain starts, you need to push with it. Can you do that?"

Push? That would bring the baby out. Why would she want me to do that? "Too early?" I whispered.

"Babes come when they will, dear." Anna's voice was calm. How could she be calm at a time like this? "Many babies are born early without a problem. Just push, and let Otets worry about the rest."

I couldn't do it.

The pain started again.

"Push," Anna ordered.

I pushed. I was being torn apart from the inside.

A brief reprieve. I gasped for air.

"Again."

Pain. Burning. Tearing.

Reprieve.

"Again."

Tearing. Burning.

Breathe.

"Once more, dear."

I couldn't do it.

"You can do it."

Sheer torture. Nothing existed but pain.

"I have him."

Have him? The baby? I didn't hear his cries. Was he healthy?

"One more push."

Sight, hearing, taste, smell disappeared in the face of the white-hot agony ripping me in half.

A soft hand touched my cheek. "It's over, Mila."

The baby. Where was the baby? I looked around. Everything was blurry. "My son?" I croaked.

"I'm sorry, Mila." Anna's eyes were wet. Was she crying? "He didn't make it."

Didn't make what? Before I could process the meaning of the words, I fell into blessed oblivion.