*****
TWO SUCH AS WE
Madiana and Helias
He was like a prince, handsome and strong and charming and kind–everything a maiden could wish for in a young man and more–or so Madiana had been told, over and over it seemed. The new boy from the next village over was all any of her friends had spoken of during their last several visits. Just eighteen years old and apparently here to care for his elderly uncle, the newcomer was the most exciting thing the girls of Casenga had found to talk about in years.
Micola, Madiana’s dearest and oldest friend, was the most elaborate in her dreamy monologues, praising the young man’s apparent virtues with great eloquence for a girl who had never cared to learn her reading.
“He is simply divine, Madiana. It’s such a shame you can’t be out with us to meet him! He has the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen, and glossy black curls tousled just enough that you know he’s not vain, but still ever so fetching, and long enough to run your fingers through. He’s strong too–he brought water to all of us at the hot part of the day, and he carried the pails from the well halfway across the field as easily as if they were flower baskets!”
Madiana smiled at her friend’s enamored ranting, trying to conjure a mental image of this ideal young man who was allegedly so marvelous. By now she could get a pretty clear picture based on the many descriptions she’d had, all unprompted, of course.
Madiana didn’t mind hearing about the newcomer, not really. Though she had never considered herself one given to fanciful romanticism, the stories of the young man at least gave her something to think on during her convalescence. Were it any other year, she would have been out in the fields and vineyards with her friends, bringing in the harvest and enjoying the talk and laughter under the autumn sun, and would have gotten to meet this boy herself. But this spring’s bout of longfever had left her too weak for harvest work this season, and Mami and Papi were insistent that she stay in and recoup her strength until winter. She was their only surviving daughter, so she could not blame them for their worry. But obedience in this instance left her alone in the little cottage for long hours from dawn until dark, except for the short visits her friends could spare her on their way back to the village.
“You should come out tomorrow evening,” Micola said one day, interrupting her own tale about the newcomer’s latest chivalry to the girls during their labor. “I think I can convince everyone to take this road on the way back; it’s longer, but I’ll tell them about the wild plums in the wood here. If you sit out by the roadside, you’ll see him when we pass by! I can introduce you if you like.”
“Oh!” Madiana exclaimed. “That is an idea…” she paused, wavering in her momentary excitement. While the idea of finally laying eyes on this enchanting boy was enticing, she felt an inexplicable reluctance to actually try it. Perhaps it was because once she saw him, the mystery of it all would be over. Whatever idealized vision of a fairy tale prince she’d constructed in her mind would meet flesh-and-blood reality and melt away like frost under rain.
Or perhaps it was because once Madiana saw him, she would know.
And knowing was often such a heavy burden.
Madiana couldn’t remember when she had first begun to know things, but it happened to her often enough that she knew it was nothing to ignore. Sometimes she could look at a person and ascertain, with perfect certainty, the quality of their character, good or bad. Sometimes she met someone’s eyes and knew they would die before she saw them next. Sometimes she would lay eyes on some unimportant object and know that she would need it later, no matter how strange it might seem. These impressions, brief but vivid, had never erred in all her life. And while there was no telling when she might suddenly know something, it did often tend to occur with people whom she had never met before.
So this hero, this exciting young man, was more likely than anyone to stir another inexorable knowing.
Madiana had never spoken of her peculiar gift to anyone. She was a reserved person by nature, and even if she hadn’t been, she was smart enough to know that it didn’t take much to give whispers of witchcraft credence. While her manifestation of magic was nowhere near enough to qualify her as a thaumaturge of any sort, people’s natural distrust toward anyone of magical ilk was justifiably strong enough to make revealing her abilities far too risky.
For this reason, when Micola looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to acknowledge the brilliance of her scheme, Madiana gave her a politely grateful smile and said she would try to come out by the road the next evening, privately resolving to be too fatigued to do so.
“I do hope you’ll get to see him,” Micola said, beaming as she clasped Madiana’s hand. “I know I go on about him, but truthfully I’ve thought ever since meeting him that he should be for you. You’ll agree with me when you meet–It’s meant to be.”
*****
As luck would have it, Madiana had no need to feign fatigue the next evening; she felt unwell in the afternoon and laid back on her cot to rest her eyes, and woke long after dark to find that her mother had tucked her in and left a plate of supper by her bedside in case she woke in the night. A rush of guilt took her. The next morning she asked her parents whether Micola had come by the house, and was told that she and a large group of young people had walked by and inquired after her. Observing Madiana’s regret, her mother assured her that Micola and the others had promised to come by another day.
The next time Madiana was told to wait out by the roadside, she rested well early in the day, and plaited her hair with one of her mother’s ribbons, and laid a blanket on the grass dutifully, determined not to let her nameless presentiment get the better of her. Micola’s efforts to bring her the opportunity of meeting the handsome stranger ought not to go unappreciated.
Yet as the caravan of youths appeared on the road, Madiana searched their numbers for an unfamiliar face and found none. All of them were acquaintances and friends she knew well already.
“His uncle is ill and needed tending today,” Micola explained as she passed by, looking dreadfully apologetic. “He does send his regards, and would have stopped to meet you if he could!”
Madiana’s mixed anticipation, which had been simmering with increasing intensity until now, faltered just shy of a boiling point and cooled almost instantly, leaving her perplexed and somewhat bereft. Two failed attempts at a meeting, and no fruits to show for it. The thought occurred to her that perhaps she had been afraid for nothing–perhaps Micola was wrong, and she and the young man were not meant to meet. Things like this might happen every time, she thought dismally, preventing us from ever seeing one another. That would be our luck, wouldn’t it? Good things don’t happen for secret witches.
It was true, she thought. But she did not… know it.
****
Even without the certainty of knowing, Madiana was, in other ways, quite astute in her predictions. The next several opportunities to meet the young stranger dissipated before they ever had a chance to take shape, let alone become a real hope. The fascinating stories of him soon ran their course, and as harvest neared its end, Madiana’s friends became too engrossed in preparations for the harvest festival to spare much time to chatter to an invalid about a handsome boy.
Madiana, for her part, focused her efforts on resting and reserving her strength so that she might attend the festival in person. Her mother and father promised she could go if the physician deemed her well enough, and she was determined to meet the standard.
Days passed, and the warmth of the autumn sun cooled. The change in season was swifter than usual, and by the day of the harvest festival there was a biting chill in the wind. For a sinking moment when she rose from her bed, Madiana feared that the cold would make her parents keep her home, but when she looked to them for final permission, they generously nodded their assent.
“Yes, you may come, but dress warmly and don’t overexert yourself,” her mother told her, wrapping her up in shawls and a cloak. “You may feel well enough, but if you set yourself back now, the winter will not be kind to you.”
Madiana had no desire to spend another summer as she had this one, so she willingly gave her promise to be careful, and accepted her father’s help climbing into their wagon.
Casenga was alive with excitement when they arrived. Throngs of people moved through streets decked with sheaves of wheat and bundles of dry cornstalks, while garlands stretched between the cottages in a lovely array of browns, reds, and golds. The smell of smoke from the little pyres burning cheerfully at every street corner blended with the aroma of roasting meats and sweet tea, making the very air itself a palpable feast, which Madiana could not wait to consume. She climbed down from the wagon, dutifully containing her excitement so as not to incite her parent’s anxiety, and with her father’s permission she set out into the village, clutching her cloak tightly around her shoulders.
Delicate white snowflakes floated down all around her as she moved through the crowd, gracing her honey-colored tresses like stars at sunset and cooling the tip of her nose pleasantly. The sight of them drifting along with the wind filled Madiana with an almost breathless delight, and she followed their swirling path, passing booths set up with sweets and savory breads and pretty trinkets from the traveling merchants. Though she wanted to find at least one thing to take with her tonight, she was too much enamored with the beauty of the moment to linger long in any one place–until the sound of mandolins and reed flutes reached her ears and drew her to the village square where the dances had begun.
“Madi!” Micola cried, appearing from the crowd alongside Luca and Penina, some of Madiana’s other friends, beaming with an open smile. She held the hand of Pietro, a young man who Madiana knew well from both school and fieldwork. He gave Madiana a grin and bumped Micola with his hip.
“You see? I knew she would be able to come. And here you talked about not coming with me tonight!” Pietro teased.
Micola flushed and reached out to take Madiana’s arm. “I’m so glad you’re here. We’ve just started dancing–will you join us?”
Madiana shook her head with a pang, patting her friend’s hand. “I promised Mami and Papi I would not do too much! But I’ll watch!”
Penina pressed a cup of sweet milk tea into her hands, its heat sinking into her fingertips enough to make her realize how cold she’d been.
“We understand,” Luca said, squeezing her shoulder. “We’ll dance all the more since you can’t!”
The next song began, and her friends moved away from her, Penina seizing the nearest boy’s arm while Pietro swept Micola into the midst of the square.
Micola laughed and clutched at his shoulders as they whirled, but her face slackened suddenly as if with sudden remembrance. She caught Madiana’s eyes between turns, attempting to mouth something to her over the din of the music.
“What?” Madiana leaned forward, clutching her tea close.
“He’s here,” Micola mouthed again, before Madiana lost sight of her beyond the other couples twirling by.
Madiana barely had the chance to absorb this message before her eyes settled on a tall, lean figure near the middle of the square, with tousled black curls and broad shoulders.
He was dancing with a gray-haired woman whom Madiana recognized as the baker’s wife, his head thrown back with laughter. The way he moved, so gentle with his shorter partner, careful not to spin her too hard or too fast, instantly caught Madiana’s attention. Then, in the next second, he looked her way, and the eyes that met hers flashed blue in the firelight.
Madiana gasped, for in that moment, she knew three things at once.
This was the newcomer Micola and the girls had spoken of.
He, like Madiana herself, had magic in his veins.
And he, for reasons she could not yet explain, was one whom she was meant to love.
For what could only have been a fraction of a second, the stranger’s gaze lingered on her, and his steps faltered. But just as quickly he caught himself and deftly adjusted his stance, keeping the woman he danced with from suffering from his momentary distraction.
Madiana leaned back, against the corner of a booth, and noticed she’d spilled every drop of her tea.
“May I fill that for you again, miss?” asked the woman in the booth, readying a ladle full from the kettle at her side.
“No, I…” Madiana stammered, utterly flustered, “I’m warm enough now…”
It was true. Her body glowed with warmth, and she was certain there must be a flush on her cheeks. Mortified, Madiana was tempted to flee the square and find her parents once again, but as soon as she turned, the stranger was in her sight again, closer this time.
He had a new partner, this time a small child, who clutched his hands tightly and bounced with giggling glee with no regard to the true steps of the dance. The young man jumped in time with her, grinning as he glanced toward Madiana. This time, he winked, which sent Madiana fumbling for a seat because her knees had gone weak.
No wonder the girls kept going on and on about him! She thought desperately. Who could meet someone like him and not come away bewitched?
She stayed there, unable to leave, watching the dance when she dared. She saw Luca with a shy-looking boy, Penina linking hands with two other girls, Micola and Pietro wrapped tightly in each other’s arms… and the newcomer again, this time alone, weaving toward her through the dancers.
She tensed, before realizing that she was waiting with eager anticipation. He was coming to her–they would meet, at last–
He had nearly reached her when another woman intercepted him, looping her arm through his and begging him to take her out into the square. With a helpless laugh, he obliged, but caught Madiana’s eye and nodded toward a corner where the entrance to a quiet alley lay.
Understanding that he wished to meet her there, Madiana considered. Did she really want to meet him alone for the first time?
Yes, she did, it could be no other way.
Smoothing her shawls and cloak down to settle her nerves, she went where he had directed, going down the empty alley a few paces and waiting there.
*****
The music changed, the mandolins slowing their frantic rhythms and the flutes shifting to a warm, lilting melody. Madiana watched as the dancers settled into a steady, undulating pattern, disrupting the firelight and sending shadows to swell and ebb all around her.
She did not wait long before he came to her, breathless, his confident pace giving way to uncertainty as he neared the alley. The young man’s face was still alight with joy, but now held a look of trepidation that made him seem almost boyish.
“They told me you were wonderful,” he began, so earnest in tone that Madiana could not doubt his sincerity, “I never thought…”
So he felt it too, did he? Madiana clasped her hands together to keep from reaching for his. It wasn’t right to fall in love so quickly, but the clarity of knowing was so hard to deny. She stepped closer, looking up to meet his eyes and match his honesty.
“I tried not to meet you,” she admitted softly. “I had a feeling things would… would change, if I did.”
“And don’t you want them to?” he asked, catching her hand. His palm was warm and dry, and large enough to enclose her fingers with room to spare. “Shouldn’t they, when two such as we meet?”
Madiana opened her mouth, but hesitated, unsure even where to start. “What is your name?” she asked, wanting to hear it from his own lips, though Micola had already told her.
“Helias,” he said. “And… you are Madiana, correct?”
She nodded, unable to keep the smile from her face at the way her name sounded in his voice. “Yes, I am.”
She hesitated a moment more, focusing on her hand in his, using all her inborn ability to sense what she could of him. Now that they were closer, she knew one thing more–that he was good, and that came as a relief that was almost unspeakable.
She took a risk.
“Helias, you are like me, aren’t you? You have a gift, and you can see that I do also?”
He froze, blue eyes going distant with momentary hesitation before he gave the barest nod. “But let’s not speak of that,” he said quickly. “I never have, and I think you haven’t either. Best keep it that way, don’t you think?”
A hint of disappointment touched Madiana’s heart, but it vanished in the next second when Helias brought her hand to his cheek and pressed his face in her palm, closing his eyes.
Madiana’s stomach fluttered and her knees felt soft again, though she managed to keep her composure.
“Do you think anyone will believe us if we tell them we’re already in love?” he whispered.
Madiana giggled softly, for it sounded ludicrous when he said it, though she knew what he meant. “It’s not quite being in love, is it?” she asked, stroking her thumb along his cheekbone. “It’s knowing that we will be, and nothing can be done to prevent it.”
“I hear no difference,” he murmured. “When can I court you?”
“Tomorrow, I think. Though you can meet my Papi tonight and ask.”
“I will.”
*****
Papi’s face was unusually solemn the next morning as he sat at the table across from their young guest. Madiana went about preparing breakfast with Mami, trying her best to remain composed and demure, without sneaking too many glances at Helias, hoping he conducted himself well.
“How old are you, boy?” Papi asked stiffly after a long silence.
Madiana knew he didn’t mean to sound gruff or unwelcoming, he was just nervous and caught off guard by the sudden presence of a young man interested in his only daughter.
Helias sat up fractionally straighter, meeting Papi’s gaze dutifully. “Nineteen next month, sir.”
He had given some extra effort to his appearance today, coming his unruly curls into a respectably neat arrangement. The clothes he wore were the same he’d had on last night–a simple red tunic with embroidered edges, and a scarf the same color as his dark pants and boots. Madiana supposed these to be his best clothes, though in this lighting she could see that everything he wore had been stitched numerous times to conceal places of wear. A prince he might have been in looks and manners, but there the comparison ended.
Papi sighed, rubbing his chin. “And… what do you want with life, aside from my daughter?”
Helias cleared his throat, and his expression sharpened as he answered thoughtfully. “I’d like to get out of my uncle’s house, once he is feeling better. That will mean finding work enough to make my own home. I’m willing to do whatever that takes. If I had the time, I’d like to study more–I think it’s good to know as much about the world as you can, if you can spare the time to learn it.”
Papi nodded. “You don’t get on well with your uncle, I take it?”
Helias looked uncomfortable, but answered, “He’s been widowed for twenty years and never had any children, so he’s not used to having company. I was sent to care for him, but…”
Papi waved his hand to indicate his understanding, his brow furrowed in thought.
Madiana and Mami set down bowls of sweet spelt in front of them with cups of fresh milk, then took their seats as well.
Papi’s questions continued–inquiring about Helias’s upbringing, his other family members, what useful skills did he possess, what was his idea of caring for a family, and so on–while Helias answered steadily, sparing only the occasional sideways glance toward Madiana, enough to let her know that he wasn’t ignoring her, but not so much as to give the appearance of being too dependent.
Catching Madiana’s eye, Mami gave her a subtle wink, and gently tapped the toe of her shoe twice against the bridge of Madiana’s foot. It was something they often did in their family, a silent way of saying they loved one another and approved of what was being said.
Grateful, Madiana tapped her mother’s foot back, and did the same to her father.
Papi’s mouth twitched without breaking into a full smile, but Madiana knew he was pleased as well. She waited for his returning taps, but felt nothing, though Helias suddenly faltered mid-sentence and glanced down, much to Papi’s alarm.
Madiana quickly looked to the ceiling to avoid making eye contact with her mother, knowing she would burst into laughter if she did, though even that was not enough to shield her from the sight of her mother’s silent convulsions.
Clearing his throat, Papi took an enormous bite of spelt and gulped down his entire cup of milk before sitting back and wiping his mouth.
“Well, boy, what would you say about working for me? I can’t pay you more than a few liris a week, but you’d have room and board free, and I’d give you plenty of time to see to your uncle and work other jobs to supplement what I can’t give you. You’d be near Madiana, and have ample time to make a good impression on me.”
Helias perked up, his amazement clear. “Y-you’d take me on so easily?”
“I’ve thought of taking on a boy before now. I want to take the burden off my wife and child. What say you?”
Madiana looked hopefully to Helias, heart racing. To have him here, to speak to him every day and get to know him in all the ways she yearned to, that would be heavenly! Her convalescence would be no burden then.
To her delight and relief, Helias stood and gave her father a low bow. “Sir, I would be honored. Thank you!”
Madiana’s spirits soared so that she barely heard the remainder of their conversation, as her parents bade the young man return at his earliest convenience. Her mind and heart were bursting with giddiness and a frantic list of what she ought to do to the spare room to make it ready for him.
“Madiana?” Her mother prodded, touching her arm gently and bringing her back into the moment.
Helias was waiting in the doorway, looking at her with an amused but patient expression. Madiana realized he was waiting to bid her goodbye.
“Oh!” She cried, returning to her senses. She skipped forward and threw her arms around him, taking the liberty of being forward now that her parents clearly liked him.
Helias caught her warmly and returned her embrace, bending slightly to rest his cheek on her head.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said, pulling back to meet her eyes.
Madiana paused for a moment before answering. “Yes, soon,” she agreed, reluctantly letting him go.
Her heart raced for an entirely different reason as he walked down the road, disappearing beyond the bend. For in that last moment, when he met her eyes, Madiana had known one thing more;
Helias had told a lie today.
But what had it been?
*****
Glorious Stories 