Coolness

– Stop worrying, both of you, – Erikson said casually. – If something were wrong, she’d tell me everything she thought of me to my face. Since she hasn’t complained, it means I’m not a man to her, but a dream. So everything’s fine. – Erikson then looked at his youngest brother: – Willie, pass the cheese.

– Did you hear that, Charlotte? – Andreas asked pompously. – We raised not a son, but the ultimate dream. – He then looked at Erikson: – Be careful not to overdo it, or your girlfriend might find herself a new dream.

– Exactly – Morten suddenly spoke up. – I, for one, am free.

Andreas pointed his spoon at his middle son and said:

– Well, you’ve already overdone it.

Erikson said in a completely nonchalant tone:

– Dad, pay no attention. What is he even capable of? Giving a woman a bouquet of dill?

– Willie, why aren’t you eating? – Andreas asked in an encouraging voice. – Come on, go on. We’ll start making sleds in a couple of days.

At the mention of the sleds, Willie lifted his head and reached for the plate of porridge.

– Let me help you – Charlotte said, filling Willie’s plate. She then took the dish and went to the pot to serve a new batch.

Ian entered the house, where the table was already set and everyone was waiting for him. His mind was still entirely occupied with Penelope, so he didn’t immediately hear his father’s question about washing his hands.

Martin was far from blind and knew exactly what his eldest son was constantly obsessing over. He was irritated by Ian staring at the neighbor’s girl as if he planned to ask her on a date any minute. Though Martin never said it openly, he sometimes held the girl responsible for his son becoming so detached from reality. He no longer tried to condemn the boy for his daydreams – not because he was trying to avoid scolding his son on every occasion, but because he simply saw no more point. Such was Ian’s character: he often immersed himself in his dreams, ready to remain stuck there for life. His two younger children, Kolinda, who was only a year Ian’s junior, and Klaus, who was three years younger, experienced the same strict approach to upbringing from their father. Martin firmly believed that a man should not simply manage a family, but suppress all dissent and liberties. He desperately wanted to forge a real man out of his eldest son, but for the last couple of years, Martin had realized he was unlikely to succeed. No matter how hard he pushed, Ian could not transform from a soft, peace-loving teenager into the stern man Martin envisioned – a man ready to establish his own laws in the house and command others. This approach also failed with Klaus, who didn’t understand what his father wanted from him and simply took his older brother as an example. He didn’t daydream, but he also showed no sign of the strength of character Martin desired. Kolinda was, perhaps, the only one of the three children who became what Martin wanted: an obedient girl who unquestioningly fulfilled any requirement, resigned to her role as a woman who did not even attempt to consider alternatives for a different life. In regard to his daughter, however, it was Magdalena who had largely succeeded. If the children feared Martin, they sincerely loved Magdalena, feeling her mother’s warmth and love. She was a year younger than Martin, but his complete opposite. It was largely thanks to Magdalena that their children avoided the kind of upbringing common in an army barracks. Although she was a faithful and docile wife who fully accepted her husband’s will, she always consciously sought to smooth over the emotional roughness left by the harsh and demanding hand of their father.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner in their house were always the same: not a single word was spoken at the table. This is why meals in this family took such a short time that, if they wished, they would still have had time to run to the other families in the village and help polish off their dinners.

4. Between Wine and the Abyss

The harvest was almost completely gathered. Only a few more days of hard work remained before they could start the winter sowing. Everything was going as planned.

It was the time when the village elders – the heads of the families – had a tradition of gathering in the barn late in the evenings after supper to play “Tower,” dice, and drink wine.

The barn served as a communal storage for the entire village, where any resident could go at any time for necessary provisions. The barn measured twenty by fifteen meters. The floor was covered with boards, beneath which wooden beams provided support. A cellar, spanning the barn’s entire footprint, was located beneath the floor. Under the roof was a rectangular attic. The attic’s floor was designed to extend five meters inward from the outer walls, leaving an empty space in the middle. This central void made it possible to position a ladder and climb up from any point on the ground floor. A stove stood in the center of the barn and was lit when severe frosts began. For this reason, someone was inside around the clock to ensure the fire in the stove did not go out. To this end, the elders and some of their sons took turns guarding the fire to prevent the provisions from freezing.

In addition to the barn, this part of the village also housed livestock pens for pigs, cows, sheep, rabbits, and goats.

That evening, the full company was present. It was already dark outside, and loud laughter filled the barn.

– Who’s next? – Thomas asked cheerfully after winning the game of “Tower” against Karl.

The principle of the game was quite simple: Sixty elongated, six-sided wooden blocks are stacked three high, with players alternating the direction of the blocks in each new row. The players then begin to pull out a single block in turn. The game continues until the structure collapses when a player attempts to pull out a block. Thomas was on a roll that evening. He had defeated Wilhelm and Martin before facing Karl. Now Andreas sat opposite him.

– Now I’ll show you – he said menacingly to Thomas, starting to stack the blocks.

– Yeah, right – Thomas answered sarcastically. – You can tell those stories to someone else. But only after I bring you back down to earth.

– You certainly taught your boy to hunt well – Andreas suddenly said in a restrained tone. – By the way, tell him thanks for the hare.

– It was nothing. It would be better if we went shooting sometime – Thomas replied in the same calm voice, finishing stacking the blocks.

– Yes, we should do that sometime.

Suddenly, Andreas turned around and said:

– Hey, Herman, come join us.

– Why not? – Herman replied, wiping the wine from his lips with his sleeve. He sat down alongside them, and the game began.

At the adjacent table sat Karl, Wilhelm, Martin, Gustav, and his two sons – Ragnar and Henry – each of whom was married with children. Some were playing dice, others were keeping the wine flowing, and a few were simply making conversation.

Andreas lost at “Tower” and joined the adjacent table, where they were playing dice. He picked up a bottle and offered Karl a wine top-up. Karl handed him the glass, but, true to habit, he said nothing where anyone else would normally say “thank you,” “I appreciate it,” or “don’t bother In general, Andreas never desired to befriend Karl or establish close communication with him. He fundamentally disagreed with the worldview that defined Karl. Andreas considered Karl’s habits and manners too outdated, harsh, and at times, utterly reckless. To him, Karl was a man who lacked his own mind and blindly adhered to the laws inherited from his ancestors. Despite having no sympathy for Karl, he still tried to be patient and occasionally engage him in even the most trivial conversation. Andreas understood that this was necessary if he wanted his son to marry Karl’s daughter. He liked Penelope and fully approved of his son’s choice, believing that this girl would become a wonderful wife and mother.

However, Karl already had a friend in Martin, who respected his conservative morals and sternness of mind. What’s more, Martin hated Penelope, and after noticing several times how Karl raised his voice at his eldest daughter, he began to respect him even more. Sometimes Martin thought that if his neighbor didn’t have such a pretty daughter, his own son wouldn’t be daydreaming, perpetually in the clouds, about marrying some princess of unearthly beauty one day. He believed such thoughts were very harmful, as Ian risked starting a family much later than he should, or, worse yet, remaining completely without offspring.

– We need to finish gathering the harvest quickly so we can get to the sowing – Gustav said, finishing the last of his wine.

Gustav was in his fifty-second year, making him the oldest man in the village. Formally, he was not the head of the village and did not have the deciding vote, but he was considered the unofficial leader among the elders. During his life, his father, Henrik, commanded respect throughout the entire village and was a great authority. He was revered as a wise man with vast life experience, and every piece of his advice was highly valued. When Henrik passed away, Gustav somehow decided that his father’s authority would be passed on to him by inheritance, and that he did not need to earn the respect of others through his own efforts. However, it was never customary in the village to appoint a leader among the elders; every issue was decided by vote. Nonetheless, Gustav consciously tried to convey the idea that he was the chief here and his opinion should not be questioned. No one outwardly ignored him, and they allowed him to assume the role of leader only out of respect for the deceased Henrik.

For that matter, Gustav also had his own reasons for hating Karl’s eldest daughter. The cause was that when his youngest son, Konrad, offered to court Penelope, she resolutely refused him. A flare of hatred was also directed at Andreas when Gustav discovered that Erikson was courting Penelope. Gustav thus came to the simple conclusion that, in Penelope’s opinion, his son was inferior to Andreas’s.

– We’ll make it – Herman confidently stated from the adjacent table. – The harvest is going according to plan, so there will be enough time.

– I wouldn’t be so calm if I were you. The weather has already surprised us once this year.

Herman didn’t answer because everyone understood how unyielding Gustav was in his certainty. He spent several more minutes citing a plethora of arguments in favor of his opinion, while Herman mused on how much Gustav was truly dramatizing everything. Herman himself was the exact opposite, preferring to view any problem as a matter of time: put in a little effort, and the problem would disappear. Now, having lost at “Tower,” he told Thomas in a confident tone, while energetically waving his arms:

– Alright, one more time. The glass is empty, so now nothing can interfere with me.

These words greatly amused Thomas.

Martin glanced at everyone present, weighed the situation one last time, and finally risked saying:

– Alright then. I see no one wants to talk about this, so I’ll start. – Everyone immediately looked at Martin. Placing his left hand on his hip, he continued speaking without the slightest tremor in his voice: – We must face the truth. The harvest this year is meager. Such reserves will definitely not last until spring. Maybe it’s time to discuss an alternative.

Gustav was the first to reply:

– I wouldn’t say everyone here is avoiding this conversation, Martin. Everyone understands. We just need to finish harvesting the grain to assess the final volume of provisions.

– It seems, – Wilhelm began, – that this option doesn’t bother you at all.

– We are simply realists – Martin retorted.

– You are simply crazy – Thomas objected.

– Be careful with your choice of words – Gustav insisted.

Thomas forgot about the game, slammed his glass onto the table, stood up abruptly from his stool, pointed his finger at Gustav, and said reproachfully:

– It’s easy to talk when you don’t have daughters.

Raising his voice a little, Gustav replied:

– What does that even mean!? Are you trying to call me a ruthless bastard!? Or maybe you think it’s my fault that I have three sons!?

– I don’t care what you think – Thomas continued. – Many of us have girls older than ten, and we’re not going to listen to talk like this from those who risk nothing.

– How dare you!? – Martin shouted, slamming the table. – In addition to my sons, I also have a daughter, but I try to accept the will of fate instead of avoiding responsibility.

Herman wanted to stand up and call for calm, but Thomas shouted another remark:

– What are you saying?! You have a daughter?! Wilhelm has four, only one of whom is not yet ten! How must he feel hearing this?! If you were in his place, I don’t think you would have the nerve to start this conversation!

Suddenly, Andreas jumped up from his chair, stood between the two tables, and yelled at the top of his voice:

– ENOUGH!!!

A silence fell over the barn that was louder than a cannon barrage.

Andreas may not have managed to calm everyone down, but at the very least, he made them all sit back down. He remained standing and began to lay out his proposal:

– Many of those present here have daughters. First of all, we must be respectful of their feelings and not act as if we were discussing the fate of some animal. Either way, it is too early to consider this option. We have not yet gathered the entire harvest or done a proper count. Regardless, we can hunt. Ultimately, we can slaughter a bit more livestock. We will then replace some of the plant provisions with meat and simultaneously reduce the amount of harvest needed to feed the animals. So, first of all, each of us needs to put our brains to work, – Andreas concluded, looking at Martin and then at Gustav as if addressing his words to them, – and then suggest something like this.

Martin could not understand Andreas simply because he had three sons and no daughters. Gustav, meanwhile, was certain that Andreas was worried about his offspring, who had already found a bride among the local girls.

Whatever the reason, this topic was closed – at least for the time being.

Having finished his glass, Wilhelm rose from the table, preparing to head home. Andreas and Thomas offered him a game, but he politely declined. With each passing day, he tried to leave Ava alone less and less, fearing premature labor, as had happened once before when Astrid was born.

Soon, Wilhelm crossed the threshold of the house. Usually, he went straight to the bed where, before closing his eyes, he would press himself tightly against Ava. At this stage, she could no longer sleep on her stomach and had to lie on her side. This time, Wilhelm went to the girls’ bed. He bent down and kissed each of them on the forehead. In those moments, tears began to well up in his eyes, but he found the strength to hold them back.

Wilhelm watched the girls for a while, particularly Frida, who seemed about to push Astrid right out of the bed. He carefully shifted Frida a little deeper, then went to his own bed. He pressed himself against Ava, wrapped his arm around her bulging belly, and closed his eyes, hoping to quickly fall asleep and at least temporarily escape his thoughts of Nix.

5. After Sunset

During those same autumn days, when the elders began gathering in the barn in the late evenings, the women of the village were also keeping busy. After clearing the table, each sought to spend time in someone else’s company.

Regina was about to wipe up the flour traces she found on the floor, but Penelope asked to do it herself. She kissed her daughter on the cheek and went to fill the lamp with oil. Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Regina hurried to open the door. Ava stood on the threshold, surrounded by Irma, Astrid, Frida, and Wanda. Regina invited them all inside. Finally, she kissed Ava in greeting and then asked her to wait a moment while she finished filling her lamp. While waiting for Regina, Ava quietly approached Penelope from behind and sharply pinched her sides. Penelope screamed hysterically in surprise, and Ava couldn’t stop laughing for a long time.

– Sorry, – she managed to say through her laughter, – but I couldn’t resist.

Penelope tried her best to contain her smile, but she failed.

– All right – Penelope replied, as if forgiving her. – Just make sure the baby doesn’t jump out of your belly.

Ava appreciated the joke, grabbing Penelope’s shoulder for support to keep from falling, and, dissolving into laughter, nearly rested her chin on it.

Soon after, Regina appeared. She handed Ava the oil lamp and picked up a freshly baked apple pie. They headed for the exit. At the doorway, Regina said:

– Well, that’s everything. Don’t get bored.

Ava waved and said:

– Girls, be sure to obey Penelope.

A moment later, the door clicked shut.

On such evenings, Wanda was the most excited about visiting Penelope.

– What are we doing today? – she asked.

– Patience, sweetie – Penelope replied, wiping the last traces of flour from the floor.

Finished with the cleaning, she led the girls to her room and asked them to wait a moment. Then Penelope went out to the backyard and called out loudly:

– All right, everyone inside!

Ursula, Willie, and Sven raced at full speed toward Penelope. After bringing the children inside, she closed the door from the inside and went into the bedroom. There, as was usual in such cases, Penelope spread several wide, warm blankets on top of each other, where all the children could settle in a semicircle. She then sat opposite them with the lamp in her hand, tucking her legs beneath her. On each of these evenings, when parents throughout the village scattered in search of entertainment and interesting conversation, the little ones flocked to Penelope to listen to legends and fairy tales. This time, in her hands lay a book of stories by obscure authors.

That evening, she chose a story for the children about the love between a simple fisherman and the daughter of an emperor. In the story, the emperor forcibly married his daughter off to a member of the upper class by threatening to kill the fisherman. The fisherman could not bear this and, feeling his life fading, decided to pierce his own heart with a dagger. But moments before, the young man appealed to the higher powers and asked for only one thing: to be allowed to be reborn so that he might see the face of his beloved just one more time, even if only with one eye. However, the emperor’s daughter could not bear parting with the young man either. She was so distraught that she decided to jump from the window of her bedchamber in the high tower. The lovers died on the same day, at the same hour. But then, just a few months later, a stranger appeared in the city: a man by day, a huge wolf by night. The stranger suffered for a long time because the face of a certain maiden kept resurfacing in his mind. The face seemed familiar to him. He didn’t know who this beauty was, but he desperately wanted to find her. He searched for her for a long time but never found her. The stranger was alone, and that loneliness became more and more unbearable with each passing day. Turning into the wolf by night, he attacked the locals, who soon became wolves just like him. The stranger was no longer alone, but the beautiful maiden’s face still gave him no peace. His second essence, which emerged with the onset of darkness, kept him from being alone by creating a pack in which he found companions. But the stranger still felt lonely.

Soon, under the lamplight falling upon the pages, Penelope finished reading the last lines of the story:

– Captured in a beast’s flesh, he wandered the earth for long centuries, searching for his beloved in the hope that she was waiting for him somewhere.

Lying on the floor with her chin propped on her fists, an impressed Wanda took a deep breath and said out of habit:

– Read us something else?

But Penelope abruptly shut the book, causing a muffled thud, and said:

– That’s enough for today.

Upset, Wanda sighed even louder. The others were also annoyed that Penelope refused to read another story, but Wanda was the most indignant of all.

A knock sounded at the door. Charlotte hurried to open it. On the threshold stood Regina with the apple pie and Ava, who held the lamp in her right hand and pressed a shawl against her bulging belly with her left to keep the baby warm.

– Well, finally – Charlotte said, kissing her friends on the cheeks in turn. – Hurry, come in.

Regina and Charlotte were bosom friends. The same could be said for Ava, though in their case, the friendship was furthered by their children’s intent to marry. In their conversations, Charlotte and Regina often touched on the topic of the wedding, discussing the future they wished for Erikson and Penelope. Andreas, too, already considered Regina a full-fledged relative. At every chance meeting, he urged her to visit their home more often, promising he would ask Charlotte to cook something special for the occasion.

– By the way, Yvette sent word that she can’t make it – Charlotte said while pouring boiling water over the rose hips. – Their youngest has fallen ill. – After a short pause, Charlotte added: – I hope you didn’t eat too much at dinner?

– Not really – Regina said, placing the first slice of pie onto Ava’s plate.

– You don’t have to worry about me – Ava replied. After biting off a generous piece of pie, she added, with her mouth full: – The baby will help me; he can never get enough.

Regina and Charlotte laughed, and when the laughter subsided, Charlotte said:

– Selma promised to bring a baked hare.

Hearing about the baked hare, Ava lowered her eyelids and thought with some longing about how much she craved meat, all while continuing to chew the pie she was currently eating alone, as the others had decided to wait for Selma and the hare.

– Magdalena also said she couldn’t make it – Regina suddenly recalled. – She didn’t say why, though.

Charlotte added with an uplifted voice:

– At least we won’t have to see Roberta.

– She couldn’t come? – Regina asked. Ava wanted to ask the same question, but the pie in her mouth prevented her.

– I have no idea. I simply didn’t invite her.

This was excellent news for Regina and Ava, just as it would be for Selma.

Roberta, Gustav’s wife, had earned a reputation as the local shrew, with whom few wished to be friends. However, Roberta had a habit of not so much inviting herself as simply informing everyone that she would be joining the little gathering the women of the village held when their husbands were in the barn, the younger children went to Penelope for stories, and the rest went wherever. Her very presence prevented the other women from speaking their minds freely. On almost half of those evenings, the company would be missing one or two women. On those occasions when Roberta could not grace them with a visit, she truly pleased everyone. Unlike their husbands, the wives did not gather every day, but often enough; most evenings – especially in the colder months – were spent in noisy company. The previous morning, Charlotte had been “lucky” enough to run into Roberta on the street, who advised her to get rid of that awful shawl. Of course, Roberta couldn’t have known that the shawl had been a gift from Charlotte’s late mother, but she likely wouldn’t have changed her abrasive manners even if someone had informed her. Charlotte, without uttering a word, continued walking toward the well. That same day, she went around to all her friends and invited them to her place for tea and poppy seed buns. She certainly remembered Roberta. She remembered her so well that she made sure to keep her name off the guest list.

Since Gustav was the one who lectured everyone about life in their family, Roberta took on this role outside the home. She considered herself wiser and more clever than everyone else, simply because she was the oldest woman in the village. She didn’t even care that Herman’s wife, Yvette, for example, was only four years younger. In this respect, Roberta was much like her husband. In addition to not bothering about social graces, Roberta irritated everyone further by doing things like opening cabinets, rearranging items, giving orders, signaling when to set the table and when to clear it, scolding hosts for squeaky chairs and crooked tables, demanding that a hostess throw out old spoons and get new ones, telling everyone where to sit, and… In short, she literally made herself at home. She was also the chief culinary specialist, never missing an opportunity to comment on the dryness of the dough or a lack of sweetness. The last time Magdalena made a raspberry cake, Roberta – either because she couldn’t find a fault or for some other reason – said: “Next time, try adding some nuts, and plenty of them”.