Chapter One
-I-
It was well past midnight when Anna’s contractions began. Her water had broken-off long before sunset and she, if you’d exclude her three children, two sons and one daughter, where the latter was waiting for gods to take her soul and pass to a better world, and Henry, the dog who was named after her father by her husband, was alone at home. Harald, who surely once loved her, was either at the inn drinking or at the bathhouse with the young girl that arrived just before snow closed the roads.
It was a happy marriage in the beginning. Harald was a handsome guy, so much so that not only the single but also the married and widowed women, needless to add many men including Godwin the Cruel, then reeve of Gaba who later got assassinated, wouldn’t mind spending a night or two and warm their thighs with him. Anna was not much different except a tiny little thing: Her beauty wasn’t on lips in Gaba alone. Henry swore without hesitation that even King Ralph, who was young and newly crowned back then, had sent two men to see if the rumours of this angel were true or not. The reason Henry refused to answer “why didn’t his highness the king marry her” is unknown to us and you better ask him yourself.
Physical attraction is a must in any marriage, yet attraction alone hardly if ever is enough to make it a good one. First six months both were as happy as they could get. Rarely they left the bed and did so just to roll around in exotic places like the kitchen counter, the backyard, or riverside, but there came a time when the two needed to talk with each other and things turned out not to be much fun.
Anna still remembers their first fight – well, if it can be called a fight at all. She remembers all the details however much she wanted to forget for it was the first, but sadly not the last time Harald had hit her.
Harald was back from work, the smithy of his father across the street where Harald still was an apprentice. “Where’s my food” he had asked with a broad smile, seeing Anna still preparing it. “Ready in a minute, darling” she said showing the huge pot. He came closer as if he was to kiss her, for which she reached her head to him, but it was a slap than a kiss on her cheek. “When I need food I need food, and when I need food, you’ll put it in front of me just as I want it. Understand?” he asked with the smile still in place. “Good, good” he said after Anna nodded trying to hide her cloudy eyes. “Don’t look so upset. Now you learned for once and for all”.
Anna was an optimist back then. “He should have been annoyed; he gets tired at work” she thought. “He loves me, that I know. A slap can’t change what we are”. Gods heard and accepted her prayer and her wishes were granted for a while. The two were as good as they were for another month till Erik, Harald’s father, started asking why she still wasn’t pregnant. “It’s a barren girl, I knew it” he was saying. “Why otherwise wouldn’t she marry someone better than you”?
They were working on it every night but no, why in the name of gods did he have to do this?
Harald was a man. You know, a real man. If they still didn’t have a child, it was because of her and not him. He thought to send her back to her father’s house but it would be much of a disgrace – not only for her. He sure wouldn’t kill her either. The solution, then?
“Beat your wife every day. You may not know why, but she will”. So his father was saying in his childhood. The slap that hurt Anna more than losing her mom was nothing compared. Foreplay was no more. He started beating her every day until her tummy started growing in the end.
Harald was going to be a father like any real man.
Anna still was optimistic. “Now that I am pregnant, he’ll be as he once was” she thought. No, she didn’t want to think if she’d miscarry, if the baby would be born dead, or die soon. He was a nice guy again, why should she have worried?
In late winter her first child was born to die only few hours later. Anna was devastated. As if this wasn’t enough, Harald disappeared for a whole week leaving her all alone, when she needed him the most. Her optimism outlived her firstborn for two days, and left never to return.
-II-
Harald was drunk as hell when he came back. Anna was ready for her beating but the guy, she years later found out why, didn’t put the blame on her but the town. “Gaba took our child and let us free. Now we go”.
“Whatever you say.”
So devoid of feelings, she neither wondered nor cared where or when. Somehow Harald had remembered that she was his wife and explained her with a tired but still strong voice.
“They need a blacksmith, a well experienced master. Some coin and two girls did the trick. We’re off to Damaria.”
Damaria, the ravishing city upon Garamald Mountains where all dreamed but few got to live. Lord John, the distant cousin of Ralph the King of Wanda, kept his doors closed to all but only the very best. Indeed, you’d find only the masters of their trade there. No outsider was allowed to take a step from the pass without the signed permission of John and John only, yet everyone was free to leave it so long they were that stupid.
Another week passed waiting for his messenger to arrive. Erik was so hard on Harald, not willing him to leave where his family lived since time immemorial, to the extent of trying to beat him up. Sick and tired of his father, Harald grabbed his old man from his collars, raised him half a meter up from the ground for both to be level without one looking towards mother earth while the other to the heavens, and spoke with a hissing voice which no one, including and starting with Anna, to whom he showed this ugly face of his, ever heard before or after:
“Look at me, old chap. From now on, you’ll raise your hand only to beat iron. Not to reach a shelf or branch. Not to say hi or bye. Not to lift a thing. Not to itch your fucking head. Dare not to listen to me and you’ll regret the day I was born. Understood?”
He threw the guy to the ground like a bag of trash, spitted on him, and looked disgustedly on his ugly face. He needed to do something, something more. For years he waited, for years he needed this. What should he have done? Ah, yeah. He grabbed his father again, punched him on the nose and kicked on the balls, and cheerfully watched his man’s tears mixing with the blood. Hence was taken the revenge of twenty and two miserable years in his hands. He regretted letting him live later, but it already was too late.
-III-
John’s letter arrived on the third day. They didn’t have much to pack. Harald had sold all he had, Anna kissed for the last time her father’s hand and they left for Damaria early in the morning on the second day of April in the year one thousand and two hundred and eight.
The roads were open, they arrived at the border on third day and were in the city three days later. Harald, free of the burden of his past, was as good a husband could ever get. He remembered that he loved Anna, the little girl who gave herself to him unreservedly, and was determined to pay her back for all her love, and make her forgive him for what he had done so far. Anna? She was confused. Her love for Harald was so big, but her fear of him grew equally big as well. Now he was different, but what about tomorrow? Harald was happy that she was a good wife, but she was more out of habit and fear than love and care.
Her life had passed with fear till she married Harald. Losing her mom at birth and being left to the hands of her stepmother, thanks to her father being indifferent about his children to say the least, and her siblings deciding to leave for their mother one after another for four winters, she had no one that truly cared for her till she turned fourteen and when she suddenly blossomed like roses. The dowry Henry asked for was so high that she didn’t get married until she turned sixteen, not because Harald could pay it all but after she promised to pay the rest over time. Her stepmother was happy to have a hand at home, yet couldn’t resist Henry and let her go.
There is no heaven on earth, there may not be a heaven either. But if there’s a land to consider so, as long as you won’t look for sea, river or lake, won’t mind mountains and being cut-off from the rest of the world during the long winter when snow closes roads, and temperatures never rising enough for you to walk around bare-chest even in summer, for many, including them Svalians who are proud of their home, Damaria is the first and the sole candidate.
It was founded by the order of the legendary King of Wanda Warson the Great, who united south and conquered large parts of north, right after he conquered Leira and razed it to the ground, and killed each and every living being on its soil thereof, not only humans but also animals, plants and trees, contrary to the prophecy of the court soothsayer. He demolished the monastery on the islet sitting at the heart of Argenta, his capital, once he returned to spend the winter at home, buried alive all the monks and nuns inside as spilling their blood was deemed inappropriate and he didn’t need to upset his people in the eve of such majestic work, and a temple for the goddess was built away from his eyes around which Damaria grew. He then appointed his brother as the ealdorman, mostly to keep him away and from the throne, which later proved itself to be probably the smartest move, granting him such authority that the city could easily be considered autonomous and independent from the Crown, and hence started the city’s history.
Damaria is the highest settlement on earth, making it physically the closest city to the heavens but the reasons for them folk to consider it as that are different. There is found the best of the best of anything – from men to grains, from tools to buildings, and even of animals and water. Their cows produce the most milk, as does the soil. The blacksmiths forge the best swords and their horses are the fastest. Legend later said that the goddess blessed the land and kept it for herself, which is why no land is comparable.
-IV-
Anna and Harald entered the city towards evening and direct went to the townhouse, which was a castle of its own sort where Lord John resided, and owed their allegiance and loyalty. They were given a dwelling, the last home on the northern end of the city. It was lot tinier than what they had in Gaba but Anna loved it the moment she saw it. This one-bedroom place had a fireplace at the centre, heating both the living room and the bedroom at the same time, the kitchen was at the corner of the living room and there were only a table, three chairs, a bed, a closet, and two chests as wares. The best thing for Anna was the toilet which connected to sewers making not only home but the whole city free of shit smell. She loved it so much so that even the paved roads came secondary.
“Not much, but should be enough for you two for now” said Edmund, then one of the chief officers of John. “You can furnish to your taste over time”. Then he turned to Harald. “You have a free week to settle, then starts work. On third day shall a feast for your arrival be held, get to know the city and the folk meanwhile”.
Hence their new life started. Anna turned eighteen that year and Harald turned twenty-three. Both were happy. Anna regained not only her will to live but also her love to Harald. The burden of the past started to fade away in their memories. Harald was working hard as did Anna, and they made friends in short notice. They had more money and better people. What more could one want?
A child of course!
On second month Anna started feeling something in her tummy. Two more months and it started growing visibly. In winter came their son Andon, who managed to survive the cold and stay alive, whom Anna considered her firstborn and loved more than Harald. Was it possible to love someone more than him? Well, it seemed to be the case. Harald was no happy than her. This little home was full of joy and the two, or the three if babies can feel such things, were the happiest people on earth.
Life went on. Two years later was born her second boy and the third afterwards, and in the end her daughter whom Anna had dreamt of all her life. They had made enough to buy another place closer to the centre, a two-story house with a small yard behind, and furnished it so tastily that folk came to ask Anna to redesign theirs.
But the new home brought the past to present.
In the beginning of spring Ralph asked for soldiers for the expedition on Yarkan from John. Harald, thinking he owes this much to his lord and city, volunteered. Anna wasn’t happy with his decision but he soothed her. “I’ll be back love, with honour and dignity not buyable with coin”.
“What if you won’t?” the girl asked with tears.
“That won’t happen” he said hugging her and Andon, and asked her to bring some water. “Then you’ll be this home’s father, be a better man than I” he whispered to the boy. Andon didn’t get a thing, neither he needed to.
-V-
He returned in October but he was Harald no more – or was Harald as he once was. He was drinking while not working, treating Anna as if she was her enemy, losing coin on gambling table and spending nights at the bathhouse with the wenches. Anna’s hell had returned but gods had more in mind. In late December Andon got sick and died on his birthday. Having lost her husband yet once more Anna was weak, and Andon’s death came to be the fatal blow. What she thought to have forgotten became the only memories in her mind, and the good years spent in Damaria but dreams. Anna died with Andon, waiting for the time of her burial.
Months later she got pregnant at a night when Harald was so lazy to go to the bathhouse and rather slept with her for the first time in a long while, kinda unwillingly but still with passion. She didn’t care if Harald would change again, neither did he. Now with the big tummy was she less desirable and Abigail, the new girl was hotter than hell and even than once Anna was, knew so many tricks that few could match. It was funny. Anna turned twenty and eight that year and as in the past, now she was admired by all men except one – the only one that was expected to do so.
Hence there she was. Alone with her children in the cold home as there was no one to rekindle the long-dead fire, with pain which grew more and more with every passing minute, and with three hungry children who needed a bite to go to sleep, which couldn’t be served by their mother.
Anna hardly managed to knock the door of their neighbour and asked the guy to call Mona the midwife. The man pitied her and agreed to cross the town in this howling night. In a minute he left and an hour later Mona appeared on Anna’s door with tools and two gals. “I told you to come to me” she rebuked. “This is not right. Not right at all”. Ordered one girl to set fire and boil water, and the other to find clean sheets. Soon everything was set: there was water and sheets, and the children were fed. Anna was laid on the bed with valerian, chamomile and lavenders around to soothe her. Amens of the girls filled the room as Mona read the rites. She made a cut on her left arm and did the same on Anna’s. Two drops of blood are mixed, cleaned by a tiny piece of cloth and burned on fire.
“Here we sacrifice our blood and may gods spare their lives. We may begin.”
Anna’s legs were raised once the cloth burned fully and labour begin. Both girls were massaging Anna with Mona directing all three for it to be as short and painful as possible –
Still it was long and painful – not only for Anna but for all. “Breathe my girl, breathe. Now hold it and push, push! Harder, stronger, push”! One try, two, three… Three hours later, just at the midpoint between midnight and sunrise a head showed up. Another push, with a cry helped Mona to grab the head and pull the baby.
“It’s a boy, my girl. You have a boy!”
Anna was indifferent. She slowly and slightly raised her head to look at him and dropped it back and informed Mona. “There’s more, I feel it”.
“Twins? You carried a heavy burden.”
They went on. More massages, more prayers, more pushes and came the second, this time a girl with beautiful red cheeks. Was it over? Nay, not yet. Mona was a seasoned one, making her living from midwifery for over thirty years, yet hadn’t seen a triplet ever.
All were tired but there was no time to rest. The last comer proved itself to be a hard one, needing more effort by all to reach to the cervix. Once there, though, it took no effort to leave the mother’s body and came out almost all by itself.
“Another boy! Girl, it’s my first, probably of Damaria as well. Tell John and he’ll raise them all in the palace!”
She checked if the boy was well. Face, arms, legs… All was good except the right hand: it was clenched so tight and hard, Mona needed to apply force to open it and saw a blood clot. She lost her balance and was about to fall and drop the boy. She managed to stand still though, but the words her sister once told kept repeating in her brain. “No, no. It can’t be” she thought, cleaned the boy herself and put next to his mother. “No, this cannot be. No. It’s just… It’s not real. No one thinks that it’s real. No, I’m just making it up”.
She hardly put herself on the sofa in front of the window. Her sister’s voice got stronger and stronger in her mind. “No one believes in this, not even you. Ashes and dust, sign and sun” she mumbled, shook her head and slapped herself. “We came here by midnight; it can’t be that late” she thought and hardly raised her head from the sofa. The sun was behind the mountains but the rays already were dancing on the sky.
“No!”