Chapter Resilience


    At first Rose ate little to nothing upon her return. How everyone could just go on gulping and slurping after the beauty of the village was slaughtered was beyond her. She constantly had to remind herself that she had been gone for longer than a week. That they had already done rites in Elena’s honor and by Ivan’s order had only just repeated them for her benefit. It was more than her mourning heart from the sorrow of her mother’s loss.


    She had come to realize the villager’s gluttony when she had been starving out in the woods and it sickened her. There was an excess here and a greed; that reminded her of what the little boy had said about the land being cursed. She looked at nothing the same anymore, all conversation shallow, simple, timid. No one talked about the bear in Ivan’s presence.  No more complaints were made when he went off hunting alone.Yet everyone still smiled at the prosperity around them. Women continued to grow round in their bellies.


    Martha for her part was ever patient and smiling. At times Rose resented her for she had taken over all the chores that her Mother had once done. She cooked in the kitchen and worked in the fields and was helping Grandmother in the art of birthing. Something even her Mother had not been allowed to do. Of course, Rose had no real interest in these things. And Martha was very sweet and loyal and so forgiven.


    Ivan’s attempts at change only made it painfully clear that things were never again to be the same. He gave the larger room in the Hata over to the girls and took Rose’s smaller room with the window. He vowed never again to take a wife. The heat in the large room was stifling. Rose constantly had nightmares of a girl screaming when she slept, of icicle hands and a great mauling bear which would turn into a brown wolf.


    When Grandmother recognized her weariness she announced, “You cannot allow yourself to be destroyed by memories. Your body must overcome such blows to the mind and spirit.” Afterwards her Father kept her nearly exhausted with exercise and training. He feared that she would be in the same situation as her Mother one day with no defense. Ivan sparred with her like he had never sparred before.  He defeated her time and time again without mercy and with different weapons from the forge they constructed together. He revealed all the tricks of his trade that she had only gleamed off of him from afar in her youth.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Grandmother too took her duties more seriously. “I must make sure you grow up to be a fine woman, not just a warrior. Your Mother would wish for it.” After Rose worked hard in her garden every morning they had lessons inside the Hata of manners, poise and elegance, even dancing. Grandmother would give instruction: while knitting, not only of one country''s ways and languages of several. Martha would demonstrate the physicalness of behaviours and at first just like with her Father Rose found she was bested. Martha must have been part of a great household of ladies for she moved with such grace and ease in these matters. However, near the end of the day in the garden was a singing lesson, aided by Grandmother’s little tuning box. Rose felt sorry for Martha who could not sing nor even speak.


    Babushka had named the fast friends sisters and called them new nicknames, Rose Red and Rose White, after the trees in her garden. She often checked Martha’s hair lovingly as well, scooping her finger up under her turban to remove one strand. She told Rose it was in Martha’s religion never to remove the headdress and Rose respected this. And so two years passed in a blur, nothing but lesson, practice, practice, lesson and Rose began to feel whole again. Better than whole she felt growth.


    One day she realized all that her Grandmother had done to get her over the grief. While she tucked her in she whispered as she used to when she had been a little younger. “Babushka, how is it that you know so much about great ladies?”


    Grandmother smiled a secretive smile that she always had when thinking upon her past.


    “I once was one in a palace long ago.” Grandmother pulled up her covers.


    “You mean this truly?” Rose could not hold down her skepticism yet she also could not deny the knowledge she had learned.


    Grandmother laughed at her expression, “Once lowly I was even a Queen.” Her voice suddenly became dark, “Until war came and I was banished I had feasting and sacrifices in my honor every night.”


    Rose did not tell her Grandmother she was sick of feasting and the sacrificing of animals for everyone to eat in celebration. Instead she changed the subject but not entirely.


    “Why was there war? What happened?” Rose sat in her Father’s antlered chair at the foot of the bed.


    “A group of men who thought themselves holy,” she spat. “Overthrew my land and scattered my followers.” She squeezed the cat on her bed and it hissed.


    Ivan opened the door. “Rose, your Grandmother wishes to sleep, let her rest.”


    Rose curtsied as taught in her rigorous lessons in the manner of one towards a queen yet allowed herself to kiss her Grandmother’s hickory cheek.


    “Grandmother, you are a great woman to triumph over such loss.”


    “And soon you shall be a great lady also.” Baba Yaga closed her eyes with a content smile. “Why else would I train you so hard?”