
by
Frelga » Sat May 01, 2004 1:09 pm
Part 3.
Up at our village, the air was colder and autumn older. The work was a race against the cruel time when no more food or fuel could be found than was stored away now, and the snow-filled passes cut off all hope of help. Every time we were together, my parents would say the same words over and again. By the end of the fifth day, I could hear them in my head even when they were silent.
“Radesh, it is time you went to Gingush,” mother said. Gingush was the village where Tamiko’s family lived.
“You heard what he said,” father broke in. “She will say no. She wanted Alamys to refuse even before anybody asked her.” Or pretended to ask, I thought, since neither family had choice in the matter.
“But if we won’t ask, how can she say yes or say no? We have to ask. The elders will talk to her if she refuses at first.”
“It is true enough that they will come to us if we don’t go,” conceded father. “Still, it’s a long way to climb just to be insulted by a foolish girl.”
Round and round the talk went. Round and round went dry leaves, and every blast of wind felt colder than the last one. And here we were, worried about a girl who did not want to marry me.
“If she doesn’t want me, then I do not want to marry her either.” I did not mean to raise my voice, but the words burst out.
“Radesh!” mother said weakly. Father frowned, and my brother’s eyes went wide. And just then I heard the hooves. Givi was back from the valley and free to visit at last.
Givi lived only a short way down, and he used to run all the way from his house to mine. Until nine years ago, when Givi, a young rider on an untried horse, startled a snow leopard from his nap. The horse spooked, tried to run, and went down among sharp stones, crushing Givi’s leg.
The bones healed well enough for Givi to walk with a painful limp. Not well enough to have any chance at winning Lykhnasta, which included a foot race and the final wrestling contest. Still, he passed the other three trials and now could ask a girl to marry him.
We went to sit in the orchard, sheltered by the stone wall. Mother brought bread and cheese for the guest, and Givi told her of the upcoming marriages as he ate. Then she went into the house, leaving me to tell my troubles to my best friend. The few remaining leaves above us glowed with their own little sunset.
“They say you can see the sea from the far slopes of Mkinvari,” Givi was saying. “I have always wanted to go that way. They have a new king down below, and he is building a new city on the shore. I would like to see it some day.”
“Not this winter," I replied. “The upper passes will close any day now. I’ve never seen the snow get so low so early.”
“In all of your years, child?”
I jumped to my feet and pulled Givi up with me. Old Vakhtang stood on the path that led to our door, stooping a little over his staff. The polished wood gleamed like copper.
“Good... good evening and good health, Grandfather,” I stammered, gathering my wits and my courtesy. “Will you honor our house and be our guest tonight?
“And good evening to you both. Thank you, Radesh, I am staying with my granddaughter. I see your parents kept you busy. It is well. The winter is coming fast and even I do not recall many years like this one. If the snow is the worst thing in the passes, we will be lucky.”
He would not name the menace but my heart raced even at that oblique hint. Beside me, Givi stirred eagerly.
“Have you ever seen… one, Grandfather?”
“Yes, Givi, as you well know, when my oldest son was younger than you are now.” Vakhtang was silent for a moment and I began to hope for a story. But he turned to me. “I came to ask you, Radesh, when are you going to your bride’s village? This is not a year to postpone weddings.”
Vakhtang had old eyes, circled with pink and half covered by wrinkles. Yet they shone with wisdom beyond my measure. I found myself staring at my own shoulder, feeling stubborn and childish.
“Grandfather,” I began, and then I had to go on. “What if… what if I wanted another girl for a wife?”
“Whom would you rather have, Radesh?”
“Someone who would rather have him, perhaps,” Givi cut in. “Is it any secret that Tamiko was hoping for Behoe to win?”
“Behoe didn’t win.” Vakhtang showed no surprise at my friend’s boldness, and Givi went on.
“He did not disgrace himself. Let Tamiko marry him, if such is her choice. It is only a custom.”
“And for a custom to endure, it must not be broken. The people must know that a thing has always been done in the same way, or there won’t be anything left of it.”
“And if there isn’t, what of that? Are we mountain goats to break our horns while a female waits for a winner? Are we dogs, to be paired off so that the master can have a choice litter?”
“Givi!” I gasped. That crude speech from Givi, who polished his words to mirror the beauty he saw around him! I reached to touch his shoulder, but he turned on me with a fury that made me back off a step.
“Had I been born this way, they wouldn’t let me marry at all.” He pointed to his crippled leg. “I had to stand there like a stork with my bow, as if arrows were more important than words. Tell me, Grandfather, do songs count for nothing and only swords matter?”
“The songs count for much, Givi, but they will not keep your family warm in winter nor bring food to your babies. You have known only years of peace, child, but they are short. There is always another army looking for a way through, and the mountains that protect us can be as cruel as men. We must take at least as much care choosing mates for ourselves as we do for our dogs, or your grandchildren's children won't live through the winter to see the spring.”
He looked at me again. “Do not delay, Radesh.” With that, he turned and walked away down the path, with a slow but sure step.
We stood a while, watching Vakhtang go. Givi leaned against the wall, black eyes fixed on me from deep under straight black eyebrows.
“I didn’t help you much, did I?” he said at length. “I am sorry, Radesh.”
“It’s no worse now than it was before,” I shrugged.
But it was worse, I thought. Vakhtang chose to honor me by coming to talk to me and not to my parents. He would not do so again and all my chance of reasoning or pleading was lost. I felt my anger rise against my friend. And then I felt his pain slice at me through the habit of nine years. I never considered what Lykhnasta was like for him.
“Givi...” I started, and then another thought stopped the first and my voice went cold. “Givi, did you say it was no secret about Tamiko?”
“Not if you have a younger sister. The girls were whispering about it since the Sunswing.”
“And you chose not to tell me?”
“What would it matter if I did? You would still fight to win,” said my best friend.
Last edited by
Frelga on Mon Feb 15, 2016 12:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.