Renard’s men returned to the valley about half an hour later. Raissa had fought down her personal shock and terror and was working feverishly to save her husband's life. With the aid of Lucy, she had turned Sven over. The giant of a man was extremely difficult to move, even with the two of them. She had torn the edge from her dress and was trying to stem the steady flow of blood still coming from the terrible wound in his left shoulder. The man was barely breathing, and Raissa feared he would die. She had no idea how she and Lucy were going to move him to the minimal comfort of the cave.
Her mind was not helping her focus at this moment. It kept leading her to frightening scenarios, ones she did not wish to face. What if Sven died, how would they survive without a strong man here in this place? What would they do?
Fortunately with the men's return there was aid for the two struggling women, and they could at last move the gravely injured warrior into the cave to rest somewhere more appropriate. After some discussion, it was agreed that Dale and his men would ride back to the farmlands as swiftly as they were able and that supplies and a physician would be sent as soon as possible. It was really all they could offer. It was obvious to all from the outset that Sven's chances of survival were slim, and to attempt to transport him some three days distant, would not be a possibility.
*****
Raissa and Lucy settled in to care for the ailing man. True, the women were afraid to remain here so unprotected, but circumstance now dictated they must. The most pressing problem to face the two lone women, besides that of their ailing charge, was that neither woman could hunt. Raissa thought that perhaps she could use the rifle and possibly bag some small prey, but she was afraid that unwelcome ears may hear the noise and creep curious to their camp.
According to the men, every encampment and small civilization for miles around had been ransacked and decimated, however, the young woman still could not bring herself to break that silence. So they subsisted on mostly corn and goat's milk and waited for help to arrive. They still had some dry rations, but soon sustenance would become a real issue. Both women hoped that Renard’s men would return as they had promised.
In the ensuing day's wait Raissa was a tormented soul. She thought about Carlos often, and most heavily on that last interaction between them. He was a man who had been a slave just like her, a man to whom she had unreservedly given her heart and trust. She thought she had understood him. So many risks she had undertaken for his sake. Raissa was sure now she had meant nothing to him. The realization stung.
Then there was this man, Sven. The one who had fought so tirelessly to protect her and their child, selfless in his quest, and yet she never saw him. In just the same way Carlos had never seen her. This man who was now her husband languishing in his world of fever dreams.
It had been some forty-eight hours. Sven had not awakened since he fell. Raissa sat tirelessly by him tending the fire, cleansing his wounds, and trying to get him to drink some thin warm milk, and she prayed. She had never really paid that much attention to Father Andrew's benevolent God, but she called on him now with a fierceness.
Infection would take him she feared, as the big man muttered in his sleep and thrashed about. She held his giant scarred hands in her own and willed him to win this battle within. She had never realized Sven had meant this much to her. He was more than just a provider and protector. True, he was exemplary at what he did, but Raissa realized that she had loved this big rough man more than she had ever realized. She tenderly kissed his fevered brow and prayed for a miracle.
*****
The television was on in the low-ceilinged, almost over-warm lounge room in the small suburban home. Sven had to stoop to avoid the light fixture as he crossed barefoot on the plush brown carpet, beers in hand to his chair. He sat back in the recliner and turned to the man next to him watching the game, handing him a beer.
“The Crows scored another goal!” The older man said excitedly. “They can beat Collingwood!”
Sven nodded and took a swig directly from the beer can. The foam from the beverage sat on his upper lip and he licked at it with his tongue, gray eyes trained on the televised game. He wanted dearly to get his mind off his job, and the happenings he had been privy to in the last few weeks. He had to fight mentally to enjoy his leave, dark scenarios crowded his mind, and he would not give them up.
“Another goal for the Crows!”
Sven was as always glad to see his dad happy. ‘Enjoy it while you can old man.’
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, something didn’t feel right, there seemed to be a low-level pain shooting through his upper body. He took another drink of his beer. ‘I’m upset,’ he reassured himself, 'and edgy, with all this talk of war with the guys and my commanders. They won’t do it surely? I’m going to go back next week and they will have stood down. It will be like all the other times the Americans have postured and pretended.’
“Damn son! They are going to win! Would you believe it we will have a spot in the grand final!”
“Yeah.”
His father then turned to him, his big hand alighting on Sven’s forearm that lay on the elbow rest. The excitement of prior gone from his face to be replaced with seriousness. “Look after them my boy, Mum,and your brother, you promise?”
Sven turned to his father. The big armchair creaked, and the television droned on in the background, as the credits and commercials rolled.
“Yes dad, of course.”
“I know it’s probably easier just to perish.” His father continued. “It’s the survivors that have the toughest road ahead…”
“Dad stop, it will be okay, really. That’s just doom talk...”
*****
He woke, with a sudden start, barely cognizant of the woman who hovered over him speaking; Raissa. He fought to get his bearings, not understanding if he was home with his family, or somewhere else. It was early, not yet dawn, unknown to Sven two days had elapsed since he had lost consciousness and retreated into his world of guilty dreams.
He winced as he forced his reluctant body to move. He felt heavy and slow, his head hurt and he felt a strong tinge of nausea grip him. Sven fought it down. Slowly his present reality seeped in and his dream faded. He never caught what his woman was saying, and he really did not care. All he could think about was the pain running through his shoulder, and arm, and radiating into his upper torso.
“Where is he... is the bullet out?” Were his muttered first words as he looked about attempting but failing to rise. Raissa was fussing trying to steady him, and could hardly believe he had been on death's door, and that when he awoke the first thing he was worried about was where Carlos had gone. The man was in no condition to fight anyone.
“He’s far away, now rest, we will not be seeing him again.”
On the utterance of these words, Raissa felt this heavy feeling descend, like a thick fog that rose from out of nowhere. She sighed, she wished her stubborn love could just let go, it was after all a one-sided bargain she had made.
“Yes it’s out, you are just feeling the infection, after all we had nothing decent to treat it with.” Raissa attempted to reassure, pulling the covers back over him and encouraging him to again, lay down.
Stolen novel; please report.
Sven growled in disappointment, it was a primal sound from deep within his throat.
“Are you hungry?” Raissa dared inquire of the angry man.
“Was he hit?” The soldier in him would not let it go.
“I don’t think so. It was dark I really could not tell.” She lied.
She knew Carlos had escaped unscathed, the vision of him looming over her, rifle grasped with deadly purpose in his hands soared vividly into her mind's eye. But she wanted to preserve a little of her husband's dignity and allow him to think, that maybe he had at least half succeeded. Sven would never know how close he came in that moment to nonexistence, and Raissa would never tell him. She didn’t really wish to be reminded of that last interaction. It had left her feeling very betrayed. So she changed the subject back to food and her husband's recovery.
“I need to change the dressing. Renard is going to send some supplies and a Doctor…..”
“Fuck Renard!” Sven cut her off vehemently. He had no desire to see that gloating traitor, and didn’t need his charity.
Sven was in a vile mood and Raissa knew she must tread carefully, ever since his mishap at the fortress, he had never been quite the same. So she remained silent and tended him as best she was able.
*****
Renards’ men returned as they had promised on the third evening. It was obvious they had pushed their horses hard, the beast's brown hides were flecked with white foam from their exertion. They had brought with them a capable physician as they had promised. Sven was again most difficult, but with Raissa’s coaxing, he cooperated somewhat.
“My, my, you have done well young lady.” The middle-aged, bespectacled man remarked. “He is healing nicely. Not so sure Florence Nightingale, that you really needed me at all.” He smiled warmly at her and resumed rummaging through his medicine bag.
Florence who. I’m Raissa? Raissa smiled demurely at the praise, she rarely heard such sentiments directed her way in the company of these wild and rough men but had no clue what the Doctor was speaking of. She said nothing of course and sat listening dutifully as to what else she could do to help her husband make a full recovery.
Sven was irritated and angry with himself for being defeated when he should have won. He was not the most cooperative or pleasant to those who had only come to assist. He was now well enough to be obstinate, and no one could make him do anything he did not wish to partake of. He sat by the fire with his arm in a sling staring into the flames, and for the most part ignored everyone, except his son. Eirik seemed to be the only one who could coax from him a smile and a kind word.
His expression was grim as he sat looking into the fire pit, feeling the heat in his body and the heat on his face. The painkillers had dulled the ache, and he could now focus better, he gingerly tried to flex his hand and was heartened he could at least do so. He suddenly became aware that the future was being discussed a short distance away. He was the leader here, why were they speaking about him like he did not exist?
“We brought extra horses, and it seems he is well enough to attempt the ride.” Dale said to Raissa.
Raissa felt warm inside at the thought of leaving this grimy little camp at last for someplace that could offer a better life, but that happy thought was dashed in a heartbeat.
“We are not going anywhere.” Sven growled flatly without even looking up.
Raissa felt depleted at his words. They were so final. She looked at Dale awkwardly and shrugged her small shoulders, offering him no more than a wry smile. She had dearly wished to depart, she wanted to embrace a better life for her family, and she knew that Renard’s lands could offer that.
“You should go with them Lucy.” Raissa said somewhat weakly.
Lucy too shook her head and resumed stirring the stew that bubbled and boiled over the fire.
“No one is leaving.” Sven reiterated again louder, making sure that Dale could plainly hear him. He wished for no misunderstandings and just wanted the ‘enemy’ to be on their way. He shared no desire to live with a man who had betrayed him and led to his unfortunate mutilation. His feelings ran hot on this matter and he would not be swayed with talk of a more comfortable life. Besides, he had not the stomach to live among other men in his altered state, not that he would admit this to anyone.
*****
Early next dawn after the men had rested briefly, Dale and his companions departed. Raissa thanked them for the supplies they had brought, and the medical advice and help they had given her to aid her wounded husband. As they rode away tears streamed slowly down her face as she thought of the more comfortable life that she had been denied. She had not realized until then just how tired she was of simply scraping by.
She wiped her face on her dress sleeve and turned back to the camp. The fire needed tending, there was food to be prepared, water must carried up from the well, and there was a baby to care for. Life didn’t stop just because she was weary or sad.
She missed Maya and wondered if she was finding a better life? Envious of her exodus. She took a deep breath and began to put logs in the fire pit to feed the hungry coals, perhaps she would feel better if she just concentrated on the daily tasks?
The weather was no longer uncomfortably cold, so the fire was less of a necessity, but beneath the shady cave overhang, the coolness still lingered. Sven was dozing in Bennett’s old place, Raissa was never sure if the man was awake and watching her or not. She was still fighting back tears, as she tended the fire and checked the cooking pot. Today at least she felt cheated of her due. Why could he not have gone with them!
“I know what you are thinking woman.”
“Raissa eyed her man somewhat startled. The traces of tears were still very evident in her large honeyed eyes. She was sure he had been sleeping, yet, he was quietly observing her.
She shrugged and hoped he would desist. She was upset enough already at the missed opportunity. Renard was not a bad man, she could understand what he had done, and he did it for his family. Sven would have done the same.
“You think I am wrong for staying.” Sven said his voice flat giving nothing away, Raissa often found his macho stubbornness infuriating. Today was no exception.
Raissa did not respond, it was not like he valued her opinion anyway, and she didn’t want a fight. Sven may be her husband, but she was smart enough to understand she was viewed as property and always would be. A lesser being. Her opinions did not matter, and today that stung her. She hastily stirred the pot a couple more times to be sure the stew did not burn on the bottom and turned to get the water bucket.
“I’m talking to you woman.” Sven’s tone held that dangerous edge. Something she had thought he perhaps no longer possessed. Recalling the night in the cabin when he had forced her to reveal Carlos’ escape plans, and her own duplicity in them.
She turned and reluctantly sat, being mindful to sit on his injured side. She figured that would be safest. She wondered what it would be like to truly have a gentleman, but she didn’t have long to dwell on this. She watched Lucy take up the water vessel and head off to the well to give the couple privacy. She again felt a twinge of fear as she looked at the giant of a man who controlled her every wish.
“My decisions here are final Raissa.”
She looked down at the earth and toyed with the sand through her fingers. The last thing she wanted was to further incite him, but she too was angry in a way she had never been before. She felt her husband's stubbornness had no real value, and he had squandered a very real opportunity to at least give their son a better life. She was going to say nothing, but the mother in her rose with unexpected ferocity.
“What about him?” She pointed to their little boy playing with a toy she had crafted from some animal bones and hides to resemble a crude doll.
Sven did not flinch or reply, his eyes also taking in his son.
“It’s not about you or me any more, or what ‘WE’ want. Look at him. Don't you want a better future for him than this!” She gestured toward the crude encampment and its rudimentary shelters and furnishings. “We are living in the stone age!”
Sven growled a noise of caution, one she had heard before and knew she must respect. Raissa made to move away from his threat, but with a grunt of pain and more swiftly than she had anticipated he caught her arm with his good one and held her wrist firmly, pulling her to where he sat. She spun about, narrowly missing the fire, and sunk to her knees in the soft sand before him.
“The man is a traitor Raissa.” Sven hissed. “He is the enemy, you would do well to remember that.”
His stare was so cold and hate-driven that Raissa hardly recognized him, and she trembled, aware he could feel her fear.
“He led us into a trap, and left us to die on the battlefield, after he shared our fire, our food, and our lives!”
“But…”
“No buts! Sven cut her off, and the pressure increased on her wrist.
How could any man have a grip that strong? Raissa winced and tried in vain to retract her arm, there was no escaping his grip of steel or the cold of his eyes.
“You have been sheltered here, but you don’t understand woman.” Sven said clearly frustrated. “Renard and Lord Lothar are somehow allies, his people will not just blindly accept me, they have seen what we are capable of, that’s why he panicked and made a deal with Lothar. I am sure as soon as we were to set foot with in his territories, I would be arrested and returned to that man!”
Raissa didn’t know if her husband's fears were founded, she had never known Renard to be unkind. Yes, what her man had undergone was beyond horrific, but she wondered if he was overreacting. To her simplistic way of thinking if no one was to ever trust, then how could the future be better?
She felt his grip ease on her wrist, it was just as well as he was hurting her with his angry pressure.
“We will stay here and be master’s of our own destiny. There will be no happiness living under the rules of a traitor, and my word on this is final. I will hear no more understood!”
With that he let her go, but she did not rise immediately. Her eyes were locked on his, what did she spy there, hatred, regret, maybe even fear? Regardless she was still very unhappy at his decision and wished it were not so.