Chapter 22 Order of White
“Mother, why do you only leave a tiny pirog here? You cook a greater one for Babushka.” Rose did not know her inquiry was rude. Elena batted her daughter’s hand away from the stuffed bread.
“You must not touch that after it is placed. It is not ours anymore.” Elena watched her daughter shrug and climb up the trunk of a tree, her spirit not injured in the least.
Her curiosity was not hurt either for she simply changed to a different question. Amazing that today was Rose’s birthday for like the seasons she had not changed a bit.
“Mother what would hurt snow?” Rose had made it to her destination far out on the thickest branch. Her mother was kneeling before the shrine. She smiled up at her daughter.
“You speak of it as something living.” Elena brushed off her dress as she stood. Rose had not the patience for prayers yet.
“Well several days ago I saw a bird that was all white. What if it were made of snow? Could anything hurt it?” Rose looked up at the nest above her. It looked to be abandoned.
“Did you sneak up to play with Sadko’s geese? Has he returned home?” Her Mother was more concerned with the latter than the first. Sadko had not come to play his music at dinner the last two nights yet someone said they had seen movement behind the shutters of his hata.
“No, I do not want Father to be angry with me.” Rose used a stick to lift the empty birds nest down to her. “Father said he would come home early so I could practice lessons with him and then he will show me how to make better traps.”
Elena sighed; Ivan had been a more attentive Father since Sadko’s disappearance. It was probably because of his guilt for the words he had spoken.
“Mother, I want to know how to trap snow. I cannot speak of snow with Father or Babushka for they get mad.” Rose dropped down from the tree. The branch she had climbed up on had not been that high.
“You cannot trap snow Rose. When you do it melts.” Elena cupped her hands with a fond memory. “Snow does not like heat or sun or warm skin.”
“Is there a way to keep it melted for good?” Rose examined the nest, it was much better than any of the baskets she had made.
“Rose, it has been melted, for good, look around you.” Elena took her daughters hand and they began to walk.
“What about when it sneaks in during the cold of the morning.” Rose twisted a loose strand by her ear wondering if she was saying too much.
“Darling, that is hardly snow. That is the Frost. He is a servant of Father Winter but still mingles with autumn and spring even summer at times. The Frost can be unexpected even though you feel the cold of his arrival.”
“Can you speak to it?” Rose pondered, “Tell it to go away?”
Elena pinched the bridge of her nose. “You are trying to get me in trouble with your Grandmother aren’t you? Only she knows how to keep the cold out. Mine are the old ways of the order of white. These ways only invited the Old Jack in.”
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“Why do you call it the Old Jack?” Rose’s eyes lit up remembering that name before.
“Well,” Elena stopped walking, looking around nervously to see if anyone might approach unseen and hear this forbidden lesson.
“There are many Jacks you see, wise creatures and godly servants who walk among men. The Frost is just one of them. It’s a special kind of creature that has a fascination with humans, mostly women. It is a trickster and also a rogue. If you play a grand trick it may deem you worthy to speak too. If you trick a Jack it will give you a reward. And if a Jack is tricked three times something wondrous will happen.”
“What?” Rose’s eyes were wide.
“It is impossible. No one has ever tricked a Jack. Many have hunted them and sought to steal their powers; each Jack is different and has a different set of rules and rewards. They often disguise themselves or use other animals or objects to do their bidding. They say that Jack Frost is the Jack of all Jacks. So skillful in his elements of water, air and earth that he earned the friendship of the Ferryman as a comrade. No mortal has ever tricked him either.”
“Do you mean the Ferryman who carries us to the other side? Do you mean Death?” Rose paled even as her mind bubbled with more questions.
Elena nodded gravely, “Because of this most mortals do not even risk whatever reward there may be. The Frost has learned well from his comrade the ability to take lives with a single touch. He feels no remorse once the deed is done considering it a gift to his dear friend for the talent.” Seeing the look of fright on her daughter’s face Elena amended her telling. Yet she did not lie for fear of bringing down Father Winter’s wrath. “As a Jack he does have a curious sympathy to mortals. He understands the imbalance of such an arrangement with his abilities. He tries to only take mortals that death deems ripe giving them every opportunity to live for the mere sport of it. Any real challenger that faces him is usually another immortal.”
“Was it your Mother who taught you of this because of the order of White?” Rose tilted her head as her mother stooped down to pick a flower.
“Well no.” Elena blushed. “Though, my Mother was present with me.” She tucked the flower behind Elena’s ear. “When she knew my sight was growing stronger she took me up the hill to cast the blessings of the elements into the waters of the well. Fedor would appear and tell me what was to be said to make our waters clear and cool. He was for a long while my greatest teacher and friend. He also spoke on behalf of the deities, mostly Father Winter. Mother had a difficult time seeing him as much as I could. So many other responsibilities burdened her mind. After the first snows Fedor and I would tumble down the hill or slide down it using the large bucket. We rushed with such speed over the snow. He would often jest in a scary manner pretending to fall and crack his head and then he would disappear.
“Will I get to speak to Fedor someday?” Rose jumped up and down. Sliding down a hill sounded like great fun.
Elena nearly stuffed her apron in the child’s mouth. The sight was something she never wished her child to have. These many years she refused to use her own for fear of what she might see. “No you must not Rose not ever! As I told you these were the old ways, mistaken arts of worship. Our foolishness only made Father Winter content to stay here. Fedor knew this for he was and is his agent. Back then our village suffered and beasts’ waged war against us. That is why I give Fedor only small thanks, too great and his vanity will overwhelm us.”
“What do you put in his little pirog?” Rose raised a brow and tapped her foot in a curious manner that made her Mother hold in laughter. Though she knew she was doing wrong speaking of these old memories to her daughter it was a relief and release.
“Mostly apples and mint,” she smiled, “I remember even making garlands out of mint when I went to visit with him and it was not snowing. The essence of winter lies inside that strange plant even though that is when it does not grow. The apples are small.”
“Mother I wish to make one. A pirog I mean.” Rose tucked the little nest away in a pocket in her cape. At this point a smart woman should have been alarmed. Elena was not a smart woman. All of the greatest knowledge she had retained she had just given to her child. She no longer felt a fear of discovery, only a maternal pride. Finally! Finally! Elena had gotten Rose to want to learn how to cook.