The cool shadows of the trees hide me from Raiko’s sight. I’m crouched behind an oak on the low ridge, watching him in secret. Raiko is a shepherd. For four months now, he has been grazing the village's sheep and goats. One day he came looking for work in our village, and Aunt Denka took him in. Aunt Denka was a strong woman. She became a widow early, and life dealt her many hardships. But she kept her house and her animals and never complained to anyone. When Raiko came to our village and hired on as shepherd, he asked if there was a house where he might spend the night. Aunt Denka took him under her wing and gave him a roof over his head. He had become like a son to her.

I watched him leaning against the tree trunk in the shade, his handsome head bowed over his lap, his fingers whittling at something. I can’t see what. Strands of his dark-blond hair, bleached at the ends by the sun, stirred with every movement. I ache to touch him, to stroke that young man’s face with its rough new beard. The wanting hurts so badly that a sharp pain goes through my chest and steals my breath. Perhaps it would be better to fall right here by the river and let my soul fly up to heaven. My lips whispered in a hurry. I beg God to make my end quick.

The young man lifts his head to check the flock, which grazes restlessly on the thick grass along the winding river. In the distance, the heat haze makes the countryside shimmer and blurs the outlines of the mud-brick houses. Several sheep jerk their heads up. They look ready to scatter wherever their legs will carry them, and then, spooked by something, they bolt towards the village. Raiko jumps to his feet and tears after them, his heavy stick in hand. If he doesn’t stop them, they’ll take the entire flock with them.

“Hey! Back, you devil! Back! What’s got into you? Where are you running off to, plague take you!”

He turns them around and settles beneath the tree again. He wipes his tired forehead on his sleeve. Ah, how I wish I were the sleeve of that shirt! I would caress his dear face, brush against those firm lips… A pleasant flutter creeps through my belly. Whatever anyone says, no one can forbid me from bringing water to the young man my heart has chosen. Not Father, not Mother, not my brother Georgi… If only I could tell them who my heart pines for. If only I could… But I know there is no use.

Let people say what they will. I know Raiko is no wicked man. He is gentle and hardworking − what more could anyone want? So he has no money. Have we always had any? Mother told me about the first years of her marriage. If Father saw me hiding in the brush like this now, he would skin my back. I sigh. Lately, that seems to be all he is good for − shouting at me over this and that.

Around here, a girl cannot simply go trailing after young men. My apron is full of herbs, its corners tucked into my belt so nothing spills out. I tighten my grip on the handle of the glass jug of spring water I filled at the village fountain earlier and straighten behind my hiding place. Raiko tips his canteen up and drains the last into his mouth.

Just in time.

“Hey, Raiko!” I step out from behind the oak on the ridge and wave.

He sees me, and his face lights up. His lunch lay beside him-a chunk of bread and a wedge of cheese that Aunt Denka had tucked into his bag.

After a lunch like that, he’s bound to be thirsty! I think.

“Where are you off to, Irina?” he called in greeting.

“Went for water. Then I thought I’d gather some St. John’s wort as well. Be a sin to let it scorch out here in the meadow. The Lord gives freely; all we have to do is gather what He gives.” My hand brushes the bulging apron over my belly, and I blush without meaning to. “Have you got water? Want me to pour you some?”

“Bless you. God himself sent you to me. I just finished mine. Not a drop left.” Raiko shakes the empty canteen as I come closer. Our eyes meet, and under those dark eyes I go soft all over.

“Tomorrow I’ll knead you a loaf,” I murmur, because I can think of nothing else to say when he hands the jug back.

He smiles and nods.

All the way home, I carry the spark in his eyes inside me, bright as a little candle flame.

***

I’m kneading bread. Bending over the kneading trough makes my lower back ache, but my hands keep turning the soft dough while flour dust drifts through the surrounding air. I hum quietly to myself. My heart feels light. Two loaves are already rising in the trough beside me, one for my brother and one for Father, because they are going out to plough tomorrow. The third loaf is for Raiko.

No one knows. I mean to give it to him in secret.

A small lock of dark hair slips from beneath my headscarf and falls across my eyes. I lift a hand to tuck it back, and the gold earrings at my ears chime. My face feels hot. I feel the warmth of the flush on my cheeks, though I couldn’t say whether it is from the work or from thinking about Raiko.

I notice my mother, Mara, standing in the kitchen doorway. She is a work-worn woman with a face weathered by wind. I know she is watching me because I can feel her eyes fixed on me.

I wait for her to speak.

I already know what she is thinking. Lately, she has been saying the same thing over and over. I was almost seventeen and still had no suitor. At my age, Mother had already borne her first child, my brother Georgi. When she came into womanhood, her family married her off young, and she became the bride of Petko the goldsmith. At first they were always poor, but Father had a trade and provided for them. Mother worked alongside him, kept the entire household going from morning to night, and helped in the workshop as well. Little by little, things improved. Father had been a capable young man, and word of the beautiful jewellery his fingers made spread throughout the district. Petko put some money aside, enlarged the workshop, and hired an assistant. They prospered.

And with that, his pride prospered too.

Petko began thinking of himself as somebody. He forgot where he had started and how tight his belt had once been, when children kept coming, and he had to work from dawn till dark just to put food in their mouths.

Now Father would not marry into just any family. He kept putting off finding me a husband.

Last year the furrier’s son from across the river asked for me, but Father refused him.

“Irina is to marry a man of means! He must be a match for us!” he told the matchmakers.

Later, I overheard him talking to Mother.

“She is my only girl! I can’t give her to some wastrel and have her work herself to the bone for a chunk of bread!”

Yordan, Ganyo the sawyer’s boy, dared cast his eye my way too. Father nearly kicked him out of our house. After those two refusals, the young men drew back. Apparently, I, Irina, was not a match for just anybody.

Left to Father’s will, I had no way to oppose him, so I quietly accepted what he wanted. It suited me well enough. There was only one young man in my thoughts, anyway.

Raiko.

Yet something would not let me rest. I saw the change in Father’s eyes whenever he looked at me. At first there would be a heat in them that made me want to shrink away; then it would vanish, leaving them cold. It frightened me.

What was eating at him inside? What was he fighting so hard to keep hidden?

“Irina, that’s enough kneading,” Mother said. “One loaf between the two of them will fill their bellies. I’ve roasted some sausage for dinner. Come help me with the veranda.”

“I’m coming, Mama. I also kneaded a loaf for Raiko the shepherd. The other day, I made a promise to Aunt Denka. She said she’d run out of flour.”

I straighten, dust off my hands, and tug my apron down. The lock of hair slips free again. When I reach up to tuck it back beneath the scarf, I smear flour across my face. I catch Mother’s frown and feel myself flush.

“Father Kiril promised to bring her some flour from the mill, but… curse that head of his. He’s forgotten.”

“You tell your Aunt Denka our flour isn’t for free,” Mother scolded. “Yesterday she asked me for a spoonful of oil for her soup. We’re not running a shop. Your father breaks his back every day so you can have clothes on your body and shoes on your feet. Raiko has a job. If his money doesn’t stretch far enough, let him find more. And don’t you dare start giving things away behind your father’s back again, do you hear? I’ll be the one he turns on when people come here begging. Come on! The sun’s going down, and we still haven’t swept that veranda. The men will be home soon.”

“I’m coming, Mama…”

I dart past her, my face on fire, and hurry for the broom in the yard.

Mother turns after me and sighs.

“Ah, youth! Curse it!”

A mother’s heart knows such things. She understood well enough that mine had stirred for the shepherd. And I knew Father would never agree. Mother would probably talk to me later and try to drive the boy from my head before Father interfered.

But she was already too late.

***

Two oil lamps cast a mild light around the room. My brother Georgi and Father sit on the low couch eating roasted sausage, tomatoes, and the bread I baked earlier.

I wait on them.

Mother is in the little kitchen, where we have set some of the food aside for the two of us. Those are the customs of our household − the women eat separately from the men.

I bend towards Father to refill his wine. My blouse shifts across my firm white chest. Nothing escapes Father’s watchful eyes. He notices the movement at the open neck of my shirt, catches himself, and glances up at my face instead.

His hand trembles when he reaches for the glass.

“Irina, your mother tells me you baked three loaves today. Two for us and one for the shepherd,” he growls.

I shrink beneath the hard stare coming from under his thick, greying brows.

His knuckles whitened around the glass.

Here it comes again. Another scolding. I say nothing.

“Who gave you the right to hand out my flour to those peasants? You mean to make a laughingstock of me!”

His fist comes down on the table.

I stare at the floor, burning red.

My brother joins in at once, naturally, to avoid being left out.

“Irina, you know you can’t do that. People will start talking. They’ll think you’re giving the shepherd encouragement.”

“But Aunt Denka asked me-”

I barely open my mouth before Father roars.

“Not another word! Your Aunt Denka − I know her tricks well enough! Today it’s this, tomorrow it’ll be something else, and before you know it, she’ll have walked into my house with a son-in-law behind her. They’ll bleed me dry! Listen to me, Irina!”

His fist struck the low table again.

“From this day on, you are not to speak to Denka. You are not to meet her. And when you see Raiko, you go the other way before he comes anywhere near you. Do you hear me? Otherwise, I’ll beat you half dead!”

I give the smallest nod and curse the stinging tears watering my eyes. Something bitter wedges itself in my throat.

Father, thoroughly roused now, keeps going.

“One daughter I have, and I’ll beat you myself if I must! I’ll send somebody to watch you and see what you’re getting up to. You’ve grown too bold with me!”

He holds out his hand.

“Ask for forgiveness.”

Trembling, I take Father’s heavy hand and lift it towards my mouth. My lips barely touch it. What I deeply want is to sink my teeth into his flesh. Instead, my lips mumble:

“Forgive me, Father…”

He flicks his hand irritably, dismissing me.

“Don’t let me see your face again tonight.”

“Yes, Father…”

My brother sits importantly beside him and says nothing in my defence. No doubt he’ll have plenty to say about me once I leave.

I had barely set the wine jug beside the divan before I hurried to the cupboard, crying openly now. I take out the loaf wrapped in cloth, snatch up several more cloths to hide it beneath, and clutch the bundle to my chest.

Come what may, I’m giving that bread to Raiko.

And afterwards I’ll throw myself into the old well at the edge of the village, the one choked with silt that no one uses for water anymore.

Let them search for me then.

The thought puts a strange sweetness into the pain beneath my ribs.

“I’m going to wash the clothes…” I whispered and rushed outside.

But curiosity gnaws at me. I want to know whether I’ve been wrong about my brother. I pressed myself against the door and listened.

“Irina…” Father sighed once I had left the room. “That girl will be the death of me. She’ll grow too old for marriage at this rate, but what am I supposed to do? I can’t give her to some worthless man.”

My brother has a honeyed tongue when he wants one, and he immediately sets about currying favour.

“God bless you, Father. Irina’s a good girl. Quiet too. Her time will come. A good apple tastes best when it’s ripe.”

“And when it’s overripe, the pigs eat it!” Petko snaps. “Look at her. I know exactly how long she’s been a maiden. It breaks my heart to see her sighing and going quiet the way she does. And those eyes of hers… She walks about as if she’s half-dreaming.”

Georgi falls silent. Perhaps he is gathering his courage. After a while, I hear him say:

“I’m the same, Father.”

“You’ve found yourself a match, have you? Who is it?”

Silence again.

This will end badly.

The tears dried on my cheeks. Burning with curiosity, I edged closer and peeped through the windowpane.

“Maria Tsanina’s granddaughter. Rada.”

My eyebrows rose. I never expected that from my brother.

At once I see her in my mind: a barefoot, slender, sun-kissed young woman with big black eyes and a long, thick black braid hanging almost to her calves. Father also takes aback. Even through the glass, I hear the displeasure in his voice.

“Really, that one? The Gypsy girl?”

“Don’t talk about her like that, Father,” Georgi says, trying to defend himself. “Rada’s a good girl. Hardworking. She’s in the fields all day.”

“Her father makes bowls, boy!”

Father claps his hands in exasperation.

“Georgi! I won’t hear another word about it.”

“She’s in my heart and in my thoughts. I want no one else. When I meet her by the fountain in the evening, and she smiles at me, it’s as though a rose has opened right there in front of me.”

Father’s voice carries through the entire house.

“You and Irina will make me ill! I’ve spent my life keeping this family together, and for what? So we can spill our fortune into the street? You’ve lost your mind! Do you want me marrying into my family with Gypsies? Shame on you!” and he spits.

Georgi gives as good as he gets.

“Yes, but you married Mara for love, yourself!”

Father’s palm cracks across my brother’s cheek. Georgi reels and catches himself against the wall.

I clamp down on the sound rising in my throat before I give myself away. Father struck him hard. That ear of his will probably ring for a week. My eyes track them feverishly.

Petko steps towards him.

“You ungrateful dog! How dare you use me as an example? I’m your father! And you- you wretch! You dare talk about Irina and Raiko!”

My brother straightens and shoves Father back with pure hatred. I know this is turning ugly, and I hurry down the stairs.

A moment later, Georgi bursts outside like a cork from a bottle. He doesn’t see me; I hide in the shadows of the courtyard.

“I’ll show him,” he mutters through his teeth, frothing with rage.

“Mara!” Petko’s dominant voice rolled out after him. “Bring me the brandy and bring it now! You’ve borne me devil children! Ingrates!”

As I hurry towards Raiko’s house, I cannot quiet my thoughts. Whenever Father flew into one of his rages, Mother suffered most. She kept silent and thought I didn’t know.

But I knew everything. I knew how many kicks and blows her back had taken. I knew tonight would be no different.

There was hardly anything left of the father I remembered from when I was little. He had not drunk so much then. He had not struck the woman who had given us life. Once I became a maiden, everything seemed to turn upside down.

Petko changed.

One moment he could be tender with me; the next he was shouting and tormenting the two of us with cruelties neither of us deserved. Somehow we were always at fault.

Then came the drinking. The evenings became hell. With each passing day, whenever I was near him, Father grew more irritable, and Mother wore herself out trying to keep him pleased.

The other day he saw me by the pool while I was washing in the water. The crack of twigs from the beech grove startled me. I called out to ask who was there, and Father stepped from behind the branches with his rifle in his hand. He looked at me as though there was something he wanted to say. Then he walked on.

He frightens me.

I cannot stop wondering what is gnawing at him from the inside. Sometimes I tell myself it is only his age beginning to weigh on him, but I can feel there is something else. Something he is determined to hide from us. His temper frightens me. The way he looks at me frightens me more.

My back goes cold whenever his eyes settle on me. I don’t like him this way.

And I don’t like him drunk, because when he drinks, Mother and I know what kind of night is coming.

***

The sun sinks behind the trees, staining the sky blood-red. Blue dusk settles over the village until people’s troubles and hopes disappear. One bright star comes out above the horizon, and the pale moon works its way between torn scraps of cloud crawling across the sky.

I make my way down the cobbled street in silence, almost on tiptoe, so no one will hear or see me. If anyone sees where I’m going, they will tell Father, and he’ll beat us both. I clutch the bread to my chest. My heart keeps hammering. I am frightened, yet I can hardly bear the waiting either.

My feet carry me to the gate of the house where Raiko lives with Aunt Denka. I stare at the plain wooden gate. Part of me wants to turn around. I almost lost my nerve at the thought of defying Father so openly. Then I remembered the gleam in his eyes when I bent over to pour his wine. It was not the first time he had looked at me in that strange way.

I have to tell Raiko. Tonight. I press my lips together. There is no room left for shame.

I am giving Raiko the bread. I baked it for him, didn’t I?

I reach out and lift the latch.

I step quietly into the yard, but the dog catches my scent and begins barking. Once it realises who has come, it settles down, but Raiko is already outside to see what all the noise is about. When he sees me standing on the flagstones before the door, he breaks into a broad smile. Something in me loosens at the warmth of his welcome.

“Good evening, Irina,” he says, his voice low and gentle in the surrounding quiet.

His gaze dropped to the bundle pressed against my chest.

“A good evening to you too, Raiko…”

I lower my eyes, but the heat in my face betrays me even in the early dusk.

“I brought you the bread I promised to bake.” I hold out the cloth-wrapped loaf.

Our eyes meet, and that familiar little thrill moves through me again. Raiko takes the bread, its comforting weight settling into his palm.

“Blessed be your hands, Irina,” he says. “Wait here. I’ll bring your cloth back.”

Before I can answer, he disappears into the house to exchange the wrapping cloth.

I force myself to find my courage. I have to tell him. He will help me. I know he will. There can be no turning back from what I have decided.

What drew me to Raiko was the quietness in him. The way he slowly plaited wreaths for me. The way his brow creased while he thought, and how he always waited before giving an answer.

Then Father’s hard eyes rise before me again, watching everything I do. I remember his cruel orders. Damn him. Raiko is my salvation.

Raiko appears in the doorway again, breaking through my thoughts.

He offers me the cloth.

“Keep it, Raiko…” I begin.

My voice fails. Raiko’s hand stops in mid-air. His eyes searched mine.

“Won’t your family ask after it?”

“No. Father said I’m not to come here anymore. Or speak to you.”

His face falls. Raiko turns the cloth over in his hands, then tucks it into his belt because he plainly does not know what else to do with it.

“But we have done nothing wrong.”

“I know, Raiko. But… so that we don’t.”

I move closer to him. My heart beats so hard I can feel it against my ribs.

“Father will never give me to you.”

“And would you have me, Irina?” Raiko narrowed his eyes slightly as the space between us dwindled with every step I took.

I cannot hold back my smile. I nod.

His entire face changed. His hands closed around my shoulders, and he stared at my face.

“You’re all I want. I don’t want your money, your house, or your dowry. Aunt Denka has put a little something aside for us. I’ve been talking to her about you for ages. Just say you’ll have me, my heart.”

I nod again because whatever has risen inside me has taken every word from my mouth.

Is this love, then? To feel as light as sunlight touching dew-wet grass? As strong as the wind when it comes over the mountain ridges?

I settle quietly against his chest and breathe in the smell of his clothes, the clean scent of the soap he washed with. A happy sigh escapes me.

“Shall we go inside, Raiko? I have so much to tell you.” I whisper, my face lifted towards his.

In the broken evening shade, his eyes seemed larger than before, gentle and full of promise.

“You know I have no money, but I can promise you my heart will always beat for you, my soul.” He strokes my hair. “You’re all I need. Nothing else.”

I swallow. The heat inside my chest nearly chokes me. My fingers find his and close tightly around his hand.

Without another word, he led me across the threshold.

The door shut behind us.

***

I sit on the bench outside our house. I’m trembling with agitation. So badly that I cannot make myself stop. I bury my fingers beneath my apron while Mother’s words wash over me without quite taking hold.

The woman in front of me spills out one quick phrase after another. They pass through my ears without reaching my thoughts, swarming through my head until only a few words stand clear among the rest.

“Poisoned. Gone.”

Mother Mara grips my hand as though trying to shake me awake. Her eyes held mine, urgent and feverish.

“Irina! Forgive me, child! But I had to do it…”

I blink.

She pushes something heavy and cold into my lap. I look down. Her silver pafti lay across my knees − the hammered wedding buckles she wore as a bride.

Confused, I looked back at her.

“A gift for you. For when you become Raiko’s wife.” Her voice shook.

I stare at her, still unable to make sense of it.

Several tears ran down her thin cheeks.

“But we can’t…” I began.

Mother cuts me off.

“Petko’s gone! There’s no one to forbid you now. I should have done it long ago, ever since that brandy let the devil drink the soul out of him. God forgive me, but I couldn’t bear it anymore. If I’ve sinned and God means to punish me for what I’ve done, there’s no reason my children should suffer too. If Georgi wants Rada, let him have her. And I know where you spent the night tonight! Raiko is a good boy…”

I try to speak, but once again she refuses to let the thought out of my mouth.

“I know, I know. But you’re my only daughter, and I’ll not let so much as a hair on your head come to harm. I know what that cursed man was planning for you − may the black earth swallow him. May I be damned if I would have stood by and let him hurt you? Oh, I know. I know well enough. A mother’s eyes and a mother’s heart don’t lie. He wanted you! I watched him, the filthy dog.”

The strength seems to leave my body. I blink again. So it had been true. I had not imagined it. The fear that there was something wrong in what I had sensed had not deceived me. All at once, a great weight lifts from me.

“Where is he?” I barely shaped the words.

“On the low couch upstairs,” she said, brushing off her apron. Her chin rose stubbornly. “I haven’t told the priest about the burial yet. I was waiting for you to come home, and Georgi still isn’t back. We can wait until tomorrow.”

“Let’s wait, Mama.” I nod. Georgi ought to have the chance to say goodbye to the man who gave us life.

I rise and climb the steps into the house on my weak legs. With every step, one more worry slips from me, like winter furs shrugged off when spring comes.

He’s gone. He’s gone.

The words ring inside my head. I feel light. And somehow warm.

I crossed the threshold with a brief stab of guilt at the relief his absence brought me. I bless Mother for finding the courage to do it. For standing up to protect us. No one can smother me now, I remind myself as I go inside.

I see him.

He is there, his large body sprawled on his back across the divan, foam at his mouth. On the floor beside him lay a half-eaten chunk of bread, probably dropped during his last struggle for breath.

Without thinking, I bend and pick up the offering. I will keep it for the child I will have with Raiko. Perhaps one day that child will need a miracle too, and this will help, the way it has helped me now.

Somehow God had heard the silent plea for help I had carried inside me, bitter as it was.

My gaze moves over the broad, lifeless body that once filled me with fear and hatred. It is difficult to believe that Father will never rise again. Never lift your hand against us.

His face is peaceful. The harsh lines that cut into it whenever he raged have vanished; his eyes are closed now and forever.

Looking at him this way, I feel sorrow and relief tangled together. He is quiet forever now, the rages in him gone and his soul relieved at last.

I cross myself.

I fell to my knees.

And I prayed.

The End

© Elissa Hess, 2024

Raiko's Bread

As you know, I love to play around with our wonderful folklore. And when a writing challenge came my way, there was no way I wasn’t going to jump at the chance! I’m sharing with you my story “Raiko’s Bread,” which took first place in the LitDesign publishing house’s “The Forgotten Language 2024.” The prompt called for us to use 10 nearly forgotten words from our rich linguistic vocabulary in the way that best suited us as authors, while telling the story in the first person.

The words the authors were required to use were as follows: cherish, supine, spring, whiff, blazing, offer, plea, hillock, lush, exhausted.

LitDesign published my short story on their website.

And now, here is the story itself below:

Did you like the story?

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