Primeval and Other Times

THE TIME OF RUTA

Ukleja’s Warszawa car went as far as it was possible to go. Then he had to get out and walk the last few metres on foot. He tripped on the ruts in the forest road and cursed. Finally he was standing outside Cornspike’s half tumbledown cottage, spitting with rage.

“Good woman, if you please, I’ve business to discuss with you!” he called.

Cornspike came outside and stared straight into Ukleja’s bloodshot eyes.

“I won’t give her to you.”

For a moment he lost his confidence, but instantly pulled himself together again.

“She’s already mine,” he said calmly. “She merely insists that you have to bless her. I am to ask you for her hand.”

“I won’t give her to you.”

Ukleja turned towards the car and shouted:

“Ruta!”

A moment later the door opened and Ruta got out of the car. Her hair was short now, with curls of it escaping from under a little hat. In a narrow skirt and heels she seemed very slender and very tall. In those shoes of hers she hobbled along the sandy road. Cornspike looked at her possessively.

Ruta stopped beside Ukleja and hesitantly put her arm through his. This gesture gave Ukleja the courage he needed.

“Bless your daughter, woman, because we haven’t much time.”

He gently pushed the girl forwards.

“Go home, Ruta,” said Cornspike.

“No, Mama, I want to marry him.”

“He’ll do you wrong. I’ll lose you because of him. He’s a werewolf.”

Ukleja laughed.

“Ruta, let’s go… this is pointless.”

The girl abruptly turned to face him and threw her handbag at his feet.

“I’m not going until she lets me!” she cried in anger.

She walked up to her mother. Cornspike hugged her, and they stood like that until Ukleja began to grow impatient.

“Let’s go, Ruta. You don’t have to convince her. No means no. What a fine lady of the manor…”

Then Cornspike spoke to him over her daughter’s head.

“You can take her, but on one condition.”

“Well?” said Ukleja, intrigued. He liked bargaining.

“From October to the end of April she is yours. From May to September she is mine.”

The amazed Ukleja looked at her as if he didn’t understand. Then he started counting the months on his fingers, and found that this division was not even, and that he profited by it. He had more months than Cornspike. He smiled slyly.

“All right, so be it.”

Ruta took her mother’s hand and laid it on her own cheek.

“Thank you, Mama. I’ll be fine. I’ve got everything I could wish for there.”

Cornspike kissed her brow. She didn’t even glance at Ukleja as they left. Before it got going, the car emitted clouds of grey smoke, and for the first time in their lives the trees in Wydymacz got a taste of exhaust fumes.