There once was a small village on the borders of a glorious golden
empire. The people of this village were simple farmers and laborers,
who lived in small homes outside of the village center. Although the
wilds around their town were filled with dangers, the people of town
never seemed to fear for their safety, and the farms prospered year
after year. The children were taught simply to stay out of the wilds,
to be home before dark, and to treat each other with kindness and
decency.
In the fall of each year, there would be a grand harvest
festival in the town square. The cobblestone streets would be lined
with chains of autumn leaves, and the smell of nutmeg and cooked
squash filled the surrounding area. Within the square there was a
small stone stage, furnished with a glorious wooden throne, made from
the branches and foliage of the forest. The backing wound and twisted
up into beautiful points, almost as if the throne had been grown
instead of crafted. Throughout the year, this stage would be left
untouched, but on the day of the festival it was adorned with the
bright crimsons and ochres of fall.
Leaning against the throne was a small gnarled cane. The branch
from which it had been shaped seemed to be of white birch, and the
hand grip at the top seemed formed for a very specific hand. Along
the length of the cane were many small notches carved to form tally
marks. Young Sveta had spent a whole day counting them. 84. She had
stared from the market stall where her mother sold their grain, and
had counted each one. She would not go onto the stage, as that would
be against the law, but she could count from a distance. Some of them
weathered and ancient looking. Some of them fresh.
When the day of the festival came, the entire village poured
into the town square. Stalls sold sweet and savory hand pies, games
were played by the children, and the masonry shook with boisterous
music and rowdy dancing. A year of hard work was being rewarded. But
the parents of young children seemed to have grief written on their
strained smiles. Sveta noticed that her mother, who was usually full
of joy and rarely stern, was particularly sour. She wanted to ask her
what was troubling her, but she knew that her mother would not say.
So she kept silent.
The mayor stepped onto the stone stage, his harvest festival
finest glimmering in the evening light. He bellowed out to the crowd.
“People of the village! It is time for our most honored
tradition! The crowning of our Harvest Royalty!”
The crowd cheered, and a small area was cleared away in the
front of the stage. Children of all ages ran to the area and formed a
line. Sveta began to go, but her mother clasped a hand on her
shoulder.
“But mother!” Sveta said. “I want to be the Harvest Princess!
I was too young to go last year!”
Her mother’s face was dour.
“Do not speak of such things Sveta! You will stay here. Mind
me, I know what’s best.”
Sveta rarely argued with her mother, so she quietly listened.
The mayor stepped forward to make another announcement.
“Very good! And now, it is my honor to bring forth our esteemed
Queen of the Harvest, Lady Koldunya!”
The crowd cheered as a female form stepped forward from behind a
small screen. She was elegant and tall, wearing a long red and orange
robe which glimmered in the light. Her hair was covered by a hood,
her face covered by the bone white visage of a deer’s skull. Her
antlers were long and tangled through with garlands of autumn leaves.
She nodded briefly at the crowd, and sat down in the throne, taking
the cane from it’s resting place and resting its end on the floor.
The mayor nervously left the stage, still smiling to the crowd.
He passed from child to child, raising his hand above the head of
each one. Lady Koldunya would tap her cane once, and the child would
be shooed back into the crowd to the arms of their parents. Lady
Koldunya would tap her cane twice, and the child would step forward
to the cheers of the crowd. After many rounds of this, only two
children remained. Piotr, the handsome town bully, and Galina, a
portly and kind daughter of the town smith. The town was oddly hushed
as the mayor raised his hand over the heads of the children. First
Galina.
No taps of the cane.
Then Piotr.
Two taps.
The town cheered loudly as Galina ran back to her parents,
sobbing. Sveta searched the crowd for Piotr’s parents, but could not
see them.
Piotr took the stage, and was given a cloak of red and orange.
Lady Koldunya stood next to him, towering over him. She handed him
the cane. She produced a smaller mask from her robes, white and
eyeless and round, and placed it on Piotr’s head. The two walked off
the stage and through the parting crowd as Piotr raised the cane in
the air, cheering; “I am the Harvest Prince! I am the Harvest
Prince!” They walked to the edge of the square, and towards the wilds
on the edge of town, and then so far away they could not be seen
anymore.
The next week, Sveta came back to the market with her mother. Piotr
was nowhere to be seen, nor his family. The stage had been cleaned,
and the villagers were taking down the decorations from the rest of
the square. Sveta’s mother was smiling, and told her how much she
loved her. Sveta saw the cane once again resting against the throne
of wood. She once again counted the notches, and saw a new, fresh
notch. 85. Sveta’s mother placed a hand on her shoulder and said “Not
all prizes are worth winning.”