Salve of Freedom

She woke up long before the sun. The sky was still dark, her room full of dark shadows. The only light came from the candle her sister was holding.

“Milka.” Her sister shook her gently. “We have lots of work to do.”

Milka yawned loudly. She was not woken enough to register her sister’s smirk.

“What time is it?”

“It is going to be four very soon. Come on. I let you sleep as long as possible, but I need your help.”

In answer, Milka yawned again and slowly started to get up.

Her sister, the head of their household, did not usually wake her up so early. Normally, Milka could get up two hours later, just in time for breakfast before leaving for work.

Not this week, though. This week was special for their community. The week of Masopust festivities was always hectic. However, her sister Lutana and her husband were busier than everybody else. During the time of Masopust, they were flooded with orders from many in their settlement. They even needed the help of Milka, whom Lutana had previously described as a catastrophe in the kitchen.

Milka followed her sister from her tiny room to the kitchen. Lutana’s husband Premysl was already taking the first batch of sweet little cakes out of the oven. Milka was so amazed by its lovely smell that she overlooked her little brother Pravek and her nephew Myslik until they jumped on her. Being eight and almost six, they did not need much sleep when it was compensated with sugar.

“You are here already?” she asked them, trying to sound fully awake.

“We’ve already eaten breakfast!” announced Pravek.

“I ate four cakes!” declared Myslik happily.

“We are already helping!”

“Four cakes, Auntie Milka!”

“You were sleeping while we were helping!”

“Four. Whole. Cakes.”

Milka laughed at their joy. She was happy to see their little faces. Only the little children in her family could make her smile before sunrise.

She spent another three hours filling in the fluffy doughnuts they had made. Her sister rolled the pastry and carefully watched her every move so she would not destroy a single doughnut. Pravek and Myslik coated the freshly baked doughnuts her brother-in-law took out of the oven in sugar.

She was rewarded for all her hard work in the morning by stuffing her face with delicious doughnuts and little cakes. Then, it was time for her to leave for work. She was almost relieved to leave all the sugar and morning chaos in exchange for the peace that came with her work.

On her way, she nodded to several of her neighbours and even mumbled greetings to some. About two hundred and fifty people were living in their settlement, one hundred and sixty of them being adults. Milka lived her whole life in their settlement, so she knew everybody there. She knew their families, their history, and sometimes even their future.

Everybody in their settlement also knew she was a younger sister to Lutana and Hrdek, who was serving in the army protecting settlements from other countries. They knew she had a younger brother, Pravek. Their mother died while giving birth to him. That was not a secret to anybody, just as the fact that her father, a very kind and happy person, had not taken over the responsibility of raising his children from his dying wife very well. He had tried, but everybody knew that Lutana had had to move back to their house together with her husband and had taken over from him because he had been enjoying too much alcohol.

Their neighbours also knew that even though Hrdek was an accomplished officer in the army and Lutana had a successful bakery with her husband, the pressure was on Milka to succeed. She was the one who had followed the example of their mother and had decided to be a healer in their settlement. She was the promising student of their head healer, Kosma. She was the one who showed the most promise, and everybody believed she was the one who would one day become the head healer in their settlement.

They said it so often that even Milka sometimes believed that. It could be something that would make her content in her life. The hard work of the head healer was rewarding. After all, she liked her job, their settlement, and the people living in it.

She tightened the scarf around her head. The weather was not as cold as last month, but the air was still icy, and snow crunched under her feet. February was usually a bit warmer, but they were meant to celebrate Masopust festivities in woollen scarfs and hats this year. She was sure the dancing would warm people but still noted that she should prepare more cough mixture.

There were five healers in their settlement. For such a small settlement, it was a lot. However, their village was known for its healing skills. Usually, settlements had unique skills or goods. It became beneficial when they had to barter with other settlements.

Her people did not settle on rich soil, nor could they make unique craftsmanship. Her people bartered with something much more precious. They could offer a skilful healer who knew how to save a human life. That meant that even though five healers lived in their settlement, there were hardly ever two fully appointed healers simultaneously.

The head healer’s name was Kosma. She was a strict, tall lady in her fifties with more power than she ever wanted. She was the one who decided which healer would be sent where, and she was also the one who could refuse to help other settlements. As a head healer, she always stayed in her settlement and cared for ten apprentices from thirteen to twenty-one.

Milka was the oldest one. She had passed the healer’s test several months ago, but the tradition said she couldn’t be appointed as a healer until her twenty-first birthday, which was still four months away. For the past year, she did most of the healing in their settlement while Kosma paid attention to her other students and the administrative part of her job.

Milka could heal something as easy as a cough or stomach pain, but she could also fix a broken leg, birth a baby, and bring a high fever down. Once, she amputated a leg. Twice, the people under her care died – one because the infection overtook his body, and the other one did not survive an ugly fall from the cherry tree.

On her way to the healer’s building, she met her friend Drahush. She was wrapped in so many woollen scarfs Milka almost did not recognise her.

“Girl!” Drahush shouted when she noticed her. “Where is your hat? What about your scarf? You will freeze to death!”

Milka smiled as a greeting. Her friend was shaking from the cold weather around them.

“It is not so bad,” she replied. “It is the Masopust season. It is almost spring again.”

“Spring,” Drahush repeated mockingly and kicked snow around her. “You could have me fooled.

“I said almost.”

“You and your always warm body should not even talk to me. It is too early for me to be jealous.”

“Too early to be jealous, too late for your class,” replied Milka with a laugh. Drahush rolled her eyes at her but hurried to the building. She did not want to annoy healer Kosma. With a little laugh, Milka followed her quick tempo.

When they arrived, healer Kosma was already talking to the rest of her students. She glanced at them briefly when they entered the small classroom but did not comment on their late arrival. Drahush waved at Milka and quickly sat with the rest of the future healers.

Milka headed to the back room, which they used as a small laboratory. A week ago, she started preparing a new one. Some of them took a lot of time to prepare. The recipe came from her head, so she was a little nervous about the results. Healer Kosma allowed her to experiment with her herbs, but she was very critical if it turned out that Milka wasted time and ingredients that could have been spent better on the herbal concoction.

Sometimes, Milka thought that healer Kosma was critical because she could be. It was one of the thoughts she had never said aloud.

She checked on the concoctions and cleaned the dandelion roots she wanted to add to one slowly boiling pot of concoction. Healer Kosma joined her thirty minutes later.

“Healer,” Milka greeted her.

The healer nodded at her. “I want to send the apprentices to the forest later to pick up plants. Is there anything you need?”

Milka indeed needed some oak bark. It would be nice if she did not have to leave the warm laboratory. However, she did not trust the other students to bring her the bark undamaged. She had learned not to trust them from her past experiences. Like her friend Drahush, the older students knew how to pick herbs and plants. The younger ones were the problem. They were often too eager to return home, so they rushed with their work. They had not yet learned one of the most essential qualities of a good healer – patience.

“Could I join them?” she asked Kosma instead.

Kosma gave her an understanding smile. She often criticised her apprentices for the same reason.

“I can take care of your afternoon duties if you will join them and lead them,” Kosma offered.

Milka nodded. She did not mind the younger students. They had potential, and she loved seeing them grow in love with their chosen profession.

There were moments when Milka felt like she had to dig deeply to see the potential in the young students. She was double-checking on spruce needles one of the students brought her when she saw Mira, the apprentice accepted just a couple of months before, sniffing the roots he had dug up from the frozen ground.

“Mira!” she shouted when he moved his hand, holding the roots dangerously close to his face. In a few quick steps, she was standing next to him. She slapped his hand, so he dropped the plant in shock.

“That is ladies’ seal. The raw root is poisonous,” she explained slowly.

“Poisonous!” Mira whitened. “Why would healer Kosma want us to pick it?”

“Don’t worry. It is poisonous only if you eat it or lick it raw. Your face was close, but you should be okay,” Milka smiled at him with reassurance. “Now,” she turned to students standing close to her. “Why are we storing the ladies’ seal? What is it good for?”

Svetla, a fifteen-year-old girl with blonde hair similar to rays of sunshine, raised her arm. Milka smiled at her, and she invited her to answer with a gesture.

“It helps with digestion.”

“Very good! It helps digestion and improves appetite. Ground and boiled, it also helps as a wet pack for a bad case of bruising. However, it is crucial to boil it for several hours. Otherwise, it stays poisonous. Is it clear?”

“Clear,” mumbled several of the youngsters.

“Very well then. Back to your lists, please. Svetla, can you help Mira?” she ordered. “I am going for the oak bark. If you are unsure about the plant you should pick, please let me or one of the older students know. Do not eat, lick, or sniff anything you don’t know. Is it clear to everybody?”

All of them nodded, so she let them do their job. She picked her skirts and turned in the direction of the oak trees. They were not far from them—just around three hundred metres.

Drahush joined her only after a couple of steps.

“You are born teacher,” she declared. “Girl, I see you, but I hear healer Kosma. It is so scary.”

“No, you don’t. I am not like her.”

“You are at least a little bit. You are a nicer version of her. You don’t look like you have lost faith in humanity when somebody makes a mistake. Yet. But you also use every opportunity to educate us. So, give it twenty years, and you will be just like her.”

Milka stopped and looked at her shivering friend. “Well, thank you, Drahush. You always know what to say when you want me excited about my future.”

Drahush smirked at her. “I will be by your side. I will say it to your face if you are too condescending.”

Milka could not help but laugh. She could see that. They were much older and more experienced, but they would still be the same in their hearts – one too serious for her good and the second never severe enough.

Milka unwrapped her scarf from her neck and handed it to Drahush. She was getting bluer every minute.

Drahush took it from her and wrapped herself in it.

“Now, you will be the one who will freeze to death,” she protested lightly.

“I have three shirts under my coat.”

“You are so annoyingly responsible. You even take care of your health. How can we be friends?”

“We are the same age, and we are in the same social groups.”

“Also, we like each other, right?” asked Drahush mockingly. “At least I hope you can like someone less responsible than you.”

Milka wanted to reply to her banter, but she stopped. Something was lying under the oak trees.

“I mean, I know you are always prepared for everything…”

Not something. Someone, Milka realised.

“Prepared for every opportunity to educate us, prepared for every kind of weather, prepared for stupid students, prepared for…”

But Drahush was wrong. Milka was not prepared to find the body in the forest, and she was also unprepared for all the changes his arrival would bring.