THE REFUGEE

Petra find out what people were talking about her in the village. She thought about it,

“The old people are right – this is the fairest way to redeem my sin“.

Even in his sleep Petra couldn’t find rest. One evening, she asked her brothers,

“Should I get married to a widower?”

“You are not a young girl, Petra. If you take Stayko, we do not want you to come back one day.”

On the Sunday before Ilinden Petra went to live with Staiko. The young bride started getting the home in order. Stayko’s soul found ease at last because it had been tightened with a hoop before. He was young. We live once. He took the bagpipe again, started playing, cheered the village.

The year happened to be with good harvest. The spring and summer were rainy.

Endless rains with small interruptions continued until mid-July. The villagers from Gorovo were barely able to sow and dig the fields. Rye grew higher than human height. The meadows also thrived. They made good hay. The fields were woken by anvils and male voices. Stoiko was mowing large windrows, and Petra afer him spread the hay to dry and collected it on haystacks.

In a month or two and Petra faded. When she looked at the children, she could see Kera’s eyes. She did not stay at home for long; she tried to be outside most of the time. Stayko was telling his grief with his bagpipe. It was playing and telling the words of the song, “As you wear beautiful clothes, in the same way look after my orphans.” Petra, through her tears, replied,

“Do not play this song, Stayko, you break my heart!”

It had not been a year since they started living together, and Petra’s life with Stayko became hard. She could not find a place for her in the house where Kera had lived and done the housework. Her days were passing easier in work and talks with neighbours, but when the evening came, the nights grew worse.

One evening Staiko, drunk and angry, came back from the pub. He said bad words to Petra.

“You purposely poisoned Kera, to marry me, but not to look after my children.”

She jumped up, cried and went out. She stayed in the yard until Stayko asked her to go back home. The night was frosty, but bigger cold had already stiffened their hearts.

In the morning, Stayko went to the water-mill to grind rye because the winter was coming. Petra sent him to the gate, and after he had passed, she went to her brothers. She asked them,

“I am tired of life! Take me back to you again.”

“We do not want people to talk about you in the village,” they replied. “Your place is with Stayko. You will have to put up with him, you have chosen him yourself.”

She went back home, neither she wanted to eat, nor to drink water. Conscience was torturing her, “Life is no longer for me!” Her eyeswe