92. Miracles are truly capricious.
You're lying.
The moment Erna heard her grandmother's suggestion that they go to the village festival together, she realized the truth. Bjorn was never a man who would wonder about such things.
Still, she pretended not to notice and boarded the carriage with him, hoping for a glimpse. Perhaps today might be different, she thought. This was a different world from Schwerin, and in this world, Bjorn was a more affectionate husband than usual. But it didn't take long for her to realize how foolish that presumption was.
“I’ll be here in about an hour.”
Bjorn spoke calmly, pointing to the statue standing at the entrance to the village. Erna and Lisa's brows furrowed simultaneously as they saw it.
“Weren’t we together?”
“I have something to take care of.”
“Then it’s okay if we go together.”
She tried to muster up her courage, but all she got in return from him was a light laugh.
“You're playing with your maid, Erna.”
Bjorn checked his watch and turned around.
“See you later.”
He left a greeting that felt all the more indifferent because it was affectionate, and left for the telegraph office with his attendant.
Erna stood there, dumbfounded, watching Bjorn's back. Just in case. She tried to act foolishly again, but he didn't turn around even once.
The miracle of Buford is over.
Erna accepted the truth with a quiet sigh. Knowing this, she began to hate herself for standing there blankly, staring in the direction where Bjorn had disappeared. Just then, Lisa, with a determined expression, suddenly blocked her path.
“Let’s have fun, Your Highness.”
Lisa looked straight into Erna's eyes, her voice dead, and spoke forcefully.
“See the festival, eat lots of delicious food, and have fun!”
Forget about that sinful Prince.
Lisa suppressed the words she couldn't bring herself to say out loud, keeping them in her eyes.
Fortunately, Erna nodded and smiled. Brightly, as if the shade of the parasol had faded. As always.
The area in front of the bronze equestrian statue was empty. Only then did Bjorn realize that the appointed time had not yet arrived.
20 minutes.
Checking the remaining time, Bjorn glanced toward the bustling square. Still, it was the busiest part of this rural town, and a considerable crowd had gathered. The laughter of children riding the carousel and the booming cries of street vendors seeking customers wafted through the floral-scented breeze.
After thinking for a moment, Bjorn turned towards it.
“I’ll go alone.”
Bjorn calmly ordered the attendant who followed him like a shadow.
“But, Prince....”
“What could possibly happen among people who don’t even recognize me?”
Bjorn's demeanor was so cool that he couldn't add any more. He walked the streets unguarded, and no one gathered, so it seemed the people here clearly didn't recognize the Prince. It was something unimaginable in the capital and Schwerin, where crowds swarmed everywhere.
Bjorn, who had been given the task, walked towards the square with wider strides.
He wasn't particularly interested in the country village festival, but going back like this felt uneasy. For some reason, he felt anxious and thirsty. Whenever hw thought about Erna, excited to go out with Baroness Baden, who had been entrusting her granddaughter, he felt the same way.
Just as the thought crossed his mind that perhaps that was the reason he'd rushed to finish his work, Bjorn entered the square where the festival was in full swing. A glance caught his eye, but that was all. That innocent curiosity soon dissipated into the din.
With a lighter gait, Bjorn entered the alley lined with stalls. The scent of honey and cinnamon, rising from the cast-iron pots roasting almonds, wafted through the air, along with the steam. The sizzling sound of sausages grilling, the hearty laughter of men holding beer mugs, and the wafting soap bubbles passed by, and a small stage lined with onlookers appeared. A lively polka, played on violin and accordion, resonated through the air.
Bjorn's gaze, slowly surveying the landscape, stopped on a small woman standing at the very end of the group. Erna. He recognized her immediately. It was his wife.
Bjorn quietly approached and stood behind Erna. The maid beside him turned her head in surprise, but Erna was completely absorbed in the performance.
Bjorn gave a small nod to Lisa, who was trying to greet him. The maid, who seemed to be quite perceptive, flinched and closed her lips.
Bjorn nodded and conveyed the order. The maid, who had been expected to be obedient, now feigned ignorance and began to act as if nothing had happened.
Even as the fierce gazes of those seeking to pursue and those resisting exchanged, Erna remained absorbed in watching the people who had begun to dance to the music. With each nod to the rhythm of the percussion instruments, the flowers and ribbons adorning her wide-brimmed hats fluttered.
The silent fight eventually ended in the maid's defeat.
Lisa, with a sullen expression, handed Erna the parasol she was holding and quickly disappeared into the crowd. Bjorn approached the spot and looked down at his wife. Almost immediately, Erna raised her head.
“You know, Lisa...”
Erna's face, once filled with excitement, suddenly blanked. She looked around as if searching for the missing maid, then met him again with a look of disbelief.
A single soap bubble blown by the children drifted toward the increasingly heated dance floor. The moment it burst, Erna laughed. Clearly, like a May festival.
Miracles are truly capricious.
It seemed so close it would just fade away, and just as she was about to give up, it would come back and make her dream sweet dreams. Just like this man, Bjorn.
Erna chewed sweet almonds and studied Bjorn, who sat across from her. He was gazing out at the square, his wine glass held loosely in his hand. It was too early for a drink, but since all the men gathered at the outdoor café were doing the same, she decided not to make a fuss.
Even under the shade of the tent, Erna examined the radiant light blond hair, narrowed eyes, and crimson lips with a faint smile. Feeling slightly embarrassed, she lowered her gaze. The honey almonds Bjorn had bought her were already empty. Feeling a pang of regret, Erna rolled up the end of the paper bag and sealed it.
She watched the May Festival with Bjorn, who had miraculously arrived. They walked together, browsed the stalls, chatted, and bought snacks. These were ordinary things enjoyed by everyone here, but for Erna, they were truly special moments.
Although she always pretended not to care, she was actually quite curious about this festival. Sometimes, she felt the urge to sneak a peek, but Erna never did. She knew why her grandparents disliked May Day in Burford.
There was a naive country girl. She had been secretly visiting the village festival, avoiding her parents' attention. There, she met a young man. He was the heir to a squire's family, visiting relatives in a nearby town.
He fell in love with the country girl at first sight and courted her passionately. Her parents were initially skeptical of the young man, but ultimately consented to the marriage. His child was already growing in their daughter's womb.
What if my mother hadn't come to this festival that spring?
Just as her heart was starting to ache from the thought that came to her mind without her knowing, Bjorn lightly raised his hand and called the waiter.
“What’s going on?”
The middle-aged waiter who came to refill his empty glass burst into laughter at the question Bjorn asked as he surveyed the increasingly crowded square.
"Ah. I guess you don't know since you're from out of town. The competition to select the 'Man of Burford' will be held soon. It's the highlight of the Burford Spring Festival."
“A man from Buford?”
When Bjorn asked back, the waiter added a rather serious explanation.
"It's a race where you carry your wife on your back, and there's a huge prize at stake. You also get the honor of being named the best man in Burford."
He filled Bjorn's empty glass with a look of pride on his face.
“The best man...”
Bjorn's eyes gradually narrowed as he repeated those words.
“Are you saying that anyone can participate as long as they have a wife?”
Bjorn's gaze deepened as he looked back and forth between the square and Erna.
“Yes. Anyone can participate as long as they have a wife to carry them.”
The waiter's gaze, as he gave a cheerful answer, also turned towards Erna.
Erna, who was sitting quietly drinking tea, suddenly frowned.
"No, I do not want."
While Erna was throwing down her teacup and making a fuss, Bjorn stood up from his seat.
“Keep your dignity.”
Despite her firm, cutting words, Bjorn approached her with a nonchalant smile. Erna knew that smile well. It was the beautiful, devilish smile that one wears when they have no intention of even listening to others.
“No! I told you clearly that I don’t want to do it!”
Bjorn's smile grew sweeter as he held his wife's hand, who was stubbornly refusing.
“Let's go, my lady.”
“Oh my! No matter what, this isn’t right!”
The man next to him, who had been glancing at Bjorn and Erna, raised his voice with a serious expression.
"That's what I'm saying. That woman looks half my age, and that young man is so tall and strong. Isn't this a match where the winner is already decided? It's unfair. It's absolutely unfair."
The man standing on the opposite line also added a word.
“Well, that’s life.”
Bjorn, who had leisurely glanced at them, responded with a calm demeanor. It was a remark that only fueled the discontent of the other participants at the starting line.
His wife was a feather when she was young. Oh, right. From a young age, she should have lived her life so beautifully. As protests began to pour in from all sides, the game's announcer approached with a troubled expression.
“I guess things will be difficult if we continue like this.”
His eyes became stern as he carefully examined the young couple from out of town.
“Let the young man start from there.”
He pointed to a spot a good ten paces behind the starting line. Bjorn furrowed his brow, expressing his displeasure, but his competitors, as if they had been waiting, cheered. Bjorn nodded helplessly and led Erna to the starting line assigned to him.
“Yes. Now, let’s get ready!”
The men who had been acting all over the place now looked satisfied.
As the participants, with grave eyes, began to lift their wives one by one, the bustling square began to quiet down. Erna, who had been observing the men carrying their wives on their shoulders like burdens, looked at Bjorn with a look of shock on her face.
“Just go, Bjorn. Yes?”
“Now?”
Bjorn chuckled, as if it were nonsense, and took off his jacket. There was no longer any light playfulness in his movements as he unbuttoned the cuffs, placed them in his vest pockets, and rolled up his sleeves.
"Why are you doing this? You must uphold the dignity of the royal family!"
“So what? No one recognizes me anyway.”
“Bjorn!”
"They're giving me a huge prize. And the honor of being the best man."
Bjorn playfully chuckled and removed Erna's hat. He also snatched the lace parasol she was clutching tightly and placed it next to his jacket and her hat.
“I can’t do it!”
“I’ll do it. Madam, just stay still.”
“Bjorn, are you really going to carry me like that?”
Erna's astonishing question was answered by Bjorn's actions. In the blink of an eye, Erna, draped over her husband's shoulder like a sack of flour, let out a scream that mingled with the laughter of the onlookers.
“Erna, Dniester doesn’t play games; he loses, right?”
Bjorn stood at the disadvantaged starting line, carrying his wife as she struggled pointlessly. His eyes, now fixed on the finish line, were filled with a serious desire to win.
“So, please cooperate, madam.”
As soon as he finished speaking, a gunshot rang out, signaling departure.
You're lying.
The moment Erna heard her grandmother's suggestion that they go to the village festival together, she realized the truth. Bjorn was never a man who would wonder about such things.
Still, she pretended not to notice and boarded the carriage with him, hoping for a glimpse. Perhaps today might be different, she thought. This was a different world from Schwerin, and in this world, Bjorn was a more affectionate husband than usual. But it didn't take long for her to realize how foolish that presumption was.
“I’ll be here in about an hour.”
Bjorn spoke calmly, pointing to the statue standing at the entrance to the village. Erna and Lisa's brows furrowed simultaneously as they saw it.
“Weren’t we together?”
“I have something to take care of.”
“Then it’s okay if we go together.”
She tried to muster up her courage, but all she got in return from him was a light laugh.
“You're playing with your maid, Erna.”
Bjorn checked his watch and turned around.
“See you later.”
He left a greeting that felt all the more indifferent because it was affectionate, and left for the telegraph office with his attendant.
Erna stood there, dumbfounded, watching Bjorn's back. Just in case. She tried to act foolishly again, but he didn't turn around even once.
The miracle of Buford is over.
Erna accepted the truth with a quiet sigh. Knowing this, she began to hate herself for standing there blankly, staring in the direction where Bjorn had disappeared. Just then, Lisa, with a determined expression, suddenly blocked her path.
“Let’s have fun, Your Highness.”
Lisa looked straight into Erna's eyes, her voice dead, and spoke forcefully.
“See the festival, eat lots of delicious food, and have fun!”
Forget about that sinful Prince.
Lisa suppressed the words she couldn't bring herself to say out loud, keeping them in her eyes.
Fortunately, Erna nodded and smiled. Brightly, as if the shade of the parasol had faded. As always.
***
The area in front of the bronze equestrian statue was empty. Only then did Bjorn realize that the appointed time had not yet arrived.
20 minutes.
Checking the remaining time, Bjorn glanced toward the bustling square. Still, it was the busiest part of this rural town, and a considerable crowd had gathered. The laughter of children riding the carousel and the booming cries of street vendors seeking customers wafted through the floral-scented breeze.
After thinking for a moment, Bjorn turned towards it.
“I’ll go alone.”
Bjorn calmly ordered the attendant who followed him like a shadow.
“But, Prince....”
“What could possibly happen among people who don’t even recognize me?”
Bjorn's demeanor was so cool that he couldn't add any more. He walked the streets unguarded, and no one gathered, so it seemed the people here clearly didn't recognize the Prince. It was something unimaginable in the capital and Schwerin, where crowds swarmed everywhere.
Bjorn, who had been given the task, walked towards the square with wider strides.
He wasn't particularly interested in the country village festival, but going back like this felt uneasy. For some reason, he felt anxious and thirsty. Whenever hw thought about Erna, excited to go out with Baroness Baden, who had been entrusting her granddaughter, he felt the same way.
Just as the thought crossed his mind that perhaps that was the reason he'd rushed to finish his work, Bjorn entered the square where the festival was in full swing. A glance caught his eye, but that was all. That innocent curiosity soon dissipated into the din.
With a lighter gait, Bjorn entered the alley lined with stalls. The scent of honey and cinnamon, rising from the cast-iron pots roasting almonds, wafted through the air, along with the steam. The sizzling sound of sausages grilling, the hearty laughter of men holding beer mugs, and the wafting soap bubbles passed by, and a small stage lined with onlookers appeared. A lively polka, played on violin and accordion, resonated through the air.
Bjorn's gaze, slowly surveying the landscape, stopped on a small woman standing at the very end of the group. Erna. He recognized her immediately. It was his wife.
Bjorn quietly approached and stood behind Erna. The maid beside him turned her head in surprise, but Erna was completely absorbed in the performance.
Bjorn gave a small nod to Lisa, who was trying to greet him. The maid, who seemed to be quite perceptive, flinched and closed her lips.
Why don't you just go?
Even as the fierce gazes of those seeking to pursue and those resisting exchanged, Erna remained absorbed in watching the people who had begun to dance to the music. With each nod to the rhythm of the percussion instruments, the flowers and ribbons adorning her wide-brimmed hats fluttered.
The silent fight eventually ended in the maid's defeat.
Lisa, with a sullen expression, handed Erna the parasol she was holding and quickly disappeared into the crowd. Bjorn approached the spot and looked down at his wife. Almost immediately, Erna raised her head.
“You know, Lisa...”
Erna's face, once filled with excitement, suddenly blanked. She looked around as if searching for the missing maid, then met him again with a look of disbelief.
A single soap bubble blown by the children drifted toward the increasingly heated dance floor. The moment it burst, Erna laughed. Clearly, like a May festival.
***
Miracles are truly capricious.
It seemed so close it would just fade away, and just as she was about to give up, it would come back and make her dream sweet dreams. Just like this man, Bjorn.
Erna chewed sweet almonds and studied Bjorn, who sat across from her. He was gazing out at the square, his wine glass held loosely in his hand. It was too early for a drink, but since all the men gathered at the outdoor café were doing the same, she decided not to make a fuss.
Even under the shade of the tent, Erna examined the radiant light blond hair, narrowed eyes, and crimson lips with a faint smile. Feeling slightly embarrassed, she lowered her gaze. The honey almonds Bjorn had bought her were already empty. Feeling a pang of regret, Erna rolled up the end of the paper bag and sealed it.
She watched the May Festival with Bjorn, who had miraculously arrived. They walked together, browsed the stalls, chatted, and bought snacks. These were ordinary things enjoyed by everyone here, but for Erna, they were truly special moments.
Although she always pretended not to care, she was actually quite curious about this festival. Sometimes, she felt the urge to sneak a peek, but Erna never did. She knew why her grandparents disliked May Day in Burford.
There was a naive country girl. She had been secretly visiting the village festival, avoiding her parents' attention. There, she met a young man. He was the heir to a squire's family, visiting relatives in a nearby town.
He fell in love with the country girl at first sight and courted her passionately. Her parents were initially skeptical of the young man, but ultimately consented to the marriage. His child was already growing in their daughter's womb.
What if my mother hadn't come to this festival that spring?
Just as her heart was starting to ache from the thought that came to her mind without her knowing, Bjorn lightly raised his hand and called the waiter.
“What’s going on?”
The middle-aged waiter who came to refill his empty glass burst into laughter at the question Bjorn asked as he surveyed the increasingly crowded square.
"Ah. I guess you don't know since you're from out of town. The competition to select the 'Man of Burford' will be held soon. It's the highlight of the Burford Spring Festival."
“A man from Buford?”
When Bjorn asked back, the waiter added a rather serious explanation.
"It's a race where you carry your wife on your back, and there's a huge prize at stake. You also get the honor of being named the best man in Burford."
He filled Bjorn's empty glass with a look of pride on his face.
“The best man...”
Bjorn's eyes gradually narrowed as he repeated those words.
“Are you saying that anyone can participate as long as they have a wife?”
Bjorn's gaze deepened as he looked back and forth between the square and Erna.
“Yes. Anyone can participate as long as they have a wife to carry them.”
The waiter's gaze, as he gave a cheerful answer, also turned towards Erna.
Erna, who was sitting quietly drinking tea, suddenly frowned.
"No, I do not want."
While Erna was throwing down her teacup and making a fuss, Bjorn stood up from his seat.
“Keep your dignity.”
Despite her firm, cutting words, Bjorn approached her with a nonchalant smile. Erna knew that smile well. It was the beautiful, devilish smile that one wears when they have no intention of even listening to others.
“No! I told you clearly that I don’t want to do it!”
Bjorn's smile grew sweeter as he held his wife's hand, who was stubbornly refusing.
“Let's go, my lady.”
***
“Oh my! No matter what, this isn’t right!”
The man next to him, who had been glancing at Bjorn and Erna, raised his voice with a serious expression.
"That's what I'm saying. That woman looks half my age, and that young man is so tall and strong. Isn't this a match where the winner is already decided? It's unfair. It's absolutely unfair."
The man standing on the opposite line also added a word.
“Well, that’s life.”
Bjorn, who had leisurely glanced at them, responded with a calm demeanor. It was a remark that only fueled the discontent of the other participants at the starting line.
His wife was a feather when she was young. Oh, right. From a young age, she should have lived her life so beautifully. As protests began to pour in from all sides, the game's announcer approached with a troubled expression.
“I guess things will be difficult if we continue like this.”
His eyes became stern as he carefully examined the young couple from out of town.
“Let the young man start from there.”
He pointed to a spot a good ten paces behind the starting line. Bjorn furrowed his brow, expressing his displeasure, but his competitors, as if they had been waiting, cheered. Bjorn nodded helplessly and led Erna to the starting line assigned to him.
“Yes. Now, let’s get ready!”
The men who had been acting all over the place now looked satisfied.
As the participants, with grave eyes, began to lift their wives one by one, the bustling square began to quiet down. Erna, who had been observing the men carrying their wives on their shoulders like burdens, looked at Bjorn with a look of shock on her face.
“Just go, Bjorn. Yes?”
“Now?”
Bjorn chuckled, as if it were nonsense, and took off his jacket. There was no longer any light playfulness in his movements as he unbuttoned the cuffs, placed them in his vest pockets, and rolled up his sleeves.
"Why are you doing this? You must uphold the dignity of the royal family!"
“So what? No one recognizes me anyway.”
“Bjorn!”
"They're giving me a huge prize. And the honor of being the best man."
Bjorn playfully chuckled and removed Erna's hat. He also snatched the lace parasol she was clutching tightly and placed it next to his jacket and her hat.
“I can’t do it!”
“I’ll do it. Madam, just stay still.”
“Bjorn, are you really going to carry me like that?”
Erna's astonishing question was answered by Bjorn's actions. In the blink of an eye, Erna, draped over her husband's shoulder like a sack of flour, let out a scream that mingled with the laughter of the onlookers.
“Erna, Dniester doesn’t play games; he loses, right?”
Bjorn stood at the disadvantaged starting line, carrying his wife as she struggled pointlessly. His eyes, now fixed on the finish line, were filled with a serious desire to win.
“So, please cooperate, madam.”
As soon as he finished speaking, a gunshot rang out, signaling departure.
Comments
Post a Comment