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Chapter 3
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Tauragė County, Lithuania, 1847-1852
For as long as Tauras could remember, Eduard had always been there. The blonde boy with stick-straight hair and blue eyes. His nursery companion.
It was rumored that he was the orphan of some German transients from Tauragė, that Juozas Laurinaitis and his wife had taken pity on the poor couple and took their son in to raise as their own. And it was a rumor Tauras' father was all too happy to propagate. Though Tauras always found it curious whenever he was fetched from the nursery to be brought before his parents, Eduard would stay behind. Did no one ever want to see him? Though Tauras secretly envied Eduard. Time spent with the grown-ups was terribly boring. They always wanted him to sit still, be quiet and not interrupt. He longed for his time with mother and father to end so he could run back to the nursery and play with Eduard.
Tauras always took the lead in whatever games they played. He was older than Eduard by five months and therefore felt that placed him in the role of leader. Eduard, who tended to shyness, happily followed Tauras in whatever adventure he planned.
One rainy afternoon, shortly after Eduard's fifth birthday, the boys were looking at a picture book of medieval knights while Nanny dozed by the fireplace. While Tauras was exclaiming over the swords and halberds, Eduard pressed his nose closer to the book, eyes squinched up, trying to make out the objects of Tauras' excitement.
"But it's right there, Eduard," Tauras declared, impatiently jabbing a finger at the illustration. "Can't you see it?"
However before Eduard could answer, one of the servants entered, startling Nanny from her nap, and said the lord and lady were ready to receive their son.
Tauras heaved a sigh and picked up the book, determined to let his father know of Eduard's poor eyesight.
The servant led Tauras to the drawing room where he stood before his father and said with all the gravity a five-year old could muster: "Papa, Eduard needs glasses."
Juozas Laurinaitis, puffed out a small laugh, momentarily stunned. "Glasses?"
"Yes. Like the kind uncle Benas wears."
Juozas and his wife shared a look at the mention of his younger brother's name.
"He can't see the pictures," Tauras continued, holding out the book as if it was definitive proof.
"Ah. I see," Juozas said diplomatically. "Well then, we shall consider it."
Tauras beamed, gave a small bow, and sat at their feet to continue his perusal of the fascinating illustrations.
Just before Christmas, Eduard got his glasses. Being able to see properly effected a change in him. Though he still happily let the older boy take the lead in their playtime, Eduard's daring grew until it was on par with Tauras'. And that was not the only noticeable change. With his new glasses, Eduard bore a striking resemblance to uncle Benas — so much so that Tauras' grandmother remarked on it at Christmas dinner after gifts were exchanged. Eduard had accepted his present from the family and then was sent off with Nanny. Juozas and his wife again shared a look. At the other end of the table, uncle Benas just looked sad while his wife gave him a cold glare. Tauras rubbed his eyes. He supposed he would be sad too if aunt Agnė always looked at him like that. He wished Eduard was there, but Eduard always dined with the servants.
As they grew older, their games extended beyond the four walls governed by Nanny, spilling out into the rest of the estate. There were countless days spent roaming the gardens or racing through the low hedge mazes to see who could find their way out first. When the weather was poor, the boys passed their time playing hide-and-seek with Nanny in the estate's endless rooms. There were so many places to hide, so many places to explore.
Uncle Benas had taken to visiting more and more often. He usually wandered the halls or the gardens alone, as if a stranger in his own brother's house. Sometimes aunt Agnė accompanied him, and when she did, the boys were kept firmly in the nursery.
One day in late spring, Eduard and Tauras were playing outside, chasing each other through the hedge maze, when they ran into uncle Benas, sitting on a stone bench, staring at the bushes in a daze. The boys stopped abruptly when they saw him, Eduard tripping over his feet and landing sprawled on the gravel path, stirring uncle Benas from his reverie. He knelt down, helping Eduard to his feet. The boy's cheeks turned pink as he stammered out an apology.
But uncle Benas was smiling as he said: "That's quite all right. How are you?"
The way he said it reminded Tauras of the way his father greeted the villagers after Sunday mass, his concern for their well-being evident and genuine.
Eduard looked up timidly. "I'm fine."
The corners of uncle Benas' eyes crinkled as he gave a warm laugh. "Good. I'm glad to hear it."
He remained a few moments more, watching Eduard, the delight in his eyes eventually diminishing to something more solemn.
Across the grounds came Nanny's sharp voice, calling the boys to lunch.
Uncle Benas stood, holding out a hand to Eduard. "Take care."
Eduard grasped it and nodded. Then he turned and ran off back through the maze, Tauras chasing close behind.
Nearing the end of uncle Benas' stay, the weather worsened as afternoon thunderstorms rolled in. At the request of Tauras' father, the boys were confined to the walls of the nursery, spending most of their time reading or drawing out on paper the adventures they would have had, had the sunny days kept up. Finally, on the day before uncle Benas was to depart, Nanny released them to roam the halls of the estate, unable to stand their restless energy any longer. She promised them a game of hide-and-seek, and the master and his brother were both out attending to a matter in the village.
Tauras took off down the hallway the moment Nanny opened the door, pulling Eduard behind him. A few weeks ago, he had found a wonderful new hiding spot in the library that he wanted Eduard to see — one of the book cases moved like a door, revealing a set of narrow stairs the servants used to maneuver about, unseen by the rest of the family.
Tauras found the small, ringed handle set into the side of the case. With a few tugs, the case swung forward enough to allow the boys to slip into the dark stairwell. He closed the bookcase door behind them, leaving it open just a crack to allow light in. Tauras remained by the door, keeping one eye on the library should Nanny discover their hiding place. They could zip down the stairs and be in the servants hall in a matter of seconds.
Minutes ticked by.
This wing of the house was quiet, save the pattering of rain as it lashed the high windows. Tauras could feel Eduard growing restless, his feet shuffling back and forth in agitation at having to be still for so long.
He was just about to suggest they go and find somewhere else when Tauras made a shushing sound.
"There's someone coming."
Eduard perked up, the thrill of Nanny catching them set upon him. Their boring hiding place had suddenly become much more interesting.
"I want to see."
"No."
"Why not? You've been standing there this whole time — "
"Shhh!"
Eduard's mouth snapped shut. He folded his arms, leaning against the stairwell wall, pouting.
"It's not Nanny," Tauras said. "It sounds like...like uncle Benas. And Papa!"
Both boys' eyes widened in the dark. Suddenly their harmless game had become something more dangerous. Nanny had broken the rules, letting them out of the nursery. And now that Papa and uncle Benas had come home early, they were bound to be discovered.
"Let's go, Tauras," Eduard begged, pulling the other boy over to the stairs.
"No, wait!" Tauras hissed, shaking off Eduard's hand. The way the grown-ups were acting had caught his attention. He wanted to know what they were discussing.
Uncle Benas and Papa were both soaking wet from their ride back from the village. Tauras surmised they must have gone on horseback, eschewing the carriage. The morning had been delightful — not a cloud in the sky, until just before noontime, when the rain came.
Papa stood in the middle of the room, arms folded, glaring at his brother's back as Benas poured himself a drink from a nearby sideboard.
"This has got to stop, Benas."
Tauras' uncle straightened up, swallowing down the honey-colored liquor in one gulp.
"You've made your point plainly, brother. On countless occasions."
"Clearly not plain enough, for it has yet to sink in! You're just going to confuse the boy if you keep this up."
Benas fixed another drink, sweeping his soggy hair back from his face. It was straight, like Eduard's, though darker and shaggier.
"Oh! You are one to talk, you hypocrite!" Benas scoffed, rounding on Juozas. "Who's the one who has been raising him along side his own child? Who's the one who has been treating him nearly equal?"
Juozas dropped his head into his hand, rubbing his brow.
"When we took him in, we agreed — we agreed — that there would be no contact — "
"Forgive me, then, for having such a weak heart! Eduard is my son and I have a right to see him!"
From the concealed door there came an audible gasp. Both men stopped their arguing and turned their heads, looking at the bookcase.
In the stairwell, Eduard clapped his hand over his mouth. Tauras looked at him, agape, as the truth exploded around him. He pulled Eduard — his cousin — into a tight embrace as the blonde boy began to cry.
The door was wrenched open.
Juozas and Benas stood in the entry, staring down at the two boys. Juozas wrapped a hand around each of their arms, dragging them into the room. He went over to the bell pull and rang for a servant. Tauras stood, eyes fixed on the rug, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Eduard continued to softly cry beside him. Benas reached out a hand to place on his son's shoulder, but Eduard shrank away.
"Leave us, Benas," Juozas said, his voice deadly calm. Then, seeing his brother about to protest: "Leave! Now!"
Benas obeyed.
"You are not to repeat any of what you have heard today," Juozas fumed, once the door had shut. "Do you understand me?"
Both boys nodded at once, not wishing to incur further displeasure.
"I should have separated you two right from the off. But perhaps now it's not too late."
The door to the library opened. It was Rūta, the head housekeeper.
"Take Eduard to the butler," Juozas said without preamble. "He is to become the new hall boy effective immediately."
Rūta nodded and, without a word, led the boy from the room, his tears now streaming harder as he and his newfound cousin were separated.
Tauras, meanwhile, shook with quiet rage. "Why did you do that? You didn't have to send him off."
"We are not having this discussion now — "
"Why did you do it!?"
Juozas sank onto a couch, his quick temper leaving him exhausted. "Eduard belongs to a different class. It is time for him to learn that, as well as you."
Tauras' brow knit. "What do you mean, different class?"
"His mother was one of your uncle's servants. A German girl. She was dismissed soon after Eduard was born. Your aunt Agnė wanted to send him to an orphanage, but Benas would not have it. Your mother and I stepped in, agreeing to...look after him until he was old enough to start helping the rest of the staff."
"But why does he have to become a servant, if he's uncle's son?"
"That's where he belongs. He was born out of wedlock to a servant girl. He will never rise above that. But if he applies himself, he may eventually become a valet — or even head butler — to a decent household."
"But that's not fair," Tauras persisted. "If he's uncle's son, why can't he still live with us as part of the family?"
"That's enough!" Juozas said, his ire rising again. "It's enough of a disgrace Benas has a bastard son, but to welcome him into the family would bring even more shame upon our heads! This scandal is not yet wholly forgotten in this county. Accepting Eduard as my nephew would only spread it anew. And think of your poor aunt and all the gossip she's had to endure — not to mention the heartache! She has yet to bear your uncle a child and seeing Eduard is a constant reminder of her failures."
Tauras hung his head, trying to understand. It still did not seem fair to him — or right that Eduard should be treated this way. It wasn't his fault. He wanted to say as much to his father, but he knew Juozas' mind was already made up.
"Now, do I have your word," Juozas began, standing, "that you will not repeat any of this? From now on, Eduard is a servant in this house and you will treat him as such."
Tauras remained silent.
"Your word?"
"Yes, father."
.
o
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The weeks wore on in endless monotony for Tauras without the company of Eduard. In addition to losing his cousin — and best friend — he had been moved out of the nursery. His father thought it prudent as Tauras approached adolescence. The time had come to put away childish games and ideals and to start learning his place in the world. Besides, he was soon to become a big brother and a new baby would require all of Nanny's time and attention.
So Tauras said goodbye to the room where he had spent so many fond days and settled permanently into his bedroom, the large room feeling empty and lifeless without Eduard and Nanny there with him.
He flung himself on his bed, hating and blaming himself for what had happened to Eduard, for what was happening to him. If he had not shown Eduard the secret stairwell, if they had just stayed inside the nursery like father wanted, he would have his companion back and never would have known he and Eduard were related. But, a small part of him reasoned, his affection for Eduard only grew the moment he found out they were cousins. He would do anything to protect him, to keep him safe.
He wondered, though, if Eduard felt the same.
Did his cousin blame him for what happened?
He had to know.
Tauras got up and hurried downstairs. The midday meal had just ended and Eduard was most likely in the kitchen. A few servants stopped to address him, but he dashed past without a word. He needed to see Eduard.
But at the kitchen door, he hesitated. Peering around the doorframe, he saw Eduard clearing away the dishes from the servants' meal. The cook was in the pantry, going over inventory.
Eduard looked up, startled to see his cousin staring back at him. The plates he was holding rattled. He set them down, wiping his hands on his apron, and went over to Tauras.
"What are you doing here?"
"I...I wanted to see you," Tauras said.
Eduard pushed his glasses up his nose. His fingers were already smudged with what looked to be ash from cleaning the fireplace earlier that day.
It should have been dirt, Tauras thought. Dirt from the grounds from tumbling in the grass. Eduard should be upstairs, playing with him, instead of down here, working.
"I-I thought...you might be mad at me."
"What for?"
Tauras shrugged and looked down, prodding the flagstone floor with his shoe. "It was my idea, to hide there. If I hadn't — if we hadn't — th-then..." He could not bring himself to say it. But Eduard understood.
"I'm glad we did it," he said, a fierce look flashing in his blue eyes.
Tauras looked up. "You mean it?"
Eduard nodded.
"Then can we still be...be friends?"
"We're more than friends," Eduard grinned. "We're cousins."
.
o
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Tauras sat, cross-legged, on the bed in Eduard's downstairs room. The bed was little more than a blue quilt covering a thin mattress on a wrought iron frame. Tauras discovered if he moved around too much, the whole thing let out a shrill creak, as if the very bolts were crying out against being jostled around so. He wondered how Eduard could sleep on something so noisy as he watched his cousin line up the family's shoes for polishing.
The room itself was narrow, with just enough space for the bed, a small dresser with a wash basin, and a spindly wooden chair. Candles, set in sconces on the wall, added their warm glow to the cool, grey light of early dawn filtering through the shear curtain covering the room's only window.
None of the other staff was awake yet, not even the cook — making it the perfect time to talk to Eduard. Tauras had taken to rising early every day just so he could spend time with him.
Eduard sat in the spindly chair, and picked up the first of a pair of Oxfords belonging to Tauras' father. He crossed one ankle over his opposite knee, balancing the shoe on one leg and the can of polish on the other and set to work.
"Come up to my room tonight," Tauras said.
Eduard kept his eyes down and his hands busy.
"I can't," he said at length.
"Why not? You know all the secret passages."
"Yeah. 'Cause I'm not supposed to be seen upstairs, remember?"
"So?"
"So I just can't, okay? I've got...things to do."
"That's never stopped you before."
Eduard ignored him, continuing with his duties.
"What if I ordered you," Tauras said snidely.
Eduard fixed his cousin with a hard look over the rims of his glasses. "Don't joke about that." Two years had passed and already he seemed so much older than his ten years.
Tauras looked down, shamefaced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." He watched his cousin a few more silent moments, then: "Can I help?"
Eduard picked his head up, this time cracking a smile. "What kind of a nobleman's son are you?"
They shared a laugh.
Tauras swung his legs down, inching closer to the edge of the bed. "I wish you would come tonight, Ed. I've got a new book I think you might like. We could read it together. It chronicles all the mythology and legends of our country — "
"Our country?"
Tauras rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't start — "
"Your country, you mean."
Tauras hunched forward, tucking his hands under his thighs. "Why do you say things like that?" he muttered.
"I say them 'cause they're true. Eduard's a German name. So is Bock. I'm only half Lithuanian. And that half doesn't want me, so..." Eduard finished his thought with a shrug, one meant to show his swagger, but Tauras was not convinced. "I'm surprised your father let you have something like that. Isn't he firmly against anything pagan?"
"He didn't know I bought it last time we went into town," Tauras said. "So, will you come?"
Eduard puffed out a laugh. "You really don't like being told 'no' do you?"
The ensuing silence, however, told him Tauras was no longer in a joking mood. Eduard sighed and set the shoe down, the look on his face now earnest.
"I really can't, Tauras. I'm sorry."
"Why?"
The question was sharp — a demand — one that made Eduard flinch. He knew, then, he could no longer avoid it.
Eduard pushed his glasses up his nose, listening for a moment for any sound, any indication they might be overheard, but the servants' quarters remained still in the early morning.
"All right" — he bent down, picking up another shoe — "I overheard two of the maids talking a few weeks ago. Apparently my father" — Eduard practically spat the word — "wants to send me to Germany. To some preparatory school."
Tauras' brow furrowed. "But that's good, isn't it? It means you no longer have to be a servant."
Eduard shrugged, keeping his eyes on his work. "His wife just wanted to send me off to live with my mother's family. It's a good compromise, I guess. Anyway, your father agreed. He...told me about it last week, and" — Eduard's voice caught in his throat — "and I leave tomorrow."
"What!" Tauras nearly propelled himself off the bed, the metal groaning sharply at the sudden movement. "And you're just telling me this now!?"
"I knew you wouldn't take it well — "
"Is that why you waited so long?"
Eduard's shoulders tensed, his head whipping up. "No, Tauras. I didn't tell you because...because we're not even supposed to be talking like this! You stay up there and I stay down here and that's just how it is — "
"But it doesn't have to be that way, Ed! We're family —"
"Keep your voice down!" Eduard hissed.
Tauras sprang up, fists clenched at his side. "I don't care who knows it!"
Eduard stared at his cousin, half amused and half exasperated. Sunlight was creeping across the grounds now; pinpricks of golden light peaked through the trees in the distant forest.
Eduard lowered his gaze. "You should go now," he said quietly. "The rest of the staff'll be up soon. We'll both be in trouble if we're caught — "
"I don't care," Tauras stubbornly repeated.
Eduard threw down his polishing rag. "For God's sake, Tauras! Think of someone besides yourself for once and go!"
Tauras stood there a few more numb moments, his hands opening and closing at his side, too stunned to speak. He left without a word, climbing the stairs two at a time. The house rushed by in blurred color, his feet mechanically carrying him through the great room, to the front hall and up the grand staircase to his own bedroom. He slammed and locked the door behind him, sliding down to sit against it, knees drawing up. He wrapped his arms around them, Eduard's words echoing in his head — a gut punch every time. He almost wished his cousin had actually hit him, for that pain would have been fleeting when compared to the truth and the hurt behind what Eduard had said.
.
o
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The long, thin candle flame guttered in the draft of the dark stairwell. Tauras felt his way along the wall, descending carefully, cautiously in slippered feet down to the servants' quarters. It was well after eleven o'clock at night and he figured by now the staff had retired to their rooms.
The deserted hallway confirmed it.
Even the kitchen was dark as he quietly made his way past it. A dull light shone from under a few doors, but other than the low sound of someone singing, the servants' quarters were quiet.
Tauras tiptoed down to the end, where he knew Eduard's door stood, and knocked softly.
A muffled "Yes?" sounded from within.
"It's me," Tauras whispered. "Can I come in?"
A few moments passed and Tauras, thinking Eduard was still mad about that morning, started to back away to leave, when the door opened.
Even in the dim light, he could see the red rimming Eduard's eyes.
"Well?" Eduard's voice sounded raspy. He sniffed, rubbing the back of his hand against his nose.
"...Can I come in?" Tauras repeated, though now less sure than he had been.
Eduard stepped aside, letting his cousin enter.
Tauras set the candlestick on the dresser as his eyes flitted around the narrow room. Though he knew it to be sparsely furnished, it somehow seemed even more spartan since that morning.
The reason why soon became evident: On the bed sat a suitcase, its lid flipped open. The small items that had dotted the dresser had already been packed away. One of the drawers was pulled open. Eduard went over to it, taking out whatever scant clothing he had and packing it in the case.
"Ed..."
"I told you I had things to do." Eduard's tone would have been sharp were it not for the hoarseness of his voice. Again he wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
Tauras placed a hand on his cousin's arm. Eduard's shoulders slackened. He dropped the shirt he had been holding into the case, letting go of a stuttering breath.
"You know what the worst part is," he said, facing his cousin, his eyes brimming, "I was never asked. I was never asked what I w-wanted! It's just — j-just another stupid order for me to f-follow!" He crumpled then. Tauras caught him, letting Eduard lean against him as his cousin's chest hitched with sobs.
Tauras held him as he cried, cheek pressed against the straight blonde hair that was so unlike his own dark waves, letting Eduard come to stillness.
"Tauras," he said thickly.
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry for — for what I said this morning. I wasn't mad at you. I was mad at them. At...my father — and yours."
"I'm sorry too. And you were right: I hate hearing 'no' for an answer."
Tauras felt his cousin smile. Eduard pulled away, taking off his glasses and drying his eyes with the heel of his hand.
"I wanted to give you this," Tauras said, reaching into the pocket of his dressing robe and taking out a small book. "It's the one I told you about this morning."
"But...you haven't read it yet, have you?"
"I did. This afternoon. You might...I mean, maybe it'll help remind you of...of here — of this country — when y-you're away."
Eduard took the book, his face inscrutable.
"Will you write?" he asked suddenly. "Will you write to me?"
"Of course! Of course I will! Everyday if I can. Will you — do the same?"
A smile stretched across Eduard's face — one that was soon reflected on Tauras'.
"I will," Eduard said with a nod.
They embraced one final time. Neither said goodbye that night for they knew they were not parting. Not really. There would be letters and then maybe one day, when they were older, they would meet again.
.
o
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Tilsit, East Prussia, 1869
Raivis chewed his bottom lip, brow wrinkled in concentration as he tried drawing the letters Tauras had written for him. He was just bringing his pencil around the swoop of the lowercase G, pleased at the smoothness of the curvature, when snap! The pencil lead broke and his perfect line became a jagged ridge.
"Ugh!" he groaned, slapping the pencil down in frustration.
"It's all right," Tauras said gently. Using a small knife, he resharpened the pencil and handed it back to Raivis. "Try not to use too much pressure."
"But this is so hard! And my fingers hurt. Why do I have to learn hand lettering? We've got cases full of letters."
"Yes, but those are block letters and are only good for things like newspapers and books. If a customer comes to you wanting something like invitations printed, they would expect to see something in a nicer script."
"So we would have to do this for every single one?"
Tauras chortled and smiled.
Raivis liked it whenever Mr. Laurinaitis smiled. It brightened his whole face, chasing away the brooding expression he usually wore.
Raivis grinned in return.
"No," Tauras said. "We would not hand letter every single one. We would draw the letters on a lithography stone, etch it, and then make the prints."
"How?"
"I'll show you once your lettering improves."
Raivis' shoulders dropped. "But I can't get the lines right."
"It doesn't need to be perfect straight away. Build up the line. Watch."
Tauras took the pencil and began sketching out a letter. The pencil lines were faint and wispy, like clouds. He traced over them again and again, each time the letter becoming sharper.
"When you've got the shape just the way you want it, then you can start darkening it. Like drawing a portrait, only with letters."
"I've never drawn anything," Raivis mumbled, then: "How do you know how to do this stuff?"
"Because when I first came here, I worked for a printer and he taught me just as I'm teaching you."
"But you make it look so easy."
"Well...I've had many more years of practice."
Tauras tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, remembering the Russian governess his father had hired to teach him to be an accomplished young man and how she would rap his knuckles whenever his drawings were out of proportion or he missed a note playing piano. His mild expression became unreadable. Raivis slouched in his seat, afraid he'd said something wrong.
Tauras cleared his throat. He tried to smile again, but his face just looked pinched.
Raivis had more to ask, but Tauras was already rising. "Keep practicing, and maybe I'll let you try an etching later."
Tauras went over to the door, opened it, and poked his head out into the crisp winter afternoon. Eyes scanned up and down the street, looking for a familiar head of blonde hair and glasses. Eduard was due back soon.
Something cold dropped onto his neck, trickling down beneath the back of his collar. Tauras looked up. Patches of snow clung to his shop sign as it gently swayed in the breeze coming up from the river. He went back inside, retrieving a broom, and began brushing the powder off, careful to not let any more fall on his head. He was surprised — not to mention pleased — to see the lettering underneath had not yet been covered anew in river muck. He wondered vaguely if Eduard had done something or said something to scare off those Prussian boys the last time it had been cleaned.
Tauras went back in, returning to his work — anything, really, to keep his mind from worrying about Eduard. He started typesetting blocks for the second run of the book for the professor. The shop hadn't been busy all week, but Tauras had wanted to save the second printing for when Eduard returned — as if doing so would somehow ensure his cousin's safety. But the work was only a short-lived distraction before he felt himself start to grow restless again.
He checked on Raivis' progress with the letters and found the boy had already greatly improved. Tauras decided to go ahead and show him how to etch a lithography stone. He set a piece of limestone on their work table, careful to avoid touching the smooth, flat surface so the oils from his hands would not get on it and ruin the etch. He let Raivis draw the letters on the stone with a grease pencil — the boy balking at first at having to write them backwards, until Tauras explained it was the same concept as placing the block letters in reverse order in the platens for a positive print. He then applied rosin and talc to prepare the stone for etching. Raivis watched as Tauras brushed on gum arabic and nitric acid next before buffing the stone with a cheesecloth.
They took a break, eating a late lunch while the stone dried, then continued the etch. Tauras took the stone over to a table top press and placed it on the sliding bed. He washed out the image with mineral spirits. Raivis gasped, seeing all his hard lettering work suddenly disappear, but Tauras sent him a knowing smirk before buffing a dark, viscous substance he called asphaltum onto the stone. The image reappeared, except it was fainter, like a ghost impression.
Tauras wet the stone with water, dried it, then wet it again, the process wholly absorbing him. He no longer seemed distracted with worry, Raivis thought.
Using a roller, Tauras transferred ink to the stone. The water repelled the ink except for the places where the asphaltum had been absorbed. He placed a sheet of paper over the stone, instructing Raivis how to set the pressure of the press, then cranked the handle, sending the bed through. Tauras checked the print. Only a very light grey image appeared. Tauras let Raivis take over as they repeated the process of inking and pressing a few more times, each print growing steadily darker as more ink was pushed into the etched stone.
"That's a lot of work!" Raivis said after finally producing a print that met Tauras' expectations. He pushed the sweat-dampened curls off his forehead and sank onto a stool.
Tauras said nothing, just hummed in response, and began cleaning up. Raivis noticed him eyeing the door as he worked. The light outside was already turning copper as the sun set.
They ate dinner in silence. Raivis, for once knowing when to hold his tongue, refrained from commenting on Eduard's noticeable absence. He went upstairs to the garret bedroom he shared with Tauras soon after, keeping watch at the window for Mr. Laurinaitis' cousin to return. Tauras would be downstairs at his desk with a cup of tea, doing the same, Raivis knew.
.
o
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In the distance, the church bells were tolling six times when the door to the shop opened and in Eduard stepped, looking travel worn but smiling.
"Thank God," Tauras breathed. He rose as feet thudded from the stairs above. Raivis launched himself at Eduard, throwing his arms around his neck.
Eduard staggered back a little, catching himself with a laugh. With a pointed look from Tauras, Raivis let go, beaming at Eduard with a smile that said he was glad for his return. Then the boy picked up Eduard's now much lighter suitcase and took it up to his room.
Eduard shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the rack. "I'm sorry I was late. The carriage broke a wheel and I wanted to get a telegram to Leipzig the moment I returned, and — what?" he said at the look on his cousin's face.
"N-nothing!" Tauras sniffed. "I'm happy you're back." He smiled but Eduard could hear the strain in his voice.
"Come on. We need to celebrate." Eduard clapped Tauras on the shoulder, then pulled out a bottle of vodka from his coat pocket and handed it to his cousin.
"Hm. No midus, then?" Tauras asked as Raivis came back down the stairs.
Eduard shook his head. "Besides, I thought this would go over better than honey liqueur if I had been searched by any Russian authorities. Offer them a nip of their national drink and they'll take the bottle, leaving you alone."
Tauras went into the kitchen, followed by his cousin and Raivis. He poured himself and Eduard a drink. They toasted each other then sat and drank. Tauras poured out two more, eyeing Raivis and wishing the boy had stayed upstairs so he could talk to his cousin in private.
"How was it?" Tauras asked, switching from German to Lithuanian.
Raivis folded his arms and scowled. He hated when they did that. He only knew a few words, things he recognized from printing the books, but not enough to string a sentence together. He shot a glare at Tauras, knowing he was being dismissed, and went back up to his room.
"Not bad," Eduard said. "Except for the broken wheel. I telegrammed Leipzig, letting the professor know the first delivery was a success. How has the second run been coming?"
Tauras' face flushed. "I haven't really started."
Eduard took a measured sip of vodka. "He'll probably want that delivery made soon."
"Are you eager to get back?" Tauras teased, cocking an eyebrow.
"I'm eager to get paid."
Tauras sighed. "There are risks, Ed. You know we need to space out these trips. And if you keep hiring carriages, you'll use what money we do have."
Eduard glared petulantly at the table. He downed the rest of his vodka, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Then I'll switch up the disguise. I'll grow my beard and cross through the woods as a beggar." Eduard rubbed his chin, thinking. "I would need about a month for anything decent, although we could do it sooner if I dressed ragged enough..."
Tauras blinked, stunned — and hurt — by his cousin's sudden desire to leave again. If only he knew what it was like to be left behind with nothing to fill his never ending days but work and worry.
"You seem awfully insistent on returning, for someone who disowned his homeland," Tauras said, voice edged with spite.
"Christ, Tauras," Eduard groaned. "I was ten when I said that! And if I really hated it so much, do you think I'd be helping you do this? The sooner I go back, the sooner we can get paid again."
Tauras watched his cousin shrewdly. Eduard's focus had always been singular: money. Even before they started smuggling books. But there was something else to it this time. Eduard had always been sensible when it came to his trips across the border. Never before had he been this eager to go back. This was about more than just the money. And whatever it was, was blinding him.
"There's something you're not telling me."
Eduard slouched back in his seat, folding his arms in an uncanny resemblance of Raivis. "No there isn't — "
"Then why are you pushing this? We need to plan. We need to plan and spread out the trips. When was the last time you crossed on foot? It's been at least two years! The patrols will have changed — we need to observe — "
"That's your answer to everything!" Eduard cried, slapping his hand on the table. "Watch and wait!"
"You're being too impetuous. You need to stop and think a moment — "
"Sometimes you can't always do that. Sometimes you just have to act! You don't know what it's like — "
"You're right," Tauras said quietly. "I don't. But I...I just want you to be safe."
"Then you shouldn't have started this in the first place! Or you should have left me out of it!" Eduard stood suddenly, sending his chair clattering to the floor, and left the kitchen.
Tauras could hear him stomping up the stairs, the muffled sound of a door slam overhead. He chewed his lip, frowning. The last time he had seen Eduard this upset, they were boys. Something in his cousin had changed since his departure a week ago. Something had happened on this last trip, Tauras was sure, prompting his cousin's sudden reckless desire to return to Lithuania sooner than usual. Tauras just wished Eduard would tell him what that was.
.
o
.
The next day, Eduard received a telegram back from Leipzig, asking if the second round could be expedited — and promising to send payment if the answer was affirmative. He smiled grimly to himself, feeling the universe was somehow fully justifying his want to go on another smuggling run. He could only imagine what Tauras' reaction would be.
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A/N Thank you all for the wonderful comments and fanart I've received for this story! You all are the best and I truly appreciate it :). Now onto history/language notes:
- Timeline: Tauras and Eduard are 5 at the beginning of this chapter, then 8 when they play that fateful game of hide-and-seek, and finally 10 when Eduard is sent off to school in Germany
- Hall boy: Eduard's position in the estate. Hall boys were essentially servants of the servants. They were the lowest ranked male servant in a household staff and performed some of the most disagreeable tasks such as emptying chamber pots, cleaning boots, or whatever else was asked of them. They typically worked 16 hour days, seven days a week.
- Midus: Lithuanian mead made from grain, honey, water and other spices.