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“Do you remember my first hunt?” Erik asked lightly as he cooked the fish he had just caught with his bare hands. After a long and patient preparation, after an hour he caught a perch. Ištván watched him dispassionately as Erik scraped the scales off the dead fish.
“Which one do you mean?” he looked into the fire he had just started. He slowly added wood to keep it going. The sun was about to set any minute, so the small fire provided warmth. Mostly for Erik, who was standing waist-deep in the river. At least the sacrifice had paid off. One fish didn’t make him a hunter, but luckily he managed to catch a rabbit too. Today they could eat. “The very first one? In the summer, when you held me like a puppy and begged me not to shoot the deer?”
A cute memory. Erik’s very first hunt. He was barely fifteen when he joined Tóth's group. Being a village boy he had never been hunting before. He stomped in the forest, tripped over every big branch, or worse, fell into the nettles. And not once!
"Or! You mean that attempt of building a trap and instead you fell into a nettle patch?" Ištván laughed as he broke a stick in half and threw it into the fire. Erik puffed out his cheeks like a fish. One of the more shameful memories he was not proud of. The story amused all the men in the camp. For weeks Erik had been nicknamed the Nettle King. Thanks to this, of course, he had built up a strong tolerance for nettles and today he was one of the few who could tear up stacks of nettles without gloves.
"Are you still having fun at my expense?" Erik sat down by the fire and continued to cut the fish into smaller pieces.
“Who wouldn’t laugh at a child who fell into nettles?” Absolutely everyone, that was the problem. Not a very good start to Erik’s new life in the bandit camp. He was scraping himself for days at a time. He could barely carry weapons and other equipment. The only use for him in such a difficult situation was in the kitchen or in the baths. Like a hot rag, they threw him from one place to another until his healthy color returned.
“They were fresh. I was red from shoulders to feet!”
“Like an angry bumblebee! But hot baths with soap helped.”
“And cold compresses.” Yes, Erik’s accident was ridiculous, it caused a lot of commotion and made a funny story. But they didn’t let him suffer. All care was directed at getting the boy back on his feet as quickly as possible. Ištván felt sorry for the boy, but he was not allowed to show it. The extra care for the newcomer could backfire on him, especially when it was a village boy who had barely warmed himself by the campfire. Too soon, too noticeable. The care had to be subtle.
The memory was humorous, but Erik didn't laugh much. He sat by the fire, quietly roasting gutted and cut fish. He wasn't having much fun on his own. Fortunately, Ištván knew when it was no longer funny.
“And what about your first good hunt? When you held a crossbow and tried to hit a target?” he offered a more cheerful memory.
“That was my first summer?” hope dawned as the boy looked up from the fire to his beloved. He was smiling nicely at him, so he smiled at him too. “Well, I don’t remember much. Did I mess something up?”
“On the contrary!” said Ištván enthusiastically. “Don’t you remember your first catch?”
Erik’s first catch, apart from a kilo of nettles, was a hare. It took half a day and a dozen arrows, but he did it. Whether it was pure coincidence combined with luck or the hare consciously wanted to end its miserable life, Erik, as a boy of just sixteen, had caught his first prey. He himself didn’t believe it at first. He was afraid to even examine the dead animal with an arrow in its body.
"Are you afraid it'll run away? Bring it." Ištván ordered the boy. The boy hesitantly set off to the spot where the innocent animal had fallen. An arrow as big as the boy stuck out of the animal like a banner. It wasn't hard to find, the arrow had brightly colored feathers. A dead hare lay in a pool of blood. The arrow was deep in its small body. The boy began to feel sick. It was the first time he had seen a dead animal with his own eyes. He had never been allowed to see an animal's corpse before. His mother had always covered his eyes or chased him away.
"Where are you going, little one? Have you lost your mother?!" Ruth shouted at him from the other side of the plain. It was a common remark that he tried to provoke the boy into some kind of reaction - anger or sadness, he didn't care. A reaction was wanted. However, he didn't get one. Erik was dismayed by the slowly cooling corpse of the hare. Instinctively, he clasped his hands together and began to recite forgiveness.
“Why are you praying, Erik?” Tóth appeared from behind the bushes. He stopped just behind the boy and looked over his shoulder. The hare was still in the same place, not moving. His little apprentice had indeed managed to catch his first prey. He just didn’t like the attitude. Was the boy really praying and asking for forgiveness? For catching his dinner? The boy couldn’t hold back the village within him.
After reciting a short prayer, Erik dared to look over his shoulder. His master had come to check on him. To make sure that he had really succeeded in fulfilling the task he had given him.
“I thanked the Lord for giving me luck on the hunt. And I asked him to accept the hare in the kingdom of heaven.”
Ištván couldn't help but laugh. The best nonsense he had heard in the last few days. "There is no heaven, boy. Or hell. It's church nonsense, meant to scare people away from evil deeds and keep them inside the fence, like cattle." He wasn’t nice. A radical cut was needed to free Erik from the weak understanding of the world that stupid people had instilled in him. Whether he believed in GOD or the supernatural, but talk about forgiveness, blessings and sinning was ridiculous and meaningless. If in the eyes of God he was supposed to be a sinner, so be it, but people were born that way. And constantly praying to something, just to wash their hands of the sins with which they were let into this world, was not only stupid, tiring but above all useless. And Erik had to understand this philosophy as soon as possible, otherwise he would face conflict, and not only with Ištván.
“So what are you waiting for? Pull out the arrow and let’s go.” He nudged the boy into action. The boy only staggered and knelt uncertainly by the hare’s corpse. But he had lingered for too long. Ištván’s patience ran out. He stamped on the hare and quickly pulled out the arrow.
“Listen, boy,” he returned the arrow to his hand. He did not look enthusiastic. “The longer you think about every order, the worse it will turn out. Whatever I say, you will do.”
Erik swallowed and tried desperately to keep the tears from starting in his eyes. He took the hare by the ears and followed his master back to the camp. He tried to always do as he was told, but he still had trouble adapting to the new life in the camp. The people were different, the regime was different, even the food was different. However, he had to relearn very quickly. As his master had said, he didn’t want to make a bad name for himself right from the start.
“Erik,” Ištván felt a little guilty. He didn’t want to be mean to the newcomer just because he was learning a new fact about how to get food in the wilderness. But he couldn’t afford to look like a fool in his own camp just because he gave a chance to a boy who was trembling like a rabbit at the sight of a corpse. They still had a lot of work ahead of them, and this was just the beginning. The boy raised his head uncertainly. “Do as you’re told and you’ll avoid trouble. Learn while you have the chance. You must be ready for real life before the war comes. I’m counting on you to embrace all the changes. I’d hate to be disappointed in my choice.”
The boy’s eyes sparkled. Ištván didn’t know if he had scared him even more.
“I…will not let you down, my lord!” With his excited expression and the dead hare, the boy looked a bit…strange. But that didn’t stop the older man from chuckling.
"Just between us..." he looked around cautiously. They were partly in the forest, no one far away, "you can call me by my name. But only when we are alone." A small pat on the head followed. Erik’s hair was soft.
"Y-Yes! Of course, as you wish, Štefan!"
“Štefan?” how much time had passed since the moment Tóth had delved deep into his memories? Seconds? Minutes?
“Hmm?” he hid his confusion under an innocent smile. It always impressed Erik. “I was so proud of you. Look where you’ve come since then…” only now did he notice that Erik was creating something. It looked like a wreath of flowers.
“You were? And today?” When their eyes met, a chill ran down Ištván’s spine. He knew that look. Dreamy, loving and warm. So why was it so surprising?
“I-I’m still proud of you, my boy. There’s not a day that I doubt you.” The wreath of dandelions and poppies was starting to take shape. “Are you creating something again?”
"This? It's almost done. I improved the structure a bit. May I?" he stood up without hesitation and approached the seated man with the flower wreath, who was confusedly searching for the right words. He bowed his head slightly, knowing what was about to happen to him. The wreath, like a crown, fit perfectly around his head. Erik had years of experience in creating cute wreaths. A village heirloom that Ištván had come to value more and more over the years they had spent together. Such an ordinary thing, yet it was the art of processing wild weeds into something so...pretty.
"You should broaden your skills, Erik. Crowns are getting more and more beautiful, but what about another kind of jewelry?" Erik furrowed his eyebrows. What was hidden behind the sky-blue eyes? He adjusted the wreath on his head and felt the individual flowers. "Does it suit me?"
"Something is missing," Erik smiled. It was interesting that his ears were red. It was impossible not to notice them. “But you have to close your eyes.” Another gift for Ištván? Was it his birthday? Such enthusiasm for ordinary flowers was almost ridiculous, but Ištván couldn’t get rid of the stupid smile on his face. One of the few other weaknesses that he tried in vain to hide. How much joy could a dusty meadow weed bring…
“If you can’t do it any other way…” not knowing what was coming. He stupidly surrendered to his boy, closed his eyes and bit his lip to get rid of that stupid smile. When he felt Erik take off his gloves, he became uncertain. What was the cunning boy up to? He really wanted to cheat, but as he said, trust came first, so he swallowed uncertainly and waited.
“I think it fits. Look!” A single dandelion curled up like a small ring proudly adorned Ištván's ring finger. A crown on his head and a ring on his finger. The older man was overcome by wild thoughts. Such as could not happen in the real world.... Erik knelt before him, admiring his creation, while Ištván vainly searched for a way to escape the thoughts that appeared in his sick mind when he thought about what this scene could mean. "It suits you so much, but I prefer our first rings!"
"The first?"
"I hope you have not forgotten..."
Erik also took off his gloves. On his right hand, full of scars and calluses, there was a strange scar, deep and never fading. A scar around the ring finger, perfectly embracing the entire finger. The same scar, this time on Ištván's right hand, on the same finger. A deep scar around one finger. A promise that confirmed their love. They would never be married in life, so the promise of fidelity was the only way to achieve at least the imaginary status of eternity.
Confirmed that night under the open sky. Like an obedient dog that bit so that the scar would be eternal.
It was also one of the reasons why Ištván always wore gloves. Their promise was sacred. It was theirs. And no one was allowed to know about it.
“We belong together.” Erik, with Ištván’s hand on his cheek, gave a kiss to his scarred ring finger. He caressed it tenderly, just like the promise he confirmed.
“Nothing can separate us.”