Laurus gives Anastasia the small scraps people continue to bring them. To Laurus’s joy, the chunk of bread he took from the monastery has still not all been eaten. He partakes of it with gratitude and trembling.
Nobody has come to see Laurus since the beginning of August. This does not surprise him. Everyone understands the healing has run out, so they consider visits to Laurus needless. Some might still have come to him but the general mood has spread to them, too. After what they have heard about Laurus in Rukina Quarter, it is somehow awkward to go see him. People fear appearing naive or—even more disagreeable—like they connive at sin.
Laurus is lonely. He did not experience loneliness when he escaped from the world because there had been no feeling of abandonment then. Now the world is escaping from him, which is something entirely different. Laurus is unsettled. He sees that the time is nearing when Anastasia will be delivered of her burden. And he does not know how he ought to proceed.
Anastasia is unsettled, too. She feels Laurus’s agitation and does not understand its cause. It surprises her that the great doctor Laurus is so worked up about delivering the baby, a crucial matter but, really, a common one. Laurus has suggested several times that she go to Rukina Quarter to give birth so a midwife can deliver the baby, but Anastasia flat-out refuses. She does not know what to expect from Rukina Quarter. She is afraid to return there.
There are also days when she is afraid to stay with Laurus. Sometimes Anastasia thinks he has lost his mind. Laurus calls her Ustina at times. He tells her she should not refuse a midwife’s help. That if she is afraid to go to the quarter, they should summon the woman here. Laurus is covered with sweat and shaking. She has never seen him like this.
Anastasia listens to the words addressed to Ustina and says “yes” on a lovely August morning. She will not go to Rukina Quarter to give birth but agrees to have a midwife come to her from there. Laurus presses her hand to his chest. Anastasia senses his heart’s desperate beating. She feels that the hour when she will be delivered of her burden is nearing.
Laurus leaves his place of seclusion for the first time in long years. He walks along the path worn by those who have come to him for help. Now he is the one who needs help. And he has nobody to send for it because nobody comes here anymore. Laurus walks, wondering how Anastasia will feel in his absence. He tries to hurry but his breathing is uneven. Laurus stops for a minute and breathes deeply before entering Rukina Quarter. He closes his eyes and breathes. He feels better already. He enters the quarter, keeping his heartbeat in check.
People appear in the doorways of their homes. They soundlessly surround Laurus. Do not take their eyes off him. Even after everything that has happened, the residents of Rukina Quarter cannot believe he has come. Had the Kirillov Monastery itself come to them, the effect would have been the very same. Laurus indicates the forest as he addresses the residents. They cannot hear him because a gust of wind swoops down. He is asking for help. His lips are moving. The quarter’s residents know he is asking for help but there is no help. The midwife is away now. She has never in her life gone anywhere but now she has gone away, that’s just how it is. And nobody can take her place. Absolutely nobody. This has nothing to do with their unwillingness.
Laurus looks around at the crowd and sinks to his knees before them. He says nothing. Everything he said has already entered ears that he treated. Been absorbed by eyes he also treated. He asks for the kindness he showed them for so many years. Many weep, for their hearts are not made of stone. And so, somehow, nothing is working out in a normal human way, but what can they do? Turning aside, they wipe away their tears. They look down at the visitor. Laurus’s figure is wavering in their eyes, its form and contours changing. Rising. Withdrawing.
Laurus does not immediately understand he is going to the hamlet. His feet still remember this path. He and Christofer walked it so many times. Does he hope to catch him there? Christofer apparently died long ago. So long ago that it is impossible to be certain about anything. No, of course, he died and is lying in the cemetery: it was Laurus, after all, who covered his grave with a sheepskin. Then why is he going to see him?
Christofer is in place, in his grave. He spent all the years that have passed here. His grave can still be seen in the thick greenery by the fence. If, of course, this is his grave. But Christofer’s home is not here. Just as Christofer foresaw, a church stands in his home’s place. A church is more important than a home at a cemetery because a cemetery is a home in and of itself.
The church’s door is open. Laurus breathes in the scent of August before entering. He looks at dry autumn birch leaves that are touched by the first yellowing, a little tired of summer. Splotches of sun on the railings. A spider’s thoughtful gliding. This is a return, but his home has become Home.
Candles are burning in the church. Alipy, abbot of the Kirillov Monastery, comes out through the royal doors of the iconostasis. There is a Communion chalice in his hands.
Thou hast come, O Laurus?
I have come.
Elder Innokenty died and could not meet you today. (Alipy is slowly moving in Laurus’s direction.) That is why he made this request of me.
There is a murmur of a warm breeze behind Laurus’s back. The candle flame wavers and the icons come to life. After taking Communion, Laurus says:
You know, I have a favor to ask, too. When I leave my body, do not be very ceremonious with it, for I have, after all, synned with it. Tie a rope to the legs and drag it into the swampy wilds for the animals and vipers to tear to pieces. That’s basically it.
As he stands in the doorway of the church, Laurus contemplates Alipy’s doleful face.
That is my last will, says Laurus. And it should be carried out.
Laurus returns to his cave in the evening. The expectant mother’s labor pains have already begun. He settles her in on the sleeping ledge in the cave and prepares water to bathe the newborn. He prepares a knife to cut the newborn’s umbilical cord. He starts a fire in the glade in front of the cave. Laurus is calm. And he once again feels the power in his hands.
Anastasia (Anastasia?) does not feel like lying in the dark cave and she asks to have bedding arranged for her in the glade. Laurus looks at the sky. There are no rain clouds in the sky. Only bright clouds tinted by the sunset—there will not be rain. He arranges bedding for her in the glade. She lies down facing the cave. The two entrances to the cave remind her of a pair of enormous eyes, open and full of darkness. The cave is like a head. She asks him to help her turn toward the other side. Now she is looking at the forest. The forest is tall and kind. Cozy. Quiet.
Do not leave me, she asks of Laurus.
I am here, my love, Laurus replies. And we are together.
He takes her palm into his hands and coolness flows into it. He takes her pain into his hands. Absorbs drop after drop. Occasionally stands to toss a branch on the fire. In the darkness that has fallen, she can see only his face. The flame from the fire lights it. The terrain of his wrinkles is animated. The fire crackles, spraying sparks. The sparks fly up to the very crowns of the pine trees. Some go out. Others fly higher, to mix with the first stars. Her eyes are directed at the sky, she sees everything. Her eyes reflect the fire’s blaze.
Laurus’s hand is on her belly.
Is that better?
Better.
She shrieks. The whole forest shrieks with her.
Be patient a little longer, my love. Only a little longer.
She is patient. And shrieks anyway.
Laurus’s hands feel the child’s head. It is as if it has stuck to his hands and is gently coming outside. Shoulders. Belly. Knees. Heels. Laurus cuts the umbilical cord. He bathes the baby with warm water.
Here he is, my love.
He shows her the child and tears glisten on the folds of his cheeks. The little boy is improbably pink in the fire’s reflection. Or maybe he is still not completely bathed of her blood. The little boy fills his lungs with air and shrieks. She inhales that shriek into herself, all of it, leaving nothing. She lays the baby to her breast to feed. Her eyes are half-closed. She is calm for the first time in many days. She falls asleep. On the soft, warm grass of the glade, Laurus swaddles the newborn in a clean kerchief. He takes the baby in his arms. Laurus is also calm.