Chapter IV

Chapter IV

Leaning against an old wall being rebuilt on this side of the street in the Kraiova neighborhood, Stefan, while waiting, watched the scattered builders and stonemasons doing repair work on the church. Strong scaffolding made of pine pillars with interlocking beams and planks was firmly planted in the ground all around the walls. There was intensified rhythmic banging from hammers and adzes, saws cutting and workers shouting. The old churches were made of wood, only their foundations and the walls just above them were made of stone, so when they were repaired or demolished they were rebuilt with stones and baked bricks. They were then plastered with a façade decor and a new roof was added, which looked amazing to the people. Bridges, fountains, parks and houses were also renovated; and all this in the last four or five summers as a result of Oltania’s increase in trade and economic strength. Kraiova was known as the “the city of money” and its palace as “the house of money”, which belonged to the early Kraiova boyars. About fifteen years ago, when the Russians occupied Bucharest, it became a capital and the master fled here.

- More money, more churches. This is how it was with the Kraiova boyars who, two or three centuries ago, accumulated a lot of money, built hundreds of villages for themselves and founded the monasteries and churches. They did this to create titles for themselves such as viceroy, duke, prince and whatnot! – This is what Stefan had heard about the building in front of him. But he didn’t think so. Eighteen-year-old Stefan was getting involved with a family which had inherited property from the great Matei Besarab, a viceroy from those boyars. Stefan was falling in love with Elena Balachesku, a nobleman’s only daughter. The Balachesku family had a long history which went back two centuries to a rear master called Konstantin Brankoveni, born in Wallachia. With the great amounts of money he was given in Istanbul he brought peace,

prosperity and fame to the region. He brought so much gold that they began to call him “Altan Bey” (Altan Bey (Tur. Altin bey) -Gold Prince). On the other hand, he, along with his four sons and councilor Vakaresku, was executed in Istanbul in the summer of 1714, at the behest of the Phanariots of Kantakuzin. Since then, the Phanariots have ascended to the throne of Wallachia and are still holding it. The second youngest of Brankoveni’s seven daughters was Balacha, Elena’s grandmother. A family with such roots wouldn’t easily reconcile with the knowledge that Elena was with a “commoner” like Stefan, and a foreigner at that! In the higher social classes love between young people was meaningless to the parents. It didn’t exist and everything was calculated. Agreements could be reached if parents decided… without taking into consideration the feelings of the young. As for the poor people love was free, feelings were taken into consideration without the prejudices and whims of ambitious parents. The poor lived in rural settings or modestly in poor urban neighbourhoods.

Elena falling in love with someone from a lower class was taboo news. It would have been impossible had she not had her father’s favour. She was naughty and sweet to him since she was a child and she was still the same at age sixteen, losing her head to Stefan. She had caught Stefan’s eye from the first moment she saw him and heard his voice. She was captivated by his poise, good looks, always tidy blonde hair, being comfortable around him and his cleverness in conversation. Even his foreign accent and his miraculous smile were cute to her. His large and penetrating green eyes dazzled her. They mesmerized her to a point where she felt she couldn’t think or sleep soundly. When she was prohibited from seeing him she was eaten with sorrow. And the more they tried to separate them, the more she suffered, the more fiercely she loved him. In spite of all odds, they still managed to see each other. Stefan came to her home secretly at night by the fence. From her darkened window Elena made liniment for her love wounds from her restless beating heart. Starting from the middle of her chest, that liniment poured in gentle words from her smiling lips, playfully landing on his senses, and his whole enchanted being. At times her mother stepped in to check on her. She often noticed Stefan’s silhouette outside – the moonlight bouncing off him in the dark.

“What’s the most beautiful ballerina’s name?” asked Stefan gallantly, his question echoing in the halls where they had met for the first time after a ballet group performance in the theatre. He found a way to run into her in the hallway as she was returning from behind the scenes. Courage in flattery brought close encounters. The envious didn’t understand that, so they hurried to inform her father. And there were many of them. So, who could resist the surge of pleasant warmth in their hearts seeing such a beautiful, slender full-bodied, well-dressed and graceful young woman passing them by in the bazaar? To make matters worse, Stefan by-passed them all. Their first secret messages led to night meetings at her house and in the park. From their shy conversations and holding hands, they progressed to their first kisses, and then they became more and more passionate, so that in the end, in their firm hugs, they could hear their heartbeats.

They didn’t think of the consequences but encountered restrictions and all the panic that their love raised.

“She must come... now that her father has left for Severin,” said Stefan while waiting for her anxiously. The victim of their love was their prohibition; not being able to see one another. He was angry because they had to pay for the minutes stretched out to eternity as a result of someone’s prejudices, envy and malice.

“Elena my love!” said Stefan excitedly when she arrived by the hidden part of the old wall, and then hugged her tightly. Intoxicated with her, he kissed her sporadically like he needed those kisses to make himself happier, and Elena reacted with passion. The only thing that separated them from the street was a small wall; a place that couldn’t hold Stefan. He led her to the corner behind the park. They left behind Elena’s street with the lavish houses of famous craftsmen, tailors, furriers, halva makers, bakers, butchers, but also old nobles.

“My dear morning and evening star, there isn’t a day or night that goes by in which you aren’t in my mind and heart. Did you ask your father!” said Stefan in a single breath as soon as they arrived in the park.

“My sweet, before I told him that you would come to look for me, I said that my desire for you won’t stop until I am with you. My father was furious and yelled a lot; about circumstances, his work, his reputation and honour on which I trampled, and just about... practically everything!” said Elena, sitting on a flat and low cut, thick tree stump with exposed roots sticking out of the ground. This was their place, well-hidden in the tall bushes and trees of the park. Still excited Elena continued talking:

“I then said ‘Behold, the bride of Stefan Belio, a monk from a distant monastery wearing a mourning monastic dress or a heavenly dress, because for me there is no life without him!’…”

“Oh my unsurpassed beauty, you embarrass me! ...I have been waiting here like a worthless quitter and you are leading our battle alone!” yelled Stefan in a voice full of helplessness.

“Wait for the most important part! Then my father started yelling your name: ‘Belio, Belio…! What word is that? It means nothing in our language, nor in the Greek or in any other noble language, except for the people from whom it originated, from his Macedonia! ...Maybe in Russian, but the Russian nobility don’t speak and write in their simple language, but in French! And what will the words Elena Belio mean? With no origin…, and worst of all, the name of a foreigner? The closest thing to our language is Belu, and that’s another thing.’…” said Elena with a radiant face.

“Insults, your father didn’t say anything new. What is so important?” replied Stefan.

“The importance is in that ‘Belu’. I’m the only child my father has and I long for you. I know that my father will agree to our marriage if you change your last name that way! ...It matters to him because of other people…” said Elena.

“My beloved, I’m ready to do everything for you, but your father wants me to renounce myself and my family; a discourteous act for me... And how will my identity be moral for me if I change two letters? Exactly those two letters which bring me honour and

existence! What will my family say? In my country Belu doesn’t mean anything!” replied Stefan.

“I don’t understand men’s vanity. I stand against mine because my identity isn’t more important to me than you!” said Elena.

“Oh, my sweet Elena, you embarrass me again,” said Stefan bluntly, “we men carry a burden with our vanity and honour.”

They were silent, swimming in their thoughts for a while. Elena leaned on him with her worried forehead, from which her beautiful reddish-brown hair flowed over and ran down her neck. There was a rose with small petals on the side sticking out. Her hair flowed down in pleasant curls around her neck. Stefan could see his reflection and the reflection of the tree canopy around them in her very bright eyes under her thin eyebrows. And while they sat there, a gentle breeze blew bringing fresher air from the forest in the park, mixed with the aroma of fresh lilac blooming in the surrounding bushes. The sharpness of the intoxicating scent seemed to relax them. Elena leaned her head lightly on his lap so that her face came opposite his while he was bent forward above her. They relaxed and forgot about their worries, hugging with greater passion. Intoxicated by her fresh and soft skin, Stefan continued to gently kiss her on the neck, face, lips and hands. Elena responded with sighs while running her fingers through his hair. Unaware of time and space, they wanted their moment together to last. In their tight embrace they managed to squeeze reality out of their minds and everything across the park at the luxurious houses, seemed distant to them. Whatever their love affair was, from time to time they remembered the slow steps they took to reach the threshold of consciousness. She was prohibited from seeing him but she kept going back to him.

“My dear, I can’t do this anymore. As soon as my father returns you will have to talk to him. Let him get to know you as soon as possible, let him see for himself what kind of person you are and not the kind he thinks you are,” said Elena firmly.

“How will he change his mind about me with a single conversation?” replied Stefan.

“My father has been asking about you, he talked to Jon the tailor and the other tradesmen. They all praised your work with the orderly keeping of the books. This has already helped to somewhat change his opinion of you,” said Elena.

“He inquired about me and my job?” asked Stefan.

“Yes, he also knows about your uncle who is well-respected in Bucharest and that he has become a bishop. I heard him talking about it with my mother. He may not change his mind right away after you meet him but with more meetings, I believe he will. You behave and express yourself like an educated person who is devoted to seeking fairness,” replied Elena.

“Dear Elena, what are you trying to tell me? ...To have chats with your father, through many meetings?” asked Stefan.

“I know my dear, it sounds unattainable but don’t worry, that’s my concern. All you need to do is one thing; consent to change your name Belio to Belu. Everything else depends on that,” said Elena.

“My dear Elena, don’t pressure me. This is like being sold in the market… I will have to put a price on myself; the price that was decided by my buyer! It’s very unworthy!” replied Stefan.

“Yes, it looks that way, but then you will have a pile of dignity, and others will be in front of you with miserable prices, believe me. They go to my father every day and they are important people!” said Elena.

Stefan was confused. He had been placed in a very difficult situation. He remembered what his uncle the priest had told him about temptations and dignity. But he was able to calm his conscience because of Balachesku’s dignity, which was centuries old and earned by the extreme suffering of Konstantin Brankoveni and his four sons in Istanbul. Stefan thought: “If their dignity survived for this long – it survived for a reason!”

“You know my dear that nothing is more important to me than our love. So, if this is the only solution to preserve it, then so be it!” said Stefan calmly.

“That’s wonderful my dearest! Don’t feel bad, be happy!” yelled Elena and threw herself on him.

Her naughtiness, new energy and joy slowly overtook Stefan. And in return he loosened up in order to briefly subdue his love ascension, tasting the juicy elixir of her lips, cheeks, throat and visible shoulders under her luxurious green velvet dress. Their excitement carried them away. The rhythm of Elena’s breath grew stronger and deeper coming in waves from the rising and falling of her chest. Stefan, intoxicated by the sweetness of the divine taste, slowly extinguished his passion as if wanting the magic of the moment to last. Their bodies intertwined in her velvet green dress merging with the soft grass carpet on which they made love. And the following days passed in the same manner of passion.

As soon as her father returned from Severin, Elena went to work to create the seemingly anticipated events. However, her father too was a man of many feelings and knew what Stefan was going through because he too was broken in by lady Balacha to accept a noble name in order to marry her daughter. But, unlike Stefan, he didn’t have a low status. Unfortunately his family was so impoverished that nothing was left of their status and he accepted the offer without much hesitation. As a son-in-law Elena’s father felt uncomfortable in the household where Balacha dominated. He often traveled and took on jobs to fill the open abyss and to prove that he could work and earn his own money. His dedication paid off, especially in the summer after the grandmother moved to Gorna Zemia. He was able to expand his properties and fill the coffers of his treasury with money, but all that came at a price. In his absence Balachesku was left by himself with only a single child, Elena, who became his most precious thing. And here was Stefan with an even greater pain. His status was established by his uncle the bishop, and by his work at the guilds, but his foreign surname was still an obstacle. Just as Elena made the announcement, she disappeared.

“Yes, that’s really something... Daughter, what can I tell you, let him come tomorrow and we’ll see,” said Balachesku to his happy daughter who threw herself into his arms, hugging him like she had in the past while his heart trembled with joy. He didn’t want to disturb the newly established closeness between them, so immediately, in the days that followed, he began to see Stefan. Their first meeting was the hardest. The two weren’t comfortable around each other, but with each meeting the ice began to melt. The nobleman found Stefan interesting. For a young man he had a wide perspective on various subjects. Stefan even produced proof of his knowledge by showing him some of his work including transcripts with legal advice. But, as time progressed, the topics they discussed became less and less important and so did Stefan’s rivals who slowly began to disappear as they reconciled with reality. The surname Belio also disappeared. This subject dragged on until the day came when Stefan went to a judge and gave a statement initialed with his new surname - Belu. Balachesku also kept his word, the day after Mitrovden in the summer of 1785 Stefan would marry the most beautiful girl in town.

There was no end to the immense joy and happiness. Guests filled not only the yard but also the street beyond the house fence. This was the same fence which Stefan was sneaking through, breaking the shackles of their then forbidden and now celebrated and publicized love. The bride radiated with happiness and no less the groom who escorted her out on the veranda in front of everyone. Many people came to see them, even more to dance to the music and to their happiness. More and more guests joined the dance floor hopping and moving to the beat of the loud music played by the musicians hired by Balachesku. And not just the guests, not to be outdone Ion the tailor also participated, spending his money with joy. He pulled out money from his belt and handed it to the musicians. He acted like this was his own son’s wedding. Those who meant something to Stefan as well as those associated with him, like the merchants and the scholars from the guilds of the bazaar, were also there. Stefan hadn’t found anyone with that kind of ingenuity in books; the bazaar loved the energy and enthusiasm. The guests kept tipping the musicians, who played non-stop raising their spirits even more. The dance floor kept growing and it seemed like no one was getting tired of dancing. And so the dancing went on

without stopping. That’s how it was… the drums rumbled on, the clarinets thundered, the trumpets trumpeted and the flutes squeaked, sending their sounds all over Kraiova. It was a great celebration, like never before seen here. And there was no one, long after that, who didn’t talk about Elena and Stefan Belu’s wedding.