(Yah-�u Nahkts)
Chapter 8
Everyone hurried to finish the day�s chores before the evening, when the festivities would start. And, not long after the sun had lost its brightness, slowly disappearing into the steely waters of the sea and draining the sky of its color, someone knocked on the door of Voloshin�s house. Anastasiya Petrovna, a petite, silver-haired woman with kind, blue eyes � so expressive that, at times, Diego could read in them what he could not understand from her broken English � walked over to the door and opened it, letting in a small group of young men. One of them, a tall, broad-shouldered lad, whose head was majestically crowned with a wreath of oak leaves, bowed politely, greeting the lady of the house, and said something to her in that strange language that was so unlike anything Diego or Annabelle ever knew. �J?nis go to Za?u Sala,� the old woman translated, straining to find the right words. �He invite � all you.� She made a wide hand gesture to include the young couple. They nodded their understanding, and, a few moments later, were sitting amidst a noisy, joyful company on a boat that was taking them across the river Daugava to the green shores of Za?u Sala.
Za?u Sala, roughly translated from Latvian as The Hare�s Island, was located right in the middle of Daugava � that magnificent river that took its rather humble beginnings in the heart of Russia, right by the mighty Volga, and reached its full abundance only near Riga. Diego didn�t quite know whether Za?u Sala received its name for its rather modest size or for the fact that the island was covered with a thick, dense forest that could very well be the abode of hundreds of these sprightly little animals.
He felt his heart start to beat faster and faster in agitation, as their small boat neared the shore where the multitude of bonfires have split the pale darkness of this warm summer night with their friendly, beckoning light. Annabelle found his hand, squeezing it gently, and, as he turned to her, he saw her eyes glisten with the same fire of excitement that burned in his soul.
***
The island was alive with songs, dance, and laughter, as their little group moored to its shore. The tables were set up with beer and caraway cheese � the traditional food of the holiday � among other meals.
The newcomers were greeted with joyful shouts, and, before either one of the Californian guests had time to collect themselves, they were already being dragged toward the tables into the middle of this noisy company.
�Diego! Annabelle!� a familiar voice came to them across the general clamor, shouting their names in the melodious Latvian manner.
�Matiss!� the young don waved enthusiastically to the skinny, straw-haired man who made his way to them through the crowd. Matiss was one of the sailors aboard the Murometz, and it was certainly a relief for the Californianos to see another familiar face (and to have an additional interpreter).
The sailor saluted promptly to Voloshin, and, nodding a greeting to Anastasiya Petrovna and Annabelle, clapped Diego soundly on the back. �Welcome! Welcome to the night of wonders, my friends!� Matiss� face spread in a wide, good-natured smile. Annabelle glanced at Diego, who visibly flinched from such an enthusiastic expression of benevolence on the part of the sailor, and burst out laughing, not being able to hold back even after the mockingly furious look her husband gave her.