The Wild Fields

by Purple Hazel

  However, it was during one of those many trips into the fortified city of Belgorod that she first saw Tatyana. And that moment would change her life forever.

  * * * *

  On a sunny August morning, in the latter part of the month, right after her seventeenth birthday, Ludmilla packed up the family wagon and secured it to their lone draft horse. It was well into the campaigning season of 1570, and the latest threats to peace had been quelled by the gallant Russian army. Ever since Vladimyr and his comrades completed the Zasechnaya Cherta four years prior; and after Tsar Ivan IV himself visited to spend a month inspecting the new forts anchoring it at Kozelsk, Belyov, Bolkhov, and Aleksin, Tatar activity had been reduced to small lightning quick raids across the southern border. They’d hit fast, gather a few prisoners, then scurry back across the border to the relative safety of the Wild Fields.

  But the Tatar threat was growing nevertheless. In 1569 Khan Devlet Giray had joined up with Turkish forces in an unsuccessful attempt to take Astrakhan. In the spring of 1570, a much larger force this time—50,000 men in total—slipped by Russian defenses and devastated the area around Ryazan and Kashira far to the east.

  However, by autumn, a mere 6700 Nogais Tatars were left fighting in and around the area. The 1570 campaign had effectively fizzled out by then. This news convinced Ludmilla it was safe to finally try and make it into Belgorod to trade; and though no Tatars were reported in the immediate area anymore, Ludmilla was extremely relieved to be safely inside the city walls when she finally completed the journey by mid-morning. She knew she'd need to get her business done there fast and get right back to Father's farm…knew she still had the three-hour ride back to contend with.

  While walking through town though, right after arriving at the main gate, that’s when Ludmilla saw her. She was an incredibly gorgeous brunette barely five feet tall with hazel eyes and a voluptuous figure. Such an incredible sight! They made eye contact for only a moment, but that’s when it struck Ludmilla like something out of the clear blue sky…like a bolt of lightning. She’d never seen such a vision of beauty in her entire life! The girl’s face…it was like a painting of cherubs on the walls of some Russian Orthodox Church. Her body was that of a Greek goddess. The girl was so bubbly and effervescent, too! People were greeting her and hailing her as she passed by as though everyone in town knew the girl personally!

  Their eyes met—and only for a second—then it was over. Just like that—then the girl passed right by her. But whereas the pretty girl smiled sweetly then turned her eyes back to where she was going and daintily sauntered off carrying a basket of fresh vegetables she’d probably purchased from the local market; Ludmilla simply stood there frozen in her tracks and stared after the girl with mouth wide open like she’d just seen an angel from heaven. Maybe she had!

  Now…to be fair, Ludmilla had rarely even seen another girl in her life besides her own mother, and she barely remembered that. Yet Ludmilla was captivated by the girl; and quite honestly didn’t even know why. She sensed incredible feelings like she’d never experienced before; and it was not long after completing her trading visit that she began to realize: these feelings weren’t going away any time soon either! And it didn’t matter if they made sense or not. They were most certainly real.

  It was a fascinating sensation, this sudden pain and longing Ludmilla felt in her heart. It haunted her like a ghost; and stimulated her like prickling pine needles all the way home, while walking alongside her horse and the small cart it pulled. It lasted well into the winter, too, as the snows began to fall and things iced over in glistening white…snow drifts collecting on top of most anything that existed above ground and icicles forming from any eve, tree branch, or stalk that could bear their weight. All through December Ludmilla sat in her little farmhouse with Father; who was aging fast and starting to look like he wouldn’t last many more winters. Yet as the first big snow of the year fell…then another, then another…the endless boredom and longing to find that beautiful girl again started smoldering in Ludmilla’s heart.

  It finally brought her to the breaking point and she realized: she needed somehow to get back to Belgorod, whatever it took to get there. Moreover, she needed to do so before the next big snow! Somehow—before the next blizzard—she needed to find that lovely girl again…

  One morning Ludmilla’s cool calculating mind suddenly began to take over where her emotions had left off. She’d endured another restless night. Woke up several times with the girl’s face burned on her brain: the chestnut brown hair, the sparkling eyes, the luscious pink lips. And that smile—that lovely smile—so kind and inviting! Her body was reacting to her yearnings just as much as her mind, and when she crawled out of bed in the morning she was sticky and gooey between her legs…as though she’d masturbated repeatedly in the night. She couldn’t take it any longer. Not one more day. She began preparing immediately for a very dangerous trip through the snowy roads back to Belgorod.

  “It might get me killed,” she muttered to herself, looking out the window that morning at the snowy landscape, and thinking about the journey ahead, “but it’ll surely kill me to spend another night thinking about her!”

  Planning to leave right after the first rays of light illuminated the countryside, she hurriedly packed up blankets and supplies, then started a fire in the kitchen stove to heat the family home and even left out some bread and a pot of porridge for Father to dine on for the next few days. She figured he’d hardly notice her gone if she returned quickly enough. In the winter after all, he slept most of the day and lived much like a hibernating bear. Snored like one, too! With all that taken care of—she was off to Belgorod.

  * * * *

  It was a long, cold, arduous journey; and for a while Ludmilla feared that she may have underestimated the difficulty. The sky turned dark for a while, like it was going to snow again; and if that happened, Ludmilla knew her poor old horse might lose track of the road.

  However, she’d prepared for such a thing, and pulled out a lantern to light their way. Ludmilla had covered both herself and the horse in blankets as well, to prevent accumulating snow from freezing the animal, because she knew full-well what would happen if the horse dropped dead several miles from Belgorod. If it did, she’d have to walk the rest of the way; and slogging through the snow she might lose her way and freeze to death in a snow drift. Almost every spring a frozen body would be found that way: some lonesome traveler having gotten caught out in the open and dying of hypothermia.

  After about eight miserable hours of struggling through the snow, and having to help pull the horse and sledge through deep snow drifts several times along the way, Ludmilla could gradually make out the walls, towers, and ramparts of the fortress commanding the heights. She’d made it finally. Just enough gold in her little leather pouch to pay for a night’s lodging and a small keg of some strong barley ale to trade with if she needed to stay longer.

  That was her plan: get into town and check into the local inn for the night. Then the next day she’d go searching for that beautiful brunette in the town market. That's where she'll be, Ludmilla figured. She must go to the market every day, because when I saw her passing by on the street, she was carrying a basket full of fresh vegetables! She must have just come from there that day when I first saw her.

  The renewed excitement and mystery of what might happen next filled Ludmilla once again with joy. She hadn’t felt this happy since the previous summer when she’d knocked off work one afternoon in the heat of the summer day to strip off her work clothes and swim naked in the little creek near their home. The water had felt so cool and wonderful against her bare skin. No one was around. Father was likely sitting on the front porch, napping. Timing couldn’t have been better!

  Sensing the opportunity to enjoy her solitude to the fullest, she’d then crawled up onto the bank and laid down on a blanket to personally pleasure herself while her body dried in the summer sun, legs spread wide open as she brought herself to a fabulous orgasm. She to
ok her time with it, too. Used both hands. Spread open her labia to expose her clitoris then teased it playfully until it hardened. She rubbed and rubbed until she finally exploded in ecstasy. Napped in the warm sun for a little while as she dried off in the heat, only to realize she’d left her horse untethered! She then spent the better part of a half hour searching for him wearing nothing but her muddy boots. Ludmilla chuckled to herself as she remembered that crazy afternoon running stark naked after the beast. It helped with her tired legs to think about such things while she marched in ankle-deep snow next to her exhausted horse holding his bridle.

  Checking into the local inn, once she’d secured the family horse in the town livery stable next door, Ludmilla was both wearied and frozen stiff. Her legs burned and ached. Her hair was matted and iced to her head. Her big furry shapka practically stuck to the icy hair around its base; so that when she sat down at a long bench seat and the heat of the nearby fire began to thaw out her clothes, she could feel ice dripping off her hat onto her shoulder. She must have looked a sight to the old man sitting down the table from her!

  Ludmilla bent and contorted her body painfully to sit down on the bench, while the innkeeper brought over a mug of ale for her to drink. Then he told her he’d send over his daughter with a hot bowl of Borsch. This, he said, would warm her right up.

  “Welcome!” said the innkeeper. “My do you look frozen. You just get into town, son?” Ludmilla nodded stiffly. “B-b-been t-t-traveling all m-m-morning,” she stammered, teeth chattering and body shivering. The innkeeper shook his head in amazement. So many times he’d seen it before—travelers out on the open road—risking their lives in the dead of winter. Some made it. Many did not.

  “Then have a cup of ale and sit by the fire a while. I’ll send out my daughter with something to warm you up. You’ll need to rest a while anyway. Too cold out there—hmmmph—you stay with us now and thaw out a bit. I’ll go heat up some Borsch for you.”

  Ludmilla nodded again, trying to smile in polite acknowledgment of the big man’s hospitality. Meanwhile, she was already creating a puddle of melting snow all around her. It was falling off her clothes in clumps while she sat and drank her ale, hugging the mug with hands so stiff they could hardly curl around it.

  Then after a few minutes, a young lady of apparently similar age approached her from across the dining hall with a steaming bowl of soup in her hands. Ludmilla pulled off her hat and her hair crackled like a dried leaf. By now she was feeling a tiny bit better; but she was still afflicted from the icy cold and barely even looked up to see the waitress as the girl set the bowl down in front of her. Ludmilla instinctively reached out to grasp the sides of the bowl to warm her hands while the young waitress remarked in a kind sweet voice, “Here we are. Try this. It will warm you up my friend. It’s my mother’s…her special recipe. I hope you like it.”

  Ludmilla then looked up to thank the young lady and to her delighted surprise—almost immediately—she recognized her. It was the girl from the town! Saints be praised…it was her! And what a coincidence, too. The young girl she was so smitten with; the girl who'd inspired her to try and cross 15 miles of frozen countryside—in the dead of winter no less—was in reality the innkeeper’s daughter!

  Her name was Tatyana, and she paused to make eye contact with what appeared to be a very frozen, soaking-wet, clean-shaven young man sitting at the long center table in her father's tavern. “If you need anything else, just ask,” she said, with the same lovely smile Ludmilla remembered from before, “And welcome to my father’s inn, good sir.”

  That’s what Ludmilla looked like to her anyway—a boyish looking farmhand in perhaps his late teens, judging by the clothing, and the odor. Clearly “he” was near or right about her own age, too. Yet she’d never seen this “young man” before. “He” seemed so different. Ludmilla smiled back through her stiff, frozen face. Steam was billowing off her head by now, as the icy snow was melting and evaporating from her wet hair. Tatyana could even see her muttering “it’s you…it’s you” and looking up at her through hollow, frozen eyes which seemed to recognize her like someone she'd known all her life. It fascinated the girl. Tatyana sat down next to Ludmilla on the bench and asked her, “Have we met, boy? My name is Tatyana.”

  “I am c-called…,” began Ludmilla, then shivered some more and began again, “I am c-c-called L-l-l-yev.” Ludmilla smiled as pleasantly as she possibly could with her frozen facial muscles. Tatyana smiled right back for several moments as well. There is definitely something different about this boy, she thought; and it wasn’t just his clean-shaven face—in the dead of winter no less. It was in the young man’s eyes. He seemed to look back at her as though she was some angel from heaven. And in the long moments that the two gazed at each other, the beginnings of a connection started to take root.

  Tatyana even fed Ludmilla some soup, by spooning it into her mouth! Her hands were still too stiff to operate a spoon anyway, and after a few hot mouthfuls of the quite filling dish, she began to come around completely. The two began to talk a bit…began to learn about each other’s lives. Tatyana found Ludmilla to be fascinating.

  Nothing particularly special about her of course, she smelled like a wet dog and looked only slightly less pitiful than one, yet she seemed to listen so well and never lose interest in what Tatyana said. Always had some story of her own to tell, which complemented the flow of the conversation. Never interrupted. She asked Tatyana questions about herself—never seemed to judge. It was just so pleasant being around her! And as the snow and ice continued to melt off Ludmilla's clothing…with the color having returned to her hairless face…Tatyana began to behold what she perceived was an incredibly handsome fellow with a remarkably boyish face. Otherwise she suspected nothing else about Ludmilla's gender. In fact, she was already becoming quite smitten with Ludmilla when she asked, “So, ummm, it is bitter cold outside. It will likely snow some more as well. Would you be staying the night with us then, Lyev?”

  Ludmilla grinned happily, her face beginning to operate normally again. “M-most certainly.” Ludmilla shivered, still shaking off the cold and suffering from her earlier ordeal. Tatyana almost giggled with delight as she grasped Ludmilla’s muscular arm and added, “Then we must get you out of these cold wet clothes and I’ll draw for you a nice hot bath. We have plenty of dry clothes you may wear if you like…men leave things here all the time. Help yourself.” She then giggled a bit more and rose to scurry off and prepare a room. Ludmilla thanked her as she walked away, hardly able to take her eyes off the girl, then returned to choking down the remaining Borsch left in her bowl. It was edible enough, but Ludmilla discovered that splashing a little ale in it made the taste just a wee bit more tolerable!

  Ludmilla heaved a big deep sigh and thought about what had just happened. This was what she'd come for! It had all been worth it. This is why she'd risked her life to trudge through miles of snowy wilderness. This was the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, too! No doubt about it. This was where she was going to return someday and stay, right here in this town until the lovely girl agreed to come back to her farm with her.

  And if that wasn’t possible—if her father wouldn't agree to it or if the girl was promised to someone else, well, then they’d just have to run away together! All those thoughts ran through Ludmilla’s mind while she slurped down the last of the soup.

  Plus one other thing—something important and yet even more relevant to her current situation. Ludmilla realized that she was about to have a bath. A real bath. In a bathtub. For the first time in her entire life. It made her body tingle with excited anticipation. “Hmmph, a bath huh?” she mused out loud. The old man sitting down the long table from her overheard Ludmilla and chuckled while he sipped his ale.

  Chapter 3

  Tatyana

  Whereas Ludmilla grew up in a world of farming, cows, crops, horses, and the occasionally unforgiving extremes of nature, Tatyana had lived the raucous and often wildly exciting life of
an innkeeper’s daughter. It was quite a different life she’d led, but the circumstances of her upbringing were in a way quite similar to Ludmilla’s.

  In September of 1552, an adorable baby girl was born to a young couple living in Belgorod. The husband, a tall lanky Russian named Bogdan Ermolai Krupin, son of the local brewer who opened the tavern some years before, and his wife Taisia Ulyana Kozlov, daughter of a successful goatherder, had taken over the business after the death of Bogdan Ermolai’s father. They named her Tatyana, which means pretty girl…but in Old Russian it also means “she puts others before herself.” The name fit her perfectly in so many ways.

  Tatyana grew up working in her father’s tavern. In fact her earliest memory from childhood was of her mother clapping and encouraging her to dance and sing for a group of patrons at her family’s inn when she was barely four years old. She loved the attention, sure. But it was the joy she brought to others that pleased her the most. She didn’t necessarily crave attention, but she most certainly liked to see people enjoying themselves because of what she had done for them.

  It was a happy life. Always so many interesting experiences as a little girl being surrounded by happy customers, drinking and singing songs right along with her or enjoying Mother’s Borsch. Her early childhood was mostly spent following Mother around, and helping out wherever she could. Plus Father was always proud to give her more and more challenging tasks to perform at the tavern which made her feel important and needed. That’s what she always loved so dearly about Father. He trusted her with things.