The Wild Fields

by Purple Hazel

  “Lyev” was everything Tatyana could have wanted. To be sure if she ever had any previous conceptions of what her Knight in Shining Armor might look like, this young “man” sitting there in her tavern dining hall was most certainly it. Ludmilla didn’t look like much at the time: half frozen and shivering as the snow and ice melted off her locks of hair and heavy wool coat. But Tatyana knew she’d learned enough about “Lyev” to realize he was indeed someone truly special. A simple farmer’s son from the countryside maybe? Perhaps a possible escape from the predicament she was so deeply mired in? Maybe “Lyev” would be the one she’d been hoping for to come sweep her off her feet.

  Then again, maybe “he” would be nothing more than a temporary fling, or an occasional handsome visitor she could enjoy the company of after harvest season each year. Or maybe “Lyev” could be the handsome suitor whom Father would cotton to and allow her to finally be courted by. All these were possibilities now racing through her mind.

  She hurried upstairs to prepare Ludmilla’s room and pour a bath…then happily scurried downstairs some time later to fetch her. A joyfulness surged through her like she hadn’t felt before. Not ever. It was a womanly emotion, too. Not a mere fanciful giddiness of a young girl hurrying to a birthday party or about to receive a special Christmas gift. No, it was much more complicated than that. It was physical this time. It was making her feel like a real woman! Not just needed. Not just desired. Not just appreciated. Not just understood. But indeed all of those things rolled into one…and perhaps one thing more: validation of who she was as a person.

  Chapter 4

  Hesitation

  Ludmilla continued to shiver miserably from the cold that still permeated her body. As the heat from the nearby fire melted the snow from her clothes and left her soaked to the skin, she was like an alley cat who’d accidentally fallen off a drainpipe into a barrel full of water.

  But she was grinning from ear-to-ear nevertheless. Tatyana was everything she could have imagined—and more. Beautiful. Stunning. Yet the pretty girl could not possibly be any more friendly. Ludmilla was amazed at what she’d learned about the gorgeous teenager. Same age practically. Never had a boyfriend. Worked her whole life there in that musty-smelling inn with not a woman’s touch to be seen anywhere. Too busy serving and waiting on customers to ever give the place a good cleaning was the reason most likely. Had to be. Chairs were wobbly and rickety. The bench she sat on was badly in need of repair. And the table she sat in front of? It looked like it hadn’t seen more than a wet dish towel since the last time some old drunk puked on it.

  Such standards, Ludmilla knew, would never have been acceptable to Tatyana’s deceased mother Taisia. Couldn’t be. However, this observation only served to give Ludmilla a clever idea that she shoved into the back of her mind for the time being: maybe, just maybe—come spring time after planting season—Ludmilla could get a job working there for her father Bogdan. What could be better? she mused.

  Yes, the first task was clearly to get near her and stay near for as long as possible. Today, after all, there were no suitors beating down the door of the tavern trying to court the gal. No one was—at least as of yet—coming to her father asking for her hand in marriage. But tomorrow, who could tell? Anything could happen!

  “Tatyana is a beautiful girl; and other men will want her, that is undeniable,” she muttered to herself. Some handsome soldier marching through town with the Russian army next spring? Maybe someone like that would steal her heart. Or perhaps some wealthy merchantman traveling through the area—cart full of fabulous dresses and all the while spinning tales about far off lands they could go visit together? Ludmilla could picture so many possibilities. Her calculating mind was abuzz with so many ideas that seemed to fly around in her head like gnats. Ludmilla knew better than to chance it. Sure; in the dead of winter, with the tavern hosting only two guests at the time, there wasn’t much in the way of viable prospects to waltz in and steal Tatyana’s heart this time of year. But come springtime? “Oh, yes, there’ll be many young men coming through town,” she continued, “I’ll have stiff competition.”

  Ludmilla knew she’d have to return and soon; once she got the crops sown and the fields irrigated. Father would take it from there for a month or so until she could get back and irrigate the fields—if it stayed dry for too many weeks. Otherwise she could very well stay in Belgorod the whole summer if she wished—at least until harvest time! So Ludmilla devised her plan and it was a good one at that. Of course, her money hadn’t run out quite yet; and she certainly could stay at least one more day. A lot could be accomplished in a day after all.

  But while Ludmilla plotted her clever scheme, and while Tatyana was still upstairs getting her bath ready, Ludmilla was suddenly surprised to find someone else taking an interest in her. Quite unexpectedly, the old man sitting down at the end of the table decided to slide down the bench toward Ludmilla and share his vodka with her! It caught her off guard at first, when she suddenly noticed him smiling and scooting toward her. For the life of her she didn’t know what he might want.

  The old man was quite fancifully dressed and despite being weathered from prolonged exposure to the sun and the harsh winds of the Russian steppe, he moved like a man of much younger years. The man sidled up and planted his backside straight across from Ludmilla, grinning warmly and gesturing with his hands as if to say, “may I join you?” Ludmilla looked up at him blankly, still wincing from occasional shivers, then nodded that it was fine. He gave out a big sigh as he relaxed in his new seat location, dragging with him a bottle of vodka and pair of wooden cups.

  “Dobriy vyecher,” he said, “my name is Boris Valentin Yudashkin…and I am from Moscow.” Then he smiled brightly, extending his hand in a kindly greeting.

  Moscow? Wow, thought Ludmilla. She’d never met anyone from there. That was the capital of Russia—had been since 1340, when the city began to spring up around the original wooden Kremlin (citadel) located next to the Moskva River. But as far as Ludmilla was concerned, it was as far away and mysterious as the moon in the sky. She grasped his hand in response and shivered, “L-l-l-yev. C-c-call me Lyev.”

  Moscow was a big city now; having expanded over the past two centuries in several building phases, each separated from one another by massive walls or defense works. There was good reason for it, too. For example the Kremlin was destroyed by the Mongols in 1237, then rebuilt in all oak timbers in 1339. Fearing further invasions, between 1366 and 1368, the oak walls were replaced with white limestone. Construction of churches and palaces soon began within the protected area (for example the Annunciation Cathedral was finished there in 1406); and the strong Kremlin walls were gradually improved and fortified between 1485 and 1495, utilizing architects from Italy. The famous Ivan the Great Bell Tower was erected there in 1508.

  The Kremlin was also residence to the current Tsar Ivan IV, known to history as Ivan the Terrible, and it was Ivan himself who decreed that no structures should be built within close proximity of its walls. The old citadel was separated from the walled merchant town by a 90-foot wide moat, making the Kremlin itself practically impregnable. The city outside was eventually encircled by the Kitaigorod (walled town), which was built between 1536 and 1539. The Kitaigorod defense network featured thirteen towers, six gates, and was quite formidable indeed. Its walls were over twelve feet thick at the base—filled in with earth to stabilize them from the impact of siege weapons—and the walls themselves stood about thirty feet high, including well-protected gun ports every ten to fifteen feet or so right below the ramparts. This Kitaigorod would be followed by the expansion of the Bielygorod (or white town), and the Zemlyanoygorod (earthworks town) as the city continued to swell in population. Indeed, it was a thriving metropolis, known the world over. By the mid-sixteenth century, the city numbered around 200,000 people.

  “Ah!” exclaimed Boris, “kak pazhivayesh, Lyev? Cold journey this morning was it, I see eh?” Then he laughed. Lumilla smirked as yet another chunk of
melted snow could be heard falling off her winter coat and splatting on the floor below. “Well then, thanks for letting me join you for a while. Spasiba. I could certainly use the company this time of year. Not too many travelers about, you know?” To this Ludmilla blushed and nodded. True, few would ever brave the winter snows of southern Russia if they had even a lick of sense.

  Boris then went on to tell her that he’d been stuck there for nearly a month waiting on the weather to turn. “Too old to travel in the snow, I’m afraid. Haven’t been able to leave in weeks.” Next he told her a little about himself. Turned out he was a merchant.

  “I’ve travelled all over Muscovy my boy, visiting towns much like this,” he said. “Been far and wide. Kiev, Chernigov, Voronezh, Tula, Novgorod—you name it. Sold dresses and bolts of cloth. Sold wine. Sold pots and pans. Sold blankets and robes…vodka, too. In fact, at one time or another I doubt there’s much I haven’t bought or sold.”

  Ludmilla found him to be quite entertaining, yet she was confused. “Wait,” she began, “How do you mean you bought things and sold things in all these towns and cities? Ya nee paneemayoo.” Ludmilla was still shivering occasionally as she spoke. The man laughed and said, “Ah, I will explain for you. You’re a, uh…a farmer, no?” Ludmilla nodded suspiciously, as if the man might be implying he thought her to be ignorant. “And your farm is uh, quite a ways from the city, right?” he asked. She nodded again blankly, with an eye cocked slightly just to send him a little warning not to insult her—if he knew what was good for him. He was not, however. Boris was merely clarifying this in a polite way so that he knew how to explain it to her in layman’s terms.

  The old man rose from the bench and went over to his previous seat where he produced an old bag of clothing that was very large and made of care-worn leather. From it he produced a big bear-skin robe. It was shiny and black, though a bit dusty when he yanked it out and shook it. “Here, my friend, try this on…and while you’re at it—if you don’t want to catch your death of cold—please get out of those wet clothes. That’s what’s making you shiver, you see?” chuckled Boris Valentin. Ludmilla strained her body to stand up from the bench, and when she grimaced, the man poured her a small cup of vodka from his bottle.

  “And here, my friend, drink this. It’ll warm your insides!” he suggested, offering the little cup to her. Ludmilla looked at it and snickered, then stripped off her soaking wet coat and slipped out of her wet boots.

  Her shirt and pants, Boris also urged her to remove, and she eyed him sheepishly at this suggestion. Take off all her clothes? Here? However, he gradually talked her into it. “All of it, my boy…you need to dry yourself. Don’t worry. The robe will warm you right up I assure you…and if that doesn’t do the trick, we’ll finish this bottle together before that pretty girl returns from pouring your bath upstairs,” he snickered convincingly. Ludmilla was quite sure he was right. She’d been sitting there freezing for so long only because she was not at home where she could have stripped out of her cold wet clothes and warmed her bare bottom by the fire. But now that Tatyana was gone from the dining hall for a while, it immediately made sense. Only problem was, there was a strange man sitting there looking at her!

  “Okay, Boris. But you’ll have to turn your back,” replied Ludmilla with an embarrassed grin. Boris then laughed uproariously and spun around to face the other wall, saying “Ya paneemayoo, fermer mal’chik…I’ll turn ’round…since you insist on being so modest.” Then he laughed some more.

  Ludmilla liked him already—knew he was just a nice old man who had plenty of stories to tell no doubt, and plenty of time to do so if he found a willing ear. She quickly stripped out of her rubakha, which hung down to her knees and tied off at the waist with a cord. It had been soaked in sweat which had turned to frost when her body got colder and colder during the last mile or two of walking next to her horse to Belgorod. Her pants, or gachy as Russian peasants called them, had been tucked into her boots, and they were still caked with snow in some places. This whole ensemble had been Vladimyr’s at one time or another. Likely he was much bigger now…but he’d been gone over two years and this outfit barely fit the more muscular Ludmilla.

  Now totally naked, Ludmilla rubbed her cold wet backside before the fire while Boris remained facing the other direction. It was good feeling the warmth against her skin as she downed the first cup of vodka. Once she put on that bearskin robe that Boris had set for her on the table, she immediately felt better. She donned the robe and propped her bare feet up on the hearth facing toward the enormous fire place. Boris then came around the table and refilled her cup of vodka before sitting next to her by the fire.

  “Here my boy,” chuckled Boris Valentin, “Have one more. Don’t worry, I’ve got a whole case of this in my wagon.” Ludmilla grasped the little cup again and drank it down, wincing at the burning sensation in her esophagus. It even made her slur a bit when she thanked him: “Spasibo…Za zdorovje!”

  Boris settled back into his seat on the bench next to Ludmilla, relaxing against the table behind him, and proceeded to explain everything to her…all about the basics of barter and trade. All about buying low and selling high; finding where demand exceeds supply. He started right from the very foundations of merchant trading, even gave her a little history using farming and commodity simulations.

  “The trick is to find where supply is plentiful and negotiate a fair price. Sell it somewhere else where supply is low,” he explained. She of course listened intently. It was the way she did things after all. Always possessing a mind for learning how things worked and memorizing the details of their operation, construction, or procedure, Ludmilla’s brain craved and absorbed new information like a sponge. It came naturally.

  “Take this vodka for instance,” said Boris, slurring a bit as well, “I buy it where it’s in great supply. I then sell it in small villages or towns where it is in great demand, like Belgorod.” He told her about buying furs in villages northwest of Moscow near the Khimki Forest, then selling them at markets in big cities like Chernigov and Novgorod. “This one you’re wearing for example—I found it for sale in a small village market just this past summer and figured I’d eventually find someone it might fit.” Ludmilla grinned and nuzzled herself deep into the bearskin robe he was referring to…so that the lapels covered her face. Then she sneezed from the dust still accumulated on it; and this made Boris laugh some more. He offered her some more vodka, but Ludmilla politely declined. “Thanks, but no. Gotta go see about a girl pretty soon.” God, how it felt so strange saying that. Ludmilla had been living like a man for so long…now it seemed ironic to say something she would have assumed a man might say!

  “Ah, yes, my friend, she is so very beautiful. I listened in on your conversation with her, you know? No husband…working for her father…alone…no mother around,” said Boris in a low but meticulous voice. Then he smiled at Ludmilla who only stared at the fire and stretched out her rapidly warming bare feet now propped up on the hearth. “And you know what else?” added Boris, “I’d be willing to bet that in a flash…if you posed the question…she’d follow you right back to your farm, my friend.”

  Ludmilla glared at him with intense interest for a moment. Boris only smiled and nodded in a wise, fatherly sort of way…like an old man giving sage advice or a clever tip on how to solve something. “She likes you, I can tell. Trust old Boris on this one, my boy. I’m sure of it.” Ludmilla knew that he was right—that she was quickly winning the girl over—but it never hurts to have someone point out when you’re succeeding at something. She thanked him for the encouraging words. “Thanks Boris. Perhaps you’ll be right someday.” They then sat quietly, watching the fire.

  After a little while, Tatyana returned, bounding down the stairs and giddy with happiness. She scurried up to where Ludmilla was sitting with Boris and proclaimed with a smile, “Sir, your room is ready.” Ludmilla looked up at her and grinned with only a slight tremor still visible in her face. Tatyana noticed she was looking
far better than before. She then looked down to see that Ludmilla’s clothes were now piled up on the floor right where she’d stripped them off!

  Wow, thought Tatyana to herself…It must mean that this robe he is wearing—that must be all he has on! She blushed a bit. “Um…these clothes…shall I wash them for you?” she asked. Ludmilla looked up, suddenly feeling the effects of the vodka, and formed words in her head for a very clear and precise answer. However, the vodka unfortunately had really hit her by now and all she could muster was, “Psssht…Da!” That was plenty for Tatyana. She went over to scoop them up while Ludmilla tried forming more sentences. Alas the mouth simply wasn’t on board with it quite yet.

  None of this phased Tatyana, of course, who’d certainly been around drunk men before. Instead she helped Ludmilla stand up so she could walk upstairs and thankfully—especially for Ludmilla’s sake—the cold floor woke her right up. It took only a moment or two standing in a puddle of melted snow and she was shaking off the vodka effects rather quickly! Boris for his part chuckled throughout as the young couple made their way over to the stairs, with Ludmilla waving good night and choosing words that didn’t have too many consonants. “Dobroy nochi…Borissssh,” she hollered back at him. That was about all she could muster, as she wobbled a bit and shuffle-stepped, then with a mighty grip on the rickety bannister began to follow the lovely barmaid’s shapely bottom up the staircase.

  The rush of adrenaline coursed through her veins, and after about ten stairsteps she was getting things together. Thus, when the top stair was achieved, Ludmilla was fully cognizant. Tatyana ascended the top step and turned to await her, then grinned a very understanding grin, realizing the poor young “man” had been through quite an ordeal already that day and frankly seemed to be doing rather well, all things considered. Boris had done a great job of relaxing her and getting the shiver-shakes quelled. Whatever the warm fire had not accomplished, the vodka…and the furry black bearskin robe…had done the rest. Unfortunately now came the hiccups! And those only made pretty Tatyana giggle joyously as they made their way down the hall.