by Purple Hazel
Still, she knew she’d better get back to him and make sure he was eating well. Father often forgot to eat at all; preferring to drink ale and stare out the frosty windows of their farmhouse. Maybe he was thinking about Mother. Maybe he was missing Vladimyr. Ludmilla could never really tell. She only loved him, and knew she was all he had left in the world. Her brothers likely weren’t ever coming back and she didn't want to be the next sibling to abandon him.
“Tatyana is washing your clothes for you now,” added Bogdan, “Then you can go to market with her. I’ve got a little cart out back for the bread. Suit looks good on you, by the way.” Then he smiled warmly, glancing at her new clothes. Ludmilla chuckled, and said, “It fits well, too. Bol’shoye spasibo!” Bogdan only laughed and added, “Well then it’s yours. The previous owner won’t be coming back soon I’m sure. Happens all the time around here.” Ludmilla raised her eyebrows and nodded, figuring there was a good story behind this. Maybe someday she’d find out; but for now she felt so incredibly comfortable sitting there in that kitchen with Bogdan while he worked away on his bread. Clearly Tatyana’s father had decided Ludmilla was “good people” and that made her feel confident in herself. Ludmilla couldn’t wait to prove to him just how right he was.
Tatyana came into the kitchen shortly after that, smiling as warmly and brightly as the morning sun, and proceeded to tell her father, “Ah, so I see you’ve met our new guest. Dobroyo utro, Lyev!” Bogdan bent down for her to kiss his cheek like a loving daughter always does, and when she did so she got flour specks on her nose and chin. She didn’t bother wiping it off. It seemed to Ludmilla this was their customary greeting; but it was all the more inspiring. Ludmilla loved seeing the two being so affectionate. “The washing is done,” she then said happily, “drying on the clothesline in the alley,” and as she said this, she pointed with a thumb over her shoulder. “Good girl,” he replied proudly, then returned to his ball of dough.
With her own father, affection was rarely expressed in this way, since back home Ludmilla was just another son to him. Sons didn’t do that sort of thing, therefore neither did Ludmilla. It was something she’d missed growing up. But soon the two teenagers were packing up a cartload of bread, and Ludmilla was donning her bearskin robe and shapka to go out to the market in town. They filled up a little pull-cart with twenty loaves of bread or so, then Ludmilla effortlessly pulled it through the drifts of snow piled next to the outside wall of the tavern. In no time at all, they were heading into the town square where the central marketplace was located. It was a lovely morning. Ludmilla found herself quickly taking in the sights and sounds of the city.
Along the way, Tatyana told Ludmilla, “I take this bread to trade for vegetables every day in the market, you know? It’s how I get the ingredients for Father to make our Borsch. In the winter, vegetables are a little scarce, so I must have a lot of bread to trade for what we need. In the summer it’s not much different really, ’cause we have to feed so many more customers. Tonight we may have twenty…maybe only two. It’s hard to say. But we have to feed and serve them all if they come, you see?”
“And all you’re trading today is bread? Doesn’t your father also make ale?” asked Ludmilla. Tatyana nodded. “Yes, in the summer we have lots of ale, too, once we get barley. In the winter, we mostly get wheat, and not much of it when the winters are harsh. Father has vodka now, thanks to good old Boris.” Then she grinned. Ludmilla snickered right along with her cheery sarcasm. That had been her first experience with vodka and she figured it would likely be her last time drinking it for a while. However, it gave her a bright idea. The night before, Boris had told her about trading in vodka; and that it could be acquired in great quantities up north in Moscow. Seemed like a good time to bring it up.
“You know Tatyana,” Ludmilla interjected, “…if we can only get wheat in winter…how about we make our own vodka for the tavern, and that might only require some equipment to distill it, I’ve heard. We could even use beets if we need to! Maybe by next winter we can get the things we need and produce it.” Tatyana grinned, and stopped for a moment as they were walking. “WE?” she inquired in a mockingly suspicious tone.
Ludmilla gulped. She was tipping her hand; and it might cost her dearly if she did so before Tatyana was ready. In reply she said, “I…uh…I mean you and Bogdan, your father, sorry.” Tatyana sighed and looked at Ludmilla humorously. Then she smiled. “Well you know Lyev, Father could certainly use some help around the place, now that you mentioned it. A bright young man like you with inventive ideas…and a knack for building things…might be just what he needs. I’ll tell him about your idea.” Ludmilla had no argument for that…after all if the pretty gal was offering to pitch her idea for her then that was half the battle.
“That would be fine, Tatyana. And uh, come April, when I get my crops planted, maybe he’d like having me around for a couple months or so. Help him build the still. If he’s already making ale, he’s probably got most of what we need to produce gallons of it.” Tatyana smiled broadly and embraced one of Ludmilla’s big arms. “Oh, yes, that would be wonderful, Lyev! I’ll ask him!”
And that’s where they left it. From then on, they enjoyed the day together and did a bang-up job at the market trading bread for winter vegetables like beets, onions, garlic, turnips, and cabbage. They even found a nice young hen to trade for.
“These will make for a wonderful Borsch tonight, Lyev. Let’s get back to the inn and show Father how we did!” said Tatyana when she’d unloaded the last few loaves of bread. Tatyana was quite pleased; and she was quite proud to show off “Lyev” to her friends around town as well. And those little old ladies at the market? They picked up on it quite easily that she had a new man in her life by the way they interacted with each other. That said, no one embarrassed her with blunt questions she might not be ready for like “…and who is this? Is this your betrothed?” or anything stupid like that. They merely eyed the “young man” pulling her bread cart. Then they’d smile knowingly whenever she coyly introduced Lyev as, “my helper today.”
Ludmilla enjoyed the reaction she got—from both passersby on the street as well as the old crows at the market. Most of them were about the age her mother would have been right now, and many recognized her vaguely from past visits. Only a few knew her father and knew of her many brothers anyway, and for all they knew she was just another son going to market for the family farm. But that got her thinking. As far as Ludmilla could tell, anyone who’d ever known she was in fact female was by now long dead. That or they had gone off to war. Only she and her father now knew the truth. That thought ran through her mind repeatedly during the day.
As the two teenagers finished their shopping, they then decided against returning immediately to the tavern, opting instead for a little tour of the city. It was quite cold, but the sun was out and likely would shine bright and beautiful for another hour or so, Ludmilla could tell. That was something any farmer got rather good at over time…sensing upcoming weather changes or knowing if the sky was about to cloud up and snow or rain. It was a necessary skill she’d developed over time.
* * * *
Belgorod was a bustling city even in winter, and it was named as such for the nearby landscape being so rich in limestone. The name literally means “white town” as a reference to the whitish stone that was used as building material there. Many buildings utilized it in their construction, including the massive fortress protecting it from the hill overlooking the town. The city of Belgorod was already a very old trading center by the time Ludmilla and Tatyana were strolling through its historical streets and touring its battlements.
The first ever historical record of the town’s existence was when it had been sacked and burned by the Mongol Khan Batu in 1237. Of course, since then, it had been re-erected and fortified with an earthen wall outside the town to keep out subsequent Tatar raids that occurred almost every summer. The city was originally located on the south bank of the Dniester; likely founded in the Sixth
Century B.C. by colonists from the Greek city of Miletus. It was a great location for a port and it became one of the region’s most important business centers with year-round trade routes connecting Eastern and Western Europe. The Silk Way passed right through Belgorod, connecting the city with Persia. These routes were commonly referred to by locals as the Belgorod Way.
The stone fortress constructed on the heights there originally dated back to the fifteenth century when the town was still called Chetatya-Alba. Even then the city claimed twenty thousand residents. It was quite formidable indeed, with three sides surrounded by a protective moat. The castle at the top stood on an impregnable cliff overlooking the Dniester. The only realistic way to get to it by an attacking enemy was through the outer fortress walls.
But that would be a tall order indeed! Walls surrounding the Belgorod fortress extended for nearly two miles, and stood over thirty feet high. Thirty-four towers were built into it too; and the wall complex was made of gleaming white limestone; hence the town’s old nickname White Town.
* * * *
Ludmilla and Tatyana visited the already very old Armenian Church in town, the Church of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. They even toured the old cemetery and, of course, visited Belgorod fortress. Ludmilla made sure they got to see it; and observed how safe it felt being inside. If the Tatars ever attacked the town; she was certain this was where they needed to go. The fortress was enormous: double-walled, twelve feet thick. Sure, the town outside was quite well defended from small raids with its earthen defense wall; but if the Tatars could get past that and make it to these inner defenses; they’d face a tough go attempting any kind of frontal assault. The fortress was shaped like a polygon and its summit held the castle keep which Ludmilla and Tatyana could not enter, but because of its location on the heights of the town they could see it quite easily.
Truth be told, Ludmilla figured it was a pretty good idea being seen with Tatyana in as many places as possible, just to send the message that she had a “man” now and might be off-limits. To that end, she encouraged Tatyana to introduce her to most anyone she recognized. If Tatyana waved to or acknowledged someone…or if any in the town or in the fortress hailed her; Ludmilla urged her to introduce them. After a while Tatyana did it automatically and by the end of the day they’d met and chatted with easily fifty different people who knew the young gal.
Perfect, thought Ludmilla. It was good for everyone in the town to know. That’s how Ludmilla looked at it anyway, even if she needn’t worry about such a thing, because Tatyana already knew in her heart she’d found herself a real “keeper,” and was frankly quite proud to show “him” off around the town.
“Khoroshego dnya!” someone yelled from the fortress ramparts as they walked through the inner gate. It was one of the town guards who patrolled the city at night and watched the approaches to the city looking for Tatars. This was their slow season, and they now had lots of time to chat with people of the town. Tatyana waved at them from below as they walked along.
“Da! Khoroshego dnya Vadim!” she yelled back at him. He gave a big wave of his arm and called down to her. “Out taking a stroll with your friend, I see!” he yelled. “How’s your father, eh? Does he know you’re out and about today? I hope so!”
Tatyana giggled and nodded. “Da, moy drug! He knows. This is Lyev, one of our guests. He might be coming to work for us come springtime! Will we be seeing you tonight?” To this the man nodded and laughed. “Konechno!” he bellowed. Then a few other guards recognized her from a nearby tower. “Khoroshego dnya Tatyana!” they called out. “Prekrasnyy den’! See you at the tavern tonight, girl!” Tatyana smiled and waved back to them. “Da! We’ll be expecting you as always! Stay warm up there!”
Tatyana never had childhood friends—never knew a neighborhood child or a group of kids she could play with. Six days a week she worked at the inn, and there was no time for anything else. Most importantly, she never had anyone to talk to either; not after Mother had died. But this “boy” Lyev wasn’t just handsome. He seemed so interested in her thoughts and opinions. She could chatter on and on about most anything that crossed her mind and he seemed to listen intently, just like the night before or perhaps even more so now that they had an entire afternoon together.
No, “Lyev” didn’t seem to mind at all listening to her charming chatter. Ludmilla snickered whenever Tatyana lowered her voice and told the latest gossip about people in the town. Never cut her off or seemed to drift away like Father often would. Quite the contrary, Ludmilla downright enjoyed listening! And for Tatyana it almost felt like she was talking to her mother again, like the way she used to remember her that is. And yet it was not the same. On the contrary, this was (in her eyes anyway) a very handsome young man with good looks, a kind heart, and a remarkably boyish face who seemed to embody everything she'd been needing.
“I hope those ladies at the market weren’t too annoying for you, Lyev,” giggled Tatyana. “I’m sorry you had to stand there and listen to them rattle on and on. They’re such busy-bodies. Seem to know everyone in town and everything about them.” To this Ludmilla interjected, “And whatever they don’t know they simply make up stories about people, eh?” Tatyana nodded in response. “Sometimes I guess. But they don’t mean any harm really. Everyone dies famous in a small town, as they say. It’s just the way they are, those ladies back there. Gets them through the day.” Then she paused and added, “I don’t mind really. They’re kind of like my second family, you know? A lot of them…well, they knew my mother, you see?”
“Oh, yes, I understand,” replied Ludmilla, as they walked down the hill from the fortress. “As you say, it gets them through the day. And I can tell how much they love you…like a daughter. Makes sense. Me, I hardly remember my own mother. Just little memories here and there. And then she was gone. Like I told you last night, it was only me and my older brothers growing up. And Father, of course, that’s all I had.”
“Well, I must say,” observed Tatyana, “you sure seem to understand women a lot better than most. You’re so patient. And yet you had no mother around to help raise you.” In response, Ludmilla could only shrug her shoulders and grin. “It’s not that difficult, really. Not for me, anyway.”
When they finally returned to the inn, Ludmilla was quite famished as it turned out, and when Tatyana unloaded their basket of fresh vegetables for the daily pot of Borsch, Ludmilla couldn’t wait to partake. Ludmilla carried in the basket of fresh vegetables, while Tatyana glowed with pride describing to Bogdan the day’s transactions. All the bread had been traded, and they’d brought back quite a nice batch of ingredients for the stew! Ludmilla set it on the now flour-streaked kitchen table, and while Tatyana described the beets and onions and cabbages and turnips they’d acquired; Ludmilla reached into the basket and pulled out the fresh hen they’d also traded for at the market, saying, “And this we can render into a nice broth. Look how plump she is, eh?”
Bogdan laughed and grabbed the chicken from Ludmilla’s hands. He was both surprised and delighted. “Ah, good job Lyev! This will do quite nicely, yes!” Then to his further delight, Ludmilla proceeded to jump right in and help with the day’s meal. She first offered to pluck the chicken and get it ready for the pot, and that impressed Bogdan immediately, but what he noticed over and over again that afternoon as the trio began working together in the kitchen, was how Ludmilla automatically started cleaning things and putting things away. Helping out everywhere she could, and usually not even being asked to do so—Ludmilla was doing it before Bogdan could request it; and seemed to anticipate things before Bogdan even thought of them.
When the fire was started in the huge kitchen fireplace; and the pot filled with water for the broth, Ludmilla was already done with the chicken, having stripped it of its feathers and ready to add to the dish. Wow, was she fast, too! Then she grabbed a knife and began sharpening it on a whetstone to begin cleaning and chopping vegetables. No one asked her either!
She went from
task to task, with Bogdan constantly amazed at her efficiency and speed. He’d find himself thinking of an ingredient and just about to ask, “Do we have any dill or sage?” only to find Ludmilla pulling it out of the basket or placing it on the table for him to add to the soup before he could speak the words. Didn’t need to. Somehow she knew he was about to ask for it! Or at least that’s what it seemed like. “Bright kid this one,” he mused to himself.
And because of the assistance, the soup was finished and simmering nicely in less than two hours. But that’s not what Bogdan appreciated the most. He especially liked how his daughter interacted with the “fermer mal’chik” as he called him. It gave him a measure of joy to see his daughter had found a boy she really liked and felt so comfortable around. Any father wants to see that…see his daughter treated so well by a young man who might someday turn into a husband and take good care of her. Lyev was certainly someone he could see doing that.
Bogdan saw it in everything the young “man” did; and in the way “he” spoke to Tatyana. When they did something together, such as washing and peeling vegetables, they worked as a team and chatted constantly throughout. Lyev seemed to really listen to what she said, and seemed so very comfortable with her rambling anecdotes about people in the town: what they had done, who they were married to, and the latest gossip about them. Amazingly…it didn’t annoy the youngster at all!
Bogdan noticed things like that, and it began to sink in with him that Tatyana had needed this—a friend and a companion—for so very, very long. He watched them laughing with each other, gabbing back and forth about their day, rattling on and on about who they met and what they saw. It almost sounded like two housewives chatting in a kitchen while they were preparing the family’s evening meal! Bogdan would be included in the conversation occasionally, of course, but mostly he focused on getting the kitchen ready to serve guests that night, so he ignored a lot of what the two were bantering about. But nevertheless, he was filled with joy in seeing his daughter so very happy. “They’d make a fine couple,” he said to himself.