by Purple Hazel
However, when she was brought up with the other prisoners, and huddled close with them, by some twist of fate she found herself looking straight across the campfire at the old commander who'd captured her! What’s more he saw her as well—even looked up and grinned at her. “Ah, peasant! You're alive, eh?” the man laughed. He got up from his spot sitting on the ground by the fire and walked over toward her. It distracted Ludmilla for a moment; and yet before Ludmilla could prepare herself, a bucket of cold water was thrown over the group she was standing in. It splashed her face and some of it went right up her nose. She coughed and blinked and choked to compose herself for a few seconds—only to have yet another bucket being thrown at her from a different angle! This unnerved her and caused her temper to flare.
The Scout Commander chuckled and bellowed, “Cooled you off a bit, eh, peasant?” Then he kept on laughing, yelling out something in his native tongue that apparently humored the other Tatars working there. The commander then formed a more serious and menacing look on his face saying, “And did you take good care of my prize—like I told you to, boy? Is the girl still alive?” In response, Ludmilla spit and sneezed out a glob of gooey sinus drainage, still blinking from the shock of cold water in her eyes. But when she recovered herself a bit, that's when she decided to make her move. She knew she’d never get a better chance.
Ludmilla suddenly and with apparently no provocation whatsoever then struck into the midsection of a very large Russian standing next to her. Oh, she'd done a good job of picking the largest one that was for sure! The man was nearly a full head taller than her! But when she hit him, he instinctively doubled over gasping for breath, caught completely by surprise. The prisoners around her pulled back in shock, confused at Ludmilla's sudden act of violence. However the giant farmer was not injured, and when he looked up at Ludmilla with angry eyes and reached out to grab her, Ludmilla realized she'd have to finish him off quickly or he’d rip her apart. “Well, I’ve certainly stepped in a pile of it this time, haven’t I?” she muttered to herself.
Planting her feet solidly for the coup de grace, she took one more big swing with both hands striking upward, clocking the man in the temple right behind his cheekbone. The big man fell to the ground, pressing his bound hands to his cheek as he doubled up in a ball and cowered in the mud. Shocked at the vicious assault he was clearly down for the count—at least for the time being.
The sting of the impact hurt Ludmilla’s hands, but more than anything else she was surprised at how easily she'd felled the big fellow. Everyone was staring at the spectacle, including the Tatar commander. Warriors from nearby campsites yelled and whooped with excitement. Ludmilla by way of comparison remained cool and calm like it was nothing. She merely gave out a small “hmmmph” and then turned to the evil commander, grinning in a surly manner while he glared back at her with a greasy smile. Searching for appropriate words to answer the man's original question, Ludmilla replied sedately, “Yes, my lord, she is quite well.”
Of course by now the commander was still recovering from seeing Ludmilla lay out that big Russian! Nevertheless he was still firmly in charge of the situation since he clearly held the highest rank. He yelled something at his fellow warriors and apparently this was a command to stand down because they froze and looked back at him for further orders. Presently, the evil commander started laughing at Ludmilla's brashness. It started with a mere chuckle or two then within a few moments he was cackling uproariously! It became contagious. Soon the other Tatars around him began chuckling and snickering right along with him. Their laughter grew and grew; even among those working at other campfires! Soon many more were laughing; while the other prisoners stood paralyzed in fear of the evidently quite dangerous Ludmilla! Meanwhile the big farmer wallowed in the mud on the ground, rubbing his cheek, and struggling to his knees, still dazed. This made everyone laugh even harder.
Finally the commander composed himself, still blubbering out giggles as he spoke, but he must have said something important after that, because everyone backed up to let him walk right over to the fire and grab one of the irons. Looking at its red-hot glow for only a brief moment, the commander then gestured for Ludmilla to step forward and kneel. All he said was “Zinhar ocen?” (please?). To this Ludmilla grunted, then obediently walked over to him.
Bending at the waist slightly and reaching over her head to grasp the collar of her shirt, Ludmilla pulled her rubashka over her head while she knelt at the feet of the wicked man. Taking care to roll up the material in a way that she didn't reveal her breasts, she cocked her head to one side and shut her eyes in anticipation of the searing pain. Muttering something that sounded quite ominous the commander then walked around to her side and gently touched the branding iron to her upper arm. It made an earie crackling sound.
Ludmilla winced but didn't yell out or scream. God, how she wanted to! But she held it in. Several warriors gave out an “Oooooh” or an “Aaaaah”—impressed with her courage; and for that matter the commander even chuckled with delight at Ludmilla's resilience. Ludmilla gasped and sighed but remained silent as her arm now throbbed in pain. After an excruciating moment or two of agony, she dipped her head and rolled her rubashka back over her shoulders. The Tatars stood by and awaited their commander's next order. He gave none. All he said to the brave Ludmilla was, “zur unislar telim” (good luck), then he walked away, leaving the rest to continue with the operation.
* * * *
Ludmilla was later returned along with several other branded field hands and assorted other slaves back to their groups. It had now been over an hour that she’d been gone. She kept thinking as she was walking how silly her idea had been. It most assuredly could have failed if it hadn’t been for that evil commander. Punching that big Russian was a very dangerous idea but she'd succeeded in doing so without getting knocked flat on her ass. What’s more she’d succeeded in making those animals think she was actually a man! Her arm hurt incredibly, and the searing burn ached all the way back to the column, but once again she was able to relish in her success at seemingly fooling her captors about her gender. Now she could return to Tatyana and they'd be able to continue their journey on to Caffa.
Oh, how Tatyana would laugh at her story whenever she got back; she just knew it. Ludmilla looked forward to her reaction. It would make the day go by just a tiny bit easier for everyone else, too. Ludmilla pictured the whole thing turning into a hilarious tale that would lighten everyone’s hearts for at least a little while, amidst all the sorrow and sadness of her fellow prisoners’ plight. No telling how much farther and for how many more days they’d have to march before they’d reach their destination.
Surprisingly, though, when she arrived back at her original group of prisoners—everyone was being ordered to stand! Was the prisoner column finally going to be on the move again? Why now? It was mid-afternoon. What could the Tatars be planning?
Ludmilla looked for Tatyana after walking a bit closer—with guards on either side of her. Then from about a hundred yards off she began to notice where her place had been in line—and Tatyana to her dismay was not there! At first Ludmilla figured the prisoners had been shuffled to new spots in line for security reasons, but as she got closer and closer it became clear: Tatyana was gone!
Panicking and scanning about madly for her lover, Ludmilla wanted to cry out for her and listen for her voice; but she knew the guards would knock her to the ground if she attempted something foolish like that. Instead she waited while the guards grabbed a loose tether of line from the long pole holding the prisoners together, and quickly tied it around her neck. Luckily after that, the Tatars scurried away to avoid the flies, so Ludmilla was able to ask one of the other prisoners about Tatyana.
“The girl…where is she…where is the girl I was with? Have you seen her? Did they take her, comrades?” After a few moments a former shopkeeper from one of the towns spoke up. “Yes, my boy, they came and took her away while you were gone,” he told her. Ludmilla sighed deeply. Her heart was
pounding in her chest with anxiety. How would she ever find her lover now? Ludmilla almost felt like crying! If she wasn't so afflicted by the pain in her aching arm where she'd been branded, she might very well have done so.
However, after a few minutes another prisoner, this time a woman not nearly as attractive as Tatyana and well into her late twenties, spoke up in a raised whisper. “They took all the girls, my friend. I saw them…the Tatars went through and picked out the young pretty ones.” Ludmilla clarified in a strained whisper, “Were they taken away to be branded then?” The woman replied, “No, comrade, they were loaded into wagons and driven away, ten or twenty at a time.”
Ludmilla's heart ached and her body felt like it would collapse from the stress. Only the excruciating pain in her arm kept her alert as her legs began to buckle. God only knew what would happen to Tatyana now. Was she being taken back to the Tatar camp? Was she going to be made into some chieftain’s concubine? Ludmilla winced with revulsion at the very thought of something terrible like that! No, it just couldn’t be. Not now. Not after they’d come so far and been through so much together. How could she protect her? Unfortunately it was all in the Lord's hands and there was absolutely nothing Ludmilla could do.
The column of prisoners was driven hard that afternoon—well into the evening. In fact, since the moon was nearly full that night, the Tatars chose to drive the column for quite a while after dark until the prisoners were exhausted. They had two reasons for doing that. For one thing, they needed to move the prisoners out of that area where they'd been sitting for over a day and a half. Disease was always a threat to people in cramped conditions for extended periods of time. But the second reason was for a want of better security. Over 150,000 prisoners, well rested from a full day of sitting in the warm sun healing their tired feet and legs? This could lead to a mass escape attempt. Such a possibility was, of course, rather remote but the Tatars wouldn’t risk it. Frightened masses of people, with no leadership, can often behave irrationally.
Naturally for most prisoners, the thought of making a break for it was absurd. Where would they run? On either side of them was nothing but infinite grasslands and occasional clumps of trees. No forest to hide in. No river to swim across to freedom. No swamps to lose their pursuers in. If they tried to run, the Tatars would chase them down like terrified rabbits. Even if they stole a horse and made a break for it, they'd have no chance. Tatars were some of the best horsemen in the world—and the best horse archers anywhere. They’d be caught.
That's why they marched them so far that night; and when it came time to halt the column, most everyone collapsed right where they stopped (slept right where they sat). Of course, first came the water wagon, though, and Ludmilla suddenly realized she no longer had her lovely Tatyana to lure the water carrier for a drink. She'd have to muscle her way forward from the mass of bound people this time; and if she didn't move fast it would now be her fishing out filthy swill from the bottom of the bucket!
However, the water carrier this time was actually a lovely Russian woman carrying water to them. It was no longer Tatars performing this task. No, it was a rather buxom gal with a wooden yoke across her shoulders and pales of fresh water from some nearby stream. What’s more she had plenty…and it wasn’t already contaminated. To the exhausted and beleaguered prisoners, the woman was like an angel from heaven! Ludmilla began to wonder, Is that what happened to Tatyana, too? Was she now a water-bearer somewhere?
In reality Ludmilla was almost completely right. Indeed, the Tatars had chosen to single out women and girls whom raiding bands had brought back in pristine condition. These were the most valuable of all, so the commanders were quite wise to protect them now that they were safe inside their homelands. It was dangerous leaving them with the main column. People tied together in those sad, long lines of suffering humanity died every day by the hundreds. Making the girls into water carriers and food servers made more sense and it kept them safe from illness and exhaustion. Using over a hundred wagons, the Tatars loaded them with buckets to go fill up at nearby streams or creeks. Scouts would move out ahead of the column to secure clean water sources—then the water wagons would travel there. The girls were certainly not a flight risk; so the drivers had little need for guards.
Each day the water wagons would fetch water and distribute it to thirsty prisoners in the column. Each night, the girls would then sleep in yurts which would be guarded at night until right after dawn when they’d be awakened and start the day all over again fetching water and delivering it to their countrymen. The Tatars knew as they got further and further south, that in the hot autumn afternoons people would start to perish by the thousands if they didn't keep them hydrated.
Ludmilla went to sleep each night imagining that Tatyana was now working on one of those water wagons. Or maybe she was on a food wagon and Ludmilla would be able to see her again soon! It was hard to say. So many wagons and such a long line of prisoners! But each day, starting with the following morning, Ludmilla made it her day-long mission to search for Tatyana. Each time the wagons would pass, she'd look for her. It was frustrating, because for the longest time she could never find her. Until one day…there she was.
One afternoon, a very tired and parched Ludmilla could once again hear the clanking, knocking, and creaking of the water wagon approaching. The column rarely stopped for water by now. They were pushing hard toward Caffa. Water carriers merely came up to them as they marched; and prisoners scooped out water using small wooden cups now tethered to the sides of the buckets. Ludmilla squinted in the harsh sunlight and looked out to see if this time Tatyana would be there. A hundred times it seemed, the wagons would pass. And a hundred times Ludmilla would be disappointed…but this time was different. There, finally, was Tatyana, working up in the wagon, handing down buckets to water carriers who lugged around two on either side of a small wooden yoke borne across their shoulders.
Tatyana was too tiny to carry such a load when full of water, but she was quite strong enough to distribute them one at a time. Ludmilla tried to get her attention by waving, but Tatyana didn't see her. In fact, for a moment Ludmilla thought she was looking right at her, but in reality she was merely keeping track of the water carriers and her inventory of buckets. Ludmilla couldn't blame her for being so businesslike. This was certainly a job Tatyana needed to hold on to; and it occurred to her that Tatyana was better off this way. She realized that Tatyana was truly safe now; and much better off than she was—even if Ludmilla desperately missed holding her at night.
It went on that way for nearly two more agonizing weeks unfortunately. Through mud, rain, broiling heat, and hill after grassy hill, they walked. Nearly a thousand prisoners would drop dead in their tracks every day, even with the bold effort to keep the prisoners hydrated—and only when the Tatars were able to send scouts to Caffa and other ports along the coast, did large shipments arrive with decent food that nourished the emaciated captives. Food gradually became more plentiful, the further south they got. Fresh fruits and vegetables were flung from food wagons and the starving desperate people devoured them, sparing not even a rind or a seed. Morale got better when Ludmilla and others began to notice that the air was changing, too. There was now a slight hint of salt in the air! They were nearing the Black Sea! Ludmilla remarked on this to her suffering cohorts one afternoon when a gust of wind filled her nostrils with sea air.
“Salt, comrades! I smell salt in the air. We're almost there. Keep it together my friends!” she yelled. This started a swell of chatter among the prisoners and, though such behavior was generally forbidden, nearby guards let them have their moment of joy. True, their fates might be far worse than almost any of them could imagine once they got to Caffa, but all that any of them could think about at that moment was finishing their journey.
Finally, after camping in the dark along a hilly path that was leading through the mountains around the port city of Caffa, word spread that they'd be in the town by the following midday. Ludmilla began to relax,
realizing her struggle was almost over and now maybe—just maybe—she'd be able to see Tatyana again. She imagined just what she'd say, too, if she was able to reach out and touch the pretty girl's hand or grasp her arm once more before parting. She'd look into Tatyana's sparkling eyes—perhaps caress her light brown hair one more time, —and say, “Remember what I said, my Darling. Stay alive no matter what happens; and someday I'll come for you. I promise.”
Yes, that was the line she practiced and rehearsed over and over again in her mind as she drifted off to sleep with an exhausted smile for one more fitful night sleeping on the ground by the side of the trail. She looked forward to the next day, for tomorrow might mean her last chance to see her lover again—at least for a very, very long time. Because for Ludmilla, as well as over a hundred thousand of her fellow survivors, it was soon going to be the end of the line—even if no one in that thirty-mile-long column of prisoners had even the slightest inkling as to what fate lay in store for them once they got there.
Chapter 12
Slave Market
By September 1571 as Ludmilla and over 120,000 surviving Russian prisoners prepared to enter; Caffa was already a very ancient city. Founded by Greek colonists who originally called it Theodosiya, it was later sacked and completely destroyed by the Huns in the 4th century AD. After that it declined into a minor farming community for the next nine hundred years or so until the Venetians took control of the area in the early thirteenth century. By then, its rich local farmland and prime location on the Black Sea were gradually developing the town and its port into an agricultural trading center.
Unfortunately, in 1230 the region received a new and much more terrifying visitor: The Golden Horde of Ghenghis Khan. This time the town was not destroyed, and it continued to thrive under Mongol control until 1266. However, as the Mongol empire fractured and splintered after the death of Ghengis Khan’s grandson Kublai, it was sold to the Republic of Genoa—the chief economic and political rival of Venice—and it was those same Genoese who established a new port city there named Cafa’.