The Bronze Horseman

by Paullina Simons

  Alexander stood at the door dressed in his white battle uniform. Over his ears and head was a quilted hat, and in his hands he held a blanket.

  “What’s the matter?” she said, putting her hand on her chest. Seeing him, Tatiana’s heart pulsed a beat faster, even in the middle of the night. Her eyes opened a bit wider; she was awake. “What’s happened?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “Get yourself and Dasha ready; where is she? She needs to get ready.”

  “Where are we going? Dasha can’t get up,” Tatiana said. “You know that. She is coughing badly.”

  “She will get up,” Alexander replied. “Come on. There is an armament truck leaving the garrison tonight. I will get you to Ladoga, and then you will go to Kobona. Tania! I will get you out of Leningrad.”

  He walked through the hallway and came into the bedroom. Dasha was lying under her blankets and coats. Her lips were not moving, her eyes would not open.

  “Dasha,” Alexander whispered. “Dashenka, dear, wake up. We’ve got to leave. Right now, we’ve got to go. Quick.”

  Without opening her eyes, Dasha muttered, “I can’t get up.”

  “You can get up, and you will get up,” he said. “An armament truck is waiting at the barracks. I will get you to Lake Ladoga. Then we will get you across the lake. Tonight. You’ll get to Kobona, where there is food, and then you girls can go to your Babushka in Molotov. But you have to get up right now, Dasha. Now, let’s go.” He moved the blankets off her.

  Dasha whispered, “I can’t get to the barracks.”

  “Tania has a sled. And look!” He opened his coat and took out a piece of white bread with a crust. Breaking off a hunk of the soft inside, he put it to Dasha’s mouth. “White bread! Eat. It will give you strength.”

  Dasha opened her mouth. She chewed listlessly without opening her eyes and then coughed. Tatiana stood nearby, wrapped in her own coat with a blanket over her shoulders, looking at the piece of bread the way she once used to look at Alexander. Maybe Dasha won’t finish it all. Maybe there will be some left for me.

  It was only a little piece. Dasha ate everything. “Is there more?” she asked.

  “Only the crust,” Alexander replied.

  “I’ll have it.”

  “You can’t chew it.”

  “I’ll swallow it whole.”

  “Dasha . . . maybe your sister can have it?” he asked with feeling.

  “She’s standing, isn’t she?”

  Alexander looked up at Tatiana, who was standing next to him. Shaking her head, she said, looking longingly at the crust, “Give it to her. I’m standing.”

  Breathing in deeply, Alexander gave the crust to Dasha and then, rising to his feet, said to Tatiana, “Let’s get going. What do you need to do to get ready? Can I help you pack?”

  Tatiana stared at him with empty eyes. “I have nothing. I’m ready now. My boots are on. My coat is on. We’ve sold everything and burned everything else.”

  “Everything?” he asked her in the darkness—one word, brimming with the past.

  “I have . . . the books—” She broke off.

  “Bring them,” Alexander said and, leaning closer to her, continued, “Check out the back cover of Pushkin when you’re feeling particularly down on your luck. Where are they?”

  Alexander crawled under the bed to get her books, while Tatiana found Pasha’s old backpack. Then he lifted Dasha and forced her to stand up. In the dark the three silhouettes struggled in silence, with only Dasha’s intermittent moans and chesty coughing breaking the night into shards. Finally Alexander picked her up and carried her out of the apartment, and they slid down the stairs. Outside in the bitter night he laid Dasha across the sled, covering her with the blanket he had brought. Alexander and Tatiana picked up the reins and slowly pulled Dasha down the streets through the snow in the girls’ childhood blue sled with bright red runners.

  “What’s going to happen to Dasha?” Tatiana said quietly.

  “In Kobona there is food and a hospital. Once she is better, you will go to Molotov.”

  “She sounds bad.”

  Alexander didn’t say anything.

  “Why is she coughing like that?” Tatiana said, and coughed herself.

  Alexander didn’t say anything.

  “I haven’t heard from Babushka in so long.”

  “She is fine. She is better off than you,” Alexander said. “Is it hard for you to pull? Just walk beside me. Let go of the sled.”

  “No.” It was a tremendous effort. “Let me help you.”

  “Save your strength.” He made her release the rope. Tatiana let go and walked alongside him.

  “Hold on to my arm,” Alexander told her. She did.

  The night was so cold, Tatiana stopped feeling her feet. Leningrad was still and silent and almost completely dark. In the sky the translucent banded lights of the aurora borealis streaked green through the blackness. Tatiana turned around to look at Dasha, who lay motionless in the sled.

  “She seems so weak,” Tatiana said.

  “She is weak.”

  “How do you manage?” she asked in a low voice. “How do you manage to carry your weapon, to stand guard, to go and fight, to be strong for all of us?”

  “I give you,” said Alexander, glancing at her, “what you need most from me.”

  They trod mutely through the snow. Alexander got slower. Tatiana took the second rope from his hands. He did not protest.

  “I’ll feel better knowing you two are out of Leningrad. I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe,” he said. “Don’t you think it will be better?”

  Tatiana didn’t reply. Better to eat, yes. Better for Dasha to eat, yes.

  But not better for Alexander, not better for her. Not better to stop seeing him. She said none of these things. And then she heard his soft “I know.” And wanted to cry, but she knew crying was impossible. Her eyes exposed to the black frost, sore from the wind, half shut from the cold, were dry.

  When they finally got to the barracks an hour later, the army truck was minutes away from leaving. Alexander carried Dasha inside the covered vehicle. There were six soldiers sitting on the floor, and a young woman holding a small infant sitting next to a man who looked barely alive. He looks much worse than Dasha, Tatiana thought, but when she looked at Dasha, she saw that her sister could not even sit up by herself. Every time Alexander sat her up Dasha would tilt to one side. Tatiana needed help getting inside the truck. She could not jump up or pull herself up by her arms. She needed someone to lift her. All the people inside the truck were oblivious to her, including Alexander, who was trying anxiously and solicitously to get Dasha to open her eyes. Someone from the outside shouted, “Go!” And the truck started slowly moving forward in the snow. “Shura!” Tatiana cried.

  Alexander crawled across the floor of the truck, grabbing Tatiana’s arms and pulling her in.

  “Did you forget about me?” she asked and saw Dasha’s open eyes watching them.

  The door closed, and it became very dark, and in the dark, on her hands and knees, Tatiana made her way to Dasha.

  In silence they drove toward Lake Ladoga.

  Alexander sat on the floor next to his rifle. Dasha lay on the sawdust-covered floor with her head in his lap. Tatiana picked up her sister’s feet and slid under them, closer to Alexander. Dasha now lay nearly on top of them. Alexander had her head, Tatiana had her feet. Alexander leaned against the wall of the cabin, and Tatiana leaned against the wall of the truck. She picked up a piece of sawdust and put it in her mouth. It tasted like bread. She had another piece.

  “Don’t eat that, Tania,” said Alexander. How could he see her? “It’s filthy.”

  Time passed. In the occasional flicker of light, Tatiana would catch Alexander staring at her. Their eyes met and held until the light from the passing vehicle dimmed. Without saying a word, without touching each other, they sat on the floor and in every lit moment caught each other’s gaze.

  Endless minutes passed.
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  “What time is it, do you know?” Tatiana asked quietly.

  Alexander said, “Two in the morning. We’ll be there soon.”

  Tatiana wanted to eat, and she wanted to stop being cold. She wanted her sister to get better, to get up. At the same time, leaving for Molotov seemed so final.

  She waited for another light so she could catch Alexander’s eye for a second or two. Her eyes got used to the dark, and she could make out his silhouette, his head and hat, the shape of his arms that lay around Dasha to keep her warm. Tatiana squeezed Dasha’s legs, first softly, then harder. She shook Dasha’s legs, first softly, then harder. Dasha stirred a bit and coughed. Relieved, Tatiana closed her eyes, only to instantly open them again. She didn’t want to close her eyes. In a little while she would be across the Ladoga ice, away from him. If I reach out, I can almost touch him, she thought.

  “Tania?” she heard his voice.

  “Yes—Alexander?”

  “What’s the name of the village your grandmother lives in?”

  “Lazarevo.” She stretched out her hand to him. He stretched out his hand to her.

  “Lazarevo.” Passing light. Alexander and Tatiana touched each other. Darkness again.

  Alexander fell asleep. Dasha was asleep. All the people in the truck had their eyes closed, except for Tatiana, who could not take her eyes off Alexander’s sleeping form. Maybe I’m dead, she thought. Dead people can’t close their eyes. Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep. I’m dead. But she could not close her eyes. She watched him. Both his hands were on Dasha’s head.

  “Alexander, why didn’t you buy yourself an ice cream, too?”

  “I didn’t want one.”

  “Then why are you looking so longingly at mine?”

  “I’m not looking longingly at your ice cream.”

  “No? Would you like a taste?”

  “All right.” He bent and had a lick of her creamy ice cream.

  “Isn’t it good?”

  “So good, Tania.”

  Finally the truck stopped. Alexander opened his eyes. The other people stirred. The woman with the baby got up first and whispered to her husband, “Leonid, come on, dear, time to get across, get up, darling.”

  Alexander moved out from under Dasha, stood, and gave his arm to Tatiana. “Get up, Tatia,” he said softly. “It’s time.” He pulled her up. She swayed from weakness.

  “Shura,” she said, “what am I going to do with Dasha in Kobona? She can’t walk. And I’m not you, I can’t carry her.”

  “Don’t worry. There will be soldiers and doctors to help you. Look at that woman,” he whispered to her. “She carries her baby, but her husband can’t hold himself up, just like Dasha. She’ll manage. You’ll see. Come, I’ll help you down.”

  Jumping down, he extended his arms to Tatiana, who could not have jumped down if she wanted to. Alexander lifted her and brought her down to stand in front of him. He did not let go.

  “Go get Dasha, Shura,” Tatiana whispered.

  “Come on! Let’s move it!” a sergeant shouted behind them. Alexander let go of Tatiana and grimly turned around. The sergeant quickly apologized to the captain.

  Tatiana saw four other trucks with their lights on, shining down on the snow-covered field ahead. She realized that it wasn’t a field. It was Lake Ladoga. It was the Road of Life.

  “Come on, come on, comrades! Walk down to the lake. There is a truck waiting there for you. Come on, the quicker you get inside, the quicker we can go. It’s thirty kilometers, a couple of hours on the ice, but there’s butter on the other side, and maybe even some cheese. Hurry!”

  The woman with the baby was already walking down the hill with her husband limping beside her.

  Dasha was in Alexander’s arms. “Stand her up, Shura,” said Tatiana. “Let’s get her to walk.”

  He put Dasha down, but her legs buckled under her. “Come on, Dasha,” said Tatiana. “Walk with me. There’s butter on the other side, did you hear?”

  Dasha groaned. “Where am I?” she whispered.

  “You’re at the Road of Life. Now, come on. In just a little while we’re going to eat, and we’re going to be all right. A doctor will look at you.”

  “Are you coming with us?” Dasha asked Alexander.

  He supported her with his arm. “No, Dasha, I stay. My Zenith is just up ahead. But write to me as soon as you get to Molotov, and when I get furlough, I’ll come and see you.” Alexander said it without glancing at Tatiana, but Tatiana couldn’t hear it without glancing at Alexander.

  Dasha moved a few meters by herself and then sank to the snow. “I can’t.”

  “You can, and you will,” said Tatiana. “Come on. Show him your life means something. Show him you can walk to the truck to save yourself. Come on, Dasha.” They lifted Dasha to her feet.

  She walked another few meters and stopped. “No,” she whispered.

  Holding Dasha up between them, Alexander and Tatiana walked down the slope to the lake, where the army truck was waiting.

  Alexander lifted Dasha and laid her on the floor of the truck. Then he hopped down to help Tatiana, who could barely stand. She leaned against the tarpaulin, heard shouts. The truck revved its engines.

  “Come on, Tania, I’ll help you inside,” Alexander said. “You have to be strong for your sister.” He came close to her.

  “I will be,” she thought she said.

  “Don’t worry about the bombing,” Alexander said. “It’s usually quieter at night.”

  “I’m not worried,” Tatiana said, coming into his arms.

  He hugged her. “Be strong for me, Tatiana,” Alexander said hoarsely. “Save yourself for me.”

  “That’s what I do, Shura,” Tatiana said. “I save myself for you.”

  Alexander bent to her, but she couldn’t even look up. He kissed the top of her hat. They held on for a few more seconds.

  “Time!” someone shouted.

  Alexander helped Tatiana inside the truck. He hopped in himself to get the two girls comfortable, moving Dasha’s head to rest on top of Tatiana’s lap.

  “Is this all right?” he asked, and both sisters answered, “Yes.”

  Kneeling down in front of Dasha, Alexander said, “Now, remember, when they offer you food in Kobona, eat small bites. Don’t gulp it down, it can tear your stomach. Eat small and eat slow. You’ll get used to it, and then you can eat more. Drink soup in small spoonfuls. All right?”

  Dasha took hold of his hand. He kissed her on the forehead. “So long, Dasha. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Good-bye—” whispered Dasha. “What did my sister call you? Shura?”

  Alexander glanced at Tatiana. “Yes, Shura.”

  “Good-bye, Shura,” said Dasha. “I love you.”

  Tatiana closed her eyes so as not to look at him speak. If she could have covered her ears, she would have.

  “I love you, too,” Alexander said to Dasha. “Don’t forget to write.”

  After he stood up, Dasha said, “Say good-bye to Tania. Or did you already say good-bye?”

  “Good-bye, Tatiana,” he said.

  “Good-bye,” she replied, staring at him.

  “As soon as you get to Molotov, I want to hear from you. Promise?” Alexander said, hopping off the truck.

  “Alexander!” Dasha called after him.

  “Yes?” he leaned in.

  “Tell me, how long have you loved my sister?”

  Alexander glanced from Tatiana’s face to Dasha’s and back again. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it with a shudder of his head.

  “How long? Tell me. Look at us all—what secrets can we possibly have left? Tell me, darling. Tell me.”

  Setting his jaw, Alexander said forcefully, “Dasha, I never loved your sister. Never. I love you. You know what we have.”

  “You told me that next summer maybe we would get married,” said Dasha weakly. “Did you mean it?”

  Nodding, he replied, “Of course I meant it. Next summer I will
come and we will get married. Now, go.”

  He blew Dasha a kiss and disappeared, not even glancing at Tatiana. And she desperately wanted just one small last glance, almost in the dark, his soft eyes on her, so she could see a bit of truth. But he didn’t look at her. She didn’t see any truth. She saw Alexander not even breathe her way. She saw Alexander deny her.

  The tarpaulin was closed, the truck was off, and they were in the dark again. Except that now there was no Alexander between the darkness and the light, and no moon, just gunfire and the sound of bursting in the distance that Tatiana could barely hear, so loud was the sound of bursting inside her chest. Finally she closed her eyes, so that Dasha, who was lying with her eyes open, couldn’t look up and see what must have been so plain on Tatiana’s face.

  “Tania?”

  She didn’t answer. Her nose was hurting from breathing the freezing air. She parted her lips and breathed through her mouth.

  “Tanechka?”

  “Yes, Dasha, dear?” she whispered at last. “Are you all right?”

  “Open your eyes, sister.”

  Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

  “Open them.”

  She opened them. “Dasha, I’m very tired. You’ve kept your eyes closed for hours. Now it’s my turn. I’ve pulled your sled and held your legs and helped you down the hill. Now you’re lying on me, and I just want to close my eyes for a second, for a minute. All right?”

  Dasha didn’t say anything but looked at Tatiana with lucid clarity. Tatiana held her sister’s face and closed her eyes, listening to Dasha’s wet cough.

  “How did it feel, Tania, hearing him say he never loved you?”

  With the greatest effort Tatiana stopped herself from a groan of pain. “Fine,” she said hoarsely. “As it should be.”

  “Then why did your body recoil as if he had hit you?”

  “Don’t know what you mean,” Tatiana said faintly.

  “Open your eyes.”

  “No.”

  Dasha spoke. “You love him unbearably, don’t you? How did you manage to hide it from me, Tania? You couldn’t love a man more.”

  I couldn’t love a man more. “Dasha,” said Tatiana with finality and grace, “I love you more.” She never opened her eyes as she spoke.