Katerina was beside herself as she realized that the day was passing and all they had accomplished was the descent. She had figured a day, but she had hoped for better time. Again she cursed the wagons.
The prince walked alongside her and tried to calm her. “Don’t worry, we’ll get these down shortly, and the worst of it will be over. Tomorrow, if a pass is ahead, we’ll make up for lost time.”
“Damn those wagons!” she hissed again. “Three men, four horses, one wagon, and one sleigh, gone. Damn . . . damn . . . damn! Are the last two ready to go?”
“Yes. We’ve added more ropes and more men to hold them.”
The extra hands and ropes proved effective. The last of the wagons went safely down the mountain.
The Kat announced that they would make camp for the night at the base of the mountain. Every man was hungry and tired from the grueling day. As quickly as possible, the fires were made and the food was prepared. The men ate, the horses were bedded down, and soon the camp fell silent. Neither Banyen nor Katerina was in the mood for conversation. They were spent, their only thought of rest.
The next week was a repetition of small ridges and long passes. Up one mountain and down another.
Katerina was relieved when they finally approached the pass that led out of the Urals. Quietly she checked with the cook on their food supply, and found they could spare some extra for each man. A small reward, she thought happily.
That night they camped at the mouth of the pass. “Men, listen to me. You see the snow is with us every day, and it will get worse. We’ve been through hard times, and we still have a hazardous journey ahead. If the drivers of each wagon can keep the horses at a lively pace, I promise all fifty kopecks.”
Wide grins and shouts of approval went up over the camp. Katerina smirked to herself. Men would do anything for money. The following morning would be their true test: the crossing of the Kama River.
The Kat watched through half-closed eyes as she got to her feet and took her place at the end of the line to await her dinner portion. The meal over, the fires roaring brightly in their efforts to reach the sky, she sat back and closed her eyes. She was jarred from her light sleep by a shout from the cook, who volunteered to play a tune for the men on his balalaika. She listened while he played and sang songs of the Russian people and their land. Tears burned her eyes at the haunting, beautiful words. When the cook finished his tune, he played another. This time he sang of the flowers and the sweet song of the nightingale. He stopped playing for a moment, reached out his hand to draw Katerina to her feet, and motioned her to act out the scenes as he played. Caught up in the moment, she agreed, and began to move her hands gently to the music as she had done before, as a child.
Banyen and the others watched, enthralled by her slow, rhythmic movements to the sound of the balalaika. She smiled, her small teeth pearl-white in the orange glow from the fire, her movements sure and relaxed. Banyen stared, never having seen her like this before. Suddenly he wanted to reach out and clasp her to him, to take her slender, swaying body in his arms. He wanted to feel the warmth of her beneath him while he released his aching loins into her. The welt on his cheek began to throb as he watched the men leering at her. He was sure they were all thinking the same thing, just as he knew he needed to take another breath to live. He hated it. The wound ached again, making his cheek twitch as he placed his index finger over it, trying to stop the pain. What was bothering him? Jealousy? He had never been jealous of a woman in his life. His dark eyes scanned the men around the campfire, and he knew he had to do something before . . .
Banyen stood up. “The hour grows late. The men need their sleep,” he said curtly.
A loud groan of dismay circled the fire. It was the Kat who seconded Banyen’s words and gathered up her bedroll. “The prince is right. The cook will play for us another tune, and then we’ll all dance. Tomorrow you’ll thank Prince Banyen for his foresight.” She unrolled her blanket, spread it by the fire, and lay down. The only sound heard throughout the camp was the crackling of the fires.
Banyen lay awake long after everyone else was asleep, his mind refusing to let him rest. The vision of Katerina dancing left him only with the thought of conquering her so that his body would be appeased. He wanted to reach out, here and now, and take her. Blood coursed through him, keeping alive the fire in his loins. Wondering about the taste of her lips, he thought of the ways he would make love to her. He imagined how she would feel in his arms, the softness of her body and the firmness of her breasts against his chest. Rolling over onto his belly, he willed the ache to subside. The men looked asleep, but he wondered if they too tossed with an ache in their groin. Frustration gave way to exhaustion, and he slept.
As dawn broke through the darkness, the camp stirred. The men got up and ate. Some were already at work. Katerina and Banyen discussed the best way to cross the Kama River.
“I know the Kama is treacherous and deep but I think crossing over the ice would be the quickest and easiest way to get to the other side. I’ll test the ice by walking on it, and if it holds me I’ll go out on my horse,” Katerina said.
“I disagree with you. I think we should find a shallow area,” urged Banyen.
Katerina ignored his words as she tested the ice around the banks, satisfied with its thickness. Cautiously she edged out onto the ice-covered river. She walked a third of the way without hearing or seeing a crack. On her return she trod briskly, stopping now and then to jump up and down, testing the ice. At the bank of the river a soldier waited with her horse. Once again she ventured across the ice, this time a little farther. Satisfied, she turned the horse around and headed back.
“I have no doubts the ice will hold the wagons, no doubts at all. It’s strong enough to hold anything.”
“In the middle of the river the current moves deep and fast, and the ice doesn’t get as thick as at the edges. I’m telling you, it won’t hold.”
“Line up the wagons and prepare to move. An empty wagon will go first, followed by the ones with food and supplies. After that, move the wagons with the men. If the ice should give way, it will happen before the men go out. Now move them onto the ice,” Katerina said forcefully.
Cautiously the empty wagon crossed the river. Katerina turned to Banyen and gave him a satisfied smile. Next, the food wagon eased over the ice. Once past the center of the river, the other bank in sight, the cook heaved a sigh of relief. The supply wagon followed. As it crossed the middle of the river, hairline cracks, invisible to the eye, started to form.
“Next,” called Katerina, ordering the wagons filled with the men to go. “Stay two wagon lengths behind each other. There is nothing to fear. You see how the ice holds. Remember, two lengths behind.”
As the wagons began to move, the guards on horseback trotted along. When they reached the middle of the river, the ice began to rumble. “The ice is cracking!” the prisoners shouted in unison.
All eyes were on the frozen river, watching as a horse in the first team lost its footing and fell to one knee, dragging down three other animals. As they fell, a loud thundering crack ripped through the air. The first load of prisoners reached the bank just as the ice behind them cracked and split asunder. The river’s mouth, wide open, swallowed the men, horses, and wagons into its mad, rushing, carnivorous depths.
The death cry of the men and horses clawed at everyone’s ears. As men and animals struggled to get out of the icy water, their screams tore at Banyen and Katerina. The Kat headed for the shattered ice, shouting for the others to try to save the men.
Banyen rushed after her, shouting. “No! You’ll only waste more lives. You can’t save those in the water. When it’s this cold they can only survive for a minute. Katerina, do you hear me? Only a minute. The men in the water are dead men. Let them go and save the others.”
Katerina stopped in her tracks. He was right.
“Get that sleigh and the other wagons off the ice quickly! Back them off carefully!” Banyen shouted, his voice
full of authority.
Banyen could see apathy overtaking Katerina. She stood on the bank, helpless, motionless. Her head dropped down on her chest in defeat. He quickly grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the rescue party. “Katerina, there’s much to be done and we need everybody’s help. Take the reins and lead the horses onto the bank,” he ordered, trying to bring her back to her senses. “You had to let the men in the river go. I’m not coldhearted, but I’ve seen men drown in the rivers before in the winter. There’s nothing anyone can do, they die quickly. They don’t suffer. We have to help the living. Some of the men left hanging on the ice need a fire to dry their clothes and warm their bodies. The horses have to be dried, too. Then we must regroup and set up camp, for this day is lost.”
She was totally to blame, and he wouldn’t let her forget it, but now was not the time; he had to get her back to work. “Katerina, have your men start large fires. Do it!” he shouted, giving her a vicious shove. “The prisoners are looking at you, you’re their leader, give them their orders.”
Slowly she turned to the men and without emotion ordered them to make fires. Little by little she busied herself, until she gradually had worked off the lethargy.
Banyen was busy helping and directing. “You, guard, ride up the river and look for a shallow spot to get these four wagons across. When you find such a place, get back to me. I want to make camp on the other bank by nightfall.”
Darkness found them camped along the opposite bank, huddled around the fires, feeling the cold more piercingly this night than any other.
Katerina was furious with herself. Another day lost and it’s my fault. By the time we reach Volin, the snow will be falling and knee-deep on the ground. Each day counts, each day makes the trip to the Carpathians more difficult. The wagons will slow our progress as they slip and slide in the snow. Perhaps there’ll be some sleighs left in Volin and we can use them instead, she thought.
Banyen wanted to chastise her to her face, but he knew the wrong decision and the deaths of the men and horses were punishment enough. But when he could he would lash out at her, this Cossack girl, and teach her that stupid womanly pride had cost them time and lives. She would pay when the delay caught them in the heavy snows of the Carpathians.
Katerina called the cook and one other driver, and after supper that night they checked the remaining wagons and sleigh to make sure they weren’t damaged. She shook her head as they walked, muttering, “Four men, one wagon, one sleigh, and four horses lost on the mountain. Now two more wagons, eight horses . . . a total of ten guards with their horses and thirty-five prisoners, all dead.” The men walking with her heard her but said nothing. Everything looked in order. She prayed silently that the rest of the journey would be accomplished without the loss of more lives. From here to Volin the land was level, the glorious flat steppe. The only enemy left to fight would be the heavy accumulation of snow between Volin and the House of the Kat.
As they made their way back to camp she knew that within four days they would probably be near Volin.
Banyen and the men were asleep when they returned, exhausted from the tragic day. This was one day none of them would ever forget, not even the rough, hardened prisoners. She lay back by the fire, curling up to keep warm under her blanket. As her eyelids grew heavy, the thought of arriving in Volin comforted her. The thought of the steppe also made her feel a little better. She had cursed the flat, desolate plains during the winter for their endless snow and icy cold, and in the summer she had cursed them for their heat. This night Katerina found she loved the plains, their vast, barren emptiness. It would mean no hills, no rivers, no death. Straight ahead was Volin, waiting. The picture of home faded as her cinnamon eyes closed and the pain of the tragic day was lost in sleep.
Chapter 11
Katerina tried to force her eyes to remain open in the swirling storm, to no avail. It was up to her now, her and the lead horse. The Khan’s soldiers and Banyen couldn’t help her now. Their fate would be decided by the horse. She would have to trust to the animal’s blind instinct in getting to the pass. If Mikhailo had had the foresight to bring extra horses and sleighs to Volin, then he would have strung the pass with bells in anticipation of the heavy snows and her late arrival. Somewhere out there in the vast, all-consuming whiteness was the pass that would take her to the House of the Kat. She closed her eyes, the driving blizzard coating her thick lashes. She whispered encouraging words to the horse, aware that the animal couldn’t hear her in the blizzard that raged around them.
They rode for hours, the animals straining to pull their heavy burdens through the deep snow. Katerina sat huddled in the sleigh, her ermine cape and heavy fur rug pulled tightly around her. For the first time she felt the faint stirrings of panic. What if this mare that Mikhailo had brought missed the pass? She, Katerina Vaschenko, would be responsible for the deaths of all these men. How confident she had been! How glibly she had assured the Khan that she wouldn’t have any trouble getting back to the Carpathians. And she wouldn’t have, if it hadn’t been for her stupidity on the Kama. She paid for that daily. The presence of the Mongol was her reminder of it all. She felt his closeness in the sleigh they shared and was surprised that he made no snide remarks concerning the snow and the fact that they were two days overdue. Was that why he was quiet and not baiting her with his testy remarks about her abilities?
She was numb with cold, all feeling gone from her legs and feet. Dear God, help me, she prayed silently. Don’t let us freeze to death.
Through the loud winds she thought she heard the high, clear sound of a bell. Where did the sound come from? It couldn’t be from the horses’ harness; the bells were too tiny, and the sound would be lost in the force of the driving wind. Katerina sat upright, and felt Banyen also straighten from his slumped position next to her. She stared into the white void of nothingness. It was a bell! Thank you, Mikhailo, she sighed. When the horse heard the bell he would know he was near the pass and close to home and a pail of oats. Once through the pass, he could find his way back to the House of the Kat blindfolded.
Squirming deeper into the fur lap robe, Katerina let her tired body relax. The snow was needle-sharp as it stung her face and beat against the sleigh. She was so tired, so very tired. All she wanted to do was sleep, but she knew that if she allowed herself the luxury she would never wake. She felt Banyen stir, trying to make himself more comfortable. Think about Prince Banyen, her mind shrieked, that will keep you awake. Think how it will feel when you finally get your revenge.
Her mind wandered as the horse strained and heaved to pull the heavy sleigh. The driving, pelting snow and ice were Banyen’s hands forcing her back, back, back, till she sprawled on the blanket. The force of the wind was his hot, searing breath as he leaned over her, closer, closer, always closer. The fir tree overhead with its swinging, dipping branches, which beat against the sides of the sleigh, was his body. The low-slung branch that reached out its tentacles to strike her full force across the side of her head was her shock of pain. She screamed as she lurched and fell against Banyen.
Banyen reached out an arm protectively to grasp her slim body. His eyes took in the fallen branch, and his hand felt warm stickiness on the side of her face. Damnation, this was all he needed. His hands explored her face, roughly at first, and then more gently as he felt the gash on her cheek. How smooth and satiny her skin felt beneath the ermine hood. The thick lashes fluttered against his hand as he brushed her hair from the wound. “A limb from one of the firs dropped on you,” he said softly. “You were just stunned. Your animal has entered the pass, the bells are clear now, and the snow is not quite so thick.” He gathered her close, his hands inside the ermine cape encircling her body. How vulnerable she feels, how cold, how defenseless, he thought as he brought her nearer to him, his own cape open so that their bodies met in warmth. “An old Mongol custom—two bodies together for heat will allow us to survive,” he said huskily.
Katerina was too tired to resist, too weary to care, a
nd she decided she liked the feel of him. For now, it was all that mattered. How gentle his hands were. For the first time in days she felt warm. She burrowed her head in his chest, her eyes sleepy and relaxed. She felt his hands cup her face gently as he lowered his face to hers. Katerina parted her lips as his full mouth settled possessively over hers. She felt light, soft nibbles against her lips. The pressure of his lips on hers was increasingly demanding, persuasive. Her breathing became his as he explored her moist mouth with his searching tongue. His hands on her body inside the fur cape were hypnotic, touching her intimately, spreading fire throughout her body. Her arms moved naturally to encircle his broad back, the black-tipped hood slipping from her head. She felt his hands cradle her head as her wealth of copper hair fell over their faces. His lips ground against hers hungrily as she eagerly gave him the sweetness of her mouth. She began to moan softly as his hands tantalized her with their gentle, sensuous caresses. The warm feel of his body and the rippling muscles beneath her hands so delighted her, she crushed her lips against his, demanding he return her ardor. Her heart pounded with exquisite torture as she heard him emit low animal groans of passion. His hard mouth was devouring her as his embrace became more urgent, more frantic. “I knew I could melt that cold, icy reserve of yours,” Banyen panted heavily as his mouth came down against hers, crushing her, driving the breath from her body.
The sleigh lurched as the words penetrated Katerina’s mind. Knew . . . he knew he could . . . ! “Damnable devil!” she screeched as she pushed with all her strength. Banyen was flung over the side of the sleigh into the swirling drifts. “Walk!” she screamed into the void. “If you try to get back in this sleigh I’ll kill you!”
Tears trickled down her reddened cheeks as she straightened her clothing and drew the ermine cape over her head. Her chest heaved at his remembered nearness, the feel of him. How could she have let it happen? How could she have been such a fool? She was tired and weary, numb with cold, she defended herself. Her defenses were down, she had been vulnerable, but thank God she had come to her senses. It wouldn’t happen again, she would make sure of that. For a brief moment the thought saddened her, and she quickly thrust it from her mind. There was no room in her life for men and passion. She had a mission to fulfill, and when she accomplished that . . .
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